#I really just want to get shit out of my head to help me mourn

[sagehaubitze]

I write a lot to deal with my emotions and to process (right now I am processing a lot of anger, still). I don't share a lot of it, but I did write something to post on fetlife yesterday having to do with my friend, Remy's, death. The circles of people I have over there have no real context or frame of reference for any of it though. Since I'm still vaguely furry-adjacent, I figured maybe people (all like.. five of you) would get more mileage out of it here, so I'm crossposting it.

This is a small tidbit of furry history. Before you fly off the handle and send me anon hate, please take a minute to read all of this through. Plus think about what type of person would absolutely fucking loathe both queer people involved in WWII reenacting, and queer people dressing in uniform to do weird kink shit. (it's supposed to be fascists that idealize the era, they would have an aneurysm, but this is a trick question because apparently everybody loathes it)

Anyway. Pushing the Feldpost Envelope (furries and nazis and death in here.)

"History lesson.

I'm at the third year of my home furcon in 2005, attending opening ceremonies, wearing my officer's cap. All day, I've been nervously eyeing someone also in an officer's cap, albeit a different branch, worried that they're either going to be confrontational, or that they're a bad actor and a bigot. We'd unknowingly run in the same circles for a couple years now, but had yet to cross paths in any significant way until today.

"I like your hat" he smiled and piped up after the ceremonies were over. I, a very anxious sixteen year old girl at the time, had a flood of relief wash over me now that the ice had been broken and he didn't seem like a total asshole (joke's on me, Remy was still an asshole, just usually the good kind). "I like yours too..!" I chimed back. And the rest was history. "Living history", actually.

A couple months prior, Remy had created the Nazi Furs community, which I wound up co-running and co-moderating. The goal was to create a space for people with a genuine interest in history and reenacting (which despite the name wasn't limited to the German side of things) and/or for those who get their rocks off in uniform, a little more tucked away from early 2000s internet shock value, and most importantly protected from actual racists, bigots, and all around pieces of shit (which took a hell of a lot of work). Furries tend to cover the whole gamut of kink, and while Remy and I both leaned further towards the leather subculture, we tried to make space for all of the spectrum as long as it was related to that specific time period in some way.

We were not a popular or well liked group. But we were a necessary group. This is the south, if you weren't a cishet good ol boy, it was frankly just not safe to venture into any reenacting groups around here at the time. So, we made our own space for it, to be gay and weird and ourselves while we ran around in the woods. Even in kink, we tried to push the envelope for what was "acceptable" in the eyes of larger communities and carve out a little trench for ourselves, because often in the most accepting places, people would still take issue (and still do). We did our best to push back against people feeling closeted or ashamed for what they were interested in, kink or not. Don't be a shitty person is all we asked. We were young and we stumbled a lot, but we tried our best.

Ultimately, with the shifting perspectives in the fandom, in kink, and in general with online spaces being cleansed to be more palatable and marketable, we lost the fight. Part of it came from the evolving political environment in the US, it did become impossibly hard to weed out bad actors, and not be seen/assumed as a bad actor yourself. But part of it is from lingering social norms on what is "okay" and "acceptable" (even in alternative subcultures), instead of remembering that some interests can be solely academic and not a reflection of your own personal world views. Bleeding over to kink, it's exactly the same, and some people have forgotten that kink should be weird and ugly and not acceptable, it should challenge your emotions and perspective sometimes. It is the opposite of social norms, it's not meant to be sanitized and diluted down for the masses to consume. It's meant for you, and your self expression, self exploration, and your kameraden who share that with you.

Remy died on January 26th. He was one of my very best friends, and there are not many people left on this planet who know me like he did. I rushed to clean his house of things his mother did not want, or need, to see, because I was the only one left to do so. He is survived by communities that did not want him and refuse to see the work he put in for people to have a place they felt accepted.

I have no place in community anymore. But if anyone reading this feels ostracized for their interests or kinks, I feel the same so deeply inside me that it hurts my soul. You shouldn't have to feel that way. I do not have it in me anymore to try and create a space like Remy and I worked on in the past, but do know that you're not alone. I'll be here. I'm still here somehow."

-----

I would also like to add this summarized post that Remy made to the original group, the last post in the group, in 2017.

"In the wake of recent social unrest, we would like to take a moment to make a statement regarding this community.

Nazi_Furs was created by a bunch of nerds. Yes, you read correctly. A bunch of big old nerdy nerds started nazi_furs to post stories, art, historical articles, images from WWII museums, reenacting and living history events, and sometimes little animated gifs of dancing hitlers that we thought were funny.

Most of our members were card carrying homosexuals. Almost all of our moderators were gay, trans, or some other color of "unacceptable" to ACTUAL NEO-NAZIS.

Many of us have well researched and thought out fursonas that inhabit a world set during WWII era Germany. The setting used in many movies like Bed-knobs and Broomsticks, Indiana Jones, Iron Sky, and Dead Snow lends itself well to fantasy. Setting talking animal people into this backdrop did not seem like such a huge clusterfuck at the time.

Nazis are a cliche', relegated to "the bad guys" in popular culture. The sharp uniforms, advanced military weapons and tactics, crackpot schemes, and paranormal ties are used all the time in modern media. They are a caricature of what they were 70+ years ago, much like ninjas (paid assassins) and pirates (murderers and thieves) are today. Once you have been relegated to a children's Halloween costume you no longer have the influence to command respect or fear.

Let us allow nazis to be just that, a cliche condemned to be the "bumbling bad guys". Let us laugh at them and rob them of any authority they feel they may have. There haven't been any "REAL" nazis since the downfall of the NSDAP in 1945, and any members of that movement would be pushing 90 by now.

The "alt-right" are not nazi_furs. They are hateful individuals putting on costumes pretending to be like people they do not understand who have been dead for years. These people WANT you to associate them with nazis, and calling them that only feeds their egos. Lets try not to do that.

If you take anything away from our group, let it be a reminder of our origins as nerdy nerds pouring over history books, saturating ourselves in history to better understand what happened in the 1930s and 40s. Take a look at our current situation we find ourselves in and ask yourselves if we are all doomed to repeat our past mistakes. Then focus your rage and disapproval in a productive manner. Get out there and vote the real racist out of office. Mobilize in peaceful protest, advocate for the oppressed and downtrodden. Make the world a better place than you found it."

I stepped away from the fandom when my home convention, RCFM, ended after a decade. I had been run into the ground, my wallet taken advantage of entirely too much, and I was burnt out beyond belief. Remy stayed more up to date on fandom things, I know there were issues with other "nazi" groups popping up that were inundated with the alt-right. There was no avoiding getting lumped in with them, so we eventually just enjoyed our interests in silence, away from everyone else.

To be completely honest, the majority of our time was spent in museums and hunting down weirdly specific esoteric research topics, which we'd then attempt to discuss while drunk around a fire (this is the academic way). It wasn't to idolize these people or politics, it was to understand an extremely complicated time period and what was born out of it. There are SO MANY absolutely fascinating aspects to study, not just "woo big scary gun death ubermench". What people saw most though, convention-wise at least, were the room parties where we could let our hair down and be WEIRD. Furcon room parties are fucking weird just as a baseline, throw some uniforms and sadomasochism in, sometimes some LSD, and... I mean yeah. And of course that's all that stuck in anybody's mind. Though, tbh, a lot of the time for the majority of the night, it was just a small circle of friends watching war movies and drinking. We came up with this (not) great idea to take a shot every time there was a depth charge in Das Boot, yeah I can't recommend that lmao.

Even from the reenacting standpoint, Remy was putting together a US medic impression (not even German! *clutches pearls*) over the past few years, because he was an EMT by trade. I've always reenacted a very inept Wehrmacht artillery officer who is a touch cowardly, not great at their job, and is usually relegated to office/paperwork. It's far from the edgy internet shock value people associated us with.

Nowadays I am usually running around in the woods alone, or getting the shit kicked out of me in uniform (consensually). I'm just less visible about it. I wish I didn't have to be. It feels very lonely, extremely so now that I've lost Remy. I think there was a good opportunity somewhere in there to push back against the alt-right by being very VERY gay and trans and queer and weird in uniform, destroy the image they were trying to create for themselves, but the current culture of the internet wouldn't have allowed that. I'm still going to keep doing that, just.. y'know, in my own space, on my own time.

I hope other people are out there being weird too. I'll be weird with you in spirit.

[st-el-la-luna]

Task Force 141 x Reader: Picture Day

NSFW 18+

When a guy keeps sending you unsolicited pictures, you impulsively reach out to your Task Force for help in an... Unconventional way.

→ harassment, non con receiving of nudes, asking for nudes, sending of nudes

You don't want to do this. Really, it's not ideal. It's rash, and impulsive and, oh, right, insanely fucking stupid.

But, you're a spiteful person at heart. And, well, this would be the perfect response...

So, you open the Task Force group chat, type up a message and press send before you can stop yourself.

CorvidCorporal: hey guys

CorvidCorporal: can I ask a favour?

You don't have to wait long for a reply.

Captain Price: What is it, Corporal?

Ghost: No

DontDropthe: you know where to find me 😉

Gazoline: everything okay?

You sigh, type up another message, worrying your lip between your teeth.

CorvidCorporal: it's nothing serious

CorvidCorporal: just... weird

Captain Price: What is it?

Gazoline: weird how?

You bury your face in your hands for a moment, considering if you're really about to do this. Your phone buzzes again, a notification from a different chat. You open it and holy shit, another one? Hell no. You're going through with this.

You head back to the Task Force group chat.

DontDropthe: weird is my specialty

You can't believe you're doing this.

You type and retype the message a couple of times before eventually just pressing send. You shut your phone off, face burning, not wanting to think about what you just did.

CorvidCorporal: I need a dick pic

The little markers on the bottom of the screen indicating people are typing vanish then start up again. Vanish. Start up again. Vanish.

Oh, you're fucked.

What the hell were you thinking?! These were your coworkers! Your superiors! Your boss!

You scramble to explain yourself.

CorvidCorporal: forget I said anything!

CorvidCorporal: it's just this guy keeps sending me them unsolicited from different accounts because I keep blocking his ass

CorvidCorporal: I figured the best way to get him to stop would be to send one back

CorvidCorporal: you know a real power move

CorvidCorporal: just really blindside em

CorvidCorporal: but well... I lack the parts and if I were just to go to google the guy could easily figure that shit out

CorvidCorporal: it was stupid and impulsive and I'm so sorry I asked

CorvidCorporal: please don't fire me I need this job

CorvidCorporal: guys?

