#i feel like i always slander Morgan

[starch1ldz]

Morgan: Well werewolf boy over here-

Wolfdog!y/n: For the last time, Agent Morgan, I and a wolfdog hybrid. Not a werewolf!

Morgan: I don't really see the difference.

Wolfdog!y/n: The difference is, werewolves don't exist. I was genetically engineered by scientists to be a weapon. Also, if I was a werewolf, I would have eaten you by now.

[avis-writeshq]

omg omg please for track four of your event 🙈 we know that sparks fly!reader calls spencer ‘Walter’ but can we get the first time he calls her ‘angel’ please???? 💕💕

l.d.s.k – spencer reid [bonus 'sparks fly' chapter]

summary: in other words, the first time spencer calls you an angel pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff warnings: rated 15+ for general criminal minds violence, canon compliant with s1 e6 ‘L.D.S.K’, a hint of Derek slander oops, not beta read wc: 2.2k a/n: many many apologies for the delay anon! i hope this can live up to your expectations! sparks fly masterlist | event page

“Reid failed his qualification,” Elle tells you as she makes her way into the bullpen looking flawless as ever. 

Her words bring you out of your daily crossword puzzle, your brows furrowing. “He failed?”

“Well, he can re-test in two weeks,” Gideon says dismissively, making his way over to the water dispenser.

Elle shrugs, craning her head to look at him. “They took his gun this morning,” she replies. She looks back over. “Be gentle.”

“I’m always gentle,” you tell her, harshly erasing a wrong answer in your puzzle. “Was that not already obvious?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Elle responds swiftly, her gaze set on Derek’s forehead. 

Derek is quick to raise his hands in surrender, but the glimmer of amusement sparks in his eyes. You narrow your own just as Spencer comes walking through the glass doors with Gideon following behind him. The young doctor looks dejected as ever, the grip he has on the strap of his bag so tight that his knuckles blanche. 

He slumps down onto his desk beside you, turning the computer on with a scowl. You open your mouth to say something, an attempt of making him feel better, but Derek beats you to it.

“We’re all here for you,” Derek says, noticing the way Spencer avoids his gaze. “I’m serious.”

It starts off well. Spencer finally begrudgingly looks Derek in the eye, an unimpressed look on his face.

“If you ever need anything,” Derek continues, fishing something out of his pocket. You lean over the desk divider to get a better look, but apparently you don’t need to. A shrill whistle sound fills the air, and Morgan snickers in jest. “Just blow on that.”

Spencer’s face falls into a stern frown as he hurries to rip the whistle off his neck, throwing it onto his desk. 

You try once more to offer any form of condolences but your efforts are once again cut off by JJ carrying a stack of manila folders and passing them off to the team. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying (something about a shooting and three victims?), your gaze fixed on Spencer’s troubled face. The others rattle off about long distance serial killers and profiling, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for your lack of contribution, but your thoughts are filled with more pressing matters. 

After the briefing and Hotch saying a simple, “Wheels up in twenty”, you turn in Derek’s direction as you stuff your bag with files and random pieces of stationary. Elle sits within earshot, packing her own things. 

“Why are you so mean to him?” Your voice carries no malice and you don’t look in his direction at all, head down as you furrow through your go-bag.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“To Spencer,” you clarify, “like, just now. He was already in a bad mood. You didn’t really have to say much else.”

“I’m just… toughening him up,” Derek says with a shrug. 

“This job would do that by itself. Spencer doesn’t need to ‘toughen up’, and this job doesn’t need your help to do that, either.” You lift your shoulder noncommittally. “I think you’re just insecure.” 

Elle cackles at that, stifling her laughter behind her fist while Derek snaps his head in your direction. “Alright then, I’ll bite. How am I insecure?”

“You’re a classic alpha male, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you’re an alpha male who is in a work environment where almost every other man is also an alpha male. Spencer is the opposite; he’s more timid which, again, not a bad thing, and he’s also more intellectually gifted.” A wry smile spreads across your face as you hoist your bag off your desk and sling it over your shoulder. “You’re insecure that he’s smarter than you and because he’s the quote-un-quote ‘weakest’ of the pack, you just can’t help but pick on him.”

“Reid and I are friends,” Derek says defensively. “And come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t his ramblings a little bit annoying.”

You hum. “I don’t find them annoying. Even if I did, I wouldn’t cut my friends off when they’re talking about something they find interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He swears that it was never his intention– he just forgot his wallet on his desk after everything that happened that morning. Regardless, hearing you defend him in such a way is enough to make his stomach flip.

He’s barely known you for two years. He joined the team a little after you did, granted, he was a permanent addition to the team while you at the time was just interning as a part of the course you were taking. It was only after a very long discussion with Hotch that you became a solid member of the BAU (you told Spencer all of this while you shook out your hands and by extension the nerves you experienced when you were seated in front of your boss’s desk with your resume. It took everything in him to not grab onto your hands and hold them firmly in his). 

Even when you were an intern and only at work two out of the five workdays, Spencer was able to find solace in you. He didn’t really understand the logistics of it, much to his chagrin, but he has chalked it up to you being a little younger than him and feeling that slight twinge of ‘protectiveness’ over you. It doesn’t make sense, he gathers upon second thought, you don’t need protecting. Despite that, he finds himself gravitating to you as if you were the earth and he was the moon. You, full of life and all things wonderful, and him, a dim light that he hopes could brighten up your darkest nights. 

He doesn’t think that that comparison is accurate enough, is the conclusion he comes to when he hears you chastise Derek for his lack of compassion. It isn’t so much ‘chastising’ as it is stating a fact. Spencer thinks you’re an angel and that everyone should kiss the floor you walk on. His head spins with facts about angels and their origins. He mumbles the facts under his breath, considering all the different backgrounds of angels and the connotations of viewing you as such. Spencer scrunches his nose in annoyance. He’ll be thinking about this the entire flight. 

*** 

You sit next to him during the flight. Your hands are in your lap as you fiddle with your fingertips, almost as if you’re contemplating something. Spencer glances at you expectantly from the corner of his eye, ignoring the book he is supposed to be reading.

“I know I shouldn’t really have to say this, but don’t worry about Derek,” you tell him through a hushed whisper. “He’s just being an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, trying to not look fazed about the situation. “I know.”

You shift again in your seat before playfully flipping his collar upwards. “I like this shirt on you. Red is totally your colour.”

He thinks it’s pathetic, the way his eyes light up and the way he physically preens at your compliments. “There have been studies on the colour red and how it may impact one’s perceptions of others. Actually, it has been found that seeing the colour red can cause an elevation in blood pressure, enhanced metabolism, and a spike in heart rate which are all physiological changes associated in increased energy levels. Another study showed that those who wear red are perceived to be more sexually appealing than those who wear other colours.”

His cheeks flare in embarrassment upon realising the insinuation of his words and he hurriedly backtracks. “Not that I was expecting anything! It was just interesting and–”

“Walter, it’s fine.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay! You’re right, it is interesting.”

Spencer doesn’t think you’re an angel anymore. He knows it. He manages to crack a smile. “You think so?”

You nod enthusiastically, looking over at him. “Tell me more.”

He thinks that he might faint.

*** 

The hospital is under lockdown. Your head spins when you see SWAT making their way through the lobby, armed in heavy bulletproof uniform and guns that are at least half your height. You’ve never had to work a situation where they had to be called and the severity of the situation sinks in. 

“Hotch and Spencer will be okay, right?” You ask worriedly, glancing over to where Gideon is trying to negotiate with the captain.

“They’re good at what they do,” JJ reassures gently, squeezing your arm. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Gideon returns with a disgruntled frown, gesturing with annoyance towards the SWAT team. “They’re taking the ER in three minutes.”

“That’s it?” Your words are quiet as you try not to attract the attention of the people in said team. “So, what, Hotch and Spencer need to talk down a crazy armed sociopath in three minutes?”

“It’s like they don’t even want our help,” Elle says through a grumble. “What’s the point of asking us here if they’re not even going to listen to us?”

Somehow, those three minutes are both the longest and shortest three minutes of your life. There’s nothing you can do except wait and even then, the hospital is borderline silent. You’re not necessarily sure if that’s a good thing. You watch with the others as SWAT trek up the stairs in formation, and you wring your hands out nervously. Time continues to tick by and just when you’re sure that you’ll be stuck here for the next however many hours, a loud bang rings through the hospital. It’s so sudden that you jolt on the spot, your head snapping towards the door. 

A few civilians, all accompanied by SWAT agents, make their way through the doors and towards the ambulances stationed outside. You follow them out, taking in a breath of fresh night air while a shiver runs down your spine from the cool breeze. Everything seems to be in order and everyone seems to be calm and collected. That must be a good sign, right?

Spence grimaces from his spot on the back of an ambulance, rubbing at his lower torso. The pain isn’t that bad anymore, but it does feel a little raw from where Hotch repeatedly kicked him. His face is bruised from where Phillip Dowd hit him with the back of his rifle. The gun he used feels heavy in his pocket and he genuinely isn’t used to it being there. 

“You alright?” Hotch asks. He’s using a softer tone, one that Spencer isn’t particularly accustomed to.

Spencer nods, his arms crossed over his stomach. “Yeah.”

“Nice shot.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I was aiming for his leg.”

Hotch looks a little amused before he continues, “I wouldn’t have kept kicking but I was afraid you didn’t get my plan.”

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire,” Spencer says genuinely, nodding.

“Well, I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch says guiltily.

Spencer can’t help but laugh quietly. “Hotch, I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine year old girl.” He pauses, offering the gun back to him.

“No, keep it,” Hotch says, patting Spencer squarely on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned you passed your qualification.”

Spencer offers a smile as his boss walks away, his gaze meeting yours as you hurry over to him. “Hey–”

“Walter, your face,” you lament with a frown, reaching a hand out to brush against the bruising.

Spencer flinches, hissing softly and you pull back. “It’s still a little sore.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, glancing again at his injuries, worry laced in your tone and etched upon your features. 

“You’re an angel,” Spencer says softly in a daze, watching the way the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Heat travels up towards your cheeks at his words and you press the backs of your hands against your face in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I’m not an angel.”

He’s in too deep to try and backtrack so he nods. “You are,” he says honestly, looking up at you from where he sits on the ambulance. “And if you can call me by my middle name, doesn’t that mean I can give you a nickname too?”

“Well, I guess,” you relent, your heart still aching at the sight of the bruise on the side of his face. 

He beams at you as he pockets the gun. “Alright, then, angel.”

Your cheeks grow hot again and this time you feel the blood rush to your ears. “It’ll take a while to get used to it.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“I heard what you did in there,” you say swiftly, effectively changing the subject. “You don’t need that whistle anymore.”

Spencer nods and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, angel.”

“Anytime, Walter.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

sparks fly masterlist | event page

[igotanidea]

Cold weather: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Christmas bingo day 14 : cold weather

~Oh, the weather outside is frightful…~

“Turn it down.”

“Well, it’s not like the song has nothing to do with reality-“ Y/N retorted not really listening to Hotch’s command “it is particularly cold weather today.”

The words she used were quite an understatement. When the BAU team (strengthen by the fellow DA in the person of Y/N) left for yet another field action, there was no premonition of the upcoming blizzard and the temperature drop. Currently, it was hard to drive due to the heavy snowfall, but neither Y/N nor Derek seemed to be bothered by it. Maybe it was because they were both the passengers, but seemingly nothing could destroy their Christmas spirit, not even an unhinged killer on the loose. Obviously they were professional, as always, but their humour and attitude were something the chief of the unit were struggling to put up with, leaving him wondering why did he even choose those two to come with in the first place.  

“Turn it down.” This time it was far more stern, even for Aaron.

“Are you a Grinch now, Hotch?” Morgan grinned from the back seat, earning nothing more than a single grunt from his boss and turning the radio off. “Come on!”

“We’re at work.”

“So what?” Derek whined “working as the profiler does not come along with being gloomy during Christmas time-“

“Morgan!” Y/N felt the need to intervene upon noticing slight, almost untraceable frown on Hotch’s face “enough.” 

“Oh, so you’re siding with the boss now, Y/N?” the fellow agent leaned forward from behind the seat “Just so you know, sunshine, that’s treason.”

“He’s not my boss. I’m independent of FBI And what you just said is a slander. Pretty sure is punishable.”

“don’t give me the DA talk, Y/N. Besides-” her friend’s smile only grew wider as he moved to whisper in her ear “are you sure you are not biased because of someone’s presence?”

“Enough. Both of you.” Hotch silenced them way more effectively by pulling off the car, showing his discomfort with the subject of the conversation. Of course he knew, he was a profiler for god’s sake. “We’re here.”

Three other cars were already parked nearby and the rest of the team were waiting Obviously, the crime scene was the open area and they were going to investigate and look for clues during a snowstorm, in the cold, and almost in the dark.

“Tell me again, whose idea was it to come here right away? There is no chance we are going to find anything.” Morgan almost rolled his eyes at the nonsense of the action.

“Not with that attitude, Morgan.” Hotch muttered growlingly, turning up the collar of his coat “You could have stayed at the precinct if you’re just going to complain.”

“Can I still get back there?”

“Guys! Come and see this!” the only excited person present, Spencer, called from the side of the trees, already invested in the searching, standing knee-deep in the snow inspecting something that might have been a trace as well as some irrelevant dust brought by the wind.

“What you got there, kiddo?” Morgan almost instantly moved toward the direction from with Spencer’s voice was coming. He was surprisingly protective of the young doctor. Added value, that he finally left Y/N and the BAU boss alone.

“Cold?” Hotch asked

“What? Cold? Me? No. Not really. Not at all.” She shivered from an icy gust of wind.

“You’re shaking.”

“Am I? Really? Didn’t notice.” sticking hands in her pockets did not bring the intended effect at all.

“Maybe you should be the one heading back instead of Morgan?”

“No way! It’s my job to-“

“You’re the DA. There’s no body here. You’re useless here.”

Oh. Oh damn, that hurt.

“Useless?” she frowned feeling her cheeks flustering from the sudden rush of emotions, unable to hide it “Well I;m pretty sure if you keep dragging your team through the frozen lake in search for clues we will have a corpse in no time.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow.

“Wonder who will be useless then.” She scoffed and walked past him to join the rest of the BAU. However, she didn’t get far when a sudden grip on her hand made her stop in her tracks.

“You’re wasting time.” Hotch pointed out roughly, pulling her along, sticking her gloveless hand in the pocket of his  coat, entwining their fingers, effectively hiding the fact from the view.

***

“What got into your head?” he was fuming an hour later, his fiery gaze focused on her shaking silhouette covered by the thickest blanket they could find at the provincial precinct, sitting next to the radiator with the steaming cup of chamomile tea in her hands. “If you were my subordinate-“

“Good thing I am not then, agent Hotchner.” She cut him off with a mocking, teasing look.“Proved my point. Both of them, actually.” Yes, jumping to save Spencer, who turned out to be an unfortunate person under whom the ice broke, may not have been rational, but it was certainly heroic. “we almost had another body. And hey, guess I am not useless after all.”

 “We’ll see. But I might see some potential to keep you around.” Maybe it was an optic illusion but it seemed like the left corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“For work?” she smirked

“Yes.”

That piercing gaze were getting a little bit uncomfortable so just to cover for the additional shaking of her hands (not from the cold) she took a sip of her drink.

“L/N?”

“Hm?”

“You should use more hand cream. Your skin is scabrous.”

What the hell was he hinting at?!  

@somest1

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @miri-tiazan; alpha!Kon and his supermom.

"I . . . just because he isn't attracted to me doesn't mean he thinks of me as any kind of a dam or wants to be in our family pack," Clara says with another sigh. "Even wanting to nurse from me doesn't mean that. I've never seen him feral before. He might react this way to any older omega he feels safe with when he's like this. Hell, just any older omega he knows." 

"Didn't you say it seemed like he'd never nursed before, though?" Lois reminds her pointedly. 

"Well . . . yes, but . . ." Clara trails off. Curls her fingers against Kon's scalp again. 

It still feels nice. 

And she still smells better than anything. 

"I'm not saying it's a definite, obviously," Lois says. "But maybe don't stress too much about how he's gonna react to your feelings about him either." 

“Maybe,” Clara says softly, scritching lightly at Kon’s scalp. He rumbles contentedly and leans into the contact, and she makes a quiet little noise and then . . . croons. Just a little. 

He’s never heard her do that before, but it sounds so nice. Makes him feel . . . makes him feel . . . 

He’s not sure what it makes him feel. 

But it sounds so, so nice. 

“Kon,” Clara says, her voice still more a croon than anything else, and Kon feels warm and heavy and good. Clara strokes his hair back off his forehead and keeps crooning senseless, sweet little sounds, and he melts against her. She can take his weight. It’s Clara. She could take the whole world’s weight. 

And she’s already holding him, so . . . so that means she doesn’t mind, right? 

Her pheromones smell so good, and her crooning is so nice, and her milk tastes . . . 

Kon really, really loves her. He doesn’t know why he ever goes anywhere Clara’s not. Like–why he ever leaves Metropolis, he means. That’s her territory, after all, and he wants to always be in her territory. It’s just–that’s the best place to be. 

