#(they will at least be able to think and move fast enough to escape it. but if you put them in a situation where that can't be done)

[majestyeverlasting]

"you're cute when you're jealous" for carmy x reader please <3

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨

pairing carmen berzatto x reader summary as the evening winds down, you can’t help but notice the flicker of jealousy in Carmy’s eyes, aimed at the one guest who stays behind. but when the door finally shuts, it’s you he’s pulling close. [fluff, wc 1.3k] a/n this is my first carmy fic even though i love the bear—thanks so much!

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

It’s late. The curtains should’ve been drawn hours ago, but they’re open for all of Chicago to stare straight into the window of you and Carmen’s new apartment. If the downtown lights outside weren’t so pretty, you reckon you’d mind a whole lot more. 

Time had escaped both of you. The small housewarming crowd that once flitted throughout the space had found their way back home. Everyone except Mikey. He sits on the opposite end of the couch as you, and you watch through tired eyes as he shakes out his hair and combs through it with his fingers. It’s longer than you’ve ever seen it. 

A steady sizzle rises from the kitchen as Carmen makes grilled cheeses. Mikey catches your gaze, and that lighthearted glimmer is ever-alive in his eyes. There’s something unreadable just beneath the surface. Something weighted and a little more permanent these days. 

“Think I’m gonna chop it all off,” he says. The way your brows lift in surprise makes him laugh and tilt his head back against the cushions. 

“Why?” you ask softly, smiling at the exaggerated way he shrugs. 

Mikey was like that sometimes. He’d make a statement just bold enough to get a reaction, then watch and wait. He lived for being able to shift the energy of a room, if only for a second. That’s part of what made it easy to fall into his orbit—always knowing he’d find a way to break the monotony of a moment in a way only he could. 

He leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “You don’t think I got the head shape for it or something?” he asks. 

“That’s not what I—” 

“Nah, I get it,” he lifts his hands. “I see how it is.” 

You can’t help the helpless laugh that escapes you. The sweet sound prompts Carmen to look up from the stove. An unfamiliar look flickers across his face, but you don’t pin what it is until his jaw ticks and he refocuses on the stove. 

A strange feeling licks in Carmen’s chest. It’d been a long day, he was starting his new job at Ever soon, and the world at large seemed to be moving all too fast. Yet Mikey had this singular ability to draw levity out of nothing. Some nights, Carmen wishes he were half as capable. 

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” you tell Mikey, wrinkling your nose at him. “The length suits you, is all.” 

Mikey relaxes back into the couch. The energy in the air shifts. “Think I’m just ready for a change,” he sighs. 

You nod because you get it. “Change is good.” You think for a moment. “It can be, at least.”  

“If we make it?” Mikey prompts, smiling in that small, contemplative way of his. 

“Exactly.” 

“Order up,” Carmen announces. 

Over sandwiches, the three of you fall into sharing memories that never grew old. So much has changed in your lives. It had gotten to the point where it was way easier to talk about what once was as opposed to what could be. All the dreams and wishes in the world couldn’t fill the blank slate of the future. You’d each have to pick up a pen and forge the path forward yourselves. 

Mikey leaves after a while. The air becomes stiller than it’s been all night, and you almost miss the buzz. Carmen pads to the kitchen sink to wash the skillet he’d just used. His mind has drifted off just far enough not to hear your footsteps approach. When you wrap your arms around his waist, he stiffens, then relaxes in your hold. 

“Hey, you,” you murmur. 

“Hey.” He leans forward slightly to scrub at the small patches of crusted cheese. “Lemme finish this, okay?” 

For a second, you consider pulling away, but your better judgment wills you against it. Carmen continues to move, even with your arms snug around his waist. He can’t deny this is preferred. Your perfume mingles with the lingering scent of butter and cheese.

He loves you so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself half the time. Every once in a while, that small voice in the back of his head reminded him of all the things he wasn’t. That wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t believe you were deserving of every good thing. 

You release Carmen long enough for him to bend down to position the skillet back in the cabinet. Upon standing to his full height, he faces you. His curls are beautifully disheveled and his tired blue eyes take you in. You study each other for a few quiet moments, then he outstretches his arms to coax you forward. You step into his embrace without second thought. 

He gives you a good, steady squeeze. You could bathe in his warmth forever. 

“I love you.” He says it like you’re somehow not aware. You lift up to meet his gaze. “I’ve been a downer lately, and I promise it’s not on purpose. Even during the party a bit. I know it meant a lot to you, and sometimes my face gives away the five million thoughts rushing through my head—”

“Carmy,” you lilt. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” His brows raise in earnest.

“You’re not a downer,” you say. “You’re just you.” 

He huffs a humorless laugh. “Oh.” 

You chuckle, then bite your lip. “Not in a bad way,” you say. “I just mean that I didn’t expect you to be bouncing off the walls and smiling like you just won the lotto. That’s not you and it’s fine,” you assure. 

“Thanks for making the food for everyone.” You comb the hair off his forehead. “Grilled cheeses included.” 

Carmen shakes his head like it’s no big deal. Like he’d have done it even if you hadn’t asked. Food was one of the few things in this life he could wield total control over—even more so than himself at times.  

“I love you too,” you finally say. 

His stomach flutters when you press your lips to his. The kiss is slow, sweet, and shorter lived than he expects. His fingers curl where they’ve settled on your waist and a playful smile starts on your lips. 

“You wanna know something?” 

He hums. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

Carmen frowns until realization dawns. He remembers Mikey and your laughter. He tries to lower his head, but you catch his chin with your index finger, and he helplessly looks into your eyes. He’s only partly sure the feeling that surged through him was jealousy. If it was, it didn’t sting deep. It was instead mixed with something akin to admiration. There was a brief period during their childhood when he wanted to do everything Mikey did and and be everything he was. That younger, impressionable boy was still embedded within him somewhere deep down. 

“I wasn’t,” he mumbles. 

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt and scratch across his lower stomach. His muscles jump beneath your touch. “Then what were you, bear?”  

He touches his forehead to yours. “I liked it better when we were kissing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

His hands are warm and gentle as he cups your face and captures your lips again. He can feel you smiling, and it makes him smile too. You’d been within reach all evening, but he’d missed you even then. It was nice finally having you all to himself. 

“Love you,” he whispers into the kiss. 

You gently nip his bottom lip. “Said that already.”

And he’d say it again and again because it’s one of the most important truths he’d ever known. There were endless possibilities waiting in this next chapter of life with you. 

-

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔. 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒑. ♡

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

CARMEN MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

[swordymacaroni]

Break Up With ME, I'm Bored -_-

summary- how do the jjk men react to you saying "lets break up"(as a joke)?

pairings- nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader, geto x reader

warnings- swearing, suggestive?, threats of murder

requested by-@hrts4hanniehae

NANAMI

“noooooo! come backkk” you protest as you sleepily tug on nanami’s arm. you’re both nestled in warm, cozy sheets. that is, until nanami’s alarm beckons him to go do his fuckass job.

nanami looks down at you, his hair mussed and sticking up, a boyish smile softening his features. “can’t sweetheart. i have work. not all of us can be this abhorrently clingy.”

he leans over to kiss your forehead before he sees your eyebrows draw together. you pull the covers over you, thoughtful. 

“what, honey?”

“oh, nothing, ken. you’re right. i’m too clingy and i’m hindering your career. we should break up.”

no alarm clock could wake kento up as fast as that statement did. 

“what? honey, no. oh god, please don’t. i would never mean it like that. you’re-you’re what makes me want to come home after a long day, I couldn’t-wouldn’t do this without you here, sweetheart-”

your cackle interrupts his panicked speech. 

“kennn. i was kidding! go get ready, you’re going to be late.”

he simply lies back down, pulling you into his arms. “go to work? after that? i certainly don’t think so.”

he sends a quick text to his team that he won’t be able to make it today due to an emergency of the utmost importance.

he lounges with you until noon, talking about nothing and everything,  before he makes you  pancakes, caging you between him and the stove, pressing kisses to your shoulders every once in a while.

you assure him that he does, in fact make enough time for you, and he’s free to go to work tomorrow. he asks if you’re sure at least ten times before he agrees.

(he takes you on a two week trip to malasia the very next day)

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

SUKUNA

you stare at sukuna as he sips his tea (it doesn’t look or smell like tea, but you’ll be happier not knowing what it actually is). 

“what?” he asks without sparing you a glance.

“can i come to the advisory meeting with you?”

“why?”

“because… uh, it’s fun and i like hearing people’s perspectives.”

He smirks. "or is it because you follow me every waking breath?”

you squint. “wow, ok. say that when i break up with you and move to the other side of the country.”

he sips his tea. “no.”

“excuse me?”

his hand comes up to cup your nape, eyes holding yours captive. “you simply cannot escape me. every place you go. i come along. every home you make. i adorn it for you. every man you touch.” his eyes darken. “i erase for you.”

“hey sukuna so what the fuck?”

he brings your hand to his mouth, nipping at your fingers almost threateningly. “you will join me for my advisory meeting. and then for dinner. and then for my evening stroll. i require you beside me at all times. all the time.”

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

TOJI

you chuck a pillow at toji, which he deflects without looking up from where he’s cleaning his gun.

“oh my gosh! if you spent as much time with me as you do with the gun, i’d be pregnant with twins by now,” you pout.

he casts you a sidelong glance. “i can make that happen.”

you let out a shriek of frustration. “put the gun down and come upstairs.“

he tuts. “can't have you getting so needy on me, girl. how do I function with you being a koala?.”

your mouth falls open. “wow. ok. expect my side of the bed to be empty tomorrow. you shall receive an invitation to my wedding with a tall funny finance bro.”

toji laughs, but it has an edge to it. “won’t happen, doll.”

you jut out your lower lip. “hell you mean it won’t? i totally have game, you know-”

“it won’t because every man you look at will end up with a hole in his head. i don’t think you’d want that.”

he cocks his gun nonchalantly. 

“ toji. You know you’re psychotic, right?”

he grins before planting a wet kiss on your cheek. “the better to love you with, doll.”

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

GETO

you throw your arms around geto with a little sound of joy. he has to drop his cup of coffee to catch you. he tuts, his arms still around your waist. “come on, pretty. so needy you can’t even wait for me to literally enter the house and put my drink down?”

you stiffen as you untangle yourself from him, sighing. “You’re right, geto.”

“he frowns. “geto? what happened to sugu?”

you shrug. “i can’t call my to-be ex sugu.”

his entire body tenses as he looks down at you. “i’m sorry?”

you tug on a strand of your hair. “oh you know, you don’t want me to be so obsessed with you, so i’ll have to respect your boundaries and break up.”

his hands are threaded in your hair as he’s backing you up against the wall. “no, pretty. you’re not leaving. not like this. not ever. you want me to carry you around the village and kiss you like the world is ending in front of my followers? done. no second thoughts.  you want me to abandon them and become a hermit with you for the rest of time? fucking absolutely. just don’t want those words to leave your pretty mouth again.”

you open and close your mouth, shocked. “sugu, I was literally just joking…”

he hums noncomitally as he saunters away. “pass me the mop, pretty? have to clean up some coffee.”

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

a/n- this is butt booty cheeks but uhh

[badsopen]

You Can run, But You Can't Hide...

Yandere!Mark Grayson x Superpowered!Reader

A/N : The reader in this has a teleportation power, not interdimensional teleportation but like regular teleportation, and they can phase through walls, obviously in this dimension Mark joined his dad and he doesn't want to kill you either

Hiding with Robot and Adam Eve's group wasn't ideal. Resources were scarce. People scared and paranoid whether they got to live another day or not; but going back and forth from one part of the planet to another wasn't sustainable either, especially since with how fast the both of them can travel; it'd only be a few minutes of resting time before you had to teleport again. So, after narrowly escaping Nolan's death grip in Honduras, you made the decision to move back up north even to settle down in the sewers to have more than thirty minutes to cool down.

