#hollow is our chest [headcanons & shit]

[greatwrath]

Azrael's Epithets, explained.

I've talked about this a bit before, but I wanted to expand on it. It's about Azrael's name, her epithets, and the prevalent belief (among angels, demons, and humans) that Azrael is not a person but a weapon.

Prior to Azrael's exile, almost no one called Azrael by her name. This is primarily because of her rank as an Archangel, and because Azrael very much insisted on maintaining strict formalities with the angels in her service. She must keep a substantial distance between herself and everyone as a defence. So, her Lieutenants would just call her 'Archangel'.

Only the other Archangels were permitted to call Azrael by her name, though they would mostly choose to call her 'sister'.

Azrael was also and still is known as 'the Dark Star' because she is seen as Lucifer's (The Morning Star) other half, like a reflection. This may also have arisen from a rumour that Azrael is actually Lucifer's twin.

Another of her epithets is the most well-known one, it's 'the Great Wrath'. This is in reference to Azrael being the personification of the Almighty's rage and vengeance. Everyone in Heaven and Hell knows who you are talking about when you say 'the Great Wrath'.

Then, there is 'the Terror of the Nile' or 'the Terror of Men'. The Terror of the Nile came about after, you guessed it, the ten plagues of Egypt. Azrael left Egypt traumatized for centuries after the deaths of the firstborn, not only because she killed thousands upon thousands of children in a single night (including the future Pharoah) but because she brought a storm with her that wiped out crops and destroyed homes from Ta Shemaw (Upper Egypt) to the Nile Delta. Suffice it to say that the people of Egypt feared dark clouds for a long time afterwards. People also told stories about how all the oil lamps, hearths, and torches in Egypt blew out at once when Azrael came to Earth that night.

Do these epithets, used in substitution for Azrael's name, contribute to a deep sense of depersonalization for Azrael? Why, yes, they do. For the most part, they bind her to the past, a past which is filled with trauma. She won't ever escape them, and she knows that.

After her exile, she encourages people to call her Azrael because, despite her hopelessness, she longs to be a person who is capable of more than just destruction.

[lunarrumor]

CLINGY BAKUGOU

after him and deku sort out all their shit and they're like,,,, best friends again they immediately revert to how they were when they were children

- they have sleepovers all the time which is usually just because they were watching an all might documentary for the 1743th time and bakugou fell asleep in midori's bed

- and as we know bakugou likes to spread out so he ends up like,, basically laying on top of deku and squishing him but deku doesn't mind because he's used to it and it feels like old times, with the warmth of kacchan replacing the blanket bakugou kicked off the bed

- and when they wake up katsuki goes down to make breakfast and when deku gets there he immediately latches on to him bc deku was always the one person he could be unashamdely touchy and clingy with and he wouldn't push him off or tease him he would just accept kastuki's weight on his back and move along with his day

- and all of their classmates are like ????????

- 'i knew you guys made up or whatever but what the fuck is this'

- kaminari thinks he was hit with a quirk and accidentally sent into an alternate universe where bakugou doesnt just accept touch but initiates it because there is seriously no other explanation for why 1a's resident troll who usually spends his days warding everyone off of his metaphorical bridge is now clinging to the class sunshine like this is a completely normal tuesday morning and not the dawn of denki's existential crisis

- so anyway back to our regularly scheduled programming of ~clingy bakugou headcanons~

- he sits next to him on class movie nights, snuggling so close to him on the couch that he basically pulls deku into his lap and the class gives them teasing looks, which almost makes katsuki want to glare at everyone and huff angrily and maybe storm out for good measure but deku just rests his head on his chest and suddenly he's got a face full of fluffy green hair and he couldn't possibly move now because then he would have to move deku

- he's always leaning back in his chair and into deku's space because just being closer to him makes him happy and when he's separated from him for too long it makes his skin itch (which is sort of pathetic really, katsuki thinks, but that's also the kind of thinking that made him push away deku in the first place and so he thinks it's fair that he's just making up for lost time. besides, deku would never leave him, right?)

- (wrong) deku leaves,,, without katsuki even getting to see him before he's gone, and suddenly he's touch starved all over again and the itch under his skin has turned into nausea and hurt because the one person he thought would never leave him just did and the one person he let himself rely on has left him and now katsuki feels wholly empty and it's all his own fault because if he had treated deku right from the start maybe he wouldn't have left him,,,, or maybe if he hadn't let him in, maybe if he kept his walls up and didn't open that little deku-sized door it wouldnt feel like his heart and soul is pouring out of him right now and leaving him hollow

- kirishima tries to comfort him and his touches are nice, but they're also not the same. when he leans on kiri's shoulder all he sees is red not green, and when he leans back in his chair all he feels is the cool air of nothing, and then that stupid guy from the sports festival with the eyebags,,, he only takes solace in the memory of deku beating his ass in their battle

- and he misses all the hugs between training, the hands reaching out to pick him up after they spar, the movie night snuggles, hair playing, and the quick hugs when he's in the kitchen

- he misses feeding deku some of sato's pastries, which is really just him shoving food in deku's mouth bc they were just training and deku commonly forgets to eat with all the other stuff running through his brain

- he just misses his daily dose of deku cuddles and he hates that the one time he let deku go, suddenly he's gone

anyway this was not supposed to turn into angst and im kinda not that happy with it but i just want some clingy bakugou. if anyone wants to add on pls do !!!!!

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

hiya !! i love you lots and lots !!💖 all your writing is absolute gold 🥺💕💕💕 your answers are so detailed and sweet, makes my heart go doki doki — if you’re still taking requests & it’s not too much trouble could i ask for C U Y for mozart perhaps ? many a thank 💖💕💖💕💖💕

Hello!! Omg of course you can sweetheart, thank you for such sweet praise! I do my best, I hope you enjoy these answers for our dearest Mozart~ 💖💖💖 Ily3!! it’s always a pleasure to see you!!! :D 💕💕💕

I placed a cut before the last one because it was long, but all you need to do is click to see the rest! All wholesome, no content warnings ;)

(These are so long you can hear the Mozart stan in me OTL the limit of my Wolfie love does not exist)

Fluffy ABC Headcanons listed here for requests!

C = Cuddling (how does he like to cuddle?)

(Awwwww shit, I’m softe ;-;)

Mozart tends to be a very private man about his love, so I don’t see him cuddling too much in any kind of public space. The only exception to this rule, however, is that blasted carriage! Though he’s a little mortified he needs comforting, he will melt into MC’s arms when they have a particularly bumpy/bad carriage ride. Usually he’ll try to content himself with holding her hand, or just chatting with her--leaning his head close to her shoulder. But she seems to sense how overwhelmed he is this time; how his hands are locked together to conceal their shaking, his jaw visibly tightening. She’ll draw him into her, settling his head against her shoulder/chest--right where he can hear her heartbeat. He’ll freeze at first before he sinks into her embrace, arms wrapping around her waist. His ears are burning with color, his fair skin easily revealing a blush, but she knows now isn’t the time to tease him about it. His breathing will calm bit by bit, and he’ll settle quickly as his grip around her tightens a little. He’s pouting but it’s clear just how much he needed this, murmuring “Danke, Meine Liebe.” She just drops a kiss to the side of his head, signalling there’s no need for any shyness or thanks, she’s happy to do it after all c;

Another way I see them cuddling is at night in their bed no sexy times, get your head out of the gutter kids. Usually he’ll be doing revisions and composing well into the night, mulling over possible adjustments and melodies single-mindedly. He’ll be sitting up against the headboard, sheet music in his lap as he reviews each page. He loves it when she just climbs into bed and settles against him; whether that means fully climbing into his arms and resting against his chest, or just laying her head against his stomach/lap. He’ll smile fondly and stroke her hair, letting the smooth texture calm him into clarity as she dozes off. These are the moments when inspiration finds him most powerfully, the lovely sight of his muse working wonders.

U = Upset (how does he act when she’s upset?)

Oh my god send help, send help he needs some milk!!! 

All jokes aside, I truly think Mozart is at a loss at the sight of her upset ;-;. If he’s not the source of the distress, he immediately goes into comfort and resolution mode. He will try to calm her with all the sensitivity she deserves, offering a hanky and holding her close if she’s crying. He hates to see her cry, but he also understands that in this moment she needs to let it all out, to just feel it through before they can do the work of fixing things. He'll murmur sweet nothings--not that he wants her to stop crying--but that he’s here for her, that it’s all going to be okay and that’s a promise. When she’s ready to talk or feeling up to sharing he will listen intently, silent as a grave, until she’s communicated her feelings. 

When she feels heard and comforted, only then will he ask her to wait a moment. He’ll return with freshly made hot cocoa--only the best for Meine Liebe--and hopes the warmth will be able to help soothe her further, focusing her senses elsewhere. If she wants it, he will play music for as long as it takes to relieve any stress/crying headaches. When she manages to fall asleep from the exhaustion, he’ll tuck her into bed and hold her close. He will turn off the lights, but by no means is he going to sleep. He will spend another few hours seething with rage at whoever/whatever it was that hurt her so that she doesn’t have to see him like that (he doesn’t want to distress her further). Or, if it’s something more abstract, he will spend that time trying to puzzle out a solution.

If she’s only mildly upset, he’ll call Schelm to the balcony and hope the fluffy friend will be able to take her mind off of things. He’ll hug her close and rock her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, waiting until she just relaxes against him. As mentioned before, he’ll make hot cocoa, play music, ask her about the flowers she’s tending; just about anything he knows will make her perk up in an instant. He’s pretty simple and straightforward, but it’s because he pays attention to what works and he’s sincere--he’s very consistent in his affection. From afar it’s obvious he’s concerned because he will smile very gently at her, and whenever she turns around his face drops to his neutral/thoughtful expression; you can hear the cogs in his brain moving. It would be funny if the poor guy wasn’t so worried HAHA

Now then, here comes the real doozy. While it happens less and less the deeper they get into their relationship (their understanding of how the other works solidifies into trust), now and again Mozart pulls a stupid. He will know immediately when he’s fucked up because her expression tightens and shuts down, concealing every feeling from him. (She's hyperaware that she can sometimes be more irrational than him, so she locks down her thoughts and emotions.) 

She’ll walk away because she doesn’t want to explode and needs a moment to just calm down, reassess. He knows she needs time--and so does he to figure out a proper way to apologize--but fuck if those few days don’t make him wither in self-loathing. He hates it when he says things he doesn’t mean, things that were remnants of a bygone era because they were sentiments that deserved to die. He hates that when he gets stressed out he is prone to verbally lashing out; and he needs to learn how to work at a reasonable pace instead of doing too much and hating every second of his life. He needs to find balance, both for his own sake and because he can’t stand that look. The look that says “not you, too. Please, don’t.” You want the quickest way to gut Mozart? There you have it. Part of it was that she had given him that same look when he first yelled at/intimidated her in that first week at the mansion, and it’s still something he deeply regrets doing. He shouldn’t have frightened her when she was already scared out of her wits and threatened by Arthur.  The mere prospect of stooping to that level makes him nauseous and angry he would ever act with such indiscretion; he expects better of himself and he intends to be better than that. He may be a vampire now, but that doesn’t give him grounds to be a monster.