It always has been, he’s pretty sure. 

“Well, Twitter has transitioned into arguing with itself about the decency of public nursing, especially with an already-presented unconfirmed packmate,” Lois observes. “Which is a step up from WGBS, which seems to think you’re an exhibitionist and has made some very pointed and borderline slanderous comments about feral people’s reduced capacity to consent, especially when on their cycles. And also some bigoted crap about clones’ capacity to even think, fuck Morgan Edge and his bullshit excuse for an opinion very much.” 

“Assholes,” Clara mutters, stroking Kon’s hair again. He feels even better. The uncomfortable burn of his rut is a vague, distant thing, and it doesn’t matter at all next to Clara’s warm pheromones and sweet milk and crooning voice. Even when she’s muttering disparaging things about "yellow journalism", which is what she’s currently doing while Lois stifles laughter. 

Kon doesn’t actually know what yellow journalism is, but he could listen to Clara complain about it all day, he’s pretty sure. 

He really does love her. 

That’s . . . something he doesn’t think about, usually, he’s vaguely aware. He’s . . . supposed to not think about it, he means. Because if he thought about it, or said it, it’d be . . . bad, he thinks. Or . . . something. 

But he’s supposed to do what feels natural, and right now nothing feels more natural than how much he loves her. She's–she's not his mom, but . . .

But he feels like he thinks he would, if she were. If she actually . . .

He thinks this is what that would feel like, anyway. 

Is it? 

“I’m going to write an editorial about that man and his damn show. I’m going to write two editorials about that man,” Clara finishes in a grumble, and Kon nuzzles into her stroking hand. He thinks she’s out of milk now, mostly, but he feels warm and full and good and doesn’t really mind. Not as long as she’s going to keep petting his hair and holding him like this. 

He thinks he could fall asleep right here in her lap and never feel better in his whole stupid life. Which–admittedly he hasn’t had that long of a life to be collecting “better” experiences in, but . . . yeah. Still. 

He really loves her. 

He knows he’s not allowed to say that, but he kinda wishes he were. 

[chenziee]

Keep you in my thoughts and books

Written for the gen side of the @newscoozines Halloween Zine! You can download the gen zine >here<, the shipping zine >here<, and the digital merch >here<!! All for free :D

Merry spook or something like that 🎃

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI | COMM INFO ]

—————

Halloween was the best, Linlin had always thought. Even as a child, it was the one night she could eat all the sweets she wanted without her parents scolding her. And she always got all the treats in the whole town. Everyone who tried to hold out on her got the trick.

Those were the rules, after all!

Linlin chuckled at the memory of her old neighbours’ garden getting ripped apart by her tiny toddler hands after they refused to hand over their candy. As if other kids needed them more than her. Ah, that was fun!

She didn’t have to do that now; now, she got everything she wanted and more.

Licking her lips, Linlin hummed happily at the sweetness of the chocolate on them; it was silky smooth, like the most delicious blood on her tongue. She would never get enough of it.

“Are you happy, Linlin?”

A wide smile appeared on Linlin’s face at the familiar voice. “Mother! There you are!” Linlin called, her voice full of joy.

Oh, how she’d missed the Mother—how long had it been? A few minutes? Hours? 

Or decades?

—————

“Mama, Mother Carmel is here,” the chess soldier said solemnly as he carefully placed the photo on the table directly opposite Linlin.

Linlin sighed, a soft smile pulling on her lips. She nodded, taking in the familiar grin immortalised in the picture frame; she could almost hear her kind voice whispering assurances in her ear. Merciful words of love and acceptance, the Mother’s presence itself full of warmth.

“President Morgans, isn’t that woman the human trafficker Mount—”

“No!” Morgans hissed immediately, cutting his employee off before he could finish.

Still, Linlin’s eyes narrowed, her gaze turning ice-cold. It wasn’t the first such preposterous slander… but it still enraged her every time. How dare these people accuse the Mother of such things? It was insulting to her memory—as well as to Linlin herself.

“M-my, Madam Carmel looks stunning as always!” Morgans hurried over, bowing slightly to the Mother before turning to Linlin. “I must say, Mamigo, your Halloween tea parties are always a delight!”

Linlin huffed; she knew full well what Morgans was doing… but she would allow it, just for today.

Today was a day for celebration.

Today, she could feel the Mother’s comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Maamamama! All thanks to my sweet children!”

Morgans nodded, making a show of looking around in awe. “I agree. The Minister of Candy outdid himself this time!”

Laughing, Linlin agreed easily—after all, it was Perospero who was in charge of the decorations; even the tables and chairs were made with his sculptured candy. She let her gaze wander around the elaborate setup, taking in the sight of her children and guests mingling. Most of the ornate chairs were unoccupied, their beauty on full display—

Suddenly, she froze.

At the table next to hers was a child; not one of her own, but one that was intimately familiar to her nonetheless. There was a crown sitting atop the boy’s blond hair, freckles on his nose, and dark circles underneath his eyes—eyes that stared directly at Linlin, cold and soulless, yet piercing.

Linlin blinked… and the child was gone, as if never there.

“Mamigo…?”

“Huh?” Linlin jerked, accidentally knocking her teacup over. Cursing quietly, she shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Whoever, whatever that was, he was below Linlin’s notice—and intruders could be taken care of by the security. 

A smile finding its way on her lips again, Linlin turned to face Morgans once more. “Ah, never mind, never mind!” She laughed, then snapped her fingers to get a refill of her tea. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the party, Morgans! Have you tried Smoothie’s Kirin drink?”

“Oh, yes! I must say, it’s quite delicious. You should tell her to sell it, you could make a lot of money with it! I’ll even take care of the advertising for you, Mamigo!” 

There was a devious spark in his tiny bird-eyes, and Linlin laughed loudly. “Mamamama!! You’re as much of a vulture as always.”

As Morgans defended his ‘business sense’ and ‘journalist’s soul,’ Linlin couldn’t help but glance back at the table next to them. Stussy was sitting in that chair now, another relic of the past… but she felt different.

Lillin dismissed the thought.

—————

Walking through the halls of Whole Cake Chateau after the tea party, Linlin clicked her tongue. She had told Zeus to go get some food delivered to her room ages ago but the thundercloud hadn’t come back, nor were her damn treats there! She should have sent Prometheus; he was such a good kid compared to idiot Zeus.

Now, where were all the soldiers and the homies? She was getting tired of doing her servants’ jobs for them!

“Homie—” she stopped, her irritated expression turning to one of confusion when she noticed the figure crouching on the ground. They wore a familiar hat reminiscent of a panda’s head, their figure slender and shrouded in shadow, seemingly melting into their surroundings.

The sight made Linlin pause for a second… but then a grin pulled on her lips. Finally someone who can deal with her damned food delivery.

“Poire!” Linlin called out to her daughter. “Go tell Streusen to send me a snack!”

Poire didn't move, not acknowledging Linlin at all.

Linlin’s eyes narrowed, her patience running thin. “Hey! Did you hear me, Poire?!”

Finally, the girl raised her head. The movement was slow, as if she were fighting some great force to do so… or was just too lazy to look at her own damn mother when she was talking to her. Linlin took a deep breath, an insult on the tip of her tongue—

But then, their eyes met.

It wasn’t Poire.

It wasn’t any of her children.

“What… are you doing here?” she asked in surprise, taking a step back.

The child didn’t respond to her question; the face of a half-mink simply stared back at her, eerily silent. His face was unmistakable—nose and mouth akin to an animal, fur growing where his hair should be, panda ears sitting proudly on top of his head. The round, light brown eyes that gazed up at Linlin were young and innocent but carrying the weight of resentment.

Linlin knew who he was… but it was difficult to believe.

It had been 61 years since she had last seen this child, yet he looked not a day older than he did back then.

“Where have you been?! You disappeared on me!” Linlin’s voice shook with a mix of emotion. She wasn’t sure whether she was happy… or beyond herself with anger.

And still, the child only looked at her, motionless.

It felt like hours before he opened his mouth the slightest bit, a single quiet word passing through his lips. “Why?”

Linlin blinked a few times, her brow scrunching up into a frown. “Hah?”

“Why did you do that to us?”

Linlin’s frown only deepened at the question—at the accusation. But, before she could respond or do anything, someone else called out to her, making her jump.

“Mama!”

Inadvertently, Linlin turned to look at the young girl approaching her. “Ah… Pudding.”

“Mama, are you alright?” Pudding asked, taken aback. She studied Linlin’s expression, then glanced around the hallway, seemingly searching for the source of her mother’s distress… but finding none.

Quickly, Linlin looked back at the half-mink child—but the hallway was empty; the boy wasn’t there anymore, gone like steam over a fresh cup of hot chocolate. Just like the Prince earlier.

“Mama…?”

Heaving a deep sigh, Linlin closed her eyes momentarily before shooting an annoyed look at Pudding. “What is it?”

Something dark flashed over Pudding’s face but it was gone immediately, replaced by her usual sweet, innocent expression and obedient smile. She gestured to the cart she was pushing. “Zeus said you wanted a snack so I brought you some cupcakes from Chiff—Mr Streusen and my special chocolate pumpkins!”

Oh.

Linlin’s mouth watered at the sight of the treats and in a split second, the encounter she had just experienced evaporated from her mind.

Sugar was all that mattered, after all.

—————

As she sat in her room with nothing but her tasty treats, Linlin thought back to the two boys she had seen today. They had both disappeared too quickly and suddenly…Was it because there were people around?

She supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

Not when she was sitting in her fluffy armchair, eating Pudding’s chocolate pumpkins, and taking in the unchanged faces of all her old friends from the House of Lambs. She hadn’t noticed them coming in, nor had she seen them sitting down on the floor around her, but here they were now.

And Linlin… was excited.

It had been so many years, years full of nothing but questions—and now, they were back.

Licking her lips, Linlin hummed happily at the sweetness of the chocolate on them; it was silky smooth, like the most delicious blood on her tongue. She would never get enough of it.

After all, sweets tasted the best when shared with friends, with family.

“Are you happy, Linlin?”

A wide smile spread on Linlin’s face at the familiar voice. “Mother! There you are!!” Linlin called, her voice full of joy. Oh, how she’d missed the Mother, how she’d waited to hear her voice again. “I knew you’d come see me, too!”

“I wish we never said ‘happy birthday’ to you.” The Mother’s voice sounded strangely cold; there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on her face.

Linlin tilted her head to the side in confusion, her eyebrows scrunching together slightly. “Because you disappeared right after?” she asked… then laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Never mind that! You’re here now!”

“Linlin,” the only other girl in the group said softly.

“Linlin,” the fishman joined in.

“Linlin.”

One by one, the children called her name, their tones solemn and carrying a strange weight, until finally, it was Mother’s turn again. “Linlin. Look at them. Look at me. Look at us.”

“Hah?”

Linlin’s frown deepened, but she complied, studying her guests’ faces, their hair, their bodies, until she finally realised what the Mother was talking about. There were dark stains on everyone’s clothes. One of the children was missing an arm. Another was missing a leg.

There was a raw, fresh scar resembling a bite-mark running across the Mother’s face. It was still bleeding.

Linlin could swear none of it was there before…

Oh well!

“Maamamama!! You can go clean up in the bathroom, it’s past the door over there!” Linlin said, pointing to the back of her room.

The Mother was quiet for a moment, regarding Linlin as if waiting to hear something more—or something else entirely. Linlin didn’t know, and she didn’t care.

Taking a large bite of the next chocolaty treat, a wide, content smile spread on her lips.

She had waited 61 years for this moment. It didn’t matter to her what the children’s, or the Mother’s reason for coming after all this time was. She wasn’t letting them get away again.

Tomorrow, she would have her soldiers prepare secure rooms for all her friends; her kids could watch them, make sure they were comfortable—and not going anywhere. She was not letting them slip through her grasp this time.

Worst case, she would have Mont-d’Or take care of it with his books.

But, that was a problem for tomorrow; tonight, Linlin was happy, surrounded by the only friends she had ever had, eating the sweetest chocolate she had ever tasted.

—————

The next day, no trace of the Mother or the children from the House of Lambs could be found no matter how hard Katakuri, Perospero, and the others looked.

Linlin was left alone again, with nothing but a bitter taste on her tongue and eerie, bloody palm prints left all over her nightgown.

Next year, if they come by again…

Linlin would make sure to catch them and never let go.

[jedimasterbailey]

Hey there love 😘 for the writer ask game 💚, ❤️,💜, 💛,🤍, 🤎

Hi baby! 🥰 I love that you selected all the other colors so no one else takes them 🤣

💚- Do you ever feel inspired by and/or jealous of other people’s writing?

I’m always inspired by other people’s work whenever I read because I’m actually quite picky on what I read and have a super short attention span so if a fic gets my attention I’m always taking mental notes on how the author got my attention and enjoyment and I try to do it in my own writing. Huge shoutout to @mini-and-mighty @bluedeedeedoop @kaaragen @stellanslashgeode @alexeithegoat @archduke42 @lesbiansandpuns and of course my dearest wife @devondeal for writing my favorite pieces of fiction ever. Everyone should check out their work.

❤️- Do you ever feel anxious or scared while writing? If so, why?

Honestly no, writing is when I feel my most confident so it’s just pure fun for me.

💜- Name one song you’re listening to while writing your next/current fic. How or why does it help the writing process?

Oh I love this question because music really drives my work and is a need besides caffeine for me to write ☺️ I’m currently going in between my Luminara and Barriss story and the sequel story to The Padawans and where I’m in in both stories, I’m having to really delve into Barriss’s depression and internal pain and even Luminara’s I may add so I listen to the song “Birds” by Audrey Morgan. I guarantee you that you will think of Barriss Offee and/or Luminara Unduli when you hear that song and/or read the lyrics.

💛- Do you ever alter, highlight, or de-empathize certain canonical traits in a character? If so, why and describe how.

I definitely do more highlighting on Luminara and Barriss’s positive canonical traits (I.e. their compassion, their intelligence, etc.) because they receives so much slander from the Star Wars fandom that it’s partially why I started writing fic in the first place, because I want to chip away at that negativity.

🤍- What’s a fanfic scenario or idea you’d like someone else to write so you can read it?

I’d love to see someone tackle any of these ideas I have not conquered yet but would love to see someone’s interpretation of it.

1.) Ahsoka thinking of Barriss during the events of Order 66 and/or the events of the Ahsoka novel

2.) Luminara and Barriss during Order 66

3.) Luminara and Barriss in the direct aftermath of the first Geonosis battle

4.) How Ahsoka and Captain Rex split up after Padme’s funeral

5.) A Luminara and Ventress adventure after the events of Cloak of Darkness

🤎- How did you decide to write (or why are you writing) a certain fanfic?

I write fanfic mainly to fill in gaps in the Star Wars timeline canon refuses to touch on (I.e Barriss and Ahsoka post Wrong Jedi arc, Luminara and Barriss pre Clone Wars, etc.)this why I write them so that I can have that closure 🤣

[abeinginsand]

ooh also 💝👻 for Glenn for the headcanon ask game!

Hi again!! ooo Glenn hc time!! :D Sorry I took awhile, this one ended up longer than expected

Hcs Ask Game

--- 💝 A headcanon about their love language I will say that I have two ideas here that might contradict each other but regardless-- Glenn loves being held, around the waist, by the hand, in a hug, the rare piggy back or bridal carry etc. He loves feeling someone's weight, their warm presence against him. His mind chanting subconsciously: Show me you're here. Show me I'm not alone

However, he never knew how much he enjoyed physical affection given how lacking it was growing up until falling for one amazing Morgan Freeman. She always loved hooking their arms together as they walked or weaving a hand through his hair when they rested together. They took turns carrying each other down the aisle even! It was overwhelming at times though and they eventually talked about it. She was good at that--making talking about things and setting boundaries a little more fun and little less like nails on a chalkboard (the sentimental weed helped too of course).