But you had spotted one of the freedom fighters and followed him back to the underground base, he was clumsy and loud. It wouldn't be long until they found this place. Finding Adam and Robot telling them was the best you could do for them; they were surprised to say the least. After all a hand straight through your chest should've killed you; but with the combination of teleporting and phasing an escape was granted to you. However, not without a cost, your heart was weak, Nolan had grazed the front of your heart and thinned the muscle there. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, just pop on down to Cecil and he'd have you fixed up in no time. So, your life was on a schedule, it was a rough estimate…maybe a year? Two if you were able to properly rest without the teleporting at all.

Adam convinced you to say, sweetly said it was to treat your injuries, but Robot had made it clear it was for you to help out gathering resources and getting as many people as possible out of here in case this place was found. No matter, it was nice of them to give you a place to recover after Robot had fixed up your heart. The scar was a thin long line, from the top of your throat to the underside of your belly button. It was overkill you were sure of it, but even after waking up after the pain of being ripped open, you still were in better health, than teleporting in fear of being caught and killed.

You were inside of a subway car, practicing teleporting instantly from one side of the room to the other side, it was going to take a couple of days of practicing to build up to longer distances again. It was nicer not having a time frame of when you were going to die, or having hope for the future that wasn't under the Viltrum Empire.

It was short lived however..

There was rumbling coming from the roof of the underground train station, at first it was dismissible-just buildings crumbling to the ground, but after the screaming started to pick up and then people rushing by the car it was obvious. They had found this place, and they were going to kill everyone in this place.

Rushing out of the car, you saw that they had split themselves up, Nolan was fighting Robot and Adam Eve was fighting Mark. Omni Man had made quick work of Robot and the other people who were unlucky enough to behind him after he was rushed. Teleporting to Robot after Omni Man had delivered his last words to Robot, you had told him that you would 'take care of it and not to worry'. His voice was rasped and hard to make out with the screaming, but the message was delivered a simple Don't fail.

Looking around for the both of them wasn't hard, just follow the fear induced screams was more than enough to be pointed in the right direction.

Mark had his hand around Eve's neck, they were talking to each other. Her hands are on his wrist... and then a snap...he broke her neck. Omni man is up there now he's saying something, Mark is shaking his head not as he puts Eves' body down. They're still talking to each other.

Both of their heads snap in your direction, FUCK they saw you! Before you can think of a place to teleport to Nolan rushes you bursting the people in-between you both like bloody pimples. He lifts you in the air by your neck. Mark slowly floats his way down to you and his father.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here" Nolan grimaces slightly "especially with how keen you were to get away from the city."

His voice was monotone and short. It was hard to see where this conversation would go. You try and keep yourself levelheaded knowing that one wrong move will get you killed or captured by the of them.

"I can't stay away from home for to long."

A nervous smile came across your cracked lips, hurting but not bleeding. The grip Omni Man had on your throat was tight, keeping you suspended in the air by your throat was starting to expose the scar. A flush of air meant that Invincible had come up to interrogate you with Omni Man.

Marks soft voice rang through the silence of his and his fathers animalistic brutality just minutes ago.

"Why are you here?"

His tone had remained soft and understanding like he was talking to a child; it made would always make you wonder if Mark was choosing to do these horrible things, or he was going along with his father trying save thousands from his father.

Nolans eyes started to wonder down the slightly red line and a deep frown began to set on his mustache.

"Ah, Mark, that's a really st-"

Nolans grip had tightened suddenly as he dropped lower to the ground making sure your feet could barely scrape the rubble ridden concrete. A stern look strikes his face as he turns to Mark. A short look is shared between them before turning back to you, their eyes drift down your face and towards your pulsing scar. Nolan's thumb presses in deep enough to make Mark suck in air harshly and Nolan giving a somewhat disappointed grumble from some deep crevasse of feeling that you quite aren't sure is there.

A soft sigh came from Mark as a frown sets deep on his skin.

"What happened to you? What's with the scar? Is because of what happened in Honduras? You know if you'd just stayed still nothing would've happened. You pushed dad's buttons..., I'm not saying you deserved that, but still."

A shrug passed through him, he moved closer, Nolan's grip was starting to get harsher. Mark puts his hand on top of your head, he doesn't take heed of it. He begins to it upward slowly as you struggled to look up, a chuckle came from Nolan.

"He won't kill you, just make sure you won't be able to see straight. I've seen him practice works well enough."

You weren't able to at least get a sarcastic rebuttal out before his hand came down on, your head. It was an odd experience a slight pain, a sharp realization of being able to see in opposite directions, burning in of bile, and then not having sight in front of yourself.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I’m BEGGING You 🙏🏼

Write de Delete Pressure ending

'I've got him now..I can put an end to this.'

That was all you could think about as you stared down at the monster, the fishman you once bartered with, seeing how utterly pathetic he looked.

Finally.

Finally.

You've caught him in his latest hideout, and this time there was no escape for him.

It's quite ironic considering you were the one who's been running away from monsters for so long, never having the means to fight back. All you could do was hide and pray that they wouldn't find you.

After having lost count how many times you've perished to the anglers, Pandemonium, and all the others...you figured Sebastian, your "only friend", would be your safe haven from those savage creatures.

But after someone in a previous team accidentally triggered their recently-purchased flash beacon in his shop....you realized he wasn't any different from them.

Not after he nearly choked them out, breaking the tool with a spiteful warning to never try that again--as though convinced they did it on purpose--before throwing them to the ground.

They died instantly, blood pooling all around their head, and the only thing Sebastian was concerned about was needing to move his shop to a new hideout.

Oh, and of course, the items they left behind after their corpse was retrieved.

Then the next time you met him, somebody else tried to do the same thing with intentions to annoy him....and he shot them point blank in the chest. No warnings. No mercy.

That's right.

He had a shotgun hidden beneath his coat. Something that Urbanshade wouldn't dare allow you to possess lest they detonated your gear for even looking at one.

But now that they've given you clearance to eliminate him by whatever means necessary--so long as it was only used to target him and not to escape or damage any property--you were currently holding that same weapon in your hands.

It had one shell left in the chamber, as Sebastian used up the rest during his pursuit of you.

He must have caught wind of the orders the overseers gave out, as he closed his shop and became completely fed up with your attempts to reach the crystal.

Now that Painter was no longer able to stall your progress after you destroyed him for good, he was next on the hit list.

Eyefestation was on it, too, but she would be...difficult to contain. She was the least of your worries.

He, on the other hand, could be easily cornered if you were persistent enough.

The bastard tried playing dirty, at first--sending anglers after you, getting Eyefestation outraged enough to fry your brains, and even distracting you so a Wall Dweller could feast on your body. All before you could even reach Door 50.

You were more than angry.

You were livid at these cheap tricks of his, constantly yelling his name and daring him to come face you himself....and indeed he did at some points, armed with nothing but his gun, claws, and teeth.

True to his document, he was surprisingly fast for his size, able to crush you in a vice grip with his tail, leave deep gashes in your flesh, shoot you point-blank, and even throw you into the dark pits of the ruined facility.

As expected, you came back again and again, finding new ways to outsmart him.

This time, you had the crystal in your possession and repaired the cables in the ocean floor, but your mission wasn't over yet.

Sebastian refused to let you leave, and HQ demanded one final task from you: kill him, lest he sabotaged the submarine that was your only ticket out of here. They refused to send it until the deed was done.

While it became difficult to leave even a scratch on him at first, you managed to wound him more and more every time with makeshift weapons like planks with nails or anything you had at your disposal.

Now it was all finally coming to a head, as you've got him cornered, seeing his clothes shredded and his flesh bloodied from all the fighting.

And while you weren't in any better shape yourself, with your uniform a bit tattered and the crystal's container bearing scratches from his claws..he was in a far worse state.

He wasn't even trying to fight you anymore.

He just curled up in the corner of the room, hand pressed to his chest--his white shirt bleeding red--and the bandage on his third arm having become undone, revealing a reopened wound.

"You've lost, Sebastian." You huffed. "This ends here."

"....gh...ngh...."

You removed your scuba mask so he could see the fury in your eyes, and how they also stung with betrayal. It consumed your heart, leaving an ache greater than the physical ones you felt in your legs.

Once, you liked him, his company, and his attempts to make jokes and light out of grim circumstances.

Once, you considered him a friend and a humble shopkeeper who was just trying to help those who used to be like him: prisoners wrongfully incarcerated such as yourself.

Once, you could never imagine Urbanshade giving you the orders to kill him AND be willing to follow through with them.

That's all changed, however.

"They were right..you're nothing but a goddamn animal." You spat, watching the way he shuddered and gnashed his teeth. "You're just like the rest of them. You're all killing machines."

"...no.." Sebastian managed to choke out, looking up at you through his matted black hair, wheezing. "D-Don't..say that..I'm nothing like them.."

"Maybe you aren't a complete savage, but at least they didn't steal from me. At least they didn't act like they were my friend."

"......"

"Even Painter was honest with me about his intentions. He knew you weren't gonna come back for him..so I did him a favor. And he thanked me, Sebastian. If only I could've put you out of your misery just as easily."

"Go..to...to hell.." He clutched his torso, his jacket slipping off his shoulders as he coughed. "Go to hell.."

"I'm afraid that's where we're both heading." Frowning, you could feel your finger sliding towards the shotgun's trigger. "It's waiting for all of us. No matter how innocent or guilty we are. But unfortunately for you...I'll be a little late to the party."

He said nothing to that, but when you were about to speak again, he mumbled something. You tilted your head, wondering why he was suddenly looking off into space. "What did you say?"

Blinking several times, you grew alarmed as he suddenly raised his hands up to his face. Then you heard the sniffles, and a drawled-out whine that sounded like something from a wounded animal, and it was all coming from the utterly broken and defeated sea creature before you.

"...m...mom..?"

"Huh?"

"Are you there? I...I-I don't wanna die.."

Was this another trick of his? To feign weakness so you could let your guard down?

That's what you wanted to believe, and yet...as he began to cry and curl in on himself, you started having doubts that he could be this manipulative when he was so, so weak and near death.

"M-Mom..everything hurts..I-I need you...please..please, please, please..help.." His voice broke, tears dripping onto the concrete floor as he tugged on his hair and lure. "Ayudame..ayudame.."

Now he's lost it.

His sobs were the only sounds that filled the room, aside from the humming lights and sounds of the sea's pressure constricting the hulls of the blacksite.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.

How could you have forgotten?

He's mentioned a family several lifetimes ago, back when you were a naive expendable eager to have somebody to chat with who recalled their humanity. At one point, after obtaining his document, he began opening up to you a bit more about his past. Before Urbanshade and their cruel experiments.

He had a mother and siblings...his father figure was likely absent, but you knew it was rude to question that. So you let him talk about them and what he remembered. He'd never know for sure if they moved on from his "execution", or even if they were still alive at all today...

Either way, the worst feeling for him was that they'd never know he was found innocent of those crimes that got him on death row. And even if he was somehow freed...what would they think of him?

Probably as a monster, no doubt.

Yet despite it all, he cried out for his mom anyways, wanting nothing more than to be in her arms again. He had given up on attacking you and spewing vile threats in your face.

What was the point? You would just come back over and over again, and he'd run out of ideas eventually.

He was just so tired of fighting.

He wanted it all to stop.

Watching how quickly he fell apart in front of you constrained your heart, and for a moment you wondered if there was another way out of this situation--a way that didn't require one having to kill the other...

Until your diving gear began to beep.