He doesn’t know squat about how to love someone, and maybe he doesn’t even deserve to be with her--but he’ll be damned if he hurts her without trying to amend what he’s done. When she’s calmed down she’ll return to him and try to apologize for the distance, but he won’t let her. He’ll tell her if anyone needs to apologize it’s him, and that he really does feel horrible about what he said. He’s going to promise to be more careful about his workload from now on, since that tends to be what makes him snap. But more importantly, he’s going to try to amend the behavior regardless of that. Anything that hurts her isn’t worth doing; he firmly believes that.

MC doesn’t worry too much after the few times it happens because he crushes the behavior in its tracks very, very quickly in the aftermath.

Y = Yes (how would he propose to her?)

Honestly? Mozart is the type to be a classic romantic when it comes to proposing to his beloved. While one can argue he really only takes music seriously, the same can be said for the person he has chosen to hold dear to his heart. He will spare no expense--no extravagance--in the process of wooing her. He believes that he needs to offer a proposal worthy of her and nothing less if he should seek to secure her hand in marriage. 

He pulls out all the stops. He plans it all out to the minute. Buys her the perfect dress, rouge and assorted accessories, and tells her to prepare to enjoy herself all night--no other plans. She agrees easily, though she’s a little flustered by how much he’s spoiling her. When the time comes for them to head out he enters her room with an enormous bouquet of roses, and she’s just speechless as she seeks to soak them in a vase before they go. Dressed to the nines, he escorts her to a lovely restaurant where they dine together. She’s sparkling in her attire, nothing short of dazzling; it’s not just the champagne that’s bringing a light blush to his face. He spends most of that night psyching himself up, working to seem normal, and losing himself in her beauty. Not that he doubted his course of action before this moment--it just strikes him even more deeply how precious she is to him. He would never be here, smiling and laughing and enjoying himself, if it wasn’t for her.

And more than anything, he doesn’t want to give her up to anyone else. He wants to be the one to spoil her like this, wants to be the person she goes to first when she needs something. He wants to be the only one to know her most intimate thoughts and desires. He wants to be the one to make her smile like this, to make delight shimmer in those eyes--to be on the receiving end of such excited chatter. Every part of her is so very dear to him; the mere thought of giving her up makes him feel like he’s been hollowed out.

After dinner, he takes her to a concert hall he had rented out for the occasion. He plays a moving collection of pieces that she inspired (only the best) since coming to the mansion, since she filled his life with so much color. She’s already in tears at this point, and his heart aches at the sight of her eyes glistening--as moved as he is by music, one of their greatest commonalities.

He dries her tears gently with a hanky when it’s over, rising from the bench and coaxing her up with him. When she gazes at him in question, he drops to one knee and reveals the ring that has been heavy in his coat pocket all night. He considered a more extensive appeal, but something about rehearsing a proposal felt wrong, felt too wooden. Instead, he went with the words that were resounding from deep within his heart, the feeling that had brought him to this moment.

“Meine Liebe, you are the only reason my music can continue to thrive. But more importantly,” he presses a light kiss to her hand, squeezing it gently, “You are the only reason I can thrive as surely as my music does. I spent so long lost to myself; I had forgotten why I loved what I did in the first place.” His eyes are lowered, remnants of a surpassed shame lingering in his features. “If not for you, I suspect I’d still be ripping up half-filled scores, half-mad with frustration.” 

“Wolf…” her voice is soft, but full of sympathy. It was that tender heart that saved him, that made him really able to live again.

“The prospect of life without you...I can’t imagine it anymore. I want to be the one to make you smile for the rest of your life, to ensure that these tears can only ever be happy ones. Will you make me the happiest man alive in return? Will you marry me?”

Needless to say MC goes straight back to crying after managing a breathless yes, and Mozart sags with relief before pulling her tight into his arms. He slips the ring onto her finger with no shortage of pride, as perfect on her hand as he’d imagined it would be. 

Following his proposal, Mozart is even more smitten than ever. Whenever he wakes up before she does, he’ll gently take her left hand and marvel at the sight of the ring throwing rainbows in the morning light, sighing blissfully. When MC stops by to bring him Rouge/Blanc or coffee and a snack during the day, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the sight of it. “It’s nothing, MC!!! Composing is just...going well today...” Somebody help him his uwus are spilling everywhere

Mozart be like: look at me. serotonin is stored within the MC.

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (5/?)

Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic.

A/N: So, despite my realization (with the help of a fabulous anon) that once Bucky falls off the train there’s only a day to maybe a week of time that passes before Steve takes down the Valkyrie, I’ve decided that in this fic it’s way more time, and that’s super important to the plot. Bucky went down months ago, at least 6. Please just go with it. 

Also, this is now rated EXPLICIT. if you’re not into adult content, well… believe me, you’ll know when to stop. (But if you’re already here, I’m pretty sure you don’t care about adult content ;) )

Also, I REALLY need to know if some of your headcanons were right. Please tell me!!

Chapter 5: The Experiment

~*~

“We found about a third of a file from some other poor woman. Age, height, eye color don’t match Peg.” Howard chewed on his lip as he slid the file over to them. Steve, holding Peggy’s hand under the table, took the file and pushed it between them, flipping to the first page. “It’s an offshoot of something they’ve dubbed the Winter Soldier Project.” Steve eyes popped up in interest, but Howard just shook his head. “We haven’t found much else on that except the name and it involves a single male subject. At least for now.”

“Give us the short version,” Peggy said smartly, pulling her eyes away from the documents.

Howard sighed, wringing his hands together. “Well… it’s…” He started and stopped, looking anywhere but them.

Steve couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “It’s that bad?”

Howard slumped back. “It’s not good.”

In her usual fashion, Peggy was still the most pragmatic in the room. “Then, out with it.”

“The uh, one page has a name on it: Project Anchor.” He sat tall again and pulled the file from them, looking for the right translated pages. “I don’t know how this works, so don’t ask. We’re missing massive amounts of data. And to be honest, I’m really only guessing at a lot of it.”

“Howard…” Steve prompted, forcing the man to look up at him.

He swallowed, finally looking his friends in the eyes. “It seems their Winter Soldier Project is akin to our Project Rebirth. Project Anchor was their way to… to keep their man under control.”

Peggy eyed him warily, “Keep the man under control? Then why experiment specifically on women?”

Howard rubbed his face, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and looked Peggy in the eyes. “Because the woman was what was going to keep him under control. The anchor. They were trying to pair bond their subject to a woman. Create false love, or need, and then use her as collateral.”

Steve looked over at Peggy, taking her hand and squeezing tightly. “Give him a reason to stay in line.”

Howard nodded. “Exactly.” He scratched his head then laid three pages out before them, pointing. “This page refers to some kind of injection derived from their variant of the serum. Our linguistics guy says he thinks they’ve created some of these terms, because there aren’t clear translations. Best he can translate and I can tease out it works like some kind of bacteria or virus, bonding itself to cells through the subject’s body- specifically on the nervous system- which allows it to act as an irritant.” He shifted to the next page. “This talks about a two part process, but we haven’t been able to find anything about the second part, or even if they were able to get to it.” He pointed at the third page, eyes on Peggy. “This page describes the same kinds of pain you’re talking about, Peggy, but just the pain part. I don’t think they ever introduced their subject to their male counterpart, so she only ever felt pain.”

Despite Steve holding her hand, Howard could see Peggy’s anxiety ratchet up, her breathing get shallow as her heart rate started to go up with fear. “What happened to her, Howard?”

He stroked his mustache, trying to avoid saying, but he knew they’d read it for themselves. He gathered the papers and shuffled them together, slipping them back into the folder. “She died.” He coughed, folding his hands. “Supposedly they were going to do an autopsy, but we don’t have that page.”

“Well, what do you have?” Steve asked, his tone dark and eyes starting to narrow. “You’ve got to give us something to work with here, Howard!”

“You think I’m not trying to?” Howard shot back sharply. “If Erskine were still here we’d have a hope, a hope, of really understanding what’s going on. The cellular biology was all him. I’ve got a handle on it, but there is so much that I don’t know…”

“Well, you should!” Steve pounded his fist on the table. “We need more than this!”

“Steve!” Peggy, took her other hand, laying it on his shoulder, “he’s doing his best.”

Steve groused, eyes on Howard. “Well, it’s not good enough.”

“I’ve got that,” Howard said strongly, chin set as he pointed at Steve. Steve, still incensed, didn’t budge, but Peggy turned, interested. “You’re not like this, Steve. You’ve never raised your voice at anyone as long as I’ve known you unless they were Hydra and on the wrong side of your shield.” Howard shook his head and pulled out the paper from his pocket. “I haven’t shown anyone this.”

Peggy and Steve read the two and a half sentences; Peggy gripping Steve’s hand tighter. “Breeding?”

“They had to have more than that one woman and you, Peg. There had to be so much more research somewhere that got them to this point. I’m looking, and I can’t find it, but I know it. They’ve been developing and testing this for far too long for us to not notice.” He sighed. “Whatever’s in your body reacted to the serum in Steve. Maybe it was when you touched, or it had to be a body fluid transfer when you kissed or something to that effect. I don’t know yet, but it’s in you, too, Steve.” Howard looked sadly at his friend. “It apparently wasn’t enough to make the woman be in lust or love, to tug on this poor guy’s heartstrings ‘cause she was in jeopardy, they’re altering the male counterpart, too, to feel hyper aggressive and hyper protective.”

“Like animals in heat,” Peggy mused out loud, disturbed. Her chin wavered as she pieced it together. “They give their soldier a mate that he cares about, loves even, and then threatens her with pain and even death if he’s gone too long, all the while hyping up his system so…”

“So that he’ll do anything to guarantee her safety.” Steve hung his head, unable to look at Howard. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Howard said softly. “I think that’s the understatement of the year.”

Steve hung his head, running his free hand through his hair. “So, what do we do?”

Howard only frowned at them.

~*~

The small base dorm room meant for visiting ranking officials wasn’t the worst place she’d ever been, but the fact that she knew Steve was on the other side of the wall and they weren’t going to be allowed to see one another until she was writhing in pain was absolutely weighing on her mind.