And when she.... well he found himself being affectionate like she had in some ways even after he couldn't hold onto her anymore. Hugs Nick close when they head to bed for the night, even though neither sleep that well anymore. He puts an arm around Darryl's shoulder and leans in to talk to him. Let's Henry braid his hair at the campfire when his friend needs something for his trembling hands to do. Teaches Ron about a proper fist-bump and high-five. Childishly getting into poking/elbowing sessions with Jodie (the usual sibling bickering (tm)) Eventually, gathers the courage to ask for hugs sometimes too. As a goodbye at first, planning to head into Hell, but after, too, when they all still kept meeting up. When Nicky was still small enough, he'd pick him up and spin him around sometimes or they'd fly around together. All while said teen groaned dramatically or laughed... --- On the other hand, something Glenn has always done without influence is use his voice as an instrument of love in itself. He'd never explain it like that though since that sounds pretty cheesy. The musician enjoys giving people nicknames/petnames and absolutely adores making up little songs for loved ones. He had a little song he sang with Bill when he was kid though he only remembers the tune and not the lyrics when he gets older. He made new lyrics and sang it as a lullaby instead. For the songs lyrics themselves...nothing that his band would play nor anything for a radio station--more so a minute or two of short tunes based on mundane stuff. Singing a clean-up song to motivate little Nick to help him and Morgan clean up his toys for example. Back when Morgan was still working at Disneyland, he had this 'finally off work' song he'd serenade her with when he picked her up from work or when she came back home to find him holding a snoozing kiddo on the couch. Though there were plenty of other spicier songs for Morgan too to which she was entertained and plenty flustered about, she called him kitten as usual but also a menace (affectionate) ;] So in summary, wants to be held, will not ask unless you've known him for years, will happily sing and create cheesy songs for people though ---- 👻 A headcanon about what scares them ...Hmm, first thought was not being recognized by people he cares about. Now I don't know much about Christine and sorry if this sounds like slander but... I think she'd be the origin of this particular fear. When things were good between his parents, they spent time together all the time. Huddled up on the couch with 'Glenny' in the middle to watch his mom's favorite shows. Or stroll around town or the park and be told stories about how how much the city changed since Bill was a kid ("see, used to be a big-ol dog statue over here but it got sold for a charity or somethin'. Now there's rose bushes over there. Tell me, what you would have put there, kid?"). To which he excitedly said 'a statue of meatball' (his canonical pet goldfish) and Bill gave him a round of applause and a fist bump while Christine softly patted his hair with a soft smile. But after the divorce/separation, mom moved out fast, and his parents swapped him from home to home every few weeks. Well there's the line during the court case that's something like "mom taught me rules and dad told me how to break them." Eventually, Christine didn't recognize her son anymore--he seemed so much more Bill every year and it...well she wished it didn't annoy her but oh boy it did. She found herself distancing herself from both Bill and Glenn especially after seeing her side of the parenting undone every month. At some point, Bill gets Glenn into some trouble as a teen and he tries for once to ask his mom for help. And she lets the resentment get the best of her in the moment, the feelings having built up. Says something like "I told you to stop listening to him. You're not my son, you're his. I couldn't fix him and I can't help you." They don't meet up in person after that, only the occasional text or once a month call.

He can't win back his mom, but darn does he try to be whatever people want him to be after that. To keep them around because he's always afraid he'll become a 'stranger' to avoid again.

Unfortunately, this also leads to letting his son be his friend and desperately hoping to impress him at all times.

[themculibrary]

Fics With Titles That Start With Y Masterlist

Yellow Journalists & Rose Gold Hearts (ao3) - heyjupiter bruce/tony G, 3k

Summary: When the Daily Bugle slanders Spider-Man, Peter Parker's loved ones show support in their own ways.

Years in the making (ao3) - glittercake sam/bucky G, 7k

Summary: Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

Ye merry gentlemen (ao3) - Just_Bill bucky/steve/tony T, 7k

Summary: Because the cold of New York City winter is triggering to both Steve and Bucky, they spend the cold months in the tropics. Lots of fluff ensues. Lots. Bring a toothbrush.

Yoda One For Me (ao3) - Sunshineshipper mj/peter G, 5k

Summary: There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to give Peter a romantic and nerdy card and also sign it. That was never going to happen. Which means Peter and Ned spent the entire lunch period conversing about his new secret admirer.

you always stand up (ao3) - oldrival pepper/tony G, 4k

Summary: endgame fix-it !! with a happy ending for everyone

You bring me closer to God (ao3) - Late_to_party_81 bucky/joaquin E, 8k

Summary: Bucky’s pissed off, his blood boiling, but all he can think about is taking out his frustrations on a certain, newly-minted Falcon.

you came back as the underdog (ao3) - buries bucky/wanda E, 119k

Summary: After the events of Westview, Wanda’s content to isolate herself away from the rest of the world in Sokovia. Unfortunately for her, Bucky has other plans.

You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To (ao3) - EmilianaDarling steve/bucky E, 26k

Summary: “What about you, Barnes?” asks Dugan. The sound of his voice brings Bucky back to the present, dredges him out of memories of a beat-up little apartment with sunlight streaming in through the windows. “Got yourself a girl waiting for you back home?”

There’s an answer on the tip of his tongue, one that he’ll deliver with a cocky grin and a half-laugh and a little shake of his head. But Bucky is exhausted and hungry and so sore it hurts to move, and one of the guys in their platoon fucking died yesterday. His mouth tastes like iodine water and his feet hurt and none of it’s going to get better any time soon, and all at once Bucky misses Steve so badly he can barely see straight.

“Yeah,” Bucky declares abruptly, the word escaping from his mouth before he fully realizes what he’s saying. “Yeah, I do.”

you might be what i want, but you’re not what i need (ao3) - krystalpomme T, 30k

Summary: tony invites peter to meet pepper’s family in california. peter is ecstatic at the thought of having a set of grandparents, but they aren’t too keen on having a grandchild that isn’t biologically theirs. morgan is spoiled, peter gets left out, and tony is caught in the middle of trying to prove himself to his in-laws or standing up for his son.

With newfound reluctance, he took Tony’s hand, preparing himself to be ignored for the rest of the trip.

That is—until Pepper’s mom turned around, looking Peter up and down before giving him a obviously fake smile,

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

young and full of running (ao3) - sharoncarters T, 5k

Summary: In which Sharon Carter and Bobbi Morse graduate from SHIELD Academy, search for the greatest burger in the country, learn how (not) to gamble, and live the American dream, among other things.

your braids like a pattern (love you to the moon & to saturn) (ao3) - archers_and_spies clint/natasha T, 17k

Summary: Natasha Romanoff meets Clint Barton in a salon in Iowa. He teaches her what trust means and she keeps coming back.

You're a Different Kind of Danger in the Daylight (ao3) - Siria bruce/natasha T, 7k

Summary: Poor little spider.

You’re Tuggin On Me (ao3) - MarvelsAssbutts sam/bucky M, 6k

Summary: Bucky manages to hide his feelings for Sam pretty well. Has been doing it for months with little to no problem or fantasy. Then Sam puts his hands in Bucky’s hair.

Your Faith Around My Neck (ao3) - Jo (jmathieson) clint/phil E, 72k

Summary: The collaring of Clint Barton.

Your Highness (ao3) - the_irish_mayhem jane/thor E, 6k

Summary: Jane wants something in bed and Thor is more than happy to oblige.

For the first day of Fosterson Week, post-TDW.

Your Latest Trick (ao3) - ChortlesOfDoom loki/tony, pepper/tony E, 273k

Summary: Following a violent, masterfully feigned death aboard the Statesman, Thor believes Loki's gone for good; more importantly, so does Thanos. Exhausted and hungry for revenge, Loki returns to Earth, but as he bides his strength, anonymously supplying the Avengers with inside knowledge between his own preparations, he begins to see the true cost of holding on.

your light guides me home (to you) (ao3) - bisexualbarry steve/tony M, 15k

Summary: Steve struggled with living for a long time. Even after escaping the New York Quarantine Zone, he doesn’t really know how to live.

Until he met Tony.

you should know me better than that (ao3) - napricot sam/bucky E, 32k

Summary: Sam and Bucky may be partners now, but they still have a lot of getting to know each other to do. For Sam, letting Bucky get to know him is proving to be a more difficult prospect than expected. At least, it is until an exposure to truth serum leads to some revelations about his and Bucky's relationship.

You've got a friend in me (ao3) - boleyn13 loki/tony, clint/natasha, pepper/tony M, 412k

Summary: After faking his death in the Dark World Loki is free to do what he wants. Instead of leaving everything behind Loki is driven by his thirst for revenge and won't find peace before he destroyed every single one of the Avengers. This time though he won't use violence, but the weapons of the God of Mischief: trickery, deceit and illusion. Loki decides to befriend the Avengers. However they won't know it's him. Not until he is close enough to strike. Unfortunately Loki didn't consider the possibility that he might get too close.

you were an army officer, and i just a rockette (ao3) - bisamwilson sam/bucky E, 11k

Summary: Bucky buys a USO uniform, and Sam learns there are merits to being late.

10/31/21: Sam gets a turn with the uniform.

10/30/22: Sam comes home to another surprise.

[lizzie-is-here]

international women’s day + the avengers

summary: in honor of international women’s’ day and women’s history month.

wordcount: 500

warnings: violence, brief mentions of: oppression, rape, catcalling, harassment, libel, human trafficking, red room procedures

• in honor of international women’s day i present: more headcanons in a fixed mcu because marvel is my only interest

• so with all of the stuff going on in the world with women’s rights (pink tax, slut-shaming, rape, body shaming, etc.), i’d like to think that the team would speak out on it.

• if you attend marches or protests, you’d better bet they’d come to, especially if it’s one that’s being heavily policed.

• the idea of superheroes standing between protesters and police as a line of defense is such a powerful image.

• the idea that the avengers have always stood for the world, not the governments that lead it.

• steve’s been a gentleman since forever, and you bet sarah rogers raised that boy to respect everyone around him.

• not to mention she probably gave bucky the same lessons as well.

• both of them being irritated by the catcalling and harassment that’s so prominent in new york.

• there’s multiple articles of different team members having beat up someone for street harassment or similar actions.

• tony may have been less of a girlboss in his playboy days, but in current mcu with pepper and morgan, he’s right there with you.

• him donating ludicrous amounts of money to organizations supporting change, or helping you make one of your own if he can’t find one to his standards.

• you, nat, and wanda doing dozens of interviews as the earth-based female avengers.

• adding on more after the events of endgame.

• on any missions involving human trafficking, young girls or otherwise, the team gets twice as ruthless. sometimes you don’t recognize the people on the field next to you.

• many of you know what it’s like to feel powerless, and want to save as many as possible from that feeling.

• hosting a massive event at stark tower with female speakers.

• nat and yelena speaking on the red room’s manipulation and abuse of girls and the forced hysterectomies.

• sharon, carol, and monica talking about the constant undermining of their abilities in the military.

• helen cho, darcy, and shuri representing female scientists of their fields.

• pepper speaking on running stark industries.

• wakandans proposing ideas and customs of their country.

• peter parker would already be quick to stop harassment and assault as spider-man, but he may risk punching a guy with full force in his civilian clothing.

• teaching the aliens about earth issues.

• they’re horrified ngl.

• discussing how other planets and civilizations treat marginalized groups. some are worse and some are better, some are completely different.

• if you do interviews on your own speaking out, the team will be there to support you. no one really wants to send backlash to an avenger.

• netflix maybe coming to you to film a documentary for women’s history month revolving around the female avengers👀

• if fox (🤮) tries anything steve’s gonna go throw hands. he’s been patient this long but they’re slandering him and his friends and he’s 110% done.

• on a serious note, educating yourself about problems of other groups is a great thing to do. seeing all perspectives is such a great thing that everyone should work on.

• please stay safe and help make the world a better place for everyone. we are the generation of change.

a/n: i wrote this kind of last minute, but i hope u enjoy. this is a safe space for all women/fem-identifying friends. stay safe babes <3

[gubler-me-up]

No Need to Rush

Request: can u pls do a spencer x bau fem! reader where she’s dyslexic but also a genius like spencer and like someone maybe another member of the team/unsub makes a comment abt her being stupid. and she gets really upset abt it. then later spencer comforts her and they have really romantic but rough sex. where he’s just like reassuring her of how smart and beautiful she is.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Sorry this took a lil long to complete but I wanted to make sure I wrote this accurately and incorporate everything you wanted into it! Please let me know if you don’t feel as if this representation of dyslexia sits right with you and I will edit it no problem. This fic also concludes smut week (woo!) so I hope you enjoy 💓 

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Smut

Content warning: Learning disorder degradation, mentions of violence, rough sex, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, choking

Word count: 3.2k

-------------

It was the dead of winter in Seattle, Washington and a sniper decided it was the best time to have some target practice. His target practice ended up taking three innocent people’s lives as they were living their day-to-day lives. To top off his killing spree, he wrote handwritten letters to the police department. His letters were rambles about him not stopping until he finds his final target.

Hotch had left Spencer and you to go over the letters to try and figure out any indications of who his final target could be. He had sent JJ and Morgan to interview the victim’s family members to try and see if there were any similar people in their circle. Having you four working diligently on piecing the entire story together could end up saving another person from meeting an early demise.

You loved working with Spencer because the two of you were always up to speed with your thinking process. Both of you analyzed each letter with care, making sure nothing was missed which could possibly be used as a clue in identifying who this person and who their real target is.

You felt as if you were taking too long to go through every letter. There were about 20 of them and his incoherent rambles were giving you a hard time efficiently reading them. You had 10 to go through and Spencer was already finished and writing on the whiteboard clues he found in the letters. You were still on your seventh letter, dissecting and writing down what you thought was important. You couldn’t help feeling bad you were taking a long time.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Spencer looked back at you with a questionable expression. “For what?”

“For taking forever. I’m taking up time reading these letters when I should be brainstorming with you.”

“Y/N, you’re not slowing down the process. If anything you taking your time can identify some major evidence.”

“Yeah, but you could do it within two minutes.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Valuable information is valuable information no matter how long it takes you to find it. Besides you’re the smartest person I know, so nothing will get past you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“I’m here to remind you it’s all the time. I’ll be here to remind you every day if you ever doubt yourself.”

You smiled as you felt your worries drifting away. You were always self-conscious about having dyslexia. Growing up with it was the hardest part of your early years because people would see your extraordinary capabilities but questioned them whenever you had to read or spending longer than usual completing tasks. It was embarrassing for you. Even in adulthood you felt anxious about letting people know you were dyslexic because you were worried they wouldn’t see you as a genius.

When you let the members of the team know you were dyslexic, they accepted you as you were. It made you feel welcomed and understood for once in the longest while. It was especially nice hearing Spencer say you were a genius regardless of your dyslexia. You felt as if he understood you the most out of everyone because he had a rough time growing up as a child prodigy.

As you continued to read through the letter you were on, something caught your eye. You looked up at the whiteboard to see what Spencer had written. He had written about sunsets, trees and a park. He had concluded it was about Kerry Park in Seattle and speculated the unsub could possibly live near there. What you had read though made you think of a different possibility.

“Kelly Park,” you said aloud.

Spencer turned to you. “Kelly Park?”

Before you could explain your findings, Hotch and detective Royce entered the room. You were happy they did, so you could explain to everyone your theory as to who the unsays actual target is.

“Find any useful information we can put towards finding the unsub?” Hotch asked.

You nodded. “Yes. Kelly Park’s the end goal.”

“Kelly Park? You mean Kerry Park by West Highland,” detective Royce said.

“No, I mean, yes, but the unsub slipped up…uh no, they-uh- replaced Kelly with Kerry because there is a Kelly Park who lives nearby,” you explained.

“Wait, so is it Kerry or Kelly the name of the person who lives nearby Kerry’s Park?” Hotch asked.

“Sorry, sir. It’s Kelly Park who lives nearby Kerry’s Park.”

“How can you even speculate that?” Detective Royce asked.

“Because it’s in this letter. He says, ‘I spend my days looking at Kelly Park and wondering when I’d be brave enough to leave. I don’t think I am but one day I’ll be free,’” you said while holding it up.

Detective Royce took it from your hand to take a closer look. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read. He looked back up at you questionably.

“Maybe he’s dyslexic. Only an idiot would write Kelly instead of Kerry when referring to Kerry Park,” he said.

You clenched your jaw as he said his ignorant statement. You knew the unsub wasn’t dyslexic and you had a clue right infant of you. You snatched the letter away from his hands as you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

“I’m actually dyslexic myself and I can tell you right now this unsub is not,” you said.

“I should have known from the time you mixed up Kerry and Kelly in your explanation. For a genius you sure don’t talk like one,” he said.

You felt your eyes stinging from the tears which were trying to breakthrough. What he said was familiar to everything you heard from your childhood. It was degrading to hear it when you knew you were on to something. Especially evidence which could potentially save someone.

“Don’t talk to one of my agents with such disrespect, Royce. My team and I would never slander your team, so we expect the same courtesy back,” Hotch said.

“Hotchner, you can’t seriously believe this is a connection,” detective Royce said.

“Who said it couldn’t be?” Spencer said.

“Common sense. He’s trying to mess up his words on purpose to take us off track from what really matters,” detective Royce said.

“Well, I’m not taking that risk. While you stand there with your arro…ignorance, I’ll actually go and do something about this piece of evidence,” you said as you walked by him to exit the room.

You could feel your heart drop with every step you took. Before you called Garcia you took a trip to the washroom. You went into a stall and made sure it was locked before you let your tears escape. You hadn’t felt humiliated for the longest time. The questionable look and harsh comments detective Royce spat at you made you feel sick. You knew you were smart and you knew you were onto evidence to save someone’s life. Yet you were doubted.

You wiped your tears away and took a few deep breaths before exiting the stall. You couldn’t let what he said distract you from finding Kelly Royce. You knew it would affect you for the rest of the day but you would sleep better at night knowing you saved a life. You didn’t want to be crying over two things tonight.

------

You sat on the edge of the hotel room bed. You had finished getting ready for the night and were ready to get into bed to forget about the day. You were happy you were right about Kelly Park and saved her hours before she was scheduled to go into the heart of Seattle for an appointment. Her ex-boyfriend, Michael Richards, had plotted for months on how to make her death look like an accident. Too bad his guilty conscience and ego didn’t mix well and he compulsively wrote down his thoughts.

