#Everyone else I have to put in all of the ducking effort and I’m tired and I’m done

[womenwithhighstandards]

Pls ignore this-

[your-queer-dad]

parents and school and everything is getting a hell of a lot more dangerous for me way fast I’m trans in Florida with a fuck ton of disorders I send stuff here to vent a lot never sign my shit so you probably don’t recognize me by my situation or typing cause a lot of people here vent about similar stuff but I said before things are dangerous I don’t have safe spaces or people but there’s this new kid in class and our schools hella bigoted the kids were joking about nazi shit again and this guy was like dude why are y’all so racist and stuff and it was such a shock hearing someone else say somethin when I first went to this school I tired reporting kids and talking to them and explaining etc nothing worked they don’t care teachers are worse then the kids etc and I got rlly nervous about it cause I get assaulted and bullied alot and they all made fun of me and said I was paranoid it’s just jokes I have my head up my ass and I’m like truamadumping by explaining why bigotry is bad not even using my experiences!! so after a couple months I stopped talking but this one new guy just completely called it out in the smoothest way possible and then when everyone tried making excuses he was like nah that’s stupid actually anyway my parents are getting more dangrous and I’m struggling with my health and trying to get them to actually make appointments with the fucking doctors so my medical shit doesn’t catch up to me and mess me up more and I still don’t have a job or drivers license I’m seventeen trying to get hours for the license and trying to get medically ok enough to put effort towards the hours and a job and getting my homework done that a whole thing I’m in so many classes this year and it’s to much work and the classes are at the same time so no matter what I have to miss a lesson etc anyway I’m so stressed everything’s going to shit basically but this one kid is nice lowkey and mentally I’m doing better I used to be a lot worse due to stress but I stop blaming myself and proriize my health and manage to make things slightly better with my routine by fighting for years with my parents and it finally paid off sort of it’s really weird now things are so much more dangerous and I’m the most scared ever but also mentally clear the most I’ve ever been I can actually feel lonely and hungry and thirsty and process the emotions I couldn’t do that before and I’m in less pain generally my plans are paying off years and years of planning and working and just like locking in and trusting my gut no matter what anyone does to me I’m happy I was right I would eventually meet someone who wasn’t racist and I did and even if things are more dangerous now and everything’s gone to shit at school and home I have what I need to really flip shit around I just need to rest and get a little more energy to pull it off

also there’s a whole thing with like my parents putting me in situations wheee they knew I’d get hurt and assaulted then they leave me to it I’ve almost died a lot because of medical neglect I need to be like not put through extreme stress assaults intense sports and getting threatened to get killed and etc but hey that never stopped them new schools new intense extra curriculars with people who hurt me in every kind of way and leave me to die being put in places that work against my mental disorders leaving me to fail and then blaming me when it happens or when I try to get out or talk my way out or go to the bathroom so I can calm down from panic attacks and getting ducking assaulted just to be followed in the bathroom and assaulted there to :/ and when I tell my parents I get hit with the “well high school is hard for everyone” not even a full talk just that sentence then I get ignored again also I’ve also been assaulted by my parents so that’s fun/sarcastic “but it’s ok because it’s just family and just roughhousing and just a joke and no one means anything by it this is just what family family is allowed to get touchy does but don’t tell anyone because you know how people are” it really is the home stretch now everything I’ve worked for is paying off and I have the tools to get what u need to leave and get support I just need to stick it out and figure out the specifics and then actually go do it things feel weird physically and mentally I’m dissociating less so I process more and by body feels all different I feel emotional when people are mean to me and lonely to and there’s so much but also when I hit my limit I can’t tell because it doesn’t hurt like before cause I’m not like fatally fucked over anymore it’s weird

anyway I love you dude you’ve really helped being listened to is hella validating thanks dad 🫂

Hey kiddo, gosh I am so so sorry you have to go through all of that. That's awful and you don't deserve any of that. You don't deserve to be treated like that, by your classmates or your parents. And I wish I could take all that pain away from you. I know it sounds cliche but I promise you things will get better. You're seventeen, you're almost there I promise you please hang on til it gets better. There is hope and you deserve all the hope and happiness in the world. 🫂🫂🫂

- dad x

[primewritessmut]

Fucking around with a prompt I saw for Malevolent but have repurposed for SpideyPool bc I have brain rot. (Ugh. Save me.)

Wade Wilson is a mercenary that works for The Organization (very ominous) and he completes missions with the help of a handler. A comms person in his ear feeding him intel and keeping him in line. He's recently been assigned a new handler.

/scene start/

“Take a left at the next street, then an immediate right.”

A muscle in Wade’s shoulder blade twitches as the voice crackles into his ear. This new comms guy is fine, but he’s still not used to hearing someone that isn’t Cable on the line. Wade and Cable had an understanding that this new guy wouldn’t know anything about.

It’s the height of fucking absurdity that Wade is just supposed to roll with some noob rattling instructions into his ear. He and Cable had trust. Namely, Cable trusted that Wade would do the most unhinged thing possible in any given situation and Wade trusted that Cable would be able to get him out of it.

There’s no trust with what’s-his-face. Her face. Their face?

Wade doesn’t fucking know and that’s the whole point. He’d put effort into making sure that he and Cable could work together flawlessly. Yeah, Cable hadn’t exactly been ecstatic that Wade had stalked enthusiastically followed Cable for a year, but that was just business sometimes.

Now Wade has to start all over again. Fuck th—

“Left. Now.”

Wade cranks the bike to the left, putting his foot down as the back end fishtails him around the arc and he can gun it down the alley.

“Right. Now.”

Wade skids again, the back wheel clipping the corner of the building and nearly dumping him onto his face.

“Your other right. Christ.”

“Well,” Wade grunts, muscling the bike back into balance. “Guess I’m takin’ a shortcut.”

The only response is a cute little growl followed by the sounds of frantic key tapping and aggressive paper shuffling.

That’s more like it.

Wade can’t have his new handler letting the title go to their head. No one handles Wade.

Wade is unhandleable.

“U-turn at the next light. Aim for Benton Street.”

“Sure thing, Siri.”

The traffic light switches to green just as Wade shoots out of the alley. He cuts behind a older model truck running the intersection then banks the motorcycle hard, nearly dumping it before coaxing it into a half-circle.

“Benton, Benton, Benton,” Wade mutters to himself, eyes scanning the street signs.

“Between the Starbucks and the hair salon.”

The tires on the bike grab just as that corporate green and white mermaid catches Wade’s eye. He eases off the throttle to get the bike pointed in the right direction, then cranks it back again, speeding between coffee and coifs.

“Where to now, Google Maps?”

Wade is pretty sure that’s the sound of teeth grinding. It puts a little smile on his face, and he has to use most of his willpower not to wiggle in the seat. He does wiggle a little though because he’s not a puritan.

Cable would have given Wade a stern talking to by this point, reminded Wade that he’s doing this for the greater good, that he needs to protect everyone else in the organization by not getting caught, scolded him for leaving a weapon at the scene.

blah blah blah

yada yada yada

He might actually be able to get behind a comms runner that doesn’t sit in his ear like Jiminy Fucking Cricket and judge him the whole time. That’s the ticket. He needs to think about this like being freed from oppression. The next time he wants to take a tooth as a trophy or de-glove somebody’s hand before killing them, there won’t be anyone to say no.

“Duck.”

“Wha—?”

A hot line of pain sears across the outside of Wade’s shoulder and he looks down to see blood oozing from a bullet wound, dripping down the sleeve of his leather jacket. Well… not his leather jacket.

“I just stole this jacket,” he whines.

“DUCK, asshole,” the voice barks in his ear and Wade is leaning over the handlebars, knees gripped tight to the gas tank, before his brain can even process the words.

Ungh.

Okay.

A bullet shatters a shop window to Wade’s left and he quickly readjusts his perspective.

If Wade’s new comms guy can get him out of this alive, he might be willing to give it a chance.

After all, he usually pays $1.99 a minute to get someone to talk to him like that.

[madalice31]

I swear, there’s nothing that I’m afraid of more than being afraid of what police could do to my autistic younger brother. He is 6’4, 31 years old, and imposing physically but he is a gentle giant. That’s not what these racist police officers will see tho. They will see a “thug” “a problem” “a threat”. Simply because he’s black.

Sonya Massey lost her life because a biased police officer felt threatened by a pot of hot water, EVEN as she said I’m sorry while ducking because SHE was scared and also schizophrenic. At no point in time did she “come at him”. She ducked. Y’all know what happened. I’m not even about to rehash it.

My point is that I’m tired. What are we going to do? Don’t tell me about a hashtag or saying someone’s name. I’m sorry, but I’m tired of saying names. What are we going to do to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen to us? What are we going to do to make sure there are no more names?! I don’t want to wake up and it’s my brother next. Joe Biden talking about this shows how black people have to fear for their safety in a way that no one else does. No shit Sherlock. We’ve been saying that for literal years. We told y’all our lives mattered and you dismissed us by saying everyone’s life matters. But as Joe just told you, “everyone” doesn’t go through the same shit we do. But you know what he doesn’t talk about? What he plans on doing to make sure that’s no longer a problem. Don’t tell me that you get my plight but then you don’t do shit about it.

Police departments across this nation do not put enough effort into putting their officers through rigorous psychological evaluations and bias checks. They don’t train these men and women to know how to interact with people of all backgrounds. They force them to see a psychiatrist after an incident, but never before. And when they do something wrong, they crowd around each other, talking about blue lives. It’s a fucking job that you can quit or lose at any time! It’s not your life! It should never be your life! A doctor is not going to defend another doctor who has botched so many surgeries that his license has been revoked. There’s no excuse. So why do police give each other excuses? Why do they act like they can do no wrong? If you that scared then get another fucking job.

And unless there’s a situation that is just obviously wrong, like in the case of Sonya, they do not get punished for the biases and racism that they display.

If an officer knows he’s getting 20-life just for killing a black man, no matter what that black man did. Just straight up life in prison for killing anyone period. Either we’ll have a lot less people becoming police or a lot of police in prison. And what message do you think that will send to the rest of them? I guarantee there will be a decline in police interactions that end in violence or death. Provide thorough training and psych evals to make sure it doesn’t happen. And if it does, throw the fucking book at them so they know how serious you are. Y’all do that to our black men all the time but can’t hold your own colleagues accountable?

THIS is why “blue lives matter” is so dangerous. It makes police feel like they are above the law and have to care more about their “brother’s in blue” than the people they are supposed to be protecting.

In the case of Sonya, that officer’s partner should have been yelling at him to stop and to chill out and asking him what the fuck his problem was. His partner knew nothing about that situation had escalated to the point of pulling weapons. He didn’t even have his weapon out until his partner pulled his. But he sits there in silence as his partner behaves in a way that is very obviously racist/biased against this woman. As far as I’m concerned, his partner should have been arrested and charged as well for idlely standing by. I don’t care that he stayed after the fact, I don’t care that he offered to get a med kit. He should have said something BEFORE his partner decided to walk around a corner to shoot a woman who’s DUCKING OUT OF FEAR. In the face, just as he told her he would. His mind was made up. She called for help and they treated her like she was the problem. The house is going to catch fire over boiling water? It shouldn’t have even been anything to pay attention to. But he walks in and see a black woman, expects an attitude, expects a hard time, expects her to be combative because that’s what he thinks black people are. He acted accordingly.

This is not new and I am tired of the same shit happening over and over. I’m in tears over this shit. My heart is broken over this shit. Because there’s a genuine fear that even if you call for help, you will end up being the victim of the people who are supposed to help you.

I can’t confidently tell my younger brother to call the police if he’s ever in trouble or need help. Because they will see him and immediately act like he needs to be taken down. I can’t even think about it without emotions rising.

Meanwhile a white man takes a police officer’s baton and beats her with it but at no point does she or her partner pull a gun. They sit and they struggle and tussle with him to the point where he gets in THEIR car and drives off. Sounds comical, but it happened. Google it, im sure the footage is still out there.

You see the very stark difference? You think a black man doing all that would have made it out of that situation alive?

So what we doing? Sonya deserves way more.

I’m sorry this happened to you Queen. I’m sorry that this happened to your family and friends and all your loved ones. I’m sorry they have to mourn you over something so senseless. You deserved so much better. Your life mattered.

Y’all take this how you want. I know y’all keep talking bout ain’t none of us free till we all free, but I think it’s time we stop being so caught up in everyone else’s problems and focus on our own because it’s not like we’ve solved them and it’s not like anyone else is trying to help us solve them. We still got the plank of wood in our eye, blinding us, but still attempting to get dust out of someone else eye.

So how about we eliminate all the injustices that WE deal with, then worry about justice for everyone else! Let’s start there.

So what we doing for OUR community? How do we make sure this shit doesn’t happen ever again?

[maerenee930]

random thoughts.

just kinda venting. need to get some thoughts and feelings out of my head/off of my chest 😓

also heads up, i do talk about anxiety and depression and i do swear a little bit.

(not that i’m really expecting anyone to read this lol.)

apologies in advance for sounding whiny, obnoxious and/or annoying. also i know only i can change things for myself and have to be willing to put in the effort to change things for myself if i really and truly do want them to change. i just haven’t really talked with anyone about how i’m feeling in a minute cause i don’t want to bother anyone or come off as whiny and annoying so i’m getting those thoughts and feelings out on here so i can just get them out of my head. and hoping it’ll help with this heavy/weighted feeling on and in my chest right now. (thanks to my depression and anxiety.)

so much going on in my head and so much unnecessary anxiety right now.

i feel like i’m going crazy.

fucking hell, i just feel like i am crazy lol.

it just feels like there’s so much going on and i can’t handle all of it.

too much overthinking and the more i do over think, the worse everything feels and the more i feel that i’m just making everything worse.

i can’t even focus on one thought for too long/long enough to kind of like calm it down or figure out why it’s bothering me and what i need to do to fix it because my anxiety kicks in even harder and so i stop feeling anxiety about that specific thing, my brain switches to something else so i don’t fixate on that last thing and it just goes on and on with anything i think about.

i’m tired of my brain being like this. and i’m just really tired of my brain lol.

i’m tired of feeling like i’m drowning and can barely keep my head above the water.

i’m tired of feeling like and making myself feel like i am going crazy or just straight up am crazy 😣

i’m really fucking tired of feeling so overwhelmed by everything (or what feels like mostly everything) and that i can’t keep up with it all.

i’m just really fucking tired.

i so fucking tired of my depression making me feel worthless randomly or that i’m just in everyone’s way or that everyone would be better off if i weren’t here

big side note!! most times it more like mean if i left and ran away, other times it’s more like not here at all/all together and permanently. which makes me feel worse because i fucking hate that i even think like that or could even feel that way about myself and fuuuuuck!! i’m just really goddamn fucking sick and tired of my mental health being what it is/so fucking shitty and am so fucking tired of my brain being broken.

i have so many other thoughts and feelings i want to get out but don’t feel like rambling more and don’t want to focus on this feeling anymore. i just want to exist and fucking not worry about anything and just fucking like let myself live my goddamn life in ducking peace!

and there’s just too much too talk about and i can’t focus on one thing long enough to feel like i’m fully able to get out everything i want to and to make it all make sense.

and fuck! it all feels just really so fucking overwhelming 😖😭😭

[tumbledfreckles]

Stupid

For @flowercrownroman Prompt: Hogwarts Jily - before they were dating but while they were on good terms, maybe an interaction where James sticks up for her and she gives the "I can handle myself'' argument. 