The entire chat is dead. But their icons show that each and everyone of them is still active. Even Ghost.

You curse yourself internally and knock your head against the wall. You shut your phone off and toss it away. Too overwhelming. Too much. You can't... Why did you do that?!

You sit on the foot of your bunk and mourn your career, face in your hands. Dishonorable discharge no doubt in your future... You're such an idiot!

Your phone buzzes from across the room. You ignore it.

Except it buzzes again. And again. And again. And–

By the seventh text tone you go to pick it up, almost feeling sick from the nasty knot of anxiety and dread in your gut.

You open the group chat.

You close the group chat.

Holy shit.

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

DontDropthe: see attachment

Gazoline: jesus christ soap

Gazoline: see (2) attachments

DontDropthe: see (3) attachments

Fif– sixteen pictures. Two from Gaz and fourteen from Soap.

Holy shit.

Your phone goes off again.

Captain Price: Let me know if you need anything else, Corporal

Captain Price: see (3) attachments

What the fuck?

Soap has moved on to sending you pictures directly. You dismiss a call from him in a blind panic. He immediately sends a video.

You type into the group chat with shaking hands.

CorvidCorporal: thanks

Gazoline: anytime

DontDropthe: it's only fair if you send them back

DontDropthe: i understand if your shy

DontDropthe: my doors unlocked

Captain Price: *you're

In the end, you got more than enough material to choose from.

Three from Price. Seven from Gaz. A whopping twenty nine from Soap.

You're still deciding on what picture to send (and on calming your racing heart and ignoring the growing heat between your thighs) when your phone goes off again.

Ghost: see attachment

Please reblog to support my writing!

Comment to motivate!

masterlist!

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

[moonstruckme]

hi mae:) would you be willing to write a sirius x reader fic where reader just gets hammered and spills all of her family trauma to sirius? like, she’s no longer in that environment because she moved out but they were just really mean and terrible to her and she’s never told sirius but then she finally does and he’s just like “poor baby, let me tell you all of the love and reassurance you never got as a child:(“

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

You worry you’ve traumatized your boyfriend. 

Sirius has you tucked firmly under his chin, both arms squishing you to his front, and you’re not sure if the rocking is for you or him or possibly both. 

“Sirius,” you murmur, some of the vowels lost due to your malfunctioning tongue. “Baby, m’sorry.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” Your boyfriend’s voice sounds thin. He’s had a bit less to drink than you, but his words still sound like they’re written in cursive, strung together by thick emotion. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

You sigh. It feels nice, being cocooned in his warmth like this. He’s squeezing you just tight enough to be comfortable, and he smells more like himself than like rum. Your next inhale, you focus on it. Clove and nighttime. 

“I shouldn’t’ve dumped on you like this,” you admit.

“Yes you should have.” Sirius’ lips press firmly to the top of your head. “Sweetheart, I only wish you’d told me sooner. Why didn’t you?” 

His sympathy is bringing you dangerously close to tears again. Your first wave has only just dried. “Because I know it’s a lot,” you say, attempting to swallow the blockage in your throat. “S’not like you don’t have your own family shit to deal with. And anyway, I moved out.” 

“Baby.” Sirius sounds devastated. “I don’t care what shit I have, it doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about yours, too. I always do.” His fingers bunch in the fabric of your top, short nails scratching lightly against the skin underneath. “And I know better than fucking anyone that moving out helps, but it doesn’t fix everything. It can—you can still hurt.” 

Where Sirius’ chin touches your forehead, you feel a hot tear drip onto your skin. A pained sound slips from your throat as you pull away from him, taking his face between your hands. 

And you’d expected him to look upset, mournful even, but Sirius looks livid. Every sharp angle of his beautiful face is wrathful, silent tears gleaming on his cheeks and dark brows lowered over stormcloud eyes. His hands stay bunched in your top as if he means to keep you tethered to him by sheer force of will. 

“You’re good,” he tells you, voice quavering with conviction. “You’re lovely, and kind, and more than enough. Got it?” 

“Siri,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness from his cheeks. “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” he insists. Some of the harshness has waned from his expression, though, under your gentle touch. “Nobody should ev—” His voice splinters, and Sirius looks frustrated with himself. You want to roll the both of you up in the comforter of your bed and never come out. “Should ever treat their kid that way,” he finishes. He looks you in your eyes, fierce in his earnestness. “I’m gonna love you so hard those fuckers will regret not giving it to you sooner.” 

Though you try to stop it, a corner of your mouth tips up. “I love you, too, baby. You can love me as hard as you want.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” He cracks a smile at your salacious tone. You stop trying to hold back the rest of your grin, and he grabs your face in both hands, smashing his lips to yours. 

The kiss is firm but not harsh, so fond it makes your heart feel like a bruise. Sirius moves to your forehead next. 

“My baby,” he says against your skin, both amused and ardent. Drops his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna make up for it. I’m gonna give you everything you never got back then. Do you have any idea how much I love you, sweet thing?” 

“I love you, too,” you promise him, pushing against his forehead lightly with your own. “Don’t worry, you already make up for everything.” 

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[parfaitblogs]

loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black.  word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people. 

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again. 

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship. 

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you. 

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though. 

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't. 

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person? 

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap. 

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset. 

At which he shushed you. You listened. 

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things. 

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him. 

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips. 

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends. 

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could. 

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up. 

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent. 

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face. 

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance. 

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked. 

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed. 

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[lis-likes-fics]

spencer reid drabble

tw: none, fluff. 1.1k words

“I don’t wanna do it.”

Your hands clench so tight that the skin is pulled taut over your knuckles. You look down at Spencer, your whole body stiff and rigid with anxiety. He watches you, offering a kind smile as he holds his hands out for you in support. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

You shake your head, holding on tighter. Uncertainty lives in your bones. “I don’t know…”

He shrugs, a light chuckle coming as a breath through his nose. “Well, you have to come down eventually.”

You hug the thick tree branch tighter, shaking your head as he watches you from the ground. You were walking and saw this huge tree and you wanted to see if you could climb it. Spencer fully agreed that you had the ability and then went on to explain why you could do it, but you really wanted to climb the tree. And now you’re stuck, and you’re so high up that getting down makes you want to shit your pants.

Okay, maybe you aren’t that high, but it’s high enough to break a bone if you fall the wrong way. So it counts.

You sigh, looking down at Spencer and contemplating just jumping down with no intention of ever actually ever doing it. “Can you come up with me instead?”

Spencer chuckles, he can’t help it. You’re adorable.

He tucks some hair behind his ear, tilting his head to the side. “It’s about to rain,” he points out, observing the storm clouds beginning to gather above you. “You have to come down, or you’ll get sick.”

You raise a brown accusingly, adjusting your position so that you lean on the your side. “You said that was a myth.” You pluck a tiny branch of leaves off the tree and throw it down at it. It’s pathetic because it pratically floats down and misses him entirely.

“That act of raining itself isn’t what causes sickness, it’s the elevation of bacteria and viruses from the ground and into the air caused by rain that makes it easier to affect an individual.”

You grumle something under your breath about bacteria kissing your ass—which Spencer thinks is funny. Because he thinks you’re funny.

You adjust your footing so you can lounge back on another branch, looking far more comfortable than you should, given that you’re supposed to be anxious. “Are my chances better by staying in this tree?” You pat the branch you’re leaning on—thankfully, it doesn’t move.

“I mean,” he smiles, “if you’re stuck in the tree and it rains, you could get sick from being out in the cold and wet for too long.”

You sigh heavily, nodding your head and sucking your tooth. “So I have to come down?”

Spencer closes his eyes as a raindrop falls on his cheek. His smile grows, showing off every pearly white. “Well, I just felt a drop,” he wipes it away and rubs his hands together, “so the answer is likely yes.”

You let out another long sigh, scrunching your face into a mournful grimance. You whine, “Okay.” You turn to find a grip on the branch again.

He holds his hands up again, shifting on his feet. “I will catch you,” he promises.

You scoff, securing your foot in a crook. “I’m not jumping. You think I’m crazy?”

He laughs again. “Come down, sweetheart.”

Carefully, you begin your descent, moving so slowly that you’re definitely not dodging the rain. Spencer’s theory is proved correct when more and more raindrops fall onto his face. He waits patiently, nevertheless.

You hang off a branch as your foot reaches for a little groove in the tree, but before you can secure it, you slip and lose your hold immediately. A yelp escapes you when you fall back, and you close your eyes in bracing for the fall.

But Spencer’s got you. His arms close around your body, and he holds you securely, dearly. You open one eye to look at him, dramatic and enjoying it. “See?” he smiles. “Nothing to worry about.”

You sigh gently, patting his chest and offering a grin of your own. “You're strong.”

He sets you on your feet, looking over you to make sure you're okay. By this point, his clothes are damp with a light layer of rain, and there's water dripping off his hair. “Well,” he sighs, “I can't bench 400 pounds like Morgan can, but I can hold my own with someone as light as you.” He sets his hand on the side of your neck fondly.

You raise a hand to hold his wrist and pretend to be offended. “I'm not that light.”

He chuckles, taking a step toward you. He kisses you, water dripping down the bridge of his nose and onto your cheek. You're both wet, standing in the rain like they do in those cheesy romcoms.

“Shouldn't we get inside?” you ask as you blink water from your eyes.

His lips lift at the corner, and you fawn at the sight. “One more kiss won't hurt.” And who are you to deny?

~

Spencer's mug warms your hands as you bring it into the living room, where he lounges on the couch with an arm over his eyes, bundled in blankets. You ease on the arm of the couch, passing the mug as he looks up at you.

“You feeling any better, honey?” He sits up enough to take the offered mug in his hands. His fingers curl around it as you slide next to him, nudging some hair from over his forehead.

“A bit,” he hums, taking a burning sip to counter the chill running up his spine. He sets the mug down and smiles, “Maybe a kiss will help?” He stares hopefully.

You raise a brow. “I'm sorry,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You're the sickling riddled with bacteria.”

He shrugs. “Still safer than a handshake.”

You raise a brow, hooking your finger under his chin and speaking softly. “Are you lying to me?”