'Shit..' Suddenly you were snapped back to the cold hard reality, as your eyes shifted to the broken experimental scrambler on the ground. It was still sparking, showing signs of irreversible damage.

Now that it no longer blocked out any communications from Urbanshade, the cameras could see you and their target in the same room together, with you hesitating to complete the mission and take the shot.

And to them, hesitance showed disobedience...and they've told you that was cause for immediate execution.

You were still an expendable. Someone they can replace in a heartbeat.

The noises seemed to snap Sebastian out of his own trance, as he looked up at you with tears staining his scaled face, blood leaking from his mouth.

He could only stare at you with resignation.

"I'm so..tired.."

Regrettably, you nodded and raised the shotgun, forcing your hands to be steady. You couldn't afford to waste anymore time, not when the beeping had gradually slowed down, allowing you to focus.

Without needing to exchange further words, you two knew the true enemy here..the one who put you both into these horrible, horrible situations in the first place..

But unless you act now, they were just going to find someone else to finish the job.

No.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'll make this quick."

It had to be you, as much as you wish it wasn't you.

If only you met him under better circumstances.

He just nodded and closed his eyes.

And you fired.

You looked away as soon as his body slumped to the floor, already growing nauseous over what you've done. The shotgun fell out of your hands, landing with a loud clatter, but it was finally over

He was gone. Silenced forever.

The beeping stopped completely, before you heard HQ come back online with one last message:

"Z-13 has been eliminated. Good work. Now leave the weapon on the floor and head through the marked doors that will lead you straight to the submarine dock."

Somehow, your weary legs managed to move towards the green-lit doors on their own, and during your long walk to the dock, the crystal's container thumped against your pant leg.

Even when you finally got to rest inside the submarine as it took you away from the blacksite, you felt as though....you didn't even deserve to rest after what you did. You felt like you've committed a crime worse than the one that put you here in the first place.

They made you take a life to earn your freedom.

But why did it have to be his life?

Was there truly no other way?

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam and trying to fight them

BRUCE

Bruce just can’t see you as a threat; you just don’t register to him. As a result, he won’t be able to take your frustration seriously. He almost views it like a puppy play-fighting, testing boundaries with their parent and trying to learn how to use their body.

As a result, he does draw out your little fight quite a while; he sees it as enrichment. It’s good for you to have exercise after all, and this way he knows you won’t get hurt!

After a while you can really tell that he’s exaggerating his injuries; you lightly punch him and he goes down. It doesn’t make any sense for Batman to be so sensitive… You realize he’s just playing with you, and the humiliation almost kills you

He loves your little bonding session. He’s joking around, smiling and laughing, and you’re seriously trying to maim him. It’s like you’re a little kitten trying to attack a lion; it’s not going to work.

Eventually he does realize you’re trying to defeat him, and then just starts immediately pinning you. You’re sweating heavily on the ground and he’s not even breathing heavily, just smiling down at you with that fond little expression. It’s infuriating.

DICK

Oh my god he is so fucking annoying about this.

Another one who doesn’t realize at first you’re trying to escape. Honestly, he probably never realizes, he’s just happy you’re showing interest in something so important to him!

He’s quite fast and has really powerful acrobatic moves, he’s twisting and running circles aorund you, and you’re laying on the mat, sweat pouring off you in buckets.

It’s definitely irritating, especially because he loves gloating. He sees it as a way to preen, he wants you to be impressed by him, and you see it as him making fun of you for not being able to escape.

Eventually starts teaching you how to actually fight. You’ll learn to box, but you’ll never be anywhere near his level. Eventually you give up on escaping and learn to use it to take your anger out on him. It’s the only time you’ll be allowed to punch him, even if it doesn’t seem to even register.

It’s embarassing to not even be considered a threat, but hey, at least you didn’t get punished for misbehaving.

JASON

Jason realizes what’s happening pretty immediately, but it’s the first time you’ve tried to make contact with him… he’s allowing himself this bit of selfishness.

He loves seeing your determined little expressions, it makes him feel ecstatic that you’re thinking so deeply about him. He feels he’s occupying your thoughts nearly the same amount you occupy his, which makes him excited. All he wants is for you to be safe, but having you show some affection toward him would be a nice treat.

He spends a lot of time just adjusting your form and making sure you won’t hurt anything. He does spar with you, but he’s using it as a teaching experience and you’re going for the throat. You won’t get anywhere close, but hey, at least he gets to pin you to the floor and see that pretty flustered expression.

His fighting style is normally quick and brutal, so he does focus less on those flashy moves that make up 99% of Dick’s fighting style. As a result, you do actually get faster, though nowhere fast enough to get anywhere close to hitting him. You’ll never land a punch on anything but his forearms, and that’s because he’s letting you; the pit enhanced his fighting quite a bit.

TIM

Tim is the only one to really shut it down. He’s quite a good fighter, but he prefers using the bo staff, which he’d never use on you. Instead, he just gets Dick and Jason to teach you to fight. He’s not interested in sparring at all, he only practices fighting to hone his skills; he doesn’t really enjoy it.

He’d prefer to just cuddle, so he’ll definitely tie you to the bed and just lie next to you, running a hand down your back. If you want to touch him so bad, he’ll give you that.

Yes, he knows that isn’t what you want, no he doesn’t care.

Tim prioritizes your safety, yes, but he isn’t the most playful person around you. He doesn’t want to hurt you or give you a reason to be scared. He does utilize the fact that he’s not the most intimidating person in the world to get you to relax around him. He’s already got to fight against his frightening stare and the fact that you associate him with his ruthless practices as a businessman, he doesn’t want you thinking about him hurting you as well.

CASS

Cass is the most playful about it. Yes, she realizes what’s happening, no she doesn’t care.

She just wants to have fun, and this is the only opportunity she’s really gotten so far.

She’s not really focused on teaching you anything, it’s entirely play for her.

She’s gonna pin you pretty quickly, and she’s the one who uses the least amount of fancy moves. Even Bruce just modifies his normal fighting style to be less brutal, she completely acts like you’re a child trying to wrestle, focusing entirely on the kind of moves an older sibling would use if their younger sibling was being annoying.

Yes, she will sit on your legs to prevent you from moving.

If you actually try to really hurt you, she’s just gonna sit on your legs. She isn’t entertaining any sort of actual harm, it should be light and playful. She’s so soft toward you that you eventually stop trying to hurt her; if she was so gentle with you even when you were going at her throat, you start to understand that she only wants to be around you. Thus begins the period of negotiation for more privileges.

The playfighting is actually a really good way to learn to read Cass. You learn to tell the difference between that playful fake anger, and that real ice cold determination to stop you from doing harm. it’s a great way to bond.

[thesassypadawan]

Ask Nicely (Master Anakin x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Somedays you think your new master hates you and others… Well, let’s just say, you find out soon enough…when he expresses his disdain for you asking Obi-Wan nicely to take care of your needs.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Jealous Skyguy, rough fingering/kisses…and Ani’s thick digits. Padawan Reader is of age, 5 years younger than him.

“What’s the big deal? All I did was train with Master Kenobi,” you huffed. Rolling your eyes so hard that you wondered if they’d get stuck like that.

Anakin had been lecturing you nonstop for the last half hour. Starting from the minute he had practically dragged you out of the dojo…through the temple halls…back to your shared quarters. His strong hand wrapped firmly around your arm the whole way.

“For the fourth time this week,” he growled. Arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway, a frown on his face. “As your master, it’s my responsibility-”

“And you’re doing such a great job…” Having shed the last of your sweat soaked clothes, you began rummaging through your drawers. Back turned to him, not caring that you were standing there in only your undergarments. “…of neglecting those duties.”

You weren’t in the wrong, not in the very least. The two of you never had the greatest of relationships or, for that matter, one really at all. Constantly arguing and fighting, butting heads over anything and everything. Which grew worse when you abruptly became his padawan learner; to the point where you were verily certain that he hated you.

Or there was always something else that led you, made you want to believe…

Capturing your elbow, he easily whirled your around. “Listen here, it’s not my fault-”

“No, it is!” You snapped; jabbing your finger into his chest, refusing to stepdown. “You’re the whole reason why I have to go ask Obi-Wan nicely to help take care of my needs!”

Clearly striking a nerve, you watched as Ani’s jaw clenched tighter. Eyes narrowing at you, something dark flickering inside them. “Careful now; you don’t know-”

“Actually, I think I do,” you boldly interrupted once more. Mouth curling up into a sly grin, because you knew what you said next would anger him enough to either silence or… “You’re jealous! You can’t stand the idea of another man…let alone your old master…touching my body! Guiding me, teaching me how to move in ways that you aren’t able to!”

“Little one,” he snarled in warning. Shoving you back against the dresser, pinning you in place. Towering over your smaller frame menacingly.

You should have been terrified, horrified. Despite this though, you kept goading Anakin. “And his big hands felt so good resting on my hips… His fat cock pressing into my ass…”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a quick, invisible squeeze to your neck. One that left you briefly stunned, speechless. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see what you have to say about Obi-Wan after I’m done teaching you.”

Not even a second later and his mouth was slotted against yours in a fiery kiss. Biting sharply at your bottom lip, demanding entrance. All the while his mechno hand found its way to your breast, tearing the bindings off like they were nothing.

The moment the cold air hit your exposed nipples, you let out a small whimper. Allowing Ani to slip his tongue in, wrestling with and pinning yours down. Showing you who was in control, attempting to force you into submission.

You tried to pull away, but he held you fast to him. Organic hand gripping the back of your head, long fingers tangling and tugging your hair roughly. The other delivering a solid slap to each tit before he finally decided it was time to break apart.

Gasping, coughing for air. A desperate whine escaped you as he trailed his lips down your jaw, your throat; leaving an array of lovely marks in their wake. Until they wrapped themselves around a pebbled bud; sucking hungrily, biting lightly when your back arched in response. “M-Mast-ter.”

While he lavished your chest with hot kisses, Anakin’s hand followed the curves of your body. Brushing your clothed mound, chuckling once he felt how drenched you were. “Would you look at that; already so wet for me. Bet the old bastard can’t get you like this…”

Nipping a sensitive nub one last time, he had risen back up. Hand grasping your chin tightly, lips crashing against your in another searing kiss. Making you mewl softly, body trembling in anticipation.

“…or sound like that,” he growled low. Suddenly yanking your panties to the side, plunging two leather clad fingers into your cunt.

Squealing, you clenched hard around him. Walls fluttering from the foreign sensation, from being stuffed so full. Hips rocking back and forth in time with his painfully slow pumps. A squelching sound filling the air.

Wanting and craving more. All that pent up frustration had you already so embarrassingly close to crashing over the edge. That you were reduced to a mere babbling mess when Ani abandoned your mouth and pressed his lips to your neck again. Kissing the junction of it and your shoulder, tongue lapping at the tender flesh. A pleasant shiver running down your spine. “P-please…please…”

His pace picked up, thick digits thrusting deep with you. Bullying and bruising your cervix, muttering. “Oh, are you close? You want to cum?”

Panting, you nodded frantically. The heat inside of you overwhelming while you lost touch with reality more and more from each drive.

“Words,” he demanded. Adding the remaining two, slamming them brutally into your packed pussy. “Use them.”

“Yes, s-so close!” You squeaked, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. “L-let me c-cum, master!”

At your words, he sunk his teeth in. Breaking the skin, hissing a ‘no’ as he abruptly withdrew his fingers. Pulling away, your fresh blood tinting his lips red.

A wild cry flew from your mouth. Sobbing at the denial, body sagging against the dresser. Hips bucking shamelessly in the air, trying to regain the pleasurable feelings that had been coursing through you.