She knew it was their only course of action. It didn’t mean she had to like it. She sat on the bed, thinking she should be happy that Howard at least had a lead as to what was going on, but it left her hollow. The what was bad enough, but the why was swirling in her brain.

They’d planned to introduce her to a man she didn’t know and bond her to him forever by rage and pain.

And potentially children they planned on weaponizing.

She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Steve had managed to touch her first.

~*~

It had only been an hour, but Steve was pacing like a caged tiger in the room next to Peggy’s.

He knew, deep down, Howard was right. He knew he hadn’t been behaving rationally when it came to Peggy since he’d brought her back. He should have made her go see Howard, shouldn’t have allowed her to hide for as long as she did.

But now, he could see it.

He could think back and realize there was more at work than just the love and care that had building withing him from the moment he met her. The drive, the desire to keep her safe reverberated in the back of his skull, fighting with the rational part of him. It felt like an animal was trying to claw its way out of himself.

He had to force himself to not pounce on the nurse who knocked on his door and came in with a smile, tasked with taking his vitals and drawing blood.

~*~

Four hours in, Howard stared at her as the nurse drew her blood. “It would be more helpful if we could take samples from you every hour, just like Steve, but you won’t recover as fast.”

Peggy nodded, looking away as the nurse filled the vials. “If I have to feel like a pincushion for a bit, just make it worth it.”

He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. “Give me a rundown of your symptoms.”

“Fingertips and toes are starting to get numb, arms are achy, and my chest feels heavy.” She rubbed her arm as the nurse stepped back, watching as the woman pulled out a thermometer and blood pressure cuff.

“Zero to ten?” he asked without looking up.

“One.” She held her mouth open and let the nurse slide the thermometer in, taking around it. “Took much longer to start to come on this time. Usually, my fingers start to tingle as soon as I leave him.”

Howards eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

~*~

Six hours and counting, and he didn’t want to eat. Didn’t feel hungry. Couldn’t concentrate. All he kept thinking about was that Peggy was on the other side of the wall and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

Howard had stopped asking how he felt when he came in every hour, on the hour, mostly because he didn’t need to. Steve couldn’t stop himself from ranting at the man, a man who was his friend, for keeping them apart.

Even though he knew why they were doing it. Even though he understood exactly why it was so important they had real, tangible data about what was happening in his and Peggy’s bodies so Howard could find some way to fix or counteract it.

The only thing Steve found he was able to do was pace, keep moving, and try to burn off the anger and anxiety building up in him.

~*~

At eight hours in she was a four, little shocks of lightning through her body, everything hypersensitive, muscles starting to feel tight and painful, head swimming and aching. It was all she could do to sit up and talk to Howard when they came in to check on her. Though they didn’t draw blood every time, they still had her spit in a vile, checked her pulse and blood pressure, checked her temperature.

If Howard was finding anything, he was being tight lipped.

Peggy wasn’t sure if the anxiety of the experiment was ratcheting everything up, or of the knowledge that Steve was just on the other side of the wall made her feel more on edge.

She knew what happened to her at a 5, and at a 6, and once she hit a seven she wasn’t sure how long she could go without walking through that door.

~*~

Howard locked Steve’s door at hour nine, though he knew it wouldn’t stop him if he was determined. He locked Peggy’s door at hour eleven as her pain started creeping up exponentially faster. She could only tell him so much as her mind unfocused quickly as they talked, distracted by the agony she was feeling.  

He could only run each test so fast, but the logs were filling up with data quickly. So quickly, he wasn’t going to have time to analyze it, but rather just keep running each test until he had all of it.

He had no idea what any of it meant yet.

~*~

Howard found her sitting on the floor, most of her clothes torn off until she was in just her slip, pressed against the wall.

“Peg?” he asked softly, shooing the nurse behind him back into the hallway.

“I’m right here,” he heard Steve’s voice through the wall, “I promise. I’m so close, Peg.”

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she sobbed, the tears falling fast. “It hurts everywhere.”

“What are you at? How bad?”

“Eight,” she muttered, letting her forehead fall against the wall. “It’s an eight, but I know what’s coming.”

Howard slipped back out, sure she’d known he was there, but unwilling to eavesdrop anymore.

~*~

“You have to let her get to a ten!” Howard shouted at Steve. He hated that the man could hear her moans from his room, hated that Steve was forced to let her wallow like this, experiment or not.

“I don’t have to anything!” Steve yelled, moving forward.

Howard stepped back. Even though he was reasonably certain Steve wouldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t used to this side of the man. Howard, for his part, still didn’t back down, it was one of his more pigheaded traits. “Well, if you want me to figure out what’s wrong with her, you do have to.”

They heard Peggy moan through the wall, a pitiful, guttural sound. Howard had just come from there. Her eight was creeping up to a nine in record time.

Steve moved forward again, but this time Howard pressed himself up against the door, arms splayed out to try to keep Steve from leaving. “Just remember this, Steve: you go in there right now, we have to do this again. If you touch her before she gets to a ten, we have to do this to her again. Don’t make me do that. You know I don’t want to.”

Steve looked at him, eyes dark and angry, and paced away, growling in frustration.

“Just…” Howard took a deep breath, “Just try to hold it together for her, ok?” He opened the door, stopping halfway out. “Do it for her.”

~*~

Peggy couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to hold back, tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t breathe when she buried her head into the pillow to muffle the cries. The pain had crept up on her fast, growing in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She couldn’t help the moans, had the let something try to get out with the screams.

She couldn’t come up with ideas and theories, not when her head was pounding like her skull was too small and her whole body ached with muscle pain and her joints felt like they were full of broken glass and there were electrical shocks everywhere through her.

“Tell me this is it, Peg,” Howard pleaded, kneeling at her bedside. “Just say ten. All you gotta say is ten and I can let this be over…”

She moaned as the nurse drew a vile of blood. The nurse and Howard both jumped when they heard the first bang against the wall.

Steve.

“Peg, just say ten. Then I can let him in.” Another bang shook the painting off the wall, the glass shattering on the floor. “We’ll be out of here and you two do whatever you need to do to make this right, ok?” Another crash, this time accompanied by the sound of the plaster cracking. “Just say ten, please?”

She curled into a ball on the bed, not reacting to the way the plaster was starting to chip or how Steve’s rhythm quickened as she writhed.

“Jesus,” Howard stood, rubbing his hands over his mouth. “I’m calling it. It’s a ten. She can’t even talk.”

The nurse was about to ask him to help her take Peggy’s blood pressure when the wall across from them boomed, a large crack running down the middle.

He grabbed her arm, pulling swiftly. “Nope. Out. You don’t want to be here for this.”

~*~

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop.

There was a part of him that said the door is right there but there was another part of him, a bigger part of him, that needed to get to Peggy and he knew that she was just on the other side of that wall.

He’d listened, powerless, as she cried out for hours, as she tried to bear the pain herself when he was so close.

He’d sat on the floor, talking to her through the plaster until she couldn’t string sentences together anymore. He stayed there, feeling just a little bit closer to her, even when he’d heard Howard and the nurse lift her back into the bed.

He’d stood, faced the wall, and there was only one choice: through. So he’d punched it. And again, and again. It felt good to punch it, like there was something he was doing, something he could do, to make this better.

But punching wasn’t enough. It chipped the plaster and made a small hole, but he wasn’t going to get through the wall just by punching. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and fell against it, shoulder first.

He didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything, but smiled to himself when the plaster on his side started falling away, the wall bowed out. He pulled the chunks of plaster down, breathing heavy as he knew his mission was almost over. He was almost there. He took two steps back, and ran.

~*~

Steve crashed into Peggy’s room just as the door closed behind Howard. He skidded to a halt, plaster dust on him, broken glass and wall at his feet.

Peggy looked up from the bed, another cry falling from her lips as she curled in on herself.

He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, ripping it off as he took two steps to the bed, falling to his knees and crawling up her body. Steve wasn’t thinking, only reacting, as he ripped the slip from her skin, baring her fully to him. He dropped down, pressing his bare upper body to hers, the touch of skin-to-skin pulsing through them like warm water rushing over them. Her arms clamped around him, holding him to her as his face rooted against her neck, licking and kissing the skin. “I’m here,” he mumbled against her neck. “I’m here.”

She could only concentrate on breathing, the press of him against her washing over her, soothing and igniting her at the same time. Pain slowly ratcheted down and started to move to needing and wanting as he kissed and licked along her collar bone, his hips rutting against hers as she tried to wrap her thighs around him.

She pulled him down, his weight pressing her into the mattress giving her just the tiniest bit more relief. Her breath caught when his lips found hers, his tongue already insistent and tasing her, despite her lazy, uncoordinated attempts to kiss him back. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore, it felt heavy and weighted and like she was fighting to come back to life.

“What do you need?” he asked, dragging his lips to her ear to suck on her earlobe. “Tell me.” She didn’t know how to form words, couldn’t make her mouth do more than suck at the skin of his shoulder. She pulled him close, pushing her hands down over his back to his hips, clawing ineffectually at the waistband of his pants.

He knew what he wanted, knew what his body was screaming at him, what his body wanted him to take and how he wanted to do it, but he needed her to say it. Needed to know that despite everything that had happened to them, she wanted the same. He dragged his face back up, pulling away just inches to look at her.

Her eyes blinked open and her limbs tightened as he pulled away, the fear clear in her gaze that she thought he was trying to get away from her.

“Tell me,” he tried to whisper, tightening his embrace, but his voice was harsh and gruff.

Her chin wavered, the fear falling away as she tried to catch her breath. “You,” she finally breathed out. “All of you.”

His kiss was fierce, deep and demanding and she felt it set her heart beating harder. He pressed up on one elbow, pushing the other hand between them and fumbling with his belt and pants. She tried to help him, pushing with her feet as he pushed down with his one hand, his pants and boxers moving stiltedly down his legs at the same time.

His pants caught at his ankles, bunching around the boots he never took off. He moved to stand but Peggy held tight, moving more from muscle memory than from conscious thought as she flipped him over, body pressed tight to his.

She shook as she pressed up on her knees, hand reaching between them to wrap around his length, hot and hard in her palm. She watched him struggle to stay still under her, felt his hands flex and relax against her skin, the grip tightening only barely perceptibly. She moved slowly, eyes locked on his, as she lifted her hips and shifted him into position, bit her lip as she sank down on him and moaned.

She threw her head back when her hips met his, groaning at the tendrils of pleasure that finally, finally started moving through her, cooling spirals through every inch that neutralized the pain and sparked passion, true passion, that wasn’t dictated by a feeling or a sensation.

Peggy wanted to look, wanted to see Steve beneath her, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to open her eyes, she couldn’t even quite make herself move as she wallowed in the sensation of the pain finally, finally leaving her body.