Hope you like it!  (2.5k)

“Evans.” 

Lily kept walking, hoping she was far enough down the corridor that he’d assume she couldn’t hear him. 

“Oi, Evans!” 

Her pace increased, she was almost to the corner. Once there, she could duck into a bathroom and hide until the coast was clear. 

“Lily, I know you can hear me. Wait up.” 

Lily sighed as she came to a halt. Used the precious few seconds she had until he was upon her to wave her wand several times, feeling magic spread over her features, soothing her skin.

James was already stopped in front of her when she turned around, less than a foot away. “Finally, Evans. Where’s the fire?” 

“In the dungeons,” She did her best to smirk. Judging by the frown on James’ face, it wasn’t a great effort. “What are you doing? You’re not on rounds tonight.” 

She would know, given she was on duty.

“Kitchen raid,” James reached up to ruffle his hair, looking a bit sheepish. “Remus needed chocolate.” 

Lily’s features softened immediately, “He’s out of the Wing?” 

James nodded, “Just after dinner.” 

“How’s he doing?” 

“Bit rough,” James shrugged. “You know Remus, he won’t complain until it’s pretty much death’s door.” 

“Yeah,” Lily nodded. “Sounds like him. Give him my love, will you? And let him know I’ve got notes from Runes. Merlin knows, Peter’s probably aren’t any use to him. I’m pretty sure he fell asleep five minutes into the lecture.” 

“Sounds about right,” James said with a laugh. 

Lily felt her cheek start to tingle and frowned internally. The glamours shouldn’t have been wearing off that quickly. She mustn’t have focused enough when she was casting. Or there were too many in quick succession. Time to go, in any case. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your mission then.” 

James didn’t move, a crease between his brows. “Everything alright, Evans? You look a bit peaky.” 

“Yeah, fine,” Lily tried her best to smile. “Tired, is all. Shift’s almost over though.” 

He still didn't leave, though she willed him too. “Have you had any trouble?” 

Lily shook her head quickly, vehemently. “Hardly seen a soul.” 

“Right,” James looked even more suspicious. “Even in the dungeons?” 

His question was too pointed. Too knowing. Lily’s heart started to beat faster. “Guess I’ve been lucky,” she said carefully. “Quiet night.” 

“Lucky’s not the word, I don’t think,” James’ hand reached forward, toward her face. Toward the spreading tingle that now covered half of it. “Evans -” 

Lily cut in before he could start his next question. “What are you doing down this way, anyway? The kitchens are on the other side of the castle.” 

“I, uh,” James ruffled his hair again. “I saw you as I crossed the main corridor, I guess. Wanted to check in.” 

“I didn’t come from the main corridor,”  Lily had used a secret passage to get to this floor. One she wasn’t even sure the Marauders knew about. 

“Really, huh,” James’ eyes darted away from her, before settling back on her face. “I could have sworn I saw you.” 

“Were you following me?” Lily knew she was onto something when James ruffled his hair for a third time. “Why were you following me?” 

“I don’t know, Evans,” James’ voice was scornful, harsh, where before it had been light. The change made her blink. But his next words stopped her in her tracks. “Why were you talking to four baby Death Eaters down in the dungeons just now?” 

Lily paled, or she would have, had she not been covered in glamours. Glamours that were fading by the second, if the tingles that had now spread across her entire face were anything to go by. She took a step back, and then another. Used the wand hidden in the folds of her robes to surreptitiously strengthen the charms. “They were out after hours. I was directing them back to their Common Room.” 

James followed her, step for step. “And they went? Just like that?” 

“You say that like they wouldn’t listen to the Head Girl,” Lily lifted her chin in challenge. 

“That lot wouldn’t listen to me, and I’m a pure-” James cut off before he finished the word. 

But Lily knew what he would have said, “Pureblood? They won’t listen to another pureblood, even one that’s Head Boy, is that what you were going to say? They won’t listen to the pureblood Head Boy, so why would they listen to the Mudblood Head Girl?” 

“Don’t say that,” James’ teeth clenched, the tick in his jaw, always a sign of barely concealed anger, jumping out at her. 

“It’s just a word, Potter,” Lily gritted her own teeth, biting the inside of her lip to prevent any tears from falling. 

She’d shed enough tears already tonight. 

“You shouldn’t let them-” 

“Let them, what? Insult me? Degrade me? Put down my family, my home, my magic?” Lily felt angry, sounded angry, even though she knew she wasn’t directing it to the right person. “They don’t exactly need permission, Potter.” 

“Evans,” James took another step toward her. “What happened down there?” 

“How do you even know they were there? That I saw them?” Lily took a step away. “Were you spying on me?  I told you not to use that bloody map to spy on me.”

“I wasn’t!” he insisted. “I was checking if Filch was about, so I could get Remus’ chocolate, and I just happened to see the impromptu meeting outside Sluggy’s room.”

“And you thought you’d glide on in, save me like the white knight you think you are?” Lily wasn’t sure why she was attacking him. He’d clearly worried about her, enough that he’d come looking. It made her heart clench inside her chest, warmth flood her chilled body. And yet she was attacking him.  

Meanwhile the tingles had started again. It really was not her night. 

James hands balled into fists at his side. “I wasn’t trying to rescue you. I just wanted to make sure they didn’t give you any grief.” 

“They didn’t,” she lied blatantly. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” 

“I know you can,” he was quiet. “That’s not what this is about.” 

“Well, great,” Lily started to turn, knowing she had seconds left before her concealment charms faded. “Off to the kitchens with you, then. And then back to the Tower. I never saw you.” She waved listlessly, not waiting for his reply before taking several hurried steps. 

“There’s blood on your hand.”

Lily froze, facing away from him. She looked down, realised that indeed her left hand was smeared with red. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s ink,” she said with a raised voice. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing,” James reached out, pulling on her shoulder to turn her before she could stop him, her attention still caught by the blood on her hand. “Evans-” 

He stopped, eyes on her face, widening so comically Lily would have laughed if she hadn’t felt on the verge of tears. Tears of panic, anger and overwhelming bloody despair. It was extraordinarily clear that the glamour charms she’d cast had failed spectacularly and he could now see what she had been desperate to hide. 

“Lily, what happened?”

His eyes roamed over her face, taking in the swelling and no doubt bruising around her right eye. The blood that ran from her nose, still fresh, trailing off her lips, her chin. The painful welts of a burn that encircled her neck, in the shape of hands despite a wand having carried out the action. The rip in the front of her shirt, also smeared in blood from the large gash underneath. The blood had transferred to her hand when she’d tried to hold herself together. 

“Nothing,” Lily said. She backed up several steps, her eyes on his as he stood frozen. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. Worse than it looks, you should see the other guy. All that kind of thing. I’ve got to finish rounds, I’ll see you -” 

“Stop,” James had caught her before she could turn again. Before she could hightail it out of there, recast the charms and pretend this had never happened. “You are not fine.” 

Another step had her back against the wall. Nowhere left to run. She refused to meet his gaze, not wanting to see the concern. The pity. She focused on his left ear instead. “It’s nothing.” 

“It is not nothing.” 

“Leave it, Potter. It’s naught to do with you.” 

His expression darkened, “I’ll fucking kill them.” 

“No, you won’t,” Lily’s eyes flew to his now, as her hand reached out to grip his forearm, preventing him from following through on his words. 

“Evans, they can’t get away with this,” James looked as distressed as she felt, but for a different reason. “We have to go to Dumbledore.” 

“You can’t,” Lily’s eyes flashed, her hand held him tighter. It should have been painful by now, but James looked as if he couldn’t even feel her. “You can’t tell anyone.” 

“What are you talking about, Evans?” James shook his head. “You’re Head Girl. They can’t just do this.” 

“Exactly,” her chin lifted, her face set. “I’m Head Girl. No one can know.” 

“You’re not making sense.” 

“They bested me, Potter,” tears pricked at her eyes as she croaked the words out. They were tight in her throat, making a hoarse, rasping sound. “They bested me, and I’m the Head Girl. If they can best me, they can best anyone. No one can know.” 

“It was four on one. You can’t expect to win with four on one.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” He didn’t get it. She had to make him understand. “That part doesn’t matter. All that the students will remember, is that those cowards picked a fight with the Head Girl, the Muggleborn Head Girl, and they won. Muggleborns are going to be terrified, and everyone else isn’t going to want to cross them. Worse, they might join them, just so they aren’t next. We can’t let that happen.” She pulled on his wrist, urging him to agree. “James, no one can know.” 

He watched her for a long time. His eyes held hers, searching them. She could see the wealth of emotions flicking through his gaze as he processed what she’d said. Anger, of course, so furious, so raw it seemed like he was burning. Disbelief, reluctance, defiance. A general unwillingness to go along with her request. Sadness, as his eyes flicked over her again, concern and worry taking over his expression. 

Lily dropped her head before she could see the pity. 

Who wouldn’t pity her? She was weak, pathetic, a failure. She was meant to be a symbol of hope, a sign that the Death Eater’s were wrong. She was meant to be so strong, so powerful, so talented, that no one could ever doubt her place in this world. She was meant to be faultless, flawless, infallible. 

She had failed. 

A touch to her cheek, careful and timid, brought her back to him. James held her face gently in his palm, using his thumb to lift her chin even higher. He wasn’t looking at her face, Lily realised, as she tried to look at his. His attention was focused on her neck, his other hand bringing his wand tip to her neck. Even the lightest contact to the fragile skin made her whimper. 

“Sorry,” James muttered. “Just, hold still a sec.” Almost as soon as he’d finished speaking a coolness spread across her neck. It was a welcome relief, taking the pain away with it. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, looking up at him. He was closer than she thought he’d ever been before. It was almost possible to count his eyelashes behind his glasses, he was so close. 

“I’m not finished.” He used his thumb to move her head this way and that, prodding and casting in succession. 

Lily felt the magic wash over her again and again, and with each wave, the pain lessened. Her shoulders sagged in relief as the tension rained away with the pain. She felt his wand move to her stomach, where the biggest slicing hex had hit her, and tried not to react as he carefully pulled her shirt up, eyes flicking to hers until she nodded her permission, to see what needed to be done. His hand was warm on her skin, and despite the situation, Lily wasn’t surprised to find she didn’t mind his touch. 

Welcomed it, really. 

“Have I missed anything?” Her shirt dropped back down but his hand stayed where it was on her side. His gaze roamed over her again, finally meeting her eyes again. There was not pity there, only concern. Concern, and caring, and something else that she couldn’t quite name. She only knew it made her feel warm. 

Lily shook her head, “Think that was it. Thank you.” 

James shrugged, “You don’t need to thank me. I care about you. You know that.” 

“I do know that. And I care about you,” she attempted a smile. ”How things have changed this year.”  

“Not so far if you’re still trying to hide stuff from me.” 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she reached for his arm again, but ended up holding his hand. “I knew you wouldn’t want to keep it quiet.” 

He threaded his fingers into hers, squeezing even as he sighed heavily. “I want them to pay. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.” 

“You can’t,” Lily started. She reached up, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, off his glasses. “I don’t want people to think that I’m not every bit as deserving of magic as they are.” 

“You’re being stupid. No one will think that.” His fingers smoothing up and down her side, clenching on her hip. She tried not to shiver at the contact. He was looking at her in the way that made her feel warm again.  

Lily didn’t try to argue with him. Instead, she braced a hand on his chest, pushing up onto her tiptoes to make up the difference in their heights. With James already looking down at her, it didn’t take much to press her lips to his. The touch was soft, sweet, a balm to the terror she’d felt much earlier in the night. 

“What was that for?” James asked when she pulled back, dropping down onto her heels. He looked 

Her hand stayed on his chest, fingers curled into his robes as she smiled. “You said I was being stupid. Thought I may as well live up to it.” 

His lips twitched at both ends, “Kissing me is stupid?” 

She nodded, slowly, her grin widening. “Very.” 

James leaned down, so close their noses brushed. “Care to be stupid again? I could get on board with that kind of stupid.” 

“In for a penny, in for a -” Lily didn’t even get to finish the saying before James’ hand buried in her hair and his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her firm against him as his lips captured hers again. 

[thran-duils]

And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.4)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 3,561 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You and Tony had stared at each other – you down at him and him up at you. It had felt good, fucking him. You had surpassed the real intimacy of a relationship – something the two of you had never had – straight to physical. It was how you normally did things, but it had just taken longer this time than a one-night stand.

But this was different. This was your husband.

You had a deeper connection now. You were startled out of your desire for this to be continuous.

And suddenly by your own doing, the two of you were apart, you standing yourself and him sitting, and you brushed at your hair, uncomfortable before turning for your clothes just to try to escape this unfamiliar territory. Normally, you would say something witty, grab your clothes, and leave. But there was no leaving him. You slept in the same bed. Even if that bed itself had not been christened by the two of you yet.

Tony was off the couch and came up to grasp your arms, stopping you and you looked up at him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The words fell around you. And your breath was short, working yourself up again. Tony saw it too and his thumbs caressed your arms, peering in closer. It was not threatening the way he was acting – comforting more than anything.

“I’m here… I’m here to be with you,” he started slowly, stumbling though. He was a man after all in the mafia, raised with the toxic masculinity that came with it. He was trying to navigate his feelings and be soft with you as well. “I want you to feel safe with me. In all aspects.”

It was intimate. And it was reassuring to know that he was making the effort to move even deeper with it. It was exciting. But you still wanted to be guarded.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you answered. Your eyes shot down and then you said, thinking on your feet, “We are both just naked in this room… standing in front of each other. I want my clothes. In case someone walks in.”

Tony’s eyes shot down and he gave a strangled laugh. “Right.” He let you go.

