#have been emotional dead for a while so clogging the tags I guess?

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shotgun Wedding

MASTERLIST

Angel Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: angsty angst, language, s3 spoilers, (gif not mine!)

Marisol Reyes’s diamond sparkled underneath the grim lighting of the Mayans clubhouse. The diamond she always imagined resting on her ring finger. Y/N stared blankly at the beaming woman glued next to Angel. Y/N tried her damndest to conceal her heartache keeping a calm demeanor. As if cemented in the very place she stood, Y/N didn’t dare move a muscle at the abrupt announcement. 

Her ears rung horrendously blocking out the unwelcomed laughter and cheers. Her blood simmered rising in temperature every passing second, but Y/N swore her heart stopped beating the moment Angel wouldn’t…couldn’t look at her. Tranq’s eyes searched the room finding Y/N all too easily, a familiar sadness rested behind her eyes showcasing her inner misery.

Nails’s smile continued to irk Y/N as her fingers wrapped around an empty beer glass.

Angel’s voice boomed through the room next; “That ain’t it..we’re havin a baby!”

Hoots and hollers broke out across the room celebrating the surprising news.

Y/N froze too stunned to glance up from the wood counter she was currently staring holes in. Ezekiel’s eyes followed suit; pity filled and genuine disbelief. Didn’t seem like big bro told him either. Suddenly glass shattered forcing Y/N’s gaze downwards, blood danced down her palm moving delicately towards her wrist. Two shards embedded deeply into her hand as her eyes bulged at the growing mess.

Tranq moved quick grabbing a towel. He hesitated sizing up the shards and their removal. His lips moved but Y/N didn’t hear a thing. A minor pinch resonated from her palm glancing down at the removed bloodstained pieces. Angel chanced a glimpse towards Y/N knowing the damage had been long done.

“Y/N?”  

She merely nodded applying more pressure to the cut.

Her voice dead-panned void of any emotion; “Shit, I spaced. Sorry bout the glass.”

His brow scrunched upwards at the overtly monotonous tone. Meanwhile, Y/N busied herself wiping up the crimson liquid. Not more than five seconds later her back was to him as she rushed to the back room. Tranq tailed her closing the door behind him. Her chest heaved unable to catch her breath as she paced in circles.

“Say somethin, anything…”

Y/N stopped, her eyes pierced his gentle ones; “Did you know?”

Without hesitation, Tranq answered; “No idea.”

He sounded just as hurt as she did causing concern to spread throughout her shivering frame; “I thought you and Nails were—”

“Me too. Guess not.”

Unshed tears begged for release but Y/N fought harder. Her voice sounded broken, laced in pain; “I hate him.”

Tranq rubbed her shoulder soothingly; “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Her shoulders deflated; “It’s not your fault. It’s fucking mine for giving him another god damn chance.”

“Stop. They made their choice. Does it fucking suck? Hell yeah, but it’s outta our hands for good. Don’t let that shit spread.”

“Your optimism is annoying as hell.”

His hand grazed over her chin keeping her attention; ““He doesn’t deserve you; he never fucking did.”

“And she’s a total bitch for blowing you off and running back to him the second he turns her damn direction.”

“I don’t want to hurt like this anymore, T. Angel will never choose me and that’s a hard pill to swallow. But seriously? Seriously? He fucking parades her around, proposes to her, and then knocks her up?! What fresh hell did I walk into tonight?”

“You and me both.”

Her fingers carefully grazed along the liquor bottles aligning the farthest wall; “I think I’m going to miss you the most.”

Confusion clouded his thoughts; “You—you’re leaving?”

“I have to. I can’t just stay here and watch him play house. Angel’s left me no other choice.”

Tranq closed the gap between them bringing her into his chest. Her arms wrapped around him trying to memorize every possible detail.

“I still have a phone, ya know. I’ll keep you in the loop, promise.”

“You are worth finding. Worth knowing. And undoubtedly worth loving. Don’t let him take that away.”

“You, my friend, have a way with words. This isn’t goodbye.”

“Just a see you later?”

The hallway light shone brightly as the door swung ajar. Picking up one foot in front of the other, Y/N stride didn’t falter instead focusing her energy straight ahead on the exit until an unwelcoming voice echoed out for her.

“Y/N, wait up!”

She began a light jog attempting to make a clean getaway. Heavy footsteps clogged about alerting her of another presence. Y/N fumbled for her keys but not before Angel Reyes caught up.

“There’s nothing left to say, Reyes. Your announcement made that crystal clear. Now go the fuck away.”

“At least gimme a minute to explain.”

“Explain what? How you told me you loved me TWO DAYS AGO and then proceeded to propose to your fuck buddy? Oh, congrats on the baby by the way. I hope you both burn in hell.”

Angel held her arm keeping her in place; Y/N fought against his grasp; “You’re a selfish, irredeemable shell of a bastard.”

“I know.”

“I love you, all of you so damn much. But I’m sick and tired of the bullshit. You’ve obviously made your decision, Gel. I gotta get out of here for a while.”

Guilt ran down his spine seeping into his stiff bones. Angel opened his mouth but no words followed. Not once in the last twelve hours had he stopped running at full speed. Now with the dust finally settling, Angel’s actions finally caught up with him.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

Her jaw nearly hit the ground at the audacity of this asshole; “I bet your fiancé is looking for you. Should probably head back.”

