#lotta angst had to happen for this to conjure

[beetle-drip]

The “Cryptid” kiss 

MJ(left) belongs to my fwiend @prussianvenom @prussianvenomocs

[munsonsreputation]

A MOVIE I'VE SEEN BEFORE

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.9K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, steve not knowing how to feel about truly being appreciated and loved, nightmare (stevie is ok), reassurance, tooth-rotting fluff, PLENTY OF KISSING AND TOUCHING BUT NO SMUT & ANYTHING EXPLICIT, basically a lotta love and little angst!

summary: this feeling is all sorts of new to steve harrington -- actually being appreciated and loved. he doesn't know how to take it, let alone know if it really is real or not. maybe you're too good to ever exist, just something he thought up in the middle of the night? who knows? just the ceilings he stares at as he thinks of you.

It felt really cliché — high school teenagers who finally got to be in the same room alone with their crush cliché.

But only you and Steve were, in fact, not teenagers, nor were you two in a room. It was more like the crowded space in the front of his car where you had to maneuver yourself into a position comfortable enough so your lips could lock with his.

Even with the shift gear bearing into your ribcage, you felt none of it. Not with his lips on yours and definitely not with his hands roaming your skin, gracing it with his tender touch.

Time slipped by too fast tonight and you wished it would go by slower, not wanting to go another second let alone day, without him near. Almost like a drug that you couldn’t stray far away from because he was that addicting. Not merely his touch, but just him.

Steve felt the same way, not knowing how he made it this far without you in his life. For a moment it felt you and him were just doomed to be strangers who ran into one another at a party then spent the rest of your lives wondering what would’ve happened if either of you made a move.

But regret wasn’t something you nor Steve were going to live with, so it was inescapable to find yourselves here. Sitting in his car, parked in your driveway, making out like lovesick idiots after your second date.

The first one was when you two ditched the party and went up to the roof of the house to talk over lukewarm punch then proceeded to make out for hours.

The second, or what is supposed to be your first official date was the movies. Watching a new release with your head snuggly leaning on his shoulder and his arm desperately drawing you in, needing you closer despite the barrier between the chairs.

Now with rain thudding against the windshield, wet kisses echoing in the vehicle, and the late night radio long forgotten — this was the closest you’d been to Steve all night but you both just wished for more.

Only the clap of thunder bouncing off the exterior of his car and the quick flickers of light you saw beneath your closed ones let you both know that it was slowly going to be over soon.

Too soon.

But maybe the moment wouldn’t need to be ruined so soon.

Shivers raced up your spine, throwing your head back away from his lips when they faltered to the spot right below your ear. Chest rising up and down, you fluttered open your eyes, met with the scene of Steve adoring every inch of your skin he could reach.

Your hands clutched his shoulders, squeezing as you felt his lips detach from your neck.

“D-Do you maybe wanna stay the night?”

A pang to Steve’s heart when your words hit his ears because he was totally going to be a fool if he passed up on the offer you laid out.

He’d spend all his nights with you if it meant just getting to be close enough to hear your heart beating because it meant you were really real, not just a dream that he conjured up and had the honor of hallucinating about.

Steve’s lips were a rosy pink-reddish hue from the pressure and time spent with them on you — a direct mirror of what yours looked like, but he was sure you looked like an actual angel that was sent from above and kissed him stupid.

His thumb and forefinger grasped lightly at your chin, setting your gaze straight at him where he buzzed softly, eyes coated with reassurance just to be certain.

“A-are you sure? You don’t—”

You nodded against his touch with a small smile appearing on your face, “I’m sure I really really want you to stay the night.”

God, you sounded so desperate, like you were longing and needing for him to say ‘yes’ when, in actuality Steve would never make you beg for him to stay.

Not now.

Not Ever.

Because he was the one who desperately needed you in order to know that what he was feeling was true. That, for once, someone wanted him the way that he wanted you. Reciprocation of the sweetest yet petrifying feelings that could disappear in the blink of an eye if he wasn’t paying attention.

But all of his attention was on you, never ceasing.

He couldn’t help but lean forward, pecking another sweet kiss upon your lips as his fingers shut off the ignition. Racing out of his door, he rounded towards the passenger side, opening it and leading you out with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the wet pavement and rainfall.

Laughter ensued with his arms making its best attempt to shelter you from the unforgiving pelts of rain while you searched your purse for your house keys. And while Steve hated the rain on most days, with you it seemed to be lovely, like a sort of privilege to be rained on with you.

His shoes were surely full of water and his socks were totally soaked, like the rest of you and him, but that didn’t matter. Not when you looked so cute applauding yourself for eventually unlocking the door and swiftly reaching your hand back to pull him in by the shirt.

“That was cute,” Steve chuckled, closing the door behind him and stopping beside you at the rack of shoes at your front door.

You giggled, reaching down to undo the straps of your sandals while he shagged his hair with a shake. Tiny water droplets glistened on the exposed skin of his arm even with the dimness in the corridor.

“I’m glad my cuteness makes up for the downpour…it seriously looks like we just came out of a hurricane.”

He grinned, peering up to see you combing your fingers through your hair as he began toeing off his shoes, not worried at all about the rain damage his Nike Cortez’s just endured. Your palms squeezed the ends, letting the excess drip onto the running rug beneath your bare feet — he would totally advise you later about the mold that could grow because of the humidity, but right now that wasn’t his concern. It was more so the soft chattering of your teeth and the way he saw your shoulder bounce unevenly from the cold.

He stepped closer, letting his warm hands run up and down your water beaded arms. “S’ok, we can get warmed up.”

You blushed, looking up at him through your rain-sodden lashes. He looked just as flushed with cherry red cheeks not realizing that his words came off with a sexual innuendo that you caught.

“Aren’t you such a flirt, Harrington?” You teased, letting your fingers walk up his torso, stopping at his heart, feeling the pulse right under your fingertips.

He swallowed, tongue running over his lips, “I, uhh, I didn’t mean—we don’t have to-”

“Hey,” your teasing voice now came to him in a soothing one, your fingers moving from his heart to over his cheekbones, pulling his eyes to yours.

“I was just teasing. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. You know that I just want to be here with you, ok?”

He couldn’t believe you were real.

“I know…I want to, but maybe not tonight. I wanna take my time with you, show you how much I really like you…what you deserve.”

Turning down sex with the prettiest girl in front of him was not what he pictured himself ever doing. The old Steve would jump at the idea of hearing you say how much you wanted him. But he wanted you, desperately, and when he got the chance to have you, all of you, he wanted it to be special.

