#grieving!reader

[hexxedcore]

18+ MDNI

caitlyn, who is shameless in pampering you and spoiling you. you deserve only the best, of course, and with her family luxury it isn’t as though the expenses will be missed by her parents.

caitlyn, who makes sure her purchases are going to good use by making you test out each pair of lacy navy panties she buys with her.

caitlyn, who indulges in a well-deserved form of stress relief in the shape of you after coming home from her new demanding position beside ambessa. who essentially gets pussy drunk after driving you past your fragile limits.

caitlyn, who takes advantage of her family’s spacious mansion to take you just about anywhere and everywhere should the desire arise. tobias still refuses to sit on the common room lounge.

caitlyn, who apologises for each hour she was away by punctuating them in kisses up your thighs before she eats you out. who takes you with the hunger of a starving woman.

[dairyfaerie]

You’re Not Her, But You Are

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Inspired by @maybellewriting

Warnings : Grief and loss (pregnancy-related),Multiverse trauma, Strong emotional tension, Mild horror themes (break-in, identity confusion),Physical grabbing (non-sexual, non-violent)Crying, kneeling, emotional collapse, Themes of worship/devotion around pregnancy/

Sinister Mark/Lensless Mark

The news blared on low, the light from the screen bright and bold .

You weren’t even really watching—just listening, praying, holding your belly like it might keep you grounded. Invincible was on the screen. Also known as Mark Grayson…YOUR Mark Grayson.

Your Mark Grayson was on the screen. Bruised. Bleeding. Still fighting in the city with the other heroes.

Still Alive.

Your fingers curled into the blanket over your lap. “Just come home,” you whispered, rubbing your swollen tummy absentmindedly. “Please come home. I need you. WE need you.”

You were seven months pregnant, your days of being a hero put on temporary hold. It had three days since you’d seen Mark. Three agonizing days of praying and worrying for him, Eve, Rex ..everyone. Three days of feeling guilty for not helping save lives.

And as you prayed for a miracle… the air slowly shifted. Cold. Heavy. Familiar in a way that made your stomach twist.

Whoosh.

…Whoosh?

You blinked and a small smile broke across your face as you came to an instantaneous conclusion.

He’s home!

Mark was home!

A shadow moved across the window and the house shook on its foundation. The lights flickered slightly as you moved to get up with a soft grunt, about to waddle slowly towards the front door to meet your husband. But.. before you were even half way off the couch… it exploded of its hinges, wood splintering everywhere.

You let out a little cry of surprise and shock, your movement stuttering to a halt. Your hands flew to your tummy, eyebrows crinkling as splinters rained onto the floor.

He stood in the smoke, panting. Wide-eyed. Dirty. A little bloodied. And completely still. His body was hidden in the shadow…yet You could tell that something was wrong...just not WHAT.

“M-Mark? But why-? How-?”

And you didn’t understand. How could he be here? You turned around to look at the news on the living room TV again—Mark was still fighting. Still on screen. Still fighting for his life. For the world. For you.

You let out a little sound as you heard the man step into the house ..and finally saw him in the light.

It WAS Mark.

Only it …wasn’t. He was more ragged. Like he'd been dragged through hell. The same face ..only harsher and crueler , same body only slightly bigger and tensed with contained energy—everything was off. The eyes. Dark and all consuming. The way he looked at you like you were the last thing he expected and the only thing keeping him standing.

Your eyes looked at him up and down...your brain not wrapping around the fact that this was NOT your Mark.

You barely had time to react before he moved.

Fast.

Predatory.

He was across the room in seconds, grabbing you by the wrist, dragging you up from the couch with force that made your knees buckle. His arms wrapped around you so tightly, like he could crush the truth out of you. Like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your breath hitched and you let out a frightened mewl.Your large stomach pressed into his rigid body as you pushed against his chest with shaky palms—.

And he froze, his expression shifting into one of shock.

Not like a man realizing.Like a man shattering.

You didn’t speak.

Was too scared to. Neither did he.

The silence was thick.He held you, stiff and trembling. You were locked against him, trapped in heat and heartbeat and something that felt like panic drowning in longing.

Then—His arms slowly loosened.

You dropped back down to the couch, scooting back against the seat and covering yourself.He didn’t chase you. Just looked down—Eyes fixed on your belly.A slow, agonized breath left him.

And then he dropped to his knees.

No words. No sound. Just him… there. Crashing down to the floor in front of you. Shoulders shaking. Head bowed in reverence.

Like he was praying. Worshipping at your altar.

You trembled and pulled the edge of your sweater down as you looked at him. He didn’t move.

Not until his hands—calloused and cracked—lifted toward you.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please let me…”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before gently, reverently, placing his palms on either side of your belly.

You flinched, too afraid to stop him because if he was anything like your Mark...You could be killed in an instant—But he didn’t press, he didn’t do anything in fact.

“M-Mark…” You said softly, fearfully.

If he heard you he made no move to acknowledge the fact…only sank forward, eyes squeezed shut, resting his forehead against the soft curve of your abdomen like it was sacred.

“You…You’re real…,” he said hoarsely. “God, you’re HERE.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, still dazed and confused —but the pain in his face stopped you. The raw, unchecked emotion made your heart clench.

His fingers trembled where they touched you, holding your stomach like he thought it might slip away.

“You don’t know me,” ‘Mark’ said, finally looking up at you with those sad, sad eyes. “ But I knew you. And you knew me…You were mine…and I loved you. And you died in my arms.”

The world stopped spinning and your heart hammered heavily in your chest.

His lip trembled as he spoke softer now. He looked twenty years older than her Mark.

“You were pregnant then too,” he said. “Not this far along, but I could tell. We’d briefly talked about names...about naming the baby Debbie after mom...and Markus if it was a boy…I kept trying to get you out of the city. Away from Dad...from the dangers of it all...But you wouldn’t leave them behind. You said—” His voice cracked. “You insisted that we couldn’t abandon people who needed help. That it wasn’t right. That if we died, at least the baby would know what we stood for.”

He didn’t move. Still kneeling. Still bleeding, still breathing too fast. Still watching you like you were a memory slipping through his fingers.

“I held you in my arms after I found your broken body in the rubble,” he whispered, voice splintered. “You had used your abilities to save civilians from a crumbling building…but you couldn’t save yourself. Had ran out of energy….I arrived only in time to hear your dying breath. There was so much blood. You wouldn’t stop apologizing. You just kept saying, ‘I’m sorry. I wanted you to meet her. I wanted you to be a dad.' "He choked, both hands gripping your thighs. Rubbing them like he was worried you’d be in pain.

“I told you I was proud of you. That you were brave. That you saved them. That you had given it your all and done the very best you could…But you just cried and told me you were scared.”

A beat.

Two.

You reached out. Slowly. Fingers brushing through his hair—matted and rough and too familiar. You hadn’t realized that you were crying, tears falling down round flushed cheeks, your body shaking with emotion. His whole body shuddered.

“I held you,” he whispered. “I held you until your body went cold and the light faded from your beautiful eyes..and I said your name..Begged for you to wake up. But you were already gone.”

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. Deep. Labored. Strangled with grief.

“ Angstrom came then,” he said. “And I soon found myself and other versions of me being hurled through dimensions. Ripped worlds and universes apart ..all of us trying to find you again. I thought—maybe—if I just kept going, I’d find a version of you who lived. Who still had the baby. Who didn’t die because I wasn’t fast ..wasn’t STRONG enough.”

His fingers gripped tighter around your stomach. Then instantly loosened, like he was afraid to hurt you. He looked up again—face wrecked and raw.

“I don’t want to take him from you,” he said. “But… I needed to know you existed. That somewhere, you were safe. That you didn’t die in pain...And now that I’ve found you...I don’t want to lose you again.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t as you sobbed softly.

You just...were.

And you wrapped your arms around him. Pressed ‘Marks’ head back to your belly. Let him shake..

He kissed your stomach through fabric. Again. Again. Gentle. Reverent. His lips moved with the kind of worship that didn’t ask for permission because grief had stolen consent a long time ago.

You stayed there for a long time.

No time. No world. Just breath and tears and two people who'd broken in different timelines but still ended up here—together.

[baldieboi]

Mother

Part 2

You died. To the Primarchs you were like a mother. They came to say their last goodbyes to you. Angst.

@ghrgrsfdesfrfg @w-40-k

Rogal Dorn

Dorn stood at attention besides you, his posture perfect despite the grief that wracked his frame. In his hands was a single yellow flower, it was a symbol of his Legion but also of remembrance.