“Maybe.”

A soft chuckle shivers through you. You kiss his forehead, smoothing your hand to cup his jaw and stroking your thumb over his cheek. “That's my compromise.”

He smiles, his eyes still delicately closed. “I'll take it.” He shifts so he lays with his head in your lap. His face turns as he lifts your shirt just enough to press his lips to the soft skin of your belly. It tickles a bit.

“Funny how you're the one who ended up getting sick,” you tease. You run your hand through his hair and rub his shoulder.

He hums heavily, like he'll pass out any moment now. “Worth it,” he mumbles into your lap.

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[justawriterofstuff]

Happy birthday to Jason

(A/N: MDNI; TW for breast play, nipple play, praise kink, edging, rough sex, and very sexual content.)

"Ngh...shit...oh god..." Jason groaned, as he was splayed out on your lap, the both of ya'll on the bed.

It was an amazing sight; the hulking mass of Jason rendered helpless in your arms, your arm wrapped around his thick torso, your other hand stroking his thick cock.

"Remember your safe word, Jay." you reminded him, but he shook his head.

"N-no. Feels too good..." he trailed off, and when you felt his cock twitch, getting ready to come, you stopped altogether.

He let out a whine of frustration as you denied him release.

"Seriously...again?" he choked out, trying to gather his bearings.

"Don't complain baby, or I'll make it even worse for you." You replied, kissing his cheek, salt on your lips as frustrated tears went down his face.

After about twenty more minutes of that, you finally let him release, his body jerking upwards, muscles strained as he lets out a gasp, and groan.

His hands clutch at the sheets underneath him, and your hand is covered with his thick, hot seed.

Cleaning him off, you rub down his shivering and aching limbs, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes.

"Is that all you had the stamina for today, Jay?" you asked, smoothing out his hair from his face.

His eyes opened instantly at that, the darkest shade of green boring into yours.

"No, I want to do it all. Just...let me catch my breath." he replied, and you nod, tracing his autopsy scars gently.

It'd been six months before he re-entered your life from coming back from the dead, six months of him running around as a powerful drug lord known as The Arkham Knight that destroyed several drug rings.

And then he had sought you out.

You'd mourn him for the past six years, and now, just like that, he was back in your life, making you feel like you were fourteen again, and helping him stop crime.

And now here you were, celebrating his birthday by giving him the full sexual experience, since he'd been so busy being used as a soldier, and then trying to seek revenge on Bruce before he found you. You'd already jerked him off for about an hour or two (with breaks of course), and Jason had been adamant about trying out all the positions.

The next one he wanted to do with you?

Sixty-nine, of course.

Jason took a deep breath in as his gaze landed on yours. There was heat, hunger, and love in his gaze, and you smiled at him.

"I'm ready." he said softly, and you laid him on his back, wiping off the sweat from his body. You undressed as he watched, his cock springing back to life.

The motherfucker was huge. And he knew it.

Once fully undressed, you kissed him messily, tracing the planes of his chest, and then stomach. His breathing had gone rough, and it was one of the things you loved most about him.

He went feral when you touched him.

"Ready?" you asked him, and he nods as you saddle him reverse cowgirl, except scooted up to his face. His hands cupped your ass, a soft sound escaping him as he groped you a little.

"Whoa..." he whispered, and you felt a thrill of pride at yourself.

Carefully, you lowered yourself on his face, and then you went down on his straining erection.

You licked the base, coating it generously with saliva, and stroking it, his hips jerking a bit. He's still so sensitive, and you feel his tongue shyly lap at your cunt, the sensation making you moan a little.

"You're doing such a good job, baby." you praise him, and that really pushes him to continue on, his tongue accidentally brushing against your clit.

You suck in a breath, and shudder, Jason noticing your reaction, he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt.

"Oh...fuck..." you curse, and he eagerly continues, making you take his cock in eagerly, as you suck on him

Jason moans into your pussy, his grip on your ass tightening, as he continues on licking your cunt, and you're just as busy sucking his cock.

Jason won't admit it, but he came first, yours following soon after. As you slid off of him, and collapsed on the bed next to him, his breathing erratic, you watch him with a smug expression.

"Give me another ten minutes." he says, and you nod, rubbing his chest up and down.

Ten minutes later...

You're on your back as Jason is over your naked body, his lips kissing yours lazily. One of his hands cups your breasts, his fingers rubbing your nipple.

He's curious about you, his hands roaming all over your body, his calloused palms making goosebumps run up and down your body.

It's so fucking hot, and your core is pulsing with need.

"Guide me?" he asks, and you nod, cupping his condom-covered cock into your entrance.

You're not a virgin anymore but holy fuck does he stretch you out. He's panting, his muscles straining as he grasps your hips, entering inch by inch into you.

"Oh...fuck..." you gasp out.

"God...you feel so good." he said in between clenched teeth.

"Whenever you're ready, let loose-"

You don't even finish the sentence before he's slamming into you, his hands on your hips gripping you so tight.

You're letting out noises, his eyes on your face, and your bouncing breasts. That seems to encourage him to go into you even harder, his face leaning down and biting your nipple, biting your breasts.

"Oh...shit...God...yes Jason." you cry out, and all of a sudden, he's picking you up, thighs being held sturdy by his grasp, and he's spearing into you, your hands clutching on to his back for dear life.

"Oh God, Y/N, your pussy wraps around my dick so good." he groans out, and he's moving faster and rougher, and you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but some still slip out.

Jason doesn't last long before again he comes, but as he slips it out, he switches out the condom instead.

"I didn't make you come." he says, and he lies you on your stomach, arching your hips back up.

You say a quick prayer as he goes back to ravishing you.

It shouldn't last long, right?

Three hours later...

You're limp on the bed, Jason laying next to you. So many positions you got to show him, and then he really showed you how far his stamina went.

A sheen of sweat covers the both of your bodies, and Jason looks over at you.

"Did I hurt you? I didn't right?" he asks, and you turn to him, dazed.

"I know I have some experience, but not that much." you reply, and he pulls you closer into a cuddle. "You know you still have presents to open, right?" you ask him.

"I literally don't want to leave this bed. I have no more in me to stay upright." he replies, and you feel smug as well.

Just as much as you're tired out, so is he.

"Happy birthday Jason." you tell him, as you kiss his temple just before he passes out.

[sc0tters]

Broken Hearts and Newfound Promises | Mikko Rantanen

summary: when Mikko gets traded it is finally the push that he needs to ask you out.

request: yes/no

warnings: minor bits of swearing, mentions of a sexual relationship but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.82k

authors note: I finished this weeks update for tommorow and got this announcement when I woke up, so the only logical way to process this with the free time I had was to write about it.

It wasn’t meant to end like this. 

You had met Mikko six years ago after ending up in line for the bathroom at the club.

Music echoed in your ears as you made your way to the bathroom “shit baby there you are!” You felt a hand rest on your back making you almost jump in the process. 

A tall blonde boy stood there “was looking all over to show this nice girl here who my girl was.” The panicked smile on his face made you nod “thanks so much for looking after him.” You placed your hand on his chest feeling him wrap his arm around your waist. 

It made the girl frown “he just gets lost so often.” You added squeezing his cheek “guess you really do have a girlfriend.” She muttered walking off back to the crowd of people. 

The boy smiled as he looked at you “I am so sorry thank you for that.” He pulled away from you, finally giving you back your space “no worries.” You shook your head, knowing that you would have been grateful for the help if the shoe was on the other foot.

You pushed your freshly curled hair out of your face “just one question.” You pursed your lips together “how did you know I was single?” You crossed your arms letting your lips form a smirk when his cheeks turned red. 

He scratched at his throat “I saw you turning down those guys all night.” Mikko pointed out making him run your fingers down his arm “you been watching me huh?” You cocked your head, taunting him. 

You licked your lips “besides how did you know that didn’t mean I was lesbian or something?” That made his cheeks turn red making you laugh “well that one was a gamble but now with the way you’ve been staring at my lips I really don’t think it is the case.” Mikko shrugged bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. 

All of a sudden it seemed you had forgotten that you needed to pee “well why don’t you test your little theory then.” You smiled feeling his other hand travel to the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss.

That memory was one that lived in your brain as a core memory. It was one you held with such joy, but it was funny how fast those memories could be tarnished so fast.

𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗸𝗼 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗛𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘀

The headline stared back at you from your laptop, no matter how much you blinked or rubbed your eyes there was no changing it. Mikko was leaving you and there was nothing that you could do to change it. 

You felt pathetic, feeling like your heart had been taken out of your chest and stomped on before someone tried to put it back in you. You never expected to feel so upset over someone you weren’t meant to care about like that. Mikko wasn’t yours, not really. 

Sure, he was in your bed most nights, celebrating the highs and mourning the lows. Beyond the sanctity of your place and his, it was as if you were just friends. At least that was what you were meant to be, each biting your tongues with every romantic glance someone sent your way. 

Mikko put up with it as he knew you were never going to actually entertain these other guys. But that never made it easy, the looks he would send you were full of love because even if you weren’t his he wished you were. 

Falling into the friends-with-benefits agreement that you had originally suited you both. After getting out of a messy relationship from your side and a long-term one from Mikko’s, you both needed something fun. And it was so easy, getting to call him up when you wanted company or when you craved him in your bed. There was never a time where either of you felt any real pressure as you both got what you needed from the agreement. 

But that all started five and a half years ago and things had changed, Mikko wanted to start settling down which was something he was desperate to do with you. He had this whole plan to finally ask you about going from being the girl who was just in his bed to being at his side, Mikko wanted you to be his girlfriend. 

The boy spent a few nights wanting to scream it from the roof of his apartment building, but now the trade threatened to light a fire up under his ass. He knew that if he didn’t finally talk to you, then he stood to lose you forever. 

A knock came from your door, snapping your attention away from the screen. You stayed quiet, wondering who it could have been “c’mon kisu I know that you’re in here.” Mikko sighed, knocking on your door again “go away.” You mumbled, not ready to see him because in some fragment of your mind if you never saw him then it was not really happening.

Mikko pinched the bridge of his nose, going to knock on your door again before he heard your shuffling in your apartment. Your feet weren’t as quiet on the wooden floor as you would have hoped “don’t tell me you came to say goodbye.” Your head rested against the door, unaware that the boy was doing the same thing on the opposite side. 