She could feel his hands at her hips, fingers tightening and loosening with each breath. She grabbed them, dragged them up her body until he was palming her breasts, gently squeezing under her own hands. She let her hands slide down his arms, landing at his shoulders by touch alone, her breath finally coming in slow, deep breaths instead of the shallow stilted gasps she could barely manage before from the pain.

Eyes still closed, she began to rock her hips against his, small movements that made him moan under her. Tiny, little changes in direction that made the pleasure spark through her system like fireworks. His fingers found her nipples, playing and teasing as her movements became bolder, as she started to find a rhythm. She took her hands and moved them back up to his, plastering his hands to her body moaning, “more,” under her breath a she moved her hands up and down his arms.

He moved his hand as she blinked open her eyes for the first time, looking down at him, lust glazing her eyes over. He pressed his palm up over her chest, around her neck and up to cradle her cheek. She turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes again as her hips gained speed, nuzzling into his hand and nipping at his thumb before sucking it deep in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. He moaned as her lips mimicked her hips movement.

“More,” she moaned again, this time frustration tinging her words.

Steve moved swiftly, gathering her in his arms rolling, despite the handicap of having both feet effectively tied together. Peggy moaned happily buried underneath him, nuzzling into his body and rubbing every inch against him, her hips rocking against his as she wound her legs around his hips. He could feel the feral haze starting to dissipate, the need and want purely his own. He hiked her legs up higher on his hips, slipping from her body. She frowned, moving to correct it when he held her still. “Just…wait.”

He waited until she’s stilled, then kicked one leg to the side ferociously, ripping his pants down the seam and freeing him from the restriction. He smiled won at her, wagging his eyebrows. She licked her lips, smiling up at him as he slid himself back home, flexing his hips deep within her.

She writhed under him as he began to move, clawing at his back to pull him closer. “Take me, Steve,” she whispered, holding on as his hips drove deeper into her. She moaned lewdly, the rumble in her chest from the noise spurring him on to press harder and faster as she buried her head is his neck, her hot breath pouring over him.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours that they held one another, pressed tight as one body, moving and breathing and crying out together as he brought her higher and higher. As she moved one hand, finding that bundle of nerves that just couldn’t quite get touched at this angle. As he replaced her hand with his, causing her to arch off the bed with his touch. As she fell apart under him, her body tightening around him as she cried out, pushing him past his own edge of sanity until there was nothing left except them breathing heavy, a pile of spent, sweaty limbs.

He didn’t ask a number as he gathered her against him. He didn’t care about the shreds of fabric and heavy boots he still wore as he pulled the bedsheet over them.

He just wanted to sleep and to keep her safe, always.

[astertataricvs]

Sanemi Shinazugawa || Penitence Part 2

PART 2 IS UP!! LET THE TEARS FLOW

@kimetsu-no-yaiba-headcanons is excited for this!

Word count: 4.4k+ words

Part 3

When Sanemi returned home, later per usual. He unbarred the door with his spare key and step inside the apartment you both shared. Taking off his shoes, he walks towards the kitchen to take a drink, however, once he arrived in the area, his eyes spotted a dish enveloped by a plastic wrapper. He judged that you're now asleep since it's regularly been like that.

He's coming home at midnight then he'll see you inside the room sleep and sound. Sanemi didn't bother to eat the meals you cooked and just amble towards your room.

Opening the door, he was expecting to see your form laying and sleeping on the bed, but when his eyes settled on the comfortable bedding, he spotted no one. The bed was neatly organised as no one used it for the whole day. He was confused at first to where you are right now but halfway, he shrugged it off, guessing that you'll presumably be staying at your friend's residence.

Sanemi changed his outfit into his pyjamas before throwing himself on the bed. In a few seconds of gazing at the ceiling and pondering about what he's going to do for tomorrow, his thoughts were disrupted by hearing his phone ringing on the bedside table. He suspected that he'll gonna see your name on the screen, however, upon casting his eyes on the name's caller, his eyebrows instantly furrowed because the one who's calling him right now was the woman he was having an affair with.

Groaning, he accepted the call and say hello to the woman. The woman only informed him about their date for Saturday and Sanemi just hummed about it and say his goodnight. The woman flirtatiously giggled when the man says I love you to her. After the call, Sanemi threw his phone on the side of the bed where you supposed to be this instant.

He deliberated to why did you suddenly go out without notifying him? You're the one who's always informing him whenever you're going to hang out with your friends and you'll never skip to say it to him before he's going to his work.

Sanemi clicked his tongue in annoyance and just brushed away his thoughts of you. He slowly closed his eyes and think that tomorrow you'll probably be back home before he goes to his job.

The next day, Sanemi opened his eyes when the sunrays had reflected through the window and hit his face. He stirred his body to see you sleeping beside him but to his dismay, he didn't see you even if it's just a strand of your hair. It was still systematically arranged just like yesterday and the pillow was still in its spot.

He stretched his body to sit himself up and stand up to go downstairs and eat some breakfast. When he went to the kitchen, the food you prepared for him was still laying on the table, untouched. Sanemi wondered why you're still not home yet but... he once again shrugged it off. He throws the food that you cooked yesterday in the trash bin and started to cook for his breakfast before going to his work.

Sanemi did his quotidian routine for today, he went to the high school where you two have studied and teach his class about math. After his day of being a teacher, he would hang out with Yuko to any places they wanted to go.

Once Sanemi was about to go home, he entered the apartment and the whole place was pitch black. His eyebrows immediately furrowed because of the fact if you were home, you'll definitely turn on the light switch until he comes back.

In a brisk, Sanemi trudges towards your bedroom. However, just like yesterday, you weren't inside for the second time. He was confounded where you departed and you didn't apprise him about it. He went closer to the closet of yours and opened it; he saw your clothes neatly folded and remain intact. Sanemi started to wonder but he doesn't feel any sparsest concern about you. He's solely irritated to why you haven't told him about your immediate disappearance.

Your fiancé slammed it close and irritatingly went inside the bathroom to wash himself.

It's been three weeks since you haven't got home yet and Sanemi was beginning to grow worried. He's even spacing out on his work and his mind was constantly drifting to you to where you are right now. In those weeks, he's striving to get a hold of you and call you every day, he was expecting that you'd going to accept his call shortly but to his dismay, your phone was off. He's starting to get confused and could feel the uneasiness lingering inside him.

But what kindled his turbulence is that, when he stumbles upon your friend in one of the café's in the town, he instantly asked about your whereabouts, he was anticipating that she will be the one who'll get rid the restlessness he has for you. However, his distress only supplemented and feel his heart sank upon hearing that she wasn't with you in these past few weeks.

That's when Sanemi started to look for you and desperately searched for you at any possible place where you could be this instant. He even went to your job place and asked your colleagues if you were attending to your work. However, just like the answer from your friend, you haven't attended since last week and remained absent.

Suddenly, he remembered the last day he was with you and the last interaction you both had.

"Can you... Can you hug me and say to me that you love me one last time?" You inaudibly said but Sanemi heard you perfectly.

"That's all?" You nodded your head.

Sanemi placed his bag down and face you. You two stared into each other's eyes and gradually, you feel his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.

"I love you, (Name)..." he mumbles.

After half a minute, Sanemi pushed you back and started to pick his bag.

"I'm leaving," he informs to which you only nodded your head.

"Take care, love and goodbye Sanemi," you earnestly say then flash him a warm smile. Your boyfriend merely stared at you then nodded in acknowledgement.

"Bye."

It seems like a rumble of thunder had struck his whole existence when he recalled your latest conversation together. He only processed today the words that you have said to him before.

Goodbye? You're not saying It to him whenever he's going to leave the house or leave for his work. Why did he not discerned it sooner? His mind was too occupied by a random girl that he didn't even try to give you his scantiest attention. Before, he was attentive to every gesture and hint you're showing him and wouldn't pass any little details you were indicating, but... when Yuko caught his attention, he started to forget about you and omitted you because of his self-indulgence with the woman.

Sanemi began to regret neglecting you. He forgot that you are the woman he loved for eight years, he forgot that you're the one who loved him unconditionally and understood him even if he's the wrong one. You remain patient to him even if he's an asshole towards you and let him do the things he wanted. You're the woman who didn't leave his side even if he's pushing you away and giving you the cold shoulder. He forgot that you're the woman he can lean on and he has a home that was waiting for him to come back anytime that he wants to. Also, you're the woman who will continuously welcome him with open arms despite that he's treating you like shit because of his approach towards you.

More importantly, why did he even forget the most important thing in his whole life that you're the one he had chosen to become his wife and live with him until you grow old. Haven't he already asked your hand for marriage? So why did he even forget the best feeling that he had ever tasted in his entire years of existing in this world when he heard your acceptance to his proposal and become his wife and live with him for a lifetime?

Why did he forget those very pertinent things to him? Why did he let himself asphyxiate into his own pleasure of seeing another woman?! Why did he even let the wickedness controlled him and forgot you for good?

He doesn't know what he will do if anything dangerous happens to you. He won't forgive himself.

Sanemi ran and ran and ran, he doesn't know where he was going but he kept on running as if it's the last day of the Earth. He was too desperate to find you, he had no idea where his feet were taking him but the only thing that was trailing in his mind was your face; your smiling face that he wanted to see again.

Sanemi recollects the sweet nothings you have told him that he won't ever forget forever.

"Sanemi, take care!"

He seriously regrets it.

"I'm here if you need me, love."

He fucking regrets it.

"Sometimes you're such a pain in the ass, but nonetheless, I still love you, you jerk."

He really regrets it.

"You're the best thing that happened in my life."

He regrets it.

"I won't ever leave you, okay?"

He regrets it.

"I'll become your wife!"

He regrets it.

"I want to grow old with you and create our own family together."

He regrets it.

"I love you so much Sanemi. Please always remember that."

He regrets it.

"You know, even if you did something horrible to me... in the end, I'd still forgive you because... that's how much I love you, Sanemi. I will always forgive you..."

He regrets it!

"I FUCKING REGRET IT NOW! SO PLEASE COME BACK TO ME (NAME)!" Sanemi yelled in despair, he kneeled on the ground while the sky was beginning to dim. And a few moments later, the rain started to pour out from the sky.

Sanemi solely stared at the cloudy sky with lifeless eyes while droplets of rain were hitting his face. He only stared at the dull painted azure, feeling his heart pierce every second that will be passed.

He feels so hopeless, he feels so hollow, he's once again feeling the repulsive sensation that he doesn't want to retrieve and experienced anymore. After what transpired to his mother and his family; he doesn't know how he will stand up and help himself again. He became rude towards his brother and pushed him away, he doesn't know how he can reconcile with his brother and his life was mayhem...