You gave a half smile before you ducked down and grabbed your bra, doing it up. Tony followed suit, beginning to dress himself back up. And then you grabbed your dress. You pulled it over your head and turned around promptly, “Zip me?”

The complete opposite of what you had asked merely ten minutes ago.

Tony cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

He zipped it up and his hands rested around the base of your neck. You were only suspended for a few moments before you turned around to face him again, your faces close. His slacks were back on, belt done, but his dress shirt half buttoned up, that drew your eyes for a split second.

“This is awkward,” he acknowledged sheepishly.

“Yeah,” you agreed and then cleared your own throat. “Um, let’s exit separately. That would seem normal to everyone else. Don’t want to shock them and all.”

He was amused, giving a little laugh, “Right. Don’t forget your thong though.”

“And there you go being the ass that I know,” you retorted, going to grab it and shimmying into it as he gave another laugh.

<><><>

You saw Bucky and Rhodey watching you come back out, curiosity painted on their faces. They had seen how angry Tony had been taking you back into the room and now that you were coming out alone, that was sure to draw their attention. Shit. Tony should have walked out first. You looked away quickly walking past their table and going back to where your friends were sitting before they could stop you.

Moving through the center of the group, you sat back down, adjusting your dress but did not miss the white-hot stares you were receiving from your circle of friends. You met their gazes and leveled them before giving an expectant shrug.

“Where did you go?” one of them asked.

“Nowhere,” you answered simply. You picked up one of your bottles on the table and began pouring shots. “Let’s drink.”

Another friend answered with a giggle, “She went somewhere with her husband.”

You glowered, stalling in pouring the shots, and asked, “So?”

“Did you finally give it up then? Because you’re being defensive. Oh, look, here he comes.”

Following their gaze, you saw Tony walking out now. He was being as normal as you, no sign of a smirk on his face. But then he did give it away. His gaze did flick over to you and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before he looked away again.

“You totally did,” your same friend crowed.

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to kick you out of the VIP section!” you threatened her.

“Touchy, touchy! Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s done. And so is your honeymoon officially!”

“Ass,” you snapped as you passed the shots out.

<><><>

Tony sat down at the booth and straightened out his suit jacket. “Where are the shots?”

“Well, we took them without you because you were gone for so long,” Natasha said with a twinkle in her eye.

“There’s plenty of alcohol in this bar. I should know. Where’s our bar—”

Someone showed up at the table, dress in the staff uniform and asked, “What’ll it be, Mr. Stark?”

“A round for the table. Bourbon.”

Natasha and Bucky protested. “No, vodka, please.”

“Fine, bourbon and vodka. Just bring two bottles, everyone has their glasses already. Blanton’s and Grey Goose.”

The server nodded, “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

As soon as they walked off, Tony looked around the table again. And they all averted their eyes. Sighing annoyed, he asked – even though he had a good idea already what was going on – , “What is it?”

Clint took the dive for everyone else and tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, “You look… not pissed off.”

“And?” he asked with a sharp edge to his voice. “Do I always look pissed off?”

“Yes,” came the chorus around the table and he frowned, displeased.

Unable to help himself, Bucky chortled, “You fucked,” as Rhodey cracked a wide smile at his statement.

“Be respectful,” Tony snapped at them.

Bucky closed his mouth, biting his cheeks as Tony took a long swig of his drink.

“Respectful? You’re the one that’s been complaining she sleeps turned away from you!” Rhodey said, still laughing lightly. “I was frankly getting tired of hearing about it. This is good news for everyone.”

“You’re welcome then,” Tony muttered to everyone’s continued amusement as the server came back with their bottles. He thanked them and took the bottles, beginning to pour everyone their own respective shots.

“To the King and Queen then,” Natasha proposed, holding up her shot glass.

<><><>

A few weeks later, there was commotion at the front door, and you put your book down before sliding out of the recliner you were in. You could hear Tony; he was angry, ranting. You came into the entrance hall cautiously and found him storming up the stairs. He stopped and was shouting still back at Steve, something about making sure that the car was destroyed and far from the city.

He noticed you were standing there suddenly and that is when you got a full view of his face. He was scraped up.

“Christ, what happened?” you asked him worriedly, coming closer to the bottom of the stairs between him and Steve. Steve took the hint and told Tony he would make sure it happened and turned on his heel to leave.

To you, Tony said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He began to turn to go up the stairs further.

You followed quickly, “You don’t look fine. Here, let me help.” He started to protest but you were already there, going past him. You stole another glance and saw there were scraps by his eyebrow and upper cheek, bleeding still. “There’s a kit in the guest bathroom. That’s closest. Come on.”

Tony followed you and you told him to sit on the toilet. He did as you said, looking hesitant. You dipped to grab underneath the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. Working quickly, you got the hydrogen peroxide as well and used the cotton balls to wipe at his face. He hissed and you apologized gently, dabbing with care.

“What happened?” you asked again as you wiped at the cuts.

“It doesn’t—”

“Tony.”

He ground his teeth for a few seconds before saying, “I almost got run over.”

You stilled and pulled away to meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“One of Weston’s guys.” You knew Weston. He ran an outfit outside the city, smaller but it was influential for keeping the borders secure.

“Weston?” you asked in disbelief. As far as you knew, he did not have any issue with Tony.

“I don’t know. We were working at a site and all of a sudden I heard someone coming in quick and Thor shoved me out of the way.” Your heart clenched and he saw. “He’ll be fine. He got nicked and it sent him spiraling. If it had been one of us, we would have had broken bones. He’s shaken up and bloodied, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s good,” you said dropping the cotton balls into the trash and moving towards the bandaids and antibiotic ointment. “But, did Weston send him?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly. “I don’t think so. The guy is someone who had an issue with me personally. Seems his brother got killed or something in a recent raid. Wanda and Rhodey were interrogating the guy after Steve forced me to come back here in case there were other people gunning for me.”

“That was smart of him,” you said tapping the ointment onto the cuts. “I’m glad he brought you back.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony asked with a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, I would like you to always come back alive if you could manage that for me,” you retorted, opening up a bandaid. You bandaged up the worst of it and added for good measure, “And if you could be more cognizant of your surroundings that would be a good place to start to make sure that happens….”

Turning away from him, you heard him give a light chuckle at your quip. You felt the air shift behind you, and you closed the kit, pushing it back further on the counter.

You made to ignore how close he was and walked towards the door, but he was quicker, grabbing your arm and stilling your movement. His other hand grasped the door, and he threw it closed before turning you around and holding you against it. Staring up at him, you stayed still, waiting for him to make his move.

“I’ll take that into consideration, just for you. I’ll keep my head on a swivel. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a good plan.”

Tony’s lips curled into a smile before he leaned in and you followed his movement, coming in to kiss him softly. He hummed in approval, his hands ghosting up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you wrapped your arms tight to paw at his ass through his pants. He liked that by the noise he released, and you sucked in at his bottom lip. Pinning your wrists above your head, his lips dragging roughly over yours. You bit at him now in a mock threat, and he chuckled before capturing you in a passionate kiss. Your pelvis ground towards him and your tongue slipped into his mouth, swirling. The two of you were locked in a passionate dance.

Tony groaned, pulling away as you brushed his length through his slacks with your thigh. He turned you around in a fluid motion, keeping your wrists pinned and pressed himself against your back. Your neck was sucked and peppered with eager kisses, him dry humping you. You dragged your teeth across your bottom lip, a wanton whine escaping.

He let go of your wrists and made quick work of pulling your sun dress up and freeing himself from his pants. Working with him, you spread your legs and arched your back, anticipation crawling over your skin. Pulling your underwear aside, he drove up into you, holding tight at your hips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped as he picked up speed.

Anyone walking by outside the room would be greeted with loud, pleasured moans and the sound of skin slapping skin with how hard Tony was driving into you. You hardly cared; it was your damn house after all.

The two of you found a slow rhythm to relieve the intensity, a needed break. You rolled your hips, riding him with precision. His hands flexed, one coming up to cup your breast, kneading at it through your dress. He leaned forward enough to suck at your earlobe, whispering filth into your ear before he gave a rough nip.

You pushed back roughly and hissed, “I’m so close. Please.”

Tony’s hand fell from your tit and found its way between your panties and wet pussy. His fingers worked at your clit, and you groaned loudly, begging for him to not stop and he promised you he was going to fuck you good. He was working fast again, his breath coming quick and hot.

“I…I…” you stuttered moments before you clenched, your heat enveloping him tighter.

“Oh, god, that’s it, baby,” Tony praised in a low groan, his fingers faltering on your clit. But he thrusted quicker for a few seconds before he was pulsating. His hand fell to your thigh, fingers digging in as he stilled, emptying completely.

His head rested on your shoulder, the two of you breathing heavy. He found his breath again and laid a soft kiss at your neck.

“Well, that helped my stress,” he breathed.

Leaning back, you turned your head to be able to see him well enough to give him a kiss. Against his lips, you smiled, “Glad I could be of some assistance.”

<><><>

Erick was walking beside you, checking his phone. He suddenly stopped, holding out his arm to stop you as well. “We should go to another store.”

You furrowed your brow and said, “What? Why? I’m done. And they said they would be at the café now for lunch.”

“They’re going to be late.”

Shooting a look across the street, you spotted Bucky inside and slid your eyes back to Erick, looking completely unimpressed. “Nice try. Bucky is already inside.”

Erick swore underneath his breath and you frowned, sensing you were being kept out of the loop about something. You had been surprised when Bucky and Natasha had asked to ride along with you and Erick when they learned where you were going to be going shopping but had told them to come along. They had made it clear they were going somewhere else but would meet back for lunch.

You began walking again and Erick said more firmly, “Y/N, we should find another store to go into.”

Pressing the crosswalk button, you crossed your own arms, your bags bumping up against your middle. You always insisted on carrying some of the bags. Erick was your bodyguard, not your servant.

“Y/N.”

“I heard you. And I’m choosing to ignore you.”

Erick sighed loudly as the light came on to cross and you did so, hearing him follow you despite his protesting. Bucky spotted you through the window and his eyes shot back to Erick, giving him a disappointed glare. It only served to encourage you to move a bit quicker. Upon entering the café, you saw Bucky staring directly at you and Natasha looking at you over her shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be shopping,” Bucky said as you approached the table.

“I’m done. I thought we were having lunch,” you told him, sitting down beside him, placing your bags on the ground. “What’s the hold up?” Natasha was tight lipped as was Bucky as Erick sat down next to Natasha. You exhaled deeply and said in a quieter voice, even though you were alone in the corner, “You can trust me. You know you can. You’re doing a drop off, aren’t you?” Bucky cocked his head and you picked up his coffee and took a sip. “I know Salazar likes to do business in that building. You must need some new toys.”

Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look and for once, you noticed Erick actually looked amused at the fact you had forced yourself into the situation. He knew you were not stupid and he was probably feeling a little sense of pride that they were noticing that as well.

Adjusting in his seat, Bucky admitted in low tones, “Yes. And someone who isn’t gonna be happy about it has people set up inside watching to see who goes in and out.”

“I can do it.”

“It’s dangerous, Y/N,” Erick told you immediately before the other two could respond. His amusement was gone.

Seriously, you asked, “For me? They’re not even to think twice about me walking in. Sure, I’m married to Tony and my dad is a boss. But people really don’t pay attention to me except thinking about getting me on my back.”

Natasha ground her teeth at that, uncomfortable.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said, shrugging. “They’ll think I’m just going in to look at the back jewelry room. All I care about is shopping anyways, right?” Natasha cocked an eyebrow and you said with a smirk, “Yes. I do know about that too, and I’ve been inside. Problem is I’ll have to actually go up to the room and that guy — Tucker — is a sleazebag.”

“You think I’m gonna let you go alone?” Erick asked.

You patted his arm, “Look at you being chivalrous.”

“Tony would have my balls if I let you around Tucker without me.”

“Wait, we did not even agree to this,” Natasha cut in, holding up her hand.

“Give it to me,” you told her, holding out your hand. “I can carry it in my purse. Go upstairs, get something small from Tucker or act like I was not impressed with the selection, and then come back down a back way to drop it into the chute before circling back and coming back out the front entrance.”

You flexed your fingers after they did not react quick enough. “I have concealed carry if anything goes wrong. And you know Erick is a great protector.”

“I have to ask Tony—” Bucky started to say.

“Bullshit,” you told Bucky. “This needs to get done. I’m assuming it’s time sensitive. And you had an unexpected snag and you have the solution sitting right beside you. Not acting on it is going to make you miss your goddamn window. I have gotten my hands dirty before and involved with this type of shit. It’s nothing new.”

Natasha nodded at Bucky stiffly and he sighed, reaching into his jacket, pulling out a thick bag and handing it to you. You felt it was money and put it into your purse swiftly. It was concealed by the fact it was hidden in a grocery store bag, not see through. Picking the menu up, you quickly scanned it.

“Erick and I both like breakfast sandwiches, his with ham and mine with bacon,” you told them putting the menu back down on the table. “I want an orange juice too. You?”

“Water,” Erick answered before following your movement to stand up.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Hopefully before the food gets here. Mind my bags, please,” you told the pair before striding off and not waiting for their answer.

Tucker was a sweet talker as always, commenting on how nice your jumpsuit looked. His hands trailed along your own and you pulled away naturally, not forcing it. When you politely brushed off his advances, he congratulated you on your recent marriage since he had not seen you since it happened. You bantered back and forth with him about how he was always able to find out the latest gossip. He told you that it was big news that Tony had gotten married; if you did not know it, you were not keeping your ear to the ground at all.

To your surprise, he had something in stock you really wanted. And it was for Tony. A nice new ring and you took it happily. Hopefully if Tony caught wind of this – which he certainly would, you doubted Bucky or Natasha would lie to him – this would soften the blow.

On the way down, you did exactly what you said were you going to do and you dropped the bag off in the chute and came back around. Walking right past the people that you knew were watching for whoever it was that Natasha and Bucky were worried about. They only glanced at you and looked away when they saw the small signature bag of Tucker’s business.

Sliding back into your chair, you placed the bag on the table and said, “It’s done. Also, do you think Tony will like that?”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl @namjoonwatcheshentai @kaylamcd2000 @damntonystarkandhissmile @aditimukul

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental @suchababie @downeyreads @teenageregression​

[obeymehasinfluncedmythoughts]

Brothers as New Parents

Featuring Poly!Mc.

Guess who decided to finally finish this oneeeeee. I used my parents for inspiration for some of these. Sadly my getting knocked out by a carpet story didn't qualify 😔

Lucifer

Despite the name and the whole demon thing, Lucifer is actually a pretty decent father.