The pain in your voice broke his heart “can we please just talk?” The hockey player begged, just wanting to hold you. 

You sighed, taking a step back to finally open the door for him. You stood in one of his hoodies which made your cheeks turn red as he took in the sight of you “fuck.” Mikko’s voice broke seeing how your tears had stained your skin “I can’t believe it.” You cried almost running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

The Fin frowned running his fingers through your hair, feeling your tears soak his shirt “I know kultsi.” He cooed attempting to comfort you.

It broke his heart hearing the sounds of your sobs “it’s not fair.” You shook your head “let it out.” Mikko nodded rubbing your back.

He maneuvered the both of you to get back into the apartment so he could shut the door behind him. With the new sense of privacy, you gripped at his shirt “what do you want to talk about?” You asked, sniffling as you brought your hand up to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie “I couldn’t leave without seeing you.” His words broke your heart even more. 

Mikko tucked your hair behind your ear “I don’t want you to go.” You sighed watching him nod “I don’t want to leave you like this.” Mikko confessed, sucking at his teeth. 

You reached for his hand “then don’t leave me.” You pleaded wanting to get on your knees to beg him if it called for as much “if only it was that simple.” Mikko would have, honestly if he had the choice of never leaving your apartment again he would take it. To him that was an equivalent of winning the lottery.

He watched you sway yourself back and forth “look, I can visit and see you and see you all the time.” Mikko offered but that wasn’t enough “I want you.” Those words him cock his head wondering if he had heard your correctly.

Mikko pushed his hair out of his face “you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.” He went to hold your hand but you stopped him “no Mikko I want you.” You repeated those words, with a little more determination.

You tucked your hair behind your ears “I want to be the one who gets to be the one you come home to.” It was something he already did most nights to begin with “I stopped wanting us to just be sex, I wanted to be the one who gets to support you loud and proud and not just from my living room.” You explained, biting at the inside of your cheek as you watched him remain silent “please just say something.” You begged shutting your eyes as his silence felt like a new level of today’s nightmare. 

Mikko smiled “remember that night when you came to the game that I got that hatty?” He asked as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him “and when I got here, you analysed all of my goals, giving me your full game review.” It was a memory that made your thighs squirm. Mikko spent the night listening to you babble on about how good he had been while he lay between your thighs treating you like you were his last meal. 

You smirked remembering how in awe he was of you that night “I do.” You nodded cocking your head “that was the night where I was this close to asking you to be my girlfriend.” When he went home he kicked himself for not just asking that five-word question. 

He brought his thumb up to dry your cheek “I hate that you cried over this.” It really did break his heart that you were so upset by that news “don’t want to lose you.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders as he nodded “you’re never gonna lose me.” Mikko was honest, you were (un)fortunately stuck with him for as long as time would allow.

You smiled “can I kiss you?” Your question made him grin like a schoolboy “I don’t recall you asking me to be your boyfriend.” His words made you roll your eyes as you went to go back into your apartment. 

Mikko shook his head wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you back to him, his lips locked with yours before you had a chance to berate him. The kiss made your head buzz, feeling his hands grip at your sides “wait.” You pulled away, raising your hand to stop him. 

He grew concerned, wondering if he had overstepped “when do you leave?” Your question reminded him of the gloom that surrounded Colorado right now “only tomorrow afternoon.” You swore you were hearing angels sing around him. 

Mikko watched you push yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him again “how about we spend your last night here then?” You smiled pecking his lips again. 

He smirked picking you up as he threw you over his shoulder “Meeks!” You squealed making him laugh “I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it.” He brought you into your room wanting to spend the night the right way. 

Just one time when he didn’t have to think about the trade because right now that is tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, he wanted to enjoy being your boyfriend and he was certain that you’d enjoy it too.

[rogueddie]

Disabled Steve / Eddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦻

give me a sign

findmeinthewychelm

It was sweet torture the way Steve was pining over him. Robin was sick of listening to him talk about Eddie, but she also hadn’t stopped him yet.

Words : 4,235 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

what would you trade the pain for (i'm not sure)

Library_of_Gage

Steve doesn't bother anyone with his chronic pain; it's something he'd rather keep to himself. And then it spikes in the Upside Down, in front of Eddie Munson, and Steve slowly starts to learn that, sometimes, sharing what hurts does help.

Words : 8,230 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Our Love is Shown in the Letting Go

Xxbottlecapxx

Steve’s mother comes home and has to deal with the fact that she has no idea who her son is, and maybe never will.

Words : 10,189 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Who Am I to Say What Any of This Means?

IndigoFudge

Eddie’s eyebrows are raised. He’s speaking deliberately. “My first grade teacher set up a meeting with Wayne and told him she thought I had autism. So Wayne took me to the doctors and it turned out she was right.”

He is still looking at Steve. Oh. Steve’s been staring at him like an idiot for forty seconds instead of acknowledging this important, incredibly personal detail that he has just shared. Steve remembers eye contact––one, two, three––then answers. “That’s cool.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, carefully. “Have you ever been tested? Because I’ve been noticing… When I look at you, I kinda see some signs.”

Words : 7,371 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

she'll know me crazy, soothe me daily (better yet, she wouldn't care)

jewishrat420

Eddie doesn’t really cry about this anymore. He’s long since shed his own personal tears of pity, spent enough time mourning a different life. He’s accepted it, for the most part, doesn’t really give a shit about being normal or whatever. No one’s normal.

But this…Eddie’s not used to this. He’s never had someone hold his face in their hands, look him dead in the eyes and say, “Eddie Munson. For better or for worse, and fuck, I know this is worse, I want to know you.”

Words : 3,988 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

the beginning of a bad joke

alligator_writes

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

Words : 7,083 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I Took The Good Times, I’ll Take The Bad Times (I Take You Just The Way You Are)

steddieeddie

In 1984, Eddie Munson told Steve he was going to marry him one day laying in the quiet confines of Steve’s room.

In 1985, they broke up. It wasn’t because they wanted to, but because Steve thought they had to. They spent almost an entire year apart, hurting, wondering about what could have been.

In 1986, Steve Harrington was almost fatally injured in the final attack against The Upside Down, against Vecna. He spent seventy six days comatose, and then almost an entire year in the hospital learning how to be a person again. He learns how to open and close his hands, hold things, and how to feed himself again. Steve learns how to stand, how to walk, going from walker to cane by the time he is allowed to go home.

In 1987, he did just that. He goes home.

It was a slow process. Way slower than Steve wanted it to be, but it was worth it.

Sure, his hands were never going to work the same, there was constant pain in his arms and left leg, and he would never walk without a cane, but at least he’s alive.

He made it.

That was what mattered.

Words : 30,101 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[munsonkitten]

They say it’s for his own good. Because he’s dangerous. But Steve doesn’t feel any more dangerous than he did before this whole mess. Like, seriously, he could kill literal monsters with nothing more than a bat covered in rusty nails. He doesn’t feel any more dangerous now than he did when he hit Billy Hargrove with a fucking car or when he held back in all the fights he’s ever lost. Because he could kill fucking monsters. He wasn’t gonna find out if he was capable of killing teenage boys too.

He sees Eddie sometimes.

Eddie looks dangerous, but then he always has. Even if he never was. He always had that look to him, with his leather and chains and heavy boots. Dangerous in a good way.

Now he looks bloodthirsty.

Well, ha, Steve thinks. That’s because he is.

Steve is too, but he doesn’t think that’s grounds for imprisonment. He doesn’t think that’s grounds for being held hostage in the newly reopened and renovated Hawkins Lab.

They say it’s because he’s dangerous, but if that’s the case then they should’ve locked him up years ago. They should’ve seen what was wrong with him back when he was that asshole popular kid at Hawkins High.

Every time he sees Eddie these days it’s when they’re being shoved down hallways. They have Eddie in a mask to prevent biting. Some clear plastic thing that shows his snarling face as he’s pushed. His teeth are sharp and pointed, and he has this wild look in his eyes. There’s blood inside the mask more often than not. Whether it’s someone else’s every time, or if it’s Eddie’s, Steve never really knows. A mix of both, most likely.

They make eye contact and Steve tries to tell him they’ll get out of this mess, and Eddie looks back at him like he wants to believe him, but just can’t.

Steve doesn’t blame him. He’s lost track of how long they’ve been here. He stopped counting after six months, after the lines he carved into his wall with a sharp fingernail — talon, really — became too numerous to hide behind the one pin-up girl poster they gave him for good behavior after the second week.

Weird reward, if you ask Steve. The orderly that put it up for him smirked, said something about tissues in the cabinet in the corner of his room, and then left without another word.

Really fucking weird.

The head scientist comes into Steve’s room. Steve can’t remember his name. Matthews or Mathson or… Something. Doesn’t matter. Not like Steve really needs to know. He’s just called The Doctor and that’s that.

“According to our records, today’s a very special day, indeed. Happy birthday, Steven,” he says, looking down at Steve’s chart.

So it’s February fourteenth… But —

“How old am I?” Steve asks.

“Twenty-two,” the doctor answers.

Twenty two… Which means it’s 1988. Steve’s been here over a year and a half, since June ‘86 when they took him in the dead of night. Things had been weird before that. He’d been having cravings, and Eddie came back from the dead, clawed his way out of the Upside Down all by himself. He came back different, but still the same Eddie that Steve had mourned.

Twenty two years old and he doesn’t even remember turning twenty one.

“Since it’s your birthday,” the doctor continues. “We decided you deserve a reward for being so cooperative during your stay. Something you choose yourself, anything you want — within reason, mind you. Don’t ask to get out of here because that won't be happening. But if we can get it for you, it’s yours to keep.”

“Eddie,” Steve blurts out. “I want Eddie. I want him moved into my cell permanently. Get us bunk beds or some shit.”

“Ah, yes, well,” the doctor sighs. “Mr Munson is quite….”

“Dangerous? Insane? I can keep him in check,” Steve says quickly. “Look, we were friends before all of this and now we’re in the same boat. I understand him. If you want to get through to him, do this for me and I can help.”

None of that is true, of course. He’s not gonna make Eddie do shit, and he really doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. He’s wild, a little more monster than Steve is. It probably has something to do with being stuck in the Upside Down after he died. Different, but still Eddie.

Steve doesn’t blame him for the trouble he’s been causing. He’s seen it firsthand only a couple of times, but sometimes his doctors go missing and never come back. Sometimes they’re covered in blood when they come to see him after being with Eddie.