Until you came into his life, his life that was reckoned to be suffering and filled with darkness, a dusky light had suddenly emerged in his darkest abyss. You ー who doesn't even know him and a complete stranger to you, you still dared to talk to him and stayed beside him even if he's being harsh towards you. You didn't get weary of following him every single day and still resolute to know more about him although he hurt your feelings from that day.

He thought, after bulldozing you like that, you wouldn't talk to him again or avoid him for the rest of your life. However, that was the contrast of what he had assumed, you still spoke to him and even gave him a lunch box and eat together.

That's when Sanemi was casually beginning to show you his true self and give you his trust. He confided all the things that occurred in his life, though he's a bit disinclined.

He didn't regret trusting someone like you and let you entered his world. He thought his messed up life wouldn't change until you appeared.

You give him a hand that he needs, a shoulder to lean on, a person who he can trust and divulge all the misery that he was feeling that no one can ever discern, a significant other that he wouldn't expect that he could have one. You're the one who fixed his chaotic self, the one who fixed his relationship with his little brother once again, the woman who loved him unreservedly, the woman who embraced him wholeheartedly despite that he had numerous imperfections and a dirty man. You accept him with passion and moreover, you're the first woman he ever loved to this extent. You're his light; the one who gave him hope in his tormented life.

That's the reason why he proposed to you because he won't ever love anyone other than you but...

What he has done? Why he did those shameful things to you? He's an asshole, a complete asshole! You didn't deserve to be treated like that! You deserve more! You deserve more than that! You're the one who transformed his life and fixed it again so why is he returning his big debt to you by hurting you? He promised to himself that he won't harm you and make you the happiest woman alive!

But why did he broke that significant promise? He doesn't even know where you are, he didn't even care about you when you're still there, he didn't even get the slightest chance to talk to you properly, he didn't even ask about how your day was... he didn't even ask what you're truly feeling in those months he became distant... he wasn't returning your affections... he wasn't returning your hug and kisses... he missed you...

"Where are you, (Name)... please come back..." he murmured.

"Shinazugawa?"

Sanemi's ears perked upon hearing that faint voice of a man. He slowly turned his head and see Giyuu with his tracksuit while holding an umbrella.

"Tch, what are you doing here?" He said sternly but he knows Giyuu can hear his voice croak at the end of his sentence, specifically he was about to cry thinking of you but disrupted when he suddenly interposed.

"I'm going somewhere when I suddenly saw you. What are you doing here?"

"It's none of your business," he hissed and stands up.

Giyuu merely observed the man in front of him and saw the look on his face that he hadn't seen before: grief and blame. The raven-haired boy already understood why he was dispensing that kind of countenance and what he's doing.

"I'm leaving," Sanemi spats and passed the shorter guy. Giyuu stared at him with commiseration as he knows he's trying to search for you again... it's the perfect time to tell it to him right now.

"Are you looking for (Name)?" Giyuu's question made Sanemi paused in his steps and hastily looked at him with wide eyes and lips separated.

"Where is she, Tomioka?!" He rushes towards Giyuu and grabbed his shoulders, showing an urgent expression.

"Yeah, if you want to see her, you have to follow me."

Sanemi felt his stomach churn and heart beating at a very fast pace. For some unknown reason, he can feel the anxiousness surging through his wellbeing as he beheld how Giyuu's eyes sink and evaded eye contact with him.

"Let's go."

Sanemi didn't respond, he just let himself examine the man he doesn't like but respected him as an individual. He doesn't know why he's being bothered all of a sudden but... he hopes he's just thinking things. He let himself be positive considering that he's going to see you soon and he wishes that you're doing well and would welcome him with your warm hug.

Or so he thought...

When Sanemi found out that they were inside the hospital and listening to Giyuu talking to the receptionist, his mind immediately went vague. He was convincing himself that his companion was only going to visit someone he knows, however, when he and Giyuu went to a distinct room. The ravenette stopped in his tracks and turned around to confront the white-haired lad.

"You can come in first," Giyuu informed him and Sanemi gave him a disoriented look.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Sanemi can feel the vigorous thumping of his heart. Giyuu's face was so serious and no hint of mischief. Like duh? Since when Giyuu joked around? Never in his life, he saw the man fooling around and he's always the uptight man he ever was.

Gulping his saliva, he slowly reached for the doorknob and twisted it to see who's inside the room. Hearing the creaking sound of the room, his can feel his heart was racing like it's running for a marathon, Sanemi can feel his hands shivering upon unlocking the door. When he can finally see the view inside and can vividly see the walls coated in white, smelling the scent of antiseptic of carbolic acid of the room, his onyx eyes instantly landed on your figure.

At first, Sanemi thought if his eyes were hallucinating things and he's being delusional. He even peered over his shoulder to look at Giyuu behind him to answer his miscalculation, but the man only stood in silence and avoided eye contact just like earlier.

Sanemi fell silent, he felt his mind was becoming blurry as he stared over your lifeless body with many IV's sticking in your arms and an oxygen mask placed on your mouth. The silence around the room was making it more cumbersome and augmenting the substantial pressure. The beeping sound of the cardiac monitor was the only sound that they can listen to.

Perceiving you in that kind of state; lifeless and he can't see the illuminating smile on your face every time you see him. Sanemi's legs began to quiver as his heart was gradually cracking in every angle of his brittle organ, and later on, it smashed into millions of pieces once he grasp that you're the one lying on the bed; incapacitated and he's not seeing things, you're the patient that Giyuu wanted to visit.

He feels like he's sinking into the cold and cryptic depths as if he can't breathe and couldn't see anything but the eclipse that was engulfing his wellbeing. Thousands of arrows were consecutively stabbing him from his back and needles were penetrating his frangible soul. He merely inhaled a sharp breath to prevent the tears to escape from eyes.

Not now, not now...

Sanemi craned his neck to look at Giyuu whose having a despondent expression coated on his visage, not looking at him.

Sluggishly walking towards the ravenette, he quickly grabbed Giyuu's collar while biting the inside of his cheeks. He stared at him with big shot eyes for a moment and forcefully pulled his face closer to his.

"What's the meaning of this, Tomioka?! Why is (Name) in this hospital?! Why is she here?! Why is she unconscious?! What happened to her?! Why you didn't tell me this beforehand?!"

Sanemi was enraged, his breathing becomes rough. His hold onto Giyuu's collar was very tight that it'll crumple immediately. His eyes were ablaze, staring into Giyuu's ocean blue eyes with burning eyes as he bestows him his utmost indignant expression.

Sanemi's mind was brimming with fury, his intellectual reasoning was clouded with his surging emotions and he doesn't give a fuck if everyone might hear his roar if it means to answer his goddamn question.

His blood was boiling with violence as his grip on Giyuu's collar squeezed more.

"ANSWER ME, GODDAMMIT!" Sanemi rammed Giyuu into the wall, causing a loud bang to reverberated around the room. Sanemi needs answers, he needs answers why are you lying on that bed with tons of IV's sticking on your arms.

What happened to you? He's fucking worried for your wellbeing for these past few weeks and now that he finally founds you, he's only going to see you in this worst-case scenario that he doesn't want to occur! That's why you're not responding to his calls and not coming home for weeks because you got hospitalized for three goddamn straight weeks! And what made him furious is that he wasn't there to help you and be by your side when you needed him the most! He didn't stay with you and look out for you in this nauseating smell of the hospital and the deafening silence of the room with the sickening beeping sound of the cardiac monitor.

He doesn't have any knowledge of what happened to you! He doesn't have any little information about your whereabouts and how have you been.

He feels so pathetic, he feels so miserable, he feels so desolated. He just wanted to break down this instant and doesn't care if Giyuu would behold how he will crumble down. He doesn't care anymore, he just wanted you to be back.

"Aren't you busy with your other woman?"

Sanemi's gripped extricates when the information that came out from Giyuu's buzzed in his ears. He gazed over him with big wide eyes and at the same time petrified.

"Although I wanted to tell you about her, (Name) stopped me from doing so, she told me to keep it a secret and tell you when you're already looking for her," Giyuu simply says. He grabbed the chance to break free from Sanemi's grasp when the snow haired boy loosens his clutch on him.

He simply eyed Sanemi who has a stunned expression plastered on his face. He only gawked into space while assimilating the words that Giyuu had spouted.

He was utterly speechless and couldn't contemplate a word to utter. So all these months that he had been avoiding you, being distant to you, being cold to you... you already knew that he was cheating on you? He feels like the heavens had crashed onto his whole existence knowing the fact that you already found him out...

That's the worst... the worst... if you knew, why you didn't speak to him about it and say to his face that he's cheating on you? Why did you remain quiet all this time despite that he knows that you've been enduring the excruciating pain that he had caused? Why are you still being sweet to him all this time and looked at him with kindness just like before? It isn't fair... he's so unfair... he broke you... he fucking broke you...

"Why are you still staying with me?"

"Why..." he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white while looking down on the marble floor. He remembered, he remembered the question the made him reticent that day, he won't forget how you glanced at him with innocence as you asked him that question.

"(Name) was smashed by a rushing car when she saved a little girl who's trying to pick her ball on the street," Giyuu explained and Sanemi stared at him with an incredulous look.

"That's it? That's why she's hospitalized?!"

Giyuu shakes his head, "(Name) is in a coma, also..." the deep blue-eyed man was indecisive to say your real condition. However, he needs to tell it to him since Sanemi has the claims to know and you're his fiancé.

"She has acute myeloid leukemia, cancer of the blood and bone marrow. The doctor told her before that there are too many nonfunctioning immature white blood cells that are found in her blood and bone marrow... That's why I hate to say this but... she's in a critical condition right now."

Sanemi's body went rigid, he stared at him with shock as he comprehends the words he had stated. He whipped his head to look at your vulnerable and lifeless body before begrudgingly went towards to you.

The beeping sound of the cardiac monitor was making him enrage, the smell of the antiseptics was giving him a nauseous feeling to the point he was in the urge of vomiting. He gawked over your body; he studied your supposed bright face that was now contorted with dull and tenebrific features. He preferred seeing your bright and vivacious self rather than this lifeless just like in the war where countless people are drenched with their own blood and unconscious.

"(Name)..." his voice croaked, he reluctantly grabbed your cold hands with an IV sticking on it and gently rubbed your knuckles with his thumbs. "I'm sorry, (Name)... I don't know what will I do if I lose you... please just come back..."

Sanemi couldn't restrain the pain that was bottling inside him anymore, he let his frustrations out with the tears that were now cascading on his scarred face. He solely holds your hand tightly as he silently sobbed for Giyuu not to hear him crying.

It was enough... it was enough to break him and let his whole world crashed down... the twilight that he thought had vanished a long time ago because of you, it was now gradually coming back to him as if he was welcoming him with wide-open arms.