The words held a finality Angel wasn’t sure he was ready to embrace. His mind screamed at him to be honest, to tell Y/N she was the reason he got outta bed every day. But then Nails told him she was pregnant and the rest of the world became a blur. Angel never actually expected to lose Y/N. Now his reality had shifted, altered on its very axis and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. The car door creaked open and shut in record time. Blurred headlights were all that remained as the distance grew further and further between them. Crickets chirped far too loudly as the silence set in. It was time for Angel to let Y/N go even if his heart resisted.

 ~~~~~~~

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[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 8

A/N: Hello again! This chapter is a little shorter than the last couple of chapters but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter, it means a lot. Also, I’m making a seperate tag list for people who would like to be tagged in all of my supernatural stuff (one shots, dabbles, other series etc.), so let me know if you want to get on that. Also, Also - if any of you have any requests for one-shots or the like, I’d love to do that. Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

To Dean it felt like it took forever.

He watched Cas’s hand glow as if he were healing her, not even daring to breathe. Sam stood beside his brother in support. Cas had his eyes closed in concentration. Dean was looking worriedly at Y/N but she didn’t look like she was in any pain. He trusted Cas with his life and knew he would never knowingly hurt Y/N, but worrying came naturally to him and he had to make sure she was safe. There was an instinct there that he was usually used to associating with just his brother.  

Cas had only wanted to see her soul but as soon as he put his hand on her, he was bombarded with her memories. Her thoughts, her pain, her experiences – they were so loud. He had never felt so crippled by a human mind before. He was surprised by the intense anger he felt on her behalf. The girl didn’t seem to harbour much anger herself – there simply wasn’t any place for it beneath the fear, uncertainty, loneliness and hurt. He saw her memories like he had once seen Dean’s when he pulled him out from hell. Once he was sucked in, he couldn’t get out until she let him even though he felt like he was somehow violating her privacy. But, if he ever had any doubt that there was a part of Dean Winchester in this girl, the burning determination underneath everything else would have been enough to remove it. Even without seeing her soul, shining as brightly as her father’s.

Y/N was expecting pain even after Cas assured her that there wouldn’t be any. What she was not expecting was the warmth. It felt like she was bundled in the softest blanket and nothing could hurt her as long as she stayed in the cocoon of that warmth. It was bright light and hope and love and like nothing she had ever felt before. She almost didn’t want to let it go but she could feel the sensation trying to pull away from her. She chased it until she couldn’t. She didn’t know how long had passed before she came back to Earth, so to speak.

Cas’s hand slid from her forehead down to her cheek momentarily.

“I’m sorry for the hard life you’ve had Y/N. You are truly an incredible human being and I vow to protect you to the best of my ability from here on. I shall not let any harm befall you.”

The intensity of his words surprised her but she didn’t say anything. Dean, on the other hand, balked at the words.

“Wait, what just happened?” he asked, looking from Cas to Y/N and back again.

“What’s with the vow of protection? Is this some kind of Twilight imprinting bullshit?!” Dean’s voice grew more hysterical with every word, making Y/N muffle a snort.

“Dude, why the hell do you even know what that is?” Sam asked incredulously. Dean ignored him in favour of glaring at his friend.

Cas turned away from Y/N to give Dean his best imitation of Sam’s bitchface.

“No, Dean. I didn’t imprint on your daughter. I can assure you I have no intention of mating with her,” Cas sarcastically dead-panned, which would have normally impressed and even amused Dean but his brain had stopped working at that moment.

Daughter. Daughter.

Fuck.

There was a ringing in his ears. He could hear Sam calling his name, could feel the weight of his hand shaking his shoulder, but everything was muffled – the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he had a fucking daughter.

Of course, he had known it was a possibility – that was the whole damn point of the angelic test, but now… it was real. He was a father. Just like that. In that moment – he fucking hated Sandra.

Sam would have loved to say that Dean reacted maturely and focused on Y/N and didn’t freak out at all, but father or not, he was still Dean Winchester. So, Sam wasn’t all that surprised when instead of making sure his daughter was alright, Dean stormed out in the direction of the shooting range, or so Sam assumed. He knew his brother and he knew that it was how he processed things. Working on his car or shooting stuff was Dean’s way of dealing with the news and Sam was just grateful that he didn’t choose to turn to the bottle instead.

He watched Dean walk off but instead of trying to reason with his brother, he turned towards the other person affected by the news. His niece (Holy shit, he had a niece) was frozen in place, her eyes not really focused on anything. Cas looked at him worriedly and Sam realised that Cas hadn’t meant to drop the news in such a way. He smiled at him reassuringly, and walked to where Y/N was still standing.

Instead of calling out to her, he gently guided her to the library and made her sit down on a chair. She didn’t react at her which didn’t necessarily surprise Sam but worried him nonetheless. Cas brought a glass of water from the kitchen and Sam quickly thanked him before setting it down on the table and kneeling in front of Y/N.

“Kiddo? Hey Y/N, are you alright?” he instinctively asked and winced. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Her entire world had just turned on its head.

“Y/N, you with me?” he tried instead.

She looked at him without really seeing him. He had to repeat the question a couple of times before he even saw a hint of acknowledgement in her eyes. He waited patiently until she finally shakily nodded her head.

Her throat was dry. She reached for the glass of water blindly. Sam quickly picked it up and placed it in her waiting hands, watching as she took small sips.

“Where’s…” she trailed off, sipping at the water again just to have something to do.

“Probably in the shooting range. He’s… processing. But I guess so are you,” he said uncertainly.

“You have a shooting range?” She was clearly avoiding the big elephant in the room, but Sam didn’t take the bait.

“I’ll show you later,” he dismissed the topic change expertly. “How are you holding up?”

“You mean after learning that my mother lied to me my entire life?” she spat out. Sam winced at the tone but ignored the hostility, only squeezing her shoulder in response. She deflated at the lack of a fight. He simply waited.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I wasn’t expecting… I know you were all but convinced but I wasn’t. San- my mother always gave me the impression that my father was dead. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even have distant relatives that I could call family. Now suddenly, I… I don’t know how to deal with that,” she said, frustration heavily lacing her voice.

Sam noticed the hesitation at her mother’s name and stored that little piece of information for later. His heart went out to her, it truly did.

“Look, I can’t even begin to imagine being in your position right now. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Hell, I’m still reeling from the fact that I have a niece, and I’m not even the one directly affected by this! So, I cant tell you how to feel or what to do. That’s up to you. What I can tell you is that you’re family now, Y/N. That word has way more weightage in this household than it probably does anywhere else. So, whatever you’re going through, you won’t be alone. I’m here, Cas is here and when he eventually gets over his little temper tantrum, Dean will be here too,” Sam smiled wryly.

Y/N chuckled a little even as emotion clogged her throat, shaking her head at Sam’s attempt at levity. She was suddenly pulled into the tightest hug by Sam, but this time she refused to cry. She’d had way too many breakdowns in the past few days and she’d ignore the stinging in her eyes and the burn in her throat if it was the last thing she did.

Instead, she sniffled into Sam’s plaid shirt, realising this was the second time in as many days that she was in this position. She chuckled at that, and instead of pulling away burrowed herself deeper into the comfort of the embrace.

Sam squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. This was his niece. He was a fucking uncle! What did uncles even do? She was probably too old for toys. He also didn’t see much pranks in their future, at least for a little while. He could teach her he supposed. She clearly needed education and didn’t seem particularly thrilled about any form of formal institution. Yes, he would be the brainy uncle, who answered all the questions. He could do that.

Eventually, she pulled away. Seeing the hopeful expression on Sam’s face, she managed a weak smile at him, trying to tell him that she would be alright.

“I think I’m going to get some sleep and… process all of this. Let me know if De-Dean comes back soon,” she stumbled a little, not entirely sure what to call Dean anymore. Was ‘Dean’ inappropriate? It was way too soon for anything remotely in the ‘Dad’ ballpark. She put it away as a problem for later, not wanting to deal with the headache that accompanied thinking about her new family.

“Yea- yeah! No issues, kid. Get some rest. Dean will probably be a couple of hours. Cas already went to him earlier. He’s good at making Dean sort through things. I’ll probably head over there myself in a few,” he said assuredly.

“What’s up with that anyway?” she asked, her earlier curiosity making it harder for her to keep her mouth shut.

“What’s up with what?” Sam sounded confused.

“Cas and Dean?”

Understanding dawned on Sam’s face, immediately replaced with a look of long-suffering exasperation. Y/N giggled at that, making Sam smile subconsciously at the sound.

“If you ever figure it out, let me know,” he sighed and with a last kiss to her head, walked away.

Y/N shook her head and walked up to her room. She once again took stock of all the things that supposedly belonged to her. The mattress was the softest she’d ever slept on. She had her own freaking room. She had food to eat and clothes to wear and a couple of guys who cared more for her than what she thought she was worth.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

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[sarcastically-defensive17]

Comfort - S. Reid

TW: death of loved one and grieving.

Spoilers: if you have not seen from season 6 onwards then please do not read as this contains spoilers for season 6 and season 10 at least!

Reid has a distinct knock. It was soft, but urgent. A large difference to the loud rasps he adopts at work. He would often come by after he finished a case. Or if he wants to have dinner, or simply spend some time together. But he hardly graced her door at such an odd hour.

When she heard the knocks, she rose from her chair. She had as bad a sleeping pattern as he did, except she spent her nights with her glasses on her nose and hair tied in a bun, painting various scenes that worked their way across her mind. The sound cut through the noise of her speaker, and she halted the dulcet sounds of Sinatra with a worried frown on her face.

Maybe he had a bad case, she thought. It was rare but common for him to come to her seeking comfort, or a distraction from whatever was playing on his mind. After all, that’s what (maybe) girlfriends did.

She pulled the wooden door open, meeting the eyes of the genius. His whiskey coloured eyes stood out from his unusually pale skin, red streaks piercing the sclera. His cheeks were blotchy, contrasting harshly against the purple scarf thrown over his collarbones. He was disheveled. Unusual for the doctor.

She offered a small smile, stepping aside to let him enter; a silent permission.

His heavy feet carried himself to the lounge, and he sat as best he could with his slumped and ragged posture. He opened his mouth to talk, but no words came out.

A strangled sound, a mix between a sob and a sigh tore from his throat, and Y/N launched herself onto the seat beside him. Tears streamed down his face, and she swung her arms around his neck. His face buried into her shoulder, but she didn’t need to see him to know how much he was hurting. The way he grabbed at her shirt so tightly, as if he were afraid of her leaving him.

“Spence, honey, what happened?” She whispered softly, petting his hair as he struggled to regain his breath. He was silent for a minute, composing his voice and hoping to let the words out in complete.

“I, um, one of my friends passed away. I hadn’t spoken to him in a while and now-“ he choked on another sob, refusing to lift his head “- now he’s gone.”

Y/N tightened her arms around him, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She felt him sigh against her, sniffling heavily. She could feel that her shirt was damp, but she had not a single care.

He had lost friends before. He was at her house every night for three weeks after the loss of his friend Emily, and another three when he found out that she faked her death. Y/N had been there to hold him through it all - back when they were just friends.

Now, she felt a deeper connection to the genius, with no idea if he felt the same. And it broke her heart to see him so shattered.

“Do you want to talk about him? I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready, Spence.” She has allowed him to raise his head, retracting her hand from his hair. Even with tears streaming and snot clogging his nostrils from the aggressive sobs, he still looked magnificent in her eyes. A picture she would love to paint.

“I hadn’t heard from him in so long. He was off, enjoying his retirement. He lost his girlfriend and sort of just took off to figure himself out.” A shaky breath, eyes fixed on his long fingers. “I know I didn’t keep in contact with him, but I guess... I guess I always knew he was out there. If I needed him, I could try and turn to him.” A sniffle, a small smile as Y/N rubber her hand along his back softly. He had risen into a seated position next to her, now. “Now... there’s nothing. I’ll never see him alive again.”

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of his face, brushing his long hair away from his eyes. The tear stains matting his hair to his face. “There is never nothing, Spence. He may be gone but your memories of him are not.”

“He was my mentor,” Spencer snuffed again. “He was the one who helped me get used to the Unit. He helped me find my way into the group when he knew I was scared. He was the father I never had and I saw him. He was murdered and I saw his dead body.”

“Oh, baby...” she whispered, resting her forehead on his. His sobs had halted but she could feel the tears running down his cheeks. She had never seen him so broken, and she never wanted to see him so hurt again.

Within seconds Spencer pulled away, wiping at his eyes furiously and standing to his feet.

He was grabbing his bag from the other side of the lounge and pushing his hair away from his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have come here,” he was already walking towards the door when she stood to her feet.

Her lips set in a frown and she reached to grab his hand, “what do you mean? You’re always welcome here Spencer, no matter what.”

He simply shook his head, and she could see more tears fall from behind the curtain that his hair creates. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. You should be enjoying your night, not dealing with me. Maybe if I had have just kept in contact with him I could have prevented this-“

She placed her hands on his neck, turning his face up and towards her. He towered over her, but he still kept his gaze so low that he was staring at her feet carpet rather than at her. She wanted to look him in the eye.

“Do not ever think of blaming yourself Spencer.” She asserted. “You love him, you were there for him. He knew how to contact you. You couldn’t have changed this, my love.”

He sniffed again, hiccuping slightly, “I’m so sorry-“

“You have no need to be sorry Spencer!” She stressed again, brushing tears away with her thumbs. “You are always welcome here and you can always come to me whenever you need anything. I- I love you, Spencer.”

He inhaled softly, “you don’t need to say it just because I’m a crying mess in your living room.” He chuckled softly, a sad sound.

“Spencer Reid we have been dancing around one another for nearly five years. I am madly, and irrefutably in love with you. I don’t expect you to feel the same, nor return my feelings, but right now I need you to know that I will always be here for you, no matter what. Day, night, rain, hail, shine, you can always come to me. So please, darling, do not think you in any way could be a cause of this,” he couldn’t dispute the intensity in her eyes. He knew that every word she spoke was true. He just knew. “You are the kindest soul. You and your team would have caught his murderer and put him where he belongs. You are grieving, but you need never blame yourself.”

He pressed his lips to hers softly, allowing his love to flow through the collection.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice wet with emotion. “I love you too.”

She smiled softly, hugging him as tight as she could. Just to remind him that she would always be there.

That night, he spoke to her about everything. His feelings over the past few years. His relationship with Gideon. His heartache. His loss of another father figure. His insecurities, his fear of losing another person that he loves.

She held him through it all. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep and dozed with him. Her genius needed her, and she would always be there for him. Whenever he needs a little comfort.

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[exodusmc]

Insider 02

Genre: Power au, war au, rebel au

Words: 1738

Paring: Light manipulator Baekhyun  x  Reader

Side character/s: Exo

Warning!: Talk about poisoning, panic attack, talk about killing and death, feeling like you don’t belong, 

a/n: Sorry I disappeared but I hope everyone had a good day, :)

Gif is not mine

Previous   Next

Yixing sat by the desk while you still stood. After everything which happened did another nurse come to check on you, her face stonic and clearly unhappy. But you were discharged and followed Yixing as he rolled away. Apparently the rebels found the three of you and saved you but something happened to Yixing’s right hip and lower back, making him stuck with the wheelchair. 

You knew that Yixing already knew about the rebels and when they would attack because he had an office here and it was filled with boxes, files with information he shouldn't have. In your hand was a report on the death of Mage and in the bottom of it was success written, right by the medication column. 

“..It wasn't to help them…”The doctor had those cold eyes again, the eyes he only had when bad stuff was brought up.”..nothing was meant to help them..”

The file fell down on his desk, leaving you staring at him and him staring at you. You had a hunch that the blue pills were something else but you never had to care before, you weren't even supposed to be there right then. Yixing had sent an order to bring the new unnatu-..to bring Baekhyun there so you did and was ordered to stay. The main reason was rebel attacks but who knew what Yixing did to keep you...Who knew anything at all.

“I found some files on your parents...if you want to read them..”Yixing placed the two folders on the desk, a red stamp screaming right at you on top. Dead. Dead was stamped on your parents' cases.”..I’m sure Junmyeon can tell you some things too..”

You stared at the files for a long time, knowing that inside would you mom’s and dad’s picture be. You had seen some of them but you never bothered to read the words, see the reality of your bloodline. 

“Why?”Yixing watched you for a while, following the lines on your face, the press of your lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Why was I born like this if they were not?”the question surprised him, left him quiet. Yixing hadn't thought about the fact that when he brought up your parents' real identity would he take away everything you knew about them, he would take away your only home. They weren't  just human, they were something more, but you weren't, and it made you lose the bond, leaving you alone in the world. 

“..I don't know…”a sigh passed his lips, deflated his lungs.”..It’s not a 100 % chance that children will always be born with power…”

You couldn't breathe, your throat clogged up. Why, why was it all a lie? It didn't even feel like they were your parents anymore, the longer you stared at the folders there were only names and no person behind it. 

Turning around, you rushed out, desperate to find anywhere else. You had to get out, had to be in nature so you could breathe. There was no air inside, only a loud ringing in your ears which drowned out Yixing’s call. This couldn't be reality, could it? Ever corridor was the same, every turn took you nowhere. Not until you collide with something softer. Arms caught you and a voice asked something you couldn't hear. 

“O-out...I n-need t-the out-outside!”panting you managed to catch feline eyes before you started to struggle to get away. He was one of them...he probably hates you. 

“Junmyeon we have a problem...Yes..Okay we are in corridor 458..”the voice kept speaking

but you couldn't be still, clawing at everything, even yourself.”Hey it’s okay..”

“Y/n?”another voice came, speaking softly as they held you. Why were you like this? You were supposed to be strong, not a crying mess..”Can you hold your breath for a second?”

No no no, then you would die, but the arms didn't let you go, only held you until you became quiet. It was like standing in the forest after the first shot but this time were you staring at the girl with flowers in her hands. She smiled and she withered, died. The panic came back, lurking under your skin, forcing out small puffs of air. Junmyeon noticed how you stiffen again before the panting started, making you shake. It was impossible to calm you down, everything fueled you to struggle more until you got out of Minseok’s grasp. There was a flip in your head, survival instincts turning on as you charged at them. No were only death on your mind, death and get away. You barely missed Minseok with your fist. 

“Y/n!”but you weren't there, not right now, so it ended with you laying in his arms, passed out again, because if he hadn't knocked you out, both he and Minseok would be dead. 

   Yixing paled slightly when he saw you in the hospital bed again. He tried to get to you but you ran too fast, you got away and he hated himself for that. He should be better but the hit he got had made him bound to the chair. 

“How is she?”Junmyeon asked the nurse who checked your stats, the same woman who helped you before. In her eyes were you still a demon, a killer who didn't deserve to live.

“She’s fine…”

“Thank you Sara..” Minseok leaned against the doorframe, watching the rise of your chest. 

“Who could have known someone like her would get panic attacks…”his voice was low but Yixing heard and it made him angry. You were robbed of much, you were a victim like them, a victim of the republic.

“..I don't think it’s a good idea for her to stay here..”Junmyeon turned to Yixing at his gasp, seeing the doctor with wide eyes. 

“Are you throwing her out?”

“No no..an ally is an ally but we have a ‘human’ devison where I think she would feel better..”everyone stared at you, listening to the steady beeping of the heart machine. Junmyeon knew what you had done and he knew that you had killed people who someone at the bunker may have known. He thought about the possibility of sending you away on multiple occasions and it seemed to be the best idea now…”Let’s ask her when she’s awake, okay?”

-

Baekhyun sat in his room, staring at his hands. He had gotten a warm shower for the first time in what felt like forever and he was given whole clothes which were clean. It didn't feel real, like it was a fever dream he was waking up from with the dim yellow light. There was another bed right in front of his own, a bed Yixing would use, since the rebels didn't have enough room for everyone to have their own sleeping place, but Yixing hadn't been around since Y/n woke up. It was still hard to grasp everything for him, that he wasn't a prisoner, that he was with the rebels, that Yixing knew. There were too many questions...They made his head spin. Maybe he should sleep? 

Yes, sleep. He needs to relax, close his eyes and let go. But the darkness brought the fright, cornering him. Baekhyun stared into the void, slowly feeling his pulse get faster. There was a light coming closer but it was too fast and when it collided with his body, was there an explosion. He was ripped apart, screaming until his lungs hurt. It destroyed and destroyed, wanted to kill him. 

Sitting up, Baekhyun was drenched with sweat and he was alone. The room was empty and the bed still made. Maybe Yixing never came, maybe he hadn't been sleeping for so long, but the ever lurking shadows left him trembling. 

-

“You know Y/n...we have another devison of our organization where I think you would fit in more..”Junmyeon spoke like a father, soft and careful but still with power. It was just that you weren't a child, you never got the chance to.”I was wondering if you would like to transfer there?”

You could leave it all,  you had no obligations to help them and you saved Yixing as well as Baekhyun so you didn't have to think about them. What Junmyeon suggested sounded good, left you to escape both this place and the expectations. 

“When would I leave?”your voice was cold, just like your face, wiped of emotion to get away. The thing is, you were raised to be a killer and now when you couldn't be sure at anything, was even your identity not yours, the little bit of life you had. 

“In around a day or two...It depends on how fast I can get in contact with them and get people to go with you…”he smiled, standing from his seat. Junmyeon watched you in the bed, seeing the escape plan forming in your head.”..Yixing would probably want to speak with you, is it okay if I call him?”

   Yixing was still in the wheelchair, his face dropping ever so slightly. It was Mina who pushed him to you, her orbs scared and shaking at the sight of you.  

“Hello Y/n...I’m sure Junmyeon spoke with you?”you nodded, keeping your gaze on him as Mina scurried away.”So I take that you agreed with him?”

“Yes..”why was he so hell bent on keeping you here? Yixing should be happy you could get away but it didn't sit right with him, the thought of you leaving. Your name was dripping like poison from their mouth’s and if he couldn't be there to protect you, who would?

“Okay..I guess I don't have anything to say then..”there were the files again, the red staring angry at you. Dead, dead, dead, just like the others, like the ones you killed.”Take them with you so you can see the reality through the republics eyes.”

You didn't want them, you didn't want to see the dreams be something else than a dream. Everything you knew was a lie and it left you standing in the void. 

Yixing rolled out from the room, black hair laying neatly over his head. All around you were white, white and grey, like the colours had been drained from life. There was nothing here for you, not even light.

Tags: @shesdreaminginoverdose​

[darks-ink]

Grave Robber - Ectoberweek 2019

Any chance I might’ve had to write this beyond the initial set-up was swiftly assassinated by my internet, which forced me to divest all my fic writing time into working on school. I’ll go back and write the found family section I actually wanted to write after things calm down again.

Rating: Teen Warnings: Implied/Referenced character death, Implied/Referenced child abuse Genre: Hurt/Comfort (only a little comfort) Words: 2,490 Additional Tags: One shot, Alternate universe - canon divergence, set between Maternal Instincts and Kindred Spirits (but close to Kindred Spirits), Not beta read

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Agent O shifted the ecto-gun in his hands, his finger on the trigger. He nodded at Agent K on the other side of the door.

They slammed open the door, guns swinging around to aim at any threats present beyond it.

No immediate danger. Just a narrow staircase down. No ghosts.

He stepped forward, taking each step slowly. He kept his gun steady, aimed forward in case a ghost laid in wait downstairs. Behind him, he could hear the rest of the team follow his lead, creeping down the stairs.

Finally it opened up into a large room, every surface plated in steel—the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Some kind of machinery sat along the walls, but Agent O didn’t have the chance to inspect them.

A ghost stood there, in the middle of the lab. Very humanoid, but short, with a young face. More intriguingly, it looked so similar to Phantom that O could’ve sworn that they were related—except that ghosts can’t be related.

The ghost balled its small fists, its posture tense. It remained grounded, oddly enough, standing in the open center of the floor.

O kept his gun aimed at it, his team flaring out behind them.

It likely wouldn’t be a threat, based on the other ghosts they had run into, but he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. The animalistic ghosts out in the grounds were vicious, but lacked intellect. The closer they had come to this room, the more human, the smarter, the ghosts had gotten.

Even if they had all dissolved into ectoplasm when they took a hard enough hit, there was no saying what kind of damage this one could do if they gave it a chance.

“Leave,” the ghost said, voice high-pitched and young. “I don’t want to fight you.”

Agent L, who had always been a little too cocky for O’s tastes, scoffed. “So what will you do if we don’t, huh?”

The ghost narrowed its eyes. “I don’t want to fight, but I will. I need to.”

“Yeah? Who—or what—is forcing you, huh?” L quirked an eyebrow, ignoring O’s gestures to please just stop talking. “Nobody needs to fight.”

“You don’t understand!” the ghost snapped back, tensing up even further. Its aura flickered bright and wide. “I need to protect the incubator, no matter what!”

Agent O frowned. An incubator? Was that what all these ghosts were supposed to be protecting? What could Masters possibly be incubating here, that made him go as far as to bind down ghosts to guard it? Why not just hire human guards?

Next to him, Agent K cleared his throat. Then, uncertainty in his voice, he asked the ghost, “Do you mean… that incubator?”

His partner released his gun with one hand to point at one of the machines displayed along the walls. The ghost turned to look, allowing Agent O a chance to inspect it as well. It seemed to be a cylinder of glass, with metal along the top, bottom, and back. The back was covered in ectoplasm, with the bottom half of it filled with liquid ectoplasm as well.

He highly doubted that this was the incubator the ghost was referring to. After all, there was nothing that could incubate in ectoplasm, was there? Besides ghosts, he supposed, but those didn’t need incubating; they just formed, and that was it.

But the ghost blanched. All fight seemed to drain from it, its shoulders slumping down and its fists falling by its sides.

“No,” it said, softly, eyes large and wet. “No, I can’t-- Why did it fail?”

Agent O shared a look with Agent K. They could ambush the ghost now, while it had its back turned to them. Capturing it would provide them with a wealth of information, especially if it shared any traits with Phantom besides appearance.

“Well, I’m not an expert--” Agent L started, and O turned to shoot him a sharp look. From the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost turn to face L as well. “--But I’m guessing that cutting the power might’ve done the trick.”

The ghost looked at him, wide-eyed. “Oh,” it whispered. “So I… failed. It was my fault.”

Agent L opened his mouth again, but O shot him a heated glare over his sunglasses, and L’s jaws clicked shut. Good. They were lucky that the ghost had decided that it was to blame, rather than blaming them for cutting the power in the first place.

A sniffle drew O’s attention back forward, and he blinked, stunned. The sniffle had come from the ghost, who looked genuinely upset. It wiped a hand past its eyes, but the motion seemed to dislodge its tears instead. A few tears, faintly glowing in the low lights, rolled over its cheeks.

“I failed,” it croaked out, its voice breaking with emotion. False emotion. It had to be false emotion; ghosts couldn’t feel. It had to be… falsified, somehow. A really convincing act. “I failed him. I promised Daddy, and I-- I--”

O’s stomach clenched. ‘Daddy’… That had to be Masters, right? No one else could’ve ordered it to guard here, in Masters’ mansion. So then why would it call him… that?

“Who is… Who did you promise, exactly?” he asked, despite himself. He told himself that he was just using the opportunity to learn more. The ghost could tell them information that they couldn’t learn from the tech lying around in the lab.

He ignored the quiet voice in the back of his head that told him no, that whispered, ghosts can only lie, and, you can’t trust anything it tells you.

The ghost looked up at him, still sniffling miserably. It wiped a gloved hand past its eyes again, rather uselessly. “Why are you asking?”

“Maybe we can… help,” he managed, the words awkward in his mouth. He’d never been very good at comforting. “Why did he ask you to guard the incubator? What was growing in there?”

It swallowed, heavily, making a third attempt at wiping away its tears. Finally, it seemed to have some success. He must’ve distracted it from crying.

“I… My brother… He was in there.” It looked over its shoulder, back at the glass tube, and sniffled again. “He’s… He’s gone, now, and it’s my fault!”

O hushed it, soothingly, before he knew it. Completely automatically, creeping forward slightly. He froze in the spot, coming to his senses. Realized that he had lowered his gun entirely, the weapon aimed at the floor instead of the ghost.

But it didn’t react to the lowering of his guard. Continued to look distraught, moments away from bursting into tears again.

He licked his lips. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

“Your… brother?” he asked the ghost, keeping his eyes on it. “Your brother became a ghost, but he was still growing in there?”

“Uh huh.” The ghost nodded, the tear tracks on its face glinting in the light. “Daddy didn’t want him to… He wanted him to be strong. Not like… Not like us.”

“Your dad made you ghosts,” O blurted out before he could think of it. As soon as he realized that he had said it out loud, he snapped his jaws shut, but it was too late.

The ghost nodded again. “He made… all of us.”

“All of you?” K repeated, before realization seemed to dawn. Just like it dawned for O.

The animals outside. The more humanoid ghosts inside. This one, right here.

Masters had found a way to force the dead to form as ghosts. And he’d been enslaving them, forcing them to follow his orders.

Good lord.

“But none of you were strong enough?” Agent M asked, a tremor to his voice. He, too, had lowered his gun.

Actually, now that O was looking back, he realized that everyone had lowered their guns. The realization had drained the fight out of each and every one of them.

“No,” the ghost confirmed, scuffing a foot on the steel floor of the lab. “We all… We don’t last, when we use our powers. Daddy knew how to fix it, he said, he just needed a little more time. So we had to wait. And then he would fix all of us.”

O swallowed, trying to dislodge the clog in his throat. It didn’t work.

“But if he could fix all of you,” he said, slowly, “Why did your brother have to stay in the incubator? Couldn’t he be fixed, just like all of you?”

���Oh,” the ghost said, looking up from the floor and meeting his eyes. Just like Phantom, its eyes were ectoplasm green, and glowed faintly.

Unlike Phantom, they seemed to shine with life, with emotion.

“Oh,” it said again, blinking slowly. “I… Yeah. I guess he could’ve. But… I don’t understand…”

“Can you clear something up for us?” O asked, crouching in front of the ghost. He felt vulnerable, but… it hadn’t lashed out, yet. Seemed more content to talk. “Your dad, who made you and your brother… as you are now. His name is Vlad Masters, yes?”

“Um.” The ghost wiped a hand past its eyes, smearing the tear trails away almost completely. “Yeah, I believe so. Do you… know him?”

“By name.” The fingers of O’s free hand rattled on his thigh as he thought. “Do you know why he was so intent on making you all ghosts? How did he do it?”

It shrugged. “He just wanted us to be… good. As good as we could be.”

“So then why did he take more care with your brother? Why did he leave you out here to guard him, if you were both equally… sick?”

“I…” It licked its lips, looked at the cylinder of ectoplasm again. “I… I think he might’ve liked him more… I think that he wanted… his perfect son. Not-- Not me.”

O’s heart clenched. He refused to acknowledge it.

Suddenly the ghost jerked, straightening its posture and balling its fists.

“No,” it said, voice harsh. “No, I can’t-- I refuse. You’re all-- all liars, lying to me, making me believe that Daddy is a bad man! I won’t let you!”

Agent O scrambled backwards, raising his gun at the same time. From his peripherals, he could see his fellow agents do the same.

The ghost snarled, green energy gathering around its clenched fists. Its aura flickered brighter, but it lacked the steady glow of other ghosts.

It really was weak. It was young, not just by human standards. Masters must have grown it recently.

Briefly, O wondered if the ghost was related to Masters, or if he had acquired the child otherwise.

He stamped the thought out as quickly as it had come. He couldn’t afford to think of that, not now. Not while the ghost had turned to its innate violent nature.

“I’ll-- I’ll make you all pay!” the ghost snapped at them. The ectoplasm coiling around its fists flared.

But O’s eye caught on bright green lower than its fists. Below its bright eyes, below the bright swirling around its fists…

It was melting.

Its legs were losing their monochrome coloration, reverting into thick, globby ectoplasm. Just like all the other ghosts had done, once they had taken too much of a beating.

This ghost… It must’ve been younger, still. Hadn’t stabilized yet. Masters probably never intended for it to, if he had taken it out of the incubator.

For some reason, this specific ghost hadn’t met his standards. Even though it considered him its dad. Even though it must’ve cared about him tons, even during life, for those memories to have retained. Or the love for Masters, at least.

O lowered his gun, just slightly.

“What--” K asked him, sharply, but O shook his head and he quieted.

“Look,” O told him, turning his head towards the ghost. K followed his gaze, inhaled sharply.

Then he, too, lowered his gun.

“What?” the ghost snapped at them. Then it followed their collective gazes, and turned its eyes towards its feet as well.

It gasped. Extinguished the ectoblasts immediately.

And, like a miracle, the ectoplasm around its feet pulled itself back together. Returned back to its previous shape, coloration, texture.

The ghost let out a sigh of relief, slumping in on itself.

Agent O shared a look with Agent K. They couldn’t leave the ghost here. This mansion needed to be cleaned out by their team, to ensure that they collected all the proof of Masters’ work here.

He was creating ghosts. Not only was harboring them illegal, thanks to the Anti-Ecto laws, but creating them implied that he was killing people for that specific purpose.

O counted back. The ghost here, and its brother in the incubator. At least two other humanoid ones in the mansion. A small ghost that had zipped around, too tiny and too fast for them to inspect properly, but glowing too brightly to be useful as an ambush.

So many animal-like ghosts outside that O wasn’t even sure that they had gotten all of them.

And Masters was responsible for all of them. Had won enough of their trust during life that they followed his orders in death.

He crouched in front of the ghost. The one ghost left, as far as they knew. The only intelligent one, certainly.