It’s not hard to guess what happens there.

“We’ll try it,” the doctor says. “But I can’t imagine why that’s what you want.”

He writes something down on his clipboard, clicks his pen with a sigh, and stands.

“I will see what we can do.”

And then he‘s gone.

Steve waits two days. Two days where no one comes to see him, to poke him with needles or flash lights in his eyes. He’s delivered his meals through the slot in his door, but that’s all that happens. He drinks the blood they give him. Animal today, he knows. They switch it up on him, and he’s found he can tell the difference easily now. It’s not the same as human, but it does the job.

It keeps him alive. It keeps him from wanting to tear himself limb from limb because of hunger and thirst. There’s still an itch in his throat and a nagging in the back of his mind saying he’s not satisfied, but it’s better than nothing.

On the second day, he’s told to stand against the back wall, and he complies easily. Complying means rewards — it means he doesn’t get hurt. The first few days he was here he was uncooperative and they beat him. It was too much like being in the Russian bunker beneath Starcourt again.

So he stopped fighting back. He stopped spitting and hissing, he stopped trying to sink his teeth into anything he could reach. And in turn he got rewards. He’s given more time outside his room, more time to sit in a room with a rainbow around the walls and a bunch of old children’s toys.

He knows he’s at Hawkins Lab. He can feel it, can feel something in the back of his head that tells him his family is close. His real family — Robin and Nancy and Dustin and everyone else. He knows he’s in Hawkins Lab and he can’t help but wonder if El lived in the same room as him, if she pushed around the same Hot Wheels car he does when he’s bored.

He stands in his room now, and it’s really a cell, but he doesn’t like to call it that, and he watches as two men carry his bed out. Two more come in with bunk beds that look like two of the regular beds welded together — thin metal frames with thin mattresses. Straight out of a prison.

The doctor comes into the room and he’s carrying a box in his arms. Steve can’t see what’s inside it, but he thinks they might be the few personal belongings Eddie has. The box gets set on the bottom bunk. An orderly comes in with a pile of extra blankets and two pillows. Those get set on the beds, too.

They all leave without a word, but Steve knows he won’t be alone for much longer. He knows that they’re going to get Eddie to him, and soon enough, they’re both going to be able to escape. Together.

Steve doesn’t know how long he sits there on the bottom bunk, but it’s a while. He only spares a single glance into the box, and he sees a spare hospital gown, and some clean underwear inside it. There’s a book sitting on top, tattered and splattered with blood. At least Eddie has that, Steve supposes.

The heavy metal door to Steve’s room opens and Eddie is shoved in, snarling and snapping at the guard behind him, holding his hands in shackles behind his back. They have heavy wool mittens on him, his plastic mask covering the bottom half of his face. Steve’s surprised they don’t just put him in a straitjacket and throw him into a padded room.

They make eye contact, Eddie’s formerly chocolate brown eyes now deep red. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and shows his slightly pointed ears. Steve’s look the same, and his eyes are still mostly brown, but he can see the red swirling around inside them during the few occasions he can look in the mirror.

Eddie sniffs the air through his mask, bares his teeth. Steve can see the blood in his mouth through the clear plastic.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What if Eddie hurts him too? What if he’s… What if he’s not Eddie anymore? If the last bits of his humanity have drained out of him, if he’s been forced to let the monster inside take full control… Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do.

I’d let the monster take me, too, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t want to be that, and in his head he’s holding a snarling beast back with wrought iron bars, in a cell not too different from the one his physical body stands in. He’s gotten this far. It would be a waste to not even try.

The guard leaves Eddie where he stands, still cuffed, and backs away to the door. He slams it shut and locks it, then slides open the food slot. Eddie growls, jerks at his cuffs, trying to get free.

“Munson!” the guard barks. “Back up against the door.”

Eddie backs up until he’s against the door and Steve hears the key unlocking the cuffs around Eddie’s wrists.

The mittens come off next, and both things get pulled through the slot. The guard quickly slides it shut. Eddie is free from his restraints, and now he and Steve are alone.

Read more on AO3

[yuri-is-online]

Hi, there (again)!

If it's not too much trouble, make a second and last request, I can request

Pronto: (5) seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

With Trey, Silver And Sebek?

In case of passing me orders you can discard my order. Take your time and at your pace, bye 🌠🌌✍️💐

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

Hello again yourself! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that this was the most popular prompt huh (ﾟωﾟ；) Sorry I took so long to get back around to this one, I hope it was not too frustrating a wait I find it a bit difficult to wrap my head around Sebek.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Rook is a bit dramatic (Trey), light injury but nothing descriptive (Silver), some misunderstandings quickly cleared (Sebek). The rest of the event requests can be found here.

Trey

"My beloved, hath thou truly forgotten me? Tis I! Your sweetheart!"

In a scene out of a particularly annoying, tropey rom com, the thought dead lover throws themselves into the... indifferent arms of a most unwilling extra around whose shoulders have been draped a lab coat to serve as a makeshift cape. Trey should be focusing on his strawberries, or maybe the grip he has on the watering can, but it is getting much more difficult to ignore the farce going on just out of his line of sight. Sure, Trey trusts you, he isn't worried you are going to leave him for Rook of all people he's just worried that you're uncomfortable. That's it. That's why he keeps glancing at the lab coat and not listening to the dialogue.

"Thine eyes doth not deceive thee?" You know you're supposed to put effort into line delivery, but you literally just got this script ten seconds ago so you hope Rook' expectations are low. "I hath been adventuring in a distant land these many moons, thinking only of returning to thee and thine-" your face immediately wrinkles "Rook I'm not saying this shit."

"Non non," Rook shakes his head, dropping character only for a second "You will not be saying them, your character will be saying them." He settles back into his role making doe eyes up at you as you swear you hear the sound of something snapping just behind you. Probably your patience.

"Thine eyes doth not deceive thee, I hath been adventuring in a distant land these many moons, thinking only of returning to thee and thine embrace." the script calls for Rook to dip you, but instead of Le chasseur d’amour you find yourself gently pulled back by your makeshift cape into the arms of a knight.

"Sorry," the "cape" falls to the ground as Trey spins you into a dip, complete with the lengthy kiss the script called for "but I don't have anything cool to say." And yet the way he holds you, the strain in his smile and the angry slit his eyes have slimmed to is very cool. Very rare is the sight of genuine frustration on Trey Clover's face, rarer still the glare. Rook is well and truly enraptured, and now it's your turn to feel jealous.

"Chevalier des Roses! I certainly hope I did not overstep-" That bastard is grinning, almost like he was deliberately trying to poke the bear.

"Of course not." Trey pulls you up, arm wrapped firmly around your waist. "I just need to get a new watering can from storage and was wondering if Yuu wanted to come with me." Ha "ask" as if he is intending on letting you go, his grip hasn't loosened one bit.

Silver

"I'm sorry we weren't able to be of more help, prefect." The kitchen ghost's mournful face looks painfully out of place, you're so used to seeing their big smiles you almost feel like you're the one who screwed up.

"It's ok, really! Please don't feel bad, I'm not going to quit just because we had one little accident." Technically, it was not a little accident, otherwise you would still be wearing your clothes and not a master chef approved chef's jacket, but in pursuit of enlightenment one must be willing to make a few sacrifices. If making coffee could be considered a culinary pursuit.

"I'm very glad to hear that," some of the ghost's usual pep returns, along with it his seriousness as an instructor "but no more attempts today, you hear me? Make sure to put a compress on your arm when you get back to Ramshackle and put some ointment on it. I'll never forgive myself if your burn gets worse." You give a mock salute, carefully cradling the single thermos of coffee you had managed to salvage from your lessons close to your chest with your non injured arm.

"Aye aye captain, I'll make sure to come back to pick up my shirt after I've changed." And you did fully intended to do that if you hadn't run into the exact person your little delivery was for on your way back to your dorm. Silver pauses when he sees you, with a strange tight look on his face you don't recognize that doesn't disappear as you get closer. If anything it gets worse, and he doesn't snap out of it even when you're directly in front of him.

"Silver?" You try one more time and he startles, face slipping back into his normal listlessness.

"Sorry, I don't really know what came over me." So he says, but his attention remains firmly fixed on the coat even if his look is passive. "I didn't realize there were Master Chef classes going on."

"Oh there aren't, I just had a small accident." You say, subconsciously reaching for your sleeve as if you can hide a burn by drawing attention to it. It's a reflex, much like Silver's reach, his fingers careful not to irritate the bruised skin. "Silver?" You ask, trying to find the words you need to reassure him.

"I don't like red on you." He says, so oddly serious it takes you a second to realize he isn't really looking at the burn, no his attention is on your chef's jacket and it's offensive Heartslabyul badge. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me... I should be more concerned about the burns."

"Funny," you laugh ignoring his embarrassment "I think green looks nice on you."

Sebek

Sebek isn't very good at saying what he means. You know this, you love him in spite of this. It makes him feel very lucky, and he has no real problem telling people this. Silver was by far the person who heard him brag about you the most, even if he attempted to downplay just how happy he was to be with you it wasn't like he could hide very much from his friend. Which was what made this situation so... confusing. Hurtful even, Sebek doesn't have words for what he is feeling because "jealous" just feels petty but "distressed" feels pathetic. And he is neither of those things. In his opinion. Because being jealous is something insecure people do, and he is not insecure nor does he not trust Silver.

So why then why is he in so much physical pain?

"Hmph, I expect short sighted napping from Silver, but I was starting to expect better from you." Sebek can't tell who is more surprised that he isn't shouting, you or him. Hell, his tone is so normal Silver hasn't moved from his slumped position against one of the courtyard apple trees. You had been lying on the grass, waiting for him he knows as a fact even if his hammering heart is doubting it.

"Sorry, I couldn't wrap my head around some of the figures Crewel went over in class so I was up late studying." You sit up as you answer him, Silver's jacket falling off of your shoulders and taking Sebek's narrow gaze with it. "I guess I lost track of time."

"Did you ask Silver for help." It's a question but he doesn't voice it as one, there's genuine hurt on your face that pushes him back from anger into embarrassment and shame. You just look confused, looking down at the coat crumpled across your legs then back up at his still on his person and-

Laughing. You start to laugh and the lightest twinge of anger returns firmly setting his face into a cross between a scowl and a pout.