"I failed you" he said simply. "I was charged with your protection and I failed. There is no excuse for this failure, no justification that can diminish it."

He placed the flower on your chest, his hands steady despite his anguish.

"But before I failed you as a guardian, you succeeded in making me feel like a son. You taught me that duty and love were not opposing forces but two sides of the same coin. You made me understand that the greatest fortress is not built of stone but of the bonds between people."

His voice remained steady but tears tracked down his cheeks.

"I built walls around my heart to protect it from loss. But you... you found the gates I didn't even know existed. You walked through them as if they weren't there and made yourself at home in the spaces I thought were empty."

He knelt, finally breaking his perfect posture.

"I will build you a monument, Mother. Not of stone or steel but of the love you showed me. Every act of protection, every shield raised in defense of the innocent, every wall built to shelter rather than exclude... they will all be offerings to your memory."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Thank you for teaching me that strength is not just about endurance but about the courage to care. I love you, Mother. I will carry your lessons forward."

Konrad Curze

Curze approached like a shadow, his pale features drawn with anguish. He moved as if he expected you to disappear at any moment... as if this was another cruel vision.

"I saw this" he whispered, his voice broken. "I saw your death a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. But I couldn't... I couldn't make myself believe it was real. I told myself they were false futures, possibilities that could be avoided."

He reached out to touch your face with trembling fingers.

"You were the only good thing in my visions, Mother. When the darkness showed me nothing but horror and blood, you were there, a point of light that never went out. You made me believe that prophecy was not always doom."

His voice cracked.

"You kissed my forehead and called me son even knowing what I would become. Even seeing the monster I carry inside, you found something worth loving. How did you do that? How did you see past all the darkness?"

He collapsed beside you, his composure finally shattering.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry the visions showed me everything except how to prevent this. I would have given anything, my life, my soul, my sanity, anything to keep you here just one more day."

Broken sobs wracked his frame.

"You were my forgiveness, Mother. The proof that even something as tainted as me could be loved. Without you I'm just the monster again. Just the Night Haunter with no hope of dawn."

Sanguinius

Sanguinius came to you with wings folded tight against his back as if he was trying to make himself smaller, less imposing. His golden hair was disheveled, his perfect features marked by grief.

"My visions failed me" he said, his voice like breaking crystal. "I saw the darkness coming for you but I couldn't... I thought I could change it. I thought love could rewrite fate."

He knelt besides you with grace, his wings spreading slightly to shelter you both.

"You said love would be my strength, that it would be the thing that saved me from the darkness in my blood. But without you here I don't know how to fight it alone."

His voice grew thick with tears. He touched your hand with his own, so gently it was barely contact.

"I'm afraid, Mother. Afraid of what I'll become without your love to guide me. Afraid that I'll forget the lessons you taught me and become just another weapon in the Emperor's arsenal."

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, the gesture heartbreakingly gentle.

"Fly with me, Mother. When I take to the skies, be the wind beneath my wings. Help me remember that angels are meant to be guardians, not destroyers. I love you. I will love you until the stars burn out."

Ferrus Manus

Ferrus knelt besides you with something precious in his silver hands, a pendant he had been crafting as a gift for you. He almost destroyed it in shock when he heard of your death but it was now perfectly completed. The metal caught the light like captured starfire.

"I finished it" he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I worked for three days straight, I didn't stop. I had to... I had to finish it for you."

He placed the pendant around your neck with infinite care, his metal fingers surprisingly gentle.

"It's not much, I know. Just silver and care, but I put everything I had into it. Every technique I knew, every skill I possessed. I wanted to give you something worthy of the love you showed me."

His voice cracked.

"You were the only one who saw the artisan beneath the warrior, Mother. When everyone else looked at these hands and saw weapons, you saw tools of creation. You taught me that strength could be used to build as well as destroy."

He touched the pendant where it lay against your neck.

"I don't know how to create beautiful things in a world without you in it. My hands feel cold now, colder than the metal they're made of. But I'll try, Mother. I'll try to remember that you saw beauty in what I made."

Tears fell onto the silver pendant.

"Thank you for loving the man inside the metal. Thank you for seeing past the machine to find the soul. I love you, Mother. I'll carry that love in everything I forge."

Angron

Angron approached slowly as if his very presence might somehow harm her memory. The Nails were silent for once, shocked into stillness by the magnitude of his loss.

"The pain stopped" he said wonderingly, touching the scars on his skull. "For the first time since they put these things in my head, the pain just... stopped. I think it's because you're not here to feel it anymore."

He knelt beside you with infinite care, his massive frame trembling.

"You were my peace, Mother. The only time the Nails went quiet was when you held me. You would run your fingers over my cheeks and tell me stories about worlds where no one fought, where children played instead of bled."

His voice broke.

"I wanted to be better for you. I tried so hard to be the son you deserved instead of the broken thing the high-riders made me. But the Nails... they never let me rest, never let me be gentle."

He reached out to touch your face, his scarred hands impossibly tender.

"You said I was still your son, even with these scars, even with the rage. You said the love I showed my gladiator brothers proved there was still humanity in me. You made me believe I was more than just a weapon."

His tears fell like rain.

"I'm scared, Mother. Scared that without you to remind me I'll forget that I'm supposed to be human. Scared that the Nails will take everything good you saw in me and grind it to nothing."

He pressed his forehead to your hand.

"I love you, Mother. You were my salvation and now you're gone and I don't know how to find my way back to the light."

[secrectlyicky]

joel comes home after a long day, exhausted but ever so happy to see his girl. years of fatigue evident on his body, all of it simmering away when your arms wrap around him.

he rushes in and out of the shower to find you in bed, on his side with a book in your hand and the lamp casting a glow over your face. your smile relaxes him further when you beckon him closer, patting the spot between your legs.

he settles with his back to your chest, years of vulnerability so easily on display for only you. he never thought he'd have this, but somehow he found gold within you. one hand rakes through his hair, the other resting on his chest.

he leans into your touch, his eyes closing as you ask about his day. your voices are hushed and bodies warm, a comfort buzzing in the air. your hands move down to his stomach, then to the hem of his shirt.

slipping underneath the fabric to softly rub him, his eyes fluttering open to look up at you. despite him being an older, rugged and worn man who'd carried the worlds burden on his shoulders, he's never looked so soft.

your lips softly press to his and he indulges gently, feeling your hands move from his chest to the waist band of his pants. only separating for a moment before his eyes close again, a quiet, content sigh leaving his lips.

this was supposed to be 2 sentences abt how i want to jerk off this sleepy old man and smother him in kisses but oh well. maybe i'll continue it

[theorphicangel]

childhood best friend! suguru coming to your wedding, (still yearning for you) but keeps it to himself because he's genuinely happy for you and wishes you the best.

just so happens you find out your partner is cheating on you on the morning of your wedding.

of course you're disorientated and sobbing from your heartbreak but suguru is there to get you all away from prying eyes and murmurs of pity.

you spend what should be the best day of your life with him and as a distraction you both talk about your childhood. you admit your tiny crush that you had on him since you were six. he smiles stating that he always knew but was waiting for you to finally tell him.

it's bittersweet....the day he thought that he would lose you to someone else is the day you come back to him. it's a selfish thought but he's glad you dodged a bullet.

after all... now he gets to have you all to himself.

[nayrring]

Kagaya said if i'm going down, i will be going down looking cunty as shit

[lizardboiii]

At The Tone ┃ DCU

Barry Allen x Spider-Woman!Reader

┃ Summary: Sometimes bad things happen to good people - and that’s where the Justice League comes in. Too bad you weren’t interested.

“Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be" Billie Eilish, "What Was I Made For?"

│cw: SFW, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, hurt/comfort, violent themes

│wc: 3.9k

│chapters: One shot

│notes: This fic has been sitting unfinished (with 2k words!!) in my drafts for a WHILE. randomly decided it needed to see the light of day ig. was gonna make it nsfw but i low key hate it and just wanted too move on oops. enjoy <3

・❥・

│One Shot: At The Tone

You have five new messages.

“Good afternoon, Spider-Woman this is Cla-”

You heard a throat clear.

“It’s Superman. I see you still aren’t picking up any of the team’s calls,” He swallowed thickly, “I understand your recent loss was… hard. Something none of us would have wished for anybody.”

You could feel the tension in his voice.

“Please take all the time you need. The league is more than capable of taking care of New York in your absence for the time being.”