“I’d love that,” you hummed, eyes softening as you perched up on your tiptoes, letting your lips graze over his plump skin.

His lively hands left your arms, instead wrapping themselves across your back and hoisting you up as you yelped and giggled against his lips, “Wanna direct me to the shower?”

Your legs tightened around him, palms holding his face in your hands as you broke the kiss in between directions not wanting to waste a second away from him.

“Down the hall, the first door to the left is my bedroom. The door on the right wall is the bathroom.”

Precious cargo you were in his arms, doing his best not to stumble as you continued to kiss him, trailing from his mouth, to his cheeks, jaw, neck, right at the pulse point where you could practically hear his heart thudding for you.

The slight squeak of the door hinge opening prompted you to pull away, smothering your giggles against your shoulder, hearing him sputter out obscenities as he used his elbow to switch on the light in your bedroom.

With your bathroom door already open, he didn’t waste any more time heading straight there and placing you gently down on the empty space of your counters. His hands slapped at the light switch on the opposite wall, illuminating up the tight space and letting the both of you see each in the bloom.

He cradled your face in his hands, dropping his thumbs in up and down motions on the apple of your cheeks, observing and feeling the way your skin tugged up with the smile that coated your face.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Baby.

His baby.

You.

He wanted to call you every sweet name there was in the universe but baby seemed to be the sweetest in the moment…probably ever.

“You’re the real sight for sore eyes, Stevie.”

He was melting right before you and he couldn’t pinpoint if it was the sickly sweet nickname or the sappy compliment. Either way, both were coming from you — it was you he was melting for, undoubtedly.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”

Steve wasn’t sure why he was giving you a warning, as if he had given you signals to the never ending kisses he gave you all night, but it felt right. Him giving you the heads up that he was going to kiss you right now and probably not stop until you told him to.

Your nose nuzzled against his, breathing fanning over his face, “Please…and please don’t stop.”

The kisses were slow, meticulous, and deep. Even when your hands began roaming each other’s body, pulling away to ask if it was alright to shred the fabrics away, you both met each other with a passion that you wanted to linger — taking all the time in the world.

New and bare skin to each other’s touch now being worshiped with each skim, clutch, and rub. All of the novelty between the both of you and craving to memorize each part of one another like the world depended on it.

With steam and desire filling up your bathroom, hot water and suds of soap ran down your bodies. It was difficult to feel an ounce of timidity knowing that you’d both let each other explore.

The slopes of his slippery shoulders adorned with tiny countless pecks.

The stretch of your spine lathered with the ample feel of his fingers running up and down.

The fuzz on his chest rubbing against your own with your lips molded together.

The nape of your neck decorated in tattooed kisses you wouldn’t bother to ever hide.

The tips of each of his fingers receiving a peck for all the touches he gave you.

It felt so good to be wanted like this.

To be needed like this.

For this to be enough.

For this to be forever.

Bedsheets rumpled over your nude figures, keeping the both of you warm from the bitter weather that still persisted outside your window. Both of damp heads squished under one pillow, but mostly you laying on his chest, feeling his heartbeat right below your ear.

Your soft legs tangled with his stubbly ones, wrapping over his thighs and hips, marrying you two close together like you couldn’t stray too far even when sharing the same bed.

His arms enveloped you to him, feeling your chest rising against his biceps and your back falling under his palm. The soft snores running from your parted mouth, giving him reasons to know that you were comfortable enough to fall fast asleep with him here with you.

Watching you sleep was a sight for sore eyes. He did it for a few minutes after you fell into slumber. In your sleep, your face didn’t mask any smiles from his jokes or worry from hearing his problems. It was just you in all of your glory — reduced and tranquil.

Eyelashes kissing the space under your eyes. Your eyebrows and the crease between them at ease. Cheeks full yet resting from the grins he knew you’d be giving him tomorrow. Lips still chapped from kissing, now given a break until daylight.

His heart couldn’t take the scene in front of him, as if it was too surreal to think someone like you could ever spend the night here with him like this.

So he settled for the plaster on your ceiling, the bumps and ridges that smeared the wall and kept the two of you protected. He contemplated his feelings as he stared at the beige, gray above him, wondering if the walls could talk, would they tell him all about you — not your secrets, though. He didn’t want to hear about them, not if they weren’t coming from you willingly.

He just wanted to know…know that this could last for eternity.

To get to hold you like this when you two fell asleep and still feel you in his arms by the time he woke up.

To get to call you cute all throughout the day and see the blush that would rush to your cheeks each time.

To get to lie here with you and have to bite his tongue in order to fight the urge to wake you up and tell you he was head over heels in love with you already.

To ruin the moment.

The thunder resounded louder.

The rain fell harder.

The ceilings above you two began to crumble, sinking down, down, down until — splash.

Now he was laying under chaos.

“Steve, I said I have to go now…”

His eyes snapped open, you in his passenger seat with a look of confusion plastered on your face. It took him a minute, blinking lazily and letting his eyes fall to the surroundings in order for it to hit him.

It was just a dream, one that he thought up on the spur of the moment, something that was too good to be true.

“Oh…umm, yeah! Sorry, I just—” He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut, annoying for behaving this way in front of you.

But you didn’t wait for him to gather his thoughts, just opening your own door and letting the sounds of the rain and thunder come to him. The wind blew a drizzle of rain inside his car, misting over his face and prompting him to open his eyes.

Your hair blew against the draft. Standing still in the doorway looking straight through him you whispered just loud enough for him to hear through the storm.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

You didn’t shut the door or walk to the front door of your place. Instead, you were gone with the wind, floating and being taken away from him, amounting to nothing but ash and dust.

“No! Come back! P-please—”

He ran out of his car, rain soaking through his clothes and filling his shoes as he frantically looked around. The trees swaying and sky lighting up with flashes with you nowhere to be found, like you didn’t even exist.

“Steve, baby…hey, c’mon. Wake up, please.”

Gasping with a sharp intake of fresh air, his eyes flew open. Met again with the plaster on your ceiling, but with you in the forefront of his sights. Your eyebrows were pinched together and lips tugged worryingly between your teeth, staring at him keenly.

“W-what happened?” Steve choked out, bringing a hand away from your back to cover his mouth as he continued to cough and groan.

You sat up fully, binding the covers across your chest, and dropping a soothing hand over his collarbones, “I don’t know. You were moving around in your sleep…maybe it was a bad dream?”