"The reason why she didn't tell you that she knows you're cheating on her was because of her state right now. She has leukemia, (Name) was about to tell it to you but she remained quiet because you're too busy entertaining another woman," Giyuu's voice was laced with cynicism. He surely does want to punch Sanemi right now for neglecting you. Partially, he sympathizes your soon to be husband because of how he shows vulnerability at this moment. He knew Sanemi wouldn't let anyone witness how he'll break down, but he couldn't keep up the strong façade anymore, specifically that the woman of his life was now slowly disappearing and letting him go.

"She said to me; she doesn't want to tell you because she wanted to stay the way it was between you both... she wants to relish the last moments with you until her last breath..."

Sanemi's tears flowed down like a waterfall, his sobs were becoming more blatant, enough for Giyuu to hear. His heart was breaking into two and he feels his body went paralysed and can't feel anything right now. He doesn't know what to think at this moment, he's too suffocated by his agony that he couldn't say a single word to Giyuu. He only let his hands hold yours so tightly that he doesn't want to let it go forever.

"She wanted to let you know... she deeply loves you, Shinazugawa. She wants the best for you and wants you to be happy."

Sanemi closed his eyes and feel the torturous pain.

How can he seek happiness when you're the reason why he's felicitous all this time?

"I don't think I'll be able to become happy anymore, Tomioka..."

-------

Part 3

[wolgrahas]

tagged by: @falkreathh thank you!!  sorry for doing this so much later u_u’ tagging: whoever wants to!! (◡‿◡✿) 1. favourite game in the series ok... i don’t know if you already figured it out but my total fave is dao. why? maybe is the nostalgic feelings this game gives me or... i played it so many mcfucking times that i just get this hollow feeling inside my chest when i haven’t played it for weeks... idk. the trespasser dlc was spectacular too and gave my lavellan a lot of personality (what i thought the dai base game lacked, bc it made me feel like my inquisitor was an empty shell with no personality, solas’ romance save the dai base game to me tbqh). but... you can create such complex personalities in dao for your warden, and the relationships are so so realistic. i think (dao) is neat lmao. 

2. how did you discover dragon age? before being a dragon age fan i was a dark souls fan; i breath dark souls, i read dark souls, i ate dark souls, i was quite obsessed with dark souls, and before dark souls i was an obsessed skyrim fan (oNLY SKYRIM, not the previous games ashdgjasdgh) and with skyrim that was the first time i made video game oc's, like... they had such complex personalities and i cannot make complex character now... aNYWAY i'm getting carried away: i knew dragon age bc dai was being lunched and ALL the people i followed reblogged stuff about dai, and then i bought dao and loved it!! 

3. how many times have you played the games? hfgsdjfhsjfshd fffUCKKKK SHITT... alright... many mANY TIMES, but how many times i haven't finished my game?? countless times!! i think i finished fINISHED dao maybe... pls don't laugh at me... 10+ times. yes they are so so so many times, shame on me! shame on my cow! blah blah, but i lOVE dao. da2 maybe.... 3-4 times? and dai 6 times?? it's funny bc i played dao and da2 in many different ways but dai... m8, always the same, fuck you solas sdhfjdshjsdf 4. favourite race to play? qUNARIIIII!!! i lOVE tieflings so.. i obviously love the qunari too, but in the dai the first race i chose was qunari but then i talked to solas and i was like... bITCHHHHH i'm gonna create an elf to romance this egg, and then... my canon inky became an elf lol. and last favourite race are humans... ok don't hate me, it's not bc they are """boring""" or shit like that, it's bc they are the upper-class of thedas and i LOVE the "from zero to hero" trope... so... yeah agfshsdfhj 5. favourite class? mages!! bc i love the lore behind this class, it's fantastic, precisely blood magic. but if i didn't care about this, i would choose archer, tho in the first games it sucked but in dai is pretty cool :^) 6. do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? as i've said before i have made many different decisions in dao and da2 but in dai are always the same lol 7. go-to adventuring group? origins: alistair/sten, morrigan, zev/leliana da2: aveline, anders, isabela/varric dai: solas, cassandra, cole/sera 8. which of your characters did you put the most thought into? i think prim/anika??(they're the same but one is a human and the other an elf lmaoo), she was my first da oc, and obviously the one i put most thought into bc i uSED to have a lot of creativity some years ago, what a pity my brain is useless now lmao 9. favourite romance? pfffff... solas, alistair, leli and cass!! i think?? idk i gotta play again dai bc i'm not sure :/ 10. have you read any of the comics/books? i've read aLL the books but not the comics :/, i want to read the comics but idk where i could read them online and free (sorry i'm poor lol), so... mi gozo en un pozo lmao 11. if you read them, which was your favourite book? my fav book was "the masked empire"!! patrick weekes is a good writer and i loved the orlesian politics, and i adored seeing these characters in dai! (tho briala was whitewashed lmao) 12. favourite DLCs? obviously: awakening and trespasser. these two dlc's were mcfUCKING AMAZING. i mean, with dao i expected the same quality of the base game, but trespasser was such an excelent and good experience, it gave a lot of insight to our inquisitors and also: sOOULASSSSS, so yep! i mainly lOVED trespasser and i hope weekes guides the team to make a game at least as good as this dlc! (tho, if ea is a greedy bintch this time [as always lol] it doesn't matter how many times the bioware time tries, ea will force them to do a shitty game :/) 13. things that annoy you how viv, anders and sera are written, i mean, i loved anders the first time i played da2 but his personality is obviously written to annoy the fuck outta you, tho i loved how he expressed his ideals freely (tho sometimes he even seemed too traidtional to me about topics like blood magic :/), but sera and viv were a lil harder to befriend and like, and i still don't like much viv, but i love her as a character, y'kno 14. orlais or ferelden? tbh, if i gotta live in one of those two places i would choose ferelden by fAR. but, now, if we're talking about which is more interesting; orlais. 15. templars or mages? like @/blckwall said: all templars are bastards :). i would love if thedas had independent magic schools, that there were no higher representatives or charges, that every village or city had its own magic school, and the crown would be the responsable of manage its needs. i haven't thought much about this so my thoughts are quite vague :/ 16. if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? they're from different universes, tho i'd love the idea of all of them being in the same universe, but some worlds states are incompatible with others. 17. what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc) in dao: barkspawn (i'm extremelly predictable, sorry u_u') 18. have you installed any mods? all my dragon age games are modded as fUCK. i mean, i think dao is the most heavy modded game i have?? (mainly bc i cannot install many mods in skyrim lol) but when i have my gaming computer again i will mod the shit out of dai >:) 19. did your warden want to become a grey warden? prim had been working in the circle her entire live to be in the higher ranks, and then she saw how all her work was lost made her really conflicted: she didn't wanted to leave bc she yearned to be more powerful and make the circle a better place for mages (yep, she's deeply anti-circle bc of her traumatic past), and she was going to die if she refused duncan's offer. even so, she was never sorry for supporting jowan. and, she became the king of ferelden's mistress; she loved him obv, but she could also take some advantage of his power to make the mages and marginalize people's situation better, and gain fortune by that; alistair was well aware about her plans by prim's words herself, but he never objected. altho the main cause prim made alistair king is bc she wanted him to have a good life and not waste it as a grey warden, so... anyway, i got acrried away... this is long af ghdjsdgf 20. hawke’s personality? red mostly, tho he used to be purple/red in the first and begining of the second act :/ 21. did you make matching armor for your companions in inquisition? yes i did!! i lOVED to be fashionable in dragon age instyle!! 22. if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? prim : she would have tried to convince jowan and wait some months until she could convince him. also: sometimes she wishes she didn't make alistair king, mostly bc of her daughter (her daughter is the only heir to the throne of ferelden, and basically she doesn't even know that prim is her real mother, mostly bc anora adopted her bc alistair and she couldn't have children), sometimes, in her alone saddest times, thinks how things would have been if alistair was still a grey warden, they would have a happy family and wouldn't even had to hide inofensive stuff like a cheek kiss. but anyway, her duties as a grey warden are more important and doesn't have time to think about it. garrett hawke: he regrets not defending carver, he would have prefered to sacrifice himself instead of any of his siblings. he also regrets going to the deep roads with bethany, letting the grey wardens make her one of them (obv he doesn't know that if he didn't she would have joined the circle lmao). and obv her mother's death... if he had been there, with her mother, he could have done something... :'/ maia: she regrets not being strong enough when that shem tried to hurt her when she was a litte girl, that made her mother kill him to save her bc she was too defenseless, she should have been stronger, that caused her mother and she part ways, because now maia's mother was a criminal and she had more proabilities of getting caught, so maia should go on her way and find the next village, but she found the lavellan clan. she deeply regrets not going after her mother. she also think she was too stupid to not found out the true identity of solas and try to convince him that this world has meaning :'/ 23. do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon? mmmm... no? :/, i like my decisions to have consequences?? 24. are any of your characters based on someone? sahgdashsd pls don't make fun of me but in the first stage of prim's/anika's 'personality creation' was inspired by mother gothel, then she was inspired by...... mikasa ackerman dsfgdjsdf, i'm still inspired by that character tHO i know that shingeki no kyojin is nazi propaganda and i no longer watch that anime lmao. maia is inspired by... a mix of me and rapunzel (from tangled)?? she's basically a shy rapunzel :') 25. who did you leave in the fade? some of you will hate me bc i had to choose between hawke and stroud but i still chose hawke dsfgsdf. m8, hawke is just a 'figure' who isn't widely recognized in thedas, while the grey warden are 394789x more useful, idk i always put myself in the shoes of my characters even if their decisions hurt me (tho, tbqh, i'm not tHAT attached to hawke so this choice was easy lol) 26. favourite mount? royal sixteen!! she's so pretty!! ♡♡♡ thanks for tagging me!! ♡♡

[spideyxchelle]

SO I HAVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS BABY FIC/HEADCANON THING ON-AND-OFF ALL WEEKEND. THERE YOU GO, FAM. IT EXISTS. it is not beta’d. i’m over it. it belongs to YOU now. 

Peter Parker didn’t really understand baby etiquette. As an only child, and an only child raised by his aunt and uncle, he had limited interactions with children. The few that he saw at sporadic intervals growing up were adorable and when Pepper and Tony had their daughter, Skye Stark, he was equally as impressed by how cute she was (on a scale of freakin’ adorable babies to holy shit this kid is the cutest like munchkin ever scale). But he didn’t spend an awful lot of time with babies. Tony didn’t like Skye around the compound upstate for obvious danger reasons when she was a baby and it wasn’t until she was around eleven that he started spending more than just a passing moment with her. Yet, when asked, Peter would say that he liked kids. He just didn’t know much about them, really.