In the beginning though, he's really lost.

Like, the only baby he's ever raised is Satan and technically that doesn't count, so he's kinda confused here. Which really freaks him out.

Things get easier once the kid can finally walk, but don't expect Lucifer to really understand babies too much, or to like them either. They're way too noisy and dirty for him to actually enjoy. 

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a good dad.

Sure, he's not amazing, no parent naturally is, but he isn't reckless with your child and genuinely makes attempts to keep them alive. 

He just, kinda waits till the kid isn’t spitting up daily or wearing diapers to actually like their company

Before that it just feels like another job. Or like he’s watching his brothers. 

He loves his child but, uh, he’s going to be the type of dad to forget which baby is his if we’re being honest. 

Mammon

He's really good a keeping babies entertained. Like, really good.

(Who would have known babies also like shiny things that jingle?)

Also loves to spend money on them. Like, legit any baby left under his supervision will be dressed in absurdly priced outfits. It's a little frustrating to wash these clothes, especially considering how dirty kids can get.

But besides all the spoiling and the playing, Mammon is clueless.

Like what do babies do?? What do they need? Are they supposed to sleep for that long??

He regrets not reading the baby books Satan recommended.

He's extremely clumsy as a dad, but in like that way where only he gets hurt but your child never does.

(Despite being so young, you're pretty sure the kid laughs every time he face plants.)

Likes to watch TV with the baby. The kid's probably seen every action movie known to man (and demon) by this point.

Leviathan

Levi isn't good with pregnancy, but he is pretty decent with kids.

Something about his personality really draws them to him

(Which is a great examination as to why most children must have to be taught how to share. Leviathan is a bad influence)

He kinda only ever takes over the "fun" parts of being a dad. Not because he doesn't try though. He does, really, but he often finds himself at a loss when it comes to dealing with spit-up or diapers or the little quirks babies develop.

Levi's the third oldest. He didn't have to deal with that stuff. None of them really had to, as raising angels is kinda a community effort. Seeing as Lucifer wasn't exactly the maternal type, he'd spent his years with his brother watching over kids. Never being beside them.

I think he's especially freaked out if he has a daughter. Like, he doesn't know what to so for the most part with any child, but girls are even more foreign to him, seeing as he's only ever had brothers. Well, besides Lilith, but she's a different story.

It's not really bad, he's just new to everything, but you'll probably give Lucifer an earful for not at least giving more responsibilities with Satan.

Most definitely gives his kid toy weapons and costumes to play with. They can't even walk yet but he's got a chest with princess dresses and lightsabers ready to go.

Satan

Satan is pretty much the most normal dad you could ever ask for.

Yeah, a normal demon, spell-casting dad, but norm nevertheless.

He's always the one to offer to take over your shifts in the night (He will not sub for his brothers though. They can fuck right off).

Buys you your first mother's/father's/whatever you choose to call your parental title's day gift because everyone else most likely forgets amongst the stress of baby.

Most DEFINITELY tries to do that whole "all natural" baby thing, but probably realizes a few days in that breastmilk is not only hard to obtain in the Devildom, but most demons don't really give a samn about cruelty free items (Mass produced cotton included).

^Asmo and him did this together btw. But Asmodeus did it for clout whilst Satan did it for the baby's health.

He'll dress his kid up like him. The clothes are still ugly as sin.

Asmodeus

Your kid will be internet famous before they turn five months old.

Asmo does not understand the word "privacy" or the concept of "not plastering his child's life for everyone to see"

But, you must admit, he does dress your baby up in the most adorable ways.

She might just be the only person he puts above the two of you, both as individuals, and as a couple.

(^I don't think all the brother's would think this way. Some probably still internalize their angel backgrounds or have even formed their own opinions onto where a kid places in a relationship. I might get into it more if asked but I'm leaving this here for now)

He does everything with the kid, when he has them, and if the child is biologically his (which will be extremely apparent), that kid will be with him all the damn time.

He wants his baby to be beautiful like his parents, but most of all, he wants his baby to be happy.

Will most likely turn into the exact definition of "the cool mom" from mean girls but that's far off from now.

Until then, he'll just stroll around the mall, showing his baby all the sparkly things they'll eventually love.

Beelzebub

Beel would have been a pretty normal dad if not for his more older-brother mentality.

Like, the guy has never really been around kids. He's been around Belphegor. Which isn't a huge age gap but there's still that looming protective older-sibling trait there.

He kinda sees the kid, no matter who or where it comes from, as just another sibling.

After what happened with Lilith though, he's more prone to be more protective over girls. He doesn't even recognize he's doing it tbh.

(There's actually a lot of open wounds regarding Lilith that show up in his parenting skills, but they develop a lot later)

He always has to know where your kid is at, but he doesn't necessarily need to be with them.

Like, he's afraid of something horrible happening, but he trusts his brothers, and you, to be able to handle it. He just needs the constant reassurance.

Very insistent on keeping a feeding schedule through, and is known to freak out when they refuse to eat, or get an upset stomach, or something along the lines of the digestive process goes wrong.

Beel is probably the best at bath time. Man can make some awesome rubber duck voices, and the plotlines he thinks up are very interesting.

Belphegor

The one the most scared to have a baby is the one who loves to spend the most time with the baby.

Why? Because babies sleep most of the fucking day. This is a great bonding experience.

And for some reason, you suspect it's due to his powers, the kid will sleep through anything when the two of them are together.

The minute they sleep in their room, or in a cot next to your bed, they'll be waking up hourly for some reason or another.

And it's like, you can't have the baby sleep with Belphegor all the time because if the kid genuinely needs some attention, he needs to wake up and make it known.

But damn are you tired.

Like you some how think raising a child with seven partners is harder than one, because no one should feel this exhausted when they are allowed to take at least three naps a day.

Outside that conundrum, he's a very quiet dad. He'll just sit by the baby and play with them, usually via rattle, enjoying the cute little noises they make and the faces that grace their features.

He'll miss this when the baby starts crawling.

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (8/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Angst, pouty Steve. More soft Bucky. That’s it, that’s the warning. 

Notes: Thank you all for the feedback of the previous chapter and for your patience while real life took over for a bit. Someone mentioned that they felt like Bucky/their relationship wasn’t featured enough, so I hope this chapter fulfills that for you! x

Also, a giant thank you to @marauderskeeper​ for this beautiful artwork!!! I’m so fucking in love with this! How perfect is this artwork, y’all?!

Steve finds patterns in the ceiling, shapes. It’s near-silent in the room save the sound of peepers through the open window, the soft breathing beside him. The weight against his chest shifts, sighs, rolls over, and he swallows thickly. Traces the lines of her body even though they’re all wrong, catches the scent of her hair - the wrong color.

He isn’t a stranger to the modern concepts of love and relationships, but it’s an indulgence he doesn’t frequently partake in. The women he meets are great, just none seem to strike that chord in him. None that seem to challenge him or intrigue quite like you.

The woman leaves with a friendly smile, an easy exit with no lingering questions of another night together or anything. He remains in bed for a little while longer, hands tucked up behind his head as he connects constellations in the ceiling. Training begins in thirty minutes, and he inhales deeply to quell the raging in his belly. He’s nervous; it’s the first he’ll see you after his apology.

He’d heard about your successful mission and he’s proud, almost excited for you, even though he knows he has no right. His treatment of you only serves to prove he’s failed as Captain; he’s meant to lead and guide and encourage. Instead, he judged and ridiculed and humiliated, drove you to the point of persevering to prove him wrong.

And you did. He’s embarrassed, ashamed - but proud all the same.

He dresses slowly in the SHIELD-issued black tac pants and navy t-shirt, the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the breast. Someone like Nat or Bucky or even Sam might accuse him of stalling as he carefully and meticulously laces his sneakers, but to anyone else he’d appear sluggish. To anyone else, he’d say he’s tired, that he’d had a late night, but if it were any of the aforementioned three, he’d pointedly keep his mouth shut.

He’s nervous - he’s man enough to admit it. He’s unsure of what to expect, unsure if he’d imagined his apology and your reluctance to believe him. He hates not being sure, not being confident, hates being thrown off his axis, out of balance. Structure, routine, and control is weaved into his DNA, and by apologizing, he’s given up that control, given a piece of him away for someone to do with as she pleases.

He hates it, loathes the way it makes his movements slower, stiffer, like he slept on a bad mattress all night instead of his cushy pillow-top next to a warm body. A warm body he really had no business bringing back here last night, but he brushes that thought away.

He takes a little longer than usual brushing and inspecting his teeth, snarling into the mirror and using floss of all things until he looks at the time and knows he can’t put this off any longer. Schooling his features into impassive steel, Steve sweeps from his room. The ride in the elevator down to the training room is spent building up a wall in his mind, a wall away from her - from you.

You’re already there when he enters, along with Bucky and a few other recruits. You’re smiling, teasing Bucky, and it puts lead in his chest. Absolutely scorches when you notice him and your smile promptly drops. He feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows heavily, and the burn in his chest lessons only a little when you offer him a respectful nod.

He returns it, catches Bucky’s eye and his friend gives him a reassuring smile. Steve’s not sure it helps. Mentally shaking it off, he begins the session, starts them off with running laps while he and Bucky spectate.

Steve can’t help but watch you; you’ve got near-perfect running form and you seem unbothered by your knee. You keep pace with everyone, even set it once or twice, and his scrutiny of you means he catches every little side-glance you give his best friend. The little curl at the corners of your lips, a darting glance away.

He catches the same expression on Bucky’s face - and he knows. How could he not know? The way he’d intervened when Steve was being unreasonably harsh, the easy, gentle teasing between you just now, the ever-present smile on Bucky’s face whenever he looks at his phone, the secret glances now as you increase the pace and pull ahead.

As Steve moves the group on to sparring sessions, the looks between you and Bucky become less sneaking and more appraising, and Steve has to dig hard beneath to find any joy that his friend has found his own happiness. Steve knows Bucky deserves it, after all he’s been through and yet.

The obvious connection between the two of you makes his chest hurt and jaw clench so tight it aches. When Bucky calls on you to demonstrate with him, Steve has to hide his curled fists in the pockets of his sweats.

His mind is muddled; he has no reason to be this angry - jealous, surely - but angry? No. Aggravated enough he wants to knock Bucky’s teeth out, sick enough at the sight of the two of you, moving in such synchrony, that he almost looks for the closest trash barrel.

Instead, he pushes the recruits hard, calls out tips to avoid making his previous mistake again, and offers assistance where it’s needed. An adjusted position here, a tip about roundhouse kicks there. He can almost ignore you and Bucky grunting and shouting only feet away.

You, meanwhile, are almost hyper-aware of Steve and the one-eighty he’s seemed to have made. He’s keeping his distance, though you don’t miss the pinched expression to his face or the underhanded glances he shoots you. Probably anticipating a snarky reply or otherwise prove you aren’t trying to remain civil.

He’s made his way over as Bucky pulls you into a headlock, the position warming something deep within you. His arm is loose enough around your neck that he isn’t cutting off any air, but his pelvis is flush with your backside and you even think he’s grinding it - imperceptibly enough that it goes unnoticed by the others. He’s fresh, you’re learning, pushing boundaries wherever he can.

Normally, you’d play along, dig and push a little back, but not with Steve watching the way he is. Arms crossed, feet hip-width apart in his typical Captain stance, but he’s far less rigid than he was. You execute S.I.N.G. (solar plexus, instep, nose, groin) with anxious butterflies, but you manage to successfully complete the move, spin, and move to jab Bucky again. 

Steve’s voice is even gentle when he tells you, “Move your feet. Don’t lock up or remain stationary.”

It’s such a far cry from his previous gruff behavior that it throws you, knocks you slightly off-kilter so that you stumble into Bucky’s chest. With heat in your cheeks, you push away from him, try to resume as if you didn’t fumble at all. You’re meant to be the picture of indifference and yet Steve’s one-eighty has you completely floored.

Should you be, though? He did promise you he’d be better, and so far he’s kept that promise. Perhaps a part of you hadn’t believed him, hadn’t had any reason to believe him - about anything. The fact that he’s trying stirs something in you, and it leaves you open to wind up face-down on the mat.

“Shit,” you grunt as the wind rushes from your lungs.

“That’s what happens when you get distracted,” Bucky teases before reaching with his metal hand to help you to your feet. “Your enemy won’t hesitate to exploit that opening if you give it to them.”

“Yeah,” you agree on a sigh, “yeah. Let’s do it again.”

The warmth in your cheeks doesn’t cool as you run through your spar again. This time, you manage to block out Steve’s close scrutiny and get Bucky on his back, a knee pressed into his chest. You know he can toss you off without a hitch but he lays there, lets you have the win.

“Better,” Steve compliments with an approving nod. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, so you stare at his chest - which, to your shocking admission, isn’t all that much better. The intrusive thought forces you to duck your head, busy yourself with your water bottle as Bucky and Steve begin a rundown of the next exercise.

If either notice you take a little longer to collect yourself, they don’t say anything. After a few more moments of distracting yourself with your water bottle, you return to the group as the Captain and Bucky begin a mock-mission to sharpen your skills.

By the time you’re released from training, you’re covered in a layer of sweat that shimmers under the overhead lights, your mind is tapped, and your entire body feels like it went a round or five against Mike Tyson - super soldiers in your case, but they’d pulled their punches. The muscles in your back pull taut as you stretch, a tightness that makes you wince, expel a tiny whimper.

A gasp as a set of hands lands on your back - one warm, the other just slightly cooler - and the thumbs dig in, find the tightest muscles and press.

“Fuck,” you hiss, arching against Bucky’s skilled hands. A pained smile over your shoulder and, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He grins and leans forward to drop a kiss to your temple. “You did good today.”

“Feels like I went ten rounds with an MMA fighter, but thank you.” Another hmph as Bucky digs his knuckles into your lower back, and a sigh as the tightened muscles release. You slouch against him, disregarding the slight dampness to his compression t-shirt, and turn your face into his neck.

“Feel better?” he asks, throat vibrating against your forehead. Wordlessly, you nod.

“Until tomorrow when it really sets in. You’ll have to carry me everywhere,” you retort cheekily, tilting your face to meet his glimmering eyes.

“Oh, will I?” A teasing upturn of his lips and your eyes dart to them, hold there for a moment as your heart trips over itself in your chest.

“Uh huh.” A pause, then you shrug. “Or you can just stay in bed with me.”

The darkening of his eyes is offset sharply by the awkward look that suddenly shadows his face, cheeks going rouge as he quickly averts his eyes. It’s an odd reaction, and you tilt your head, mouth popping open before he overrides you.