"H-hey I'm being serious. I'm Lord Malleus's retainer, diligent study is not something I will scold you for! I can help you stay awake!" His begging just makes you laugh harder, which should make him angrier but you're smiling. You are smiling and the silliness of the situation really settles on him. Sebek talks to Silver about you all the time, of course Silver would be just as worried as he would if he found you asleep on the courtyard green. There is no challenge to his honor or ability as a partner here, just the friendly concern over the partner of a brother knight.

"I know you are Sebek." You stand up, scrambling over to return Silver his coat before falling naturally into you place at his side and returning his smug pride to his posture. "Can I ask you some questions about those equations? I remember things better when I picture them in your voice."

"Of course!" Said voice booms back to life, the shout finally doing it's job in cracking Silver awake. "Make sure you don't take your eyes off of me for a second, Yuu!"

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have & To Hold: Part 10

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Series Masterlist

The past week and a half was a blur to you. Your father sacrificed himself to make sure Harrow couldn't touch you or his empire again. Marc was with you every single day since the death of your father. He tried helping you as much as he could, being there for you, holding you when you cried. Still, he felt absolutely helpless.

The funeral was hard. All of your father's allies came to pay their respects as he was laid to rest. At the estate, Yelena was quick to hand you a drink.

"The family heads are waiting for you in your father's office," she said as she took a sip from her own drink.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, "They can't at least give me a day of rest?" Yelena shrugs as she pats your shoulder, "Good luck. Both of you," she nods to Marc and you.

Marc's arm wraps around you and rest on your hip, "We can do this." He kisses your temple and guides you to your father's office.

When you walk in, the low chatter that was going on immediately stops. All eyes are on you. You stare at your father's empty chair and feel like you're doing something wrong, being there without him.

You clear your throat and look around you. You clasp your hands in front of you to prevent fidgeting, "First off, thank you all for being here. I'm," you pause as your words get stuck in your throat, "I'm sure my dad really appreciates it." You run your hands down your black dress, "Um, so I'm assuming this meeting is to discuss the new head of the L/N Family?"

Alexei speaks up, "We're all aware that your father planned to have Spector take over and we all know about your arrangement. However, as respect for you, we just want to make sure this is still what you want."

You haven't thought much about your arrangement with Marc since your father's death. You've been too busy mourning as well as making funeral arrangements to really think about your engagement at all. However, throughout this time, you felt more at peace when he was around. He held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Even when you lashed out at him at the beginning because he didn't talk your father out of his sacrifice, he continued to be there for you. Things drastically changed and now...well, now you can't imagine Marc not being there with you in the future.

You turn to Marc, stepping out of his hold and slipping your hand into his, "Yes," then then turn to the family heads, "I do still intend on marrying Marc and having him take my father's place."

Marc squeezes your hand, "You sure?"

You nod, "I'm sure. There's no one else I trust with my father's organization."

Bucky, from the Barnes Family, speaks up, "I suggest you lovebirds get married soon. Harrow might not have been the only one ballsy enough to pull this shit. The sooner you're married the more serious people will take Spector as the head."

Your shoulder slump. Whether you were marrying Marc or not, you always saw yourself being walked down the aisle with your dad. But he's not here anymore.

Your wedding is straying further and further away than what you dreamt of.

Marc nods at Bucky, "We'll handle it," he glances at you and then back at the group before him, "Well, I think anything else that needs to be discussed can wait until tomorrow. Please enjoy the refreshments and thank you again for coming."

You and he step to the side as the family heads files out of the room. The last to leave was Alexei. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. You let out a little sob and he soothes you.

"There, there, my little sunshine. You'll be okay. You're strong, yes?"

You pull away, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "I have to ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Will you walk me down the aisle of my wedding?"

Alexei looks at you in surprise, "Me?"

"You're like a second father to me, Lexei. Since my father is no longer here-"

"Of course, I'll do it. It would be an honor." He kisses your forehead and a soft smile.

He then turns to Marc and gives him a stern look, "If I hear a word about you mistreating her-"

"You don't have to worry about that, Alexei."

Alexei nods, "Good." Satisfied, he leave the room and you let out a deep breath.

You face Marc and immediately rest your head against him, "There's so much that needs to be done. How far up should be move the wedding? Did we pick a venue? I can't remember. Then we need to pick catering-"

"Hey, hey. No," Marc steps back, holding your by the shoulders, "Don't worry about that right now," he moves his hands to cup your face, "Go up to your room and rest."

"All I've been doing lately has been resting while you handle everything."

He shrugs, "Isn't this what I signed up for?" You open your mouth to object but he shakes his head, "Don't. Your father made sure I was well prepared for anything and everything that may come up being in this position. I'll handle it all. I just-" he pauses to let out a deep breath, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

You give him a soft smile, "Thank you. I-I know I've been so hot and cold with you since this whole arrangement began but...I really can't see anyone else in this position, at my side, than you."

"That's good to know," he murmurs and he kisses your forehead and then rests his against yours, "Go upstairs and rest," he whispers before pulling away and leaving you in your father's office.

Maybe you should just tell everyone to leave? Steven suggests in Marc's head.

"I can't. I need to show face, mingle with the families and friends."

Y/N needs us, though.

"I just want to give her some space, Steven. Let her have some time alone. She hasn't had much of that lately."

If you're sure.

"I am."

_________________________

When you woke up, it was dark out. You check the time on your phone it reads that it's past midnight. Do you have several notifications and unread messages from people? Yes, but right now you just want to see where Marc is.

You roll out of bed and pull on one of your old hoodies. You call out for Marc in case he might be near by. You were greeted with silence.

You descend the stairs seeing the kitchen light on. It's too late for your family's personal chef to be here so you're sure it's Marc.

When you enter the kitchen, you see Marc. He's sitting at the counter munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a mug of hot tea beside him.

"Marc?"

He looks up, eyes wide as if he'd been caught in a crime. He quickly swallows his food and sets the sandwich onto his plate, "Oh, um, hello," you hear the British accent and immediately know it's Steven.

"Oh. Hi, Steven."

"You alright?" he looks at you with concern.

You sigh, "I will be. I just need time."

He nods in understanding and gestures to the sandwich, "You want one? Or there's leftovers from the caterers. Marc snagged a little bit of everything since he wasn't sure what you'd want to eat later."

"That's thoughtful of him," you say, going to the fridge and seeing several tupperwares packed with food. You pull each one out, setting them on the island counter, "You want me to heat you up some?"

"Oh no, I'm fine with my sandwich. I'm vegan so I couldn't eat a lot of that stuff."

"Ah. Marc never told me that. I'll make sure to get you vegan options. Do you have any preferences of brands or milk alternatives?"

"You don't need to-"

"I want to, Steven. We'll technically be living together too. I want to make sure you have everything you need."

He softly smiles at you, "You're-That's really sweet of you, love."

You nod, also giving him a soft smile, "Of course." You continue to pile a bit of everything onto your plate and heating it up in the microwave.

You two eat in silence, but it wasn't awkward. You're scrolling through your phone while Steven reads a book on Egyptology. You figure that this would be a good time for you to get to know him more.

"Do you enjoy Egyptology?" you ask him. He looks up and you point to his book.

He breaks out into a smile, "I absolutely love it. The history, the literature, the religion. It's all so fascinating. The Pyramid of Khufu at Giza is the largest Egyptian pyramid. It weighs just as much as 16 Empire State buildings!" He says the fact with excitement and you break out into a grin. His excitement is contagious.

"Tell me more."

Steven snorts, "Oh no. If you do, I'll never shut up."

"I don't want you to shut up, Steven." You bring yourself closer to him and Steven's a little taken back by your actions.

"Oh, um, are you sure?" You can tell Steven's hesitant by the way he starts fidgeting with the thermal shirt he's wearing. The sleeves pulled all the way down to cover a majority of his hands.

"I mean, if you want to. I don't want to force you-"

"No, no, no! That's not it. It's just...I tend to ramble on too much and people get annoyed of me."

You place a reassuring hand on Steven's, "I promise that won't happen. Besides, I think it'd be good we get to know each other, right? Since, you know, I'm marrying Marc and you're a part of him."

"But it's late. You're not tired?"

You snort, "I slept for hours, Steven. I think I'll be fine. You?"

"Same."

"Then that settles it," you stand, "We can head to the library. There's a fireplace there and it's very cozy."

"Lead the way, love," Steven says with a big grin and follows you, exuding excitement.

[nian-7]

I have a request if thats okay for you! Take your timee!!

The reader gets stabbed in the chest And literally coughing blood and shit and dies and literally a minute later they are like "hi :3" (they literally have a shit eating smile as if they didnt just die a few minutes ago) while they are literally wasting tears for them and they just look at the reader still crying but looks like theyre about to slap the reader, the reason for them not dying just yet is because they literally have two lives and just used one for this (lets say crack if you will lol.) Ty!!

Includes: Jing yuan, Yanqing, Blade, Serval

Y anon </33

hello! this is a funny concept so please enjoy!

Serval, Jing Yuan, Yanqing x gn!reader

✧having two lives

✧crack, tw: blood, injuries

" It's gonna be alright, (name)- " She was kneeled beside your bleeding body in the snowy outskirts of Belobog. It had just been a short trip out and neither of you had expected to get attacked. You tried getting up as she forced you back to laying down. " Please, just lay down while we wait for the Silvermane Guards. " She had a sad look on her face as she spoke.

" I'll- " You coughed, making her flinch as she saw blood come out from your mouth. " I'll be- okay.. " Your breath was getting shallow as she helped you sit up to prevent you from choking on your own blood.

" Just rest, it'll be okay, yeah? They'll be here soon to take you to a doctor. " She assured, not wanting you to feel anxious or scared.

" You know.. " You started, looking over at her. " You really are a great girlfriend. " You gave a weak smile as you felt her squeeze your hand. She felt you go limp as she held you up, your hand no longer grabbing her own.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at you, death had finally come to take you after you had bled out.

Your nose then scrunched up.

" Gross, what is that smell? " You opened your eyes, looking at Serval then back down at you. " Don't cry, I'm alive. " You smiled, her face was covered in disbelief.

" You- but you died? " She wiped a tear that was in her eye.

" Yeah but, I have two lives! Two! " You put up two fingers, much like a peace sign, and put it towards her. " I just used one so I have one more! " She sighed and hugged you tightly.