It bothered you immensely detective Royce still didn’t give you your flowers at the end of everything. You understood not everyone would apologize for their ignorance and you should be used to it by now. However, you couldn’t help but think about it over and over.

You heard a few light knocks on your hotel room door. You looked at the clock. It was 11 p.m. You got up to go peek through the peephole to see who was trying to get your attention this time of night. You looked through the peephole and saw Spencer standing outside. You opened the door. As you opened it he looked at you with a smile but you could see the concern in his eyes.

“What brings you to this part of town so late?” You asked.

“I want to make sure you’re okay before you go to bed. I know how frustrating today was for you and I don’t want you going to bed with doubt on your mind,” he explained.

You stepped aside and gestured him to come inside your hotel room. You were happy he had stopped by. He was always the first one to give you words of encouragement and a reason to put your doubts aside. You closed the door and made your way over to the edge of the bed to sit. You patted the spot next to you for him to sit down. He took the seat next to you, sitting closer to you than expected. You two were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. It was comforting to you for him to be so close.

“You know, if it wasn’t for you pointing out Kelly Park in his letter, she might not be alive,” he said.

“I know and I’m glad it worked out in the end. I just…”

You trailed off as a wave of doubt overthrew your thought process. You started to think if you had been wrong, if it were just your dyslexia getting the best of you, an innocent life could have been taken. A tear slipped from your right eye. You quickly wiped it away before Spencer saw. He must have seen it escape because he placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed it.

“You have a beautiful mind, Y/N,” he assured you.

“It doesn’t translate properly when I say the wrong words, read slower than average, mix up-”

“And all that doesn’t make a difference to how you save lives every day. If detective Royce wasn’t so prideful he would have thanked you properly for bringing to light what they brushed off,” he said.

You chuckled. “Yeah, he is a prideful idiot.”

“Exactly, so don’t let him or other doubters get to you. I believe in you wholeheartedly and always will. The team does as well, so we’ll always back you up.”

You smiled brightly at him as you felt your deep sadness fade away. He had such a way with words you felt as if you could rule the world solely based on his encouragement. You opened up your arms and embraced him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around the small of your back. He rubbed your back gently as you placed your head comfortably in the crook of his neck.

“I love how you’re always here for me, Spence,” you whispered into his neck.

“I’ll always be here to remind you of your worth and beauty,” he said.

You leaned up from his neck and faced him straight on. Your faces were just an inch away from each other as you lost yourself in his eyes. You softly smiled and found yourself saying things before your brain could process them.

“I could just kiss you right now,” you blurted out.

“Why don’t you?” He asked.

You were now speechless as you weren’t expecting him to be open to the idea. Perhaps he did find more than just your mind to be beautiful. One of his hands moved from your back and found its way to the side of your face. He moved your face closer to his and your lips finally met each other. He gently eased his tongue into your mouth before he dived fully into your mouth.

You placed your hands on his chest. You pulled on his shirt to bring him forward even more to minimize the space between you two. He moved his hands and placed them both on your hip. He brought you onto his lap without breaking your kiss. You glued your hands to his face to prevent him from even considering moving away from you. His hands squeezed before slipping his hands down your pyjama pants.

You didn’t give it a second thought and raised yourself off his hips so he could pull your pants off along with your underwear. He leaned away from your lips as he stared at you with a deep yearning in his eyes. He caressed his hands up your thighs, to your hips and then under your shirt. He pulled your shirt off to reveal your bare breasts.

“I hope you like what you see,” you said.

He smiled. “Of course. You’re beautiful beyond words.”

He then placed your right nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around your nipple. You moaned loudly as his tongue made your nipple feel a stimulation you never thought they could feel. He freed your nipple from his mouth as he quietly hushed you.

“We can’t let anyone know where in the same room together,” he whispered.

“I don’t care,” you said as you desperately leaned into him to steal another kiss.

He kissed you back. You held his head in place so he wouldn’t dare move away from you again. You soon felt his thumb circling around your clit. It wasn’t enough to make you stop kissing him but it made you release endless moans into his mouth. You then felt him shove two fingers into you which made you stop kissing him and set your moans free into the atmosphere. He pumped his fingers in and out of you so quickly you couldn’t find the time to catch your breath.

“If you can’t handle my fingers, how do you expect to handle my dick, beautiful?” He asked.

“I…I can,” you stammered.

He smiled. “I haven’t doubted you yet, have I??”

He took his fingers out of you and went to work on undoing his pants. You stared down at his huge bulge as he slipped down his pants and then his underwear. Your eyes widened as you saw his dick. He looked at you to see the amazement in your eyes. He softly chuckled as he grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight as he brought you forward to position you.

“Sit down on it and try not to be too loud,” he demanded.

You did what he asked and lowered yourself onto his dick. The further you went beyond the tip the more your mouth went agape. You could barely even get to the base without feeling as if his dick was already completely inside of you. He did you the favour and forced you all the way down on his dick. You let out a shriek which was cut short by him sticking his two fingers coated in your juices inside your mouth.

“Bounce on it and don’t make a sound. Understand?” He asked.

He nodded your head ‘yes’ for you and you started bouncing on his dick. You could feel your legs quaking as you engulfed his dick in and out of your repeatedly. Once you established a rhythm, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and enjoyed every inch of his dick stretching your walls.

“How about we pick up the pace?” He asked.

Your eyes shot open as he bucked his hips up and disrupted your rhythm with his new set motion. You moaned heavily around his fingers as his dick kept ramming into you with no mercy. He used his other hand and squeezed your left breast. He licked your breasts before gently biting your nipple.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“I only ever treat extraordinary women like this,” he said.

“Really?” You moaned.

He lifted you off his dick and laid you on the bed. He gently wrapped his large hands around your throat as he positioned himself on top of you. You could feel your adrenaline pumping as he lowered his face down to yours and kissed you softly on your lips before he stared into your eyes.

“You’re the only extraordinary woman I know,” he said.

“Fuck me like an extraordinary woman,” you said.

He obliged and rammed his dick into you with urgency. You moaned repeatedly as you took in every inch of his dick inside of you. He kissed along your jawline before reaching your ear.

“Who gets fucked like this?” He asked.

“Extraordinary women,” you whimpered.

“And what are you?” He asked.

“An extraordinary woman,” you whimpered.

As he continued to fuck some sense into you, he whispered nothing but the sweetest things in your ear. He called you beautiful, brilliant, amazing and his favourite, extraordinary. It felt nice hearing those things being repeated over and over in your ear especially by him. His dick definitely enforced the message as with every word he said to you, his motion would intensify. You wrapped your legs around him as he continued to fuck you.

“Where do you want me to cum, beautiful?” He asked.

“Inside of me,” you moaned.

He tightened the grip around your neck. “Louder.”

“Inside of me,” you shrieked.

“Look at me while I cum inside of you,” he demanded.

He grabbed your face to keep you still so your eyes were focused on him the whole time. He bit his bottom lip as he stared at your worn-out expression as he fucked you. He slowly stopped going at his rapid pace and soon stopped. You felt his cum fill your insides and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.

He let go of your neck and eased up from on top of you. You felt him stick two fingers in you and he pulled them out quickly. He placed his cum covered fingers on your lips. You opened your mouth and licked the cum dripping off his fingers.

“I don’t ever want you to doubt yourself again. You’re fucking amazing,” he said.

You leaned up on your elbows and smiled. “You are too.”

“Since I can’t stay in your room for the night without raising suspicions in the morning, how about we do something when we get back home and you can stay the night at my place? You know, for extra reassurance,” he said with a smile.

You giggled. “I’d love that.”

He leaned into you and gave you another big kiss on the lips. As he parted from your lips he stared at you with softer eyes from before and brushed your hair back.

“Maybe I’ll stay for a few more minutes. You like cuddles?” He asked.

“I love them,” you said.

He chuckled. “Great because I have a deep desire to cuddle you and make you know you’re treasured.”

You could have cried when he said that. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips. It wasn’t the best time to cry. You wanted to cherish the moment as a positive part of the day.

“Thank you, Spence. You’re extraordinary.”

“I guess that makes us a perfect match.”

“It sure does.”

—–

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection​, @slutforthegubes​, @pinkdiamond1016​, @spencerreidsthings​, @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​, @slutforsr​ @bxtchboy69​, @fallinallinmendes​

MASTERLIST

[funkwhistle]

I cared

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff at end

Summary: After you hadn’t seen him for years, a very familiar face appears in the saloon. A face you weren’t hoping to see any time soon. And there’s a little bit of Micah slander oops

The room moved around you: the blur of the evening crowd in the saloon; groups of rowdy men chinking glasses; the tinkle of jazz piano; and him.

He stood, framed by the evening light, in the doorway; his hat on its classic angle, throwing shade over the face you knew to be riddled with tiredness. And yet you didn't move from your spot by the bar, opting to pour another drink for the customer who was hollering at you. The noise of the saloon was too loud, the colours too bright, everything was wrong - he wasn't supposed to be here, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Gritting your teeth, you squeezed away the tears which threatened to fall, swallowing heavily and sliding a shot to the man on the bar. You didn't dare look up, but you could hear him approaching, his boots tapping a familiar rhythm onto the floorboards. A rhythm which reminded you of the fonder memories with him, how he'd always visit you at work when he was in town, and his little gifts of things he'd acquired on his travels. You still had one of the egret feathers he'd given you on his last visit.

The footsteps stopped by a table, allowing your heartbeat a second to recuperate itself before you were forced to look up to check for more customers. Scanning the room, your eyes skirted past his figure without taking in his expression, yet you could tell his attention was focussed on you. This was only confirmed by his footsteps loudening as he moved towards the bar. You busied yourself polishing some glasses vigorously,desperately attempting to avert your eye from his gaze.

“If you polish that glass any more I think I'd be able to see my reflection in it,” And he had reached the bar. You shrugged, ignoring his comment and not taking your eyes off the perfectly shiny glass you were polishing. Swapping glasses, you decided you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of playing his puppet again. He still hadn't moved, and you became more aware of your surroundings, how there were customers hollering for more drinks, and how a fight had broken out outside.

“Look at me darlin,” he said, softer now than before, using the same voice he's lulled you in with before, the voice of a man who spun you into a web of lies, the voice which would whisper in your ear as you fell asleep in his arms.

“Please?”

You looked up, not because you had any desire to lay your eyes on that man again, but because of what he'd said. He never said please, not for anyone, not for anything; as though the word was foreign to him. He'd anticipated this, his head cocked knowingly and a smirk crept its way across his face, infuriating you at his conceited manner. Reaching his hand out to touch yours, you pulled back suddenly, as though his unwanted touch had scalded you.

“I'm on break, sorry,” you said quickly, dropping the cloth you'd been using on the bar and rushing out back, where he couldn't see you, even though there were still impatient customers hankering for another drink. Maybe Jed would cover for you for a while.

“Need me to serve for a while?” it wasn't Jed who offered, rather Annie, but you nodded gratefully nevertheless, moving so you could stand outside for a breath of fresh air. Annie patted you on the shoulder as you walked through the maze of staff corridors to find the back exit before leaning on the doorframe and taking in the evening light.

The sun had settled behind the thick forest on the horizon, the town bathed in the cool night. Glancing to your right, you saw the train pulling out of the station, full of passengers escaping the conflict thi town brought with it; you'd give anything to be gone from here again. People waved a friendly greeting as they passed you, recognizing you from the saloon, but they had the freedom to leave whenever they wanted.

The both of you had met while you were working in Strawberry; the place you regarded most as your home, that was where you had grown up after you'd moved from the South. You had been serving drinks in the bar in the Trackers hotel until you met him, who had convinced you to come and find adventure in the West with him. He'd found you a job here, in Rhodes, so that he'd always be close-by; he'd visit you frequently, sometimes sitting at the bar just to watch you work.

You remembered when he'd taken you down to the water, and how the pair of you had stood, knee deep in the cold water, and discussed your lives - his life of hiding from the law and your more mundane one.

Then that day came, when he said that the pair of you couldn't continue what you had, that one of the people he ran with said there was a rat, and he had believed you to be it. Yes, he'd told you his gang's confidential plans, and secrets about heists not to be passed on, but the fact he believed you'd so willingly betray him and tell the law about it hurt; it hurt a lot more than you'd cared to admit.

The only other thing you'd remembered from that night is that he'd left like an unlit human torch, covered in the alcohol you'd thrown at him. In some ways, you were waiting to watch him go up in a tower of flames, but the other half of you wanted him to still pull you close and tell you how much you meant to him.

Even though you had grown to resent the thought of him, you still slightly expected you to come back over the following days, or maybe weeks. But then days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and it was still silence from the cowboy. It was approaching six months now, and yet you felt as though you'd be without him for years, the cuts he'd left in your heart had healed themselves - or so you'd thought.

You shivered a little as the night settled itself into the edges of town, there were fewer people out now as the shops shut, interior lighting being extinguished one by one and plunging the town into a moonlight darkness. Regretting you hadn't brought your coat, you tapped your foot on the floor, in a futile attempt to get the blood moving around you and you rubbed your arms to rid them of goosebumps.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with warming yourself you nearly didn't hear the sound of his footsteps behind you again, until you could feel his warmth, and the smell you'd grown to resent - the smell of trees, and horse hair, and smoke.

“Look,” he started, and you could sense him moving behind you but you didn't turn to face him. It wasn't until you felt his coat on your shoulders you'd realised he'd given you his coat because you were cold, and instead of pushing it off you, the small part of you which wanted to forgive him pulled it closer around you. It was the last memory you needed for the tears to start, wetting your face with silent agony.

He moved closer behind you, so your back was pressed against his chest as he rested his chin atop your head. And you still didn't pull away, the fond memories of the pair of playing in your mind, overriding every reason you had to distance yourself from this man.

“Look darlin, I'm sorry about what I did,” you scoffed a little, was that why he'd accused you of being a mole in front of the saloon that evening? However he didn't acknowledge this, breathing in deeply and collecting his thoughts before he continued.

“And I'm real sorry I ain't come to see ya,” This made you turn around, so you could face him and he could see the tears which were drying on your cheeks. Gently, he moved to wipe one away, but you flinched from him, and he moved back from you, almost in fear of what you were to do next.

“I wasn't sure you cared to see me, I got stranded on one of thos-” That was the last straw for you, having had enough of his half-hearted apologies you finally snapped, glaring daggers into him.

“I don't care where you were Mr Morgan, I don't care if you went to goddamned Timbuktu. I don't care to hear your excuses;  I cared because you called me a rat. I cared because you thought I'd betray you, even after everything we'd done together. I cared because you took me from my friends in Strawberry so I could be with you. Hell - you made me believe we had something between us. Of course I care Arthur, don't you dare say I didn't,” You had started to cry again, but this time in happiness; he'd got what was coming for him, and he deserved everything you'd just said to him and more. He stood there, looking shocked at your outburst, but you didn't let him get a word in continuing angrily; “And now I'm stuck in this dying town run by egotistical maniacs, crying over a man who thinks so little of me that he accused me of trying to get him killed.”

You moved to walk past him, but he grabbed your shoulders, not allowing you to leave as he looked down at you. As you stood there, your heart was pounding in your throat, not allowing you to speak as you stood, frozen in his grasp. Hesitantly, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, you didn't move, unsure if you'd fall back into his arms or slap him. Either option seemed good to you at this moment, but he didn't allow you to do either, as he pulled away from you to see you clearly.

“Darlin, I didn't want to believe that liar, hell, I was so convinced by that… that- Micah you were the rat, and you'd been selling the secrets. And I felt goddamned awful that I'd been betraying the gang and you, and I'm sorry; I felt like a bleedin idiot I'd let him speak sense to me,” His eyes desperately sought yours for a sense of conformation, but you were firmly looking over his shoulder, knowing if you looked into his pleading expression you'd forgive him.

“And I didn't come see ya cause I was stuck on one of them islands off shore and you know me, I hate swimming in the sea, and I wasn't gonna swim miles to be killed-” 

“Shut up and come here,” you interrupted him, he'd said enough that you cared to listen to. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, unable to read your expression; tears drying on your cheeks and a glint in your eye. You glanced up at him quickly, taking in his face which, now you were closer, bore evidence of his exile, and new scars littered his cheek, his beard growing out scruffily. 

Neither had any longer to study the changes time had made to the others face, as you'd moved so your lips lightly grazed his, missing the comfort they'd provided for you for years. Arthur hummed happily at your response, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer, smiling into the kiss. Before you could go any further, you pulled away slightly, resting your forehead on his as you whispered;

“I love you an awful lot, y'remember that Arthur,” 

He pulled you in for another kiss, mumbling he loved you against your lips as he did so. For now, you were happy here.

A/N: I started writing this for Miach, but that didn’t turn out that way? You never know, maybe I’ll write something for that kid one day.