The sound of a pen clicking disrupted the message every so often, “But at least give us some indication you're alive…and well. The team cares about you,” He chuckled warmly, “Even “Mr. I Work Alone” Batman himself.”

His laugh dropped abruptly with a soft sigh, “Call me back when you can.”

Beep

You crawled out of bed slowly, dragging your duvet behind you like a cloak. The plush cotton laid heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if this was how Big Blue felt every morning - the weight of knowing everything depending on him once he bore his iconic red cape. 

You knew what that weight felt like, and you knew what it felt like to have it all come crashing down.

You have four new messages 

“How’s it hanging, Spidy? Haha, you get it?” A dramatic sigh escaped the machine, “Sorry, poor timing.”

He took a moment to regroup, “It's Green Lantern, just calling to check in. Headquarters has been depressing without you. I mean even Martian Manhunter is down in the dumps. It's a total bummer.”

Another sigh, “Listen you don't have to call me back if you don’t want to, but at least let Flash know you're still alive. He needs you more than he lets on.”

Beep

You groaned at the shrill ring of the answering machine. The outdated tech was too cherished to be discarded but the pulsing headaches you received from it almost outweighed the fond memories of Aunt May.

Thoroughly woken up, you entered your kitchenette. Your eyes shifted between the week old coffee pot on your stove to the half empty Hennessy bottle next to it. 

Maybe this time you would make the right choice. A sober evening is a good evening. However, the battle was always rigged to begin with and the winner already predetermined.

The Hennessy felt burdensome in your hand as you took a long swig. It burned violently down your throat, eating at your skin, before finally settling warmly in your stomach. Though you hated to admit it, it satisfied you more than any pot of coffee could.

Staggering to your couch, courtesy of one of New York’s finest sidewalks, you flopped down. The cushions were well used and musty. But who were you to pass up a free couch?

You have three new messages

“Spider-Woman.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Your recent inactivity has caused some concerns regarding your whereabouts. The league seems to be having a hard time focusing on missions with your absence.”

Bats’ uncertainty leaked through the phone as he thought of his next sentence, “You have my condolences, Webs. However, the league cannot continue to work with this distraction. Please report to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

He hesitated, “We are worried.”

Beep

An involuntary snort escaped you. Bats’ attempt at comfort was interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly awkward for a leader of the Justice League. Though you supposed dark and brooding was his brand.

You have two new message

“Greetings, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman speaking.”

You could hear muffled arguing in the background.

“Batman may have been a bit…straightforward in that last voicemail,” She attempted a fake laugh, “Please do not mind his bluntness, he is merely just as concerned as the rest of us. In his own way at least.”

A loud slam made her curse under her breath.

“I apologize I must go, the “children” are fighting again. Don’t hesitate to call back. See you soon, Webs.”

Beep

Lifting the liquor to your lips, your brows creased when only a drop hit your tongue. Out already?

You let out an exaggerated sigh before placing the empty bottle on your coffee table. A quick glance at your barren pantry told you everything you needed to know. You’d have to go out and get some more. You felt your face scrunch. That means you have to go out in public.

You weighed your options. 

You could stay inside and continue to peacefully hide from the world, but you're guaranteed to sober up eventually.

Or you could make a quick trip to the convenience store down the road and pray the minimum wage employee can’t smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. 

You hummed thoughtfully. Though, now that you think about it, there’s a off chance you might run into the supe that’s covering your city for the time being. Then again, there’s a very high chance it’s not someone from the Justice League, a member from The Team at best. 

Massaging your forehead, you tried to remember the last time a Justice League member took a leave of absence. A blonde goatee flashed in your mind.

That’s right. Green Arrow was out for a while when he got busted up pretty bad. His protégé, Speedy, ended up babysitting Star City in his absence. You bit your lip. 

But you didn’t have one of those anymore.

You have one new message

“Hey Webs! Sent me to voicemail again, huh?”

An awkward laugh made the machine crackle.

“Just calling to check up on you. How are you doing? Feeling alright? Just say the word and I can grab you anything from anywhere. I mean literally anywhere. They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing!”

You could practically hear the large smile embedded on his face.

A large sigh passed through the speaker, “It’s been a month now. The team misses you…I miss you. A lot actually.”

He paused.

“Just call me back alright? I need to know if you're okay.”

Beep

Your hand paused over your front door handle. Flash’s deep voice was like a siren's call, beckoning you in. 

What you’d give to turn around. What you'd do to call him back. It took everything in you to force yourself away from his voice.

Your best friend. 

Your confidant. 

Your everything. 

You have zero new messages

・❥・

You weaved through the bustling sidewalk with a slight wobble, managing to dodge a third of the people you almost crashed into. Night was quickly approaching. That meant the streets were only going to get busier. 

More people = More crime = More superheroes.

Fumbling into a dimly lit alley, you avoided Main Street completely. It was too risky. Even in your civilian disguise there was no guarantee your voice wouldn’t be recognized - mainly by your teammates but especially by… Flash.

You recalled how often you sought each other out in the Hall of Justice. Whether it was meddling in the business of others, or simply enjoying the company of one another.

His hand always seemed to find its way to the small of your back. Gently resting. While his thumb delicately circled the thin fabric of your suit. 

He leaned in closer than he should. The dull smell of his cologne inevitably picked up by your heightened senses. 

It wasn't how friends should behave - but that's all you ever were. Friends.

Thwack!

You slammed yourself against one of the side walls in surprise, extinguishing your mind of complex thoughts. Creeping closer, you cursed in your head when harsh thumps and muffled grunting filled the air. 

“Where’s my money, Huey?”

Crack!

“I-I don’t know! Please!”

Whack!

You recognized the tell-tale sound of blood splattering against the ground, akin to paint splashing. The sound made you nauseous. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you thought of your next move. 

Now, on any normal occasion you’d swing in all heroic and save the day. But today was different. You were different. 

Excuses flooded your brain as you tried to explain to yourself why you felt little desire to help the abused man. 

Your suit was at home crammed somewhere in between an ugly Christmas sweater and a latex bodysuit you practically begged Cat Woman not to give you. 

Even if you had the energy, you were still considered MIA to the league. You’d basically be spoon feeding them your location. 

Your internal dilemma didn’t last long as the pummeling swiftly came to an end. Peaking around the corner, you watched the assistants retreat into an adjacent alley. They moved lazily. Clearly they didn’t expect to be caught.

You could still catch them.

You found yourself making an internal description. Two Caucasian males both wearing black beanies and disgustingly outdated puffer jackets. The taller one sported purple and green. While the shorter preferred yellow. 

Your foot shifted before you felt yourself hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t. They’d probably be caught soon enough anyways. 

If anything, the supe covering your city would swoop in and haul their asses to the local jail. Especially when you called an ambulance for the man who was passed out on the ground. It would put this area on tonight's map. You sighed and finally allowed yourself to relax. 

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Shifting your eyes to the ground, you located the poor soul who suffered the attack. His breathing was ragged and wet. You were quick to put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. A wave of relief crashed through you when you felt a steady beating.

Pulling out your phone, you immediately dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, anonymously of course. You stayed with the man until you could hear loud sirens growing closer. Your sign to leave. 

Exiting the alleyway, you reached the small convenience store in record time. The adrenaline in your system was starting to make quick work of the alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You could feel your senses beginning to come back. Eyes clearer. Ears sharper. You could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone in the store. 

Groaning at your misfortune, you beelined for the alcohol section in the back. My god was it beautiful. Itching to return home, you grabbed a random bottle that had the highest percentage. Taste didn’t matter. Only the effect.

Glancing at your selection you choked on your own spit. 30 dollars?? The glass bottle was swiftly put back as you grabbed the cheapest one you could find. Tucking the Shitty K under your arm, you turned to walk to the register.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, OLD MAN.”

You froze. Extending your neck out, you caught a glimpse of the register. 

Purple, green, and yellow.

You had to be fucking kidding.

You watched as the two assailants from the alley held the elderly cashier at gunpoint. His form shook like a leaf. 

“Please! Just take the money and leave!”

You caught his eyes as he begged for his life. Tear filled and shaking. You could have prevented this. If you would have just stopped them when you had the chance none of this would have happened.

You could have saved the man in the alley. Saved the poor cashier.

You could have saved Uncle Ben too. 

Your eyes watered. Fucking pathetic mistake. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a grown adult who should have learned from your mistakes by now.

Shifting your eyes from the vodka to him, you pressed your lips in a thin line. You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you were repeating past mistakes or the fact that you wanted to take the more expensive alcohol and leave unnoticed.