Grabbing your ass, Anakin squeezed…smacked it hard. Smearing your slick across your freshly soiled panties. “Only good padawans get to do that…you haven’t been. Now, why don’t you try asking me nicely and maybe…I’ll help take care of your needs.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[katskitoshi]

Hello, I'm your new fan and I wanted to make a request :) But if I can't do it, that's ok, I would like an image of Genshin from Zhongli, these days I saw a fanart of him and Lumine and I imagined myself in it lol I really do I love Zhongli and I wanted a smut of him

"CAN'T COUNT?" with ZHONGLI from GENSHIN IMPACT

synopsis: zhongli makes you count his mora while fucking you stupid.

character: zhongli x gn! reader

includes: (nsfw theme) slight dumbification, orgasm denial, marking, double penetration, finger sucking, spanking, slight nipple play

--"come on, dearest. can you not understand this simple task?" zhongli chuckles as his cold, ungloved, and surprisingly well taken care of hands gently massage the soft skin of your hips before delivering a harsh smack on your ass.

a cry of pleasure and pain gets caught in your throat as drool starts to slip down your lip. zhongli's cocks that were brutally pounding your insides suddenly stop. you turn your head back at him with tears in your eyes, slightly rocking your hips back trying to feel him moving inside you again. "w-why'd you..?"

you can't even get your words out before a deep, precise thrust to your sweet spot makes you choke on your own breath, and a harsher smack to your ass than before caused you to clench around him and roll your eyes to the back of your head.

"you stopped counting." counting? when were you-? oh right. just a short while ago, zhongli had you count his mora. but he proposed a challenge. you didn't bother to even hear out the challenge, only begin counting. you mean, zhongli has a little bit of mora, so it can't be that hard right? well, it might've been easy if he hadn't bent you over and started brutally fucking you. counting isn't easy when you have two monster cocks deep inside.

your eyes refocus on the small stack of golden coins in front of you. upon taking them into your hands, zhongli slowly starts thrusting into you again. "see, it's not hard to be smart, dearest." he gives you a wet, gentle kiss on your shoulder that eventually turns into a bite.

his teeth puncture your skin enough to bruise, and he slowly starts making more of them along your neck and shoulder. every once in a while, he'll pick up his speed and drag his tongue of the fresh bite marks.

soon enough, his slow thrusts return to their former pace. brutal, fast, and deep. his cocks throb inside your warm walls and you moan lewdly. zhongli notices that you're starting to lose yourself to him and his cocks, abandoning your tasks at hand.

his nails dig into your hips, bound to leave crescent bruises like the ones on your shoulder and back. he trades his fast, deep, pace for slower, deeper ones.

"zh-zhongli, pleashe don't shtop now.." you hiccup, again trying to bounce yourself back into him. your head drops down onto the small stack of mora that you've barely gotten through counting. drool escapes from your lips and pools onto of the coins as your eyes glaze over in pleasure. unfortunately, you only gain yourself another harsh smack on your ass that nearly sobers you up.

he begins to speed up his thrusts again, delighted to see you sinking back into him, his cocks, his pleasure. "what happened to counting those coins? i won't make you start over, but if you don't finish counting i can't let you cum."

your eyes roll to the back of you head, feeling his throbbing cocks speed up their precise pounds even more. you lift up your head, and begin counting from where you left off, or at least think you did. the threat of not being able to cum made you more determined that ever to get this over with.

as your hands start to run over the drool-covered coins, zhongli moves his hands from your hips to run along your body. his hands eventually stop at your chest. he tugs your nipples harshly to get a reaction out of you. and he gets one.

your walls tighten up around him, nearly bringing him and you to orgasm.

a loud moans leaves your mouth and echos around his office before one of his hands goes to cover your mouth. he thrusts two of his fingers in your mouth and you immediately start screaming around them as he doesn't stop pulling and rubbing at your other nipple.

"don't use this as an excuse to stop, my love. you're so close to being done, aren't you?" your vision is cloudy with tears and your eyes can't focus due to the intense amounts of pleasure youre feeling. but he's right. you are close. close to the end of the mora, close to your orgasm.

you barely even feel awake. you can hear zhongli's low grunts, the sound of his lower stomach slam into your ass, you squelching noise when he pounds into you, your own heartbeat. and you can barely hear yourself when you whine out a 'done!'

you're only convinced you actually said it when zhongli slowed down a little bit and began to leaned in close to your ear and began to whisper to you how proud he was of you.

zhongli turns you over so you're on your back and starts to lovingly kiss you on the contrary to his brutal thrusts. "you did so well for me, my sweet. now, let's make you cum as i've promised."

[lilacxquartz]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS pt. 2

choso x gn!reader

ao3 • masterlist << previous part • next part >>

summary: stumbling upon a strange man while deeply lost on halloween night in the subway, you find yourself quickly in trouble.

tags/warnings: some violence, yandere, reader insert, season 2/shibuya arc references/potential spoilers

a/n: decided to continue this one after all, after this chapter you can expect one more conclusive chapter.

You stared at the man before you, unsure what to think.

In an attempt to tug back your wrist from his almost desperate hold, you found that he wasn’t letting go of you.

The air around the station started to feel thicker, heavier and almost suffocating. The flickering overhead lights were starting to make you nauseated too. The longer he held onto you, the more it seemed as though the walls around you were closing in.

Choso, as you learned the man was now called, pulled you along beside him as you both walked. While being in his presence didn’t feel immediately dangerous, you could tell that something darker was brewing within him as if there was more to him than he let on.

You occasionally looked up at him, watching him pass through the subway with a determined glint in his eyes. Even though he walked with an unwavering stride, his destination locked in mind, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on you whenever he felt you were potentially straying away.

Such an interaction left you feeling confused as you were unsure as to why he was suddenly helping you with such drive despite the shaky first impression. You didn’t quite understand why there was so much danger down here to begin with, but his serious demeanour was convincing enough so you trusted him.

Or at least, you tried to.

“Stay close to me,” Choso murmured, keeping his voice low. His fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you a little closer to him.

You could only nod as you tried to swallow away any fear you had. The late autumn night proved cold and stacked with the internal fear that was manifesting in your bones, leaving you almost shivering. Choso’s touch was warm though, surprisingly so, given how almost sickly pale that he looked.

Suddenly, you paused in your tracks and so did he. It felt as though you were being watched and even hunted and upon turning around, you saw a pair of people walking right behind you. Initially, you were relieved but then the longer you stared at them, the more uneasy you felt.

Recognising the confined cursed energy that coursed beneath their unimposing surface, Choso recognised those humans as Mahito’s doing. They weren’t people anymore, just abominations with a temporary cover and being what they truly were, it was no surprise that they were hunting you.

“Stay behind me,” he warned, shoving you slightly back.

Initially, you were about to protest, but then you saw as the people before you became something else completely. It all happened so fast, but their forms quickly became mangled, contorting into grotesque fusions of folded flesh. They lurched forward in a sprint towards where you stood—their movements almost clumsy and erratic—their cold, dead eyes focused right on you.

You tried to step back in an attempt to run away, unsure of what exactly you were seeing but Choso stopped you once again. With a heated growl, he spoke out a warning, “Don’t move. I’ll take care of them.”

His form shielded you from their immediate attack and you couldn’t help but feel your voice lock in your throat. You wanted to scream and ask what on earth was going on, but you couldn’t, with only shaky breaths able to escape your lips.

Choso’s body was tense with anticipation, but he acted swiftly before the now turned cursed spirits could catch up to you and cause any real damage. With a raised hand, his fingers formed a sign and shot out what looked like blood from the tips of his fingers, forming sharp scarlet spears that stabbed through the creature’s bodies, causing them both to be taken down with just one hit.

He remained still for a moment before turning back to you and taking a deep breath. His eyes were dark with tension but he forced himself to soften his stance when he looked back towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked you, attempting to adopt a gentler tone. Choso had to remind himself that you weren’t a sorcerer, so he had to be patient with you.

You gulped down your fears, attempting to nod but your legs felt weak, as though they would give out at any second.

“I-I’m fine,” you warily stammered, barely hearing your own voice as your heart thundered in your chest, the pulsating echoing against your ears, “what… what exactly are you?”

Choso’s calm demeanour faltered for a second. That was a good question. What was he? His expression turned almost pained, as if he didn’t have a cohesive answer. He found himself stepping forward, trying to hold onto you again as a way to both comfort you but also himself.

“It’s not easy to explain,” he said with a strained tone, the flashback of his fabricated memories still fresh in his mind, “I’m not like you, I was created… not born.”

“Created…?” you repeated what he told you. “So you’re not exactly human? But you look so…”

“I’m what is called a death painting, I believe,” he replied, trying to explain it to you, thinking that maybe if he forces himself to listen to the history he recently learned then it would make it easier, but all it did was torment him. “I was formed in a womb like you, but I was never born. I was made for a… purpose, but that turned out to be a lie because I was misled by someone I thought I could trust,” his voice became more strained, almost rough with emotion, “but that doesn’t matter right now.”

You blinked, unsure how you should process the information he gave you. It was admittedly tough to digest. “It sure sounds like it matters though…”

“My focus right now is you,” he dismissed, shaking his head, “I can’t let anything happen to you, not after everything that has happened tonight.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words as he left you feeling quite strange with the implication. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel wary, as though you were his reason for holding on. While flattering, he was still a stranger to you and a dangerous one at that from what you had seen, so such a thought in fact scared you.

“I… I have done things,” Choso continued to speak, his voice almost trembling, “things that I regret. I almost killed someone important to me but… but, I was wrong. I was deceived…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, “I-I don’t want to be a monster, but, I’ll do whatever I can to protect you, even if it means I have to become one for your sake in the process.”

You could only stare back at him without forming an immediate response. The weight of his words were heavy, especially coming from someone you had just met. A strange feeling formed for you too, though. You knew that you should have been much more terrified than just simply scared, but there was a part of you that wanted to believe him all the same. It was as though his vulnerability had almost touched you…? It made you feel sad for him and what he was forced to do.

“I… I believe you,” you finally said.

Choso stiffened in response, both relieved but nervous all at the same time. He pulled you closer without warning, ensnaring your body in a tight, sudden hug. His arms around your body feel strong, the muscles tight around your frame but you didn’t feel as though you were in danger.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his breath rolling hot down your neck. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what I have to do.”

You nodded, letting him hold onto you despite not having a single clue as to what was really going on and finally, after a long minute, he loosened his grip on you even if he didn’t let go of you just yet.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, his voice less intense now but still just as determined as before, “there’s still danger here but I’ll protect you.”

You nodded again, unable to form a response that time as you let him drag you forward. You don’t know exactly where it was that he was leading you, but you felt somehow bonded to this strange man who led you through the underground space. For the most part, the station seemed empty but whenever there was even a passing footstep or a slight shuffle, he would turn the corner with you and lead you somewhere else. You stayed close to him, of course, not that he would allow himself to let you go.

Something about him seemed to be changing however, his breathing slowly grew more labourers and his expression gradually turned grave. It was almost as if he was distracted, with his eyes darting around erratically, searching for something—maybe someone—that wasn’t there.

Then without a single hint of warning, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Choso…?” you tried to ask.

The death painting didn’t reply right away, still reeling from the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing. Finally though, he finally spoke up, but his voice seemed broken, “I-I… I can’t go on… n-not right now.”

His shoulders sagged as his body melted against the wall, bringing up his knees to a tented fold to his chest. Feeling unsure of what do exactly, you decided to settle down beside him, unsure if it was the correct course of action.

The fear that you felt earlier was still there, deep down in your core. However, you could at the same time understand that he was going through something that went beyond your own comprehension of understanding. You weren’t an unreasonable person. You could feel pity, even empathy for what he might have been going through; it was clear that he was struggling with something, even if you didn’t get the true extent of just how dire it truly was.