" ...Thank god. "

You found yourself being carried in the General's arms after you had been fatally wounded on a mission. You'd manage to get away even so, he feared you had little time left.

" I'm sure you will be alright, (name). " He looked down at you in his arms as he headed back towards the Luofu. " You must not worry. "

" Ah.. yeah, but it really hurts- Like really, really hurts. " You winced as you touched the wound on your abdomen.

" Refrain from touching it, I would not like for you to get an infection on top of such a fatal wound. " He had a stern yet caring look as he looked at you.

" Sorry, I just need to close my eyes for a bit.. " You felt your eyes fluttering closed as his eyes widened at you.

" (name), please try to keep your eyes open. We'll be th- " Your eyes had already closed, your body limp in his arms. Your weight now felt like dead weight as he stopped, looking down at your now lifeless form. " Ah.. " He needed to get you back as soon as he could, he shouldn't mourn you here.

You let out a sigh, your eyes opening once again.

" Sorry about that- Seems like I died though, huh? " You looked up at him. " I'm fine now, onwards! Back home! "

You heard him sigh as he started walking again. " You got me there. I truly believed you had died on me. It was not a pleasant feeling. I do have many questions for you alas, you should rest for now. "

" (name)! (name)! Don't fall asleep! " Yanqing sat beside you has you held your side. He had called for back up and a doctor but refused to leave you alone when you were like this. " You gotta stay awake, okay?! " His voice betrayed him as he talked to you, sadness was evident in it.

" Alright, alright.. I'm trying, " You let out a laugh. " I'll be fine, don't worry, okay? Just a little stab wound isn't going to get me. " You squeezed his hand gently.

" Just- stay awake! " He held your hand close to his chest as he looked at you. " You just gotta! " You gave a nod back as his eyes became glassy.

" Don't cry, Yanqing- " You coughed, going limp for a minute. Yanqings eyes started to water as he gently shook you.

" (name)?! " You let out a shaky breath a moment later, tears had started to come out of his eyes. He hugged you tightly.

" Yanqing! Not so tight! " You patted his back, signaling for him to loosen his grip.

" I'm just- just super happy you're okay! " He wiped the tears from his eyes. " Don't fall asleep again, okay? I'm going to stay right here and make sure you don't! "

" Alright, I promise.. " You smiled at the boy.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 1.28

My Time Will Tell Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: Mourning, another character death, hostage situation with the gang at the end of Season 1. Word Count: 2,796

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You handed the origami flowers you made with Yeong-su and Su-yeong to Mr. An and he walked over to place it on Jae-heon’s grave. “You died when you should have lived,” he started saying. “And I lived when I should have died.”

Your face remained blank save for the tears that streamed down your cheeks, but your eyes lit up in recognition when you noticed Ji-su had walked in. She walked out just as quickly after seeing Jae-heon’s grave, and you couldn’t blame her. 

You gave each of your siblings a kiss on the head before going after her. 

It didn’t take long to find her since she was only a few rooms down the hallway, but your heart broke when you heard her sobs. They quieted down when she heard your footsteps approach and you kneeled down in front of her. When she saw the sympathy and similar pain in your eyes, she bursted into tears again and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around her shoulders and bringing her into your embrace. You held her as she sobbed and you let your own tears fall. You knew her pain was much worse, especially since you could see the obvious love the two of them held for each other. You just wished you could help her but it was death. Death wasn’t something you could stop, and it took time to grieve. So even if you couldn’t take away all her pain right now, you would try your best with the comfort you could provide. 

She didn’t fight you physically but she tried to warn you to stay away from her. “I’m nothing but bad luck. Everyone around me dies,” she sobbed and you shushed her. 

“None of that is your fault. Jae-heon would never blame you for his death, and I know that for a fact. Don’t blame yourself for things you cannot control.”

She sighed with a sob at that and you hugged her tighter. 

You were simultaneously surprised and not when Eun-yu walked in. She placed a pack of chocolates in front of the girl next to you with a soft glare. “Eat this. You know you are always ugly, but you really look like shit right now.”

You glared at her and opened your mouth when Ji-su cut you off with the same speech about staying away from her. 

“You want to live, right?” She started. “Just act like you did before. Nothing good will happen if you’re near me,” her voice started to crack. “Get away from me if you want to live,” she sobbed. “I’m nothing but bad luck.”

“Oh jeez,” Eun-yu scoffed and you knew she was about to say something rude. “You really hate yourself, don’t you.”

Called it.

“Everyone around me keeps on dying,” Ji-su started crying again and you stroked her hair softly. “Whether they kill themselves or get killed by monsters-”

“Enjoying your pity party?” Eun-yu interrupted.

“Eun-yu,” you scolded with a glare. She rolled her eyes but you could see the genuine worry in her gaze. 

She slid down the wall and started telling both of you about her story. About how her parents died in a car crash on the way to a ballet recital she wanted to see. How her brother quit medical school to pay for her ballet classes. How he didn’t blame her even when she thought he should have. 

You wanted to hug her too but you knew that would be something she wouldn’t enjoy. 

Once she was done talking, she looked over at the sword she had brought over. It was Jae-heon’s and even though it was partially broken, she still reached over to grab one of Ji-su’s hands and wrap it around the handle. 

“You don’t need to make yourself miserable. Things are bad enough as it is,” she told her before standing up and exiting the bathroom. You watched her go with a warm feeling. Even though she didn’t show it very well, it was clear Eun-yu cared about everyone in this building. 

You had followed Eun-yu out of the bathroom shortly after she left when Ji-su asked you for some space since she just wanted to be alone for a bit. 

Now, about an hour later, you were in the basement with Yeong-su, taking turns watching outside through the binoculars with him. You turned around when you heard footsteps and saw Mr. An and Yi-kyung walk in. Mr. An took a seat next to you on the stone platform and you looked at him. “Halabeoji,” you called, addressing him with the same name Yeong-su and Su-yeong had resorted to calling him by. Yeong-su looked over a little from where he was looking out the window but returned his gaze outside quickly. 

“Let me ask you a favor,” he asked Yi-kyung. “There’s something inside this place. We must find it.”

“Find what?” She asked. 

“I don’t know. An underground tunnel or a bunker or something.”

‘Oh. I guess he wasn’t lying when he was telling that story yesterday when he was drunk,’ you thought to yourself. 

“What do you plan to do?” The woman asked him abruptly. 

“We will use it to hide,” he declared determinedly. “People keep dying. Young people with their whole lives ahead of them are dying. I believe that you’ll survive this. I can tell from your face.”

She looked down before the conversation was cut off by Yeong-su grabbing your attention. 

“Unnie, halabeoji, look.”

You let Mr. An take the binoculars first and look out before he gave them to you. You saw a large army truck driving in the direction of your building and your heart rate sped up. You gave the binoculars to Yi-kyung so she could also see and the looks on all your faces were intense. 

“Is the army coming to rescue us?” Yeong-su asked innocently. The gut feeling told you the answer to his question would be a no but you couldn’t find the courage to say that to him. Instead, you just rubbed his back. 

Mr. An sighed before turning to Yi-kyung and you. “Move out. On your own. I’ll greet our guests.”

“What?” Yi-kyung asked. 

“The soldiers, you can't trust them. You might not understand,” he explained and the expression on her face turned somber. 

“I do understand.”

Mr. An chuckled lightly before turning to Yeong-su. “You have a sidekick. Yi-kyung is a secret agent. She’s just like you.”

Yeong-su turned to face the woman beside you and you spoke to the older man. “I can’t do anything. I lost my axe and I’m already injured so I’m not all that useful,” you protested. 

He hummed, thinking for a minute. “Then you should hide with your brother. Your mission will be to stay hidden and not get caught!” He said. His voice was still playful for the sake of Yeong-su and you worried your lip. 

“What about Su-yeong? I need to protect her too.”

“I will protect her. Don’t you worry, okay?”

You nodded reluctantly and allowed yourself to be led along with Yeong-su into the building again. After a while of looking, you all found a vent and you helped Yeong-su climb in. You talked a bit more to Mr. An and Yi-kyung before you all split up and you climbed into the vent with your brother. You hugged him closely while he sobbed quietly and placed your hand on his mouth when a few strange people with guns walked by. You saw them dragging Mr. An and nearly gasped but you were able to hold yourself together. He smiled at the vent and in a manner of quick thinking and paranoia, you grabbed Yeong-su and placed him on the little area above the vent’s entrance. He sat there and looked at you with confusion. For a second you thought you really were just being paranoid but you were glad that you did it when one of the men came back into the hallway and pointed the gun at the vent. He opened it and saw you immediately. 

“I fucking knew it. Get the fuck out here,” he sneered with a smirk. You held your hands up and avoided looking at Yeong-su as you came out. 

“Okay, okay. I’m coming out just don’t shoot,” you pleaded with him, carefully climbing out of the vent and stepping down. You nearly fell when he grabbed the collar of your shirt and started dragging you away with the gun pressed against your head. 

When he dragged you into the lobby, you saw the other residents huddled up against each other. Some were crying while others just looked scared. You saw Mr. An next to Su-yeong shushing her. The man pulling you shoved you into everyone and you tripped over your own feet. Just as you expected to feel yourself hit the ground, you were caught by familiar arms. 

Though Hyun-su held you softly, his eyes glared at the man who pushed you. He continued to glare even when you untangled yourself from his arms to hug Su-yeong. 

Mr. An whispered in your ear, “What about Yeong-su? Is he okay?” 

“He’s okay,” you whispered back. “Everything’s okay.”

The man who pushed you suddenly held up a red crayon/chalk. He whistled as he circled the group, drawing a line around all of you. 

“It’s a bit bigger than last time,” one of the thugs teased. 

The man in the hat with the red bandana around his neck - the same man who dragged you to the group - smirked. “Should I measure the area every time?” He asked but didn’t wait for an answer as he addressed everyone in the circle. “This is your jail now,” he laughed.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and Ji-eun started stumbling. Everyone screamed in horror as she fell to the ground. Mr. Han got pushed into the ‘jail’ as well. He started crawling toward Ji-eun to help her but got pulled back by everyone. 

“No, Mr. Han! Stay here, they’re going to kill you too!”

“Please! What are you doing?” He screamed to the leader of the group who was the same man who shot the girl. You all watched as the light drained from her eyes and she passed away. “How could you kill her? How could you?”