When did you become this? 

No wonder you let Spider-Girl die.

You needed a drink. Desperately.

Abruptly, a whiplash of red and yellow snatched you from your daydream. The streaking shape blew over the newspaper stand before spinning around the starstruck perpetrators. You knew those McDonald's colors from anywhere. 

Kid Flash.

Like any speedster, he removed the gun in milliseconds before tying up the confused robbers. They stood no chance against the meta-human.

Dusting off his hands, Kid Flash smiled smugly at the dumbfounded duo, “Guns aren’t currency, you know?”

The man in yellow thrashed violently, “What the hell-Kid Flash!? Why are you in New York? Spidey taking a break or something?”

You cringed.

Kid Flash’s boyish voice laughed awkwardly, “Something like that.”

You need to get out of here. Now.

Slowly backing into the aisle, you clenched your teeth when your elbow hit the shelf. The bottles tinked in a symphony, altering everyone in the store of your presence. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Instantly, you snatched your coat hood and covered your face and hair. Staring into the grime covered tiles, you prayed Kid Flash wouldn’t think too much of it.

“Hello?”

Of course. The one time he’s actually thorough.

“Are you alright?”

Bright yellow boots came into your vision as you tried to conceal yourself further. You hunched into yourself with clenched fists. Mistaking your actions for something else, Kid Flash placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to be sacred!”

You bite into your lip eager to escape the conversation, “I’m not. Please let go.”

Kid Flash laughed, sounding a little too similar to Flash in your opinion. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he stood next to you with his hands on his hips. 

“Then why are you hiding?” A red glove entered your vision. It was headed straight for your hood.

You slapped his hand away, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.”

He shrugged, “That rule doesn’t really apply to superheroes.”

You couldn’t contain the breathy laugh that left your throat. You hate to admit it but you actually really missed the kid. 

However, you failed to realize your mistake. If anyone knew your laugh it was Kid Flash. You spent way too much time around him and Flash for him not too.

There was a long pause. 

“…Webs?”

You flinched hard, “Wrong person.” You internally cursed at yourself for the obvious slur in your voice.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

His hand grabbed your upper arm tightly, “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

You gently pulled against his hold, attempting to break free without force, “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Kid Flash raised his hand to his ear piece, “Just let me notify Flash-”

“NO!”

Your arm flew up to the communicator without thought. Taking advantage of his surprise, you were able to snatch the high tech earpiece from his loosen grip.

“Hey!” 

Kid Flash grabbed at you. His lanky limbs attempting to reclaim his lost device, “Let go!”

“You let go!” You shoved his face away with the palm of your hand. 

Kid Flash merely continued to grab at the air around you, “Never!”

If this was any other situation you would have laughed. The pair of you looked like children fighting over the last dessert.  

However, this wasn't just any situation. This situation involved Flash. 

“Listen to your elders you brat!” Finally, after a well fought struggle, you managed to hold the device out of arm's reach. A much needed success after the month you've had- 

“Webs?”

You halted in your tracks.

The small communicator in your hand blinked on and off, identifying an unstable signal. 

“Webs is that you?” Flash was urgent, “Wait there! I'm coming-”

You crushed the device in your hand. Terrified.

Small fragments engraved themselves into your skin, dotting your hand red. What have you done? 

“Batman’s gonna kill you for that, you know?” Kid Flash laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You frowned, uninterested in entertaining him. Kid Flash merely smiled awkwardly. It was evident the boy was taken aback by your unusually serious demeanor. 

The thought didn't take up much space in your mind. You could only think of one thing. When would Flash decide to appear out of thin air?

As if conjuring the hero, a red bolt flew through the mostly empty convenience store. The glass doors shook from the force. While newspapers scattered through the air, Vogue landed atop the cashier's head. 

Though he moved faster than the speed of light, he stood before you still. Unmoving. It was as if you might fade away if he got too close. 

“Webs,” His voice was laced with reverence. 

Your mouth went dry, “Flash.”

The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, suffocating you. Maybe this was how Flash planned to get back at you for ignoring him. Slowly killing you with hypoxia. A metaphorical death pertaining to how he felt during your absence. 

“Woah, this just got really awkward.” 

Kid Flash’s voice suddenly reminded you of his presence. He swayed uncomfortably. Trapped between you and Flash.

The younger male pointed his thumbs at the door, “Should I leave…or?”

“Yes.” 

Startled at your synchronous voices, Kid Flash quickly shuffled toward the door, “Alright. See you later?”

Flash nodded his head in response, ushering his protégé away. Kid Flash couldn't leave fast enough. Magazines, once again disturbed, twirled around the ground from where he left.

You stared at the loose paper. Preferring the sight of perfume ads then whatever expression Flash held. From the corner of your eye you should see him shift. He moved with unease. Your mouth curled slightly. He never was able to stop moving for long. 

“Webs, I-”

You cut him off, “I’m sorry.”

Flash furrowed his brows in confusion, “You don’t need to apologize. It's not your fault.”

“But it is,” You clenched your teeth in frustration, “It's always been my fault.”

The taller male crossed the space between you hesitantly. You flinched when he placed his large hands on your shoulders, completely engulfing them. 

“It wasn't your fault, Webs. Nobody could have known.”

“I could have saved her,” you finally met his gaze, “I was right there.”

You saw his eyes widen slightly, clearly used to your masked form more than your real face. 

Your name spilled from his lips. 

Not just Webs - your name.

You took a shaky breath, “Barry.”

The name was foreign on your tongue. You had tried to keep your personal life separate from hero work. Though that only lasted a year. Barry managed to weasel his way into your home life before you knew it.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Barry’s hands slid from your shoulders down to your hands, caressing them softly. “Believe me when I say this,” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been in your position before. We all have.”

Breaking eye contact, your stare bore into the wall of cheap booze, “I know.”

“And I know,” He cupped your cheek, “That drinking away your problems won’t help. It only makes it worse.”

You bit your lip, “I just want to forget.”

“I know. God, I know. I want to go back and change that day every time I open my eyes,” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, “But I've been down that road before. And it's not sustainable.”

Your eyes felt hot, your throat dry, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry pulled your smaller frame into his arms, “No one does.”

You sunk into his embrace, inhaling his scent.

“Let me take you home, Webs.”

“Okay.”

・❥・

You held tightly onto Barry, arms circling his neck, as he brought you home. You had barely enough time to blink before you were standing in front of your apartment’s door.

Barry hesitantly let you down from his hold. Though his arm stayed wrapped around your waist for support. You gave him a gentle smile as a thank you. 

Unlocking your door, you were immediately reminded of the state of your apartment. Dirty laundry and loose items scattered the floor. 

Shame crept up your neck. The uncaring attitude towards your humble abode seemingly disappeared.

Barry entered slowly, taking in the messy state. His eyes were quickly drawn to the empty bottles strewn about your floor. Unsurprisingly, he began to pick one up. Then another. And another. You snapped when he started to replace your trash bag.

“Barry.”

His head whipped toward you, only focusing on you.

“That's enough,” You tried grabbing the bag from him, “You don’t need to.”

Barry held onto the plastic tightly, “I want to.”

You shook your head, “It's my mess. Leave it.”

“No.”

You jolted in surprise at his commanding tone, “Why?”

He tossed the bag to the side, “Why?” 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head, “Why not? Why wouldn't I take care of you?”

You averted your gaze, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“But you do,” his voice was imbued with desperation, “If you didn’t, I wouldn't have spent a month doing everything in my power to find you!”

Your face felt hot, “I didn't ask you too!”

Barry closed in the space between you, “You didn't have too!”

You weren't sure when the tears began to pour down your cheeks, “I never wanted you too! I just want to be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I can't let you be!” Barry’s hand slammed down on your tiny island counter, “You're all I think about! From the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep, all I know is you. I would rather you hate me for the rest of my life just to see you for a moment than ever ignore you.”

You felt like a deer in headlights, “What?”

“That day when Spider-Girl died,” He gripped the counter, slightly cracking it under the force, “I felt like I lost a piece of you too. And I could bear it.”

You felt like you lost your breath when Barry met your gaze again. His eyes were laced with anguish. Bloodshot rims already forming.

“I know you're hurting. I know what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what you are going through,” He searched your eyes, “But I'm in love with you! And I have been for as long as I can remember.” 

The start of a cry made his voice waver, “And this is definitely poor timing for a confession, but I can’t lose you-”

You weren't exactly sure which one of your muscles was still intact enough for you to move. However, the feeling of plush lips against your own thwarted any other thought.