“Are you okay?” you tried to ask in a soft tone.

Choso let out a shaky breath, his voice barely audible, “I am not… I’m not okay. I don’t know how to deal with this. All of this. The guilt… the… confusion? I thought I knew what I was and what I had to do, but now nothing makes sense to me anymore.”

His words while scattered, did make at least a a shred of sense to you. You just sat beside him with your hand on his arm, even leaning a little bit. You didn’t have anything that you could say to soothe his aching heart, but you could still offer him your company.

Many minutes had since then passed and the tension in his body slowly subsided as he leaned further into your touch. His breathing was no longer laboured as he fought to regain control, but his eyes were bloodshot with tears that threatened to escape. With one look at you, he begins to cry. He did so quietly at first but then he truly let go; his weeping echoing through the confines of the (mostly) empty station as he finally let go of all the raw pain and regret that he had been holding back.

You kept at his side, offering him your quiet support that he desperately needed. A part of you still didn’t understand him and another part of you still feared him and what he might do, but you swallowed those thoughts away for now. In front of you was a broken man and despite his claims of being a monster, you could very clearly see the humanity within him and his warring struggle to hold onto it.

After what felt like forever, his cries finally seemed to subside and Choso at last wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He then turned his head to get a better look at you and although his gaze initially seemed tender—there was something else lurking beneath the surface—something darker.

“You…” he strained, reigning control of his voice once again, “you’re so kind. Too kind. Why are you still here…?”

You hesitated. Overlooking the part where he wouldn’t let you you go even if you tried to leave, you had a different reason for sticking by his side. “I don’t know… I guess I can just see that you’re trying? You don’t want to be a bad person and it’s clear.”

Choso simply stared at you with an unreadable expression written on his face but then he piped up, finally having something to say to you, “You… You don’t know how much this means to me. No one has ever treated me this way, with kindness… with compassion or with hope.”

You thought that his words were quite tragic, as you were unable to imagine such a lonely existence. It was then that you realised that something had shifted between the two of you. The way he was looking at you now, it felt much more intense than before, almost possessive. It was as if he made an internal decision in his mind and just as you were about to ask him about it, he opened up his mouth as though to stay something.

“I can’t let you go,” Choso said, his voice laced with desperation, “I need you. You’re the only thing that’s keeping me… human.”

You looked at him with some uncertainty evident in your gaze, unable to reply to the bluntness of his words.

“Look, I know that this is… sudden,” he mumbled, realising just how insane he must look to you right now, “but I can’t lose someone like you. Not now. Not ever.”

You swallowed hard as your mind raced at the implication. Just like that feeling you had before, you wanted to break free from this man and run away as far as possible. Then there was that other part of you that couldn’t deny that there was some tension between the two of you—something that dared you to stay, to see where this whole thing might lead. You knew that all of this was wrong and dangerous, but something about the way he looked at you was more convincing than anything you had ever known.

“Please,” he urged, his voice raw and almost pleading. “Please stay with me. Don’t leave. I’ll.. Ill protect you, I’ll do anything for you… just don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

Once again, you looked at him unable to form an immediate response. You got it to an extent; the fear of being alone was almost incapacitating and you weren’t quite believing your own words as you spoke them, but finally you gave in, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Choso’s eyes lit up with a strange mix of relief and almost possessive hope and it wasn’t long before you found yourself locked up in his strong arms yet again. This time his hold on you however felt stronger, almost imprisoning as though letting you go would mean the end of the world.

As you sat there, wrapped up in his embrace and secured within the confines of his taut body, you realise that once again, something had changed between the two of you. His hold on you wasn’t physical, but emotional and it was very unlikely that you were going to go home anytime soon.

It was as fate was triggered by you accidentally stumbling upon him because in the midst of it, you ended up giving something that he didn’t know he needed.

And now that he had it, he would never let you go.

[team-free-avengers]

A New Team Chapter 2

Summary: After a rough battle everyone feels defeated and ready to throw in the towel, until it becomes time to save the lives of others.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Yelena x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Spoilers!!

Word count: 1,596

A/N: I finished this chapter last night and when I went to transfer it to Tumblr my cat walked across the keyboard deleting it all. I thankfully was able to recover half of it but after that it ended up taking a different path than i thought it would so there is no Bucky x Reader interaction really i'm sorry there will be more in the next one.

“Okay, we need a new plan,” Walker says, starting to hypothesize how we could possibly beat that person after what just happened up there. 

“No, no new plans,” Yelena interjects suddenly, “The pain is too powerful.”

“Let's just regroup and think because there has to be a way to stop that guy. It might seem crazy now but as a team we can do it,” Walker argues. 

“We're not regrouping and this isn't even a team, just earlier we were hired to kill each other,” she snaps in return uninterested in anything Walker has to say.

“Of course we're a team! We're the Thunderbolts!” you interject trying to help motivate her but it might have just made it worse.

“I don't know what that is supposed to mean coming from someone like you,” she retorts, shooting daggers your way.

Sensing this is escalating fast, Bucky decides it's time to interject, “I think we need to go somewhere a little more secluded and private to discuss this.”

“Yes, that's perfect. In Fact there is a warehouse about a mile or two from here that could work,” you agree.

“Oh my God, stop! There is no us, there is no team. Look, Bob transformed into that thing and...There's nothing any of you can do about it,” Yelena snaps slamming her foot to the ground in a forceful stomp.

“And what exactly did you do? Because I seem to recall you got your ass kicked way worse than mine,” Walker retorts clearly taking a bit of the blame pretty personally.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm a mess! I'm terrible. We're all terrible. And you're not a hero, you're not even a good person,” Yelena begins yelling and clear at this point that it's over more than just losing Bob.

“Bitch,” Walker snares back at her, not taking a liking to a thing she said.

An audible gasp escapes your lips but the shock wears off quickly because  before anyone can react Yelena is already halfway down the block and moving fast. Alexi, who you learned was Yelena’s father, went to chase after her but you stopped him, “please let me.” 

He offers you a firm nod and you take off after her, “Yelena!”

“I know you're mad but just stop and let me talk to you…let me explain,” you beg out of breath but finally right behind her.

“What could you possibly have to explain? Huh? How could you abandon me when we had a plan to escape together? I haven’t been able to trust anyone the same since then, not even the people who are supposed to be my family because you were like my sister and you did that to me” She whips around seething. 

“I know it probably seems like you can’t trust anyone especially me because of what happened back then, but I promise that I had no other choice but to leave. If I didn’t I probably would have died, they were running experiments on me secretly during that time. It might seem hard to believe me but they threatened to make me kill anyone I told with the powers they forced upon me. The day they took me out of class for a special training they were actually taking me  back to that god forsaken lab where they wanted to double my dosage. I could barely handle what they were already pumping into my body which is why I was always sick, that’s why when I was left alone in the hallway I made my break for it. I regretted it every day from the moment I stepped foot outside but I couldn’t turn back around you and I both know that would have resulted in both of our deaths,” you try to explain. Hopefully Yelena will understand, at least enough to let others in even if she doesn’t let you in. 

“What about after that? I know you had a relationship with Natasha, you knew I destroyed the school and was no longer brainwashed. You could’ve used those Avengers powers you have to find me if you really wanted to,” She argues still not trusting you.

You knew this would possibly happen and you are willing to work for her trust but before you could tell her that she begins to speak again, “I just always feel so alone, my father over there hasn’t contacted me in a year. This is the first time I’ve seen you since we were children and Natasha is…” She trails off clearly fighting back tears and you embrace her in a hug without thinking twice about it and rub a hand through her hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, I was scared you wouldn’t understand or forgive me. Then after the Avenger broke up Natasha convinced me to meet you, she was going to connect us but that's when everything changed forever. Since then I just think I’ve had a lot of healing I needed to do personally before we could reach this point, but now that we are in front of each other I’m not letting you out of my life again,” you pull back from the hug slightly to look at her, “Now what do you say we return to our team?”

Before either of you can begin to make your way back to where everyone else is, chaos breaks out. There is a shadow you’re pretty sure is this Bob fellow who kicked your ass earlier making people just turn into shadows causing vehicles to go haywire threatening the people just innocently on the street. Everyone instantly jumps into action getting as many people as they can off the street and working as a team without even thinking about it. 

When you finish escorting a mother and child into a nearby building hoping to keep them safe you turn to see all the thunderbolts trying their hardest to flip a large slab of concrete. Unsure if you can get over there in time you instead send a sonic blast their way adding enough momentum for them to flip it. They all let out a breath of relief as you rush over to join them in celebration for part of the job being done. The celebration doesn’t last long because Alexis is instantly rushing to save a little girl's life from another flying slab of cement. 

Only for her to disappear the same way the man in the helicopter and everyone else did. Panic instantly takes over and the crowd of people is in mass hysteria as people begin to disappear left and right. You move to retreat like everyone else in hopes of regrouping and figuring out a way to fix this, but before you can you hear Alexi screaming.

“Yelena! No!” 

Instantly you turn around knowing exactly what she did and your heart sinks. You just got her back there’s no way she’s gone just like that. No. You refuse to accept it. Instead you decided to take off into the shadows after her with a full sprint before your boyfriend or anyone else on the team can stop you. 

The site that greets you in one you were not expecting. You are staring at the twelve year old version of yourself being escorted back to the “hospital” wing they always brought you to for these experiments only this time things were different there was another girl there already strapped to a chair across from where you are expected to sit. Without thinking younger you sits down and stare into her eyes. A pit begins to form in your stomach because you know what is about to happen and you don’t want to relive it. She was just a girl, a random child they abducted off the street for their sick experiments just like they did to you. You don’t want to witness what happens next so instead you try to run, ending up back in front of the two of them. 

‘How the hell do I get out of here and find Yelena?’ you think to yourself frustrated.

After a few minutes of running in circles through your worst memories you somehow end up in yet another room confused and exhausted. The room isn’t one you've seen before, it's an attic in someone's house. There is stuff being thrown around by an unknown force but more importantly it’s where Yelena is with Bob, you finally found them. You pick up a bat that's sitting in a nearby box and start hitting things as they come flying towards you trying to make your way towards them to help. 

When you catch Yelena’s eye she gives you a surprised but grateful smile as the three of you try to fight off the attic clutter the void is using as shrapnel to fling at you. No matter how much you swung, the objects kept coming and it was beginning to become too much. As you were about to give up and drop to your feet out of nowhere one by one everybody appeared helping destroy anything that comes flying at you until there is nothing left. 

As everyone is regaining their breath and trying to come up with a plan you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning a hole through you. You know he’s pissed that you took such a risk but you needed to prove to Yelena you weren’t letting her go through this alone.  

‘We’ll talk later,’ you think to yourself as you meet his gaze and mouth, ‘I'm sorry,’ right now we gotta get out of here and defeat this thing. 

[icequeenliafics]

Catch Up To You

Context: Post Hidden Inventory, Suguru has a heart to heart with the wall separating his and Satoru's room.

It was night, it was dark, and Suguru wondered how this could have happened.

Satoru and him were both here, at Jujutsu Tech, at the same time, and yet he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling; alone.

They didn't talk. Not really.

“... Have you lost weight?”

Satoru had tried, his voice light and unfittingly casual, a grin tugging at his lips as always, but he had tried to reach out to Suguru.

And Suguru knew that, able to recognize the silent plea inside his friend’s eyes.

‘Talk to me. Talk to me.’

But he couldn’t find it in himself.

“It’s just heat stress. I’ll be fine.”

He was shutting Satoru out, because he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know how to take the hand that was held out to him.

Because what really was his problem?

Suguru didn’t know. At least he didn’t know how to put it into words.

So what was he supposed to tell his friend? What right did he have to trouble Satoru with that big nothing inside his chest?