“Whatever you want, doll,” he assures with a smile, all traces of bashfulness gone.

It’s a bit disconcerting how quickly his charming, easy-going demeanor is back in place, but you chalk it up to his former status as an assassin. Give nothing away, a mask he can flip off and on. He further pulls your mind away by lifting your hand to his lips and dotting small kisses across your knuckles.

“C’mon. Should take an ice bath for those muscles.” And he tugs you down the hallway.

“Mother of fucking SHIT.”

Bucky chortles, applies pressure to your shoulders to keep you from popping out of the bathtub he’s filled with ice and water. There’s a burn in your limbs from the cold, and your nails scrape at the ceramic of the tub, squeaking in the small space. Breath rushing in and out as you try to relax, loosen your sore, tightened muscles to let the coldness do its job.

But it’s hard, your mind whines, and your verbalize said whine pathetically.

“It’s so cold.” It’s a whisper, because speaking any louder is downright impossible as your brain works overtime to warm your body.

“I was frozen in ice off and on for seventy years,” he reminds you teasingly, “you can handle it.”

You hiss a laugh, and it makes his mouth twitch. He recalls the first time he ever made a joke about his history with HYDRA. Steve nearly shit a brick before chiding him about how he shouldn’t joke about such things.

“Steve, it happened to me,” he’d reminded, “I should be able to joke about it all I want. Better than going into total shutdown every time HYDRA is mentioned.”

Steve hadn’t said anything after that, but each time Bucky made a jab at HYDRA, he didn’t miss the disapproving gleam in his friend’s eye.

He feels relief that you laugh, feels, well, normal, and like he’s made progress if he feels he can confidently joke about his trauma. He knows he’s made progress, but there are still instances where he feels the others aren’t so sure.

With you, though, he doesn’t have to second-guess it. You don’t treat him like glass, like he’s going to shatter at the first sign of distress. It’s refreshing from the overbearing manner with which Steve treats him on most occasions. He’s thankful you hadn’t known the Bucky from before, the one Steve grew up with, the ghost of a time that’ll never come again. You’ve nothing to compare him to, nothing to miss like Steve does. It’s as refreshing as ice cream on a hot day...or an ice bath following a rigorous workout.

“C-Can I g-ge-get out yet?” Your teeth are chattering, arms crossed tightly over your chest and rubbing at your arms, riddled with gooseflesh. Your lips are even turning slightly blue as they wobble with the cold. 

“Can you feel your muscles?” he asks, reaching for the towel he’d placed on the toilet seat.

“I ca-can’t f-f-feel my lips, never m-mind my mus-muscles.” The snark is lost amongst the clicking of your teeth, but it gleams heavy in your eyes. Smirking, Bucky holds out the towel and helps you stand on shaky legs, like Bambi on ice.

Leggings and sports bra plastered like a second skin, they in no way help to warm you even out of the ice, and after you’re wrapped in the towel, Bucky gives you your privacy to strip down and get changed. Movements unsteady, your wet clothes are plopped into a pile on the tile floor and new, warm, dry clothes are hastily thrown on. Despite the rigorous workout this morning, you feel freshly invigorated, like maybe you could run a mile - once feeling comes back to your legs, that is.

Burrowed in the new clothes, you step out of the bathroom to see Bucky reclined on your bed, looking quite at home. It puts a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest as you approach, and it only grows when he opens his arms for you to burrow into the heat of him. His arms wind around you, the metal one a comforting weight against your back.

It’s silent for a little while, a peaceful blanket pulled over the two of you in the small space of your room. Bucky’s chest rises and falls gently beneath your cheek, slow breaths, and you almost think he’s asleep until he speaks.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

You ponder for a couple beats. “What’s your favorite part of the 21st century? I mean, you were frozen off and on for so long, you didn’t really get a chance to enjoy anything right?”

He hears the trepidation in your voice, the slight intonation that you might actually be crossing a line by asking. He smiles, chuckles a little so you know you haven’t offended him.

“Is it predictable to say the food?” At your head shake, he goes on, “I mean, in the 30s and 40s, we barely had nothin’. Sometimes we’d all go to bed hungry with no dinner, and sometimes I gave my sisters my portion of food. I was the oldest, you know? Had to take care of my family. But now...now there’s just, so much. And so many different kinds! You know, when I first came to the compound, after Shuri fixed my noggin, I didn’t eat a lot. Ate only what I thought I was allowed to eat. One small serving.  Was still going to bed hungry even when all this food was at my disposal.

Then Steve came to talk to me. Told me he was the same way, when he first came out of the ice. Said he had to take it slow because even though he was bigger, his body wasn’t used to eating so much. Neither was mine, even though I was healthier when I... before. HYDRA didn’t feed me, not really. No hot, home-cooked meal for the Fist. It was MREs, or a feeding tube - if I was awake long enough at the base. My system got used to it, and then when HYDRA fell, it was always...Ramen or canned meat, some fruit, if I could afford it. Nothing real substantial. Even in Wakanda, I was still only eating small portions. My first three-course meal here, I puked it all up. I was so astounded by the fact that I could eat as much as I wanted to, but my body wasn’t ready for it. It was used to rationing itself on small meals, used to fasting sometimes, too. But it got better. I ate a little more at each meal, got my body used to eating three times a day. Started working out more, too, to up my hunger. Eventually I could put away three servings at each meal and still have room for dessert. I’ve got a wicked sweet tooth.”

The last line is so unexpected, it makes you snort, choke on the breath, before you can laugh for real. It’s short, though, when you take in the entirety of his story and realize there’s so much you still have to learn about one James Barnes, so much of himself to reveal, so many layers to peel back so you can see who he truly is. A little skip in your heartbeat betrays your excitement to find out, if he’ll let you.

"I’ve got a list,” he then says, “of things people have recommended I try. Maybe you can help me cross some of them off, huh?”

“Bucky Barnes, are you officially asking me on a date?” you tease, leaning your head back to aim a cheeky smirk his way. 

His chest rumbles against with that warm chuckle that warms you to your bones. “Suppose I am. You gonna leave a guy hangin’?”

“Hm, I suppose then I could assist you with this foodie bucket list. We’ll make a cultured man out of you yet.”

[marvelyningreen]

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

           You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

           The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

           With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

           It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

           Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

           And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

           Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

           It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

           The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

           And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

           “You can come in.”

           You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

           There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

           “Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

           You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

           When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

           “How are you holding up?” you ask.

           Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

           “I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

           It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

           He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

           “I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

           “I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

           You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

           You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

           “Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

           Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

          You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

           Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

           “What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

           You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

           You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

           You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

           “I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

           Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

           You never heard from him again.

           It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together – the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

          “For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

           You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

           Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

           “I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

           If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

           “I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

           “I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

           You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

           “I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

           He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

           “Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

           Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

           “I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

           Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

           “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

           “What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

           He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

           “I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

           Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

           “I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

           “Oh…”

           You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

           But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

           Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

           “Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

           You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

           “Yeah, you. Who else?”

           At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

           “I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

           “No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

           He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

           “Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

           His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

           Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

           “Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

           He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

           “‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

           You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

           You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

           Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

           You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

           You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

           You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

[greenhappyseed]

BnHA Ch.318 - Comparisons and parallels

Hey, did you hear Bakugo was back? I kid! Of COURSE everyone on Tumblr heard the collective BKDK screams. :) While the gremlin ex machina is the big news, a lot of other good stuff happened too.

We open the chapter with more Endeavor chitchat. He’s turning out to be a good coordinator, an insightful investigator, and all around worthy of being a top pro…except he’s still a crap father and still doesn’t seem to care about human beings. Even here with Deku, he appears to express concern over Deku’s wellbeing but immediately follows it up with:

Yup, he only cares about Deku as the OFA holder, not the kid who saved him in the war, the kid who used to intern for him, or the kid who’s friends with his kid. Ugh.

Deku swears to Endy that he’s fine because he’s still on his feet, but that’s a pretty poor standard. I mean, he’s wobbling and needs Blackwhip as a literal crutch. The vestiges agree with Endy and start to gang up on Deku, so Deku, in all his tired teenage wisdom, decides to ghost them. Apparently you CAN ghost a vestige, and Fourth is not here for it.

Holy heteromorph discrimination! All the villains we see Deku fighting are heteromorphs (some are even dressed like Spinner). We also see Deku fighting a gigantic shark-headed villain in the water, presumably because Gang Orca and Selkie were busy.

I LOVE the panel of Deku thinking of his family, his teachers, and Eri. This is what he’s fighting to achieve, but Deku’s perceptions (goals?) don’t necessarily line up with reality.

His mom is first (awwww) and she’s cheering for him like she did when he was little. NOT worried, not crying, just pure joy for her hero son, like he fantasized when he was a quirkless boy.

Gran Torino in his hero outfit, smiling and eating — NOT as Deku last saw him in the hospital.

Proud Dadmight with a genuine smile, NOT hero All Might. Also, All Might appears to be wearing his track jacket, not a business suit, so presumably Deku is thinking about a more casual training moment with his mentor. This is an interesting contrast to Gran Torino, who Deku DOES picture as a hero even though Torino handed his cape to Deku in the hospital.

AIZAWA GLARING WITH BOTH EYES AND HIDING HIS MOUTH, because THIS is how Aizawa looks in Deku’s happily ever after. But we all know Aizawa is probably hiding a sly smile under under his capture weapon, right??

Eri, finally smiling freely, because she’s learned how.

Also, it looks like Deku is again fighting heteromorphs at the bottom of this panel, although one of the kids he’s defending appears to have a duck bill, so we have some positive representation too.

Deku says he wants everyone to live their lives in peace and safety so they can smile together. Wow, where have we heard an idealistic kid say that before?

As Deku thinks about the ideal he shares with All Might, he arrives at Kamino, the place where “All Might” ended. Deku nearly collapses and meets his end when he sees a villain called Dictator, who was sent by AFO. Yup, Nagant wasn’t the only one sent by AFO, she just thought she was (and AFO didn’t prep her well — by comparison, Dictator received a full briefing about Deku). But look carefully at how Dictator uses different insults than AFO. He doesn’t call Deku useless or a boy (as both AFO and Nagant did), even though the imagery throughout this chapter points to the “what can you even do?” bit from Chapter 1. Instead, Dictator calls Deku reckless, impatient, and a loner.

“Rampage” in particular, calls back to this AFO/Yoichi exchange during the vestige battle, where AFO decried “rage” as being ruled by emotion and out of control, but Yoichi praised it as a form of passion.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I think AFO is increasingly afraid of Deku. AFO is putting more effort into prepping his assassins, and his pass-through insults are sounding more like the taunts he hurled at All Might. AFO is now referring to All Might as useless and Deku as reckless. If, somehow, we see Dictator in the next chapter, I’m curious if he’ll explode or bust out a second quirk…..He does say taking Deku to AFO will bring him security, so I think AFO explicitly threatened him. All I’m saying is, it’s weird that a villain named Dictator has no mission statement or political end he’s trying to reach. He seems to be acting purely on AFO’s orders or ELSE, which means AFO is getting desperate and doesn’t have time for games. By contrast, AFO persuaded Nagant the boy would stop hero society from collapsing, therefore her goal and AFO’s goal were aligned. Unlike Dictator, she wasn’t aware there was an “or else;” she didn’t know she would explode if she exercised “free will.”

Deku snaps out of his stupor long enough to challenge Dictator to give up AFO’s location. Dictator says if Deku wants a fight, he’ll give him one, which echoes a line from AFO in Kamino:

There’s no more “come quietly if you want to keep your limbs,” it’s straight to “let’s fight!”

FINALLY! We. See. Bakugo! I adore how Deku is piled under bodies, twisting his tired brain around, thinking “I need a strategy,” and Bakugo is just, “VILLAIN GO BOOM!” with a precision blast. He knew exactly how to get the villain while keeping civilians safe. Perfect victory (assuming Dictator is truly done). Also, Bakugo’s “that punk” could apply to either the villain or Deku. :) It’s a nice callback to the final exam when Deku can’t think of a strategy to win against All Might and Bakugo was, “I choose violence against my childhood idol.” Both times, Bakugo’s right — sometimes a little rage is necessary to save and win.

I have thoughts on AFO and the “my body moved without thinking” bits that I’ll post separately. As for my next chapter hopes and dreams:

More Bakugo and UA kids. Plus All Might and Stain. And some LOV love pleeeeease.

Figure out why Second is being sus. He says saving everyone is the right path for Deku (contrary to AFO, who calls Deku’s path “thorny”), and that inaction is not an option for OFA holders. We also know Second believes victory = life and defeat = death, so it makes sense he’d push Deku towards victory no matter the cost. Second also says there’s something that can bolster Deku, which is presumably Bakugo and friends. However, when Bakugo arrives, Second doesn’t look pleased. Assuming he’s standing the same way against his throne chair as he is at the start of the chapter, then in the panel below Second is looking over his LEFT shoulder AWAY from the other vestiges and towards the expanse of the OFA mind realm. (Earlier in the chapter he looks over his RIGHT shoulder to speak to Yoichi and Third.) WHY YOU LOOK AWAY FROM VESTIGE FRIENDS WHEN WHEN BAKUGO APPEARS??? ARE YOU ON THE LOOKOUT FOR AFO TO ARRIVE??

Although the arrival of foreign heroes has been promised for a bit, and I’m ok with some background forces to bulk the hero ranks, I’m not keen on new cannon fodder cameo characters that will show up for 4 chapters and then disappear. A Captain Celebrity appearance would be fun, but let’s be honest, he likely noped out of going to Japan to fight villains gone wild. If Death Arms quit, there’s no way Captain Celebrity would keep going!

[fruitcoops]

Hello! I truly love your writing! Would you consider a continuation of that piece where Jules stays with coops for a week? Or just some snippets of what they get up to?

Here’s part 1, folks! It’s about 3k words and I’m thinking there will be three or four parts total, released over the next couple days. I hope you enjoy it!

Sweater Weather and Jules credit belongs to @lumosinlove!

“Jules.” A series of gentle knocks echoed down the stairs and Sirius smiled into his coffee cup. “Jules, it’s time to wake up.”

Regulus snorted. “Bet you five bucks he has to drag the kid down.”

“Deal.”

“Jules.” Remus knocked again, sounding more exasperated. There was a heavy sigh and the door clicked open; after a moment of quiet, someone yelped. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go away!” Jules groaned. “An’ give it back!”

“It’s time for breakfast, get a wiggle on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“I’m cold.” More rustling noises followed before Jules appeared at the top of the staircase, bundled in Remus’ sweatshirt—which was really Sirius’, but it didn’t matter—and scowling. His bedhead was outstanding.