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul

Tryna break into the wlw Marvel tumblr fic world; consider this grief-ridden multi-chapter fic my resume ;)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief, Angst, Romance

Summary: You thought you were used to the struggle. Between growing up as an orphan in Oakland before elbowing your way through the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D., you were sure nothing could faze you.

But then you lose the love of your life and for the first time ever, you’re not sure how to move forward.

Notes: In this world, Peter Parker survived the Snap and S.H.I.E.L.D. still exists, just underground. Also features an OC with pyrokinetic abilities who’s the Reader’s best friend.

Chapter One - Hope

Word Count: 3,666

Warnings: Cursing, Allusions to Sex, Very Slight Ant-Man Slander, but Out of Love

In a lot of ways, the past five years had been quiet.

You’d grown up in Oakland, gone to college in Washington D.C., then lived and worked in New York ever since. You didn’t like quiet.

The biggest cities had lost their bustle, and it was one of the many reasons why you resented Thanos.

That and for taking the little bit of family you’d ever had. And the two men who were the closest things you had had to living brothers. And your absolute best friend in the world.

You coped in the way you always had - through work and through perspective. With Agents Fury and Hill gone in the snap, along with half of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been underground after its public fall, you had moved through the ranks overnight (and you had been pretty high up there to begin with), taking over a great bulk of the remaining operations of the covert agency. Those first couple of years, you were in D.C. during the week days, watching as a fractured government slowly tried to repair itself while dispatching any leftover agents to take care of the chaos that had arisen in the aftermath. You’d go home to a pathetic one-bedroom apartment in the city most nights, it often being too late to commute to where you really wanted to be, get a few hours of sleep, then do it all over again.

It was all right. Kept you distracted. Made you feel purposeful.

It was the weekends, though, you found your truest solace. You’d put off all your responsibilities except in case of an emergency, take a quinjet up north to the Avengers compound, spend Saturday and Sunday with the woman you loved. Most of the time, you’d have the entire compound to yourselves. Maybe you didn’t like the quiet, but you loved it when it was quiet when you were with her.

After a few years, though, there was less for everyone to do as slowly, society started to move on. It was a blessing, you supposed, though sometimes it felt like a curse. You had never done well with idle hands.

It was slow enough that you could work remotely, at least, leaving your little D.C. apartment behind to take up permanent residence in upstate New York, except for emergencies. Natasha’s bedroom became y’all’s bedroom. You started to see just how broken she was, felt like a terrible partner for not realizing it sooner. She’d been able to mask it well when she’d only see you on weekends and through holograms. Now that you were together all the time, her walls couldn’t stay up for long.

Like the Avengers always had, she kept the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Far be it from you to convince her that she didn’t need to do that, but you at least wanted her to know that she could share that burden with you. To get her to realize that became your greatest mission.

And you never failed missions.

By the time you reached the five year mark, the two of you had fallen into the sort of routine you could see yourselves doing for the rest of your lives, if this really had to be the rest of your lives (you think both of you, deep down, had hope that it wasn’t, that something more could be done, which is why you two had tried your hardest to not stop working ever since half of the world disappeared before your eyes). Together you both kept watch over a broken world - Natasha by keeping in touch with the remaining Avengers and your new friends from space as you continued to run S.H.I.E.L.D. from the compound. Occasionally you’d go out for an actual mission, finding that you got cabin fever if you stayed put too long.

Natasha would never come with you, though. She was waiting for the right one, she told you. But you think she was just scared of what would happened if she took her eyes away from the world for even just one second. She’d let you carry a little bit of that weight with her, finally, but far from it all.

She was completely open with you, though, for the first time in the seven years you’d been together (dating a former assassin came with a huge set of emotional intimacy issues, but there was no one else you’d rather work through that with). And when you two realized that wow, you’d been together for seven years, you decided that you all could use a bright spot in this darker world.

So you had a bittersweet wedding. Peter Parker was your “man of honor”, Steve Rogers was hers. Tony presided at his beautiful cabin home with his daughter Morgan as the flower girl and Rocket - much to his outward chagrin though you suspected he secretly loved it - was your ring bearer with the vibranium wedding bands that Okoye had brought for you from Wakanda. You’d even gotten Thor out of his desolate mancave on New Asgard for the night, with the promise of all the beer he could drink.

It was hard not to think of all the people who should’ve been celebrating with you, but you’d at least found the burst of happiness that you could. Moments like that reminded you two that you still had to keep fighting, even if you didn’t quite know what for all the time.

About a month later, you left for a quick mission. You were gone for three days and came back to a bustle unlike any you’d seen at the Compound in years. There was a space ship parked out front, but more surprising was the sight of Tony’s Audi convertible.

Nat’s eyes looked the brightest you’d seen them in awhile, all pretenses shattered as she greeted you with an excited smile that was surprisingly adorable.

“So this is what you do when I’m gone?” You teased, wrapping your arms around her distractedly as you took in the energy around you. God, you had missed this sort of noise. “Throw parties?”

“You caught me,” she gave back, eyes twinkling before she wrapped her arms around you tightly, but in a way that didn’t feel desperate. It reminded you of how she’d hugged you throughout your wedding day. You let yourself fall completely into her embrace, burying your face into her neck and inhaling deeply. It had only been a few days, but you’d missed her so much. How you used to spend all week without her, you had no idea. “I think we found a way to reverse the snap.”

You yanked your head up so quickly that you almost gave yourself whiplash, playfully glaring when Natasha laughed. Her eyes were so warm with hope, though, that that was soon all you could focus on.

“What?!”

She nodded excitedly, squeezing your hips. Your mind immediately started reeling, unable to keep from imagining what this meant, who you’d be able to see again.

“How?!”

Natasha’s lips curled up into a little smirk, eyes still twinkling.

“Time travel.”

Wait.

“What?!”

-----

The compound was chaotic in the wonderful way that you cherished. Thor’s booming voice and Tony’s wisecracks and Steve’s voice of reason and Rhodey’s deadpan and Bruce’s reverberating Hulk-heavy footsteps and Rocket’s quips and Clint’s snark and Natasha’s sarcasm and laugh and sass and just everything about her that had been buried beneath the rubble of the last five years, coming out now more than in just moments. None of you slept as you all plotted, planned, built; a certain energizing spark taking over all of you in this renewed sense of purpose.

There was only enough of these “Pym particles” for ten people to do this time heist, though, which meant you were the odd one out.

“Maybe when you get powers, we’ll reconsider it,” Tony quipped when you complained, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

“I could beat you up if you didn’t have that suit,” you gave back, smirking.

“She could,” Natasha echoed before he could get a word in, shooting you a grin as she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Tony dramatically clutched at his chest.

“I’m offended you don’t think I’m more than my suit, Romanoff.” He paused. “Or is it (Y/L/N) now? Romanoff-(Y/L/N)?”

“Natasha and (Y/N) Widow, actually,” you joked, grinning as a laugh rippled through the Avengers. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t take Pepper’s last name, Tony. We all know she’s really the one running the show.”

You gave him your most dastardly grin as Rocket gave you a fist bump, Thor - perpetually buzzed - howled and Scott and Steve exchanged amused looks.

“See, this is why you’re not coming with us,” Tony said, pointing at you though he couldn’t quite hide his hint of a grin. “Today’s youth, so disrespectful!”

You let that go. You were in your 30s, but Tony always had a hard time not seeing you as that 22 year old first-year S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit he’d met over a decade ago.

So you chuckled, turning in Natasha’s arms in time to catch her fondly rolling her eyes.

“I will say, I’m gonna miss this banter on our mission.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, as hers moved to your shoulder pulling her closer to you.

“Let me come with you and we won’t have to miss nothin���,” you said lowly, smirking at the way she eyed you.

“You know there’s no one I’d rather by my side,” she admitted softly, letting her fingers massage the back of your neck. You hummed pleasantly, letting your eyes flutter shut as your forehead fell against hers, “But I also like the idea of you here, safe.”

You sighed, not meaning for your breath to hit her lips, but enjoying the feel of her tensing against you nonetheless.

“I might not be a super solider or some guy with …ant powers…” you grinned when Natasha chuckled, “but I can hold my own, Nat.”

“I know you can,” she murmured. “But I’d rather know I’m coming back to you than be worried about you out there.”

You opened your eyes, found them staring into earnest and soft green irises. You could see how important this was for her, doing something that felt tangible after spending so much time and energy over the years to keep the world going, never losing hope even when no one else believed.

This mission would always mean more to her than it ever would for you.

So you nodded, craning your head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“Get a room, why don’t ya!”

“Shut up, Rocket.”

Hours before they were set to leave back in time, you got a call from Peter Parker saying he desperately needed you to pick him up as soon as possible from Central America, which was strange because the last time you’d checked, you’d sent him on an undercover mission to check out some disturbances in Europe (as the only Avenger whose true identity was still secret, he was most ideal to send on these sorts of things).

It did sound urgent, though, so you quickly headed to your room to change into something more extraction appropriate, unsurprised to hear the door open a few minutes later.

“Oh good,” Natasha’s voice purred playfully behind you as you pulled off the shirt you’d been lounging in. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you got all your mission clothes on.”

You chuckled as you turned to face her, then faltered. Though there was a coy smirk playing at her plump lips, her eyes told an entirely different story. You motioned for her to come closer, trying to keep the spirit high.

“Quickie before I leave?” You joked, sitting back on the bed as she came to stand in between your legs. She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes as they flickered over you before she gently placed her palm on your cheek.

“Will you be back before we go?” She asked softly.

You shook my head, your frowns matching.

“Even if it is just a pick-up and go, the round trip will take four hours.”

“I’ll see if we can wait on you.”

As much as you wanted that, you found yourself shaking your head again.

“I don’t want anything to throw y’all off,” you told her, covering the hand on your face with your own. “This is too important.”

She nodded; if there was anything you both understood, it was that some things were more important than the two of you. The fate of the world was definitely one of those things, and all the lives that hung in balance. It’s what made you heroes, before anything else.

It’s also what made you and Natasha fit together so well. You understood each other in ways that no one else could.

“I’ll see you when you get back, though,” you assured with a soft smile, grasping at her waist to pull her into your lap. She straddled you like it was second nature, though it didn’t necessary feel immediately sexual. You just liked that she was close. “After you’ve gotten that stone and you’re about to bring everybody back.”

She grinned, “You really think we can do it, huh?”

“You can do anything, Nat. You’re my fucking hero. There’s no one I trust more to save all of us.” You let my fingertips trace gently down her cheek as her eyes softened lovingly. “Don’t tell Rocket or Tony I said that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Nope. Been recording this conversation the entire time. Gonna share it with everyone.”

You laughed as she grinned slyly.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your thumb grazing against her bottom lip.

“I love you,” she gently pressed a kiss against the pad of your thumb. “Don’t tell anyone how soft you make me, though.”

“Oh, they already know,” you teased quietly, relishing in the way she made your heart feel. You were so close to telling Peter to find his own ride, not wanting this moment to end, but you knew you and Natasha would have to pull away eventually.

Still, you could make it stretch as long as possible.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed softly, pressing her forehead against yours. “But I like to pretend that they don’t.”

You chuckled as she grinned cheekily.

“I love you too, by the way,” you murmured, as if she didn’t already know. “So fucking much.”

Your thumb drifted from her lip, down to her chin, and forever in tune, she quickly erased the distance between you before you could pull her closer. Seven years, and you had yet to find anything as incredible as kissing her.

Except maybe when after just a few seconds, she pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you with a twinkling smirk.

“Change your mind about that quickie?” You said playfully, biting your lip at her husky, soft laugh.

“Don’t you have to give a certain spider a ride?” She teased, as if she wasn’t the one who’d pressed her chest delicately against yours.

“There’s another spider that I’d rather give a different kind of ride right now…” Your fingers drifted down to the hem of her pants, but she was off of you before you could start to shimmy them down. You pouted ridiculously as she stood up, earning a laugh.

“We’ll have our own celebration in here when we’re both back,” she said coyly with a wink.

“Good, because we’ve only fucked once since I’ve gotten back from my mission, and it’s making me irritable.”

She chuckled as she grabbed ahold of your hands, effortlessly pulling you up off the bed and back into her arms.

“I love you,” she said again, pressing her lips against yours for a long moment. The words felt more weighted than they usually did, in the way they seemed to seep into your skin, take ahold of your chest and clench your heart. You could feel that this moment was important.

“I love you, too, Nat.”

On your way out, you were intercepted by Clint, who gave you a wry grin as he glanced down to your left hand.

“So I heard you and Nat got hitched,” he said, his eyes a soft contrast to his casual tone. “Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Clint and you had never been particularly close, but he was still family, and he meant so much to Natasha. “Steve had to be Nat’s best man, and it was disaster.”

Steve had actually been great, but you knew Clint would get a kick out of the idea of Captain America stiff by the altar, uncomfortable in the face of any kind of public display of affection, as far from the truth it actually was. There was something appreciative in his eyes as he laughed.

“Well, I got dibs when you guys renew your vows.”

You nodded fervently, “Definitely. Maybe once y’all bring everyone back, we’ll do a bigger wedding. I mean, Nat would hate that - “

You paused, then burst out laughing because Clint had said the same thing at the exact same time as you had, and it made you kind of regretful that you hadn’t thought to bond with him more before Thanos had snapped his fingers. But you supposed there was time for that.

Your and Clint’s laughter faded, and both of you hovered there for a moment. Before it could get too awkward, you gave him a soft smile.

“Take care of my girl, Barton.” He and Nat were paired up for the time heist, after all.

He nodded, corner of his lips curling up into a smile that you knew was sincere for him.

“She’s probably gonna be the one having to take care of me,” he joked, but then his eyes softened. “You know I’ll do everything I can to have her back.”

“I know.”

Still, you felt a little uneasy as you headed towards the hangar where the quinjets were kept. You didn’t like being away from home base while they were out on missions. It had always been like that, even before you were with Nat. The fact that she was your wife now intensified it. You really wanted to be there when she got back.

But alas, duty called.

-----

You were thrust into battle without a moment’s notice, when Doctor Strange’s portal appeared in the back of the quinjet just seconds after you had yanked Peter out of the Mexican rainforest as he ran from a bunch of cartel guys, wielding assault rifles and screaming “gringo!” at him.

He was in the middle of an adorable, earnest, apologetic ramble (one that would always be so Peter, even if he was less boy and more man these days) after you’d playfully accused him of being racist because he made you rescue his “white ass.” He’d be trying to tell you that he’d deviated from the mission you’d given him because he’d heard rumors of something akin to the power of an Infinity Stone buried deep in Central America. He knew you’d never authorize him to go after a rumor, so he took matters into his own hands (also very Peter, and it would be hypocritical for you to fault him for that), hoping to find a power source that could maybe reverse the damage that Thanos had done.

Not that it was necessary now. The Avengers had done it. Nat had done. Everyone was back, but apparently somehow that meant a resurgence of Thanos had come with them.

There were no time for questions, though, even though you had so many as you found myself in the rubbled remains of your home with an alien army before you and a homegrown one behind you. There was no time for proper reunions, even though you managed the quickest one when you came across your best friend Zoey on the battlefield - body engulfed in the trademark flames that defined her alter ego "The Flame" - and you two clicked right into place as you set her up perfectly to sizzle one of Thanos’s goons to ash, like no time had ever passed.

You guessed for her, though, no time really had passed.

There was a quick grin and nod before chaos descended again, and you were separated into different parts of the battle. There was a glimpse of T’Challa, carrying an Iron Man glove full of jewels - the Infinity Stones, you realized - across the leveled field - and Sam soaring above you, and Bucky firing shots into the enemy relentlessly, but there was no time to focus on any of this.

There was no time for you to find Natasha in the cacophony, as you forced yourself to focus fully on the battle in front of you. When you all had finished off Thanos once and for all, then you could hold her in your arms until the end of time if you wanted. But first you all had to make sure there was still a world for everyone to still live in.

There wasn’t even time to properly celebrate, as Thanos and his entire army dissipated into dust in the perfect full circle, when Tony slumped over, eyes glazed, his light gone. There was Peter’s full weight against you suddenly, his wet eyes drenching your neck, then Steve’s strong arms around both of you. like an anchor.  You couldn’t help but think that Steve’s gesture was more than just a comfort gesture because everyone had just lost the man who had brought you all together, who meant so much to each of you in different ways.

You didn’t want to confront what else it could mean, though.

[sodone-withlife]

enough

yay this is my first fic in over a month, and as per usual, there's not much proofreading. all mistakes are my own. also, this isn't as whump-y as my past works and includes a number of my headcanons

@yourlocalheartbreaker here's over 2k words of a rather OOC Criminal Minds fanfic based on your post :) I've intentionally made the ending a bit ambiguous, so let your imagination run wild. the case is also based on what happened in Boston.

here’s a post that clarifies some ambiguities

warnings: alcohol, mentioned character death, mentioned canon typical violence. also, I love all of the characters, but for the purposes of this story, this will come across as everyone (except Hotch, Morgan, and Strauss) slander. don't like it, don't read it.

word count: 2.2k words

“I really am sorry I couldn’t do more,” Strauss said quietly.