Barry stood rigid for a moment. Hands clenched at his sides. Then, he dominated the kiss like his life depended on it. His hands held onto your waist tightly, before slowly making their way to your face. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this happy.

Pulling away, you took shallow breaths, “I love you.”

Barry smiled and swiped a loose teardrop from your cheek, “I love you too.”

The warm moment didn't last long. Your mind was quick to remind you that there was a reason Barry had to confess in a messy studio apartment rather than someplace special. That reason was because you were broken.

You pressed you mouth into a thin line, “Do you still want me even if-”

“I want you no matter what,” Barry didn’t allow you to get another word in, “We can go through this together.”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “You're not alone, Webs. You never were.”

You swallowed hard, “Together?”

"Together."

・❥・

[starmocha]

in a gingerbread house built for two [Rafayel/Reader ★ 1921 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Home is with him. Day 01 — to: my true love (Sylus/Reader) Day 02 — do you want to build a snowman? (it doesn't have to be a snowman) (Zayne/Reader) A/N: Rafayel girlies, please accept my humble offering for this holiday season 🤲 Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

Slowly, just a little bit more, and…perfect!

You smiled in satisfaction as you finally managed to attach the final wall to your gingerbread house. All that was left to do was attach the roof and you could begin the fun part: decorating!

“Cutie, you have that same look on your face as when you’re grabbing plushies out of the claw machine.”

“How would you know? You never let me play…” You griped at Rafayel, taking a peek over to see his own progress with his gingerbread house. You nearly dropped the roof in shock when you saw that Rafayel had not only attached all of the parts to his house, but he had started making little decorations out of the candies and pretzel sticks on his kitchen counter. “A-are you making a ladder?”

“Well, of course,” Rafayel said as he broke a few pretzel sticks into smaller pieces. He dipped the end into some leftover white icing before using it to glue the smaller sticks to the longer one to form a ladder. “A ladder is necessary for when you need to decorate the exterior of your house for Christmas.”

“O-of course,” you said, staring at the little whimsical pretzel ladder Rafayel had just made with both admiration and envy for his creativity. You looked over to your bare house that was still missing its roof and inwardly sighed. You carefully piped some icing along the edge before you slowly lowered the roof onto the house, applying just enough pressure to secure the pieces without breaking them.

Hesitantly, you let go, relaxing as all parts of the gingerbread house seemed to be secured.

Time for the fun part.

You directed your attention to the counter where you had earlier laid out different edible items to be used for decorating the gingerbread house. There was an assortment of sprinkles in different small bowls. Some candies like peppermint, gumdrops, and little chocolate pieces awaited you. Bags of icing premixed in different colors were also ready to be used.

Late nights of staying up for hours watching gingerbread house decorating videos had given you the foresight to be as prepared as you could. You began piping along the edges, creating the image of snow on the house. As you were piping, you couldn’t help but peeked over at Rafayel’s house again, your heart dropping a little as his seemed to be on a whole different level than yours.

“H-have you ever decorated a gingerbread house before?”

“Hm?” He glanced over at you confused as he finished applying some thin chocolate wafers as shingles for the roof of his house. He shook his head. “I’ve never even held a piping bag before today.”

“R-really?” You looked at him skeptically, seeing how all of his icing was piped expertly, looking just like fresh soft snow gathered on the roof and window sills. Meanwhile yours looked a little wonky, as expected since you were trembling a little while you were piping the icing. You mumbled a little disheartened, “But they look so perfect. Must be an artist’s steady hand…”

He shrugged, amused and apparently not noticing your saddened tone. “You think so?” He glanced at his house with a small smile. He admitted softly, “I did watch a few shorts prior to this to get an idea.”

“Ah—me too!”

He laughed. “Guess Cutie and I are on the same wavelength,” he said. His eyes brightened as an idea seemed to pop into his head. “Oh, can you pass me the silver sprinkles?”

You handed him the small bowl with the glittery sprinkles, confused. “Oh—pretty…” You muttered in awe as you watched a shower of the sprinkles landing on Rafayel’s gingerbread house, making his snow looked extra sparkly just as you would see on a bright sunny day.

“What about your house?”

You were stirred out of your thoughts by Rafayel’s voice. You looked confused before he repeated his question, making you look down at your nearly bare house with despondency. “I…I don’t know what to do with it…”

He smiled gently. “That’s okay,” he reassured you, “Whatever you do with it, it will be beautiful.”

You snorted in disbelief. “Easy to say when you’re naturally artistic…”

“What was that?”

You gasped in shock when Rafayel came over and sat near you. He peered into your face with concern. “Are you alright? You seemed kind of sad right now…” He touched your chin gently, making you maintain eye contact with him. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Instantly, you felt guilty now when you noticed how worried he looked. Your shoulders slumped and you shook your head. “No, I’m sorry,” you apologized to his confusion. “It’s not you, it’s me…”

“What do you mean?”

“I was feeling a little envious and insecure…”

“Envious? About what?”

“I was just thinking how beautiful your gingerbread house looks while mine looks like a three-year-old had made it…”

Rafayel huffed in amusement. “What’s wrong with that?” he asked, “Three-year-olds are some of the most creative geniuses in the world.”

He hugged you from behind, his hands finding yours as he helped you picked up some colorful gumdrops. His face nuzzled against yours. “I think whatever you make will be more beautiful than mine. Don’t doubt yourself.”

“You’re just saying that…”

He shook his head and kissed your cheek. “I love everything that you do and make,” he said. “Why would I lie about this?”

You couldn’t help but smiled, feeling comforted by his sweet words. You noticed some dollops of icing that had landed on the counter, so you dragged your finger across some before turning to smear it on Rafayel’s cheek.

“Ah—an attack!” he declared, shocked. He sulked at you. “I can’t believe you would lure me into a trap like that. That is so sneaky of you…”

You giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek, licking the icing off. His face turned red, the color spreading fast to his ears.

“You—”

“It wasn’t a trap,” you protested before hugging him. “Thank you…”

Rafayel peered down at the top of your head, a resigned smile slipping on his face as he hugged you back. “Feel better now?”

You looked up, bright-eyed and smiley, nodding at him with enthusiasm. Rafayel answered with his own smile before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Then come on, let’s finish decorating before dinner.”

A comforting silence settled as the time passed with you both concentrating on your individual gingerbread house. You still stole glances at Rafayel, feeling admiration for his ability to manipulate any medium and turn them into beautiful works of art.

You looked back at your house, no longer feeling dejected. Steering away from the traditional red-and-green, you opted for a soft pastel of mint and pink, reminiscent of sweet, magical dreams of winter fairies and elves. You liked the simplicity of yours with the heart-shaped window in the center of the house made from two broken candy canes aligned together. You admired the pink and mint-colored gumdrop-shingled roof with white icicles that hung along the edge.

Along the house, you had meticulously placed different sized candies as decorations for the exterior. A few round peppermint candies here and there, and a line of candy-coated chocolate wrapped around the house. You had even found a snowman-shaped marshmallow to place in front of the house. You smiled with glee, pleased with the outcome.

“I’m done!” you declared, looking up to see Rafayel placing the final touch on his own house: a little green wreath made from icing and sprinkles for the front door.

“Me, too!” he answered with a grin. He turned to look at you, his smile widening. “Cutie, that is so adorable, just as I had expected.”

“It’s not as nice as yours,” you said with a soft smile. Rafayel immediately protested.

“What are you talking about? I never would have thought to use two candy canes to make a heart-shaped window like this,” he said, coming over to admire your gingerbread house even closer. “Ah, and making the whole house this pink and mint palette is so unique. It works really well.”

You felt your cheeks turning pink as Rafayel continued to lavish praises, showing no sign of stopping until he had complimented every single detail of your house. You playfully shoved him, laughing, “Okay, okay, I get it.”

You kissed his cheek, and this time it was his turn to blush. “Thank you,” you said, touched by his sincerity. “Let’s look at yours.”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, seemingly suddenly embarrassed. “Okay,” he answered, “But just let me say—”

“It’s adorable!” you exclaimed, interrupting him.

You stared in childlike wonder, admiring how Rafayel had made his gingerbread house into a little cottage in a snow-covered forest. All of the white icing he had piped to create snow and icicles were so expertly done, you had a hard time believing this was his first try. There were also the little details that made the scenery seemed more lifelike. From the broken chocolate crème-filled wafers that he had stacked to form “logs” for a fire, to the pretzel ladder that leaned against the house had you imagining different scenarios.