“Bon matin,” Sirius said with a smile when Jules sat heavily in the chair next to him and put his forehead on his arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t like your fiancé.”

“Oh?”

“He’s mean.”

Sirius winked at Remus as he rolled his eyes and pulled a cereal box out of the pantry. “What did he do?”

“He stole my blankets with no warning.”

“That is such a lie,” Remus scoffed. “I knocked on your door for five whole minutes before I came in!”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Sirius said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Reg owes me five bucks now.”

“Sweet, we can get more Oreos.”

“Oreos aren’t on your diet plan,” Jules sulked as Remus passed him a bowl of cereal and milk.

“How do you know?”

Jules mumbled something and shoved his spoon into his mouth. The night before had been hectic, with Sirius driving the Hope and Lyall to the airport while Remus helped set Jules up for the night. Regulus came back from hanging out with Leo around ten pm; by that time, Jules was still wired for sound at the idea of a week-long sleepover. He finally went to sleep around eleven thirty and Sirius and Remus crash-landed into bed, exhausted.

Practice was going to be hell.

“Why do we have to wake up early, again?” Jules asked around a yawn.

Sirius ruffled his hair as he sat down again. “Practice starts at ten. Eight o’clock is not early at all.”

He squinted at him, confused. “How early do you usually wake up?”

“Seven, seven-thirty.”

Jules shuddered and turned back to his cereal while Remus plonked himself down in Sirius’ lap with a coffee cup, looking moments away from falling asleep again. “Children are exhausting. Why did we get two of them?”

“Hey!” Jules and Regulus said in unison, clearly offended.

“We’ve got terrible judgement,” Sirius laughed.

“Older brothers are the worst, right Jules?”

“Totally. Are you coming to the rink with us?”

Regulus shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got college stuff to work on. Want to help me with paperwork?”

Jules made a face. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re leaving in forty minutes, okay?” Remus said, stretching his back as he stood up and left Sirius’ lap cold and empty. “Jules, please take a shower.”

“I smell fine!”

“You didn’t take one yesterday or the day before. Scoot.” Jules rolled his eyes and got up. “Don’t give me that look! And put your bowl in the sink.”

Sirius and Regulus shared a glance as Jules put his stuff away and trooped up the stairs. “Hi, Hope,” Regulus snickered.

Resignation overtook Remus’ face and he sighed. “Fuck. I’m turning into my mother already. Reg, you should take a shower, too.”

“I smell fine!” The withering look from both Sirius and Remus made him raise his hands in surrender and wander off to his bedroom. “I’m nineteen, not nine!”

”And yet we still need to babysit you,” Sirius called back. Finally, they were alone. He hopped up to sit on the counter and grabbed Remus around the waist as he passed by, pulling him back for a hug. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” Remus kissed him gently, bracketing his hips with his hands. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m actually pretty excited to have Jules stay with us. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Ne rien. It’s good to have people here.” They kissed for a moment longer, listening to the shower running upstairs and Regulus’ rummaging noises down the hall. “I swear to God, he’s like a raccoon.”

Remus laughed and leaned his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder. “He definitely sounds like one.”

“At least his room’s clean.”

“Cheers to that. He’s heading back tomorrow, right?”

“Mhmm. Dumo’s been bugging me for, like, three days.”

Remus hummed, wrapping his arms around Sirius and snuggling into him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ve only got a little bit of time before Jules is out, so we should get dressed.”

Remus groaned, but released his limpet hold. “That was so close to a perfect sentence.”

Sirius paused just before hopping off the counter and raised his eyebrows. “If we have extra time…”

“Come on, you,” Remus laughed, tugging him off the counter by the hand and hurrying toward the stairs.

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

They arrived at the rink at 10:05, and Sirius began bracing himself for the inevitable chirping as soon as he stepped out of the car. Jules bounced on his toes in excitement as they walked toward the building, laden with their hockey gear and still a bit frazzled from the mad dash out of the house.

“Is this the munchkin?” Moody asked when Remus knocked on the door to the PT office.

“Yep.” Remus looked down at Jules, whose eyes were wide and more than a little nervous as his grip tightened on Remus’ jacket hem.

“Alastor Moody,” he grunted, holding a hand out that Jules tentatively shook.

“Jules.”

“Wanna see how bones work, kid?”

Instantly, his nerves disappeared. “Yeah!��

Moody winked at them as he led Jules toward the joint models on the far wall and Sirius let out a slow breath. “He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. If anyone can drive Moody off the wall, it’ll be my little brother,” Remus murmured as they headed off down the hall.

The yelling started the second Sirius opened the locker room door. “You’re LATE!” James shouted, grinning from ear to ear. “Hand over the badge, Captain.”

“We still have fifty minutes until practice starts, shut your face.” Sirius socked him on the shoulder and set his bag in the stall.

“What, pray tell, was the reason for this tardiness?” James leaned over and batted his eyelashes.

Remus rolled up a towel and smacked him on the ass with it. “My little brother.”

“Jules is here?” Leo perked up on the other side of the room, and Sirius saw several of the guys look over in excitement, as if they were hiding him in one of their bags.

“He’s staying with us for the week since my great-aunt passed away.”

“Shit, Loops, I’m sorry.”

Remus shrugged. “I never met her, but my folks went back for the funeral. Moody said he’d keep an eye on Jules during practice.”

“Lupin, Black, you’re late,” Coach Weasley said from the doorway, giving them a look over his glasses. “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“No, Coach,” Sirius said as he pulled his pads over his chest.

“I hear you’ve commandeered my head PT for the day.”

Remus shook his head. “If Jules starts bugging him—”

“I’m kidding, Loops.” Arthur’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Moody loves kids. This’ll be good for his disposition.”

Finn snorted. “Can’t get any worse.”

“I expect all of you on the ice in twenty. Any stragglers are doing laps outside!” Arthur slapped the edge of the doorway before ducking out into the hall again; his sneakers squeaked on the freshly-washed floor and Sirius stifled a laugh as he finished buckling up.

The five minute delay did not have a terrible impact on his pre-practice rituals, which he took a  moment to be grateful for—they had a scrimmage planned, and he didn’t intend to lose. Once warmups were over, they moved into running plays, until finally the whistle blew and Coach called out the teams. Remus ended up on the other side and he slapped Sirius’ ass with his stick as he passed him, grinning over his shoulder before stopping next to Dumo.

Jules and Moody came out to watch a few minutes in; Sirius caught a glimpse of his wide eyes when he saw the speed of the game and smiled to himself. Everyone else seemed to notice the new arrivals as well, because their effort doubled and suddenly the plays were running smoother than ever.

Showing off for a ten-year-old, he thought with a shake of his head. Talk about baby fever.

Remus sped through the defense, weaving back and forth until he was nearly face-to-face with Sirius. His whole face lit up and he braced; when Sirius went to check him, he dipped sideways at the last second and slipped the puck right through his skates, catching it on the other side and zipping toward the goal at top speed. The goal light went off and Talker whooped, checking him in celebration.

“Lupin! Where’s that been all season?” Arthur demanded, though he was laughing. “Christ, guys, thanks for finally waking up!”

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Sirius asked as they headed back for the face-off.

“You think you’re the only one who skates in the basement?” Remus said with a cheeky grin.

The whole rink buzzed with energy throughout the rest of the scrimmage—once or twice, Sirius realized even he was showing off a little for Jules, who cheered louder than fifteen thousand fans whenever someone scored.

Arthur shook his head when the final whistle went off. “Everyone say ‘thank you’ to Julian.”

“Thank you, Jules,” they chorused. Jules looked like he was about to die of happiness.

“I need to get him in here more often,” Arthur muttered as they headed to the locker room to change into their gym gear. “Let’s get that energy for every practice, okay? Not just the ones with Little Loops.”

“What are you talking about?” Kasey laughed.

Arthur fixed him with a look. “Don’t bullshit me, Winter, all of you were showing off for the kid.”

Remus blushed all the way to his ears, and the rest of them mumbled some half-assed excuses until they were shooed away. “I put the new schedule on the mirror,” Sirius called over the noise. “Try to pay attention to it for once.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Logan reached up and patted him on the shoulder as he passed; Sirius dragged him back into a headlock to ruffle his hair. “Ow, fuck, okay!”

Logan did not, in fact, stick to the schedule. He was far too busy tossing the lightest medicine ball they had with Jules, who staggered slightly whenever he caught it. Both looked absolutely thrilled.

Sirius, on the other hand, was glad for the opportunity to do a fair bit of ogling while he spotted Remus—who stuck to the schedule, Sirius had never loved him more—until he finished his bench-pressing rotation. He was strong before being a player, but now…well, it was safe to say he could sweep Sirius off his feet literally and figuratively.

“Re, Re!” Jules ran over when Remus finally sat up, then paused and made a face. “You’re sweaty.”

Remus pulled him in for a hug, making him shriek and wiggle to get out. “I am, yeah! Isn’t it great? Here, lemme just—”

Jules flailed, but he couldn’t get out of Remus’ hold in time to avoid the head nuzzle that plastered his hair up on one side with sweat as the guys laughed. “Ewww!”

“Did you need something, buddy?” Remus asked at last.

“Well, now I need a shower.” Jules grimaced. “I was going to ask if you guys actually do ice baths.”

“Of course we do!” Kasey cut in before Remus could quickly divert the topic. “And your brother loves them.”

Sirius had to turn around to muffle his laughter as interest lit on Jules’ face. “Really? Can I see?”

Kasey opened the door dramatically. “Right this way, Little Loops.”

Two of the ice baths were full when they arrived and Sirius did not miss the pained look on Remus’ face at the sight, nor did he miss the devious smile on Kasey’s. Jules hurried over to one and looked over the end, practically sticking his whole face in. “Woah.”

“Pretty cool, huh? You want to know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“Oh, Christ,” Remus muttered.

“Loops, will you do the honors and make sure your darling little brother has a good time?” Kasey asked, the picture of innocence. Remus sighed and stood next to the ice bath, silently begging Sirius for help with his eyes as Kasey motioned Jules over. “Alright, so you take one of these, and then you have to be super careful as you aim. Lucky for you, you’re learning from the best.”

Remus winced as the first ice cube smacked him in the side of the head and gritted his teeth as the second went down the neck of his t-shirt. Sirius schooled his expression into the mildest, sweetest smile he could muster. “He’s not doing anything,” Jules whispered. Remus began taking deep breaths.

“He will.”

“Try me, Wint—oh, sh—” Remus muffled a squeak as ice went directly down his spine. “Hoo, boy, that’s cold.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you censor yourself,” Kasey said, amazed. “It’s uncanny.”

“Are you done?”

“I could do this all day, but it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and Nat gets hangry if I’m late. Good game, Little Loops.” Kasey and Jules high-fived and Remus shook his shirt out; no less than four ice cubes clattered to the ground.

“Young man, you are in such big trouble,” Remus growled playfully as he swept Jules over his shoulder and began tickling his knees. Sirius dodged the squirming legs and held the door open for them as they walked back into the hallway. “You’re okay hanging out with Moody while we get our stuff together, right?”

“Yeah! He’s got the coolest knee statues.”

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

Dinner was anything but a quiet affair; all three of them had taken a nap when they got home, then had a dance party in the kitchen while Remus taught Jules how to actually cook chicken so nobody got food poisoning. Sirius was torn between begging them for the details of that particular story and wanting to stay as far away from it as possible.

Regulus and Jules got into a fierce game of footsie under the table that only ended when a small foot—he still didn’t know which one it was—slammed into the base of Sirius’ knee, hard enough that it would certainly leave a bruise. “Ow.”

They both froze, shared a look, then silently went back to eating. “Practice starts at nine tomorrow,” Remus said around a bite of broccoli. “That means wake up time is six thirty, okay? We’ve got a game on Thursday and it’s super important that we’re not late again. Reg, what time are you heading out?”

“I was thinking noon-ish? That way I can get my stuff set up while Dumo’s still at practice. Don’t want to bother him.”

Jules turned to him with the biggest, saddest eyes Sirius had ever seen. “You’re leaving?”

“I live with Dumo, remember?” Regulus hesitated. “I’ll be at the game, though.”

“Can I sit with you?”

“Absolutely.”

That seemed to placate him, and he turned back to his chicken happily. Sirius nudged his brother, giving him a significant look, which was met with an eye roll that couldn’t quite cover the fond flush on his face.

Jules and Regulus took care of the dishes after dinner and Sirius stretched out on the couch to the sounds of the kid’s excited chatter as he recounted the day’s events. Remus flopped down on top of him, settling between his thighs with a contented smile. “Today went well.”

“Yeah, it did.” Sirius began running his fingers through Remus’ soft hair. “I think Moody is about thirty seconds away from adopting him.”

Remus laughed against his chest. “I think so. It’s pretty cool seeing him so excited about PT stuff.”

“It is.” There was a slow sigh and Sirius raised his eyebrows. “What was that about?”

“I just realized that even though Reg is leaving tomorrow, we won’t have the house to ourselves for six more days. It’s been two weeks.”

Sirius closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the armrest. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that. Think we can dump him on Dumo for a night?”

“We can handle six days, right?”

“Yeah, totally.”

There was a beat of silence. “This is going to be difficult.”

“If we make it to the three-day mark, I say we break open the Oreos as a reward.”

“Sounds good to me—oof.”

They both groaned as an extra hundred pounds of person squished on top of them. “Dishes are done!” Jules chirped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Sirius wheezed, blinking the dark spots out of his vision. Remus’ chin was digging into his upper ribs.

“Yep! Regulus wants to watch a movie. I think we should watch Jurassic Park, but he says it’s terrible—”

“He what?” Remus raised his head slightly and craned his neck to look back at the kitchen. “Regulus!”

“What?”

“You don’t like Jurassic Park? I thought you had taste!” Remus pushed off the couch and Jules wrapped all his limbs around him like an oversized koala. “We’re watching it tonight and you’re going to like it. Come on, baby, we need to make sure your brother has culture.”

Two hours later, as the credits rolled and three people snored gently, Sirius smiled to himself. He could handle a week of this.

[amhrosia]

My Sun, My Moon, My Stars Pt. 1/? (Bucky x Reader)

1.6k Words // Masterlist // Requests are OPEN :)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong with the Avengers, you’re more than glad to see everyone made it out safely. That is, until you look down and see the blood stain spreading across your torso.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death, gunshot wound, did I mention angst?)

No one thinks about dying when they're young. Not really. Every young person in the world is convinced that they’re invincible until one day, they wake up and realize that their youth is slipping, that their back is aching for no apparent reason, and that one day, any day, any minute, they could take their last breath and succumb to the sweet kiss that death offers to the masses as they start their walk into the afterlife.