Which was what Michelle told him three years into their marriage when he kissed her awake one morning with little kisses and told her point blank, “I want a baby.”

She rolled her eyes in that irritated but terribly fond way that only MJ could pull off and pushed his kissy face away, “You don’t know the first thing about kids, Parker.”

“I do,” he nodded, yanking her impossibly close so their bodies were a perfect curve, “I’m great with Skye.”

MJ turned around in his arms and nuzzled the dumb, little beard he had been sporting the last year and a half, “Skye is fourteen. That’s not a baby.”

His face lit up at her affectionate cuddle. He liked this early morning version of his wife. This MJ was pre-coffee and so, so soft; she was the version of his wife that didn’t shrink away from his touch because she was a “PDA-bastard” but instead relished it. “I knew Skye as a baby,” he countered.

She pecked his mouth, perfunctory, “Barely. I had two younger siblings, Peter. You didn’t have any, okay? You don’t know. Babies are hard. Kids are even harder. Teenagers barely count. They have bare minimum manners and can use the bathroom by themselves.”

He chased her mouth with his, giving her his fill of early morning kisses, “I want to have kids with you.” He dropped an easy kiss on her neck, “I want to be the father of your children.”

Her body went pliant under his touch and he could feel him swaying her; although, MJ had a mind of her own and he liked to think that he didn’t really need to convince her and that she wanted this as much as him.

After a punishingly slow round of morning sex, MJ mumbled, sweaty and breathless, against Peter’s chest, “I’ll stop taking my birth control. No more condoms on your end. I’m not saying we’re trying. Let’s just see what happens.”

And that was what they did.

When MJ got her first period after a month of not-trying-but-actually-trying Peter tries not to be disappointed. He had started to imagine a world of baby giggles, little clothes and a happy, beautiful family. Their family. But MJ told him not to be discouraged.

“It takes time,” she said, kissing the top of his head and striding out the front door to work.

The second month she got her period the disappointment was manageable. He had lowered his expectations and MJ seemed confident it would happen when they were ready.

But then the third month passed and the fourth and the fifth and suddenly they were creeping up on the one year anniversary of their decision to start trying. Peter tried not to let it bog him down. MJ’s words from that first month played at the back of his mind each and every month.

His wife, though, seemed different. She was still smart and beautiful and witty and ran-shit at Stark Industries but the light behind her eyes came and went. It was more of a flicker and less of an intense heat.

Peter crawled into their bed a few days out from the one year anniversary and tugged her close, “You okay, better?” He watched for a laugh but she didn’t indulge him. When they first got married MJ joked that she was the better and he was the worse in their marriage vows. And, honestly, he agreed. MJ was, without argument, the best thing had ever happened to him, radioactive spider and all, and her withdrawing was painful.

“Baby,” he tried again, “I can’t read minds. You gotta talk to me.”

She muffled her voice in her pillow. Peter had to strain to hear her, “What if I can’t get pregnant?”

His brain fell silent. No, not silent. Hollow. Because he had spent months dreaming up their family, wishing for it so badly that he felt he could have almost willed it into reality.

And then, he looked at his wife and his insides warmed. She was so much more than just their potential family, their maybe baby. She was his wife and he didn’t love her for what she could give him but for who and what she was. He chuckled and kissed her hair, “Then we adopt. Or we do a surrogate. And hey, look at me.” MJ slowly acquiesced, turning in his arms. Peter schooled his features into something gravely serious, “You don’t know that you’re why we aren’t getting pregnant. I got bit by a radioactive spider. It could be me. I don’t want you to ever feel bad about that. Having babies isn’t what makes you good or special. You being you is.”

She rolled her watering eyes and cupped his stubbled cheeks, “I love you, worse.”

“I love you, better.”

Two months later the Sons of Thanos touched down in New York and brought on a war like none had seen since the Infinity Stone Wars back from when Peter was a teenager. Tony called and Peter answered without a second thought.

It was only when he caught MJ leaning against their bedroom doorway as he shoved his suit and some spare clothes into a flimsy bag that he paused. She didn’t smile, she just watched him with that determined look she always got whenever he went away on a scary mission.

He zipped up his bag, “I have to go.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“New York needs me,” he said, shouldering his bag.

“I know,” she said again.

He stepped toward her, resting his hands intimately on her face, “I don’t have a choice.”

“I know.” He kissed her quick and sidestepped her, heading toward their front door. “Hey Parker?” she said barely above a whisper.

Peter turned around.

“You better come home. I’m not raising this baby by myself.”

And his whole world tilted on his axis. He knew his eyes must have looked absolutely delirious, like he was walking through a fog. He took five long strides across their living room and pinned her against her bedroom door, kissing her with everything he had.

The kids went on for five seconds or five minutes, with MJ he could never tell the difference, and with great reluctance he pulled away, “I’m coming home. To you and our baby.”

“I know,” she said, but her eyes looked like she wasn’t so sure.

So he said again, “I am coming home.”

“You gotta go, Tiger,” she grinned, hiding her tears from him by turning her face, “The world needs saving or something.”

Or something took fourth months. Or something killed three Avengers including Barnes and Black Widow. Or something kept Peter away from his wife for too long. And when or something was over, MJ met Peter upstate. 

He woke with a gentle kiss to his brow, her soft kisses coaxing him awake in the hospital bed he was being kept in at Tony’s insistence (a broken arm was not much but a broken arm due to magic was a little harder to swallow). His eyes fluttered open and his wife, his five months pregnant wife, was staring down at him with a tired smile. “Hey there,” she whispered.

Peter shifted and sat up in his bed with all the effort that it took to balance one arm. “What’re you doing here?” His voice sounded as tired as his bones felt.

“I’m your emergency contact,” she teased, and then added more seriously, “Tony called me. Said you were all home. That you magically banged up your arm. Idiot.” She said like it was an afterthought. 

Peter’s hand drifted down to MJ’s swollen stomach, “I missed so much.” His voice was overwhelmed with emotion and his thoughts raced. He had missed the entire first trimester, maybe all of the second. He had missed staying awake with her when she was ill and buying her favorite foods. He had missed ultrasounds and first kicks and learning the gender of their baby. 

MJ’s face broke and she kissed his face, tender and sad, “Yeah, you did.”

“Is everything....I mean, are you and the baby.....okay?”

She brushed his unruly hair back off his forehead, “We’re fine. May helped.” She paused and curled herself into his arms, getting close and comfortable. “You smell terrible.” 

He choked out laughter, “Sorry. Showers have been few and far between on the battlefield.” 

“You’re not coming home until you shower.” 

And so, Peter showered and his wife took him home. 

The drive back down to Queens was absolutely devastating. The second Thanosian War ravaged every burrow of New York but Queens was Peter’s home. Familiar homes and streets looked more like heaps of rubble than neighborhoods. Everywhere he looked crudely crafted tents were hung up at check points to provide relief efforts to the homes of everyone displaced by the war. 

Peter prepared himself for the worst when they turned down their street. He expected very little to be left of the one level home that they fell in love with right after the got married but to his surprise it was all in tact: the roof, the fence and the small backyard when MJ’s cats liked to lounge like dogs. 

He turned in shock to his wife whose mouth met his cheek with a gentle kiss. “Tony set us up,” she explained. “He made sure we were safe before you went off to save the world or whatever.”

Peter said a silent prayer to Tony and promised himself he would thank the man who protected his family while he could not, and then smiled watery, “Or whatever.” 

The joy that their home and MJ and the baby were safe didn’t last. Couldn’t.

The first war Peter was a teenager. The things that scared him were more about his own survival. He would have nightmares about being crushed under debris and brick and, sometimes, Thanos’ boot. Those dreams were awful and crippling but the fear for his own safety was not nearly as devastating as the dreams he had about his family. 

After the second war, Peter’s nightmares were more like night terrors. He’d wake up, sweaty and screaming, gripping at his chest like someone was tearing his heart out. Images of MJ and the baby in danger or dead burned in his head. And no amount of gentle coaxing and soft kisses to his bare back could bring him from the night terrors before he was ready. Sometimes it took only a few minutes, other times the images would hang on him for hours after sleep. 

His doctors said it was PTSD. His wife said it was normal. His head just wanted it to stop.

But not all days after the war were bad. There were more than just glimmers of light in his life. Simple things brought him an insane amount of joy. His wife’s laughter, for one. MJ always laughed like it surprised her, it was a hoarse and sparkling sound. He also missed how she smelled and how she would sit on his lap while they watched a movie and bitch about historical inaccuracies or problematic issues.  Everything about MJ made him happy. Even when she was pissed off at him. He liked that version of her, too.

The baby gave him even more joy. Painting the baby’s room and buying furniture and feeling the kick of their little feet was like a surge of pure happiness. The first time the baby kicked once Peter was home, MJ reached for Peter’s hand and put it over her stomach. He felt the flutter and his eyebrows shot up so high his hair almost covered them. His smile was uncontrollable. MJ only shrugged, like of course she was the kind of person that could hold the miracle of life. Duh. 

Two weeks before the due date, MJ was balancing a pint of ice cream on her stomach as Peter watched from his perch on the island in the kitchen. She waddled over to him offering her belly and a spoon so he could steal some ice cream. 

With a crooked grin, he grabbed some of her ice cream and winked. She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be cu-” 

MJ’s back spasm was sudden. Her back bowed over and the pint of ice cream slid off of her stomach and clattered to the ground. She was breathless. 

Peter hopped off the counter and touched her stomach gently, “Better, what’s the matter?” She didn’t answer so he said more firmly, “MJ, baby, you gotta answer me. Please.”

Her eyes tilted up to look at him all alarm, “My water just broke.”

“Oh shit.” Peter started working on autopilot. They had discussed this before, they knew the motions, and he was executing it perfectly. It wasn’t until they were at the hospital, MJ sitting up on the bed as the doctors measured how dilated she was that Peter’s brain decided to come off airplane mode. 

MJ took a glance over at him and grit her teeth through another contraction, “Look who decided to show up.” 

“Sorry,” he gulped, “I was overwhelmed.” 

“No shit,” she yelped as the contraction worked through the worst of it. He scurried over and took her hand. Once it passed, she breathed out, “Call my family. Get May and Tony, too. They’ll wanna be here.” 

With a kiss to her head, Peter started to make the proper phone calls. The Jones’ were loud and excited and barely listened to what Peter had to say beyond MJ going into labor. May was similar, all squeals and bouncing energy. Tony only laughed. Peter startled, “Why are you laughing?”

The voice through the phone chuckled, “You sound like you’re shitting yourself, Peter. It’s going to be okay.”

“Right,” Peter nodded. “Duh, of course. Yep.” 

Tony only laughed harder, “Peter, Skye and I will be there soon. Try not to have a breakdown before then.” 