“Oh—what are those?” you pointed to the side, “They look like…us.”

Rafayel smiled sheepishly and picked up the two figurines. “I learned how to make marzipan recently,” he explained, “I thought I could maybe mold them like clay into people, so…it’s not bad for a first try, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” you stared at the figurines and then Rafayel, mouth agape, “These are so cute!”

Rafayel smiled, almost sighing in relief when he saw the joy on your face. He placed the figurines back down in front of the house, carefully and intentionally arranging them so they stood close to one another.

You noticed Rafayel’s soft expression, feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. You leaned down next to him as you both admired Rafayel’s gingerbread house together at a low-viewed angle. Your eyesight took in the sweet scenery that suddenly looked so big and lifelike.

“Why did you make us?”

“It’s not a home if there’s no one living there.”

“But why did you make me, too?”

“Because my home is also where you are.”

When you looked over in surprise, Rafayel had already leaned in, taking your lips for his. You let your eyes close, giving in to his sweet kisses. When you parted, Rafayel had pulled you closer, keeping you trapped against the counter. You felt the warm heat of him from behind and the way he lightly rested his chin on your shoulder, his face so close to yours.

“They look so happy,” you told him. “What do they do all day?”

“Wellllll,” he drawled, pondering, “They would take walks in the forest together.”

You hummed in agreement. “And then what?”

“When they would come home, mini-Rafayel would make a fire to keep mini-Cutie warm.”

You laughed at his description. “And mini-Cutie would make hot cocoa for mini-Rafayel and her to enjoy by the fire together.”

Rafayel nuzzled his cheek against yours. “Right, how did you know?”

“I know you.”

You turned and grabbed his face with both hands before you placed another kiss on his lips. You gasped gently against his mouth, your forehead resting against his, voice soft and breathless. “And then what happens…”

“And then…” Rafayel looked back at you, his eyes appearing more heated. He smiled. “They lived happily ever after together.”

[ferrarifinnick]

DISTRICT 13.

ᨒ › innocently thinking about finnick and gale’s ego-driven competition for your attention in district 13.

gale always saving you a space next to him in the cafeteria, flashing a rare smile that distracts you from the empty seat finnick also saved for you. finnick getting back at gale in the communal showers during bathing time, lathering up his flexed muscles before engaging you in conversation over the cubicle wall, just to show off. both of them sneaking into restricted areas to meet you at midnight, racing to be the first to find you.

trying not to think about gale pulling your hand down onto his lap to feel his hard on in the cafeteria. or finnick peeking over the shower cubicle at your naked body, only to piss gale off with a smug grin. definitely not thinking about them meeting with you in a supply closet to fill up both your holes for some late night relief.

like i said. innocent thoughts.

i could be convinced to make this a series 🫢🫢 like, comment, reblog. submit smutty requests. love <3

[stitch-away]

i miss my daddy :(

[twilightkitkat]

Bitches say they have a new ship but it's the exact same "gay depressed losers who are cosmically intertwined" dynamic in a different flavor.

[messrmoonyy]

Arthur photo dump cause he’s pretty. Round 2

[yumiyawning]

social butterfly!Reader x sensory overstimulated!Kageyama

cw: established relationship, post timeskip, female gendered reader, Tobio's slightly autistic, brief mention of alcohol??, kinda late to autism appreciation month sorry guys, Kageyama is in blue and reader in pink, hurt/comfort??

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama, who currently hates you. Well, not really, he couldn't possibly hate you, his beautiful, talented, gorgeous, terrifying wife. But God, does he hate your work responsibilities. Having to attend a work party on a winter-y Wednesday night?? What could possibly be the reason behind that evil scheme? But as your husband, it was his duty to come with you, acting as if you didn't bitch about your coworker Jessica and her, frankly, boring divorce as soon as you got home to him.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama whose ears itch as the loud music keeps getting louder and louder for absolutely no reason; how are you supposed to talk to people when all you hear is a fuckass remix of the "brat" album? So he just stands at your side, resting bitch face on, daydreaming about spiking a ball in your boss's face for even considering creating that event. Honestly, if it were up to him, he would have gone to bed an hour ago, if it hadn't been for your cute pout and begging.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama who leans down to murmur about getting another drink before walking off to the free bar. He almost knocks over a young, giggly, and drunk intern that incoherently babbles about...soaps? Tobio rolls his eyes, feeling his throat tighten up and walks off to wash off the nauseous feeling with a shot of whiskey.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama, who slowly starts to spiral, feeling overwhelmed by the noises, the smell, and the feeling of being surrounded by drunk individuals. His hands tremble, his breathing fastens, his chest tightens, his eyes wide and alert. He gets up abruptly and bolts outside wordlessly, seeking fresh air. When he does get outside, he crouches down, holding his face in his hands and trying to even his breathing.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama, who doesn't look up when you join him, with concern written all over your pretty face, too focused on working on his breathing exercises. 1,2,3..breath in..1,2,3..breath out. He really didn't mean to interrupt your evening with his social anxiety problems, and feels, oh, so guilty when you hold his hand to remind him of your persistent presence :( "Sorry pretty girl, didn't plan for my anxiety to kick in tonight." He breathes out harshly, to which you shake your head, "No baby, it's alright, I'm sorry I brought you here, I should have known it would be loud for you."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ overstimulated!Kageyama, who shakes his head and pulls you close to him, sitting on the sidewalk and sighing heavily, eyes fluttering shut; he really doesn't deserve you sometimes, and yes, sometimes he may be harsh but, you're his sweet angel, always staying by his side, even when no one else was, even at his lowest. And well, how could he be the King of the Court if he didn't have his Queen by his side?

彡AN: guys, yesterday I ate this earth-shattering matcha cake and I left a slice for today, BUT MY BIG BACK AHH BROTHER ATE IT. . Also, I barely slept, like I woke up at 3am and was thoroughly thinking about how I was gonna write this, so yeah if there are any misspellings, sue me... ts pmo icl bro 💔💔 anyway love ya'll MWAH <3

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @the0ishere, @nekomaniac, @wordsofelie (let me know if you wanna get tagged or not!! 😥)

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: "get you" by Daniel Caesar and Kali Uchis!!

[cozmowrites]

something unsaid

You sat on the front steps of the small house you and Izuku had once shared, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of your pants. The sun was setting in a wash of colors you barely noticed. You twirled your wedding band between your fingers, a habit you'd picked up in the months since he was gone.

The grief wasn't sharp anymore. It was dull, heavy, like trying to move through water. Some days it felt almost manageable. Other days, like today, it sat on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Oi."

The familiar voice broke the silence, and you looked up to see Katsuki standing there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was messy, more out of laziness than any sort of style, and his eyes... his eyes were the same. Sharp, but softer now. Softer when he looked at you.

"Hey," you whispered.

He didn't ask if you were okay. He never did. He knew the answer, or maybe because he understood you wouldn't know how to respond.

Katsuki sat down beside you, close but not touching. The distance was careful, intentional, a line you hadn't crossed yet.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked tired, like he carried a thousand unsaid things with him wherever he went. Maybe he did. You both did.

"House looks fine," he muttered, nodding toward the chipped paint and the overgrown lawn you hadn't had the heart to fix. Something Izuku would point out too.

You huffed a laugh, so soft it barely made it past your lips. "Fine's a generous word."

Katsuki shrugged, like he agreed but wasn't about to say it.

A long, heavy silence stretched between you. It wasn't uncomfortable. It never really was with him. Still, you could feel something different tonight. An invisible weight to the air.

You stared down at the ring in your hand. "I don't know how to... move forward," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "It feels wrong. Like I'd be betraying him."

Katsuki didn't answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked sidewalk.

"He wouldn't have wanted you to be alone," he said finally, voice low and rough.

"I know," you said. "But knowing and feeling are... different."

You twisted the ring between your fingers again, heart hammering against your ribs. You needed to say it. You needed him to know.

"Izuku knew," you said, swallowing thickly. "He knew... I loved someone else more. Even back then."

Katsuki turned his head slightly toward you, but he didn't interrupt. He knew what you were talking about. How you confessed to him all those years ago, but he shot you down so you sought after Izuku, his friend, to fill the void.

"I loved him," you said quickly, urgently, like you had to make him understand. "I did. I loved him so much. But... you..." Your throat tightened. "You were always... it."

Katsuki inhaled sharply through his nose. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs.