This macabre idea, however, was not on your mind when your arm nearly caught fire in the old, abandoned warehouse on Cherry Chapel Lane in Amhurst, Massachusetts. The mission had been going swimmingly until that moment. Get in, get the target, get out. Simple instructions given by Tony, who was keeping watch of the area while the rest of the Avengers carried out their supposedly simple mission.

The intel Tony received on the Hydra base was from a solid, reliable source, so the attitude of the team going in was less-than-prepared, to say the least. You found out rather quickly that the intel was dead wrong. Rather than the six barely armed and untrained foot soldiers you’d been expecting, the warehouse was filled with highly intelligent and deadly accurate gunmen. To say that you and the team had busted through the ceiling, only to be met with rapid fire machine guns and flaming cannons, was putting it lightly. You were all getting your asses handed to you.

It was a complete mess, and you were hidden in a corner, trying like hell to shoot as many Hydra agents as possible and locate an exit.

“FUCK,” you yelped into your earpiece, “If that had gone any more wrong, I’d need a metal arm like Tin-Man has.”

You were still shaking the burn out of your left hand when Bucky’s voice responded through the speaker, “What happened to ‘easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, y/n’? Can’t take the heat?”  

Heat flooded your cheeks as you smiled at his teasing tone.  

“Okay, lovebirds, now’s not the time to have wicked com sex. Has anyone found a viable exit?” Natasha’s voice rang in your ear. She was right, this was not the time to get distracted by Bucky’s silky-smooth, velvety voice. There would be plenty of time for that later.  

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Steve grunted as he shielded himself from an onslaught of bullets, “Language, y/n.”

“Sorry, Steve.”

You reloaded your gun quickly and snuck a peak around the stack of palettes you’d been hiding behind. To your left you could see Natasha shooting at Hydra agents while standing back-to-back with Peter, who was doing his best to incapacitate people with his web shooters. Steve was in the middle of the warehouse fighting off two soldiers. Thor and Loki were out of your line of sight, but you could hear Loki’s arrogant laughter as sparks and lightning spouted off in every direction.  

Your eyes searched for Bucky, who was obviously the most vulnerable in situations that dealt with Hydra. There were bullets flying in every direction and the fire that you’d almost burned your arm in was beginning its slow, seductive crawl up the wooden beams that kept the warehouse standing up straight.  

A horrible thought crossed your mind, making you feel sick. If the fire got to the ceiling, the entire building could collapse with everyone still inside. Everything was going so terribly wrong.

“We need to get out of here!” You screamed into the com, watching the fire make its way up the side of the building.  

“Don't worry, Iron Man is here to save your sorry asses, again. I’ll cover you guys at the East exit. Get out. Now. Run.” Tony’s tone was confident, joking even, but he'd used his serious “dad” voice, which made you feel worse about how very un-serious you had been about this mission before it started going downhill.  

You glanced towards the exit Tony had mentioned, waiting for the blast that would make a sizeable hole in Hydra’s never-ending slew of soldiers.  

“Brace yourselves, people!” Tony yelled.

You ducked your head as the entire building shook with the blast. Ash and wood shavings rained down on your head and the familiar stench of blood and death surrounded you, nearly swallowing you whole.

Bucky resurfaced in your mind. Is this what he experienced every hour of every day when he was the Winter Soldier? Would this push him back into the shell you had spent months coaxing him out of?  

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You’d have to table those thoughts for later when everyone you loved wasn’t in danger of being shot to death or crushed by the feeble and burning walls of the warehouse.

You peeked around the corner. There was an opening that led to the exit. You took a deep breath and began to sprint.

Your legs carried you across the warehouse as you tried to avoid running on top of dead soldiers. Bullets were still flying in every direction and you kept your head ducked as you found the exit. The wood above you was beginning to disintegrate. You began to turn, wanting to make sure that everyone else had made it out before you, but the ceiling gave out before you got the chance.  

Two familiar arms wrapped around your waist and hoisted you backwards out of the way of the flames and decay. You fell into a strong, hard chest with a grunt. Even after hours of fighting, sweating, and bleeding, Bucky’s musky scent grounded you. He felt like safety. He felt like home. You rested your hand on his metal one, letting the coolness of the metal relieve the burn that was sure to blister.

Bucky was breathing hard as he set you down near the rest of the team.  

“Hey, handsome.” You smiled, looking over his ashy face for cuts or bruises.  

“Hey doll,” he responded, smirking, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, just a small burn,” you said, holding up your left hand for him to examine.

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, glancing around at the other members of the group, silently adding up the headcount to make sure everyone was accounted for, “I almost didn’t make it out.”

You let out a stunted laugh, waiting for a witty reply from Tony or Steve. Bucky inhaled sharply, causing your eyebrows to furrow. Everyone in the group was looking at you with horror in their eyes.  

“Geez, guys. I was joking.” You held your arms out in question. When no one replied, you looked at Bucky, whose wild eyes were focused on your stomach.

Your hands flew to your torso. An immediate wetness coated the fingers that brushed over your left side. You looked down and couldn’t fully understand what you were seeing at first. To the right of your ribs was a hole, the size of a small seed. A warm sensation began to crawl up your body, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. A crimson stain was slowly making its way across your shirt.

The world around you had gone quiet. You looked up, expecting to see the group still gawking at you, but there was a sudden flurry of movement that you couldn’t keep up with. Everything was happening too fast, and you were so, so tired. Even blinking felt like an effort you couldn’t muster the energy for. You sank to your knees, losing your balance in the process, and ended up lying flat on your back. There was a full moon out. How did you not notice that it was a full moon?

‘Where’s Bucky? I need Bucky.’ You thought, searching in the haze for the familiar face of the man that you loved.

A small pressure was being placed on your stomach as you focused on the stars above you. You could faintly hear yelling, but the stars were so beautiful that you tuned them out. Why was no one talking about the stars?  

A sudden and alarming bright light faltered your focus. Steel blue eyes stared into your own.  

You smiled. You’d know those eyes anywhere. They belonged to your beloved Bucky. The man who owned your very soul. But why did they look so scared? Why were they crying?  

“Bucky.” You mumbled, reaching up to rest your hand on his wet cheek. A warm glow had overcome your entire body. It was getting hard to breathe.  

Bucky’s mouth was moving, but the world had long since gone silent for you. The sharp angles of his face were becoming more and more fuzzy. A white light haloed Bucky’s head. You took as deep a breath as you could muster. Everything was numb, but you finally understood what was happening. You finally understood the worry in his eyes.

‘I’m dying.’ You thought, tears welling in your eyes, ‘I don’t want to die. We didn’t get enough time together. I love him. Please, please, no.’  

You were pleading with whoever would listen, but the world around you was beginning to fade. It became clear to you that no one was listening and that this moment with Bucky would be your last.

“I’m so tired, Bucky.” You mumbled, a tear falling down the side of your face into the grass beneath you. You gently closed your eyes, using your last bit of energy to squeeze the hand that was pressed into your wound.  

“I love you, James.”

As the last bit of light faded, you hoped that you’d said it loud enough for him to hear. He needed to know that your dying words were meant for him. That he was the beginning and the end for you. That he was the sun, the moon, and the stars of your universe. That there was love in this dark, cruel world and that he held all of yours in his hands.

‘Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.’ You repeated in your brain, until even thinking became too much effort, and you drifted off into the most restful sleep you’d ever experienced.  

No one thinks about dying when they're young, not really, not unless they have to.

[its-nebula]

V3 Boys x Pregnant S/O in the Killing Game

Warning: DRV3 Spoilers

“S/O is what?!”

He panics and freaks out.

Calms down as soon as you tell him that you’ll get through it with him. It’s just all the more reason to survive.

“But Gonta… no can put child in this hell!”

He has a fire in his eyes that you honestly wouldn’t expect from him. You have to try your hardest to convince him not to fight Monokuma, out of fear of him being punished.

“Gonta will try to survive…for Gonta and S/O’s kid.”

He carries you everywhere from now on, not wanting you to strain yourself. If you ask, he puts you down, but will hold you and keep you close by.

During Class Trials, he immediately shuts any suspicion down.

“S/O can’t be culprit! Was with Gonta!”

You tell him to be wary of Kokichi, as you think Kokichi doesn’t have good intentions with your boyfriend. He just gives you a smile.

“Kokichi wants to end killing game just as much as Gonta!”

When all of you go in the simulation, Gonta makes sure you’re okay and that the baby’s okay. You don’t exactly look pregnant in the simulation, but he still makes sure. After that, he goes off to watch Kokichi, and you’re left to explore on your own.

To make a long story short, when Miu was killed, you noticed Kokichi giving you the side-eye, but didn’t say anything to him. You could tell he knew something that you didn’t.

During the Class Trial, the “Killing Game Busters” were revealed. You didn’t want to believe it was Gonta. You really didn’t. He would never hurt someone like that without a purpose…

“S/O, take care of Gonta’s baby. Gonta will be watching over you and baby!”

You sobbed as you watched his execution. The father of your child was burned alive, and he was never coming back.

Instantly, you unleashed all your rage onto Kokichi and his crocodile tears. Several people had to pull you off of him, claiming that the stress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Besides, you could hit Kokichi with all the punches in the world, but nothing would bring him back…

 Laughs when you tell him about it.

Laughs the second time you tell him about it.

“It is even funnier the second time!”

Doesn’t laugh the third time.

“Wait a minute. You can’t be serious-?!”

Hope you valued your alone time while it lasted, because that is now a thing of the past!

MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!

Lets everyone know that they’re not even allowed near you. He keeps you in his room at all times, you barely even get to sleep in your own bed anymore.

He only really lets you out during Class Trials, and even then he convinces Monokuma to put his podium next to yours.

Constantly talks about how happy he is that he’s going to be a father, to the point everybody knows. Even the Monokubs are a little bit annoyed.  So much for keeping it a secret.

“Hmm, nope! It can’t be me, sorry! I was too busy spending time with my child and my girlfriend~”

His logic is that since you’re pregnant, maybe nobody would kill you because they would feel too bad, so he doesn’t really mind screaming it to the world.

The longer the game goes on, though, the more fucked up things he feels compelled to do, in his efforts to try and stop the killing game.

You practically scream at him when he pretends to be dead.

“Aw, don’t worry your pretty little head! I’m alright, aren’t I?”

Maki keeps sending her threats for him to you.

“If you want to raise the child with a stable 2-Parent family, I suggest you calm your boyfriend down.”

During the fifth trial, things are very tense. Either way, your boyfriend was either dead or going to die. You knew it was all a part of his scheme, but you still thought this was a step too far.

When Kaito was revealed in the Exisal, you bawled your eyes out.

Even as Shuichi explained Kokichi’s thought process, it made nothing better.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye…

And your child would never meet his father.

Wait, you’re what?

Oh no.

In a killing game?!

Oh no.

And he’s the father???

Oh NO.

You’re surprised that he doesn’t faint, by the way he’s acting.

“S/O, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, really!”

You tell him that it’s okay, because you know he’ll make a great parent. You’ve made him a little more confident, but not by a lot.

“We should probably keep this a secret for now. You can never really be too careful in these circumstances.”

Everyone can tell something’s off with him, because he gets really bad Couvade syndrome.

He still tries to help you as much as he can. If you’re craving something he brings you it almost immediately.

If your stomach moves even a tiny bit, he assumes the baby is coming even though he knows better. You have to tell him that it’s only a kick and he needs to take it down a couple of notches.

“Heh…sorry.”

His anxiety is through the ROOF.

Still tries to work on it. He’s got to be strong for you.

Trains with Kaito to help him become stronger, and brings you along with him.

“Hey Shuichi, don’t you think S/O might want to train with us?”

“It’s okay Kaito, S/O gets really sleepy during this time.”

Tries his hardest during class trials. He can’t afford to take shit from anybody and risk getting you killed. Hits the killers with the hard facts and evidence.

Investigates with you by his side.

“Now the baby can see his father in action!”

At the 6th Trial, he reveals your pregnancy, even though Tsumugi already knew.

Nobody else did. How? Guess they weren’t paying attention to your ever-increasing stomach.

When everyone ducks under rocks, Shuichi shields you with his body for extra protection. After the two of you make it out alive, along with Maki and Himiko, the 4 of you go off to start a new life together.

“WHAAAATTTT?!”

Thinks you cheated on him.

He’s very hurt.

You spend almost an hour convincing him that he’s the only one you’ve ever been with. He still doesn’t really believe it, but there’s only one thing to do.

The two of you consult Miu to figure out what in the hell is going on.

“Miu! I never wanted to actually have sperm and be able to create life! Now our child is going to be born in such horrible conditions!”

“Well, be more fuckin’ clear next time, and wrap it up when you get your dick wet, why don’t you?!”

Looks on the bright side.

He was able to get you pregnant, something no other robot was able to do before! That’s a complete win!

You’re still stuck in this school, though, and this was no place to raise a child.

“Robots aren’t allowed to hurt humans, and I can’t risk you killing someone and losing the trial…”

He helps you the best that he can. He gives you any medicine that he can find, and he lets you use him as a heating pad.

Scans daily to see your state of health. Sometimes more than necessary…

“I just did this scan 5 minutes ago? Oh, I hadn’t noticed…”

Takes pictures of your stomach every day to monitor your growth.

Kokichi always makes fun of the two of you.

“Well, I guess that answers my question! Robots do have dicks! Hey S/O, was it all cold and metallic?”

“…that’s not funny.”

When it was revealed during the 6th Trial about Danganronpa, he was conflicted.

The voices in his head– the audience– told him all different things. He was tired, he just wanted to be free. He didn’t want your child to grow up in a world like this.

“S/O, if this continues, and the kid we created joins a future season, I’d never forgive myself. It’s time to end this. Please, when you see them, let them know their father loves them so.”

He sacrificed himself by blowing up the school. As he saw his friends and his significant other huddled beneath a rock, he grinned, knowing they were going to be okay.

Scoffs.

“Well, that’s just my luck that I would cause you to have to bring a new life into this horrible world.”

He’s honestly pretty upset over the whole thing for at least a couple days.

But then he realizes it; he can raise them to be better than he ever was or had a chance at being. He can teach them to do better.

This makes him happy, and he apologizes for being so stand-offish.

“Looks like… we’ve still got a ways to go.”

When the two of you lay down together, he always lays down in a way that his ear is directly pressed against you stomach.

He talks to the child a lot.

“Don’t worry, little one. We’ll get you and everyone else out of here and to safety. I love you so much.”