A really bad one.

He needed to be sure this wasn’t another one.

“You’re here right?” Steve confided in the dark.

He hoped he didn’t sound pathetic for asking, but he just needed to know.

Desperately.

You nodded assuringly, relaxing your shoulders, leaning down enough to hover over him, “I promise, I’m right here.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?” He asked again to be positive.

You smiled tenderly, settling your forehead against his, nodding and letting your lips skim his.

“I promise.”

A kiss to seal the deal and show him just how real you really were — one that he could recall but certainly wouldn’t let be the last.

Laying here long gone from the chaos and now just basking in the comfort of you beside him because it was real and you did exist.

It hit him, closing his eyes, and relaxing under your touch that it wasn’t ever going to be over.

That this was just the start of a movie he had seen before, but this time with an ending that would mark happily ever after.

a/n: i love "ceilings" by lizzy so much and im so happy i got to write this short little imagine! i had the idea in the middle of the night and shared it with my love @/translatemunson and you know i just had to deliver!!! hope you all loved it and know that you deserve all the love in the world, just like our baby girl stevie!!!

let me know what you think: reblogs, tags, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa

[lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie]

Drift Away

Summary: Happy to listen, Happy to stay...or What happened after the recent episode. 

A/N: possible spoilers ahead so scroll away if you haven’t watched the recent episode yet. also enjoy my crappy writing! It’s been a while since I wrote shit. Especially for this fandom. 

Warnings: none but possible spoilers and a lotta angst

Ships: Slight Demus

Taglist: @enigmasalad

It had been two days since Deceit, or Janus, had been accepted by Thomas and the others. Janus was now too busy to spend time with Remus who had no idea that his partner in crime was no longer a dark side. The lack of time together upset Remus. He tried to be patient. He really did but Janus would come join him less and less. The lying side barely spent time with him when he asked, always having some excuse. They didn’t play as much they used to and it made Remus feel lonely. Sure, he could conjure up a playmate or ask someone in his own part of the Imagination but there was no fun in that. No one was snarky or witty like Janus. No one put up with him and ran with his ideas like Janus.

So Remus laid down on the dirt ground of his barren imagination, watching the clouds up in the dark sky. He’d been there, waiting for Janus but it’s been an hour. He decides to get and go find him, standing up from the ground and pulling himself free from some overgrown roots that must have randomly sprouted while he was playing with the dirt. He picks up his Morningstar and heads out of the Imagination and ends up back in his own room. No one’s here but him. It’s awfully quiet. Sighing, he decides to go to Janus’ room. He was the only one other than Patton and Logan that was allowed in.

“Janus! Are we going to burn the village down again yet?” Remus asks as he sinks up into the side’s room.

Remus froze, his Morningstar clattering to the ground as he takes in quite the scene before him. Janus’ room was almost empty. The yellow glow gone and replaced with an orange hue. The pet snake was gone and the bed was empty save for one white pillow. Then there was Janus…holding a trash can and tearing down all the drawings and cards that Remus gifted him all these years.

“J-Janus?”

“Shit!”

Janus drops the trash can, balls of paper rolling out of the trash can and old papers fluttering out. He turns to see Remus standing there in shock, eyes wide.

“R-Remus, I can explain!” the former dark side stammers.

“Explain what? That you’re leaving?!”

“Remus, please, listen to me!”

Remus only screams and it shakes the room, making Janus stumble.

“You promised, Janus! You promised! After Virgil left us, you said you’d still be here with me! Now you’re just going to leave me?!” I thought…I thought you loved me!”

Janus takes a step closer, hands moving to touch Remus. He’s startled as Remus suddenly pulls him close.

“Remus, I…I…” he tries to say but Remus shake his head.

“No! I don’t want you to go! You’re all I have left! I-If y-you go, I’ll be alone! I don’t want to be alone! Don’t leave me here, Janus!” Remus cries.

Janus sighs, gently pushing Remus off of him.

“I’m sorry, Remus but Thomas needs me now. I have to help him.”

Remus shakes his head in denial, trying to hug Janus again only to be held back.

“S-So you’re just going to forget me like that? You’re going to leave and that’s it?” he chokes. “W-What, are you going to replace me next? Huh? Are you going to hang out with…with Roman now? Is that it?”

Janus’ eyes widened and he shakes his head in a panic.

“What? No, no! I…I really have to go help Thomas. I promise to come back to you. I do!” he tries.

“Bullshit!”

“Remus…”

“No! First, Virgil left us. Now, you’re leaving me!”

Janus shakes his head once more and cups Remus’ face.

“Remus, look at me.”

Remus sniffles and looks up at him with a frown.

“What?”

“I will come back. I mean it. But until then, I need you to do something for me.”

“Like what?”

“Something simple. A fun game. You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Okay.”

The lying side sighs, moving his hands away from Remus’ cheeks and taking his hands in his own. He picks up Remus’ Morningstar and hands it to him before leading him to the bed.

“Sit down.” he tells him.

Remus does so, tilting his head when Janus lets go of him.

“I want you to stay here and wait for me, okay? If you’re still here by the time I get back, we’ll do whatever you want for one day. You have to promise me that you’ll stay here and you won’t move until I get back, Remus.” Janus explains, giving him a small smile.

Remus sniffles but nods.

“Okay. But you’ll come back right?” he asks.

“I will, I promise.” Janus lies.

Janus then stands and heads for the door.

“Janus?”

“Yes, Remus?”

“You’re still one of us, right?”

“Of course, my wretched one.”

With that, Janus left and Remus sighed to himself. The dark prince huffed and played with his Morningstar, running his fingers lightly over the spikes. It had only been a few moments but…well, he’s bored! It’s odd, he thinks, how Janus didn’t need his help with Thomas this time or the few times before that. Now that he really thinks about it, Janus has been with Thomas a lot lately. Why would Thomas need a dark side’s help? Doesn’t he usually go to Logan or Patton or the other two for help? Remus doesn’t know and turns to look at the window beside him. Maybe it’s just a quick thing and Janus will be back soon. Remus then decides to conjure up random things while he waited.

Days. Weeks. Months. No Janus. Remus kept waiting and waiting and waiting. He didn’t move. He didn’t stand. He didn’t do anything else, only conjuring up whatever his mind could think of. Soon he’d grow bored and made those conjured things disappear.

Another month passes and it’s now been six months since Janus told him to wait. Remus is really bored now and he hasn’t left the room or bothered Thomas in forever. Maybe Janus won’t mind if he had a little peek outside? Breaking the rules, Remus stands and heads for the door. When he opens it, he doesn’t expect to see Roman on the other side.

“Ro? What are you doing here?” Remus asks, looking his twin over.

Roman looked awful. His hair was a mess and his princely outfit was gone, replaced with one of his Broadway t-shirts and pair of sweats. He looked like he’d been crying a lot too, eyes red and all.

“I was looking for you, Rem. I thought you’d be scorching the peasants with Janus again.” the light prince replies, his voice lacking its usual dramatical tone.

“No…Janus told me to wait here until he gets back. It’s been months. Have you seen him?”

Roman shifts hesitantly at that, arms crossed and gripping at his own shirt.

“I…I…”

“Ro?”

Roman sighs and takes a deep breath and swallows.

“Janus is a light side now.”

Remus’ eyes widened and his heart shattered. His body trembles as he processed what he just heard. Janus…Janus is a light side. The snake broke their promise just like that. Tears well up in Remus’ eyes, the Morningstar in his hand falling to the ground again.

“No…no…he promised me…He said he’d be back…He promised he’d be back!” he mutters.

Roman sighs, reaching over to touch Remus’ shoulder only to feel his twin flinch.

“He told me not to tell you but I wanted to. I’m not happy about this either.”

Remus shakes his head, the lights flickering above as his eyes turn black.

“No…no…Isn’t that lovely? Isn’t that cool? A-And…And isn’t that cruel?” he mutters. “Well…aren’t I fool to have listened and stayed?”

“Re- “

“NO! I TRUSTED HIM AND HE LEFT ME!”

The room shakes and the walls start to crack. Laughter echoes from somewhere and Remus screams as he falls to his knees. The sound of Janus’ voice soon joins in.

I promise, I will come back.

Roman sighs and kneels down, opening his arms to his brother. Remus looks up at him and throws himself into his brother’s arms, breaking down with a scream. The room shakes some more and the walls crack more, the windows threatening to do the same.

“Remus…shh…calm down. It’s okay.”

Roman comforts Remus. The two of them may often not get along as much as they used to but they would always be there for each other during times like this. They stay there for a few silent moments until Remus can’t cry anymore, the shaking slowly coming to a stop. The lights flicker back on and the cracks on the walls soon mended themselves. Silence soon falls in and the brothers don’t move for a moment.  

It’s funny how Janus of all people brought Remus to his brother like this. They haven’t done this since…well, they don’t really talk about that side. They just both know that they never really liked the color orange…

Sniffling, Remus sighs and looks up at his brother. He’s crying too. He knows why. He knows how hard Roman tries to show the others that he can help Thomas too. He’s stayed up with his twin, bouncing ideas back and forth albeit their different mindsets. He remembers the night after the wedding and the video shoot when Roman stormed into the imagination in tears. He remembers him telling the story of how Janus stole all the attention and how Thomas accepted someone like him. At first, Remus tried telling him that he’s still loved and needed only to find out that Patton had done that already. He tried offering his side of the imagination to Roman as a way to let some anger out through destruction. Roman had been too upset and said no. His brother never said no to that. He remembers helping Roman back to his room before going to talk to Janus.

Remus had tried to talk to Janus, telling him that they should talk things out about what happened earlier. Janus growled at him that he ‘didn’t want to talk to that overly dramatic, attention-seeking, selfish fool’ before leaving. They didn’t speak for the whole following day. Then later that evening Janus apologized…to Remus. He was still upset at Roman. Since then, Remus had been stuck between them. He loved Janus but he also cared about his brother. But after what just happened, Remus made a choice.

“Hey, Ro?”

Roman looks down at him.

“Yes, brother?”

“Let’s be The King again.”

Roman’s breath hitches. They hadn’t re-joined in years. The power had grown to be too much for one being as Thomas grew over the years so they split. Remus couldn’t trust himself with one of the crowns so he asked Roman to hide them. Roman agreed and left with the crowns. Then they chose their sides. The King hadn’t returned since.

“Remus…Are you sure you want to be him again?” he asks after a moment of silence, squeezing his brother’s shoulder. “It’s been a while and we might end up becoming unstable.”

Remus sighs and nods.

“I’m tired of being alone, Roman…I want to be…better. Needed. Don’t you?”

Roman sighs. He’s got a point. Things were…better before they split. They had always needed him and everyone loved him. Maybe…maybe he should. Then he’ll be enough for them. They’ll be perfect and they won’t have to hurt inside ever again. They’ll be…loved again.

“I do. Let’s be The King again.”

So they leave the old bedroom and head into the imagination. No one sees them for a week. When Patton goes to check on Roman, there’s no answer at his door. His bedroom is empty. He’s not even in Virgil’s room. So, he asks Janus to check Remus’ room. He’d go himself but Remus’ room is…not exactly safe for work.

Janus heads down to the basement of the mindpalace where the dark sides reside. He hadn’t been down here since he left to help Thomas and join the others. For some reason, he had a feeling he’d forgotten something here. He walks down the steps and things are oddly…quiet. This is usually the part where Janus sees his door blown up and Remus causing chaos out of impatience. But now it’s just…silence. Nothing more. It makes Janus a little uneasy. Taking a deep breath, he gently opened the door.

“Re-…Oh no.”

“Oh yes, my dear Janus.”

Remus was gone. There on the bed was The King himself, smiling as he sat calmly. His outfit looked like Roman’s but it was black, a bright red sash laying over it. On his head was a gold crown with bright green and red jewels, glinting under the light. The King had returned. He grinned and began clapping slowly.

“Bravo, Janus. Bravo! Best actor! Alfred Hitchcock would be proud.” The King says sarcastically. “Why, it’s even better than your role as Patton! Far more believable, don’t you think so?”

Janus couldn’t believe it, unsure of what to say as The King stood up. He was a lot taller than the two princes.

“Please, I can explain! Just un-fuse!” he pleas.

The King chuckles.

“Now, now. Why would I do that? It’s lonely being apart. Besides, this room was…getting crowded. Besides, I doubt any explanation you can give me is true. You can take your gloves off and hold up your right hand but deep down you’re still just a snake. A lying snake.”

“Remus, please!”

Janus tries to touch The King but he’s ignored.

“Remus doesn’t want to speak to you. He says he’s done playing with snakes.” The King hisses.

“Roman?”

“You said didn’t want to talk to him. So, he’s not going to talk to you.”

Janus sighs, moving to stand in front of The King only to be lifted by his magic and set aside.

“Please, Remus. Let me explain.” the lying side tries again.

The King pauses.

“Oh, I’ve heard enough. I don’t need another bullshit explanation.” he glares at Janus.

Janus is a light side…

Janus freezes up. He knows now. Remus knows everything. He stands there as The King moves past him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to give Thomas some…creativity right now.”

“Remus…”

“Farewell, Janus. Thank you for helping me re-form.”

Happily watching him drift away...

[arigatouiris]

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [04]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 1941

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i don’t get that many notes on this story but that’s okay! i love arthur, and i love writing so i guess i don’t need notes to update this fic. but, it would help a great deal if you guys would let me know if this story is worth reading? it’d be a boost for motivation as well. anyway, for marvel fans, i’m also writing a bucky barnes fanfiction that’ll be out soon, so be sure to look out for that! 

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Four: The Wild West is Filled With Bastards

○

John was slowly making life difficult for her. (y/n) knew that John knew, and even if his words weren’t taken seriously, there was not another soul out there in the world who knew (y/n) was still alive and was disguising herself a woman. John would pass dirty glares at her as she did her regular chores as Riley, forcing Mrs. Grimshaw to smack him a couple of times for slacking off. Sure, (y/n) felt bad for the boy—frustrated that no one took his words seriously, and having everyone believe he was spewing nonsense. 

But, what if someone one day listened to him? What if they get to know that she’s a scrawny little woman who’s after something women shouldn’t be after?

Chills went down her spine each time she thought of such an aftermath. She would have to do something about John, she knew. She would have to worry and think of a plan that can perhaps convince John that she was a man. I can’t convince him, I can’t show him a penis that ain’t there, she thought, frowning to herself as she stacked the pile of hay in front of Dutch’s horse. She was slowly rising into panic, and she knew it was only about time before John loses it and yells that she’s a woman.

However, before any of that could happen, Hosea had a request. Hosea’s request made (y/n) want to almost leave the group, but considering how Dutch insisted as well, she knew she had no other choice.

“Take John wit’ ya. He’s slackin’ off most of the time, and there ain’t much out here that he can do. Buyin’ groceries and medicine might do ‘im some good.” Hosea’s kind voice and kind smile made her feel bad that she was lying to him.

“I ain’t goin’ with her!” John protested, visibly looking livid.

(y/n) felt her insides do a flip. Her gaze turned to Arthur, who chuckled once before slapping the boy’s back.

“You still on with this nonsense, Marston?” Arthur asked.

“It ain’t nonsense, Arthur! Like ya’ll ever believe me. Ask ‘er! Ask ‘er to show ya’ll her penis—”

Another smack.

“That’s enough from you, Marston.” Arthur sighed.

(y/n) was perhaps the only one who was possibly shitting her pants. However, going to town with the boy might change things. To either good (which, she highly doubted) or bad, which was possibly the case.

“Take Arthur’s horse for now. But here,” Hosea came forward and gave (y/n) some money. “Buy yerself a new one. You’ll need it—”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, before returning the money. She pressed her lips together before pulling out her small notebook.

I don’t want to buy a horse. “Buying” sounds wrong. It’s life.

(y/n) blushed before showing it to the man, who chuckled a couple of times.

“Well, then. Let’s hope someone gives one to ya, then.” Hosea joked before turning away.

Arthur didn’t catch hold of the note. John’s words stuck on, but he knew the boy wasn’t being serious. But, to let a joke continue on for so long? Arthur frowned before eyeing Riley from top to bottom, finding no hint of him being a woman like John says so. The baggy shirt that he was wearing was messy, but there was no sign of womanhood on the boy. Sure, he looked ragged and scrawny but he had seen his fair share of scrawny boys. The wild west wasn’t really a place where all boys grew to be men.

He shrugged his thoughts away before minding his own business. If it was anything, then it was Riley’s problem to deal with. Not his.

○

“I hate bein’ paired with you.” John said, frowning.

Because (y/n) had chosen not to take Dutch’s horse, they had taken the carriage instead. John sat beside her, not really wanting to, but there was only so much he could do. Sure, he put up a fight when it came to actually cooperating with her, but (y/n) knew he wouldn’t so much as to raise his voice or disobey Hosea or Dutch. They had raised him, after all.

“You ain’t foolin’ no one, lady.” John said, hoping to instigate some reaction out of (y/n).

She didn’t budge. She kept her gaze straight and her eyes didn’t waver. If only John didn’t pose too much of a threat, she’d have smacked him on the head, herself.

“I don’t get what yer tryin’ ta prove.”

You’ll never understand, either way, she thought before maintaining her composure. She licked her lips once before catching a glimpse of a small town in the front—Fogmount. Tiny, but sufficient. She had the list that Mrs. Grimshaw had given, and she hoped John wouldn’t run off.

She looked at the boy who shot her the meanest glare a 15-year old can conjure, and turned away from him.

“I ain’t runnin’, don’t get yer panties twisted in a bunch.”

Oh, I really wanna hit him now, she thought before frowning. After stopping the carriage near the entrance, she gestured for John to follow. The boy grunted before choosing not to say anything more. The two of them walked inside town, earning a few looks from the locals—for not having seen them before.

This kind of attention sometimes doesn’t sit well with a lot of people. To the naked eye, (y/n) and John, who went by Riley and John, seemed harmless and almost invisible. But, to a crowd that wanted trouble, they seemed like targets. She caught sight of a nasty crowd of men, standing aside and drinking in public, which was quite odd since there was a saloon not too far from where they stood. The men seemed like the type to hit on women that passed them by, making people uncomfortable was what sat well with these folk. 

However, what pissed her off even more was the fact that they choose to drink and cause a fuss in the middle of the day, when no one really expected shit like this to go down.

Her hand flew to John’s wrist, which John only shrugged violently before spitting on the ground in haste.

“I don’t need yer help, lady!” John was a bit too loud, causing her eyes to widen and the other bunch of men to listen.

“You need ta’ stay the hell away from me!”

(y/n) tried once more to pull John away, now noticing the men approaching them, laughing and chortling on their own. John once again pulled back, now stepping back in retaliation, before his back collided with one of the men. There were three in total, but was enough to cause a distraction. She really didn’t need this right now.

John gasped before the man grabbed his collar from the back, and yanked him aside, forcing John to stand straight and put an arm over his shoulder.

“Ya heard the little man, lady,” the man mimicked John’s insult. “Leave ‘im alone.”

The men behind him laughed, but John wasn’t. A sudden rush of adrenaline hit the boy, and she had hoped that the situation wouldn’t escalate. Another man approached her before grabbing her collar.

“Why’s a mangy mutt like yerself in our town?”

“Yeah, never seen ‘em before.” Another one joined in.

John struggled, in the meanwhile, knowing (y/n) couldn’t talk back. However, when she didn’t reply, the man holding her collar, punched her squarely in the face. John froze before seeing (y/n) fall to the ground, blood coming out of her mouth. If there was any bit of anger that was in him, it went away as he watched her get back up and plead for John to be released.

“Ya can’t talk or somethin’?” The man who punched her mocked.

“Get away from ‘im, you bastards!” John screamed, before kicking the man’s foot, and running to (y/n).

“Let’s get outa’ here, Riley.” John sounded scared, but he didn’t want to seem like it.

However, that wasn’t the men’s plan. One of them grabbed John again, but before John felt the punch come, (y/n) had kicked the man’s shin and pushed him to the ground. Before a second thought, her fist went flying to the man who punched her, and hit him squarely below the jawline, shocking him, and using her other hand to hit him again, knocking him to the ground.

The third man who had held John, rushed forward, but she was too quick. She went behind the man and grabbed his hand before twisting it uncharacteristically, and kicking him behind the knee, knocking him down. She used her right hand and hit him hard on the nape of his neck, knocking him down as well.

She then turned, grabbed John’s hand and rushed back to the carriage. She knew now was her chance, and feeling terrible about not getting Mrs. Grimshaw’s things, (y/n) sat John down beside her and raced back to the camp. John, not having said a word the whole while, didn’t know what to say. He looked at (y/n)’s bleeding mouth and nose, bruised face, discolored and ugly from the punch that sent her to the ground, and turned away with shame. It was his fault. This had happened because he failed to cooperate.

There were always going to be terrible goons in the world. And he was saved by someone he had teased constantly for being a woman. John wouldn’t admit it, he had seen the bandages inside her tent one night, but had never told anyone. Perhaps, for saving his life that day, he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t apologize to Riley. He just wouldn’t aggravate the situation as he had earlier. It was not his call to make, whether Riley was a woman or not. Even if she was a woman, she had saved his life, knocking three men twice her size down to the ground. And if he had any self-respect, which John believed he had, he would not make her anymore uncomfortable than he already had.

When the two of them reached the tent empty handed, Mrs. Grimshaw wanted to yell. But, once her eyes fell on Riley’s bruised and bloody face and John having been untouched, she knew what had happened. Riley gave her a helpless smile, a smile that hurt him as he stretched his lip, Mrs. Grimshaw shushed him.

“John, be grateful.” Was all she said, before grabbing Riley’s scrawny wrist and leading him away to mend him.

Dutch and Hosea noticed Riley’s face and scolded John, demanding him to tell them both what had happened. John was quiet, and it was only after Arthur came and placed a comforting shoulder on the younger boy did John even begin to speak. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he dared not to let them fall.

“Riley helped me. There were these bastards,” John sniffed before continuing, “Drunk all of ‘em. He beat ‘em to the ground. He saved me from bein’ beaten too.”

His hands were clenched and John hated the position he was in.

“No girl coulda done that,” Dutch said, laughing.

Arthur noticed John’s expression. John wasn’t just feeling helpless, the boy was feeling regret. Regret for being bullied? Nah, Arthur thought before heading out of Dutch’s tent and looking at Mrs. Grimshaw mend Riley. He didn’t believe John’s words before, he knew that for sure. There was no reason for a woman to dress up like a man and go around asking to kill Colm o’Driscoll. If there was something, then there was something more than what Arthur could figure out on his own.

It was not his problem, he told himself in the end and let it go.

[toxicbuckys]

Drink It Away || Peter Parker

Prompt - Y/N is depressed due to personal problems and finds solace in alcohol instead of her boyfriend.

Warnings - angst, for once this fic will not be fluffy, swearing, fighting, mentions of alcoholism, strong depictions of abuse, lotta violence, reader has super strength, older!Peter, sad Wanda, and a slightly different take on Wanda’s powers. Also, this is gonna be super fucking long, fair warning. 

A/N: so like, I rewatched Jessica Jones and it gave me this idea. I also had a bit of trouble writing this cause I’m so used to writing fluff, but like that’s not gonna fuckin stop me so enjoy this shit... please?

not my gif

“You’re cut off. Go home, kid,” says the big burly bartender as he reaches forward and takes away the shot glass you held in her fingers making you grumble under your breath. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to get home? You took my goddamn keys and I’m hammered up the ass,” you slur in a drunken manner, leaning your head on the palm of your hand as you squint at the bartender that you had gotten to know so very well over the past month. 

“Don’t worry, Luke, I got it.”

You roll your eyes in bitter annoyance and sigh deeply at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you turn to face him and his expression of disappointment. 

“Babe, come to rescue me again?” You say sarcastically with a smirk on your sleep deprived face, your drunken voice cut through the silence of the almost empty bar.

Peter doesn’t respond, he takes you by the waist and holds you up as he leads you to the door. You would’ve pushed him away but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk on your own. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder as he grips your waist, firmly holding you up. 

The grip he held on your waist was tight and if it were in any other situation, you would’ve taken it as a sexual advancement and went for it, but in the past month your libido had dropped down to nothing. The fault of your own mistakes. 

It physically hurt Peter to see you this way, you used to be so full of life and now... you didn’t give a damn about life. 

Every time he had to drag you out of a bar he couldn’t help but face the memories that invaded his mind of the girl he fell in love with. The memory of the smile he hadn’t seen in so long, the way you laughed whenever he told a bad joke, he remembered everything about how you used to be and it hurt so goddamn much. 

You had passed out on his shoulder a few seconds after leaving the bar and all your weight shifted causing Peter to stumble slightly as he opened the door to the backseat of his car, lifting you in his arms he lays you down in the backseat.

During the drive back to the tower Peter started to think of ways to help you and your problem, he couldn’t bare your alcoholism any more and it was beginning to hurt those around you as much as it was hurting him. 

You used to be as close as sisters with Wanda, but it was just this morning that Wanda came up to Peter in tears crying about how much she wanted her best friend back. Wanda had woken up in a cold sweat that same morning from a nightmare about you, and she had been so terrified she broke down in tears. She desperately wanted her best friend back, but these days you didn’t speak to anyone.

Not even Peter. 

He opened the door to his and your shared bedroom being careful not to bump your head in the doorway as he carried you inside. In your sleep, you had managed to grasp an iron grip on Peter’s shirt as you buried your face in his chest. He gently laid you down on the mattress and softly pried your grip from his t-shirt, you subconsciously whimpered in your sleep when you no longer felt Peter’s body heat against you. 

He slowly raised the covers onto your sleeping frame and longingly brushed the hair out of your angelic face. He admired how peaceful you looked in your sleep, how you didn’t look like the alcoholic you had become but the girl you used to be. The girl Peter fell in love with. 

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he watched you, he didn’t know how to help you. Not when you wouldn’t talk to anyone and not when he didn’t know what it was that changed you. 

You never told anyone what had happened to you when you went to visit your family back home, and Wanda was too scared to ruin your relationship to check for herself. 

Begrudgingly, Peter stood from where he sat on the edge of the bed and moved the trashcan you guys kept in your room to the side of the bed just in case you woke up and needed to hurl. 

With one last look at his girl, Peter left the room. 

He quietly made his way down a couple hallways down to Wanda’s room where he knew she wasn’t sleeping. The two of them had developed a sort of bond in trying to help you, a bond strong enough to know that Wanda barely slept anymore. She stays up all hours of the night staring up at the ceiling, just thinking. 

Peter softly knocked on her door and waited for it to open. Soft footsteps and rustling were heard on the other side as Wanda got out of bed to open the door. 

“Hey, Peter,” she whispers wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Can I come in?”

She steps to the side and opens the door wider for him to come in, she closes the door behind him and waits for him to speak. 

“I need you to look in her head.”

She should’ve known this would come back eventually, she was the only one who could figure out what it was that messed you up so bad, but she couldn’t risk you getting angry at her for using her powers to invade the privacy of your mind. She had gotten in trouble a few times for getting into people’s minds without their permission, she remembered the one time she did it to you. You had gotten so mad that day that you didn’t speak to Wanda for a week, she wasn’t about to risk something like that now. 

“Absolutely not.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “Wanda, please.”

She shakes her head to decline once more, “I’m not doing that to her again, I can’t have her angry at me.”

“She’s already not talking to you, what more of a difference can it make?” Wanda stays silent and turns away from the boy, refusing to make eye contact.

”If you care about her, you’d do this. We need to help her but we can’t do that if we don’t know what screwed everything up in the first place,” he explains giving Wanda a pleading look, she blinks away tears that pricked at the corner of her eyes. Moments of silence pass, Wanda leans against the door softly crying to herself, not caring if Peter saw her. 

“I miss her,” she mutters, her voice brittle and weak.

“I miss her too.”

Wanda starts to remember what it was like to laugh with you, to be able to trust you with everything. She remembered how happy you used to be and it broke her heart at how easily something tore that apart. There was once a time that you would never let Wanda be unhappy, you never let Wanda doubt herself. And now all she does is think about how unhappy she is, she doesn’t do much else, and now she was tired of it. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Wanda sat on the edge of the bed gazing down at you, the girl she considered a sister, praying that once she did this you wouldn’t be mad at her. Wanda leaned forward, hovering her hands over your head and conjured her power. 

Red energy surrounded her hands as she finds a way into your mind, your dark and damaged mind. 

Wanda digs around in your memories until she finds the one of you going back home to visit your family. The moment she found the memory, she had already regretted it. 

.

It was your big sister’s birthday weekend and you were going home to celebrate with the family. You hadn’t seen them in so long and you were so excited that you were practically bouncing in your boots. You parked in the driveway of your childhood home and waved at your mother and sister whom waited for you on the porch of the house. 

Shutting off the engine, you reach over to the passenger's seat and take the neatly wrapped birthday present you had gotten for your sister in your hands. Tucking it under your arm you step out of the car and brace yourself for the oncoming bear hug from your big sister. 

“Y/N! I missed you, loser!” She exclaims happily, throwing her frail arms around you and squeezing you tightly in a loving embrace. 

You hand the present over to your mother who stood behind your sister and return the hug. 

“I missed you too, dork.”

The two of you pull away and your sister steps to the side to let your mother give you a hug, she embraces you and nuzzles her head in your shoulder. 

“I need to talk to you,” your mother whispers in your ear, softly enough that your grinning sister doesn’t hear. 

You pull back and give your mother a confused look but she ignores it and plasters a smile on her face before ushering the both of you inside the house where the rest of the family was waiting. 

Inside the house was chaos, it had been a while since the family was all together but it wasn’t everyday that someone survives cancer after being told that they wouldn’t. That someone was your sister who had made it to her 26th birthday. 

Your mother drops your present off in the living room and all but drags you to an empty bedroom. 

“Ma, what’s wrong?” You ask in worry catching sight of the terrified look on your mother’s face. 

“He escaped. He’s coming here,” she whispers to you in fear that someone might still hear her, you were taken back by her news. 

You took in the sight of your mother, her hands were shaking and a thin veil of sweat covered her forehead. She had no need to specify who the aforementioned man was because you already knew. 

It was your father. 

Your father was a cynical man who beat your mother half to death for most of your childhood, it was him that made you angry enough to discover a hidden ability you never knew you had. 

You were only six and your sister was twelve when your father had come home drunk one night, similar to all other nights. The two of you had been sleeping when you were both woken up by a woman’s screams and objects crashing coming from the kitchen. 

You got out of bed and looped your arm with your sister’s, going downstairs where your mother’s screams were getting louder. Both of you peeked inside the kitchen where your father stood seething mad over your sobbing mother, holding a broken beer bottle above his head. 

His head snapped to the doorway where your heads stuck out from behind the wall, he spots you and your sister. His anger turns away from your mother and switches it to you two. 

He grabs your sister by the waist and pushes her to the side, her head colliding harshly with the wall. He takes you by the arm and drags you back to the kitchen, your screaming and crying didn’t faze him. 

“Let me go!” Six year-old you screams struggling ineffectively against the man who you never technically considered your father. 

His grip on your tiny arm tightens and you cry in pain. You wield your arm back and form a tiny fist, your fist collides with his abdomen copying the move you had seen on the dozens of action movies your sister was obsessed with watching. 

Instead of the punch being ineffective, your father folds over in pain, dropping his hold on you. In surprise, you decide to hit him again, this time he flies back into a wall. Your ears catching the sound of bones cracking, you run over to him and continue to hit him. Your rage had blinded you and you couldn’t stop yourself until you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around you and pull you away from the unconscious man. 

That night, you discovered your super strength, and that night your father went away for good. 

Until now. 

“I protected you then and I’ll protect you now. I won’t let him touch you, I promise.”

You envelope your mother in a gentle hug, giving her time to breathe deep breaths. 

It was silent in the room for a few seconds when suddenly you hear gunshots coming from downstairs, your mother jumps and covers her mouth to stop herself from screaming. You tell her to stay inside the room as you dash down the stairs to where the shots had come from. 

Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest and desperately wanted to cry because you didn’t think you could face him, but you had to stay strong. 

For your mother. 

Down in the living room, a man holding an automatic gun shoots down your family. A man you didn’t recognize. 

“No!” You scream as you see your family members fall before your eyes. 

You didn’t stop to cry, your fist flew forward and struck the man down. You sent your foot to his head for good measure. 

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you collapse to your knees, letting out a choked sob at the sight of the people you were raised by and grew up with laying dead with bullets littering their bodies. You try your hardest not to scan the room as you bawl, but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

The walls were sprayed with spattered blood and stray bullets, and in your position you just wanted to curl up and die. 

That is, until you noticed someone missing. 

Your sister wasn’t among the bodies. 

The pieces began to connect in your head. You curse and sprint up the stairs into the room where you left your mother, but by the time you got there both your mother and sister were tied up with your father standing behind them pointing two separate guns at their heads. 

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath at the situation, your father smirks at you.

“Y/N, always the hero, aren’t you?” 

“If you hurt them I swear to god I’ll rip your goddamn head off!” You threaten but the look on his face doesn’t falter. 

“I’ll make you a deal, choose one to die and the other lives, and hurry before I lose my patience.”

The two women at gunpoint began screaming at you to let the other live, but even through all the screaming and crying they sounded muffled. You stood there for who know’s how long just trying to find a way to make it out with both of them alive. Your cheeks were wet with tears and flushed with fear.

Your worst nightmare had come true. 

“Time’s up.” 

The two shots rang in your ears, your scream muffled in your ears as you shot forward in his direction. 

Your hands wrapped tightly around his neck and didn’t let go. Using your strength you squeezed and pulled until finally, you made good on your promise. 

.

“Oh my god,” Wanda whispers using her hands to cover her face in both shame and disbelief, she stands from her spot on the bed and steps away from you and Peter. 

“What? What was it?” Peter asks in worry. 

Wanda’s answer was cut off by you waking up, screaming. 

You looked around frantically, searching for any danger you might be in. Your heart was racing crazily in your chest and your breathing was more hyperventilating at this point. 

Your eyes land on Wanda who was panicking to the side and a ferocious growl erupts from the back of your throat. 

“What the fuck did you do?” You yell in anger, you swing your legs to the side and get off the bed, storming over to your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have and-and...” Wanda stuttered, she was absolutely terrified. 

Not only had she just first handedly witnessed the worst moment of your life, but she had also witnessed you murdering your father in cold blood. Along with the fact that she had done the one thing you asked her not to do, she knew never to fear you just as you knew never to fear her. 

But right now, as she looked into your angry raging eyes she couldn’t help but wish she had never listened to Peter. 

“Y/N! It wasn’t her fault! I made her do it! I wanted to know what was going on with you and I made her do it,” Peter explains getting in between you and Wanda. 

Your anger turns to your boyfriend in a split second. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? You had no right to invade my privacy like that! If I wanted to tell you, I would’ve fucking told you, Peter!” You scream, you looked into his eyes and didn’t see a single sliver of regret. 

“I love you, I really do, but I really don’t give a damn. I had to spend this entire month dragging you out of bars, taking care of you, making sure you didn’t drink yourself to death! I actually give a crap about you and I deserve to know what the hell fucked you up so bad!” He yelled letting out a month’s worth of frustration, he didn’t mean for it to come out so angry and frustrated but it did and he couldn’t take it back. 

You paused, you stared at him for what felt like hours until a smirk makes its way to your tear stricken face. 

“You wanna know what fucked me up? You did all this shit cause you wanna fucking know?” You asked, your tone laced with what sounded like amusement but was actually venom.

Peter wanted to stay silent, he didn’t like the current look on your face. He wanted to take everything back, he wanted to take the last fifteen minutes back, but what’s done is done and he was one of the many people who couldn’t go back. 

“Yes,” he answered in a soft voice almost above a whisper, if you hadn’t been listening intently for his answer you almost wouldn’t have heard him. 

“I killed my father with my bare hands. I killed him right after he murdered my mother and sister right in front of me.” Your voice had cracked mid-sentence as the images began to invade your head again, your breath caught in your throat as you let out more tears. But these weren’t of anger. 

They were of you finally admitting to yourself that you had fucked up. 

“Fuck,” you cried. 

You would’ve collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Peter’s strong arms catching you, he and Wanda sat with you as you cried on the floor. 

“I-I promised my mom that nothing would happen to her, a-and she trusted me,” you began, holding tightly onto Peter’s shirt, “but he still shot her.”

“We know you’re hurting, but you can’t drink the pain away and expect us not to worry about you. Do you know how much we love you?” His voice had dropped down to a gentle loving tone, showing just how much he cared for you with every single word. 

You switched your teary gaze from your hands to his loving brown eyes, the same eyes you fell in love with. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin to apologize to Peter, then turn to Wanda with the same apologetic expression, “to the both of you, for all the pain of the past month.”

“It wasn’t your fault, your reaction was completely understandable. What you went through was traumatizing and we don’t blame you for how you handled it,” Wanda started giving you her famous heartwarming smile. 

“But now, we want you to know that you don’t have to handle it alone.”

Your eyes dart back down to your lap where you fiddled nervously with your fingers. 

“I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll start talking to you guys or professionals, whatever I need to do to get better because I can’t stand to see you guys looking at me the way you do,” you say turning your head to the side to face Peter who was also looking at you lovingly. 

He leans forward and captures your lips in a gentle, soft kiss. 

“Whatever brings back my girl.”

.

.

.

A/N: hope you liked this fic ! i worked really hard on it. i’d like you guys to know that i am working on a part two to Nerds and it should be up sometime this week or next week depending on how distracted i get with my personal life. thanks !! <3333