“Come with us,” he told it. “We’ll do our best to fix what Masters refused to. And, with your help, we can make sure he pays for what he has done.”

The ghost looked at him, eyes narrowed. The glow had dimmed considerably. Must be exhausted.

“Pays for what?”

“For making you all ghosts.” He looked past the ghost, at the incubator. “For making you suffer through this, knowing that you couldn’t last like this.”

“He didn’t know!” the ghost insisted, fists balling again.

O shook his head. “If he hadn’t, why would he have taken you out of the incubator, but left your brother? He knew. He knew, and he decided that the only one he cared about saving was him. But we will help. Or try, at least, more than Masters ever did.”

“I…” The ghost looked at the incubator as well, gaze lingering. After a long moment, she nodded, once, slow. “Okay. I-- You’re right.”

He reached over, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. “Come along, then. We’ve got quite a ways to go before we’re home.”

“Okay,” she said, trailing after him, up the stairs and out of the lab.

And Agent O ignored the quiet voice in the back of his head, which traitorously whispered at him, ‘you only care about her because she’s young.’

Because, he couldn’t deny, she was. Young when she had died, and barely formed as a ghost.

O was going to make sure that Masters paid. But, first, he had to take care of this ghost.

She had suffered enough.

[dreamingformuses]

my iron dad bingo! i requested it before i saw endgame, so the original one was really whumpy, so i changed some of the prompts myself ;) @irondadbingo i hope thats alright!
my first prompt is ‘nightmares’ 
read on ao3
@penis-parkerrr @ur-a-lizard-hairy @agib-2002
let me know if you like to be added to the tag list! (if i forgot you, i’m very sorry)

to set the stage: this is set post-endgame, but when tony did his thanos-killing snap, carol came in to help him because she is Super Powerful, and they kinda had a moment like in gotg 1. neither of them died, and all the dusted characters are back. “Hey, Peter?” Tony called. He could see him hunched over whatever he was working on across the table. 
“Hmm?” Peter answered, not even bothering to lift his head. 
“It’s getting late. And it’s a Friday, so if you want, you’re welcome to stay here for the night. As long as Aunt Hottie’s okay with it, of course.” 
“I thought we promised never to use Aunt Hottie again.” Peter put down his pencil and raised his eyebrow. “And where are Pepper and Morgan?” 
“Whatever. But text her, will you?” Tony said, and mimed typing on a phone. “There’s no rush to get to bed, of course. You know I’ll be here until at least two or three. And the lovely ladies are out of town, visiting Pep’s parents. So you don’t have to worry about wrangling Morgan to bed again.” Peter laughed ruefully. That was an experience he’d not soon forget. He then whipped out his phone and sent a quick message to May. She replied not long after. 
“She said yeah!” Peter shouted over the whirr of Tony’s drill. Tony flashed the okay sign, and they both continued on their projects. The webshooters’ release mechanism had gotten clogged up, so Peter was hard at work on a new formula that hopefully wouldn’t harden while it was still sitting in the holding chamber. Tony was busy banging out sheets of titanium alloy for his new and improved rocket boots. 
They stayed in the lab until well past the sun had set. FRIDAY had spoken up at around eleven, reminding Peter that it might be in his best interests to get to bed sooner rather than later. Peter just laughed, and said that he was too far into his equations to back out now. Nobody argued with him. It wasn’t until half past twelve that Peter had actually fallen asleep with his cheek on the lab table. Tony made the executive decision to carry him to bed, rather than have to listen to Peter complaining about how sore his neck was tomorrow. When they got into the elevator, Peter went from completely dead to the world, to consciousness enough to stumble the rest of the way to his room. 
Tony helped Peter maneuver his way onto his bed, and pulled the covers over him as he fell asleep again. “Buona notte, Peter.” he whispered, and shut the door behind him. Now that Peter was in bed, he didn’t particularly feel like going back down to the lab again. Maybe he’d actually read the thousands of emails forwarded to him. Might as well make Pepper proud. He grabbed a StarkPad and flopped onto the couch. He turned on the fireplace, and propped a pillow under his feet. There would be no reason to leave, and if it came to it, it would be a pretty okay place to sleep. 
There were emails from the Board of Directors. There were emails from the President. There were emails from Pepper. A lot of emails from Pepper, actually. He trashed the unimportant ones, responded to pressing matters, and arranged meetings, all in the wee hours of the morning. It was the first time he’d felt like an actual business owner in a while. Take that, Pepper. You see, I can be productive on things that actually matter. Tony asked FRIDAY to put on some music. Something quiet, though, so he could relax and Peter could sleep. It ended up being Erik Satie, which surprised Tony. He never thought he’d like ambient piano music, but, there he was. 
On the same point, however, he never thought he would be putting a teenager to bed, either. Guess it was a night of firsts all around. He glanced at the clock in the upper right hand corner of the tablet. 2:23. It was probably time to pack it up and hit the hay. He put the tablet on the coffee table, and moved the pillow from under his feet to under his head. He closed his eyes, and tried to let himself drift off. It was hard. Whenever one of his waking moments wasn’t being occupied by some sort of task, his thoughts would always circle around to the same horrible thoughts. 
The first Snap. 
The Snap that brought everyone back. 
Seeing Peter again for the first time in five years. 
His Snap. 
Almost dying in front of the son he just got back. 
Almost dying in front of his wife. 
Almost not being able to make it home to his daughter. 
 Tony was able to push those thoughts aside, though. Unfortunately, Peter wasn’t as lucky. Tony woke up to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice, not even an hour later. It was at a much higher volume than normal, almost like FRIDAY was trying to shout at him. 
“Boss! Boss! Please, wake up. Peter needs help.” FRIDAY said. 
“Wha-” Tony rubbed his bleary eyes open. 
“Peter needs help.” FRIDAY repeated. Tony shot up from the couch, and activated his watch gauntlet. It was definitely paranoid that he wore it all the time, but damn if it didn’t come in handy sometimes. He sprinted barefoot down the hallway, and fumbled to get the door handle open. He stormed in, gauntlet extended, and repulsor fully charged. There was nobody else in the room. Just Peter, curled up in a ball on the bed, and… was he shaking? Upon closer inspection, he definitely was. He was sweaty, and his fists were balled tightly around the sheets. It was a nightmare. Tony was sure of it. He’d done the exact same thing just one too many times before. 
Tony pulled the gauntlet back into his watch face, and rushed over to the side of Peter’s bed. He placed a tentative hand on Peter’s shoulder, and squatted down so they were at the same eye level. Peter was breathing hard, and Tony could see the faint glisten of drying tear tracks on his cheeks. “Hey, Pete?” Tony asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve gotta wake up. You’re safe, here, in the tower, not… wherever you are.” He brushed the damp curls out of Peter’s face. “Come on, buddy. You gotta get up.” 
Peter was trembling even harder. He was whimpering. They were little keening sounds like an animal in pain. Tony tried to shake Peter gently. “Peter, come on. Get up, kid. You’ve gotta-” Tony shook him a little bit harder, trying to coax him out of his fitful sleep. He moved his hand in soothing circles on Peter’s back. “Get up. Come on, Peter get up-” 
Peter woke up. He flew into a sitting position, and started to sob. He looked around blindly, and reached out, not expecting to touch anything. He groped for Tony’s arm, and as soon as he found it, held onto it like it was a lifeline. Peter’s eyes were wide open, but judging by the glassiness of them, Tony was sure he wasn’t really registering anything. 