Truth be told, he’s a little scared that he’s a  threat to the kid. After what happened in his past, what happened to his family, what happened to his lover…

You tell him to try to not think about it, and you know that he’s learned from the past.

The two of you only tell a couple people that you trust; namely, Shuichi and Kirumi. They’re both really happy for you!

Kirumi helps out a lot by getting you whatever you need for the day. She doesn’t get at all bothered by your morning sickness, and even offers to clean.

After the motive videos come out, Ryoma watches his and though he’s a little hurt, it doesn’t stop his determination to leave.

While she’s cleaning Ryoma’s room, Ryoma confides in her for advice.

“I feel like…I won’t be enough for our kid. Look at me now, I’m nothing more than an empty shell. I just… want to be enough for our family.”

SLAM!

Ryoma fell to the ground with a light thud, and that was the last anybody ever heard from him.

Crying out as you saw the piranhas tear away his flesh, you fainted on the spot.

You didn’t even have time to investigate, because the Class Trial had started.

You appreciated how seriously Kirumi was taking this trial. She kept making glances at you, but you assumed it was because she felt bad that your child would have to be without a father.

Until…

No, it couldn’t be. She’d gained your trust, only to betray you in the end? What kind of sick joke was this?!

As she was executed, you looked down at your stomach, rubbing it.

“Looks like we’ve still got a ways to go, kid…”

Wildly switching between happy, sad, and terrified.

On the one hand, he’s happy to be a father to your child. You were the love of his life, and he wanted to do his part and take care of the kid.

On the other hand, when you tell him the news, he paces back and forth, trying to find a way to get you to be as safe as possible. He already survived one killing game, how hard could it be to let the two of you be the last survivors again?

He asked Monokuma to see if you could have the easy way out.

“Monokuma, I know you probably want me to still participate, but my girlfriend, she’s pregnant now, so can you please just-”

“Puhuhuhu~! All applications made are final, buddy! It looks like we may just have another member in a short 9 months! Well, the more the merrier!”

Shit.

After that “lovely” conversation, Rantaro was more determined than ever to find a way out of the game.

He’d already lost his sisters, and he wouldn’t dream of losing you and the child too.

When the countdown motive for the first murder is introduced, he parts with you for just a few minutes, to record the videos that you and your other classmates would later find. He wanders in the library in order to do something, but he’s distracted when a shot put ball falls behind him. As he goes to pick it up, he’s struck in the back of the head.

Finding his body, you wanted to throw up, and not from morning sickness. 

Nobody knew of your pregnancy yet, so nobody really knew how deep into despair you’d fallen.

Though, they still felt sorry for you, because it was obvious the two of you were together.

You didn’t feel right being angry at Kaede when she was revealed as the culprit, especially as she showed deep remorse.

“I didn’t mean it, S/O. I’m so sorry…”

Tears pricked your eyes as she was snatched back by the chains.

You forgive her.

Over the moon at first.

Yes, that’s a pun. Shut up, I know it’s bad.

This man is DANCING while he’s celebrating.

“WOO! I”M GONNA BE A FATHER!”

He’s loud enough that everyone knows within 10 minutes of you telling him.

Well.

When he has some alone time, he frowns to himself. He’s sick, What if he doesn’t live long enough to see their smiling face for the first time? Hear their first laugh?

These invasive thoughts clouded his mind, as he started to cough up blood.

“D-Damn it…”

Kaito decided not to tell you, not just because he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t want you to stress and possibly cause damage to the child.

He talks to your stomach everyday.

“What’s up, my little star!”

He’s extremely proud and isn’t afraid to show you off.

The more ill he gets, the more hope he has that you’ll be just fine. You have to be!

After he’s locked in the bathroom, he tries to find a way out. Any way out, he needed to make sure you were safe. Kokichi couldn’t keep him locked up forever! 

When he and Kokichi make their deal, he does it in your interest.

“If Monokuma can’t solve the murder, I’ll finally get to walk out of here and start my family! Right?!”

But their plan failed. As you watched his execution, you screamed, pounding on the screen, begging Monokuma to let him go, please. You’d do anything! Soon, his coughing got worse, and he was soon on the ground, pink all around him. He’d died of his own accord.

You smiled happily at the bittersweet moment. He died of his own accord, no longer a part of Monokuma’s twisted game.

You knew he was above, watching you from the stars.

“Did you say you’re pregnant…? My, what an interesting turn of events!”

Did this man just say it was interesting?

You told him that this was serious, and that you needed to find a way out of here now.

“Keheehee... you don’t really think I’d let anything happen to you, do you? It’s clear Monokuma won’t let us go, even under these circumstances. Besides, I have my own kin developing inside your body, you need extra attention now!”

He will literally give you a tsunami of compliments everyday about how your body seems to be handling the pregnancy.

“S/O, your body is just so radiant today!”

Tells you stories about motherhood in other cultures.

Knows the best herbal remedies to calm symptoms such as headaches or nausea.

Nervous that you keep having to go to the bathroom, guides you there and back.

You really don’t know why he completely lost his shit by killing Angie and Tenko.

You convinced yourself that it was because of the oppressive student council, but why Tenko?

As he revealed his true self, you were horrified. He...was a serial killer?

The Korekiyo you came to love was a serial killer?

You were thrown into despair as you came to terms with his true colors. Nothing made sense anymore. Not only was your boyfriend and father of your first-born child dead, but he’d been batshit insane this entire time?

Maybe the next time you see red rope and hear a promise of “pleasure like you’ve never experienced”, you’ll politely decline.

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

love me love me (say that you love me) - spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

title from lovefool by the cardigans 

summary: after a close brush with death in the field, y/n visits an injured spencer in the hospital to have a heart to heart.

warnings: a lil bit of angst, fluff bc im incapable of writing pure angst, descriptions of injury

word count: 1,987 

notes: this is my submission for @veraiconcos​‘ fic writer challenge, i spent a super long time on this and i really hope you guys enjoy it as its one of my favorite things i’ve ever written ☺️

********************

settling in to what would be another evening of unfortunate, unwanted solitude due to your boyfriend having yet another late night at work, you stretched out across the sofa, wine glass in hand, ready to relax after a hard day’s work.

that was until your phone began to ring and vibrate obnoxiously across the wooden coffee table.

“jj? hi, what’s up?” you inquired, curious as to why she was calling you during a case.

“we got the guy, but spence wasn’t so lucky.” she began hesitantly. “he almost got shot, but he was stabbed a few times.”

she heard your stifled gasp through the speaker, cutting you off before you would inevitably begin rambling off questions, a habit of spencer’s you’d acquired after a long while of knowing him. “don’t worry, he keeps telling everyone he’s fine. doctor says the wounds might scar, but overall he should be alright.”

you scrunched your eyes closed, willing your racing heart to slow with the news that spencer would be okay. despite jj’s calming tone and the relatively good news from the call, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that your boyfriend was not, in fact, okay.

“thanks, babe. would you mind telling me where you guys are? am i allowed to come visit?” your voice took on a hopeful tone that your hands betrayed, anxiously twirling a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun.

“visiting hours ended a little while ago, but i’m sure i can pull a few strings for you.” your chest deflated with a relieved sigh at the thought of having visual confirmation spencer would be fine. “i just texted you the address, see you soon, y/n.”

“you too. bye,” the phone dropped onto the table with a hollow clatter. you downed what little was left in your wine glass before standing up from the sofa to get ready. you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with spencer so you put in an extra bit of effort to wear some of his favorite pieces of clothing of yours, just to bring a smile to his face.

———————————————

after receiving special clearance from jj at the front desk, you headed down the hallway. you never liked hospitals; you found something about about the stark white, sterile halls cold and off putting.

the door slowly opened, a gentle creak emanating from its well-used hinges. you had hoped your entrance would be quiet enough to let the boy wonder rest, but alas, he had woken up.

though the way his irises glistened in the artificial light when he saw you was just as gratifying.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” the interrogative sounded less like a question and more like an exclamation of awe, but you weren’t complaining.

“what, you didn’t think i’d show up when a little birdie told me my boyfriend was stabbed on duty? some girlfriend i’d be,” you scoffed sarcastically.

the plastic legs of the chair skidded across the linoleum as you dragged it next to the bed. spencer held out a hand towards you to hold, a sure fire sign something was wrong.

he loved affection, especially from you, but he only seemed to initiate it on blue moons.

you gratefully slipped your fingers in between his and gave them a quick, reassuring squeeze. “what happened, hon?”

his amber hues flicked to several spots around the relatively uninteresting room before landing on your intertwined digits. “we raided his apartment just like we usually do and i happened to be the first one to come across him. i saw he had a gun and i’m lucky i ducked pretty quickly or else i might not even be here at all.

“morgan and i moved in on him to make the arrest, but it slipped our minds that the profile said he was hyper-vigilant and paranoid, and i failed to notice knife he had in his other hand and he stabbed me a few times before emily pulled him away from me.” spencer recalled with an expertise that came as a surprise to absolutely no one who knew him.

“you say that like you’re reciting a poem,” you frowned, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “you could’ve died, spence.”

“i guess it’s just not that big of a deal to me?” he seemed to question his own statement as it passed through his lips. “i think i’ve grown so accustomed to putting my life on the line that i just doesn’t even faze me anymore.”

“i get it, but don’t you ever - i don’t know - get worried you won’t come back to me one of these days?” you averted your eyes to the floor.

his grip on your hand tightened exponentially, causing your gaze to snap up to his. “of course i do, i worry about you all the time. isn’t it normal to worry about the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

his admission of love brought heat to your cheeks and tears to your eyes. “good, good, i’m glad we both agree on that then.” you smiled sadly.

the presence of an oddly heavy silence weighed down on both of you as you sat in thought. “do you ever get tired, y/n?” the genius queried quietly, elaborating when he noticed the confusion etched across your features. “i mean - well - tired of me? of my life being on the line every time i go to work? of thinking that maybe that time you said goodbye to me when i left would be the last time? doesn’t that exhaust you?”

this was exactly what you had been anticipating since jj called. the drawn-out periods of unusual silence, less eye contact than normal, the anxious fidgeting. not that you’d tell him, but you’d subtly began subconsciously profiling as well. 

  “if you’re asking if i get tired of those things, then yes, i do,” you murmured softly. “but if you’re asking if being with you while i have to deal with all those things is exhausting, then my answer is no. absolutely not.”

another pause. spencer played with your fingers, fiddling around with the ring he’d bought for you as fond memories swirled through his mind. “wouldn’t it be easier if you were with someone else? i don’t know, maybe someone with an average career where they don’t look at dead bodies and arrest serial killers all the time? maybe a barista or something less traumatizing than what i do?”

your lips curled up into a smile as you giggled. “yeah, i mean, of course that’d be easier, but when has life ever been easy? and besides, why would i want a barista when i could have a badass, genius iq level guy like you?”

he grinned, holding eye contact for the longest period of time since you passed through the door. “i think those attributes directly contradict each other, but whatever makes you happy, love.” 

the tension had lifted, conversation flowing with ease, yet you could still tell there was something off about reid. something left unspoken.

“hey,” you murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “you sure you’re alright?”

a moment of hesitation flickered through his eyes before he answered. “of course i am. didn’t i say i was?”

“you did, but you don’t have the best track record when it comes to being honest about your emotions.” you watched several emotions pass through his eyes - one of his tells; those hazel hues could be read like a book.

he seemed to take a deep, collective inhale before he spoke in a small voice. “i know you said you weren’t tired of me, but i’m just scared you’re lying. n-not that i think you would ever be untruthful,” he immediately corrected himself upon understanding how his words could be perceived.

“i-” tears brimmed his coffee colored optics, terrifying you for what he might say next. “you’re the most important thing in my life- in the world even- and i’m just worried you’ll leave me. i’ll come home one night when you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this life and you have all your bags packed, ready to leave. i don’t want to lose you. i can’t lose you.”

noticing a few drops had landing on your lap, you realized you’d been crying as he admitted his insecurities to you. “i love you so much, spencer. more than anything in the world. and i know how hard it is to quiet those voices, and i know whatever i say will only be enough to quell them for a while, but you’re everything to me. just know i would never, ever even dream of leaving you.”

you sniffled, wiping the tear tracks from your face when you looked over to spencer. he held eye contact with you, something you knew was challenging for him to do.

“y/n,” he moved a hand to cup your cheek. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

you let his words sink in and nodded nearly imperceptibly. you laid a kiss on his palm before turning to him again. “absolutely. i am wholly and completely devoted to you, spencer reid.”

his cheeks burned and his brows furrowed, almost as if he was having trouble accepting your straightforward answer. “do you promise?”

you debated a sarcastic response, but you were unsure what his reaction might be in such a vulnerable state, and you didn’t want to find out.

“i do, my love.” you murmured, crossing your pinky with his. he settled, visibly, too, at your admission of adoration. you knew he struggled with fully trusting those around him and you were immeasurably proud of him in this moment.

“are you heading home?” his soft lilt broke the silence that had blanketed the room with its persistent presence. “i wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

“are you kidding? after all that rom-com sappiness you think i want to leave?” you both laughed, basking in the positivity of the moment. “i’m afraid you’re stuck with me. look, i even brought a change of clothes and everything.”

while you loved the adorable look of surprise on his face, you almost wished you could wipe away any doubts he may harbor in his mind about you and your unwavering loyalty. you looked up at him again as he spoke. “are you going to sleep in that chair?”

“i’d lay with you, but you’ve got wounds everywhere and no way in hell am i risking re-opening anything that’s been sealed.” you held your hands up in mock defense, earning a chuckle from the doctor.

“you could, um, put your head on my chest,” his cheeks tinted pink. “i love it when you do that.” you planted a quick kiss on his cheekbone before pressing a longer one to his lips.

every time your lips met, as cliched as it was, it felt like the first again. not in every way, they were missing the same awkward teeth clashing and spit swapping as the original, but you could almost feel every ounce of passion jolting all the way through your being. and most assuredly, spencer reciprocated your feelings as he chased your lips every single time they made to retreat from his.

you pulled the chair as close to the hospital bed as you could and rested your head on his chest. the lyrical, constant beat of spencer’s lulled you to sleep, creating a symphony just for you.

before your eyes closed, you intertwined spencer’s fingers with yours, prompting him to look down at you. “i’ve got promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep.”

though he knew it was medically impossible, spencer reid’s heart leapt a mile in his chest at the irrevocable love he felt for you, both in that moment and always as he completed the line, “and miles to go before i sleep.”

********************

guys wait i think this is the first ending i’ve written that i actually enjoy and i just finished this at 1am last night and i am so sleep deprived

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[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

*

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~