The boy had his hands full already, training day and night to become stronger. So that nothing like this would ever happen again. So that next time, he would be strong enough, fast enough, just enough.

Suguru couldn’t keep up with him, but he refused to slow him down.

Satoru would become stronger. The strongest. And Suguru would get over himself. Somehow.

And then everything could be as it had been before. Before Fushiguro. Before Amanai.

They would get over it and be okay again.

Suguru knew it was a lie. He did not know if he would ever be okay again. Not in a world like this. In a society this rotten.

But he had to pretend.

Running a hand over his face for the umpteenth time that night, Suguru rolled onto his side, a tormented sigh escaping him.

He was facing the wall. He couldn’t sleep. It was three in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. Not today. Not yesterday. Not the day before that.

He was stuck. His thoughts ran wild while at the same time, he was thinking nothing at all. He felt restless, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t have the energy to utter a single word.

There was fire inside him, enough to burn a town to the ground, but Suguru just laid there, silent, drained, stuck .

He pressed the flat of his hand against the wall, feeling how cold it was. Suguru stared at it, seeing nothing, of course. He stretched his fingers until every part of his hand touched cool, solid stone. Reaching nothing.

Because there was just a wall, a thin border of smooth stone that separated him from Satoru.

“Yes, I have lost weight”, he whispered - his voice raspy from lack of use - because he knew his best friend was right there on the other side, their beds separated by only this thin layer of concrete.

“I can’t bring myself to eat”, he whispered, running his thumb over hard stone, imagining it was Satoru’s soft skin. “I barely feel hungry anymore. Everything seems to taste like a curse lately.”

Suguru felt his lungs tighten around the hollow inside his chest, his dry eyes prickling with tears that wouldn’t fall. He felt miserable.

“But I don’t know how to tell you any of that”, he rasped, fingers stilling against the cold stone. “Because you are so unaffected by it all. Because you’re stronger than me.”

He let his hand slide down, letting it fall onto the sheets. Now that he was talking about it to Satoru, he felt a small sense of relief. Eyes growing heavy, limps prickling sickly from sleep deprivation.

“Or maybe you’re just more oblivious than me”, Suguru whispered, his tongue heavy inside his mouth. “Either way … I don’t want you to lose your smile. Don’t want you to feel like I do.”

He was teetering on the edge of consciousness now, but he felt like he had to keep talking, to explain himself. Like Satoru could actually hear him. Like he could understand.

“So, I’ll get through this alone”, he mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Get my shit together … and then I’ll return to your side … and we’ll be okay … you’ll be the strongest … and I’ll follow behind.”

His fingertips graced the wall.

“I’ll catch up to you”, he said with the last remnants of consciousness  “Wait for me, Satoru.” His eyes fell shut. “Please…”

He slipped away and there was nothing. There was finally nothing.

+

Found this in one of my notebooks. There was supposed to be a second part where Suguru wakes up from Satoru having a nightmare about Toji cutting him up. So, they realize they're both struggling and don't have to go through it alone. Buuuut I've moved on.✨

[superwholock36]

~ A Little Taste of Heaven ~ (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) (3/10)

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🎵🎶Magnet (639Hz) - by Able Heart🎶🎵

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Warnings :Fluff / Squintforslightsmut? / TonybeingTony /Peterbeingacutey / humour Summery "After an intimate encounter with Spider-Man, [name] finds herself left webbed to the wall—a moment that stings with both hurt and resolve. Refusing to let the abandonment define her, she decides to take control of her own path. In her journey to move forward, she crosses paths with Peter Parker, unaware that the charming stranger is, in fact, the very man she’s trying to forget." __________________________________________________

Time blurred into a frustrating haze, each moment stretching uncomfortably as she remained stuck to the wall. The webbing held fast around her wrist, its unyielding grip making every attempt to shift her weight an exercise in futility. She wasn’t inebriated, not quite—but the drinks she’d had earlier left a pleasant buzz humming faintly through her veins, dulling some of her sharper instincts.

Her legs ached, bent awkwardly in her attempts to make herself comfortable. The cool concrete beneath her dug into her knees and back, adding to the growing discomfort. Her free hand gripped the brick wall for balance, the rough surface a poor substitute for relief. Still, she refused to let it break her composure.

What stung more than the physical strain was the way he had left. No explanation, no reassurance—just a sharp departure into the night, leaving her pinned here, tangled in a mess he’d created. She frowned, her jaw tightening as the thought struck a nerve. What did she expect? A goodbye? An apology? It wasn’t like they were anything to each other.

And yet, something about the way he’d touched her, the way he’d looked at her—it had felt real in a way she couldn’t quite ignore. She had kissed him, yes, but the moment between them wasn’t just hers. It was theirs, he had his damn mouth on her core for crying out loud!

Her stomach twisted despite her best efforts to shove the thought aside. It wasn’t heartache—no, she wasn’t going to let herself feel that. But the lack of closure gnawed at her, an annoyance she couldn’t quite shake. She pressed her lips into a firm line, glancing around the alley as if it could offer her some distraction. All she found was the faint residue of the web on the wall, mocking her with its stubborn presence.

She shifted her position again, a soft grunt escaping as her knees scraped against the concrete. Every adjustment brought only temporary relief, but she refused to let frustration take hold. She’d deal with the ache, just like she’d deal with this whole stupid night, and then she’d move on.

Because she would move on. Spider-Man could vanish into the city’s skyline and take whatever she thought she felt with him. She’d shake it off—so what if he’d left her here without a word? If anything, it only confirmed what she already knew: heroes weren’t infallible. And she didn’t need one to save her.

The faint sound of traffic filtered in from the street beyond the alley, a reminder of the world still spinning outside her small pocket of frustration. She straightened her shoulders, testing the web’s grip one more time with a sharp tug. When it didn’t give, she exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath, “Typical.”

She could wait a little longer, but she wouldn’t waste another second thinking about him. Or at least, she’d try not to.

________________________________________________________

The web finally gave way, loosening its sticky grip on her wrist just enough for her to wiggle it free. It wasn’t a clean escape—she had to twist and yank, muttering a string of curses under her breath—but when her hand finally broke free, she staggered back from the wall, clutching her wrist triumphantly.

“Oh, finally!” she groaned, exasperation clear in her tone. “Stupid web... stupid Spider-Man... stupid everything!”

Flexing her sore wrist, she glared at the wall as if it had been the one holding her prisoner. Her palm was sticky from residue, and she rubbed it against the side of her left thigh, grimacing at the faint tackiness that wouldn’t come off. She shook her head, brushing her dishevelled hair out of her face as she straightened up, determined to leave this miserable alley and its humiliations behind.

Her eyes darted around until she spotted her bag, discarded a few feet away. She darted toward it, scooping it up off the ground and slinging it over her shoulder with a huff. That’s when she caught sight of the screen on her phone, glowing faintly inside the bag’s open pocket. Thirty minutes. She’d been stuck there for thirty freaking minutes.

The realization hit her like a slap. Thirty minutes. Her cheeks flushed hot with a mixture of humiliation and rage as the seconds stretched out in her mind. It wasn’t just that he’d left—he’d left her pinned there, helpless and exposed, like a damn nuisance he couldn’t be bothered to untangle.

“Oh, I am so done with this!” she snapped, her voice echoing faintly in the empty alley. She stormed toward the mouth of the alleyway, her strides quick and purposeful, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her frustration bubbled over. She could still feel the faint stickiness on her wrist- her cum drying on the inside of her legs, a lingering reminder of the indignity of it all.

But as she stepped out into the street, her anger faltered for just a moment. The familiar brick façade of her apartment building stared back at her from across the road. She blinked, her brow furrowing in disbelief.

“Seriously?” she muttered, glancing from her building to the alley behind her. Her apartment had been right there—right there—the whole time, and she’d been too stuck to even realize it.

She shook her head, her jaw tightening as her frustration surged back. “Unbelievable.” She adjusted the strap of her bag and marched toward the crosswalk, her chin held high and her steps as sharp as her mood.

It didn’t matter that her apartment was so close now. All that mattered was putting as much distance as she could between herself and the wall that had held her—and the man who’d left her there.

She fumbled in her bag, her fingers brushing past her phone and a half-empty pack of gum before finally finding the familiar shape of her keys. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, the words little more than a frustrated whisper. The front door loomed in front of her, stubborn and unyielding as she juggled her bag and the keys, the strap slipping from her shoulder in the process.

Finally, after a few seconds that felt far longer than they should have, the key slid into the lock with a satisfying click. She shoved the door open with her shoulder, stepping into the small lobby and letting it swing shut behind her. The quiet hum of the building was a welcome change from the sounds of the city outside, but it did little to ease the tension in her muscles.

Her eyes flicked upward toward the stairs. Fourth floor. She sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag as she began her ascent, each step a reminder of how sore her legs were. The click of her heels against the concrete staircase echoed faintly, a rhythmic reminder of just how much she wanted to be out of them.

Reaching her door felt like a small victory. She unlocked it swiftly and pushed it open, stepping inside and letting the comforting familiarity of her apartment wash over her. The bag hit the floor with an unceremonious thud, and she kicked off her heels immediately, wincing slightly as her feet protested their sudden freedom.

She stood there for a moment, flexing her toes and savoring the relief. “Never again,” she mumbled to herself, casting a glare at the offending shoes before making her way toward the bathroom. Her body ached—her calves, her back, even her arms.

All she wanted now was the soothing steam of a hot shower to chase away the night’s discomfort. She moved briskly toward the bathroom, her fingers already reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress. With a quick tug, the fabric loosened, slipping from her shoulders and pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it carefully, draping the dress over the edge of the hamper before unhooking her bra and sliding it off with the same efficient motion. Her hands then moved to her underwear, and she slipped them off with a growl of frustration.

They were her favourite pair, the ones with the delicate lace and soft fabric, and now they were ruined - a casualty of the intense encounter with the masked hero. As she thought back to the way he had touched her, the way he had made her feel, her body began to heat up all over again, her skin prickling with remembered pleasure. But her anger and irritation quickly surged back to the forefront, overriding her arousal. Who did he think he was, anyway? Some kind of masked vigilante who could just sweep in, destroy her favourite underwear, and leave her breathless and wanting?

The cool tiles beneath her feet sent a light shiver through her as she reached for the shower controls. Twisting the knob, she let the water rush out, adjusting it until the temperature hit the perfect balance of hot and soothing. Steam began to rise almost immediately, fogging up the edges of the mirror and softening the harsh fluorescent light overhead.

She leaned against the sink for a brief moment, letting the sound of the water fill the small space. It was calming in its own way, a gentle rush that drowned out the lingering noise of the world outside. Reaching up, she swept her hair into a loose clip to keep it dry, then stepped toward the shower, ready to let the heat wash everything away. As the warm water cascaded down her skin, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh, feeling the tension in her body begin to ease. But as she reached for the soap and began to wash herself, her mind started to wander back to the events of the night. Her hands moved over her skin, cleaning away the remnants of their encounter, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as she touched her core. The soap and water washed away the cum and saliva, but it couldn't erase the memories of the way he had touched her, the way he had made her feel.

As she rinsed herself clean, she felt her body start to heat up all over again, her nipples tightening and her breasts growing heavy. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the surge of arousal that threatened to overwhelm her. But it was no use - the memories of the night's events were too vivid, too potent, and she found herself growing wet all over again, her body responding to the memories of his touch like a Pavlovian reflex. She leaned back against the shower wall, her eyes still closed, and let the water wash over her, trying to calm the storm that was brewing inside her. But as she stood there, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was far from done with the masked hero.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a soft towel, the heat from the steam still clinging to her skin. The aches and stiffness from earlier had eased, replaced by the comforting warmth that only a long, hot shower could provide. She ran a hand through her damp hair, pushing it back from her face as she padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

The rhythmic sound of the toothbrush filled the quiet apartment as she worked quickly, her eyelids already feeling heavy. Tonight had dragged on long enough, and all she wanted now was to curl up in bed and let sleep take her. Spitting out the last of the toothpaste, she rinsed her mouth, patted her face dry with a towel, and flipped off the bathroom light.