"He told me," Katsuki said after a beat. "Back when we were kids. Dumbass said... said he just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn't with him."

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the fading colors of the sky. "I hate that he knew. I hate that he was that good."

"He was too good for all of us," Katsuki muttered, his voice breaking a little at the edges.

You wiped at your eyes roughly. "I don't even know if I can love again."

Katsuki finally turned to face you fully, his red eyes burning with something raw and painful.

"You don't have to," he said. "Not if you're not ready. Not if you never are."

You stared at him, the ache in your chest shifting, not lessening, but changing into something different. Something warmer.

"I promised him," Katsuki said, voice quieter now. "I promised I'd take care of you. However you needed. Friend. Boyfriend. Husband. Just... someone to check in on you. I don't care. I just want you to be okay."

The first sob broke free from your chest before you could stop it. It wasn't loud, but it was broken, and Katsuki moved instinctively, closing the space between you.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could feel the tremble in his muscles. Like he was barely holding himself together too.

You buried your face in his chest, clinging to the front of his jacket like a lifeline.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The world moved on around you, the stars came out, the streetlights buzzed to life, but you stayed there, wrapped up in him.

When you finally pulled back, Katsuki let you go reluctantly, his hands lingering at your elbows like he wasn't sure if he should let you go completely.

You wiped at your face, laughing wetly. "Sorry. I’m a mess."

"You're allowed," he said simply.

You looked at him, really looked, and saw the man who had been there through every impossible moment. Every bad day. Every night you thought you'd break apart from missing Izuku so badly you couldn't breathe.

And somehow, Katsuki had stayed. Not out of obligation. Not out of pity.

Out of love.

"I don't know what I can give you," you whispered. "I'm... not whole anymore."

Katsuki shook his head, eyes fierce. "You don't have to be."

The tears came again, but they felt different this time. Less like mourning. More like release.

You reached out, hesitant, and Katsuki met you halfway, taking your hand in his much larger one.

It was clumsy, and painful, and beautiful all at once.

You weren't ready to fall in love again.

Instead, you were ready to let yourself heal.

Katsuki would be there, however you needed him.

Always.

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[walkingnearfoxes]

The Space Between the Lines (Homelander x Reader) - Chapter 3

1.7k words. 18+. Warnings for stalking and the Homelander being horny. She/Her Teacher Reader. 

There are a dozen teachers who would kill for this job. You’re just not sure that you’re one of them.

The Homelander had been watching you for weeks.

He didn't have much of a choice. He clearly couldn't trust Ashley and her merry band of mediocrity to pick an educator for Ryan. These "teachers" brought to him were either idiots, ugly as goddamn sin, or too busy shitting their pants at the sight of him to educate his son. One bald and sweaty winner was all three; he took care of that one. That dumbass wouldn't be teaching anyone any time soon.

Clearly, to ensure the best possible future for his son, the Homelander needed to step in. He looked at the curriculum. He re-mapped the lessons with wide-eyed instructional designers. He looked at the resumes. He burned the resumes. He asked Ashley whether she was picking these fuckers out of the sewers or the prisons.

And then, to her luck, she found you.

At first, he wasn't very impressed. You were young, first of all. Educated, sure. Cute, even. But young. Weren’t the best teachers supposed to be ancient? Set in their ways?

"She won an award for education, sir," Ashley had offered at his evident ambivalence. Your file was displayed across the screens of the conference room. The Homelander sat back in his usual chair, gloved fingers drumming at the arms.

He rolled his eyes. "Did she win by having a fucking pulse? Honestly, Ashley, after the zombies you sent me-"

But then she clicked on the video that came with your award profile. It showed a clip of one of your lessons - an introduction to the War of 1812 with a rambunctious group of middle schoolers. He would have fried them immediately, but you were the image of calm. 

It was the way you held yourself that caught his attention. You had energy, but you were always in control. You answered each question the little shits had for you concisely and even joked with one or two of them. When a student reached for the cell phone bulging in their jean pocket, your glare across the room was enough to stop them and give you a mumbled apology.

You cared. You cared deeply.

He stared at the screen for another minute, his gaze following you across the screen. Finally, he nodded. "Bring her in."

Ashley looked like she might just come from relief. "Absolutely, sir," She breathed and turned to the computer for all of two seconds before her dirt brain got distracted. "I-I should mention, she doesn't have a background in math or science-"

"Oh, boo hoo." The Homelander drawled as he stood. "Now we won't know how a plant fucks itself. Half that shit isn't real, Ashley. Just bring her in."

He didn't take part in the interviews. He had actual work to do and lives to save. The notes that Ashley gave him were all things he already knew. You were quick, intelligent, and wanted to make a difference. No shit. He didn't need an hour-long conversation to know that. He knew that keeping an eye on you was much better than any performance task. He did the actual work.

It was comical to him how little people paid attention. He was invisible to all the ants if he didn't want to be spotted. He easily flew from building to building, neighborhood to neighborhood, all to learn more about cute, unsuspecting little you. You weren’t hard to find; Vought had all of your information before you even applied.

His findings were boring as fuck at first. You had a small group of friends, you read all the fucking time, but you kept yourself in shape. He appreciated the last part, at least. But you weren’t as refreshing as he thought you would be from the teaching video. The only thing that slightly caught his curiosity was the mysterious relationship to your family. Your mother called about twice a week - sometimes more. From his x-ray vision and superior hearing through the ancient walls of your apartment, he learned enough to know your family didn't live far away, but you made no effort to visit them. Every time your mother called, he saw your lips thin and your eyes narrow. You usually were doing something else while speaking to her - browsing the Internet, pacing the living room, even punching a pillow. Why, he wondered? Maybe mommy and daddy were neglectful of you. A favored sibling, maybe? Drugs? There are limitless possibilities, but you never spoke about it to anyone. Was it a minor issue then, or were you so selfless that you didn't want to bother anyone with your problems? His mind drifted to the matter more than once. He didn’t quite comprehend what would make someone distance themselves from their blood when it was so close at hand.

Then, there was the run.

You very stupidly liked to go for runs at night. Alone. With headphones on. It was like you were asking to be gutted. Sure enough, only about two weeks into his watch, a mindless oaf of a man found you at a stoplight. From his standing perch on a nearby rooftop, his body cloaked in shadow, the Homelander rolled his eyes. 

Was he going to have to save you already? Christ.

But then, he noticed your movements. The man was to your back, but you had already turned off your music and lowered your headphones. You already knew he was there. 

"You lost, baby girl?" The man murmured, stopping a mere five inches from your back. "I can bring ya home and warm ya up..."

You turned to look at him, and the smile on your face - a grin full of teeth - wasn't polite. It was a warning. "I'm just fine, buddy. Now walk away."

The man bristled - he had a good foot of height on you and about three times the fucking body mass - but then your smile disappeared. The Homelander saw the way your eyes changed. There was something darker. Something he was intimately familiar with.

The man swallowed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shuffled backward. "Right. Sorry. Ma'am."

You watched him for a long moment, ensuring he truthfully intended to leave you alone. Once you were sure, the Homelander watched as you put your headphones back in and carried on as if nothing had happened.

Oh.

Oh.

You weren't just a cute little teacher. There was something else.

His lips twitched upwards in approval. There was another twitch down south, but that wasn't too surprising. He’d always admired strong women. He could take care of that later; the few “accidental” peaks of you in your shower had given him plenty of material.

So, he told Ashley to hire you and continued to keep an eye on you. It wasn't out of surveillance now; it was out of curiosity. He didn't see another glimpse of that side of you again, but that would come with time. You weren't perfect. Your clothes were boring, you couldn't nail down a signature scent, and he loathed your roommate.

But that look. He could do something with that look.

And so he sat and watched as you taught his son. He had to admit that you were good. Ryan was paying attention, and he was smiling. He was smiling a little too much - he certainly never smiled that much with him - but what was important was that he was learning. What was also important was that you were slowly becoming more at ease. You had stopped your adorably nervous glances at him about 20 minutes ago, and adrenaline had stopped obnoxiously pumping through your body. He could barely detect the scent anymore. 

You were explaining how the colonists had grown independent from Britain when Ryan's brows began furrowing.

You, the diligent educator that you are, notice right away. "What's up?"

"I'm...a little confused," Ryan admits.

You smile encouragingly. "Well, share with the class. It's my job to help with that."

Ryan points to his textbook. The Homelander can see from across the table that he's touching an image of a plantation. "You said George Washington had slaves?"