Hotch shook his head, staring into his whiskey. “You’ve already done so much,” he said equally quietly. He hesitated, wondering if he should give voice to the thought that had been nagging at him since the last in a week-long series of grueling questioning and testimony.

Fuck it, he thought, dowing the last of his whiskey.

“I think we both knew it was coming,” he said, looking at his now-former boss unflinchingly. To her credit, Strauss didn’t try to hide that she shared his thoughts as they shared a knowing look. “Too many minor bureaucratic infractions, a few major fiascos,” he continued, shaking his head ruefully, “it was only a matter of when.”

Strauss remained silent, swirling the last of her own drink in her glass. It was a longstanding tradition between the two of them to go out for drinks after especially taxing cases and bureaucratic nightmares, one that started weeks after Gideon stepped down and went on leave.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Why did you lie? You and I know very well you had nothing to do with it.” She turned to face Hotch fully, a hint of confusion appearing in her expression. “Why take the fall?”

The answer easily came to Hotch, but it didn’t erase the bitterness with which the words came out. “The leader is replaceable, but the team isn’t.” He looked pained, avoiding her incredulous stare. “Same reason as always.”

He could understand her exasperation; it wasn’t the first time he had discussed the issues within the team with her. Over the years, she tried again and again to get him out, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. She eventually accepted his refusal to leave, but it didn’t stop her from dropping hints of disapproval here and there—and they both knew some secret part of him agreed with her disparaging comments, much as he tried to ignore it.

The team dynamics had never truly recovered from Boston and Adrian Bale, and that had carried over to the newer members of the team who joined after the fiasco. His standoffish, laconic nature certainly didn’t help. Eventually, even Gideon was ignoring the cracks in the foundation of the team,

Out of all of his coworkers, only Strauss and Morgan remembered (and still sometimes saw) the less-guarded agent with surprising idealism that he had been before everything went to shit.

Now, after years of leadership under his belt, he didn’t know how to be anyone else but the sharp, authoritative unit chief.

Especially after Haley.

(As he had stood in front of the freshly dug grave, he swore that his family would never meet SSA Hotchner, Unit Chief, Agent No-Smile Hardass, if he could help it.)

(The moment he stepped through the front door, he would only be Dad.)

(And in front of a select group of people, he would be Aaron, the man who was just barely toeing the line between profiler and unsub in his jaggedly broken, near-unhinged protectiveness.)

And so he received each act of insubordination from the team, no matter the magnitude, with unflappable calmness, even as he stayed late and went to work hours early to deal with the towering stacks of paperwork that joined the already existing piles of budget expansion requests and case consults.

He trusted their judgment, even if that trust didn’t go both ways.

“You’re very respected, you know that?” Strauss suddenly commented. “It’s the only reason you’ve been able to cover for your team for so long.”

That was something Hotch knew very well. Much as he hated it, he often found himself in the midst of political maneuverings that embroiled his higher-ups, aided especially by his upbringing and law school education. In these circles, where everyone knew everyone wore masks to hide unsavory secrets, there was some degree of grudging respect for everyone, no matter their placement on either side of the aisle. Even those who came from money had to have special acumen in order to make it this far in the cutthroat world of DC politics.

Hotch had gained quite the reputation as a prosecutor in DC, and not just because his father had been a well-known attorney with high-profile clients. Coupled with his meteoric rise through the ranks of the bureau, helping out the right people and collecting numerous contacts and favors along the way, it was no wonder that he had managed to keep the team out of the line of fire for so long.

More and more often, however, he was questioning his decisions to reject each opportunity to move up the chain of command, to instead stay with the team as a field agent. Even though he could almost always understand the reasoning behind each act of insubordination—hell, he even encouraged it sometimes—he couldn’t help but want for things to be different, especially with every night he went home too late and every time he pulled out the concealer he had always had near him since childhood to cover up the bruise-like eyebags that found a permanent home on his face.

But in the end, Hotch didn’t even have a choice.

(But a small part of him knew that this was always how he was going to go.)

Really, he understood why they did what they did. Ten years ago, he would have done the same thing himself.

Now, however, he couldn’t afford to put Jack’s safety and wellbeing on the line.

Some might say that Jack was his weak spot, and they wouldn’t be wrong—he would wholeheartedly agree with them.

He couldn't find it in him to feel guilty about putting his family ahead of all else, but what JJ said when he called them into his office after the fiasco had cut deeply.

You of all people should understand, JJ had spat in his face, and every harsh word he was about to say himself, reprimanding them for callous insubordination to the highest degree, died on his lips. He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he just stood there in silent, pained shock, but it didn’t take long for JJ, Prentiss, and Reid to leave his office with an air of vindication, not sparing him another glance.

Hotch had spent the rest of the day fielding call after call, trying to piece together the exact course of events and fending off the sharks smelling blood in the water.

The bloody chunks of flesh of the three agents who died immediately in the blast, the two who didn’t even make it into the operating room, and the one adult hostage who couldn’t far enough away in time.

Now, sitting across from Strauss and staring into his empty glass, he wondered if things would have been different if he had gotten there faster, adding his own input in formulating a negotiation strategy that factored in the variables he only knew to take into account because of his combined years in prosecution and SWAT and because of Boston.

Especially Boston.

(He already considered all of the what-ifs. He knew that short of suddenly gaining time travel or teleportation abilities, he couldn’t have done anything.)

But maybe he foresaw his current situation the moment he saw Strauss’s emailed request for an urgent meeting the morning after he worked late into the night trying to control the fallout.

Just budget meetings with the higher up of higher-ups, he reassured Morgan when they bumped into each other as Hotch and Strauss made their way out of the Academy offices towards the parking garage. He knew Morgan didn’t believe him—he was wearing the suit that he reserved for black tie events and meetings on the Hill, for one—but there was a reluctant acceptance and a hint of knowing in his eyes.

(Of course, Morgan had an idea of what was going on. No one in the country was ignorant of what had happened yesterday afternoon. As he was looking through the news coverage, confused and horrified as to how something like this could have happened, memories of Boston rose to the forefront of his mind, and he knew that this would end in blood.)

(Then Hotch called him in a frenzy, apologizing profusely for bothering him on his weekend off while all but begging for him to look after Jack for the rest of the day. It was an easy decision. Morgan took Jack to the movie theater, helped him with biking, took him out for ice cream, whatever it took to keep Jack happy and occupied while he himself worried over the state of things at the office.)

(It was well past midnight when Hotch finally fell into a restless sleep in bed next to Morgan, who had a standing invitation to stay overnight and was trying to help him loosen up his tensed muscles.)

“I’m coming into the office tomorrow to tie up loose ends,” Hotch suddenly told Strauss. “I’m not going to pull a Gideon. They don’t deserve that.”

He said as much next day as he stood in the bullpen, looking out at the agents he had worked with for years as he made his announcement.

“After careful consideration, I have decided to retire from the BAU,” he ignored the sounds of shock that rippled through the crowd, “and with my retirement, I am cutting all official ties with the Bureau.”

He carefully avoided looking at the team as he continued. “Please respect that I would prefer to not discuss the details of my retirement at this time, but I will say that this recent case had a lot to do with my decision,” he swept a stern gaze around the room, ignoring the pang in his heart and sudden burning in his eyes when he accidentally made eye contact with a devastated-looking Garcia.

Hotch quickly looked away and continued with his goodbyes before he managed to find an out to retreat to his office, where he picked up the last box of his belongings. It’s surprisingly light, he thought distantly as he took in the stripped office for the last time.

Oh, right, Strauss had helped me pack everything else and bring home the law books and framed certificates after we went out for drinks last night.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Strauss stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and closing the blinds to give them some modicum of privacy from the profilers waiting in the bullpen with their barrage of questions.

“This is it, then,” she commented, eyes on the badge and gun that was left on the expansive desk.

Hotch nodded. “I’m sure the suits will be sweeping through my reports and cases soon enough. The team will find out then.” He turned to meet her gaze, an unreadable glint in his eyes, “But I daresay we will be seeing each other quite soon, however.”

They grasped each other’s hand firmly, something unspoken passing between them. There was a beat of stillness, then Hotch let go. He opened the office door and swept past her, past the team, and into the elevator with his phone already next to his ear, his professional mask back as he left this part of his life behind.

Strauss walked out onto the catwalk, looking out into the bullpen at the profilers sitting at their desks, shell-shocked at the man’s sudden (and all-too-final) departure.

Truthfully, Strauss didn’t know what he meant when he hinted that he would be seeing her (and presumably the team) again soon, but she assumed it had to do with the closed meeting he was pulled into the moment he arrived at the office this morning. She may not be trained to notice the details in human behavior, but she could tell there was a peaceful ease to Hotch’s goodbye that shouldn’t have been there, in addition to the strange lack of the bitterness she knew had been there last night when they went out for drinks.

“Erin, what the hell was that about?” Rossi’s voice shook her out of her thoughts. She turned to the approaching agent, game face back on and preparing to finally unleash the full scope of what had happened over a week ago onto the remaining profilers, who had been shielded from the consequences by Hotch’s presence and tireless negotiations alone.

Whatever Rossi was about to say next was suddenly cut off by an outraged “What?” coming from Morgan, who had been all but interrogating Prentiss, JJ, and Reid about the guilt was practically painted all over their expressions. Now, he ran out of the bullpen, chasing after Hotch and ignoring the calls of his name behind him.

Strauss watched all of this calmly; Hotch had asked that one of the team be made unit chief after his departure, but there was no way she was letting that happen on her watch. Especially based on Morgan’s determined chase after the now-former unit chief, she imagined she would be having two open positions to fill.

It was about time those two got their heads out of their asses, she thought, smiling internally.

May you find your peace, Aaron Hotchner.

[incorrect-spiderson]

Ok so. I really don’t want to spam your inbox but I just need someone to tell me if my thoughts are valid or invalid (you don’t have to answer if that bothers you. Or if the message deletes itself because it’s so big)

A few weeks ago I saw a big tumblr post about the Irondad fandom being kind of racist and sexist for claiming two white men are „soooo close and like father and son“ instead of like, the canon Relationships like Spideychelle and ned and Peter and May and Peter. Saying that irondad fandom says spideychelle had NO chemistry and no worldbuildinh etc but say things like Peter and tony loving each other (platonic ofc) or completely ignoring Ned and peters friendship and ship him with a skinny white boy (h*rley) look. I totally and completely see their point and really agree. BUT.. I just feel really really bad now reading fics? (I haven’t read a fic in weeks because this thought is really stuck on my head)

I am an almost 20 year old asexual aromantic girl who just.. really prefers not to read any romance in fanfics. I see enough overdone romance in other media and fanfics are really my comfort zone. Especially irondad because there is nothing s*xual in it.

It’s not that I hate spideychelle or Ned/Peter. And it’s not that I ship Peter/h*rley because they Are both white boys. In fact, I absolutely hate that ship.

Like I said i don’t even ship anyone really.

But I really like reading about Peter and Morgan because they remind me of myself and my sister. But now there’s always this thing in my head that says „you prefer reading about two characters who never even INTERACTED before being siblings instead of the canon relationships?? That’s so stupid“ .I don’t even know what the Point of me bothering you was. Really. But like I said I feel like I shouldn’t read fanfics anymore because I feel really really bad for not liking the canon romantic .. and just liking just platonic things. Like I said, I’m sorry for my rant, you don’t even know me and yet I still bother you over stupid things

First off never feel bothered to send long texts love I’ll read answer them always. You will never both me with a rant or a confession or anything of the sort and it doesn’t matter that I don’t know you I still will be here to love and support you

Second, I’ve never seen a post like that but I would assume yes there are people out there that believe that Irondad is sexist and/or racist and to that I say, bullshit.

Absolute bullshit.

A) Why would it be racist? Or sexist? Both characters are canonically white characters. Both characters are canonically males. We don’t ignore that Peter has May or MJ or other motherly figures in his life but we enjoy exploring the relationship between Peter and Tony. That is in no way sexist. Also, I’ve never seen any slander in my entire time here about Ned or MJ being characters of color and I most certainly don’t write Harley into Ironfam just cause he’s some skinny white boy. Whatever that post is is a blatant hack at trying to make something into something it’s not. Those kinds of posts are what confuse people on what actual racism and sexism are.

B) I’m with you girl in the fact that I’m not into reading romance really. I personally enjoy Parkner, Spideychelle, and Ned/Peter but I’m just more into reading platonic fics. That’s just how it is. I don’t want or need to focus on the canonnicity of irondad or Ironfam.

C) You shouldn’t feel guilty whatsoever. The point of posts like those is to instill guilt in people who are just enjoying themselves and things they love. You shouldn’t feel guilty about it at all. Honestly, whoever made that post is an idiot and has obviously never interacted with most of the irondad fandom. And I’m not saying there aren’t probably some people somewhere in the fandom that are sexist and racist assholes but those people try to infect every fandom and we can’t compare them to the majority because all they are is a couple of crumbs on the loaf of bread and crumbs tend to fall off.

In summary, don’t feel guilty about being in this fandom. This fandom isn’t sexist for liking and exploring the platonic father/son relationship of two fictional characters. This fandom isn’t racist because both characters are canonically white . This fandom is just a bunch of people who think an Irondad and his little funky Spiderson are pretty cool.

[avengershumanresources]

blood 8 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 7 - part 9

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

WARNING: Attempted sexual assault/violence

8 - a secret

The news swept over the castle like a wave at high tide.

Prince Loki and Prince Thor were leading a brigade of men toward the castle, and the rumor was that the princes were furious with Obadiah. 

“I did say trust me, didn’t I?” Stephen joked while the two of you watched the men cross the threshold into the castle grounds, both princes sitting majestically upon their steads, leading their entourage inside. 

“They’re going to get themselves killed,” you murmured.

“Obadiah wouldn’t be so forward in front of the public,” Stephen reasoned, eyeing the Asgardian guardsmen as they continued their march inside. “They look like they’re ready for a war now. He’s be stupid to start anything with the men they’ve brought.”

He wasn’t wrong. The men looked as angry as their leaders were rumored to be. Their armor shimmered against the bright summer sunlight, and their weapons didn’t look like they were in town for a diplomatic mission. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would have guessed they had plans to overthrow the castle themselves.

“He is on our side, right?” you asked again, nervous at the confident way the brothers surveyed their troops below. 

“Yes,” Stephen assured you with a confident nod of his head. “They both wish to see Peter safely on the throne.”

“I hope I don’t actually have to marry him,” you blurted out, catching Loki’s eye and offering a small wave in his direction. He bowed his head and rounded his horse into the castle behind the last of his infantry.

“Oh no?” Stephen teased, pinching your arm with a chuckle. “Did Brock win you over with his boyish charm?” 

“Gods you’re unbearable sometimes,” you shoved his arm and started back for the castle. “Let’s get ready. I have a feeling court is going to take a while.”

(—)

“Announcing, Prince Loki of Asgard,” Sam bowed and stepped aside while the dark haired prince sauntered forward, ignoring the wave of whispers and dirty looks that were sent his way by the court. 

You were seated a few levels down from your uncle with Peter and Pepper. Morgan was with her nursemaid, and the rest of the court stood on the ground, watching the scene unfold with great interest. 

“You have a lot of nerve showing up,” Obadiah opened, glaring down at him. Brock was at his side, arms crossed while he glowered down. 

“You have nerve with your slander, your majesty,” he snapped back. “Defaming your closest allies for what, this traitor?” 

“I remind you, you’re standing in my keep,” Obadiah snarled back and Loki laughed. 

“My brother and my men are already within your walls, with reinforcements waiting at the border,” he countered sharply. “I dare you to make a move against me. Even with your hound at your side, you would be making a very powerful enemy.”

Obadiah exchanged an uneasy look with Brock before clearing his throat. 

“Why are you here?” 

“You’ve stolen my bride,” Loki stated simply, eyeing drifting in your direction. You kept your expression neutral, despite your heartbeat kicking against your chest. “I’ve come to collect my due and close what relations Asgard has with you. Unless you have something to offer to appease my father’s understandable frustrations.”

The murmurs started up with that. 

Peter even leaned over and whispered in your ear. 

“He didn’t mention that,” he said, frowning, his fingers curling nervously against his armrest. You reached over and touched the top of his hand, focusing on calming your younger brother. 

“You know how he is,” you reminded him softly, willing calm toward him. After a moment, you saw his body relax. “He’s negotiating. You know our uncle won’t listen otherwise.”

Peter gave a curt nod, returning his focus to the scene before you, and listening intently to the exchange. 

Amora, for her part, had been ignoring the whole ordeal until you tried calming Peter. When you pulled your hand away, you instantly felt her eyes bore into you from across the room, where she and Stephen stood away from the crowds. 

“I was under the impression there was no claim to the princess,” Brock cut in, glaring now at Obadiah. The tension between the three men was palpable, even in the massive throne room. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, there wasn’t,” Obadiah hissed, waving away the other king and returning his attention to Loki. 

“I beg to differ,” Loki reached in his robes and pulled out a rolled document. The entire room was on edge as he passed it to Sam and the knight handed it off to the king.  

Obadiah took his time in unfurling it. He skimmed it over, expression reddening, with Brock reading over his shoulder. 