She moved to the bedroom, tugging on an old, comfortable T-shirt as she climbed into bed. The sheets felt cool against her skin, a welcome contrast to the residual warmth from her shower. Letting out a sigh of relief, she pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, adjusting her pillow until it felt just right.

The day’s chaos felt distant now, like a bad dream she could almost convince herself hadn’t happened. Her body relaxed against the mattress, and her mind, dulled by exhaustion, began to drift. Whatever tomorrow brought, she’d deal with it then. For now, all that mattered was the quiet stillness of her apartment and the promise of rest.

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Peter eased open the window of his modest apartment, the cool night air following him in like an unwelcome guest. The Spider-Man suit clung to his skin, a second layer that felt heavier tonight. He set his mask down on the windowsill, running a hand through sweat-dampened curls as his mind replayed the events of the evening.

He had searched everywhere for her. Alleyways, rooftops, fire escapes—anywhere she might have gone after freeing herself from the web. But the city had swallowed her up, its labyrinth of streets giving no clues, offering no solace. He hated the idea of leaving things unresolved, of not knowing if she was safe.

A sharp ache in his side broke through his thoughts. Peter winced, hand pressing against his ribcage where the thief’s fist had landed with unrelenting force. The bruise was already forming, dark and ugly beneath the fabric. With a sigh, he peeled off the suit, the material sticking to his skin as if reluctant to let go.

Standing shirtless in front of his mirror, Peter assessed the damage. The bruise spread like a storm cloud across his side, a stark reminder of the cost of his dual life.

His reflection stared back at him, tired and a little defeated. Moments like these—alone in the silence—were when it hit him hardest. The weight of responsibility.

Tomorrow was a new day. Spider-Man would always show up. Peter Parker, though? That was the part he wasn’t so sure about.

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MJ’s place was filled with the comforting aroma of takeout, cartons spread across the coffee table like a mini buffet. Ned plucked a dumpling from the box in front of him while MJ lounged on the armchair, one leg draped over the side, scrolling through her phone. Peter sat on the couch, a little quieter than usual, picking at the sleeve of his hoodie.

“So,” Ned started, mouth half-full, “did you ever find her? The girl from last week?”

MJ looked up from her phone, her expression softening. “Yeah, Spider-Man’s mystery girl. What happened there?”

Peter hesitated, his fingers stilling on the fabric. “No,” he admitted quietly, the word heavy. “I... I looked for hours, but... she was gone.”

The room seemed to pause for a beat, the usual easy-going air between them dipping into something more somber. MJ set her phone down, leaning forward slightly. “Well,” she said, her tone half-teasing but not unkind, “you did kinda leave her webbed to a wall.”

Ned snorted, barely swallowing his dumpling. “Yeah, dude. Not exactly a romantic exit.”

Peter sighed, his expression darkening. “It wasn’t like that... I didn’t have a choice.”

MJ’s smirk softened into something more understanding. “I know. But come on, Peter—you did make an impression. Passionate make out session-head and webbing someone to a wall? That’s not something they'd ever forget.”

Ned burst out laughing, nearly choking on his dumpling. “Yeah, dude! If I were her, I’d have a web-shaped grudge against you for life.”

Peter’s ears flushed red as he slouched further into the couch, muttering, “It’s not like I wanted to... It was just the safest option.”

MJ leaned back with a knowing smile. “Relax, I’m just saying. She probably remembers you—Spider-Man—and not in a bad way.”

Ned chimed in, ever the optimist. “Or maybe she’s like, a super-spy or something. You know, hiding in plain sight, gathering intel. Plot twist: she’s got her own secret identity!”

Peter managed a faint smile, shaking his head. “I doubt that, Ned.”

“Hey, you never know, dude. I’m just saying, if it were me, I’d be all cloak-and-dagger about it. Spy gadgets, cool code names... I’d call myself... The Nedster.”

MJ rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Ned retorted, popping another dumpling into his mouth.

Peter’s smile lingered for a moment before fading. “It’s not about that,” he said softly. “I just... I don’t like leaving things unresolved. It’s—”

“Unfinished,” MJ finished for him. “I get it. But you’re not exactly the poster boy for closure, Pete. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“You mean like dumplings?” Ned quipped, holding up the box.

MJ shot him a look. “Not now, Ned.”

“Right, sorry. Serious moment. Got it.”

Peter leaned back into the couch, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “I just hope she’s okay,” he murmured. “And... I hope she doesn’t hate me.”

MJ tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “I mean... I don’t know. If it were me? Getting left stuck to a wall might not be my favourite memory,” she said with a half-smile.

Ned pointed his chopstick at Peter with renewed enthusiasm. “Yeah, dude, MJ’s right! And besides, no one could seriously hate Spider-Man. Except maybe Jameson. Oh! Or that guy who keeps graffitiing 'Bug-Menace' around Queens.”

MJ rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. Peter stayed quiet, his fingers tapping idly on the arm of the couch. “I hope so,” he said softly. “I really do.”

Peter’s phone buzzed sharply against the coffee table. He picked it up, and his expression shifted immediately as he read the notification.

“Uh-oh,” he muttered, standing so fast he nearly knocked over the bowl of noodles in front of him. “Guys, I’ve gotta go.”

MJ glanced up, her brow furrowing. “What now?”

“Tony,” Peter said hurriedly, shoving his phone into his pocket and grabbing his jacket. “He says he needs to talk. Like, now.”

Ned’s eyes widened, his chopsticks frozen mid-air. “Wait, Tony Stark? Oh man, what did you do? Did you, like, borrow one of his suits and break it? Or, ooh, did you accidentally blow up something expensive? Dude, what if it’s about that really bad landing you showed me last week—maybe it scratched one of his cars!”

Peter was already halfway to the door, fumbling with his jacket. “I didn’t do anything! At least... I don’t think I did? I don’t know—he just said it’s important.”

“Uh-huh,” Ned said, grinning. “Classic guilty guy response.”

MJ shook her head with a sigh. “Go, Peter. Save Stark’s tower, or whatever it is you do.”

Peter flashed them a quick, awkward wave before darting out the door. As it slammed shut, Ned turned to MJ, leaning closer.

“So, bets on what this is about?” he said, his voice conspiratorial. “I’m calling it—he knocked over a lab experiment. Or spilled coffee on one of those fancy holograms.”

MJ smirked, plucking a dumpling from Ned’s box. “I’m just betting he’s going to forget to update us about it. Again.”

Peter’s sneakers slapped against the pavement as he weaved through the bustling Midtown crowd, murmuring apologies when he brushed too close to a passerby. His chest tightened—not just from the brisk pace, but from the thought of keeping Tony waiting. Stark’s messages always carried a certain weight, even when they were just texts.

He could’ve swung there as Spider-Man. It would’ve been faster, easier—but not today. Today, he was just Peter Parker, rushing through the city like an ordinary guy on an extraordinarily tight schedule.

As he neared the block where Stark Tower loomed into the skyline, Peter’s focus tightened. He darted between two oncoming pedestrians, his head down, momentum propelling him—

And then it happened.

The collision was sudden, jarring. Peter stumbled back a step, wide-eyed as the woman in front of him staggered, nearly losing her balance. Instinct kicked in before his brain could catch up, his hand darting out to steady her. His arm slipped around her waist, his other hand brushing the small of her back. The force of their movements left her in a dip, the world tilting for just a moment as they froze in that precarious pose.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Peter stammered, his voice higher than usual as his cheeks flushed pink. “I wasn’t looking, I—”

Then he looked up.

His heart stopped. His grip on her waist tightened just slightly to keep her from slipping further, his breath catching in his throat.

It was her.

Peter blinked, his brain scrambling to process what his eyes were telling him. He was holding her—the girl he hadn’t stopped thinking about for a week, the girl he’d searched for as Spider-Man without any luck. And now, here she was, in his arms.

“Sh—shoot!” Peter fumbled, straightening her up quickly but awkwardly. “I—uh, you—hi?”

The word felt inadequate, and mentally smacked himself as his pulse hammered in his ears. Peter blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up with what had just happened. He was still holding onto [name], his hands hovering awkwardly after he helped her upright, as though unsure whether to steady her or let go entirely. Finally, his hands darted back to his sides, but he didn’t seem to know where to put them. They hovered, moved toward his pockets, and then he ended up running one through his curls in that nervous, habitual way of his.

“I—I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his words tripping over each other. “I didn’t see you, and then there was—well, me—and, uh, you’re—you’re not hurt, are you? Because that would be... bad. Obviously.”

[Name] tilted her head, giving him an odd look. She brushed herself off, more surprised than anything, and straightened her jacket. “I’m fine, but... are you okay?” she asked, her brow knitting slightly. “You seem... a little flustered.”

Peter let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Flustered? Me? No, no, I’m not flustered. Totally the opposite of flustered. Super un-flustered.”

Her skeptical expression didn’t budge, and Peter realized, too late, that he was still standing too close. He took a half-step back, his face burning. “Right. Uh. Sorry again. For, you know, crashing into you like a human wrecking ball.”

----------------------------[Name]----------------------------------

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, streaking the walls of [Name]’s apartment in soft, golden hues. She stretched lazily, savouring the rare luxury of a day off. No alarms, no urgent messages—just her and the day ahead. The kitchen hummed with warmth as she flipped a slice of bread onto the skillet, the sizzle of butter filling the air. Breakfast wasn’t much, just some toast and scrambled eggs, but she wasn’t in the mood for anything elaborate.

She had just settled onto her stool, the fork midway to her mouth, when her phone buzzed loudly on the counter. She glanced at the screen, reading Megan’s name with a slight roll of her eyes. What now? she thought, already bracing herself as she answered.

“Morning, Megan,” [Name] said, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Don’t tell me you’re working on my day off too.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘working,’” Megan replied, her tone dangerously cheerful, which only made her more suspicious. “Listen, I need a huge favour.”

{name} groaned audibly. “You know, that’s not how you start a conversation with someone who has scrambled eggs in front of them.”

“Hey, scrambled eggs will still be there in five minutes! And this is important. Life-saving, almost.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” She muttered, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. “What do you want?”

“There’s just... one teensy thing,” Megan said, her words speeding up. “Could you drop something off at Avengers Tower for me? Please?”

{name} nearly choked on her next bite, pulling the phone away to make sure she’d heard correctly. “You want me to go where now?”

“I know, I know, it’s out of the way,” Megan barreled on, “but I’m drowning in work and you’re off today, and you’re, like, so reliable—”

“I’m regretting being reliable,” [Name] cut in flatly, already glaring at the clock on the wall.

“Okay, okay! But hear me out—if you do this for me, I’ll get you that banoffee cheesecake you keep drooling over from that bakery. You know, the one you live around the corner from. Plus, I’ll owe you a drink. Two drinks, even! Consider it a bribe.”

The mention of the cheesecake gave her pause. She’d passed that bakery countless times, staring longingly through the window, but she’d never actually gone in. It was too indulgent, too decadent for her to justify on an ordinary day. But this... this was a tempting deal.

She sighed dramatically, propping her elbow on the counter. “Fine. But if they don’t have that cheesecake, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“Deal!” Megan chirped, her relief almost palpable. “I owe you one. You’re the best, seriously.”

“Uh-huh,” [Name] said, already making a mental note to find something suitably irritating to ask Megan for in return. “Text me the details.”