And he didn’t think he was having a breakdown until the doctors told him and MJ that she was ready to start pushing. Only then was he certain he was having some kind of episode, which only lasted for all of thirty seconds before MJ was gripping his hand hard. “You rat bastard,” she hissed through her teeth, “I’m never letting you touch me aga-AH.”

Her voice trailed off into a guttural scream. Peter shook his head free of all of his fuzzy thoughts and zero’d in on his amazing wife. The one that was cursing his existence and his penis. Peter cracked a smile and kissed her hand, “I love you. And you’re absolutely right. My penis is terrible.”

“The worst,” she breathlessly laughed. She gave another push and a yell, “God damn it, Peter. Next time you get to be the pregnant one.” 

“Deal,” he whispered, kissing the shell of her ear. 

It took MJ 45 minutes to give birth to their son. And he came into the world screaming, red faced and blotchy and perfect. Someone pushed scissors into his hands and he shakily cut the umbilical chord. 

The nurses started to attend to his son and Peter found his eyes following the small bundle over to the small table they took. He only looked away when MJ weakly squeezed his fingers. He leaned down and kissed her head when MJ asked, “How is he?”

“Perfect,” Peter said without hesitation, “He’s perfect.” 

“He better be,” she mumbled all exhaustion, “I didn’t suffer sixteen hours of labor for anything less.”

Once they cleaned up little Ben, the doctors folded his squishy face up in MJ’s arms and Peter sat in a chair next to the bed and watched. He saw every emotion flit across his wife’s face. And then, she kissed their son’s face and whispered gently against his soft skin, “You look like me. Thank god.” 

Peter barked out a teary laugh. MJ’s eyes were just as misty but her grin was all mischief. 

When everyone arrived later to bombard little Ben and MJ (Peter knew he was the least interesting party), it was all chaos. May cried and cuddled his small face already in love. Mr. and Mrs. Jones cooed over their grandson and Mr. Jones awkwardly congratulated Peter. Their relationship was a little tense since, well, he was sleeping with his only daughter. MJ’s brothers were louder and teased the pair of them about the end of their “fun days”. MJ flipped them both off. 

Mr. Stark was quiet. He held Ben like he used to hold Skye, afraid but all wonder. Peter sat next to his mentor and wrung his hands, “Well?”

Tony smiled, “He’s cute.” After a few minutes of silence, Tony said the one sentence Peter was hoping to avoid, “Do you know if any of the powers passed down to him?”

He had been thinking about the possibility since he returned from the war and it was terrifying. He didn’t want his son following in his footsteps. Looking down at his little face, Peter sent his wish away to whoever was listening that Ben would take after MJ and not him. “Don’t know yet,” Peter finally answered, “We’ll see, I guess.” 

When they left the hospital a few days later, Peter was ecstatic to have family time at home. 

But, as previously pointed out, Peter Parker did not have much experience with babies prior to the birth of Ben. And so, he floundered. 

While MJ took to motherhood with the easy practice of an older sibling, Peter struggled. He couldn’t swaddle Ben correctly and whenever he tried to put him down for the night or quiet him Ben only cried. 

Three weeks after the hospital, tired eyes and a discouraged temperament, MJ crawled into their bed after getting Ben down. She rolled over and wrapped an equally exhausted arm around him. “Talk to me,” she whispered. 

“I suck,” he said point blank.

She rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up to look at him, “Hey, no you don’t. You’re learning. It’s different.” 

“He should love me, better.” 

MJ kissed his pouty lips and Peter felt his mood slightly improve, “He does love you, worse. But he’s a baby and babies are hard. I did tell you.”

Peter drew MJ closer and tugged the blankets up over them, “Please don’t lecture me.”

“I’m not,” she kissed his chest thoughtlessly, “I’m trying to get you to be easier on yourself. He loves you. I love you. You just don’t have the boob or the food. So of course it’s harder for you to calm him down.” 

Peter laughed, his voice dripping with the exhaustion of three-week parenting, “I love him so much I feel like I don’t know where to put all this love.”

MJ nodded, “I know. I thought I loved you. But we had this baby and I’m gonna be honest Peter....I’d push you in front of a bus for Ben.” 

Peter rolled over on top of his wife and kissed her face, “You wound me.” 

“You love me,” she grinned. After a beat, she asked, “You feeling better?”

He shrugged, brushing his nose absently against hers, “Yes and no.” 

“I’ll get easier,” she said, all certainty. 

It did. Not at first. It got harder before it got easier. And then, one day, around three months old, Ben fell asleep on Peter’s chest during an afternoon of cartoon watching. Peter was watching the cartoons. His son’s curly hair tickled at his chin and the soft rise and fall of his chest worked in tandem with Peter’s own breathing. 

And day by day it got easier. 

At four months old, Ben let Peter feed him his bottle. At five months old, Ben would play peek-a-boo with his Dad, shrill giggles tumbling out of his little mouth. MJ liked to videotape these afternoons and send them to the Avengers’ group chat. Peter hardly minded. Ben was the best. At six months old, Ben crawled for the first time. Right to Peter. He cried. MJ laughed at him. And he was certain his family was the best. At eight months old, Ben said his first word “Mama”. And this time MJ cried. When Peter tried to tape it she punched him in the shoulder and Peter only smiled. 

Milestones happened rapidly after that. Standing, drinking from his own cup, his first steps, walking. Ben was growing from that small squish of a baby to a walking, talking toddler. 

A year and a half after his birth, Peter crawled into bed after a mission and found Ben clinging to MJ’s chest. He didn’t have the heart to move his little family. So he tucked himself under the blankets and pressed Ben between his and MJ’s chests. 

The movement made Ben’s bleary eyes open sweetly, “Dada?”

Peter kissed his head and whispered, “Yep, buddy, it’s me. Now we gotta be quiet. Mommy is sleeping, okay?”

Ben’s eyes got heavy and he curled into Peter’s chest and promptly fell back asleep. Peter grinned and kissed his dark curls. MJ shifted closer in her sleep and wound their legs together. 

His whole family. In the span of his arms. Perfect and his. 

[greatwrath]

What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to them?

CHARACTER QUESTIONS

Oh, easy, this one. Definitely the time Azrael teleported into the palace of Alexandria looking for Uriel, but ended up finding Cleopatra's half-sister Arsinoë IV super naked in the bath instead. Az ran screaming to the hills after that.

[greatwrath]

13. When was the first time they fell in love? and 29. What are their biggest pet peeves? (if you're up for both!)

CHARACTER QUESTIONS

13.) Azrael has never been in love, nor has anyone loved her.

14.) Since Azrael is a grumpy old woman, she has so many pet peeves. Californian accents, modern music—especially the stuff with the heavy bass—also, plastic, microwaves, litterers, perky people, overly affectionate people, loud people, cell phones, and cars.

[greatwrath]

I made the sigil that Azrael has between her two main eyes in her original physical form (the one pre-humanoid that is larger than Godzilla). Sometimes it appears on her forehead in her human vessel too. 

[greatwrath]

How do they put out a candle?

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

She always puts it out with her power. Lights 'em with her power, puts ‘em out with her power. It’s frivolous, but it’s a little thing, not a huge drain on power like throwing a bus with telekinesis is.

[greatwrath]

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

As a serving angel, before her imprisonment, Azrael had no hobbies. Her life was entirely dedicated to serving her Father. She strongly believed that angels should have no distractions from their purpose. She applied that to the other Archangels, the angels under her command, and most staunchly to herself. 

Since Azrael is no longer serving and is mega exiled for eternity, she has A LOT of time to do things. For example, she shreds on the violin, plays Beethoven on the piano, translates Akkadian cuneiform tablets into every modern language, restores antiques and repairs historical artifacts, reads every book she can find, practices ballet, and frantically does math equations on the cave walls and floors in chalk. I suppose you could also called menacing the Holy See a hobby too. She enjoys standing at the end of the Pope’s bed, or crouching on the cupboards of Cardinals at night, especially during storms, so when the lightning flashes, they see her. 

[greatwrath]

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

One phrase that comes to mind is “Yea verily”, which she picked up from English speakers around the sixteenth and seventeenth century. She uses a lot of archaic words in every modern language and sometimes switches into an older version of the language she’s speaking, like she sometimes uses words from Old High German instead of modern German. 

To be honest, Azrael probably won’t evolve from them into the true modern lexicon, because she is still an Archangel of the Dark Ages, almost certainly the most antiquated of her siblings in just about every way that matters. That’s why a lot of people call Azrael a relic who is only fit for a museum. Being imprisoned in a sarcophagus for 900 years doesn't give you much of a chance to adjust in the way Uriel or Gabriel were been able to. She just got thrown violently into the twenty first century, when her last memory was of Hierakonpolis in 1099 AD.

[greatwrath]

is azrael loud and proud or does she hide her sexuality

Azrael is what I like to call STRESSED & REPRESSED™. It has nothing to do with her being lesbian. I mean, four of her siblings are pansexual and Raphael is Ace, and anti-LGBTQ prejudice does not exist amongst angels. The problem is that angels aren't supposed to be attracted to humans full stop, or entertain said attraction. It's forbidden. It looks especially bad for Azrael, because she was the enforcer of that law as a serving angel, and she executed/imprisoned the angels who broke it.

So yeah, Azrael is aware that she is attracted to women, which is incredibly concerning for her. She denies it, hides it, and represses it so hard she could burst a blood vessel. If you ask, she will tell you she does not have the capacity for sexual feelings. That is, of course, super not true.

[greatwrath]

How much damage would be done if Azrael was killed?

According to prophecy, the final war between Heaven and Hell will only end one of two ways. Hell will win control of the Earth if all the Archangels are dead, thereby also leaving Heaven undefended and without leaders. Heaven will only win once Satan, the heart of darkness, is dead, and the only way for that to happen is for all six Archangels (including Lucifer) to incinerate his heart. Once his heart turns to ashes, so will the rest of Hell's army. So, killing Azrael would mean that Earth and Heaven are doomed.

The death of an Archangel is also felt by all the other Archangels, which would be a problem for Valoel and Barachiel. It would immediately attract the attention of Michael, and would likely incriminate Valoel. More than half of the High Council would be imprisoned and possibly executed for treason. That's bad news bears.

[greatwrath]

I was thinking last night about how, despite all of Azrael’s negative traits, she has never been ambitious, never craved power or position, and never been a warmonger. Azrael recognized she had a duty to fulfill and a role to play, and she never sought anything more than that. That is, perhaps, one of the reasons Azrael was so bent out of shape over Lucifer’s ambitions and subsequent betrayal. 

Still Azrael retains these same traits, while others have fallen away over time. They are the only traits that have been constant from day one. And I think that’s important.