“You’re so emotional,” the man with the red bandana laughed. “Are you going to cry for everyone?” He looked down and started nudging Mr. Han’s arms with his gun. “Mister, you crossed the line. Go inside.”

“Just squeeze in,” the leader said. “That’s your home. A tiny home,” he smiled. You wanted to run up to him and smack that smirk off his scar-ridden face but you couldn’t. It would just be a death sentence. 

You sat down next to Mr. Han with Su-yeong and everyone followed suit. Soon you were all huddled together sitting on the floor with Hyun-su sitting next to you, pressing his side against yours just enough to reassure you of his presence while not making it too obvious of his concern and care about you. The cries quieted down and everyone sat silently, trying to process everything that was happening. 

The leader climbed up some stairs so he was elevated and started talking. “My name is Shin Jung-seop. Why don’t we all just get along without fighting?” He suggested. You wanted to laugh at the irony of that statement. They were the ones who came in here and killed one of the residents yet they wanted to ‘get along’?

“How can you say that after what you did?” Mr. An said exactly what you were thinking. One of the men held up a gun to his head and you shoved Su-yeong’s head into your chest to direct her sight away from it. “How can you treat people like this? We’re not animals!”

“I’m sorry,” the leader ‘apologized’ and held up his gun, shaking it a bit. “This is all I know. If you all do as I say, I won’t kill any of you.”

“So… What do you want from us?” Eun-hyuk asked. Ever the brave one holding the role of the leader, his voice did not quiver and he showed no signs of fear. It was something you admired about him. 

“We should get to, uh, know each other,” the man explained, stepping down the stairs and approaching the group. You pulled Su-yeong closer to you to get her away from anyone that would approach and it seemed to catch the leader’s eye. His eyes narrowed in on where Hyun-su’s hand had unconsciously protectively wrapped around the wrist of the hand not holding your sister and he smirked. The sight of the grin sent a sense of dread down your spine. “I bet you’re curious about us, too.”

Eun-hyuk stood up and you wanted to smack everyone in the circle. Why was everyone so desperate to be brave and stand up to the people who literally have guns and are more than willing to shoot them? “Why don’t you tell us? Where were you before you came here? What happened out there?”

“They were dead,” the man told him apathetically. “All of them.”

“Did they just die? Or did… you kill them?” Eun-hyuk asked forwardly. You wanted to smack him upside the head. 

“It was a small church,” the man started to tell his story after a beat of tense silence. “They’d had it fortified well, so I got my hopes up, but all of them were already dead. What’s interesting is there were no signs of a monster attack. They had all killed each other,” he said and took a step closer to the bespectacled boy. “You shouldn’t be worrying about monsters. No. Humans are… the scariest.”

He giggled under his breath while Eun-hyuk looked down and clenched his jaw. The smile on his face was menacing and it made you anxious. 

Suddenly, a guy with spiky hair in a bright red hoodie and a lot of piercings came into the room and walked up to the leader with another guy behind him. Both guys gave you bad vibes but something about the second guy was a special type of unnerving. The type that you got whenever you got attacked by a monster. You shrugged off that thought though as the guy in the red started talking. “What?”

“What?” The leader asked in response.

“Ui-myeong said you were looking for me.”

The leader looked over his shoulder to the second guy - Ui-myeong - with a questioning gaze but he just shrugged and softly shook his head.

“Hmm? I wasn’t.”

“You son of a bitch!” The man yelled at Ui-myeong, turning around to face him and glaring at him. Everyone around you gasped at the sudden loudness but you couldn’t look away from the guy. There was something about him that made you feel uneasy. He seemed to notice your stare because he looked directly at you. His blank face and eyes showed nothing but you still thought it was weird. 

“Did you find anything?” The leader asked the man in the red with a laugh, drawing his and Ui-myeong’s attention back to him. You sighed in relief when he looked away. So far, despite the uneasy feeling he gave you, he was the one of the group you felt most safe with. He was the only one who hadn’t done anything particularly violent. 

That didn’t mean you actually felt safe around him though. 

“There’s a girl. She’s hurt.”

Ji-su...

Eun-hyuk’s face showed his worry for a second before he schooled it back to normal. 

“Stop frowning,” the leader scolded playfully. “These people are already scared.”

He walked over to Ui-myeong and swung his arm over his shoulders before walking off. The man in the red walked off in the other direction before being stopped by another thug. “You left her alone? Why? Was she not your type? Can I have her?”

“I’m saving her for later,” he said and it made you terrified for the safety of Ji-su. 

Eun-yu tugged Eun-hyuk back down to the ground and started reprimanding him. “Are you crazy? Stop standing up to them.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed like that, Eun-hyuk,” you butted in, scolding him as well. 

“I did it because I wanted us to live,” he rebutted.

“By provoking them?” You asked sarcastically. 

He ignored you and turned to Hyun-su. “We have to wait.”

“Until when?” The boy asked. 

Eun-hyuk leaned in to whisper even softer. “It seems like they killed soldiers and stole their weapons and ammo. They only have a few guns and there are dozens of monsters out there.”

“We have to do something,” Hyun-su insisted. 

“When the time is right… we’ll act,” Eun-hyuk told him reassuringly. “You’re not the only weapon we have.”

~

Taglist <3

@hyeon-yi

@haowonbins

@mythical-mushrooms13

@visualconcern

@yomsy

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Little Braids

Peter Parker x Platonic Parent Figure Reader

Summary: You tell Peter about your braids and he wants some.

Warnings: very angsty, still mourning over major character deaths

Notes: This is set sometime after DSMOM, reader is some kind of immortal being (could just be a longer lifespan than humans, like Asgardians), reader has magical powers, reader and Peter live together

Word Count: 1,017

You stood at the sink, washing some dishes when Peter came out of his room. He had just woken up so he was sleepy eyed and his hair was messy and fluffy. You looked at him and smiled for a moment.

"What?" He laughed out as he noticed you staring.

"How come you always put gel in your hair?"

"I don't really like the fluffy thing"

"Really? It's so cute!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you look adorable when you come out in the morning with your fluffy bed hair"

"I have kinda thought about doing something different but I don't know"

"I think you'd look great"

"Thanks. While we're on the subject, why do you always have little braids in your hair?"

"They're for the people I've lost"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything"

"No, it's okay. Most people don't care or sometimes don't even notice, it's nice to talk about them"

"Oh okay, well then, who are they for?"

"The two behind my ears are for Tony and Nat, the two at the top of the right side of my head are for two old friends from Asgard"

"You know people from Asgard, that aren't Thor?"

You laughed lightly at his intrigue "Yes, I knew many people in Asgard. These two are for Thor's mother and brother"

"Loki? The guy who invaded New York?"

"He wasn't always like that, something bad happened that made him snap. He was actually very sweet when he was younger"

"Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

"Yes, Frigga taught us magic, I can't even count the hours Loki and I practised seidr together"

"That's the magic you use?"

"Not all of the time, I used a variety of mixed magic. Some seidr, some mystical arts Doctor Strange magic, I never know what they call that, it's had a few names. I have magic naturally within me as well"

"Like Wanda?"

"Yeah, like Wanda"

You look down for a moment, remembering your old friend "See these two braids on my left, those are for Wanda and Vis, and the two smaller ones next to them are for Billy and Tommy"

"Who are Billy and Tommy?"

"Wanda wasn't very well after what happened to Vision, no one would be, and she used her magic on a small town"

"I remember that, it was on the news"

"Yes, well, she also created fictional children, Billy and Tommy"

"Oh"

"The thing is in every other universe they're real, just not this one"

"Oh, is that why Wanda went kinda...."

"Yeah, yeah it is"

You took a deep breath and gripped the kitchen counter tightly, sending a small crack through it.

"Shit, not again" You muttered under your breath.

"I can go to my room or go patrolling if you want"

"No, it's fine. I need to be able to deal with this eventually"

You took another deep breath and smiled at Peter "So, you wanna do something different with your hair?"

"Uh, yeah"

"What are you thinking? I used to be a hairdresser for a while so I can help"

"You were a hair dresser?"

"Yeah, I think it was the 1950s or 60s on earth at the time, I get a bit mixed up when I go from planet to planet"

"Wow, that's pretty cool"

"Thanks, so you got any ideas?"

"I kinda really liked your braids, you know, how they mean something. If that's okay, I'm sorry, I just shouldn't have said anything"

"No, no, that's fine, it's kind of one of the cutest things ever. You wanting to be like me, because I'm a super duper amazing role model"

He let out a small chuckle "Yeah, you're pretty fantastic"

"So, do you want one for Tony and one for May?"

"Yeah and um I though maybe two little ones for Ned and MJ, I know they didn't die but"

"I get it. To you they are gone. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything"

"I get it, there are universes to save and you were busy"

Neither of you said anything for a moment, the tension made the air feel thick.

"Wait, who's the other braid for, the one sorta near the middle?"

"Steve, I still visit him but, he-he's not the same. The Steve Rogers I knew has been gone for a long time"

"I'm sorry"

"Ah well, it's all a part of getting older I suppose" You joked as you bit back the tears forming in your eyes "So, four then?"

"Yeah"

Peter sat down and you put the braids on the sides of his head, just above his ears. He got up to look in the mirror and came out with a big smile on his face.

"These are amazing, thank you"

"N-no problem, kid"

"What's wrong?" He saw you sitting on the couch fiddling with your hands and sniffling.

"Nothing, 's fine"

"Did I do something wrong? Is it the braids? I'm really sorry"

You looked Peter straight in the eyes and cupped his face in your hands "Peter, you never need to apologise to me, I'm here for you no matter what and I'll always be here for you. You are more than I ever could have asked for and you make everyday better. I want you to feel comfortable with me and I don't want you to feel like you need to apologise for everything"

"I just, I feel like I mess up everyone's lives just by being in them and I-I don't wanna lose you too"

"Sweetheart" You said softly, quietly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and placed your hands on the back of his neck, stroking his hair gently. You planted a small, sweet kiss to the top of his head and rested your head on his, holding him close for a moment. His arms moved to your waist, hugging you back tightly, too afraid to let go.

"In case you hadn't noticed, my life can't get much more messy"

He laughed softly through quiet sobs.

"I love you Peter Parker and that will never change"

"I love you too"

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342. @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse