#to hear their pain and listen to their cries— I still don’t sleep well at night. I hear them all the time.

[nc-vb]

if it’s gotten to the fucking point that the Ministry of Education has to announce that “the school year is cancelled” for part of Gaza because all its students have been murdered, humanity has failed, failed at everything— flat out, point blank, and unequivocally failed.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Spawn Host

Eddie Brock x GN! Pregnant Reader

Summary: Carrying Eddie’s baby was one thing, but Venom using it has its spawn's host was other.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Alien host, Angst, Optional Fluff

Cuddled up in Eddie’s warm arms was the best part of the mornings—not the hot drink after a cold night, not even getting your cravings, just Eddie’s arms and his warm breath in the nook of your neck sending warm waves down your back. Hearing Venom’s purring was a plus; at times he would say things about how your baby was doing, but this morning nothing. "Good morning," Eddie’s hoarse voice whispers into your ear, making you smile.

"Morning" quickly grabbed his hand and put it on your stomach as the baby’s morning kicks came in. "Oh, good morning to you too," he said, moving down to your stomach and giving you a kiss with a foot meeting in the middle.

He laughs but Venom’s voice still hadn’t come out. "Where’s Venom?" You ask if you weren’t just dating Eddie after finding out that Venom was in Eddie and getting closer, rather than wanting ‘I love you’ to make things click.

"He’s there and hungry." He moves from the bed to the door and says, "We are too." You yell from the bed; you can’t get up from it. It was a long nine months. Eddie didn’t have to worry that you would overwork yourself; you could even move at times.

Finally, you got off the bed and waddled to the kitchen, hearing Eddie and Venom bickering. "Soon I said," Eddie said, having the pan, while Venom looked at him. "Soon what?" He looked at you as if you had popped out of nowhere. "Um, just when you're having the baby." He looked away. "Yeah, if Eddie makes a banger breakfast, I just might." You joked, but Venom seemed to take it literally, using his arms to move the pans to get the cups and plates.

"Wow! Venom!" Both of you said, making Venom stop and go inside, "I was joking, Vennie." You finally said, "What is up with you?" Eddie says he's taking them both into the bedroom and leaving you with a half-cooked breakfast. You finish it up listening to Eddie’s and Venom’s muffed voices yelling before bursting out and seeing Eddie's panicked face. "Venom needs to eat," he says, placing a hand on your stomach and kissing you before walking out the door.

Night came fast, and not wanting to sleep alone, you waited on the couch, watching TV. The news had nothing on them, so that was good, you thought, but it made you worry more. Finally, your eyes were giving out, but the jingle of keys made you jump. Looking at the door, Eddie’s face came into view.

He looked in shock. His eyes didn’t meet yours; all he could look at was your stomach. "Eddie, where were you? I mean, I get Venom-" "Don’t say his name, he-" was all Eddie said before getting a beer from the fridge. "Talk Eddie." You had enough of both of them making you worry sick, and now Eddie wasn’t on good terms with Venom.

"He used us," Eddie whispered. "What?" Your voice pitched, "He had to make a spawn at least once in his lifetime, and he..." Eddie chocked up. "He used our baby as his spawn’s host." Finally, Eddie started to cry. "What does that mean? Is the baby going to-" You started to cry too. "Sorry," Venom whispers to you while hugging Eddie. "We don’t know what’s going to happen," Eddie whimpers. You had nothing to say, not wanting to blame Venom for wanting his spawn to live.

-

(Happy Birth Optional)

Looking down at your sleeping bundle of soft skin and chubby cheeks. "They’re perfect." Eddie whispered next to you, It had only been minutes ago that the room was filled with yelling, but as soon as the cries of your child came, everything came to a halt. Anne was next to you; she did well guiding you through the pain, but now she is at Dan’s side as he cleans you up.

Dan insisted on you going to the hospital, but under the circumstances, there was no way, so Dan agreed to do the delivery at your shared apartment. Here you are with the little family you made with your boy's help, of course. "Normal so far," Eddie says to himself, You softly hit his arm, and he laughed. Venom shows himself after a week of hearing the news of what he did. You never woke up without him apologizing, but that got sour quickly.

Now here you are waiting for the famous word, but he purred, looking down at the baby, "Ours." Realizing his words, you smile, a feeling swirling in your chest making you want to cry.

"Our little family," you say before kissing both of their cheeks and the top of your little bundle of joy’s head, cooing, making you three look at the little one warm against your chest, their eyes open, looking only for a second.

"They have your nose," you say to Eddie, making him smile, then booing their nose, having your first family moment. Venom didn’t want to interrupt, but you turned to him and asked, "How are they doing? Your spawn" He looked shocked at your question. "They're perfect, thank you." He sounded as if he were going to cry, but looking back at Eddie, tears stained his face. Just perfect.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - six

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, blood, gore, fighting and war canon level violence, detailed emotional description of torture. Reader is tortured but the description is more focused on her emotional state rather than the physical actions. The king makes an appearance so that’s a whole warning in itself.

One | two | three | four | five

A/n: I did things a little differently for the final part and the last half of this is in Azriel’s pov. It’s marked with his name as the heading so it’s clear when it switches!

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @dr4g0ngirl @sidthedollface2 @p4ndawrites

Time stands still.

The minutes cease to pass and the hours come to a halt.

The light of day fails to pass through the barred windows, blanketing this cell in darkness.

The places shadows may have danced are nothing but voids of that same darkness.

Night and day bleed together with no marker of the passage of time that occurs.

Food comes at irregular times to prevent me from gaining a sense of time.

Time stands still after what feels like a millennia of isolation and solitude.

The King made his presence within hours of Azriel and I drifting to sleep. He called for me from the war camp and beckoned me to him as he waited for me with a cruel smile. Taunting words and terrifying threats were thrown at me but none shook me to my corner than the sight of seven Ravens converging upon the tent where Azriel slept. Whatever magic the king had used to hide himself from us extended to his warriors, rendering Azriel defenseless as he slept completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around him. The bond begged me to wake him, warn him at all but I pushed it down and forced it to be silent as I faced the king. Any attempt to wake my sleeping mate would ultimately lead to his brutal torture and death.

The king glowered at me as he watched me try to scramble a plan together but seemingly to no avail. The shadows that had bound me the night before followed me and anxiously waited for me to give them a command in the treeline behind me. As the king told me of his plans to take Prythian by siege, I sent the shadows away and told them to hide until we left. They cried and writhed from their place in the trees but didn’t rush towards me.

“Tell him that everything will be okay. Tell him to not worry about me. Tell him everything you hear now and take him back to Velaris. Make sure that Rhysand gets the information he needs and keep Azriel safe. Do not let him come for me; matter what he does or says, do not let him come for me,” I’d whispered to the distressed creatures and they listened. Their cries of agony and anguish could be heard for miles but they listened to me and did not find their singer until the King took me back to Hybern.

Now it is here in Hybern that I’m facing the consequences of my actions; the effects of allowing myself to feel anything other than suffering. With my arms held up by chains and my wings outstretched in a painful way, having been bolted to the ceiling above, I'm forced to kneel on the unforgiving stone floor of my cell. Whatever blood that coursed through my veins seems to become solid as it has stopped leaking from my wounds. My breathing is so swallow and soft that anyone passing by would assume that my body was left up as a warning to all other prisoners.

However those who know better, those who know what other signs of life to watch for, don’t dare to come any closer to me, the beast of his own making.

A male appears at the entrance of the cell with a disgusted look on her pale features. Moving as he is one with the air, he flicks his wrist and the gates unlock before he steps into the cell. The smell makes him wrinkle his nose and hold his head higher to block out any stench. As if you escape the stench of death and blood in a place like this.

I'm at the center of the room, unmoving but chuckle lightly when I sense that he’s near.

“Come to torture me some more?” I ask.

The King of Hybern sneers at me for speaking to him and with another flick of his wrist, I groan out in pain. My body tenses from the pain that was inflicted upon it but aside from the low groan, I make no other indication that his actions harmed me.

“I need answers.”

“Ask and I’ll decide if I’m feeling generous today.”

He stalks around me, ducking under my massive wings, dragging a sharp blade nail down the sensitive and aching muscles. Once again I can’t react even though we both know that the pain threatens to take my consciousness.

“That little Shadowsinger has ruined you,” he sneers again as he finishes his predatory circles and kneels down to get a better look at my face. “He’s made you think that you have any value outside of being my little spy.”

I lift my head only enough to lock eyes with him, my irises flickering with rebellion and hatred as I speak, “I’m not your spy anymore. I haven’t been for years now otherwise you wouldn’t be pulling risky moves trying to one up a pompous High Lord and his band of friends.”

The king cuts me off with a dagger through one of my wings but I only howl out in laughter, throwing my head back to fully reveal my face to the guards at the entrance. They shrink back when they see my face covered in dirt and caked in blood. My features are severe and sharp thanks to the thick layer of filth but achingly beautiful nonetheless. Arched brows raise at the King’s frustration and a laugh ghosts on my lips. My flaming eyes never leave his as I smirk at the attempt to hurt me and gather information.

“Do not speak to me like I’m some foul beast.”

My voice is harsh but soft, calm but chaotic, dark but light as I speak, “The only foul thing that I know of is you, the Failed King of Hybern. Or do you simply prefer your highness now? I’m not privy to the gossip of the world anymore.”

The King pulls a face of coldness and stone the moment I start speaking again but it falters at the last name that I call him. His eyes flicker with disgust as he poses his own question, “Who are you to demean and belittle me for my actions? Have you forgotten that you were…”

A smirk widens across my face as I cut him off, “There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the male you truly are. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love.”

Death hadn’t been a sweet release from the torment I lived through under the King’s violent rule nor in the arms of a male I thought I loved more than myself. Instead I spent years in limbo on my island, never fully dying but never fully living. The only reprieve I’ve found in it all is the fact that I can’t feel the bond to the king anymore. There is nothing where that jagged line used to be and it’s been silent in my head where he used to torment me day in and day out.

However it’s rather short lived.

Now as I’ve been brought back, life is proving to be just as painful as before. What little peace and joy I’d thought I’d found was destroyed when the king took me. I don’t know how long it’s been but I’ve felt nothing but my own suffering and Azriel’s through the bond. Every second of every day I feel his despair as he searches for me, tugging at our thread in attempts to reach me. I feel his disappointment and heartbreak when I don’t respond, when I can’t respond. Not a moment goes by in this cell where I don’t feel every single step he takes towards a complete downward spiral.

A downward spiral of my own is fast approaching as I awake to the sounds of battle surrounding me. Fallen warriors scream from their lethal wounds while monsters created by dark magic laugh as they devour all around them. A female’s earth shattering scream follows the sound of bones cracking. I snap my head to the side where I see Nesta holding a broken Cassian while the King looms over them. He turns to look where the Ravens deposited me in a heap of torn flesh and weeping wounds.

“Come,” he beckons to me and I feel the sharp teeth of his naga hounds sink into my wings and drag me towards him.

Nesta’s eyes are wide with panic as she looks between Cassian and me but she hardens her face and stares at the king.

The hounds halt with a jarring tear to my wings and I let out a shaky cry. One comes to stand before me, holding eye contact with me as it just stands there. I have half a mind to tug on my bun but something tells me that it wouldn’t work. The hound lets its jaw drop as a deathlike scream rips from it and through the still tense air around us.

The call of inevitable death.

This is the long awaited end that I thought would never come and I can’t help but welcome it.

I’m tired.

So tired.

There is only so much of myself I could’ve given and I reached my limit the day that the king left me on that island. I reached that limit years ago and now I welcome the release even if by the jaws of a naganound. What a sweet release it would be to allow myself this one peace, a peace that no one can take from me now.

The hound shutters while several more start to circle me. I can feel their eyes boring into me, begging their master to give them the command so they can attack finally. They grunt and growl at me. Their unspoken message is the same as the one that sings from my heart:

Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you.

I don’t see the king give the command until they descend upon me like starving wolves who haven’t eaten a good meal in months.

I barely feel their teeth or their claws as they rip and tear at my body. Like true servants of the king, they attack my wings first and shred at the membranous limbs. My vision becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from my back and threatens to crush me but I don’t move. My pulse races even though I tell it to calm down. It’s half panicked, half confused but knowing all the same. I can’t stop this.

Nesta and Cassian can’t help either. Azriel…

Sweet sweet Azriel.

He is nowhere to be seen and I thank whatever gods and goddess that are listening that he isn’t here.

My ears fill with the sounds of tearing flesh and the squelch of blood while an endless sleep begs for me to close my eyes. My head feels light, everything around me starting to spin and darken. A feeling of nausea creeps up as the coppery smell of my blood invades my nose.

I let them tear my wings from my body no matter how much pain it brings me. I had loved them, cared for them, and protected them my entire life. They’ve been my prized possession for so long, a symbol of the strength that I’ve created and wielded. A symbol of my strength and mine alone. I hated them at first because of who wanted to take advantage of them but as I learned to exist with them, I learned to carry them with pride. I never forgot that it was my wings that landed me in the clutches of the king but there is a dignity in creating good out of evil and I had done that with them. I had created good with these wings no matter how evil others wanted them to be.

A weight is dropped from my back and I hear two thuds in the mud around me. The nagahounds stop their assault on me once my wings hit the ground and move their attention to them. Every breath I take, albeit ragged and shallow, sends waves of throbbing pain through my back and chest. It’s exhausting and I feel truly sick as I watch them play with my wings like they’re toys. Sweat is pouring from my forehead, my hands are clammy and trembling and my teeth are gritted. For a second I consider listening to my body which is telling me to let go, to give up and fall in the arms of that endless sleep. I take a deep breath, then another and then another. It becomes harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices soothing me to sleep.

So I stop fighting it and allow it to take me.

A state of calm returns to my mind and a warmth washes over me. I drop my head into the mud and it threatens to drown me but my inner peace won’t let me care. With hooded eyes, I stare as the nagahounds continue to tear my wings apart.

I feel nothing.

After what seems like forever, I hear the muffled sounds of those deathlike screams and someone calling my name. The voice calling my name begs for me to keep my eyes open and stay with them.

It’s useless to call me back from the brink of death but this voice does it nonetheless. Strong arms lift me and I’m cradled against an equally strong and blazing warm chest. A gentle wave of cedar and chilled mist scent washes over me as I let my heavy head rest between their jaw and shoulder. Whispered gilded words of reassurance take the place of the sounds of my wing’s destruction. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself find another peace in the embrace of these familiar arms. I barely feel us winnow from the battlefield before everything fades to black.

Azriel

What the fuck did that bastard do?

What could have possessed him to do this to her? To my mate?

Her rapidly cooling forehead against my neck feels like a blade slicing through my skin and it takes everything in me to not winnow back to the battlefield and slaughter the king.

Her breathing is slow, too slow and her pulse is so weak. Fear grips my insides as I winnow us into the Town House. I almost crumble to my knees when I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of my home and it gently whispers to me “you’re safe. Rest easy now.”

“Madja!” I shout into the air, hoping that the healer remained here. Madja peaks her head out of the sitting room and curses under her breath before disappearing back into the sitting room.

“Azriel,” she calls appears at the doorway, waving me in. As soon as I enter the room, she orders me to set y/n face down on one of the couches and hands me a pair of scissors to cut away the rest of her shirt. The scissors tremble in my hand as I gingerly cut at the bloody fabric and expose the mess of torn flesh and muscle. The healer glances at my shaking hands and puts hers on them, stopping them for a moment. Gentle brown eyes watch my chest rise and fall rapidly and her brows furrow even more.

“If this is too much, I can call someone else,” she tells me in her ever soothing tone.

I shake my head, strands of hair falling into my and add to the wild look I no doubt have about me. She doesn’t seem to want me there anymore but she permits me to stay and takes the scissors.

“Fetch me a basin with fresh water and a cloth please.”

She’s giving me a task so I don’t become frozen in shock. It fails the moment my hands are emptied. With nothing to ground me to this reality, all I can do is stand there and stare at y/n’s back where her wings once stood tall and proud. Her usual comforting cent is fading around us. Her aura is cooling. Her breathing is even slower. Her pulse is too weak for me to hear.

It’s all fading.

She is fading.

Madja gives the task to the town house instead and instructs me to sit. A chair appears behind me and with a flick of her wrist, she urges me to sit. I do. Fall more like it though.

I’d been cutting down several Ravens when I felt her side of the bond awaken again. The wall that had been separating us for weeks now came crumbling down and I was hit with every ounce of emotion that had been kept from me. Being hit with weeks worth of her suffering and yearning to be home nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d sent my shadows out to find her and within moments, I was on my knees in front of her with tears in my eyes.

Even alone Madja makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging the base of her torn wings. Once satisfied with her work, she moves on to the smaller but no less significant claw and teeth marks. My shadows nuzzle against me, making soft whining noise and distracting me from the wreckage of flesh before me. I drop my forearms to my thighs and let the shadows wrap themselves around me. Their embrace is the closest to a hug they can give me but I’ll take it.

“Is she alive?” I find myself asking before I realize it.

Madja looks at me with raised brows, “You can hear her heartbeat can’t you?”

I barely spare her a glance from beneath my lashes.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

I can hear it. It’s faint but I can hear it.

“Azriel,” Madja starts, “she’s lost a lot of blood. Her wings were quite literally torn from her body, there’s no telling the true extent of her injuries just yet.”

I lift my head with tears pricking my eyes and her tone softens. “But she’s alive. She will have a lengthy recovery ahead of her but she’s alive and most importantly she has you to thank for that.”

My jaw tightens and I bring a hand to rub at the taunt muscles. Flicks of blood paint the tan skin of my hand but I ignore them.

“I didn’t do anything. I let her be taken and held prisoner for weeks.”

Madja sighs and stills for a moment. She simply stares down at the unconscious Fae on the couch. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it and you know that. Do not commend yourself for things that you had no control over.”

A small gasp muffled by couch cushions draws all of our attention as she dips down to look at y/n’s face.

“Easy,” Madja mutters to her as she places a soft hand on the back of her head, “don’t try to move or you’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in Velaris and safe now.”

My shadows skitter around me and beg to go to my mate. I don’t let them and wait for Madja’s signal. She asks her if she would like to go to her room and there’s a weak but clear reply.

“Where is Azriel?”

Madja’s brown eyes flicker to me and she nods so I stand and walk on unsure legs to kneel before y/n. Even through the dirt and blood, this female is beautiful beyond compare and she’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars just for her.

“Azriel,” she whispers as tears start to fall and tentatively reaches a hand out to touch my face. It causes her a great deal of pain and she winces before dropping it and settling on grabbing my hand instead.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” I find myself repeating over and over again as I brush back her hair and squeeze her hand so tightly it might break.

She smiles at me in a way that completes me but also destroys me. I let all of this happen to her and yet she’s still happy to see me. “It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “You couldn’t have stopped me and I didn’t want you to.”

I want to ask her how it all happened, how did the king manage to take her that morning at the war camp but I can’t find the words. None of it seems to matter now that she’s here and he’s gone.

“Is he..is he dead?” She asks in that small, broken voice.

I nod and the sobs finally break free from her. Against my better judgment as well as Madja’s, I help her to sit up and pull her into my arms, careful to not touch her wounds. I guide her into my chest with a hand in her hair and another around her waist, gripping her thigh as she clings to me and sobs. Relief washes over me both my own and through the bond. My cheek comes to rest on her head as she hides her face in between my collar and jaw.

I’ve come to realize that in all of my 500 years, I’ve never known comfort and safety like I do now. Quite frankly I don’t know much at all but none of that matters when my mate, my sweet girl, my y/n is in my arms.

[rukia-writes]

hi rukia!!

I hope you're having a good day/night :) if it's not too much trouble I want to ask poseidon x goddess reader, how would he act if they had twin sons (just like poseidon) who don't let him spend time alone with the reader and they always want their mother's attention :) (with smut at the end if you want?) thanks in advance, and sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or something was not my intention :) ps: your writing is amazing you are definitely one of my writers favorites :) take care of yourself.

I ran with this 🏃🏼‍♀️

Warnings: fluff at first, 18+, no minors 🔞 , throne room sex, a dabble of touch starved Poseidon, Poseidon discovers he has a lactation kink,

Attention.

The tyrant of the oceans was quietly reading a book in his room, waiting for his wife to come join him after putting their twin sons to sleep. Poseidon, didn’t mind that his wife gave their sons all the attention but sometimes he wished she would spend more time with him as the twins constantly wanted their mother’s attention and alone time was rare.

A nanny was brought up by Poseidon, but was shot down by his wife.

“I want to spend as much time as I can with my babies.”

Poseidon remembered her words and while he honored them he still thought getting a nanny was a good. Once an hour has passed Poseidon closed his book and made his way to their sons bedroom to find all three asleep. The twins were sleeping peacefully on their mother’s lap as (Name) was sitting on the couch they had, the sight was adorable but Poseidon decided to leave them. Not risking waking the small ones Poseidon turned the lights off and closed the door returning to his bedroom alone.

In the morning, it was always the same the twins liked to ride their small cars. Rather, (Name) had to push them constantly. Poseidon found his sons smiles rather cute but he just wanted some alone time with his wife. As if on cue, one of the twins had accidentally crashed into their dining room table hurting his head a bit. Rushing over (Name) comforted her small and young son who was crying with his brother gently patting his brother’s back saying “Pain, pain go away.” Which (Name) thought was adorable while Poseidon watched as his son ended his crying and rubbed his face on her chest to wipe his tears away.

Poseidon noted that.

Finally, the day arrived and there was an uproar in Poseidon’s castle as Hermes struggled to contain the twins in his arms. Zeus wanted to spend sometime with his nephews followed by Hades and the twins just wanted to stay home with their mother. Hermes tried to convince they would have fun but the twins wouldn’t hear it until Poseidon told the two simply “Behave yourselves. Stop your crying.” Both twins quickly stifled their crying and changed their tone as they waved bye to their mother and father.

When Poseidon, their father, was involved they seemed to be well behaved and listened more than they did with their mother. Night fell, and Zeus’ was in chaos as the twins couldn’t get a hold of their mother and we’re constantly crying. Zeus covered his ears and wanted anyone to stop their crying. As if on cue Hades had arrived and was the one to silence their cries with toys.

Lots of toys.

“Damn it, they’re spoiled enough!”

“So were you, don’t be a spoiled sport.”

Hermes noticed their crying had ceased completely as their attention was on their toys that Hades bought them. One was a rocket a launcher and accidentally pressing the button flew right into Ares’ eye as he had just arrived, watching Ares cry out in pain the twins apologized while stifling their laughter. Hades told the two boys they could also wrestle with Ares as he was the strongest in Valhalla. The twins took out their fake spears and chased Ares around the palace, Hermes noticed the twins were fast like their father.

“I wonder why (Name) didn’t answer our call.”

“She’s probably resting, I know I certainly would. Twins are a handful.”

“So true..but they are so cute. Just like Poseidon when he was younger.”

Hades took several pictures with his phone of the twins chasing after Ares, no one bothered to help Ares until Hercules showed up and the twins were preoccupied with Hercules lifting the twins with just his huge arms while they clung to them . Ares was eternally grateful to Hercules as was Zeus for being able to handle the twins. That’s what Zeus called them from that day forward as well, not their names just called them “the twins”.

There was a reason (Name) wasn’t able to accept Hermes call and that was because Poseidon finally received the attention he wanted as he had her sitting on his lap facing him as he rubbed her breasts while licking and teasing her nipples with his tongue as she moaned a loud in Poseidon’s throne room as she lightly pulled his beautiful blonde hair. Poseidon knew her nipples were sensitive still and he didn’t hesitate to cease the moment, he also loved the feel of her breasts as he rubbed them gently at first but the longer he did so the rougher he became.

Poseidon was fond of his beloved’s nipples as he would switch from right to left whenever he felt like it, he also teased her nipple with his free hand and played with her breast that he wasn’t tasting at the moment. (Name) tried to tell Poseidon that she was still sensitive but Poseidon didn’t acknowledge her in the slightest except for when a delightful moan escaped her lips and made his ears perk a bit at the beautiful sound.

However, not heeding (Name)’s constant warning Poseidon tasted her breasts milk for the first time, surprising both Poseidon and (Name). Even when (Name) tried to pull away Poseidon kept her in place as he kept licking and sucking her nipples for more as (Name) couldn’t handle anymore and reached her orgasm before Poseidon. Chuckling Poseidon gave one final slow lick to (Name)’s nipple before telling her that “The night is still young and we are far from finished.”

From that day on Poseidon and his queen were a constant heat for one another, Poseidon newfound kink had (Name) on her back for hours as he enjoyed the taste of her milk while nearly fucking her into the mattress of course. Sometimes, Poseidon would slip up and say how he wanted another child just so he could pump his cum into her sweet cunt while draining the milk from her breasts.

It was a constant cycle of Poseidon fucking his wife on their bed and licking the milk afterwards. A constant cycle of fucking and licking, any position that allowed him to see her breasts and watching them bounce to the rhythm of his fucking was perfection to Poseidon. The feel her cunt was amazing to him as he knew her g-spot like the back of his hand as his cock would hit it constantly.

Sometimes, (Name) swore she heard Poseidon mutter “Mine” sometimes but she was too busy feeling the ecstasy of Poseidon’s fucking to catch it.

Once, the twins returned after being gone for two weeks Poseidon calmly told them that they would be spending more time with him from now and that “Mother needs to rest for a few days.” The twins didn’t complain as they constantly followed their father about and Poseidon didn’t seem to mind as he got his quality time with his sons.

But Poseidon knew on the horizon there would be another child joining them soon, it was only a matter of time and when the time came Poseidon wanted more milk…

Just for him and him alone.

🎀Rukia-Writes🎀

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 26: THE ARTICLE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

After you picked up the paper and read through the short-winded article, you could not help but feel nauseous again.

Seeing Cillian kiss his assistant like this made you sick, and you quickly realised that you were not wrong when you got a bad vibe from Kit, making you uncomfortable.

You also wondered whether, during your short-lived relationship with Cillian, he engaged in anything intimate with her. That would not have surprised you, considering that Kit had always had it out for him.

Kit clearly loved the attention as Cillian was not the first actor she was dating and you were curious as to what made her an excellent personal assistant for him. Was she more than that, even when he was married to Danielle? You were unsure and you knew that you should not care.

He had ended it with you and yet, you felt appalled and disgusted by his actions.

Filled with pain medication making you not think relatively straight, you picked up your phone and sent Cillian a photo of the article you read with the note saying “I am disgusted, but not surprised”, immediately following which Cillian called you.

“What is that supposed to mean? You are disgusted, but not surprised?” he asked, seeing that the article had made you upset as, even now, on the phone with him, you were crying.

“It means that I was right. There was always something about her, but you brushed it off when I mentioned it” you told him in a teary voice, causing Cillian to sigh but not answer.

“Did you sleep with her?” you asked after his long silent pause, knowing this was none of your business.

“What does it matter?” Cillian asked almost defensively, causing you to take in a deep breath.

“I will just take this as a yes,” you told him before allowing yourself to curse loudly so that everyone in the room could hear you. “Fuck, Cillian. Why?” you asked but, again, knew that he did not owe you any explanation.

“Because I have been trying to get you out of my fucking head Y/N” Cillian explained with much emotion in his voice but, of course, this made no sense to you whatsoever.

“So, it is my fault that you slept with your assistant?” you chuckled in disbelief, resulting in Cillian backtracking.

“Listen Y/N, I don’t have to explain myself to you. I slept with Kit, yes, but none of this is any of your business. We are not together anymore” Cillian told you and you could not help but ask him whether he had slept with her in the past as well, namely when you were dating each other.

“Of course not. Why would you even ask that?” he wondered and, again, you stated that she had always shown an interest in him, which was something he clearly was too blind to see.

“Okay. Well, at least I know that you have moved on, so that is good for you” you then told Cillian with some sadness in your voice and he asked you again whether it was still all right for him to bring Nina in to see you to which, of course, you agreed.

“Yes, sure. Just, please don’t come in with her. I cannot see you right now because, if I do, I might say something wrong, which would not be fair to Nina. She doesn’t need to know about any of this” you explained to Cillian as tears continued to stream down your face.

“Say something wrong? Like what?” Cillian asked, oblivious to the fact that you were hurting.

“Fuck Cillian, two weeks ago you told me that you loved me. Then you take it all back because of my age. Now I am in the hospital and find out you fucked your PA. How do you think this makes me feel, huh?” you cried before telling him that you were still upset after what happened and that him sleeping with Kit was your final straw. There was no coming back from this and you told him you were hurt by his actions which made Cillian gasp for air.

“All right. I will wait outside. I am sorry” he barely managed to say which is when you hung up on him and he started to curse.

Dropping back into his seat, Cillian sighed as tears in the corner of his eyes began to build up again, this time from knowing how much he had indeed hurt you. It had been two weeks since you parted ways and he never expected to find himself in a situation where he could not cope.

He knew very well that, over the past two weeks, he had been acting destructively and this included the fact that he had slept with his assistant Kit which, if it were not for his heartache and pain, he would not have done.

He regretted it and now, his mistake was already haunting him as even his daughter and ex-wife had brought up the article this afternoon.

Explaining the situation to Nina was, of course, almost worse than explaining the situation to you, and what Cillian did not know was that his daughter had grown to like you much more than she should have.

She also knew much more than she should have and, seeing her father upset, did not bother her much as, in Nina’s mind, it served him right.

“Are you and Kit a thing now?” she asked, before revealing to him that she would not like him to date a woman like Kit who, to this date, had always been a throne in her mother’s eye.

“No, we are not a thing. We just fooled around and it was stupid. I made a mistake” Cillian admitted carefully, trying to gauge the situation. He did not want to upset his daughter and had to be mindful not to hurt her feelings.

“Well, I suppose you are old enough to make your own decisions and certainly not too old to make mistakes, so I guess that’s fair,” Nina said wisely, knowing that her father was feeling bad about what happened. It was evident from his voice and demur and this somehow concerned her.

“I think we are never too old to make mistakes, Nina. In fact, I made many in recent weeks” Cillian admitted, referring to the fact that he had hurt you.

“Was breaking up with my dance teacher one of them?” Nina asked, catching her father by surprise, and causing his chin to drop. He wondered how she knew and why she had not said anything about it previously.

“What are you talking about?” he thus asked, again gauging the situation and, in the end, Cillian was surprised to learn that Nina knew along, ever since he started dating you.

“Come on Dad. I am not stupid” Nina told him, chuckling.

“No, seriously Nina, what are you talking about?” Cillian asked, still pretending that there had been nothing between you and him.

“I found some of her clothes with mine about a week ago when granny visited. She thought they were mine, from the dance academy, but I explained to her that they were not and placed them back in Y/N’s locker when I got to class. I don’t think she ever noticed. Also, the necklace with the Beatles quote she is wearing? It had to be from you. Only you are so weirdly romantic that it hurts” Nina laughed and, just as she explained to her father how she came to know about his relationship with you, he cursed.

“Fuck” he said, causing Nina to break out in even more laughter than before.

“Watch your language, Dad!” she lectured him and he admitted to her that he had, indeed, recently broken up with you.

“Yeah, breaking up with your dance teacher is one of the stupid things I have done Nina” Cillian told his daughter and, of course, she had questions.

“Did you not like her anymore?” she asked, wondering why her father had broken up with you.

“No, I still liked her very much but she is a little too young for me, sweetheart. It was not going to work” Cillian told his daughter who simply shrug her shoulders, knowing that she had to stay out of her father’s love life.

“All right. That’s your choice Dad” she thus said. “I can still like her though, right?” Nina then wondered.

“Of course. She is a wonderful person and there is no reason for you not to like her. Despite, she is your dance teacher and you love dancing, so who am I to get in the way of what makes you happy, hmm?” Cillian reassured Nina before hugging her and, since she was no longer into this kind of parental affection, she pulled away and told him it was time to head to the hospital.

***

An hour later, Nina and Cillian arrived with two books for you to read and a box of chocolates.

Seeing how upset you were earlier, Cillian remained outside, by the door while Nina walked in to see you, glancing back at her father with confusion.

“Dad? Are you coming?” she asked, but Cillian shook his head, telling Nina that one person at the time was enough. According to him, you still needed some rest.

Nina, of course, did not believe his reasoning and wondered whether the separation between you and her father was not on so amicable terms.

This, of course, was the case but both you and Cillian shielded his daughter from your disagreements with each other. This was the right thing to do and, since you liked Nina a lot, it was not very difficult either.

With that in mind, you hugged Nina and thanked her again for pretty much saving your life that day which was something that embarrassed her.

Like her father though, she did not like attention and thus quickly changed the topic.

Thus, you talked about dancing for a while and engaged in some jokes about life and a book you had both read before it came to your mind that you were sent a video of Nina’s recent solo by one of the other dance teachers.

“Can I see?” Nina asked and, of course, you showed it to her, not only once but twice, and, still, she criticised herself whereas you thought she did fantastically.

“Can Dad come in and see it?” Nina eventually asked and, even though you did not want to be anywhere near Cillian, you agreed, simply for her sake.

“Yes, of course” you thus said, pretending to be unbothered by Cillian’s presence as Nina called him inside.

“Y/N has a video from the training on Thursday which one of the other dancers took,” she told her father who, cautiously, approached you.

“Yes, come and have a look,” you told him, making him feel more comfortable.  “I was still in action then and Nina did amazing with the solo. She is showing so much emotion on stage now” you explained to Cillian who appeared to be very proud of his daughter as he watched the video.

“Can you send this to me so I can share it with Danielle?” he even asked and, of course, you nodded.

“Sure” you said before Cillian thanked you and told Nina that it was time to go, which was something she did not want to do.  She wanted to stay a bit longer and engage in conversation with you but her father was adamant that he had to go home as he had a meeting at six o’clock.

“A meeting with your assistant isn’t a meeting, Dad. She can work around you. Just tell her to come later” Nina told her father, knowing that Kit was supposed to come around to discuss the upcoming release of Oppenheimer and his interview schedule.

“I am sure Kit and your father have a lot of important things to discuss” you couldn’t help but say sarcastically before telling Nina that, if it was all right with her parents, she could return the following day for another visit.

“Okay Y/N. Take care” Nina told you before giving you yet another hug and, with that, Cillian and her left to go home and meet with his assistant.

***

At around 6 o’clock, Kit arrived at Cillian’s apartment and, as usual, she was punctual and on time.

As soon as she entered though, she attempted to give Cillian a kiss who quickly pulled away. He told her that his daughter was staying with him, as she already knew, which meant he could not interact with her this way.

Kit, of course, was disappointed, and even though Nina saw Kit’s attempt to kiss her father, she did not say anything, but disappeared in her room, smashing the door shut behind her.

“She seems angry” Kit pointed out before, finally, taking her chances. She pressed her lips onto his in haste and, again, Cillian pulled away.

“Kit, stop. This is not going to work” he told her, to which she sighed with frustration.

“Why? Because we work together?” she assumed, but this was not his reason.

“No, because I am not over Y/N and I don’t think I will be for quite some time. I love her and she...never mind…” Cillian stammered causing Kit to become angry.

“She just what?” Kit asked, trying to contain her emotions while pretending not to care about Cillian’s words.

“She saw the article in the paper, about us and she did not take lightly to it” Cillian explained, causing Kit to laugh.

“So what? You are not together anymore!” Kit pointed out, but Cillian remained firm.

“Still. She just had a miscarriage and I honestly need some time to digest all of this. Nina likes her and I miss her” Cillian explained before regretting telling Kit about your matters which, at this point, he did not know she would be using to her advantage soon.

“Fine. I mean, it was and would always be just sex Cillian. I can get that from someone else” Kit chuckled, telling Cillian not to worry about it.

“So, we are good?” Cillian asked, wanting to ensure that Kit could still be working for him as she had been an excellent assistant thus far.

“Of course, we are good. Let’s forget anything ever happened, okay?” Kit told him before diving right into Cillian’s work schedule.

“Okay, grand” Cillian confirmed with a smile, and without knowing that, later that night, Kit would take it upon herself to send an email to your place of work, using a fake email address.

“Dear Mr Beasly

I am writing to you as it has come to my attention recently that one of your dance teachers has engaged in intimate relations with one of the parents who, to this date, is still married.

Her name is Y/N Y/LN and the parent she got involved in is Nina Murphy’s father. Now, considering Mr Murphy’s status, I believe that this could and would reflect poorly on your establishment if their affair was to become known, especially since, recently, the said Miss Y/LN had undergone a pregnancy termination.

My suggestion would be to have Miss Y/LN resign on a favorable redundancy package, which includes the signing of a nondisclosure agreement.

Your sincerely;

A Concerned Parent”

[soulofapatrick]

Hypnotised - Derek Hale

Summary: You think your boyfriend Derek is dead but find out something more heartbreaking 

Words: 852

Warning: angst

Y/N’s POV 

"Y/N, you gotta keep going," Stiles scoots into the seat next to me, being the only one to truly see how much I'm struggling with Derek's death, "Derek wouldn't want you to be sad."

"But-"

"Y/N," He shushes me and pulls me into a tight hug that has me squeezing my eyes shut tightly to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. I can't cry here, on the coach back from the lacrosse trip and especially after last night in that creepy hotel, "Try get some sleep okay." I just nod into his shirt and let the exhaustion take over.

---------

Upon waking I find I'm in Stiles' jeep and we're outside the loft... Derek's loft. I know why I'm here but I don't think I can do it. Stiles stays quiet and I love that about my brother - he knows when I need him to comfort me and when I just need him to be a silent constant in my life. Now is a silent constant I need to get my thoughts together.

He eventually places a hand over mine, meeting my gaze with soft cognac eyes, "Okay, okay I'm going." I nod, "C-can you wait for me?"

"Of course." He squeezes my hand reassuringly before letting me get out.

The walk up the the loft feels like the longest walk I have ever done and I have to stop ever so often, wanting to turn around and run back down the stairs. After what feels like forever I'm standing in front of the door, shaking and the jaguar side of me becoming almost overwhelmed by the scent that is so... Derek.

The first thing I see is blood, lots of it. Then the bed and it's not empty. No. Derek's there, passed out and bandaged up and he's obviously not alone. A door opens somewhere in the loft and I can't stop the defensive hiss that leaves my throat as I lay eyes upon her... Jennifer Blake. She's wearing one of Derek's shirts and her trousers are thrown somewhere on the floor as all she's in is Derek's shirt.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" I shriek but before I can even think about lunging at the stupid bitch I'm being grabbed and dragged out of the loft by someone with a very familiar scent: motor oil, old books and coffee. Stiles.

"We're going home," He tells me as he manhandles me into the passenger side of the jeep, "Put your claws away!" He adds before shutting the door and climbing into the drivers side. I've seen Stiles angry but not this angry, especially when he speed dials Scott and starts practically screaming that has even me, a werejaguar, cowering in my seat.

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

I barely remember getting home and Stiles making me dinner as all I can see is Derek - my boyfriend - in bed with my English teacher. The evening blurs past with Stiles and Scott, who gets dragged over by a still fuming Stiles, doting over me. I think I remember one of them running me a bath and getting me into bed because I can't stop crying, finally understanding all those heartbreak songs. I cried myself to sleep and I know Scott could hear from downstairs.

----

I get woken a few hours later by the familiar slide of my window opening and closing  and suddenly my senses are filled with all things Derek. I whine into the scent but then again I don't know how to feel so I just roll away from the Alpha. He doesn't get to feel hurt yet the pain pheromones are all I can damn smell.

"Just... just listen okay Baby," The bed dips and a shaking hand is placed on my hip, pausing to see if I shake him off but I just can't bring myself too, "I really don't know what happened. Ever since you, Scott and Stiles called me in about the birds in the classroom and I met Jennifer... well, it's felt like I've been hypnotised in some way. Every action I've done has been me... but not me."

"Hypnotised?" I ask quietly, still facing the wall and keeping my eyes squeezed shut.

"Like Jennifer has had some spell on me. She kissed me and I did fight but..." He pauses, as if struggling for the right words, "It was as if my will was suddenly stripped from me. I didn't want anything from Jennifer." He tells me and I shuffle around a bit, unsure whether to believe him or not, "Y/N, I only want you."

"But they age gap and Jennifer's more your age and-"

"Y/N," He pushes me onto my back, climbing over me and holding my face in his hands so I have no choice but to look into his sunflower eyes as he speaks, punctuating every word, " I. Only. Want. You."

"Me?"

"I love you,"

"Love?"

"Yes, you."

I'm surging up, capturing his lips in a kiss and just relishing in the feel of Derek. He's mine and I'm not letting him go.

"You still have to face Stiles."

"Fuck."

[fanfictionalhooligan]

Oneshot: Dying in Husband!Haganezuka's arms〚WARNING: Severe angst and dark themes〛

This came from the following anonymous heacanon request:

"How would Hotaru react if his wife died in his arms? Or died in general? I love angst I devour angst."

For the art response, I will be repurposing drawings that ironically work well for this scenario under the right circumstances:

❖ - ❖ - Oneshot: Dying in Haganezuka's Arms - ❖ - ❖

“Out of my way –“

“Haganezuka-san, she’s in critical condition –“

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY! I’ll kill you!”

His voice was shrill and transforming into something unnatural at the words ‘critical condition’ and his eyes were wide with horror.

“Please, Haganezuka-san, it might be best for you not to be here right –“

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU – get out, NOW!”   

The Kakushi trying to block him from entering the room suddenly cried out in pain and recoiled, then stared down at the deep slash in his own arm in horrified disbelief. Haganezuka had struck a blow with his knife this time. No one had seen him actually do it before, despite so many instances of chasing Demon Slayers.  

The blade was dripping with blood as Haganezuka clenched the handle and marched forward; fear gripped the Kakushis around him like ice and they scurried away from him.

There she was.

His love. His Spring. The blossom that had emerged beneath the snow after a long, lonely winter. There she was - his wife, covered almost head to toe in blood-soaked bandages and IV lines hanging off of her like chains, laying silently and limply upon a cold hospital bed. Her gaze was dull and unfocused and anyone could tell that she was slipping away.

Haganezuka’s blood froze as he paced towards her, as if time had slowed for him to live every agonizing second of this hell. His arms dangled limply at his sides; the knife clattered against the floor, splattering the blood from the Kakushi’s arm as well.

The sound stirred her awake as if she could recognize it in her sleep. She must have known that her husband was nearby if there were knives around. Her eyes opened, focusing just enough to take in the familiar sight of his face. She smiled softly. “Hotaru…”

Her voice was hardly audible, so small and feeble. Haganezuka desperately rushed forward and threw his arms around her, lifting her entire upper body from the bed. “Y-you’re alive…” he whispered, unable to accept that it could change any moment. “The battle’s over. The demons are gone. We can finally live in happiness – hey, are you listening?” His voice shook as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His gaze travelled down to her abdomen and the pool of blood that had soaked through it.

There was a stained, crimson-red pole in the corner of the room that had been removed; his face grew pale when it registered that she’d been impaled with it. A pole – a fucking stop sign pole. Of all the things –

“Hotaru,” she murmured, as if sensing that he was about to murder everyone in the room for letting this happen. “It was Muzan. He was…” her voice was faint and almost didn’t finish the sentence. “He…tried to run…we stopped him…buildings and streets were destroyed…”

Haganezuka’s entire body was trembling uncontrollably. She was far too calm. “I – I get it,” he replied. “You don’t have to explain…just…”

She gazed softly at him with a smile. There was something about that tender, glistening gaze that welled up his eyes with tears, and they began streaming down his face and dripping down quietly into her hair. “H-hey…” he began. “Don’t go. Don’t go, you hear me?”

His throat grew tight when she simply kept smiling at him.

“Come on – don’t go, my love. Please,” he begged her. “The battle’s over! The worst is over –“

“Hotaru…” she whispered, making him go completely still as he held her in his arms. “I…I was waiting for you. I wanted to see your face…”

One last time. That was what she meant.

She’d only been holding on long enough to be able to see his face for one last time.   

“I’m here,” he whispered feebly, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m here and I’ll stay by your side, okay? J-just stay with me, too, okay? Please!”

The Kakushis behind him somberly bowed their heads and quietly left the room.

Her eyes were glistening with tears, too. “Hotaru…I love you. I always will. Whether in this lifetime or the next. The sun will rise for us…”

The seconds were slipping away. “But you’re my sun, don’t you know that? If you d-don’t rise again, I can’t…”  Haganezuka’s voice finally broke into a sob when she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, so content to be in his arms with that beautiful, oh, so beautiful, fading smile of hers.

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her tight and his sobs making it almost impossible to speak. “Can you hear me, my love? I love you so much, and I wanted to show you that every day for the rest of our lives. I am the happiest man in the world when you’re there with me, and just… please…please stay.” He wanted her to hear every word, to keep listening, anything at all for just another moment with her.

Her eyes fluttered open just a crack, just barely enough for him to see the green of Spring before it faded back into the winter snow. “Hotaru…the rest of my life has already been the happiest because of you.” Haganezuka’s lower lip trembled as her voice grew quieter and quieter. “You’re here now…and I’m happy.” A single tear slipped out of her eye before it shut for the last time. “I only wish I had more time with you…and…”

She never finished the sentence.

Haganezuka went completely, utterly still. “Misaki?”

Silence. Only silence.

Dark, cold, hollow silence.

Her head rested limply against his chest. While her own had stopped rising and falling.

Haganezuka’s eyes widened and time froze, and the world around them felt like thousands of kilometers away. He slowly looked down and saw that the smile had never left her face – just because she was in his arms for her final sleep. It was at that moment, right then and there, that Haganezuka cried out and wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face into her hair, gripping her so tightly that the IV poles fell over as the lines were yanked.  The sobs wrenched through his body, choking uncontrollably and whispering her name now and then even though the sound of it from his own voice only made the tears multiply. Her body was shaking along with his as he cried.

She was gone.

And, after that, swords would be gone.

There were no demons left and they would likely be discarded like useless artifacts of the past.

Those two things, his beloved Spring blossom and his swords - all that had ever made any sense in his life - were taken from him. Just like that.

Haganezuka rested his chin against the top of her head, cradling her and rocking slowly back and forth as if she were simply sleeping and must not be disturbed. Somewhere inbetween his sobs, the glimmer of the knife on the ground next to him caught his eye. He grew still in the cold silence, his gaze suddenly fixated on the bloodstained blade and unable to look away.

Maybe…maybe she wasn’t that far away.

He slowly became possessed by the silence as he simply continued to sit there for hours, cradling his wife’s delicate body in his arms to make sure she could continue to sleep peacefully where she’d been happiest. He was allowed to mourn alone and undisturbed. No one noticed how far down the pit of silence that his demented eyes were staring.

Haganezuka reached towards the knife.

- End

❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖ - ❖

Are you okay? Because:

THIS IS NOT CANON EVEN FOR AN AU. NOPE. NOPE NOPE, NOT IN THIS HOOLIGAN’S WORLD. This is a “what if”and I cannot with this ending ever make it official. Consider it an AU of an AU for masochistic angst lovers xD

***To address the suicide implication: I was conflicted on whether it’s OOC for Haganezuka, with Demon Slayer being a lot about moving forward even when you lose everything. So in this case, I wanted to portray it more like he was at his darkest lowest point and having a moment of madness that someone else would need to pull him out of if they’re in time. It would be possible for the ending to be a “HEY STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING” from Kanamori who storms into the room, knowing how impulsive Hotaru is and just having found out that his wife had died.

On another note, I had never intended to do another fic for Demon Slayer, but somehow nostalgia just took over me because I was actually well-known for writing horrific death scenes over at Fandom back in the day xD But damn this was painful.   

Anyway, if your heart is rekt, go read the true happy ending of this story here, come now. Don't worry, it's real.

I hope I did your headcanon justice, anon!

[tht0nesimp]

Cold- Yan!Feitan

tw: Mentions of torture, feitan is a warning in himself, you really like peaches

This wasn’t fair. But then again, life isn’t fair? Is it? You questioned for the millionth time as your arms laid limp in the metal chains holding them just a bit too far up to the ceiling to be comfortable

When you’d first gotten here, prayers and promises were all that could pass through your already fragile mind struggling to believe that this experience is truly real. But alas, no matter how hard you screamed, pinched, or cried, the reality of your Situation never changed

you were still hanging by your wrists just barely above the cold concrete floor instead of being on your couch listening to music or poems or sleeping, doing anything that Didn’t cause as much pain, Albeit the only thing that kept you from thinking this was the worst possible outcome was the bloody screams coming faintly from the other side of the small area you were in, the only thing keeping you from the rest of the concrete basement was a few thick dividers somewhat resembling what you would see dividing patients at a hospital

there was a small cot next to you with a thin blanket on it, worn out and as much as you would love to lay down on it, it looks like it’s barely 10 pounds from falling in on itself. The only other thing with you in this small corner of the-Barely-closed off room was a rusted sink covered in all sorts of liquids as well as unidentifiable stains

He rarely talked to you, he either came to hurt you to watch you (Sometimes the latter), More than likely a cruel tactic to break down your “tough” psyche which hadn’t quite crumbled down on itself yet. He was asking someone questions, the screams were somewhat faint to your delight as it Meant you wouldn’t have to hear the man plead for his life today

The noises eventually come to a stop, And footsteps slowly make stop infront of the divider. His shoes visible for a moment before the divider moves and suddenly your body hits the freezing grey floor

“Up.” He speaks with slight annoyance, adrenaline seemed to let your tired legs shakily stand. “Hm” he stared at the cot and held his hand out for a moment, doing something you couldn’t see, “Lay down” he points to the cot and seems rather pleased that you wearily lay on it

It doesn’t collapse but it creaks “I’ll get a new one tomorrow” his monotone voice barely reaches you “Thank you” the feeling of laying down even if it was just with a thin blanket was refreshing beyond belief. “Don’t try anything, or you’ll get to see first hand what happens” He warns

“Yes sir” the words come out dry from days without water or food “It’s feitan” he moves the divider quickly and suddenly hes gone. It takes a few hours for you to even be able to get up and stretch your legs, you approach the old sink attached to the wall at the bottom of the cot-The thought would have made you sick before this last week or so but it barely even made your mind in the desperate mood you were in

you put your hand under the weak stream of water trickling from the leaky faucet, taking a gulp of the cold water was pure bliss. After a few more rabid gulps you were able to turn off the sink before sitting back down on the cot

you were so focused on the water that you neglected to realize feitan stood behind you, watching the animalistic behavior with a surprised look hiding behind his cowl. You immediately look down in slight shame, mixed with fear of how he might react

“hmm, thirsty, huh?” He teased while looking at the sink for a moment “Uh…yeah” your voice comes out weaker than you hoped it would “I might replace the sink eventually” if you were delusional than you might have actually believed him

You spared him your seeming belief in the form of a thin smile, your mind much more worried about how your going to get out of this hellhole. Feitan stared for what felt like an eternity before he walks away once more into the surrounding room- The only difference was that the divider was not returned to its closed off form and instead is open

You clumsily stumbled out, Looking around the rest of the room, There was someone shaking in the corner as if they were freezing but you ran past them and towards the wooden steps that creaked when you ran up them to reach the upstairs of his house. Your greeted by feitan sitting at a table next to a small kitchen, on the other side of the table is a living room with a small old couch sitting facing a small TV

“Brave one…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear from the top step, the dusty glass goor closed behind you as your feet meet the near freezing wooden floors of the dining room. “Sit, Hungry?” He calmly asks with a slight hint of pity at seeing your shaky steps towards the chair across from him

“Yeah…” you look down at your lap but it just makes him chuckle and get up, placing a peach in front of you with surprising gentleness. “Thank you” it takes all of your effort not to immediately sink your teeth into the soft fruit in-front of you until he sits down across from you, the little self control you managed to uphold tore to pieces when you looked down at the fruit again

It wasn’t peach season, but the thought barely crossed your mind as the fruit was gone in mere seconds. Feitan laughed at the once more ravenous behavior in a way that made your cheeks light up pink from shame

“Your as pink as the peach was” he mumbles before throwing the pit in the trash without even looking, watching the slight amazement on your face with pride.

He propped his elbows up on the table and held his head in his hand “I’m gonna ask you questions, your gonna answer honestly” out of some small confidence you had the curiosity to ask “If I don’t?” feitan sighs and his eyes narrow at you

“then you can say goodbye to the cot, for a long,long, time”

[wonwussy]

Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding

pairing; seungkwan x reader

genre; fluff, angst

notes/warnings; 70's au, talk of death and war, food... i took liberties with laffy taffy and it's creation timeline, since i cannot find an exact year it was created and put out in the world. this isn't a romance. this is part of the 70s;teen collab with svthub

word count; 2400

Three years ago, you last saw your brother. The day he left for boot camp, to join his place in the Army during the Vietnam War. You had hugged him tightly, holding back tears as he told you to be strong, that he would write whenever he had the chance. And all you could do was nod and sniffle into his jacket.

Two years ago, you last heard from him. His final letter arrived at the house, addressed to the family, but you knew the beat up envelope held a special letter just for you. Your letters always contained things he’d never share with your parents, claiming he didn’t want to worry your mother. You still remember the last words he wrote to you. “When I get back, we’re going to listen to all the records I’ve missed.”

One year and ten months ago, your mom stood at the kitchen counter, tears streaming down her cheeks as a telegram sat on the counter. Your breath caught in your chest, ice in your veins. You didn’t dare ask what happened, what she read, but you had to know. You reached her side and picked up the telegram, hands shaking as you read the words. Missing in action.

One year ago, it was official. Another telegram arrived, and any hope of your brother coming home vanished. No body to bury. Your father cursed your brother, your mother cursed your father, and you cursed the war. But none of it mattered. Your brother was gone. Dead.

Today, you stand at the headstone that marks his empty grave. Reading his name, again. His years of life, again. “Beloved son, brother, friend”, again. You draw in a shaky breath and sit on the grass in front of it, fingers twisting around the green blades as you try to come up with words to say to him.

There is so much you want to say to him, to tell him. How you are still angry that he enlisted, how he got himself killed for some stupid war that wasn’t his to fight. How you miss him every day, and how music doesn’t sound the same with him gone. How he hurt your mother, who still cries herself to sleep. How he hardened your father, closed off from the world.

“Fuck you,” is all you manage to get out before a bubble of laughter spills from you. You don’t know why, but you’re laughing. And then you’re laughing harder. Next thing you know, tears are stinging the corners of your eyes, and there’s a stab of pain in your side from laughing so hard. You know you must look certifiable, clutching your side as you laugh on the ground in front of a gravestone.

“Are– are you okay?” you hear someone ask from behind you, sounding a little unsure on whether they should actually be talking to you or not.

You startle in your spot, the small jumpscare only causing you to laugh more. You twist as you wipe your eyes and look up at the man behind you, shaking your head. “No. I mean, yes. No. I’m sorry, I don’t know,” you reply as you force your laughter down, before real tears spill over.

He just quirks an eyebrow at you, looking even more wary of the situation. Coming across someone laughing their ass off in a graveyard wasn’t exactly a situation anyone warned him about. “Okay… well, I’ll just leave you to it then.”

He turns and starts to walk away, and you scramble to your feet. You don’t know why, but you feel like you need to explain yourself to him. You wipe at your cheeks as you follow after him, clearing your throat quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just… sorry,” you tell him as you reach his side.

You come to a stop as he does, hugging your arms around yourself as he turns to face you. He studies you, head tipping to the side, and smiles a little. “You didn’t. I was finished anyway.” He pauses as he starts walking again. “I should be sorry for interrupting you.”

You couldn’t help but smile when he smiles, and you find yourself following him again. You don’t even know his name, yet you’re going after him. “No, you didn’t. To be honest, I hadn’t even gotten started.”

He simply nods in response, falling silent as you two make your way out of the graveyard. “There’s a diner not far from here, if you want to join me,” he offers once you hit the sidewalk. “They may have terrible coffee, but their burgers are pretty good.”

The offer takes you aback, and you shoot him a funny look. “I don’t even know you, and you’re asking me out?”

“I’m asking if you want to go sit in the same booth at a diner that serves shitty coffee and good burgers, not on a date,” he muses as he stops to face you again. “Boo Seungkwan. And now you know me.”

You’re flabbergasted, and you know you should say no. Name or not, he’s still a stranger. However, you don’t say no. Instead, you nod and cross your arms over your chest. “I guess I could go for some fries,” you answer.

“Alright.” And he was walking again.

You can’t help but smile and fall into step beside him, unsure of what to say. Going with “so, what brings you to the cemetery?” probably wasn’t the best conversation starter. Instead, you both fall silent as you walk, your mind drifting to your brother once again.

It’s almost as if you can hear him whisper in your ear, half teasing and half warning you about going off with some guy you just met. “You think he’s cute, don’t you, Laffy? He seems like a square to me. Though, picking up chicks in the graveyard is kind of strange,” he echoes in your head, and you can’t stop the heat crawling up your neck.

Fingers snap in front of your face, and you blink as your head clears, looking at Seungkwan. He smirks and reaches for the door handle, pulling the door open for you as he steps back. “We’re here,” he announces, causing the heat to spread to your cheeks.

“Right. Sorry,” you mutter as you enter the diner, embarrassment crawling through your veins.

He shrugs as he leads you to a back corner booth, allowing you to pick your side before he slides into the other seat. He smiles at the waitress that hands you two menus, before taking your drink orders. Seungkwan orders a coffee, which surprises you. You could have sworn he said the coffee was bad.

He must notice the look on your face, and laughs as he leans back in the booth. “My friends say I have coffee instead of blood in my veins. Just because I drink coffee… a lot. Though, it’s not as much as they think. I just like the taste, I guess,” he explains, his gaze dropping down to his hands.

You let out a huff of laughter and pull one leg up so your foot is flat on the bench. “My brother would call me Laffy, because I’d eat so many Laffy Taffy’s growing up. I used to have a stash of them in my room, mostly because he’d sneak them to me,” you remember fondly, a half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Haven’t had one in a while though,” you add quietly.

Seungkwan studies you for a moment, before glancing up as the waitress drops off your drinks. You both order quickly, before he is looking back at you, his hands wrapping around the mug of coffee in front of him. “What was your favorite flavor?”

You meet his eyes as you take a sip of your Coke, shrugging one shoulder. “Banana. Or the sparkle cherry. I loved the little hard candy pieces in it. My brother always read the jokes, that are on the wrappers, and thought they were the funniest thing.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “They had some really awful ones, if I remember correctly,” he says as he lifts his mug to his lips.

“Oh, they were all bad. But I couldn’t help but laugh with him. His laugh was so… infectious.” You pause as your heart squeezes painfully at the memories, pulling in a shaky breath. “That’s who I was seeing. My brother. He, uh… he was killed. The war,” you explain softly, shifting your focus out the window on the side of your booth.

He did figure as much, when he had caught the name and years on the gravestone you were at. He didn’t want to push or pry, but didn’t expect you to share on your own. “I’m sorry. That must be so hard,” he whispers, resisting the urge to rest his hand over yours. “He sounds like he was a great brother.”

“Yeah, he was. Soon as he could, he enlisted. He said he had to do something,” you recall, rolling your eyes. “He left. No one knew just how bad it was though. He’d write me, and tell me things that they weren’t showing on the news. It was so much worse than anyone could have known. And it wasn’t even our war. One day, he was labeled MIA. We got no details, and I don’t think anyone really looked for him. We just hoped and prayed he’d show up and come home. That he’d walk through the door one day.”

You sniffed and could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes. You wiped at your eyes and shook your head, looking back at Seungkwan. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all this. We just met, and I’m giving you the tragedy of my soldier brother that never came home,” you joke weakly.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he drinks his coffee, shooting you a tiny smile. “My grandpa served in World War Two. My uncle was in the Korean War. While they physically came home, I think a part of them stayed behind. They don’t talk about what happened over there, but you can see it. In their eyes,” he says with a sigh. “War doesn’t just affect those who serve, it affects those around them.”

The waitress drops off your food as you let Seungkwan’s words roll around in your head, reaching for a fry. He’s right, and you know it. Your own grandfather never talked about his time during World War Two, and you never asked. You just knew it wasn’t something to bring up around him.

The pair of you start in on your food, falling into a comfortable silence with the sounds of the diner settling in around you. You glance up at Seungkwan and study him as he eats, only to look away shyly when he catches you. You’re grateful he doesn’t say anything, though you catch a smirk while he chews on his burger.

You stop mid-chew when a familiar song starts playing over the speakers in the diner, and you can’t help but grin. Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” is one of your favorite songs, and you remember listening to it for the first time with your brother. “We used to go to the record store, every couple of weeks, and just search for records. We found Otis Redding one day, and never looked back,” you told him with a laugh. “We, of course, had differing opinions on which song was his best. And how… devastated we were when he died in that plane crash.”

He half smiles as he swallows, reaching for a few fries. “I am partial to Aretha Franklin myself. Her cover of “Respect” is, sorry to say, better than Otis’. She made it her own and brought a whole new interpretation to the song,” he states confidently, before biting into the fries.

Scoffing, you shake your head and sit up a little straighter. “No way. Sure, Aretha made it her own, and I respect that. It’s great. But no one can outdo Otis and his original,” you argue. “I think you need to get your ears checked.”

He laughs, and you smile at the sound. You find yourself liking the sound of his laugh, how he looks when he smiles. How good it makes you feel just to be there, discussing music with someone again. You don’t realize it, but a tiny crack in your heart starts to heal.

The meal continues with you two discussing, sometimes heatedly, more music. You tell him about the record store you frequent, he shares where he goes to watch live shows. It’s easy, just to sit and forget for a while, especially with Seungkwan. He doesn’t push where he shouldn’t, never makes you feel uncomfortable. And you enjoy yourself, for the first time in what seems like forever.

Soon, you are both paying for your meals (paying separately, of course, since it’s not a date), and are back out on the sidewalk. “You were right. The burgers were really good. Can’t believe I haven’t been there before,” you say as you both start walking in no particular direction.

“And the coffee never gets better. You think I’d learn not to order it,” he jokes with a laugh. He looks up and stops short, before telling you to wait a moment.

You are confused as he enters a store, and emerges several moments later with a huge grin on his face. “Should I be asking if you’re okay?” you tease, pointing to the drug store name. “Did that coffee get you that bad?”

He shakes his head and folds a piece of candy into your hand. “I thought you’d want some dessert.”

You look down at your hand and blink at the Laffy Taffy there, sparkling cherry flavor. “I–” you start, only to stop as you look back at him. “Thanks,” you finish in a whisper.

“So, what’s the joke?”

You can’t help but grin as you look down at the wrapper to read it, rolling your eyes at what’s printed. “Why did the orange lose the race?”

“Why?”

“Because it ran out of juice.”

“That’s terrible! Who is writing these jokes? I think I should go ask for a refund,” Seungkwan says with a roll of his eyes, though he is laughing.

His laugh that you can get used to hearing. You hope you can keep hanging out with him, keep some kind of relationship with him. “I’m y/n, by the way. Now you know my name.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I'll be with you all along

Sometimes we just need to write pages about the heartbreaking parallels between icemav and hangster.

For my gorgeous gf @nb-fearneas all of my Top Gun fics are because they just wouldn't exist without them!

Please reblog and leave comments over on Ao3!

---------

Tom Kazansky had always been a light sleeper. It made him hell to share a bed with but it made him a good admiral, a job where your phone could ring at any and all hours and god only knew what would be happening at the other end.  

So when the silence of a warm, still three in the morning was shaken by his phone rattling rhythmically on the side table, Tom was sitting up and reaching for it in moments. Or at least, as much as he could sit up when one arm was still trapped under a stubbornly sleeping Maverick. 

“Kazansky,” he rasped without looking at the screen, his mouth awake before his eyes. 

There was a moment before the person on the other end spoke. A moment where Tom was already mapping the quickest path to his uniform, the shortest route he could take to work at this hour, the fastest way he could get a fairly decent coffee, if there would be time for that. He was already preparing himself to be Admiral ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. 

“Uncle Tom?”

All of the thoughts collapsed, insignificant. Because Tom had forgotten he had another job, besides being an admiral, one just as unpredictable and significantly more terrifying but so much more important. One he’d been so scared he was failing at. 

“Bradley. Hey kid, it’s good to hear your voice.”

That voice was small and fragile, shaking like it could break at any moment, “Yeah. Good to hear yours too. I…I’m sorry to wake you, I just…”

“You know I don’t mind,” Tom tried to carefully dislodge his arm from under Maverick, “Is everything okay?”

He knew the answer. There was never going to be a good reason why Bradley was calling this early in the morning, if history was any teacher it was either because he was drunk or he was upset. And the kid didn’t sound drunk right now, though his words were a little slurred, he just sounded as fragile as glass. 

There was a hitching breath on the other end of the line, like the words had hurt as they left him. 

“Me and Jake. We’re done. We broke up.”

Tom closed his eyes and exhaled softly, the agony in Bradley’s voice hitting him so hard it became his own, “God, kid…I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t,” the words were wavering, breaking, shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the line, “It’s my fault, I fucked up, I ruined everything…”

“Bradley. Breathe.”

Tom had to raise his voice to be heard over his kid’s rising panic, enough that Maverick stirred next to him. Almost on automatic, he rested a hand gently on his husband’s head, stroking a thumb across his hair, trying to soothe him back to sleep. He didn’t want the hurt to spill any further, not if he could help it. 

Whether it was because the command was coming from his admiral or his uncle, Bradley listened, taking a thin breath that fought him every moment. But it was enough, the sobs breaking through cleanly now, like blood finally welling up from a wound. Even as much as Bradley had grown, those cries had never changed, hearing them now Tom could have been in the corridor outside Carole’s hospital room, on hard plastic chairs outside the principal's office after another fight, sitting on a hospital bed of his own before his surgery when they hadn’t known if it would be enough. 

All he could do now was what he’d done then. 

“I’m here, Bradley,” Tom promised, his own voice shaking, “Just let it go, I’m right here.”

He couldn’t see the kid but he knew the way his shoulders would be shaking, his face would be etched in lines of pain, his hands would be grasping at anything they could reach, his shirt or his sheets or his own curls. He knew he needed someone to put steadying hands over his own to release their grip, strong arms to lock tight around him so he’d know he wouldn’t shake apart entirely. That was Tom’s job, it always had been, but right now Bradley was miles across the country at flight school, pushed beyond his reach by the navy and this thing between him and Maverick.

Well, fuck that.

Hoping Maverick had sunk back into the deep sleep Tom envied, he stood, legs protesting more than he’d like, and made for his office, “Keep breathing, that’s it. I’m here, Bradley, I’m listening…”

Bradley stopped trying to form words, just sobbing in the way you only really could after your first real heartbreak. Ice’s hands itched to hold him, to coax those shuddery gasps into something smooth and even the way he’d always done, one hand on the shoulder and one on the chest. He felt every mile between them, between him and the terrified, stricken little boy he’d promised to protect so many years ago. 

Seeing as he couldn’t reach that far, Tom refocused his hands, one pressing the phone to his ear so hard there would be indentations in his fingers, the other rattling on the keys of his computer to buy the next plane ticket to Florida. 

“I’m coming, Bradley, okay? I can be there…tomorrow midday. Well, today, technically,” Tom promised, eyes scanning the screen.

Bradley’s words were thin and raw, bending under the weight of need he was struggling not to admit to himself, “I…you’ve got to be crazy busy…”

“Kid…” Tom’s voice softened, “You come first, you always do. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

How something could be such an indelible truth to him but Bradley could doubt it, Tom would never understand. It was like gravity to him while his kid was always terrified of floating away. 

“I need you,” Bradley eventually managed to choke out, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Ice set his jaw against a yawn and bought the ticket, “You know how much that means to me.”

There was a weak, watery kind of laugh that gave Tom a glimpse of hope, “Well, you’re fucking welcome, I guess. At least someone’s got a reason to smile tonight.” 

Tom leaned back in his office chair, finally having a chance to rub the sleep from his eyes, “Do you want to tell me about it, kid?”

“Not much to say,” Bradley’s voice broke, threatening to collapse into sobs again, the frantic moments of clarity only cloud breaks in the storm, “I fucked it up, Uncle Tom.”

I’m sure you didn’t. That was probably what Tom was supposed to say but he made a point of not lying to Bradley, no matter how kind it would sound. 

“If you want to leave it at that for now…” he murmured instead, leaving the door open. 

For a few minutes, only Bradley’s trembling breaths told Tom he hadn’t just hung up “...he told me he loved me.”

He said it the way he’d confessed to getting detention as a teenager, to breaking the kitchen window with a baseball, like it was a bad grade on a test. 

“Bradley…” Tom murmured softly, aching for him. 

“I…he said it was fine if I didn’t say it back, he wasn’t asking me to,” Bradley gasped, like he was being pulled under water every other word, “But I panicked and…and I don’t know where it came from, I just got so scared and so angry…”

“You panicked,” Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses would be sitting at a reasonable hour of the morning. 

“I…I don’t know what happened. Jake was just looking at me like he’d given me something but fuck, I didn’t know what to do with it, it felt so heavy and I couldn’t…I just couldn’t…”

Tom leaned forward, face pulled down into grief, “Bradley…”

“I just couldn’t believe him,” he moaned, voice splintering. 

Tom knew what had happened. A young man who’d had everyone he was supposed to rely on die or let him down or be too far away to see had the terrifying realisation that he needed another person. Because he did love Jake Seresin, whatever words he had or hadn’t said, he loved him and as far as Bradley knew, that meant getting hurt again. The only kind of love he knew was one that ended like broken glass so he’d tried to lash out and break it first. 

And he’d succeeded. 

“Bradley…”

“He looked so hurt,” Bradley sobbed, “Everything his family put him through, everything he ran away from, he trusted me with it all and I’m the one who hurt him worst. I shouted at him, Uncle Tom, he told me he loved me and I threw it back at him and now it’s ruined…”

“Bradley.”

“Why couldn’t I say it, why couldn’t I just fucking say it, what’s wrong with me-”

“Bradley. You need to breathe. In and out, come on.” 

Finally, Tom heard him, thin and shaking but he heard him, one breath in and one breath out. He took him through another and another, talking like his Admiral but loving him so hard, the way only family could. 

“You’re coming right? Soon?” Bradley gasped. 

“Very soon,” Tom promised, “I’ll be there, kid.”

It was all he could promise. 

“I need to shower, Bradley but I’ll call you straight after, alright? We’ll talk while I pack and on the drive to the airport.”

Tom could tell the kid was just being brave when he said that was okay and ended the call.

So he moved quickly to the bathroom, his brain easily slipping back into planning and organising, breaking down the next few hours minute by minute, figuring out how to have the fewest number of seconds between this one and the one where Bradley Bradshaw was in his arms. Cold tile under his bare feet and warm water hitting his skin, Tom barely noticed any of it. 

Until he turned to grab the soap and nearly collided with Maverick. Tom should have been more surprised but it wasn’t the first time his husband had followed him into the shower, half asleep. The first time he’d done it, Tom had screeched and been about to throw him out, at least until Mav had yawned and mumbled that he’d just wanted to be where Ice was. 

“Baby…” Tom murmured, hands moving on automatic to hold him. 

Mav burrowed against his chest, voice soft and muddy with sleepiness or emotion or both, “You’re leaving…”

It wasn’t a question so Tom didn’t treat it like one, “I’m sorry. It’s the kid, Mav.”

The body pressed against his own went tense, “Bradley? What happened, is he okay?”

“Ah. He and his boyfriend ended things. Messily by the sound of it…”

Mav made a soft, pained noise. If Tom felt helpless, he couldn’t imagine how his husband was feeling, unable to even give him words. Bradley still didn’t want anything to do with the man he’d used to call Uncle Pete, even now he was past USNA and into flight school on his own merit. He’d just left him with the anger, the hate, the hurt he’d thrown at him the last time they’d spoken. 

And now Tom had to leave his wingman behind to run to the other side of the chasm between him and Bradley. They could tell themselves over and over that this was the compromise they’d found but still, it hurt, and they both knew it. 

But his brave, brilliant, stubborn Pete Mitchell turned his face up to Tom and found a smile somewhere. It was small, thin and it shook at the edges but it was there. 

“Of course you’ve gotta go. The kid needs you, Ice.”

Tom remembered being a younger man, a lot like his Bradley. He remembered being terrified of the depths in his own heart, like if it held too much he would drown in it. He remembered his broken, angry home leaving its scars and sending him out into the world thinking he’d never love or be loved and that was the safest way to play the game. He remembered meeting Maverick and love hitting him like a fist to the teeth, setting him on the defensive, bristling through him. It had taken nearly dying, Maverick refusing to abandon him, to be brave enough to take all the anger and fear, strip it away to find the love that hid inside it all. 

And as soon as he did, Tom had regretted every moment he’d wasted not being in love with Pete Mitchell. 

Right now, the kid might need him. But in the end, he’d need his own Maverick. Tom had hoped Jake would be it but he supposed not, not everyone was lucky enough to run into the love of their life thanks to deployment papers. 

“When I come back, let’s go somewhere. I’ll take some vacation time and we’ll go on a trip together, just you and me.” 

Mav blinked in surprise, though his smile picked up, “Okay, yeah. That sounds fun…but why?”

Tom gently cupped Mav’s face, admiring, not for the first time in his life, how perfectly his jaw fit into his palms, how his thumbs rested just so in his dimples. 

“Because I love you. I love you so fucking much, Pete and I don’t say it enough,” Tom’s voice broke, startling him, “And I want to have some time where I’ve got nothing to think about except loving you.”

Maverick just nodded, eyes wide and soft as he rose up on the balls of his feet to kiss his husband, knowing that would help fill the gaps in their words, the things they just couldn’t say. 

“I love you too, Tom,” he murmured. Because he could say that, no matter what they’d been told for years. 

For a moment, Tom was terrified he wouldn’t be able to do it. The thought of leaving him here, flying to Florida, doing so much as letting go of Maverick’s arms, it felt impossible at that moment. 

It was up to Maverick to step back, pat Tom on the arm and brace himself, water running down his face that could have started in his hair and could have started in his eyes but they weren’t going to ask. 

“I’ll help you pack.”

Only then did it feel like Tom could move. The rest was simple, clothes thrown haphazardly into a bag, some pulled onto his back, hair and teeth brushed, frantic swallows of a coffee that was still too hot in between it all, only just remembering his keys when one foot was already out of the door. Only the barest necessities coming with him apart from Maverick himself, leaning in the doorway in boxers and Tom’s old USNA sweatshirt. 

He still lingered, leaving Maverick with the softest, gentlest kiss he could give, feeling the old hurt of so many times he’d had to leave the man he loved. He could tell himself it wasn’t like those times, that they’d hopefully left all that behind them, but his chest knew the ache like it had never really left. 

Mav kissed him back, resting their foreheads together, “Go on. Your kid needs you.”

“Our kid,” Tom murmured, finally turning to the car.

He didn’t take his eyes off Maverick until a turn in the road took him out of the rearview mirror. Tom felt the wrench of it, sighing, swallowing hard and trying to focus on Bradley. 

He had a long way to go. They all did.

-

Tom always felt a rush of excitement standing at Bradley’s front door. The thought that in a heartbeat he’d have the kid standing there in the flesh, in another heartbeat he’d be in his arms and the distance between them would shrink to nothing. 

He still felt it, or at least the ghost of it, even now he lived two blocks down the road.

Tom turned over his shoulder, “You coming, baby?”

Halfway down the path, his husband fussed with the lapels of his jacket, trying to get them to lie straight, “Yeah, just…yeah, I’m coming.”

Tom smiled gently and closed the distance between them in a few strides, catching Maverick’s hands in his own and holding them still. Bradley wasn’t going to care whether the lapels on that old, tattered thing were flat and he suspected Mav knew it too. 

Visiting Bradley gave him the ghost of excitement. But for Maverick, it was guilt. 

“Come on,” Tom smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Our kid’s waiting.”

“Kids,” Maverick corrected, his usual grin reigniting on his face. 

Tom gave a bark of laughter and wound his arms around his shoulders, gently steering him towards the door, “Damn right.”

He let Maverick knock, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. Tom knew patterns and with it being before noon on a Sunday, with both boys on leave, he wasn’t expecting an answer anytime soon despite the fact that they’d been invited. So it was something of a surprise when the door opened immediately and Bradley Bradshaw stood there grinning. 

“Morning!”

He threw himself forward, shoulders broad enough to hold them both, gripping tight. Tom smiled and let his eyes close, his hand finding Maverick’s across the kid’s back. Breathing always came just a little easier like this. 

Jake Seresin hovered a little further in the hallway, in the way he did that had a lot to do with him and very little to do with them. Tom hugged him just the same and never said anything when the kid always held on a second longer than was normal. 

The rest was all familiar, something of a tradition since Maverick retired and Ice scaled back his hours, since Bradley and Jake had settled close by. The radio playing softly in the corner of the kitchen, the Californian sun coming in through the windows, someone who wasn’t Tom cooking breakfast until it started to go inevitably wrong and Tom took over. The smells of coffee and butter melting into warm bread, warm sugar and a day with nothing to fill it except what they chose, a luxury to guys like them. Maverick pulling Ice in to dance whenever a slow song came on, Bradley booing and telling them to get a room, Jake joining in but with a softer expression like he meant it less. Sharing food, sharing time, feeling like a family. 

They were used to slow, easy, golden mornings like this. But something was different this time. Tom glanced across to Maverick as he stood at the stove, flipping slices of french toast, seeing his husband sipping coffee and watching the two kids. He felt Tom’s eyes on him, glanced over to share his knowing smile. 

Jake and Bradley were up to something. 

Maverick raised an eyebrow but Tom shook his head in response. Whatever it was, whatever was behind Jake’s bouncing leg and Bradley’s fingers tapping on the counter the same way Goose’s used to when he was nervous, they’d share it when they were ready and they’d just wait until then. His perpetually impatient husband pouted a little at that but Tom just flicked powdered sugar in his face, bringing his smile back. 

He knew they wouldn’t be waiting long. 

Bradley’s fingers were still tapping on the table even as he cackled at his own story, “I swear, absolutely no hesitation, straight in the fountain. Face first.”

Jake covered his face as Tom and Maverick laughed, pink and grinning behind his fingers, “Look, they shouldn’t just have a fountain around drunk college students…”

“I think they expect the students at USNA to be a little more disciplined,” Ice chuckled raspily, sipping his coffee, “Incorrectly, of course, but they do.”

“Yeah, discipline kind of goes out the window after you’ve shot gunned your fourth can,” Jake groaned in his own defence.

“Ah, kid,” Maverick managed to speak through his laughter, wiping at his eyes, “You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last…”

Bradley pulled Jake’s hand away from his face, knotting their fingers together on the table, “Yeah, don’t worry, baby. These two probably did way worse shit before they got their wings…and probably since. Maybe more since?”

“Since I got married to the Commander of the Pacific Fleet and realised I could get away with more? Absolutely,” Maverick grinned, nudging Tom, “Though I think I’m doing it for the both of us, Ice has probably never put a toe out of line.”

“Hence why I’m the Commander keeping your ass out of trouble,” Tom gave him a wink.

“So you never had any bent rules, Iceman?” Jake hummed, his thumb gently tracing the valleys of Bradley’s knuckles. 

“Well…aside from the obvious?” Tom grinned, sliding an arm around Maverick’s shoulders, making him laugh.

“It doesn’t count if the rule is stupid,” Maverick shrugged, leaning into him. 

“See, this is why I have to bail you out so many times…”

They were laughing but a glance had passed between Jake and Bradley, a squeeze of their hands. 

“Actually,” Bradley cleared his throat, “Speaking of your general respectability, Uncle Tom? We were wondering if you’d do us a favour?”

“Anything kid, you know that,” Tom nodded, though he couldn’t keep the curiosity out of his voice and he could feel Maverick nearly vibrating where he leaned against his chest. 

The words left Bradley in a rush, the way they used to when he was a kid, like they had to get out of his mouth quickly before he lost his nerve and his teeth snapped shut again, “Could you maybe write me and Jake a letter of recommendation?”

Tom blinked, tilting his head, “Of course. What for?”

Bradley’s eyes flickered nervously to Jake, who gave him a soft smile that was encouragement, shared nervousness and a promise all in one, that was hey, it’s okay, I’m here. How many times had Tom only been brave enough to do something because Pete Mitchell had given him a smile like that? 

Bradley met Tom’s eyes and grinned crookedly, “A recommendation letter for the adoption agency. You two fancy being grandpas?”

Tom wasn’t very good with words. So he didn’t even try. There was nothing else he could do but get to his feet, move around the table and fold Bradley into the tightest, warmest hug he could manage. And as he did, he thought of all of the versions of the kid he’d known, the cheeky, bright smiling toddler, the scared, angry teenager, the young man who’d smiled and joked to hide how lost he really was and this warm, confident adult who’d grown taller than Tom somewhere along the way. He held every single one of them in his arms and shamelessly soaked Bradley’s shoulder, crying in sheer relief that he really had been okay in the end. 

“Thanks, Uncle Tom,” Bradley’s voice was thick, his grip on his shoulders down enough to hurt and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the six page letter Tom would eventually write, “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid,” Tom smiled against his shoulder. 

His arms were already open to welcome Maverick and Jake when they joined them, wondering how much longer he’d be able to hold his whole family in one embrace. He hadn’t wanted Jake and Bradley to have the life he’d lived with Mav. He’d wanted more for them, he’d wanted things to be better, the world to be kinder. And here they were, getting something he and his husband had never been able to even consider. The world didn’t feel that much kinder but they, at least, felt stronger. 

Tom took a deep steadying breath. 

They’d come so far. 

[cyb3rscoups]

Nightmare

A/N: Explicit Content ahead, Minors DNI

God forbid she closed her eyes again. Rest hasn’t been so kind to her lately. No matter how tired she was, she always suffered when she slept.

Queen Mother, her own mother and father, W’Kabi. They became images of torture and pain in her subconscious that caused her to jolt up in a cold sweat.

“Attuma..” She whispered into the night. “Are you there?”

Looking out in the vast waters of the beach, Okoye hoped her lover was listening. He always had keen hearing when she called.

Moving herself closer to the water, she spoke again.

“I need you tonight. My mind is torturing me.”

“What does it show you?” Attuma’s head rose to the surface, his face bare from a rebreather.

“Horrible things.” Okoye watched as he sunk back down into the depths. “Attuma? Are you ignoring me?”

“Never.” He popped up again, the distorting face covering on his mouth now. “Take me to your home.”

An exhausted Okoye was something Attuma wouldn’t stand for. The warrior swayed as she walked, like she could pass out on the ground any second.

But then one of those cursed images would jolt her awake and back to her senses.

When they arrived to her place, Attuma took a thorough look around. Okoye giggled as he crouched down into cabinets and searched cupboards.

“Are you looking for monsters or something, Shark?”

“Yes.” Attuma searched in seriousness, moving her aside to check under the sink.

“You’ll find none here. My home is clean.”

The shark huffed as she guided him to her bedroom, turning out the lights he had flicked on.

“I see my Queen, my husb- my ex, and my parents. They all come to me, faking kindness and then-“

Attuma finds his way behind her, resting his head on her shoulder as he shushed her words.

“No more. I will get you to sleep peacefully tonight.”

“Well if you took my offer, we could sleep peacefully every night. Together. You end up here most of the time anyway.”

Attuma chuckled, his hands snaking around her body, one resting across her waist, the other dipping into her waist band and cupping her sex.

“Okoye, you are never satisfied.” He parted her lips and pushed pressure to her clit.

“…That’s…not true..” She reached around to cup his cheek as he rubbed tight circles on the bud.

“Then all I want to hear from you is your cries of pleasure. Nothing else.”

“Okay..O-okay…Ah fuuck..Just keep doing that.”

Okoye, slumped over in his arms, her grip on his wrists as he covered her in his mass.

His fingers got sloppy as they covered in her slick and her legs snapped closed as he dipped two fingers into her walls and thrusted shallowly.

“Come on…open up for me hm? Let me satisfy you.”

Another shiver down her spine as her legs turned to jelly. Attuma let out a satisfied hum into her neck.

“Ooh..right there!” Okoye’s nails dug into his wrists as he angled his fingers to brush her spot with every thrust. Her praise urged him on as his pace quickened, his breathing into the mask ragged.

Before she knew it, she was clenching around him and soaking his fingers. Bliss she felt as the knot in her stomach released.

“How long can you breathe without that thing again?”

“About 3 minutes before the air starts feeling suffocating. 5 before I faint.”

Okoye turned in his arms with a sigh. “Can I take it off?” Attuma nodded and allowed her to take off the rebreather.

His lips spread in a dopey smile as she looked at him.

“I don’t get to see you often enough.” Okoye’s hands cradled his cheeks as his stayed secure around her hips.

“You see me everyday..”

“No.. I see that dreaded rebreather everyday. I want to see you.”

His brows furrowed as she continued to look at him like it had been a millennia.

“Okoye..”

“Attuma..”

“By the gods, kiss me.”

Okoye giggled as she rose to her toes and connected their lips. His breathing became labored as he braced his weight against her. Regrettably he had to pull away fast and secure his rebreather back to his face.

“I’m sorry..” He sighed.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m still not tired so you have work to do.” She smirked.

[imwittyou]

𝐑𝐨𝐦-𝐂𝐨𝐦 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 || 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 [𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞]

𝘖𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘜𝘊𝘏 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹. You find yourself in a fake relationship to prove something to your ex.

Also on AO3!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

“I said I don’t—”

“What’s that? I’m already on my way up!”

That is all it takes for you to press the bright red button on the screen. Then you throw your phone on the bed before slumping down with a groan.

Octavio Silva is such a pain.

Then again, maybe that is on you for staying friends with your ex. 

You still remember the last time you saw him. He was standing outside your door, looking amazing in his neon green hoodie. But all you could think about was how someone else had just been wearing it before he got there. So you told him to leave.

His hazel eyes widened as you shut the door on his face. Then you stood there by the door with bated breath as you listened for disappearing footfalls. 

Would the high-speed daredevil slow down, just this once, just for you?

He did. 

He knocked on the door and called your name again and again, but you just curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep. Then you woke up two hours later to a message from him asking if you could still be friends.

You still don't know why you said yes. One thing's for certain, though: now you have nothing but regret for that decision.

“You know, you could always block him,” your best friend Elliott Witt reminded you when you complained to him about your situation one day. The rational part of you that still exists agreed with Elliott. Yet you couldn’t find it in you to block Octavio. But now, in the midst of deep breaths, you decide it’s never too late for rationality. 

The loud knocks at the door almost make you drop your phone.

“[Y/N]!”

You shuffle towards the door and peer through the hole. Sure enough, Octavio stands outside, swaying and holding a red solo cup in his hand. He’s not wearing his mask. He never does when he’s around you, which used to make you feel special. But you push the feeling away this time.

Never mind that he remembers your room number even in his state.

“Finally!” Octavio cheers as you open the door. “Thought you’d never open the door!”

You roll your eyes. “So why did you go here specifically?”

“Just felt like seeing you, hermosa,” he says. A wink thrown in your direction catches you off guard and takes everything in you not to throw your arms around him and bury your head on his chest and just weep.

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you say instead. “Happy?”

He leans on the door frame. “Yes,” he breathes out. His eyes are dancing as he gazes at you.

Don’t you know that you don’t have the right to do that to me anymore?

You get the urge to shut the door in his face once again. But the breeze is getting cooler and the night is dragging on and his gaze is starting to lose its focus and yet his eyes still search yours like a puppy wondering if it’s going to get kicked out once again— 

You find yourself letting him right back in.

***

You can’t sleep. 

How can you sleep, anyway? Octavio—your ex —is sleeping on your couch and you can hear the sheets rustling and your room smells like him and—and—

And you still love him. 

That, you’ve always known. You just don’t like admitting it to yourself, let alone out loud. So when Octavio calls your name in the dark, you resist the urge to call him by his nickname. You simply respond with a “Yes?” 

“How have you been?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “Great. I’ve been doing great. Uh, what about you?”

“Amazing! I’m still getting lots of likes,” he brags.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Uh-huh. You haven’t been liking my photos.”

“You know I don’t use social media much anymore.”

“You?” He chuckles.

“Yes,” you insist. It’s true, you’re currently undergoing a social media detox. And although you miss watching funny videos and looking at pictures of cute animals, you know it’s for the best. You can’t risk seeing Octavio’s posts; you know you’ll only end up wallowing in self-pity.

Yet here you are now, sleeping in the same room as him. Granted, nothing that shouldn’t happen has happened. And you’re making sure it stays that way. But you roll over on your side to face him and he’s already looking at you.

"Tavi, I—"

“Are you dating anyone now?” 

[powerofelvis]

You’re Not Alone

Pairing: Elvis x Reader, Austin!Elvis x Reader

Word Count: 1096

Warning(s): A tearjerker in its own right, Angst, a lil’ fluff, you’ll probably cry because seeing Elvis cry is enough to cry.

A/N: This was a request from @loveforelvis. I really wanted to write this because I have yet to write about Elvis losing his mama and I needed something to cry about. I hope this is good and I hope that I wrote to you expectation, darlin’! Our poor boy.

—————————————————————————————————

The news of Gladys’ death shocked you beyond words. You were worried about the Presleys—mainly Elvis. Everyone around town knew how close Elvis was with his mother but only you knew the depths of their relationship. Elvis told his mother everything and he didn’t do anything without her opinion. You were at his home, helping Vernon out with things that Gladys used to do. You would help the cooks cook dinner, clean, and with everything else that you could do. However, while you were staying at Graceland, you would hear Elvis cry himself to sleep every night. The pain in his cries would break your heart into millions of pieces but you didn’t know what to do about it. You could tell that Elvis was waiting for everyone to go to sleep before he would cry. He didn’t want anyone to hear him cry, especially you.

During the day, Elvis would pretend that everything was fine, but in his heart, he was lost. His mother was his bestest girl, nothing could ever get in between them. So how did death rip her away from him so soon? He knew that he couldn’t help that he was going overseas soon to serve in Germany, but he didn’t think that his mother would suffer as much as she did. That is what hurt him the most, that she suffered silently—not reaching out to anyone about her fears of losing her only son to the war. During times that he was sure that no one would be in his parent’s room, he would sit in her closet, sobbing as he held the bottom of her dresses against his face. He could still smell the specific perfume that only he knew she wore.

He would spend weeks going back to the same spot, sitting on the ground, crying into her dresses. His father would try to convince him to come out of the closet, but he would only tell him that this was the only way he could be close to his mama. Sighing, Vernon didn’t know what to do, so he turned to the only person who knew Elvis as well as Gladys did—you. “All he does is sit in the closet, crying into Gladys’ dresses, darlin’.” Vernon said that night, sobbing into his arm. “My boy is lost, Y/N. I can’t help him. He won’t listen to me. I’m scared that he will be too far gone.” He said, reaching out to take your hands. “Please..help my boy. He trusts you. He needs you.” He said as he stood up, patting your shoulder as he went to cry in the room he once shared with his beloved.

You didn’t know what you could do to help Elvis, but it was at that moment that you realized that you had to give your all. Vernon had already told you the times that Elvis would go to that closet, so you waited until you could hear his heartbreaking sobs, crying out for his mama to return to him. You walked into his parents’ room, standing by the closet door, tears falling down your cheeks as your heart broke again. You didn’t know if you could handle seeing him come apart again and again, not having Gladys. You knocked on the door frame, watching as his eyes snapped up to you. “Hey there, bewbie.” You whispered. Other than his mother, you also found yourself calling him that beloved nickname. Elvis sobbed again, hearing the name pass from your lips. Oh how did he miss laying his head on his mama’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair, singing gospel songs. “Your daddy is worried about you.” You said as you crotched down in front of him. “I don’t wanna go anywhere, I-I just wanna stay here forever.” His voice cracked as he sobbed into his mama’s lavender dress.

She remembered how beautiful she looked in that dress, Elvis had bought it for her with his first paycheck working with Crown Electric. She wore that dress proudly. She sighed, sitting down beside him. “We all miss her, bewbie. But nobody can replace her. Nobody.” You whispered as you scooted closer to him. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. I am here, your daddy is here, and so is Dodger and Delta.” You whispered, taking his hand into yours, rubbing the back of it with your thumb. He sobbed as he laid his head on your lap, still clutching on to the lavender dress that had now fallen off of the hanger. You ran your fingers through his raven colored locks, humming his mama’s favorite song. All the while, Elvis was silently crying at the sound of his mama’s favorite song coming from your lips.

“Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He sobbed as he laid in your arms, allowing you to hold him as long as he needed you to. Once he couldn’t cry anymore, he would sit in the closet with you, reminiscing on the memories that the both of you shared with Gladys. There were funny stories, which made Elvis laugh for the first time since she passed. You were glad to see his beautiful smile again, but you knew it wouldn’t last for long before you would find him again in the closet, the next day. However, it didn’t stop you from repeating the same routine of holding him until he either passed out from crying or sitting up, asking you to sing to him. Eventually, Elvis would ask you to come to the closet with him as he wanted to spend time with you away from everyone else. You didn’t mind though, wanting to spend as much time as you could with him.

This routine continued until it was time for him to go overseas. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave? I know you’re still mourning Satnin.” You said, holding his hands. “I have to go back, baby. I can’t take more time off like I wanted.” He sighed, moving his hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well if you ever need someone to talk to, whether it is to rant or cry, you know that I’m only one phone call away.” You said, pressing your lips to his cheek. You wanted Elvis to stay, but you know that he had to go serve the country. Even though this separated him and Gladys, you wanted to make sure that it didn’t do the same for the two of you.

Taglist: @lovininapinkcadillac @lindszeppelin @headfullofpresley @cchl @loveforelvis @oh-my-front-door @rainydayz101 @venus-haze @ash-omalley @oh-kurva @aconflagrationofmyown

[irondad-defensesquad]

How to Disappear Completely

Also on AO3! This is purely a vent fic so characters might be OOC. TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicide attempt (overdose), suicidal thoughts, near death, vomiting, and hospitalization. DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. It’s me again. How are you doing? How’s the trip? You’ve been away for a couple of days now, haha…”

Peter doesn’t get any reply. He sighs.

“I guess my patrol hasn’t been too bad. But school has been stressing me out lately. Sometimes I wish I could leave the Decathlon, but I already left the school band and a bunch of other things… I dunno, I don’t think I can handle things the way I used to.”

He stares at the night sky, listening to the whole city. It never sleeps and neither will Peter.

“Ned has been sick all week. It’s nothing serious, but he needs to rest and I don’t want to bug him. Aunt May has been busy, working a lot more night shifts, and I know it’s my fault. I rarely see her now. She still texts me or calls me to know how I’m doing, but it’s not the same, y’know?” Peter narrates. “And I know you and Happy have more important things to do, I get it, it’s fine.”

As he says that, he starts tearing up.

“... I wish I could’ve told you to stay,” Peter admits. “That’s really selfish of me, I know. You don’t have to drop everything for my sake. I wouldn’t want you to do that. I just…” He sniffs. “I miss you, Mr. Stark. I-I feel like I don’t have anyone else right now. And it’s not like I’m hurt or anything… I just miss you very much.”

He half uncovers his face so his mask doesn’t get gross with tears and snot.

“... You know when you come home and you don’t feel anything? Even after you had a good day or you didn’t feel like shit all day? But then you get home and you see how empty it is… you feel so lonely that it hurts, somehow. It’s empty but it hurts, real bad. Have you ever felt like that, Mr. Stark? Or is it just me?” Peter wishes to god that someone answered this. “A-And it hurts so much that… you wish you could disappear. Because you don’t want to go back outside, but you don’t want to be home, either. There’s nothing for you in either.”

The emptiness is right there, in Peter’s silence. It’s there with the lack of the other line. It’s always there and it will always be there, no matter how busy Peter may be, no matter how hard he might laugh with his best friend, or how happy he might be when Tony compliments him and touches him. Every night that Peter comes back home, there’s nothing left. Peter will never be fulfilled.

He can’t stay home, he can’t stay outside… Where should he go?

…

“Mr. Stark…” Peter gulps, despite the fact Tony isn’t even here. But he needs to say it before it’s too late.

“... I love–”

“You’ve reached the limit of voicemails.”

Even his phone is telling him to shut up.

Peter inhales but he’s unable to filter out his frustration. He growls and throws his phone to the ground, easily cracking it in many pieces. Oh, great. How is he going to get a new phone now? After he broke so many? How is Aunt May going to pay for another one if he’s just going to break it again and again?

He’s sobbing violently in his empty apartment, his chest aching and suffocating him. His cries echo in all rooms, but not a soul will ever hear.

Peter can’t do this anymore.

He can’t be alone anymore.

He’s so tired.

It feels like the walls are all surrounding him and they’re crushing him. He has no way out, not even upwards. There isn’t a light above that can give him hope. No one can save it, not even himself.

He needs to go. Where to? How?

The pain is too much for him to handle.

Peter wishes he could sleep. He hasn’t slept well in days. Likely since Tony left New York.

… he remembers that Tony left him some enhanced medication. Not necessarily for sleeping, but they help Peter sleep when he’s in pain. Maybe if he takes enough, he might be able to sleep faster.

The teenager simply takes the pot of pills and he doesn’t process how many he grabs and puts in his mouth. He swallows them all with one huge sip of water. The effects don’t happen in an instant; he gradually feels his mind spinning and the world around him blurring.

He drops in his bed, knocking something over. It reminds him of when the effects of the spider bite left him sick. He thought he was going to die.

Peter starts crying, realizing Aunt May and Uncle Ben aren’t here to take care of him.

He’s fading, he can tell.

He couldn’t even say goodbye. Or “I’m sorry” or “I love you”.

Peter can only hug the blanket, the only thing that is really there for him.

What he would give to have a hug from Tony now.

But Tony is not coming, is he?

The black hole inside Peter is sucking everything in. Soon, he won’t be there anymore.

Maybe this is for the best. For everyone.

… He can vaguely tell that his suit made a noise. He doesn’t know what it is, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

He’s going to sleep.

He’ll sleep now.

He’ll…

…

--

“... there you go, Peter. You’re going to be okay.”

A delicate hand is caressing his forehead.

It’s like something is burning his stomach all the way up.

And Peter releases the lava inside him.

It hurts so much that he cries.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

It all feels so vague, he doesn’t recall falling asleep.

Peter slowly blinks his eyes open. Someone is still there.

“Hi,” Aunt May smiles at him. Though she looks like she cried.

“May…?” Peter calls her. “Y-You’re… home earlier?”

Her smile fades a little. “Not exactly.”

“Huh? Wait…”

He finally realizes this isn’t his bedroom. He’s in a hospital room but not in any ordinary hospital. Peter is more than familiar with this place.

“... MedBay?” He asks. “Tower…?”

May nods. “You’re going to be okay. They were able to stop the medications from going too far. Tony had something under his sleeve.”

Peter’s eyes open a little more. “Tony?”

“Yes, he’ll be here soon. You missed him, right?”

“W-What do you mean? I-Is he actually here?”

May nods again. Peter doesn’t know what to feel.

“B-But… he was out of town…”

“He sent an armor to rescue you, but he’s already back home.”

This is what Peter wanted, right?

But not like this. How has Tony felt? Is he angry? Is he sad?

In fact, May doesn’t seem to be angry.

“Once he finishes talking to the doctors, he’ll be here,” she reassures Peter, who still doesn’t know how to take the news.

“I-I’m sorry, Aunt May. I’m sorry I did something so stupid…”

“Shhh… You’re going to be alright.” She hugs him but does not engulf him so as not to hurt her nephew.

Peter feels so selfish right now. And he doesn’t understand why May isn’t mad.

Once she lets go, she asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Really sick…”

May smooths his brown curls, looking pained. Like she wishes she could take away all of Peter’s suffering, when that’s impossible for anyone, even Peter himself.

Then he starts hearing outside noises. Fancy shoes of a businessman.

The door opens slowly…

“Hey there, underoos.”

Tony looks awful. He might still wear a fancy suit, but the shirt is messy and there’s no tie. The man looks like he aged a whole decade. He’s smiling yet he might have cried as much if not more than May did.

“M-Mr. Stark…” Peter tears up even more and it’s not clear if it’s out of relief or regret.

“It’s good to see you,” Tony says, swallowing a sigh.

May stands up so Tony sits next to the boy.

“It was quite a scare, huh?” His mentor observes, though not pointing any fingers at what caused the scare in the first place. Tony lowers his gaze for a moment. “I’m really sorry, Peter, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch–”

“No, Mr. Stark–”

“I knew you sent voicemails and I should’ve–”

“Y-You were busy, I get it… I’m sorry I made you come back.”

“Kid… you’ll always come first. You’re never going to make me do anything. You need help, so I’m going to help you, alright?”

“You can call me too, Peter,” May joins them. “I’ll do anything to get to you.”

The teen shakes his head. “Why aren’t you mad at me? W-Why won’t you hate me for… for being like this?”

“We’re not going to get mad when you need help,” Tony tells him. “Or when you’re in pain.”

“Why?”

“Because we love you, Peter,” May answers.

“Why?”

Loving me is just going to get you killed, he wants to add.

“Because you’re our kid, we love everything about you in all of your moments, no exceptions,” Tony still smiles for him.

At this point, Peter is unable to protest anymore. He bursts out in tears, and from each side, May and Tony wrap their arms around him. He can’t fathom to understand this readiness, this kind of comprehension.

Their top priority is to stay with Peter. That’s all that matters.

Soon enough, Tony convinces May to get some food. She doesn’t have to pay anything, he made sure of that. She grins at him gratefully, trusting him with Peter without even saying words. Once she leaves, Tony reveals some water he must have gotten for Peter. Problem is, he feels sick and he doesn’t want to throw up, but he definitely feels thirsty as well.

“Slowly, okay?" Tony instructs. "If you need to throw up, I have a bin right here."

Peter just takes a small sip. It’s kind of hard to swallow, but for now he doesn’t gag.

“Good job,” the hero compliments.

The boy sniffs. “H-How did you know?”

Tony suddenly looks tired.

“You were wearing your suit,” he replies simply.

“... Oh.”

I put everything in your suit.

“And… did you hear my voicemails?”

“All of them while I was on my way here.”

Peter groans. “Mr. Stark… Gosh, I’m so sorry for being clingy…”

“Well, would I be clingy to admit I missed you, too?”

“... You missed me?”

“Duh.”

Tony doesn’t sound that snarky admitting that. Neither does he joke that Peter is giving him gray hairs.

“I should’ve made that clearer, huh?”

“I-It’s okay–”

“Seriously, kid. I should’ve been more present. I promise you I’ll remind you more often that I remember you and that you’re not annoying me.”

Peter reflects.

“... Do I really mean that much?”

“You have no idea.”

Peter would’ve blushed if he weren’t so drained out.

He relaxes a little more. But there is a question in his head right now.

“... What is going to happen to me?”

Tony seems to be ready for that question.

“Well, you won’t be Spider-Manning for a while, and you’re not going to be alone. We’ll see how you’ll be tomorrow, but I’m certain that you didn’t have any serious complications. I had the right antidote. You might just feel sick for a few days, though.”

Peter ponders. “Y-You’re not going to send me away, right? To that place?”

Hearing the fear in his voice, Tony sits closer to him to also pat his head.

“No, kiddo. I’ll make sure you have the best treatment, alright?” He ensures. “And I promise no one is going to hurt you or isolate you.”

Peter has heard about psych wards and how hostile they can be. And he cannot imagine what it would be like for someone with mutant powers there.

“Me, your aunt, everyone is going to be there for you at every step of the process. We’ll figure it out slowly. And you’re not going to feel instantly better, and that’s okay. Don’t be afraid to tell us when you’re not feeling okay or if we mess up. We’ll listen. Okay, Peter?”

Tony always sounds so certain and determined when it comes to Peter. The latter will never truly understand that. But he nods and accepts it.

“Okay.”

The man, once again, hugs him. This time for a little longer.

Peter has some strength to hug back with one arm.

“... I love you,” he whispers. “I-I love you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony doesn’t respond at first…

Then he’s tightening his grip a little bit.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

And Peter can hear thousands of other words in it. Tony doesn’t have to say them.

The boy cries again.

Not only because Peter could finally say it… But most importantly, he’s alive to actually hear it back from Tony.

It won’t get rid of the black hole… but it will help Peter manage it.

[darthgloris]

SNAP (Alicia Sierra x fem!reader)

A/N: I got this really cute idea for an Alicia Sierra fic and I just can't get it out of my head so I have to start writing it or I won't be at peace-

Song: SNAP - Rosa Linn (the three dots will be in red when you should start the song)

Warnings: childbirth, violence, heartbreak, fluff, SPOILERS

Summary: During the Bank of Spain heist, Y/N a.k.a. Varsòvia sees her ex-girlfriend Alicia Sierra again and the heartbreak comes back to her.

Pairing(s): Alicia Sierra x reader, Palermo x reader (platonic)

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

I got into the heist game for the second time with the idea that it was going to be clean: get in, get the gold, get out, saving Rio in the process. No casualties, no personal feelings, no strings attached.

Boy, was I wrong.

I was good friends with Palermo, he was fun and easy to talk to. We didn't have much in common until one subject came up: gay woes. It was quick to figure out each other's sexualities, I could see the way he'd look at Berlín and he noticed how I'd make eyes at Rio or Nairobi every once in a while. The real emotional connection came when we shared our most painful moments.

...

"Palermo", I called his name and sat next to him, my legs dangling over the brick wall he was sitting on. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Varsòvia, I'm fine." He replied, hoping that I would drop it, but I could see the hurt behind his eyes.

"No, you're not fine, cariño. I can hear you at night, screaming and crying and drinking yourself numb. That's not 'fine'." I argued, although trying not to force him.

"Okay, señora Holmes, I'm not fine." He replied mockingly.

"Tell me what's going on." I rested my hand on his and gave him a comforting smile.

He let out a sad sigh and waited a few moments before speaking. "Before Berlín left for the first heist, he confronted me about my feelings for him. He said that he loved me too, that we were 99% soulmates, but he refused to get together. I asked him what was 1% against 99, and he still told me no. I pushed him a bit to try it and we kissed. Then he pushed me against the wall and kissed me again, but when he pulled away he broke my heart, put his hat on and left. I was leaning on the wall, crying, and I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take the pain. I cried all my tears out, screamed, drank, and fell asleep. It was a vicious cycle that continued for months, that still goes on."

I gave him a side hug and he rested his head on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, honey. I really am."

"Thanks. You know, you're a really good listener," he pointed out.

"Well, I don’t talk much, so," I replied.

"And what about you? What was your worst heartbreak?" He asked.

I bit my lip as I remembered the most painful breakup of my life. How I'd cry myself to sleep, hoping she'd come back to me. I wondered how she was now, what kind of life she was leading; I desperately wanted to know if she was happy, if she got what she was looking for that she didn't find in me, if she got what she deserved.

"Alicia Sierra. She was everything I wasn't: loud, confident, dominating. On the outside, she seemed like a real son of a bitch, but when we were alone she'd turn into the sweetest thing."

"Was she pretty?"

"Oh, she was the eight wonder of the world," I smiled softly. "Long red hair, pale skin, freckles, beautiful smile, green eyes... you'd look in those eyes and fall under her spell. She was the doe that was more cunning than the fox itself."

"What happened?"

"June 22nd, 2015. She broke up with me, she didn't even give an explanation. You have no idea of how much I loved her, Palermo. She was the most important thing in my life, I treated her as if she was made of glass, I gave her my beating heart on a platter and she just... threw it away. I stopped eating and drinking for days, I couldn’t sleep, it was as if time was passing by and I was still blocked in that moment." I swallowed the lump in my throat and I felt Palermo's hand rubbing circles on my back.

...

When I found out that the leading inspector was Alicia, I was so shocked I could barely even speak. After all those years of longing for the doe-eyed beauty, I found myself having to be on her opposite side, shooting her men, deceiving her boss, playing against her. And pregnant, no less.

I had looked through the window that day, where she gazed up at me with her twinkling eyes and tantalising soft smile which never failed to weaken my knees. I had found it in myself to smile back, tearing up slightly. I turned away from the window so that she wouldn't see.

God, how I missed her. And she looked so beautiful, all dolled up. She really was the eighth wonder of the world, the fucking Princess Diana of the 2020's. How stupid I was for letting her go, for letting her leave with no explanation. If only I had known, I would have hugged her and never let her go; I would have kissed her until my lungs were on the brink of giving out.

They say that you never stop loving someone, no matter how bad they hurt you. That the strong feelings you have for a person are destined to fade over time, but never to pass entirely.

I thought I had gotten over Alicia years ago, that she didn't matter to me anymore, that I had moved on. The truth was that my feelings for her had faded, but not disappeared, as our "encounter" had demonstrated. When I closed my eyes I could still picture her arms around my waist as we watched a movie cuddled up on the couch. Alicia had hurt me, she had ripped my heart out with no explanation, and that was unforgivable, but now it didn’t matter: she was right under my nose once again. Overworked, pregnant and widowed.

I didn’t just want her back, I needed her back, and I needed her now.

...

Banco de España - current day

"I told you I'd kill you."

The single shot boomed through the room and Nairobi dropped to the ground with a bullet wound on her forehead.

"NAIROBI!" I yelled and ran over to her. My vision clouded with tears and I clutched her to me while she bled out. I sobbed and sobbed, hurting my throat, but that was the last of my concerns.

Nairobi was gone, and so were the last bits of hope I still had.

"Nairobi..." I whined. "I'm sorry, sweetness... I-I promised... I promised you I'd keep you safe, I'd keep you alive and I failed you..."

Palermo had to pry me off her to take her away. I tried to get out of his strong grip but failed, until I stopped fighting and let him hug me. He squeezed me tightly to his chest and started crying as well.

"I'm going to kill Gandìa... I'm going to find the bastard and fucking gut him... that's a promise I intend to keep..." I said, the tremble in my voice betraying my words. Palermo held me tighter and stroked my head in an attempt to comfort me.

"I know, cariño, I know, shh... I'm here, I'm here..." He shushed soothingly.

"Gandìa, hijo de la gran puta!"

...

The moonlight passed through the hole the sniper bullet created when Nairobi was shot.

I checked my watch: it read 4:00 a.m. As I looked through the window I tried to picture Alicia standing there, smiling up at me just like she used to when we were together; those were a few of the best years of my life. I remembered how I used to comfort her after she had a nightmare, when I wrapped my arms around her waist and combed through her fringe with my fingers to calm her as she nuzzled into my neck.

Months after the breakup, I'd tell my friends and family about it and they'd just reply with "just let her go", or "she wasn't good enough for you", or even "move on, just snap your fingers". I knew that all I needed was time, but they couldn't understand that, they couldn't understand that Alicia was the love of my life, that she was probably the only person that I could say that about.

I tried what they told me: I snapped my fingers once, twice; nothing. She was still in my heart, and there was nothing I could do about it. Three, four times: I thought I didn’t need her anymore, but she wasn't going to stop meaning something to me any sooner.

I bit my lip as I looked at the police tent and thought about the pain I went through. Countless of hours in the rain, as if freezing myself to the bone would have changed anything. I didn’t want that to happen again, but maybe it didn't have to: if I could just figure out why she left me I could work on it.

And right then and there, a single idea occupied my mind.

A crazy one.

I found a rope in the room and used it to slowly and silently drop myself out of the bank. I started taking long, fast steps towards the tent, when the reality switch turned: I was a robber and Alicia was the inspector, there was no point in her being happy to see me again if she was forced to arrest me immediately.

So I turned away from the Bank and walked in the direction that would take me to the stormwater tank.

...

A few days later

My rain boots splashed through the water on the floor of the stormwater tank as I took quick steps towards the door, excited to see the Professor again. I opened the door slowly and stepped inside. Behind the entrance, a gun cocked. "Jaque mate, hijo de puta," I heard and my breathing quickened. Who the hell was that?

My instincts immediately responded: I pulled my gun out of my pocket, cocked it and stormed into the room, pointing it at the woman's head. She immediately spun on her heels, her long red hair fluttering in the process, and pointed her own weapon at me.

When I recognised her face, my hands stopped functioning and my gun fell to the ground; my knees felt like they were about to crumple and my body started trembling.

Alicia. Alicia Sierra.

She was back, she was in front of me right now.

"A-Alicia..?" I breathed out, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Joder, realmente eres tú..."

"Si, realmente soy yo, Y/N," She smiled softly.

It took every ounce of energy in me to not jump into her arms, because of the baby and of the time we've been apart; I wasn't sure how she was going to take a hug from me right now.

"How, um-" I cleared my throat. "How's the baby?"

"It's okay. I just... hope it gets to meet you soon." She said. I felt my heart swell at the words, and for some miracle, my legs still didn't give out. The dominant and confident energy she emitted made me almost trip over my own feet while I tried to walk to the bathroom, my breath shaking.

I knew she was going to be focused on interrogating the Professor so I closed the door and let out long, unsteady breaths, crying silently. I didn't want her to see me cry, not just yet. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I didn’t care. I was tired enough to fall asleep on the floor.

...

I woke up and my ears were met with pained moans and screams.

Alicia.

I immediately perked up and rushed out of the bathroom, the door slamming against the wall, startling everyone in the room. Benjamin, the Professor and Marseille were all tied up, but I was able to brush past that.

The love of my life was about to give birth, and she was about to do it alone.

I couldn’t let that happen.

"Alicia!" I said and ran over to her. "Ali, what the hell are you doing?"

"I-" She screamed in pain. "I have to give birth to this kid..."

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, breathe with me," I knelt down next to her and she looked me in the eyes as she tried to follow my breathing pattern. She was extremely sweaty and her hair was stuck to her forehead, but to me, she still looked divine. I found the courage to dry her face with my sleeve, and her gaze was still fixated on me, only her eyes softened at my gesture.

"Let me help you," I offered gently.

"No, I can do this," she argued.

"What if there are complications? What will you do then?"

"Screw complications, Y/N, I'm fine."

"Damn it, Sierra, why are you so stubborn?! Just let me help you!"

She sighed in defeat. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

"Well, you know me," I slightly tilted my head and smiled at her. She smiled back at me, chuckling softly. That certainly classified as a victory.

I walked her through the process: I hated to see her in pain, so I did my best to make this easy on her. It surprised me how comfortable she was at my touch, I thought she was going to be distrusting, like she was when we first met. That was the second victory.

She started pushing and the screams were getting worse; I felt like crying, wishing that there was anything I could do to ease her pain, to make her feel better. Unfortunately, there wasn't, so I needed to stay strong and comfort her instead.

"Shit, the baby's breech," I cursed.

"I'm guessing that med school pulled through." She said, straining. It astounded me how in the middle of one one of the most painful moments of a woman's life, she'd still act confident and plaster that annoyingly charming smirk on her face.

"You two know each other?" Professor asked.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," I replied sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, but his curiosity didn't back down. "How do you know each other?"

I sighed, "Well, if you must know, she's my ex-girlfriend." I replied, trying to focus on pulling out the baby safely.

"Varsòvia, why didn’t you tell me?"

"It wasn’t important."

"How is it not important? You have a direct emotional connection with the leading inspector of the heist, of course it's important!"

"I'm a little busy here, can I ignore you some other time?"

I pulled the baby out and carefully wrapped her in a towel, her cries mixing with Alicia's heavy breaths. I gently put the baby in her arms and leaned my head on hers, sighing out of relief.

Alicia nuzzled into me and looked up at me, smiling. "Thank you."

I smiled back and ran my fingers through her red hair. "Don't mention it."

...

A lot of messed up shit later

The Professor, Alicia and I managed to escape the police's martial law. For now.

The apartment was empty, except for the delightful company of a ginger cat, who happened to be the friendliest I had ever met. Right now, it was cuddled up on the couch with Alicia, a sight that made me smile softly. The Professor went on the hunt for mobiles, anything with a signal, while I checked on little Victoria once again.

When the little girl caught sight of me, she gurgled. I smiled sweetly at her. "Hey, Victoria. Maybe when you'll be big you won't remember all of this chaos, and amen to that. You wouldn't want to remember if you had any idea of what's going. Trust me, your mommy is crazy enough to tell you all about this once you'll be old enough," I chuckled. "She might be crazy enough to tell you about me. I was your mommy's girlfriend, you know? And I loved her, very much, just like you do. I still love her. I guess this is a shitty timing, isn't it? In the middle of the fucking heist, where she was supposed to turn us in ages ago, I'm in love with her as if on the moment I laid eyes on her. That might just be because I'm not strong enough to let things go, I find good things in my life and desperately cling onto them until I make them sick and they leave me for good. Because that's what happened, honey. Sometimes heartbreak is just too much and you're so bent down under it you become stupid enough to get completely away from society and grieve on your own, you know?" A few tears silently flowed down my cheeks and I sniffled. "Of course you don't know. Look at me, I'm so screwed up that I'm unloading my emotional baggage on a day-old baby," I cried softly, burying my face in my hands. "Oh, thank God you don't understand a single word of what I'm saying because this would be the best thing to blackmail me for."

"You were never good with kids," her voice spoke behind me and I froze in place. I couldn’t find the courage to face her, so I took deep breaths until I spun on my heels slowly.

"Well, I'm shit with people in general," I countered, making her chuckle again. "How much of that did you hear?"

"About all of it."

"Joder," I sighed and hid my face in my hands out of embarrassment, blushing furiously.

Alicia stepped closer to me and gently pulled my hands away from my face, drying my falling tears while smiling softly.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. You didn't make anybody sick, honey. It wasn’t your problem, it was mine. I was young and stupid and scared of what could happen next and I treated you like trash in the process. Don't blame yourself for the shit I did, okay?"

I nodded in response and shakily breathed out. "I-I'm sorry... you weren't supposed to hear any of that and I'm sorry-"

"Sweetness, do you remember what I used to tell you about the apologising?"

"Sorry..."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her action.

"You're sorry for what? For loving me? There's nothing wrong with that, and it's not in your control."

"It's okay if you have feelings for me. It's normal, and it's beautiful of you. I think you're an attractive woman as well, and I like you, and you like me. There's nothing wrong with that, the heart wants what it wants." That was what she said to me when I first told her I liked her. I remember I had little to no experience with same-sex relationships and until then had been faced with either rejection or lack of empathy or both, all of this affection and understanding had made me feel appreciated.

"I know, I just-" She cut me off with a loving, passionate kiss.

"Honey, shush," she chuckled. "I love you, too."

My eyes filled with tears again and I kissed her once more, caressing her face sweetly.

...

After the end of the heist

The walk from the helicopter to the gang was the most heartfelt moment ever.

For some miracle, we got out alive, thank God the Professor always had a backup plan. Unfortunately, not all of us made it. Oslo, Moskù, Berlín, sweet Nairobi and Tokyo were all left behind in the two heists. I would never forgive myself for what happened to them, for not saving them, none of us ever would. But what was important was that we made it, although not together as we thought, to the end of the heist.

The first person I hugged was Palermo: I leapt into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist while he supported me with his hands. The love I felt for Palermo was completely platonic, given both our sexualities, but he was one of the most important people to me in the gang. He was my best friend, my safe haven, my protector, my genius.

"We did it, Palermo," I sniffled.

He wiped the falling tears from my face. "We did it, sweetheart."

After him, I embraced the happy couple, Sergio and Raquel. I congratulated the two for their engagement, earning a sweet "thank you" from both. "And thank you, Sergio, for this." I said sincerely, smiling and pecking his cheek. He smiled back and I hugged Raquel, who silently cried in my arms, sad to say goodbye.

Then came Rio. I hugged the kid so hard, I was surprised he wasn't out of air. I cried in his shoulder and he squeezed me with the same force. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save Tokyo," I said from the bottom of my heart. "Don't blame yourself, Varsòvia. It wasn’t your fault." I held his face in my hands and kissed his cheek as he cried harder and buried his own face in my shoulder.

I gave a brief hug to everyone else, wiping their tears and rubbing their backs. I was going to miss the gang, the group of people that opened a new chapter in my life, the best friends I'd ever had.

A car pulled up outside; the door opened and a flash of red came out. My eyes immediately lit up: Alicia was here with us. I rushed towards her and tackled her in a hug, to which she chuckled and hugged back with the same strength. She pressed out foreheads together and I let out a sigh of content, happy to finally be in her arms again.

She said her goodbyes to Sergio and Raquel, giving an embrace to the former and a handshake to the latter. He handed her her new identity with a smile, "There's one for Victoria as well." She thanked him and approached the car. I looked at her like a sad puppy, not knowing what to do. Should I go after her or stay with the gang?

I looked at Palermo for advice: he just nodded his head towards Alicia. "Go on," he encouraged, smiling. I gazed back at Alicia, admiring her green doe eyes and tantalising smile and rushed back to Palermo, giving him one last squeeze.

"Don't hesitate, honey," he advised. "You two are clearly meant to be."

"Thank you," I cried. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"Me too, Varsòvia, me too. Now go on, don't keep your lady waiting."

I smiled at him and caught Alicia's wrist before she could open the door to the car. She looked at me in surprise and I slammed my lips on hers, cupping her cheek as I brought her closer to me. The gang whooped and cheered as we kissed and she pulled me to the car. While she talked to the Professor, Palermo caught my gaze and gave me a knowing wink, making me blush slightly and grin at him again.

I waved goodbye to the gang as Alicia started driving off.

"So, where are we off to?" I asked her.

She rested her hand on mine, smiling at me. "Wherever we want, honey."

There was a moment of silence between us, a completely comfortable pause. It was one of the things I loved about being with her: the silence between us was never uncomfortable.

"You look beautiful." I blurted out, regretting it at first.

She chuckled, "Thanks. You used to say that a lot when we were together."

"Because it's true. And I will continue to say it forever."

"Forever? That's how long you're willing to stay with me?" She teased.

"With you and Victoria? I'd spend all my time with you two, no questions asked."

She smiled, moved, and surprised at how I turned her tease around into a sweet moment.

"I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you, too."

[marshmallow-biscuit-blog]

No Sleep For the Scared

The fire engulfed her as she clutched to her spear.  She looked up, down, left, right, forward and back, but only flames.  She felt her metal practically melt as she squinted her burning eyes.  Where was he?  How’d she get here again?  She didn’t remember, and didn’t want to, she just wanted to get out of this ring of torture.  

A silhouette.  She ran towards it, feeling the metal finally drip as it singed her arms and she cried out in pain.- - - Chalice sat up in bed and gasped for air.  She clutched her arm, but was relieved to feel it cooling down some.  Though, just like in the dream of course, it had melted some.  She pulled her sleeve down.  Well, she wasn’t going to sleep for a while now.  Chalice got out of bed and walked as quietly as she could to the living room.  If she was out there and put the radio on low, she could stay awake. / / / Tea stirred awake from the quiet footsteps.  She never would’ve before, but there was something about being an active mother that heightened her senses, especially if it had to do with one of her kids, blood or not.  She got up to peek through the door to see who it was.  She recognized the shadow as Chalice’s.  

Carefully, she closed the door and walked down the hall to see Chalice putting the radio at a low volume, and sitting, kicking her feet. Tea walked over loud enough so it wouldn’t exactly scare Chalice when she spoke.  “Hey.  Whatcha’ doin’ up?  Can’t sleep?” She asked as she sat across from her. “... I don’t wanna sleep.” Chalice mumbled after a moment.  

Tea frowned as she crossed her leg and clasped her hands.  “Well, ya’ gotta sleep, hon’.” She said softly.  “Are you having any nightmares?”  

Chalice looked up now, a little surprised that her adoptive mother deduced it that quickly.  Maybe it was instinct?  “How’d you know?” Tea shrugged.  “I didn’t.  I just get the same way when I have a bad dream.  Not that I can’t go back to sleep, it’s that I don’t wanna have the same dream.”  As Chalice nodded, she asked, “Do you… wanna talk about it?” Chalice was kind of frozen.  She didn’t ever tell anyone about her nightmares. “It’ll sound like a bunch of malarkey…”

“I’ll still listen, even if I don’t understand.” Tea claimed in a gentle tone.  It was unusual to hear her so quiet, she was always so boisterous and loud.  It was a side of her that showed she could calm down and care.  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine too of course.” Chalice wrung her wrists as she looked off to the side.  “Okay.  But it’s… scary.  And creepy…”  She straightened out on the chair as she pulled her sleeve back to reveal the melted metal.  The immediate alarm in Tea’s eyes made Chalice feel guilty. 

“What happened?” Tea had asked quickly and sternly, but there was still an obvious caring tone in her voice.  She had stood up to get a closer look.  “Who did this to you?” She asked, leading her to the kitchen as she grabbed a medical kit from a cupboard. “M-My dream?” Chalice questioned herself.  “I don’t know, I-I have these dreams that I’m a different person.  A-and whatever happens to t-that person, happens to me in real life.” Her voice began to shake.  “T-There was fire in this one, a-and her metal was m-melting.  So mine did too.” Tea wanted to believe her, but- how would that make sense?  It shouldn’t be possible- it isn’t possible!   But- there it was. “Are… are you sure you didn’t just burn yourself on accident earlier today and forget about it?”  She shook her head, “No, you would remember if you burnt yourself…” She got a cold wet rag and placed it against Chalice’s arm, surprised to feel the heat radiating off of it.  ‘There’s so many ridiculous things in this world, Teaghan, why would dream burns be odd to you?’ she thought to herself.  She cleaned out the burn, then put some kind of pain relieving ointment on and wrapped it up.  “Try not to touch it, I know, it’ll itch soon.  But just try not to touch it.” “C-Can you not tell anyone? Please?” Chalice pleaded.  “Especially not Dad?  Because he’ll freak out and the boys will make fun of me for-” “Nobody’s going to make fun of you for it.  I’ll make sure of that.”  Tea said protectively, putting a hand on Chalice’s cheek.  “But, I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want me to.  Your secret’s safe with me unless I tell you otherwise.”  She paused a moment before holding Chalice’s hands gently.  “We’ll figure this out, okay? Let's get you back to bed.”

Chalice was still in shock of how gentle she was being treated about the whole thing.  Those nasty penguins in the orphanage would’ve beat her with their rulers for this.  For a single tear about this.  She looked at Tea and nodded.  “O-okay.”