“Mister- Mr. Stark… Mr. Stark-” Peter panted, and tried to scoot closer. Tony pulled him the rest of the way and into a tight hug. 
‘Hey… I’ve got you. You’re here, with me, and you’re safe. You’re not hurt- nobody’s gonna hurt you. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re safe. You’re in the Tower, it’s nighttime, and it’s 2023.” 
Peter looked up at Tony, his eyes wide and wet. “I- I’m okay?” he asked carefully. “You’re not dead?” he flinched. 
“It was just a dream.” Tony said soothingly. 
“It didn’t feel like just a dream. It- it was so real.” 
“You promise? You were…” Peter’s breathing got faster, harder. “No, no… no. You can’t- you can’t be here. You were dead, and just… you can’t.” Peter ran a hand through his hair and used it to pull his chin closer to his chest. Tony reached out for Peter’s other hand. 
“I know, bambino. I know it feels real, but I promise, it’s not. Another promise? I’m here. I’m warm and alive and breathing.” Peter shifted himself to be able to look more at Tony’s face. He tentatively reached up and brushed the side of Tony’s cheek with his fingertips. 
“You’re here?” 
“I’m here.” Tony reassured. 
“We- were on Titan.” Peter managed to get out between sobs. “I was gone- and then I came back… just in time…” he took a deep, shuddering breath. “Just in time to watch you die. You were gone, and I- nobody knew what to do. I didn’t know what to do.” 
“It’s okay. I’m here, I’m safe, I’m alive. I’m here with you. Pepper and Morgan are safe. You’re safe. Thanos is gone. It’s- It’s all okay.” Tony pressed a small kiss into the crown of Peter’s head. 
Tony shifted a bit, so he was fully sitting on the bed. Peter’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pleading. ‘No! Please- please don’t leave me. Not again.” 
“I’m not leaving. Just getting a bit more comfortable. My old man body wouldn’t last much longer with only one cheek on the mattress.” Tony shushed, and managed to get a small laugh from Peter. 
“You are kinda old.” Peter mumbled. 
“So you must be feeling a bit better.” 
“Better now that you’re here.” Peter said sheepishly, and untangled himself from his position against Tony’s chest. “FRIDAY? Lights to thirty percent.” The room was filled with a dim light. Tony could see the dark bags under Peter’s eyes. 
“Have you been sleeping? I mean- is this a common occurrence? The whole nightmare thing?” Tony asked. 
“Uh… kinda. Kinda sleeping, but it’s hard. After… everything. I get these dreams a lot, but there not usually this bad.” 
“Me too.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute. “Do you want to…” Tony continued. “I don’t know, come sit with me? Before you woke me up, I was just answering emails. You can come sit on the couch with me, and I’ll get you some hot chocolate or something, and you can watch your dumb show.” 
“Catching up on five years of Brooklyn Nine-Nine that I’ve missed is not dumb.” 
“If you insist. Are you coming?” Tony got up, and offered a hand to Peter to help him off the bed. Peter took it gratefully, and followed Tony down to the kitchen.

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

Get to Know The Author

Tagged by my bbbbyyyyyyyyy BBYYYYY @redemptionbaby (go check out her blog, it’s amazing!!!!!!)

1. What do you like to read in your free time?

Lately I’ve been sticking mostly to fanfic, to be honest - but I’m an avid reader, so I’ll read anything, really. I’m currently under a promise I’ve made to myself, not to read any book written after the 20th century and only the ones whose the author is dead.. It’s a bit macabre, but it’s been very fun to read the classics! I’m currently making my way through Jane Eyre.

2. Did you ever enjoy writing in school?

That depends, to be honest. I liked language classes, I always got a lot of praise for my writing. When I was 14, an essay I wrote in class for the misuse of internet by children/adolescents got taken to the principal and I received a small tribute for it at the school auditorium. I guess I peaked already and I’m never gonna achieve that again *sighs dreamily*

3. First fictional crush?

Mhmmm... I think it was probably... uh. Okumura Rin, from Ao No Exorcist? The otaku phase was gruesome. After I left that phase and entered the video game era, that was Ezio Auditore from Assassin’s Creed. Damn, he’s,,,,, hot.

4. What kind of characters compel you?

Usually... characters that stand up for themselves, that aren’t afraid to be judged by what they are. Do they seem weak? Tired? Misplaced, broken, overly emotional? Yeah. But do they care? No. Is that going to stop them from saving the day? No. Are they quitters? Also no. I’m huge into Marvel, so the best example I can find of it rn is: Captain Marvel, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Sherlock Holmes (BBC), Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders) and Captain America. They do... inspire me. I like humanity in characters!

5. What kind of narratives compel you?

Usually narratives with a strong psychological development are my thing! I really like writing about it too, since I have anxiety. I wrote a piece about it with some of my OC’s a while back and the outcome was better than I expected, so I kinda developed an appreciation for that sort of narrative.

6. Are your academic writing and creative writing at the same level of quality, or is one better than the other?

I believe they are quite equal. When we had group projects, I was always set as the writer of the essay, because my grammar is quite good and I can express myself pretty well. But I do enjoy writing creatively more, obviously!

7. Do you like to read references and put them in your writing?

I like practicing it while writing what I currently have at hand, if it matches my obligations/plans. I don’t rely too heavily on references, except when it’s for things that I don’t know well/am not familiar with.

8. What kind of environment do you like to write in?

I prefer the quietness of my bedroom. Lately, I’ve taken a liking to write in the hammock in my bedroom - because it’s beside the veranda and since I live in an apartment, I’ve got quite the view for when my eyes get tired of writing!

9. Random fact about your bedroom!

You’re more likely to find my bookshelf more organized than my bed will ever be. I organize my books by author/height decreasing order. Also, I tend to leave clothing on the floor. A lot. It’s not a good habit, so you guys shouldn’t do it. There is cat hair everywhere and I cover my PS4 with a face towel to avoid my cats’ hair to clog its exhauster.

10. Do you like to read as much as you like to write?

Sometimes I prefer to write, others I prefer to read. That is because sometimes I just don’t feel up for the writing/reading, I suppose. It’s hard to explain, but lately I’ve been really into the reading bit. But mostly fanfic. I went down on the Sherlock fandom again, those were the days.

11. What’s your most recent fixation?

Mhmmmm... RDR2 has really got me like woah, I’m somewhat new to the fandom, but lately my Marvel hyperfixation has hit me square in the chest and I’m binging all the movies all over again because I lack self control and am completely and utterly in love with Tony Stark since I have lots of daddy issues. Nice huh.

Now I have to come up with 11 questions and tag 11 and I have no idea who to tag besides @anniesburg @marshmallow--3 and @arthurmorgan-s-heart (because I really like their writing and I’m too shy to contact.)

What’s your favorite book or author? Why?

If you were to be an animal, which do you think that fits your personality?

Tell us about your biggest character crush, recent or not.

Do you struggle with anything about writing? If yes, what is it?

What’s your favorite pairing from your favorite fandoms? 

Top 5 songs that you can relate to the lyrics

When you’re writing, do you usually listen to music? If yes, what genre?

Do you prefer the quiet town aesthetic or bustling city?

At what age did you start writing fanfic and to which fandom?

Are you friends with any popular author of your fandom? If yes, how did you befriend them?

Biggest nono when reading fanfic? Could be a tag, writing style, thematic.