You hesitate, and your eyes move to glance at the Homelander. He says nothing, the same polite smile on his face. You look back to Ryan. "That's right."

Ryan's frown deepens. "He wanted the colonies to be free but he had slaves?"

Uh oh.

The Homelander laughs, and it's the first sound he's made this entire lesson. Ryan meets his eyes immediately, and you barely mask a flinch. "Whoa there, buddy," He says, standing up from his place at the table. "It's a little more complicated than that."

There's barely a beat after his words before you reply. "Yeah, their whole idea of freedom is a bit...convoluted."

The Homelander blinks and raises a brow. "What do you mean, teach?"

Your smile is polite, but your eyes are a bit less so. "I mean that Ryan is making a good point. It's a bit hypocritical."

He scoffs and steps forward, his hands moving to his hips. "Are you calling our founding father a hypocrite?"

There it is. There's that look in your eye. Without missing a beat, you nod your head. "Yes."

He hadn’t expected to see it again so soon - certainly not directed at him. But there it is.

There is a long silence interrupted only by Ryan's fingers anxiously tapping against the table. It's death to the Homelander's eardrums, but he doesn't care. He's staring at you, waiting for you to flinch or murmur an apology like all those other mudpeople did. You don't.

"Well, on that exciting note, I think we can call it for today," He announces, turning to give his son a warm smile. "Ryan, you earned yourself some Tournament of Heroes time."

Ryan turns to look at you - a decision that makes the Homelander's fists clench on his hips - and you smile back at the boy. "Same time tomorrow?"

Ryan smiles shyly back. "Yeah. Definitely." He stands up slowly, closes his notebook, and looks at his father. "Do you wanna come play, Dad?"

The Homelander grins. "Sure thing. You set up the VS5 and I'll be there in a jiff," But he looks back at you with a wink. "I just gotta have a word with Miss Benedict Arnold here before she rushes out on me."

The way your pulse skyrockets makes his heart sing.

[lostintransist]

It Had Been Love

Companion story to It Was Almost Love | AO3 for It Was Almost | AO3 for It Had Been

@frostynight0265 I hope I did this story justice for you. CW: Reader is dead, Simon dies off screen, John Price grieves. I make it somewhat better by the end.

Price knew Simon had passed the same way he knew you had disappeared from this plane; the weight of an unseen hand on his shoulder.

Trapped behind his desk, he hadn’t noted the date. Buried alive in bureaucracy, calling his former lieutenant hadn’t crossed his mind. He should have. Maybe Simon would have outlived midnight of your death anniversary. Too late. How many times had he been too late to save a soldier?

The cloak of distance always came with the hand of fate on his shoulder. The shift in the air, the tightness that encased his chest, they told him someone had gone.

A date seared into his neurons blinked at him from the watch face that remained set to London time. Tucking his face into his hands, John wept.

When his tears had dried, the salt leaving tracks on his cheeks, John called for a welfare check on a veteran under the name of Simon Johnson.

Simon didn’t want to keep his father’s name when he retired. Man had looked at John from the weakly inclined position in a hospital bed back on home soil and told him.

“Call me Simon Johnson. You were a better father than my old man ever attempted to be.”

John had pulled him into a hug then; touched beyond reason and treasured the gift.

Simon woke to a warm, wet, long tongue slathering him in kisses. Bringing both hands up to block more unwanted attention, he brushed fur.

Fur?

The only creature that loved him like this with fur had been Riley.

Snapping his eyes open, he found Riley.

That dog had died, retired, fat, and happy years ago.

The people who took Riley in had sent him a paw and nose print as well as a few photos and some ashes after the good boy had passed.

Riley settled, pressed against his ribs, nose following the junction of Simon’s shoulder.

Memories returned slowly. Losing his leg, losing the only thing that gave his life meaning, missing you. He finally remembered the last few moments and he sighed.

His chest didn’t ache anymore. His back didn’t scream at him for laying flat, nor did his ankle ache. The leg the bomb had taken from him had been the same as yours. He thought of it as fate.

Craning his head up, he found two legs, knees, ankles, and feet. His brows tucked close together.

Glancing at Riley he commented aloud.

“Well, that is a bit unexpected.”

Riley licked him again.

“They spoiled you bad at your hospice home, huh?”

Simon sat up. Wiping the slobber from his face with one hand, he settled the other in Riley’s scruff. He wore a comfortable henley, black of course, a pair of dark wash jeans, and his favorite pair of boots that had fallen apart nearly fifteen years back. The local cobbler had been shocked to hear how long they had served. No mask covered his face. He found all his scars in place as he ran his searching fingers over his skin.

“Well Riley, where the hell are we?”

The old man of a dog moved like he was two again, bounding up to his paws. Riley nosed at Simon’s arm, encouraging his friend. Sitting up, he took in the one-room cottage. A small table and a cheery blaze spoke to a kitchen to his left. To his right, he found a large bed. The covers were turned down like someone had expected him. The wall next to the bed had been shaped out to be a bookshelf. They overflowed with familiar-looking spines. A rocking chair sat next to the shelves, inviting him in. At the end of the bed, a deep chest blocked any cool air that would have flowed from the door. Simon assumed this door led to outside.

Standing from the worn stone floor was easier than Simon had ever experienced. Even childhood had been riddled with aches and pains from the hurting hands of his father. Stretching experimentally, his hands brushed the beams.

“I wonder if these could hold me,” he muttered as his hands settled to either side of the thick wood.

Lifting himself until his shoulder prevented any more height, the wood remained silent. Dropping to the floor Simon noticed that his knees didn’t creak with the motion.

“Huh. Death is a lot more well-built than I expected.”

Riley barked and spun in a circle once.

“Alright boy, you’ve been here longer. Let’s go and explore.” Simon smiled at his dog. He couldn’t find a word that held the strength of his feelings for this reunion.

The exterior of the storybook cottage exceeded his expectations. Riley took off at a full sprint. A clearing ringed in flowers and towering trees welcomed him to walk wherever he may wander. Riley circled the house three times before coming to trot at Simon’s side as they explored each bit of the unexpected treasure. Simon found a small garden, unfamiliar plants pushing their heads through the soil.

Time moved like it had before death, but more kindly. The weather shifted with the sun but earth-shaking storms or scorching heatwaves never appeared. When Simon longed for a day to sit by the fire and listen to the rain patter against the thatched roof, the afterlife obliged.

A full set of seasons spiraled before something changed. With each new season, he would open the cabinet where his clothes lived and find appropriate options for the weather. When the snow got parted around his thighs it even provided coats for Riley.

Each morning Simon rose he stretched a bit taller and breathed a bit deeper. Tending to the garden he ate from for pleasure and not for sustenance became one of his favorite ways to pass the time. Walking with Riley in the woods surrounding the small clearing he saw birds and bucks and all manner of animals trailing through the underbrush.

He could feel himself healing.

When winter arrived that first time he did not need to pace the small space like a caged animal. Contentment had never been something he achieved in life.

Spring rose with the pushing up of snowdrops. As the snow melted away a path revealed itself. Clear cut from the trees and bushes the trodden path beckoned him forward, into parts unknown.

He ignored it for a season.

The urge to wander grew, the soles of his feet treading closer each time he explored the woods.

Simon would have ignored the pull indefinitely. Riley had other plans.

The normally well-trained dog alerted at the edge of the path. Body rigid, fur quivering, and attention riveted to Simon. Once he noticed that his dog needed attention, Simon watched in horrified confusion as Riley took off.

Chasing a dog is never fun.

Running after a military-trained bomb dog while fighting back the overwhelming need to vomit due to spiking anxieties? Particularly worse.

They ran for several minutes. Simon never fully lost sight of Riley until a sharp curve to the left.

A shout and laughter had him laying on even more speed.

Skidding to a stop Simon saw an impossible sight.

You, who he had learned to love in your absence, pinned under his dog. You ran your hands all over Riley with cooing words of him being such a good dog, and what a big boy. Riley soaked it up as if Simon did not love on him daily.

A short whistle from Simon had Riley jumping up and settling at his heel.

The words tangled on his tongue. God, the things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to yell and weep and tackle you down like Riley had.

“Long time no see. How you doing, Simon?” You sat up, eyes finding his even in the distance.

“Well…I’m dead,” he lifted and dropped one shoulder.

Your laugh damn near sparkled. Standing, you brushed off any dirt clinging to the seat of your pants.

“Happens to the worst of us.”

Simon laughed. Fully belly laughs that launched sound far and wide. The grin that split your face was worth dying to see.

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