“Forgery!” he cried, throwing the document aside. Loki snapped his fingers and the paper materialized back into his hands. 

“This was written three days after the princess’ brith, pledging her to me when we came of age,” he explained coolly, mostly to the crowd. Ladies and lords gasped at the revelation, eyes darting between the royals at the scandal.

“Why weren’t you married sooner?” Obadiah demanded, ignoring the cutting scowls from Brock. “She’s had her blood for years now. The contract is no longer binding.”

“We were to be married after the king returned from battle,” Loki lied easily. “But the princess was distraught and asked that it be postponed. I, ever the gentleman, respected these wishes until such time there was stability in the kingdom. I never imagined such a betrayal by an allied nation would have occurred in such a short time.”

Eyes shot to you while the kings continued their interrogation over who would eventually take your hand. 

You kept your eyes down, only looking up to Pepper when she lightly touched your hand with a loving smile. 

“The princess mentioned none of this,” Obadiah howled, and when attention was diverted back to you, Loki jumped in and saved you from embarrassment. 

“Of course she didn’t,” he stated, tone as calm and cool as it’d been when he entered the room. “Look at you, she’d lost her father and potential betrothed in one sweep. She was probably terrified to go against you. It’s why I’m here, to defend her honor, take her as my bride, and return to Asgard.”

“I won’t allow it,” Brock voiced, stepping down from Obadiah’s side and moving to the ground near Loki where he continued his case. “The princess has agreed to marry me.”

“Under context of further terror, I’m sure,” Loki supplied sharply. “Your men slaughtered her father, leaving nothing behind. What other option did she have but to agree?”

“Do not play this court for fools,” Brock hissed. “We all know it was Asgard who planned the attack and framed my kingdom. The trading negotiations were never enough.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked, expression darkening. “I was under the impression that the trade routes benefited this kingdom handsomely. Is it not convenient that I’ve been given permission from my father to end our agreement if I see it necessary?”

The room began to panic at this. A few of the lords even voiced their protest at the concept, and seeing that he was losing the crowd, Obadiah bellowed out.

“Enough!” his voice rattled against the glass in the windows and echoed through the chamber until everyone fell silent. “I will convene with my council until the matter is resolved. Loki, you and your men will be our honored guests until this… confusion is settled.”

“I accept your invitation,” Loki smiled snidely at Brock with a grand bow. “My men will settle in the land surrounding the castle for the time being, and appreciate your generosity during this… difficult time.”

Court was dismissed, but ladies and lords lingered, watching the royal family and the kings as they turned the public spectacle into a more private conversation. 

“Princess?” Amora questioned, appearing at your elbow just as you stood from your chair. “May I have a word with you?”

Eyes wide, you tried to seek out Stephen, but he was nowhere to be seen, likely caught up in the crowd answering questions and speculations from the lords and ladies. 

“The princess and I were about to enjoy a walk through the gardens,” Pepper looped her arms through yours, throwing on another smile. “You’re welcome to join us. I will try not to be a bother.”

Amora’s gaze flickered over the queen, her plastered on smile faltering slightly at the offer. 

“I’d be honored, you majesty,” she finally stated, letting Pepper lead the way to the gardens with a pair of guards behind. 

“It’s a beautiful day, don’t you agree, Amora?” Pepper started the conversation, forcing Amora to keep in step with you and the queen. “I planted some roses last year that have finally come to bloom. Do you like roses, Amora?” 

“I do,” the sorceress answered tersely before turning to you, eyes glowing an ominous green. “Princess, what do you make of what just occurred? Is it true you were frightened from telling the truth of this prior betrothal?” 

“My late husband always intended for the princess to marry Loki,” Pepper answered before you could even open your mouth. “It was hardly a secret. You should have seen the two at balls when they were children. It was so endearing.”

“Then do you protest the marriage of the princes to my king, your grace?” Amora tried and Pepper stopped, pulling her arm free of yours and giving the sorceress a once over. 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, witch, but I suggest you stop,” she practically growled at the blonde. “My daughter will not marry your king, and your schemes will be stopped before the moon is full.”

Amora’s eyes snapped back to normal, her pupils flaring at the overt threat. 

“How can you be so confident?” she countered, voice full of venom. “You would do well to stay quiet and pretty on the side. You’re no longer queen, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“My son will sit upon the throne in three months time,” Pepper reminded her. “And if there is any obstruction to that, those who stand in the way of the Stark family will burn. Darling, what are the family words?”

You startled at the shift toward you.

“We shall overcome and conquer,” you recited quickly before Pepper returned a razor sharp smile toward the sorceress.

“I think your king might need you,” Pepper added, waving away the blonde and turning toward her roses without so much as a second glance. “Gods know we don’t.”

You’d never heard such open hostility from your step-mother. The woman had always had a calm reserve about her that you’d respected during times of crisis. She’d been the voice of reason when you’d seen your father fretting over alliances or military tactics.

Amora hesitated a moment, looking from Pepper to you, before letting out a resigned sigh and leaving the two of you to the flowers. 

“Is she gone?” Pepper asked, tinkering with a rose that was struggling to bloom. 

You waited until Amora had returned to the castle interior before confirming she was out of sight. 

All at once, Pepper enveloped you into her arms and sighed, squeezing you against her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against the top of your hairline. She pulled away after a moment, her hands still lingering on your shoulders while she tried to read your expression. “This is never what we had planned for you.”

The honesty in her tone broke your heart. How many times had she and your father discussed your future? Your prospects?

“We can only do our best,” you murmured. “Who could have predicted the turn this would have taken?”

“If you had to choose, who would make you happy?” Pepper asked seriously and you considered her words carefully.

“Of the two?”

Pepper’s expression lifted at the question, a knowing smile playing at the edge of her lips.

“I see,” she hummed in thought. “That damned idiot never came forward.”

Feeling your face warm at that, you sighed with a defeated laugh. 

“He probably thought there was more time,” you reached for one of the nearby roses and gave it a sniff.

Pepper paused, and when you looked to see why she hadn’t spoken, her expression had fallen, eyes lost a million miles away.

“I think we all did,” she finally whispered, blinking back the pooling water in her eyes. “I do believe you could be happy with Loki.”

You made a noise- not quite of agreement, but not of total disgust. 

“He might even allow you certain… liberties,” she offered lightly. “For his mischief, he is a good man at heart.”

Pulling away from the flower, you finally met her eyes directly, knowing that you would have to face this eventually.

“He’s doing this for our family,” you whispered, keeping your gestures calm and neutral under the eye of the guards. You plucked one of the roses free and move to attach it to the collar of her dress. “He means to stop the alliance Brock and Obadiah are planning, to keep Peter on the throne.”

Pepper’s expression hardened at the information. You could tell she was forming connections as you fidgeting with the button holes and slide the rose into place. 

“You keep secrets well, dove,” she reached for the flower affectionately before leaning and kissing your cheek. “Peter… not so much. Have you gone to the kitchens recently? I hear you might have a reunion with a little thief from yesterday.”

She pulled away and started back toward the castle, one of the guards following behind her, the other remaining to watch you. You realized that it was Steve, his expression guilty when you approached.

“Were you listening?” you challenged and he sighed.

“Only a little,” he confessed. “For your safety.”

“A conversation between mother and daughter?” you smirked and he rolled his eyes. 

“You should go to the kitchens,” he offered in place of an explanation. “Or rather, shall we?” 

(—)

“Are you ready for what you must do?” Wanda asked, lifting the glass vial Stephen had sealed and set out on his desk. 

The observatory was unnaturally quiet. The fireplaces extinguished, the books all stacked away or moved to his family home in the countryside. Aside from him and Wanda, there was no life in the room, all traces of your late nights together, books read, or spells learned had been erased.

It was almost time. 

“What choice do I have now?” he asked, plucking the vial from her hand and giving it a shake. “Loki can buy us some time, but until the family is secure we cannot make a move.”

“The princess is headed to the kitchens,” Wanda stated, pausing while her eyes glowed red. “Brock is unhappy with todays events and is looking for her.”

Stephen clenched the vial in his palm. He didn’t want to exploit your emotions, but you wouldn’t be able to hide from Amora forever. The queen had done a marvelous job of keeping her away, but she, along with every other magic user in the room, had felt the seidr you’d unwittingly passed to Peter.

“I need to be with the king,” Wanda suddenly stated, eyes wide. “The future is moving toward us faster than expected, Stephen.”

She disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, leaving him to his empty, broken room. 

Would the two of you get a chance to steal away in its comfort again? 

Would you even forgive him for lying and hiding the truth from you?

Opening his hand and rolling the vial around his palm, he sighed. Wanda was right. Things were going to move quickly and all at once after the first weight dropped. 

(—)

Natalia hadn’t expected you to be glaring at her from across the kitchen.

So when you dragged her to the hallway, demanding an explanation, she was at a loss for words. At least, until she saw Steve’s smirk from the corner of the space. 

Oh.

It was nearing time.

“Stephen wanted me to be closer to keep an eye on things,” she lied. It wasn’t a complete lie. She was close and Stephen had agreed with the plan (the plan set in place by your father, but you weren’t to be made aware of that just yet) and she was keeping an eye on the quiet rebellion stirring under Peter’s leadership.

All the paths were beginning to converge, whispers turning to quiet battle cries as the castle readied itself for battle. 

And you were none the wiser. 

It was too risky otherwise. Amora was focusing in on your seidr and any lapse would pull the magic user’s attention. If you even thought about rebellion and war, the sorceress would be tipped off and Brock or Obadiah would make a move to counter it. 

“Why wouldn’t he have told me?” you demanded, arms crossed. Steve continued to look amused in the background. Natalia would have to knock him straight one of these days…

“Safety,” she merely replied, shrugging.

A call came from the kitchens and she used it as an excuse to exit, but you followed behind stubbornly. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” you asked, pestering her while she scooped up a basket of bread for the Asgardian troops outside.

“Princess, please, you’re in the way,”  Nat shoved past you, earning a small gasp from one of the kitchenmaids at the casual way she addressed the princess. Pulling you aside, she lowered her voice. “You’re going to expose me. Just trust what is happening is for your own good.”

She stalked off, fuming at the way Steve continued to smirk to himself, knowing full well he was the one who brought her down there. 

Not that he was entirely to blame, it was part of the plan, just a little earlier than anticipated. It meant that Natalia had to work fast and get a message to Loki and Thor’s camp before nightfall.

“Is this funny?” you asked Steve dryly, motioning toward the stairs back to the main living quarters with a defeated sigh.

“Not at all, your highness,” he answered cheekily. 

(—)

No one was willing to answer your questions. OR rather, no one was around to answer your questions. 

The observatory was locked- meaning Stephen was off the grounds. Wanda wasn’t around, Peter was avoiding you after the ordeal in the throne room, and even Wong was no where to be found. 

“Maybe you should retire to some light reading before dinner?” Steve suggested after having followed you across the greater length of the castle. 

“You’re hiding something too and I’m not thrilled about it,” you snapped, turning on him. “Why is Nat in the kitchens? Is James in the stables?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s in the armory,” Steve answered, deadpan, watching your expression until he finally let out another laugh. “Princess, I promise you, there is no grand conspiracy against you. Master Strange is just ensuring extra layers of protection are in place for you.”

“For what? My wedding?” you asked bitterly. “I thought that’s what Loki was for.”

“These are dangerous times, my grace,” he replied. “One can never be too sure of who to trust. I caught a Baron at the border not three days ago negotiating with one of Brock’s men for privileged information.”

“Who?” you asked, a little curious as to who would be so bold.

“Zemo,” he said the name sourly. “He was apparently promised more land and favor in Brock’s kingdom for supplying vulnerable points of entry to the castle.”

“Oh,” you paused, considering the passages you’d ventured through with Natalia and Stephen over the years. 

As if reading your mind, Steve spoke up. 

“They’re secured,” he murmured, before nudging your shoulder at an approaching figure.

“Princess,” King Brock greeted with fake enthusiasm. He reached for your hand and gave the knuckles a light graze of his lips. “Would you like to take a small walk around the castle with me?”

“The princess was about to start her afternoon studies,” Steve informed him briskly. 

Brock sized him over, just then realizing he was even there. 

“The princess can spare some time for her betrothed,” he stated firmly, looking down at you, hand still clutched around yours. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Let Stephen know I’ll be with him shortly,” you urged, hoping Steve would do well to get the sorcerer or someone who was capable of intervening. 

He nodded briskly, excusing himself and hurrying down the hall with your message. 

“Quite the ordeal today,” Brock commented, guiding you toward the private quarters. “Tell me, do you wish to marry that brute? I can’t imagine with your delicate heart that wedding the monster who killed your father would be acceptable.”

You swallowed, pulling your hand free and pretending to fix a button on your sleeve to occupy yourself. 

“I serve at the pleasure of my king,” you answered neutrally. “What agreement he makes is outside of my control.”

Brock stopped, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?” he asked sharply. “Or like me for that matter?”

You froze like a deer at the hunt. 

You didn’t trust him, and you were far from liking him. You knew in your heart he was the one who’d killed your father, who’d betrayed him and brought your home into chaos with a mad king on the throne. 

“I don’t know what you mean, my liege,” you lied, continuing down the hall and pretending to admire a tapestry you’d seen a thousand times before. 

“Don’t play coy,” he catch your arm and spun you to face him directly. “It wasn’t me, you know. It was the Asgardians. They wish to frame my men for their misdeeds.”

You ripped your arm away, glaring up at him.

“Hundreds of our men saw you on the horse, leading the charge,” you snapped, forgetting exactly who you were speaking so freely with in the heat of the moment. “The Asgardians weren’t even positioned for that area. How could they have assembled so quickly and nearly destroyed our army for effectively?”

Brock gaped at you in surprise, not expecting such a curt and honest response from you. The surprise quickly shifted to fury and he grabbed the top of your arm, pulling you toward a nearby room and shoving you inside. 

The room must have belonged to him or Amora. It was a standard living arrangement with an armoire and a four post bed, but no personal touches that suggested it was permanent situation. 

“Who do you think you are?” he snarled, shoving you against a wall. “You’re lucky anyone is giving you a second thought, don’t think because that bastard prince has shown up that you aren’t anything but something for my seed to fill.” 

He was in your face, hissing his words as he continued to push you back against the wall. 

“Get away from me,” you threw an elbow, catching him in the jaw, but that served only to fuel his anger. He caught you by the wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and pinning you face first onto the cold stone. 

You could hear him fumbling with his belts, his breath hot against your neck while you tried to snuggle yourself free. Each movement made him twist even tighter on your hand, sending a shock of pain up the arm. 

“Has your wizard fucked you already?” he snarled, pressing his hard member against the back of your skirts. “I bet you’re just a little whore for him, aren’t you?”

You squirming became more desperate. His hands caught your waist, his knee edging up the skirts. 

“Too bad you’re mine,” he growled, pulling at the strings of your corset and trying to shuffle it down your waist. “I’ll have him hanged and let you watch his pathetic body sway in the courtyard while I fill you with my heirs, you pathetic whimpering fool.”

He’d nearly succeeded in pinning you in place when you remembered the dagger hidden at the front of your dress. Using your free hand, you slipped it free and rolled against his grasp, swinging the sharp object toward him.

It caught his face and he reeled back, yelling in pain, blood dripping from his cheek. 

“You bitch!” he swung, catching your face and sending you stumbling back toward the bed. He moved toward you, blood spilling over your dresses while he reached down and gripped your neck, hiking the skirts up while he ripped his pants down. 

You tried to scream, to throw fists, but no matter how you fought, he was overpowering you. 

You closed your eyes, willing it all to be over, to have someone hear the chaos, but no one came. You couldn’t let this happen. Every inch of skin repelled at his touch, your entire soul repulsed by his very existence, you willed everything inside of you to get him as far away from you as possible. 

Your world was going dark when you held up a weak hand to try and shove him off of you one last time while he positioned himself over you. 

The was a yelp of surprise and a crash. The constriction on your throat loosen and no longer was he ripping at your skirts. 

Opening your eyes, you saw Brock hunched over on the other side of the room, a fresh wound bleeding from the back of his head, the stone wall behind him cracked slightly. 

You looked to your outstretched hand, a faint glow of violet was fading and you slowly sat up to take in the situation. 

Did you just kill him?

“Princess?” a voice was calling from the hall, a short rap of knuckles on the door before it opened, revealing Loki.

“Close the door,” you urged sharply, your voice broken from the damage Brock had done to your throat. Loki obliged, taking in the scene with wide eyes. He was at your side in an instant, touching your cheek where you were certain a bruise was forming around your eye.

“What happened?” his tone had dropped dangerously, and from the look on his face, you were certain he already knew the answer.

“Did I kill him?” you asked, eyes falling behind your friend to the slumped over king on the ground. “He’s bleeding…”

“I hope so,” he hissed, standing and moving to the king. He checked his pulse and sighed. “Alive.”

“What are we going to do?” you asked, panic now forming in your chest. This was very very bad. If Obadiah found you… or him… or he told someone about…. 

“Let me handle it,” he murmured, returning to your side. “Hold still.”

His hands were cool while he traced around the tender spot on your face. As he moved his fingers, they glowed a beautiful emerald color and the pain began to recede.

“Look at me,” he ordered gently, lifting your chin to examine his handiwork. “Lovely as ever, princess.”

Dumbfounded, you touched the bruise and found no pain or swollen skin. 

“I couldn’t control it,” you whispered, looking down at your hand when you dropped it into your lap. “Stephen said it would be best not to completely seal it. That it might serve as protection but…”

Loki chuckled at your hesitation.

“I’ll take care of him,” he promised firmly. “He won’t remember a thing. You’re fortunate that Stephen and Amora are examining the barriers around the castle. She would have sensed your seidr immediately.”

“Won’t she know you tampered with him?”

“She’s good, but I’m better,” he winked and helped you to your feet. “Are you injured anywhere else?” 

There was a pause while you realized precisely what he meant. 

“No, he didn’t- he wasn’t able to-,” you stammered out, cheating aching at the fresh memory. Loki pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms over your shoulders protectively. You hadn’t realized you’d been trembling until he had steadied you.

“You should retire for the evening,” he suggested. “I’ll have someone bring up your dinner.”

“What about-?” you looked to Brock, still unconscious on the ground. 

“I told you, I will take care of it,” he reminded you with a playful smirk. “Here.”

A shimmer of green overtook you and you looked down at your formally ripped and tattered dress. It’d been replaced with a fresh dress in Loki’s colors of emerald and gold.

“You’re hilarious,” you joked, smoothing out the silks and bending over to recollect your dagger and sheath. 

“You have to admit, you do you look good in my colors,” he teased.

“I prefer my own,” you countered, the dress shifting to the crimsons of house Stark. “Or maybe the blues of Kamar-Taj.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You’re just cruel,” he sighed, leaving the dress in red. “Lock your doors. Only answer for those you trust. I’ll inform Stephen what has happened as soon as I’m done.”

He guided you toward the door, a hand on your back. 

“Are you sure?” you asked a final time and he just smiled, letting you back into the hallway and closing the door behind you.

“Trust me,” he supplied before the door latched shut. 

A lot of people were saying that to you recently. 

On the other side of the door, Loki looked at the king and scoffed.

“Pathetic.” 

Snapping his fingers, he left the man exactly how he was, materializing outside of Prince Peter’s quarters.

“Your highness!” he knocked frantically on the door. When Peter peered out, Loki rushed in, rapidly explaining what had happened between the princess and the king.  

Peter went into a frenzy, while Loki stood to the side, watching the young man announce it was time to make their move against Obadiah. 

The younger prince was absolutely right, in more ways than he realized.

(--)

9 - a king’s arrival 

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel  @ladynothing​ @im-a-bi-disaster-help​ @idkwhatthisislol​

[alloftimeandspacetosee]

Shouting in the Wind, Part3

And here we are, at the end of what I wrote (bc this was the end of the roleplay as well haha)

 I fully intend to write some more, but uhhhh yeah. idk. I feel like it works best when there’s plot going on in the background to interact around?

 no idea. Sort of doing one for some other OCs, but that’s definitely suffering from I-don’t-know-what’s-going-on symptoms.

[1] [2]

~

3:29

rip in pieces: fuk yeahhhhhh

PI Sleuth: I don’t think that’s Morgan, but even if it is - what are you doing up so late?

rip in pieces: it isnt

oh

oh maybe it is

Cap: oops

Should maybe try harder the next time, alright?

PI Sleuth: You should, perhaps, go to sleep now?

rip in pieces: fair

9:45

Sunshine Child: how did you get into his phone?

Best of the Beast: would u believe that i found a perfect prosthetic of his thumb in his bag

The Listener: … No.

Best of the Beast: good, cause thatd be weird

The Listener: Why did you even suggest that?

Best of the Beast: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i am vv tired

rip in pieces: fuckin’ shattered mate aye

The Listener: Please. Don’t do that.

Sunshine Child: how then?

Best of the Beast: oh so u know how its fingerprint locked and i dont have any of the right equipment to get a copy of his fingerprint with me

weirdly

The Listener: Yes, because we all carry that around with us.

Best of the Beast: oh, u do? damn Ash, always prepared

anyway

so im laying there

in bed

unable to sleep

and scruff is whining about his bag and being generally hopless and miserable without him

Sunshine Child: I hope you gave him the pats

Best of the Beast: of course I did, I’m not some kind of /monster/

[pic of Scruff lying across Esther’s lap, belly up and clearly relaxed. Her other hand is resting on his belly, and his head is half crooked up towards the camera, ears flopping back and tongue half stuck out]

and im playing with summers phone bc mine is plugged into the wall on the other side of the room and aint nobody moving that far

Twin #2: #mood

Best of the Beast: and his screen lights up bc someones tryna contact him

(cant work out who bc his nicknames are weird af)

and scruff stretches across to nose at the button and it

it opens???

The Listener: He’s set his phone to open to Scruff?

Twin #1: i mean. if it works?

Sunshine Child: that’s kinda sweet

Actual Dad™: I hope you didn’t snoop too much.

Best of the Beast: what do you take me for i am /hurt/

The Plan™: …

Best of the Beast: only a little. storms ‘’looking after’’ his phone now

apparently i cant be trusted or some shit

Cap: well that’s fair

Best of the Beast: holy shit yall are terrible

here i am doing a good deed for my bro and yall

yall are accusing me of /theft/ and /misdeeds/

the slander

Twin #1: did you get anything good on him?

Best of the Beast: nah he logged out all his apps before leaving his phone n his texts are in some kinda code

The Listener: And there we have it. Esther really can’t be trusted ;)

Best of the Beast: oh got damn

Sunshine Child: nice

Twin #1: buddy got play~ed

Best of the Beast: u guys are the w or s t

im gonna go train w storm

see if i ever come back to u guys

Twin #2: you love us really

Best of the Beast: shut up u arent my real mum

10:15

Twin #1: @pi-whatever the frick

dad

i like that youll call tooth out on her late nights but not mum???

13:23

PI Sleuth: That would be because when your mother is having a ridiculously late night, I am actually sleeping.

Twin #1: fair

Cap: hey, the city never sleeps at night, why should I?

Twin #2: do we need to look up international scandals?

Cap: ha. ha.

[Cap set her own nickname to sleepisfortheweak]

sleepisfortheweak: I don’t think I need to explain myself to you

15:07

Best of the Beast: hey cap how long did u take before challenging ure first league?

like after beating the gyms I mean

sleepisfortheweak: uh

I think I… skipped out the region for a while?

wait no that was before the last gym

is this for Storm?

Best of the Beast: yeah im tryna convince him he can do it before the others get back

sleepisfortheweak: So I don’t think I’m /really/ the best person to judge that

bc I charge on and on and on

but hey it seemed to work

until it didn’t?

Best of the Beast: gosh thats useful

sleepisfortheweak: What I’m trying to say is that he’s going to be the best judge of how ready he is

If he doesn’t feel ready, don’t push him

Best of the Beast: what if he doesnt believe hes ready?

Twin #2: kick his ass

Best of the Beast: wow youre even worse at this

sleepisfortheweak: Don’t listen to her she never did competitive battling

Twin #2: I mean true but

sometimes they just need convincing?

Best of the Beast: and how

exactly

would my

‘’kicking his ass’’

convince him?????

Twin #2: are you passing up an opportunity to beat some sense into someone?

Best of the Beast: this is storm were talking about

itd be like kicking a puppy

a cute one

one that im like

Twin #2: are you

15:20

Best of the Beast: am i waht???

dont leave like that what the fuck

The Listener: It’s happened.

Best of the Beast: what

whats happened

sleepisfortheweak: Morgan

Best of the Beast: W H A T

Twin #1: Aurora’s got it, she’s gone.

So’s Phoe, apparently?

she was on her way here by boat

sleepisfortheweak: did she forget Aurora can teleport

Best of the Beast: i swear u blessed are fckn useless

waht the FUCK is going on?

The Listener: We don’t know.

But Morgan is registering, and Hera’s spiked, I can feel it.

Twin #1: And Phoe phoned

wanting to know if we knew about it

so Aurora’s gone to get her and find the kids

Best of the Beast: why didnt u go?

Twin #1: Don’t know how long they’ll be, someone’s got to keep our job/place/etc

Also it’ll probably be a quick job and Aurora doesn’t need to worry about an extra body to transport when there’ll already be four and herself.

sleepisfortheweak: That’s good thinking

Best of the Beast: yeah ok were not going for the league then

keep us nonmarked in the loop pls?

Twin #1: I don’t know how much we’ll get to know

The Plan™: plus you have a show to prep for

The Listener: Wow, I heard /that/ exclamation all the way down the hall.

[Best of the Beast set the nickname for Twin #1 to elephant that forgets]

Actual Dad™: Are you calling your mother an elephant?

Best of the Beast: i mean.

i thought she didnt forget things?

elephant that forgets: extenuating circumstances.

I gotta go do a Thing

Best of the Beast: good luck with that!!

16:16

Best of the Beast: so no one knos anything?

Sunshine Child: nope

sleepisfortheweak: I know what it is to not be recognised everywhere I go again

it’s beautiful

also, fuck tourists

Best of the Beast: that shows you

never become notorious

sleepisfortheweak: how was I to know what would happen!!

it was a shitty coping method!! I shouldn’t be famous for it!!

elephant that forgets: the trials of accidentally becoming an elite trainer

famousness is not a thing to be taken lightly

sleepisfortheweak: yah but like. you knew what you were getting into

The Listener: I think it must be a thing in this family, because a lot of people seem to know about Esther now as well

Best of the Beast: damn

three generations in

The Listener: They don’t know you as a NightGale, though, they know you as the Tooth Fairy

Best of the Beast: ok quick question

how

thE FUCK

are they talking to you about that???

The Listener: Oh, it was while we were in Azoth, you must have made an impression with your fighting I suppose.

Apparently we look alike in some way.

Best of the Beast: huh

i mean i suppose our mothers are twins

but ure far prettier

The Listener: … Thanks?

Best of the Beast: its true!

ive been punched in the face one too many times to be pretty

sleepisfortheweak: one could say you’re pretty… /striking/

Best of the Beast: …

17:27

Twin #2: I cant believe this is the top chat here

I figured yd have more of a social convo going than that

Best of the Beast: what.

Who dis

elephant that forgets: You couldn’t keep from snooping, huh

Twin #2: I just wanted to see what’s been going on!!

Not fucking much as it happens

Do I carry /all/ the interesting of this family now

The Listener: Morgan?

Best of the Beast: thE FRICK???!

[Twin #2 set her name to The Prodigal Son]

The Prodigal Son: o shit waddup

wait

Best of the Beast: WHAT THE HECK BOI

[The Prodigal Son set her name to Ya Boi]

Best of the Beast: THE FUCK YOU GO

Ya Boi: long story

elephant that forgets: don’t we know it

Ya Boi: oh i guess u have all been kept in the loop

more or less

Actual Dad™: Are you all safe?

Ya Boi: yeah. Yeah, were good.

tired af but well live

Best of the Beast: good

not that i cared

bc u kno

abandoned

no info

left to fend for ourselves

Ya Boi: i thought kari was keeping you in the loop?

Best of the Beast: !!!

first of all fuk u

[Best of the Beast set the name for Ya Boi to proDICKal son]

Best of the Beast: i didnt even kno she was with you what teh fuk

proDICKal son: you… you told us she was coming to join us

Best of the Beast: i didnt think shed gone with u!! fuk!!

thought shed just like. gone her own way when she found out u were all hopless nerds.

proDICKal son: tried to leave her with storm

how is he, by the way?

Best of the Beast: hes good

not that you fckn care

not that you DESERVE him

[proDICKal son set her name to nope]

nope: i mean. true. ive been trying to protect him

Best of the Beast: son yaint done shit

thats my job now

Actual Dad™: Where are you right now?

Best of the Beast: not with us thats for sure

[Best of the Beast set her name to storm protector]

nope: cruise ship

aunt phoe was coming over???

so like

were here to pick up her stuff i guess

storm protector: did

did she forget that aurora can /literally/ teleport

anywhere in the world

Sunshine Child: It isn’t as though she uses that skill much, I guess?

storm protector: fair

but like

????

The Listener: I really don’t understand what you’re trying to get at there, Esther.

storm protector: why would she buy TICKETS on a BOAT to get somwhere in a hurry??

like those things are slow af

why not plane???

why not phone first??

sleepisfortheweak: listen if I dropped my shit and flew whenever I thought the twins were in danger, I’d never have got anythign done

Maybe she thought it wasn’t /that/ big a deal when she set out? The world will never know

storm protector: we might if morgan ANSWERED

18:08

storm protector: also neither of the twins defending themselves??? iconic

elephant that forgets: sorry, Arlette can’t come to the phone right now

storm protector: what

elephant that forgets: because she’s dead.

storm protector: ...

The Plan™: It’s true, I saw it happen.

Shot through the heart by her own mother.

Actual Dad™: Truly dramatic.

She keeled over at the table. In the middle of eating, of all things.

PI Sleuth: That may have been a little bit drastic.

storm protector: and u didnt get a video

for shame

Sunshine Child: We’re eating! it would’ve been rude

storm protector: buddy, so’s using ure phone at the table in general

AND YET

sleepisfortheweak: it’s ok, I’m on good terms with Diaval, I’ll just let him know to resurrect her

Don’t think there’ll be that much change tbh

elephant that forgets: it’s ok, I can perform my masterpiece for you later

that was just the dress rehearsal, I’ll polish it for when we meet back up

also @cap fuckin’ ouch

sleepisfortheweak: hey I care

I could’ve just left you in the dirt

a corpse before your time

dead before your parents

how could you do that to us

elephant that forgets: but instead

you sell me out to the god of vampires

also you killed me??? so like I don’t think you have a leg to stand on

sleepisfortheweak: well, if it works

10:43

[nope set her name to hot shit]

hot shit: @esther, league right?

we’re coming in

storm protector: kk

ruins? or just

hot shit: nah bro clearly right in the centre of the champions room

what do you take us for

storm protector: morgan???

quit stealing phones dammit

hot shit: really?

you think this is him?

I am /hurt/

what kinda son of a snack do u think I am

storm protector: so thats Kari then

suddenly everything makes sense

hot shit: yeah ya mom thought id be more sensible than him

The Listener: More fool her, then.

hot shit: absolutely

storm protector: get out of

The Plan™: if you all kick back there for a while, we’re making our way over

storm protector: *out by the ruins

@Keone, Storm still has to do the league anyhow

The Plan™: By which I mean that our tour has its finale at the league in a couple or so days, which seems like a fitting end to this whole mess

[sleepisfortheweak set her name to sleepforaweek]

sleepforaweek: catch you in my dreams

or nigHTMARES

elephant that forgets: listen if you sleep lightly enough to be woken by chat noises, you should maybe

mute the chat?

sleepforaweek: I appreciate that you thought I was asleep

elephant that forgets: just a suggestion like

Actual Dad™: Or you could turn your phone off

sleepforaweek: these are sensible suggestions

that I am going to continue ignoring

y’all aint the boss of me

storm protector: *yaint

sleepforaweek: See, you get me

Esther’s my favourite

storm protector: hot shit

hot shit: you called?

(Aurora, btdubs)

Sunshine Child: That was a little bit creepy

please don’t

hot shit: couldn’t resist

but really @tooth we’ve arrived

21:03

rip in pieces: fuck it’s good to have my phone back

wait

why is that my name

storm protector: bc u were dead to us

obviously

The Listener: It’s good to have you back properly, Morgan

storm protector: until ure next fuckery, at least

rip in pieces: did you miss the part where that wasnt my fault?

storm protector: idk did u miss the part where i didnt care

Sunshine Child: ouch

rip in pieces: ilu tooth

ilu all

storm protector: thats sweet

whos got ure phone now?

is that scruff has he learned to type

ilu scruff!!!!

rip in pieces: Why can I not profess my love for my family

Whomst I have not seen in a couple of weeks

Why can I not do that? Why must my identity be questioned?

Why do you not believe that this is me, that this is who I am?

storm protector: cap needs to teach me how her eyebrow trick

hang on

The Listener: What is going on?

[selfie style pic of Esther and Morgan; Morgan (still in his aether uniform, hair teased out of its usual ringlets and only sort of tied back) trying to look disgruntled but failing as Esther (in a tank top that says “I flexed so hard the sleeves fell off”, with bright orange hair, her right eye beginning to swell) sprawls across his chest, clearly trying to be in the way as much as possible, grinning wildly]

storm protector: i just had to give summer The Eyebrow in person

but actually it was him, so now were bonding

rip in pieces: oh yes Tooth, you are the best and I love you and this bonding is simply the best you must never bdsfljsf

The Listener: So I’m going back to my book.

Sunshine Child: g’night! I have a level to complete

01:17

[rip in pieces set his name to a gift]

a gift:

sleepforaweek

: Get your arse to sleep, you must be shattered

a gift: aye cap, I’m going

01:55

sleepforaweek: I’m glad you’re all safe, though

Thanks for making this chat, Esther