After hanging up, she looked at her half-finished breakfast and sighed again. So much for a slow morning. She cleaned up quickly, grabbed her jacket, and tucked her phone into her pocket, already wondering why she hadn’t just said no.

The street buzzed with life, a constant current of people streaming past, heads down, shoulders brushing. {Name} stood still on the footpath, her phone gripped tightly in her hand as she stared down at Megan’s text. The directions weren’t adding up. Left at 34th Street? Or was it right? And when did she pass a coffee shop? She huffed, scanning the intersection for some sort of landmark, but the towering buildings only made her feel smaller, more lost.

Another pedestrian brushed past her, muttering something under their breath, and she took a small step closer to the wall, trying to make herself less of an obstacle. The city moved around her with its usual indifference, the rush of footsteps and muted chatter blending into a blur.

“Okay, Megan,” {name} murmured to herself, squinting at the screen. “I’m either really bad at this, or you’re trying to send me on some wild—”

Boom.

The collision came out of nowhere, the force of it jarring her as though the world had knocked her off its axis. Her balance wavered, the ground beneath her feet tilting as she stumbled back. For a second, she thought she might fall, the chaos of the busy street rushing around her, swallowing her up.

But then, hands caught her.

One hand pressed firmly against her waist, the other brushing the small of her back, steadying her before gravity could take over. The sensation was grounding, unexpected. She blinked, disoriented, as her movement was stopped mid-motion—only to realize she was half-dipped, the world tilting slightly off-center as they both froze in place.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The buzz of the street faded into the background, drowned out by the sudden closeness. Her breath caught, the feel of those hands holding her steady making her pulse jump unexpectedly.

When her gaze shifted upward, she caught sight of the boy—wide-eyed and equally startled, his curls mussed and his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form words but couldn’t quite catch them. He was just as stunned as she was, the tension of the moment lingering as time seemed to hang in suspension.

The word he muttered felt strangely inadequate, almost laughable, given the impact and how he’d caught her. {Name} steadied herself, still faintly off-balance from the collision, and took in the flustered boy in front of her.

His hands hovered near her as though unsure whether to linger or retreat, a mix of hesitation and awkwardness that made him seem younger than she’d first thought. Then, with a suddenness that matched the collision, his hands darted back to his sides as if burned. But he didn’t seem to know what to do with them—they shifted toward his pockets, then jerked away again before one finally slid up to rake nervously through his tousled curls.

She watched him, curiosity piqued as his movements seemed to mirror the whirlwind in his head. [Name] adjusted her balance, brushing her hands down her sides as the unexpected collision faded from her immediate concern. She glanced up at him, her brows still slightly furrowed, but the curiosity in her gaze began to grow. There was something... endearing about the stranger in front of her.

He wasn’t what she’d call traditionally intimidating. His hoodie was slightly baggy, the sleeves pushed up haphazardly as though he’d been in a rush. A rucksack hung off one shoulder, the weight pulling the strap down enough to wrinkle his jacket. His jeans had seen better days—frayed at the cuffs and faded, like they’d been through countless city treks. But it wasn’t his clothes that caught her attention.

It was his face.

Her eyes lingered on the line of his jaw, soft enough to betray his youth but with a sharpness that hinted at something quietly determined. His cheeks were faintly flushed, likely from the rush, and his lips—slightly parted as though searching for words—seemed to tremble with unspoken nerves. Then there were his eyes—warm, brown, and darting nervously as if trying to do everything except meet hers.

He shifted on his feet, looking away suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. It made the mess of curls at the top of his head shift slightly, and he let out a nervous laugh as he muttered something incomprehensible. She caught herself smiling faintly, a little amused by the combination of clumsy charm and visible discomfort.

When his gaze finally snapped back to hers, it was like he’d caught her mid-thought. Her eyes were still on him, and his expression froze as his ears turned scarlet.

“Oh—uh,” he stammered, one hand tugging at his rucksack strap like it might shield him. “Were you... I mean, I wasn’t—uh—sorry?”

[Name] tilted her head slightly as she listened to him stumble over his words. Something about his voice tugged at the edges of her memory, a faint familiarity she couldn’t quite pin down. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the cadence, the tone—a mix of awkwardness and earnestness that felt oddly... recognizable.

“It’s okay,” she said eventually, cutting through his nervous ramble with a soft laugh. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t have just been standing there like that. Guess I was a little lost.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile widening. “So, I guess we’re both at fault.”

Peter blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her response. “Oh—uh, right. Yeah. Totally a mutual... thing. No harm, no foul,” he added quickly, though his tone wavered slightly. His hand darted up to tousle his hair again, a nervous habit she was starting to notice.

Her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, studying the way he seemed to bounce between confidence and uncertainty in the span of a few words. And yet, there was something genuine about him, even in his awkwardness.

[Name] shifted her weight slightly, tucking her phone into her pocket as the noise of the city surged around them again. She took a small step to the side, giving space to the steady flow of pedestrians who were starting to glance at their static exchange. Her smile lingered as she tilted her head.

“So, what about you?” she asked lightly, breaking the momentary silence. “Are you just out here crashing into people, or were you actually going somewhere?”

Peter blinked again, his lips parting slightly as though the question caught him off guard. “Oh! Uh, yeah. I mean—no! Not crashing into people. Definitely not. I was... heading somewhere. The, uh... tower.”

Her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. “The Avengers Tower?”

“Yep. That one,” Peter confirmed, nodding too quickly, his curls bouncing with the motion. “Big shiny building. Kinda hard to miss.”

{name} laughed softly, something in his over-eagerness catching her off guard. “Huh. That’s funny. I’m heading there too.” She paused, her lips twitching into a playful smirk. “Hopefully you don’t run into me again before we get there.”

Peter’s shoulders stiffened as his face flushed another shade of red. “I—uh, no, I don’t—well, I mean, if you wanted—wait, that came out wrong!” His hand shot up to rub the back of his neck again, and he let out a nervous laugh. “What I meant was, since I’m going that way, maybe... maybe I could, you know, walk with you? So you don’t... get lost again.”

She hesitated for a moment, studying him. There was something endearing in the way he fumbled, his words disjointed but never insincere. Finally, she nodded, her expression softening. “Sure. Why not?”

As they started walking, her steps matching his, she found herself sneaking a glance at him again. There was something oddly comforting about him, his awkwardness balancing out the intensity of the city around them. And for a reason she couldn’t quite place, she felt less lost now than she had minutes before.

As they walked, the silence between them stretched just long enough for Peter to start overthinking. Should I say something? Is it weird that I haven’t said anything? He glanced at her again, his nerves catching when he realized she was already looking at him.

“So...” she said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, “are you just going to walk me all the way there without telling me your name? Or is this like a mysterious, man-of-the-shadows kind of thing?”

Peter blinked, caught off guard. “Oh! Uh, no. Definitely not mysterious. I mean, I can be mysterious if that’s what you—wait, no, I didn’t mean—” He stopped, taking a breath. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his fumbling. “Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m [Name]. You can skip the mystery act—doesn’t seem like it’s your thing.”

Peter let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, not really my strong suit. I’m more of a... trip-over-my-own-words kind of guy, apparently.”

“Don’t worry,” [Name] replied, her tone teasing. “It’s working for you. Kind of... endearing.”

Peter’s face turned a shade of red that he was sure could be seen from space. “Endearing? Right. Uh, thanks. I think.”

[Name] laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, Peter Parker, how does someone like you end up heading to the Avengers Tower? Are you secretly Tony Stark’s protégé or something?”

His brain stalled at the question, his thoughts scrambling for a believable answer. “Oh, no. Nothing like that,” he said quickly. “I, uh, just do some work with... science stuff. You know, like... projects. Boring stuff.”

“Science stuff?” she repeated, clearly skeptical but too entertained to press further. “That’s about as vague as it gets.”

“Yeah, well, it’s... top-secret,” Peter said, attempting a sheepish grin. “You know how it is.”

She gave him a sideways glance, her smirk widening. “Uh-huh. Totally.”

Peter breathed a small sigh of relief as they continued walking, though he couldn’t help but glance at her again. For now, he just hoped he didn’t embarrass himself any further before they got to the tower.

Peter walked alongside [name], his mind began to wander back to the night they had met. He couldn't help but recall the way she had tasted, the sweet scent of her skin and the musky flavour of her arousal. He remembered the way her leg had felt, thrown over his shoulder as he had his mouth on her core, the way she had trembled and moaned beneath him. It had been a week since that encounter, but the memories still felt vivid and raw.

As Peter’s thoughts started spiralling, a faint blush began to crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. He quickly looked away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as if that might somehow ground him. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the memory looping in his head. “So, uh,” he started, his voice cracking slightly, “nice day, huh?”

The second the words left his mouth, he cringed internally. Nice day? Seriously, Parker? Who says that? He risked a glance at [Name] out of the corner of his eye, hoping she hadn’t noticed the sheer awkwardness radiating off him. But the flush rising to his cheeks wasn’t helping. He could feel it, spreading like wildfire, and it only made him feel even more ridiculous.

He tried to focus on something else—anything else—but his mind stubbornly circled back to that night. The way she’d made him feel, the way he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since. It was overwhelming in a way he hadn’t expected, and definitely hadn’t prepared for. He took a deep breath, determined to calm down and act normal. Act cool, Peter. Just be cool.

And then, in true Peter Parker style, he tripped over his own feet.

“Whoa—” he stumbled, flailing for a split second before catching himself. His heart jumped into his throat, and his eyes darted toward {name}, who had stopped in her tracks, looking at him with a mix of concern and mild amusement.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tilted her head.

Peter nodded a little too quickly, brushing invisible dust off his hoodie like that would erase the embarrassment. “Yeah! Yep, totally fine,” he said, his words tumbling out too fast. “Just, uh, testing the pavement. You know, making sure it’s, uh, level. For, like... walking. Yeah.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking upward as she tried to keep her composure. But the sheer absurdity of his explanation, combined with the look of panic on his face, broke her. A laugh bubbled out of her—loud, genuine, and completely unrestrained. She doubled over slightly, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath.

Peter froze, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amazed—or maybe both. He watched her laugh, the way her eyes lit up and her shoulders shook, like the sound itself carried more warmth than anything he’d felt all day. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. How does someone laugh like that?

As her laughter finally subsided, she straightened up, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. “Wow,” she said, still grinning as she looked at him. “You’re, uh... really good at your job, Mr. Sidewalk Tester. Top-tier work.”

Peter’s face burned hotter, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. “Uh, thanks,” he managed, his voice a little quieter now. “I, uh... try my best.”

{name} chuckled again, softer this time, and started walking. Peter hesitated for half a beat before falling into step beside her, the ghost of her laugh still echoing in his ears.

______________________________________________________

The Avengers Tower came into view, its sleek lines and unmistakable logo cutting through the city skyline. Peter slowed his steps slightly, his chest tightening as they neared the entrance. It wasn’t the sight of the tower that left him conflicted—it was the thought of parting ways with [Name]. He’d just found her again. How could this be it?

As they reached the revolving doors, Peter hesitated, glancing at her. His brain scrambled for something to say, some excuse to keep her from disappearing into the crowd outside. “So, uh, I guess... this is where we part ways?” he said, his tone faltering slightly.

[Name] tilted her head, her expression softening as she noticed the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said, though there was a touch of reluctance in her voice. “Thanks for, you know, helping me not get lost again.”

Peter let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, no problem. I’m, uh, always happy to assist with... navigation. It’s kind of my thing.”

Before either of them could say anything more, the sliding glass doors parted with a soft whoosh, and a familiar voice echoed from inside the lobby.

“Underoos!”

Peter stiffened instantly, his face flushing as he turned toward the source of the voice. There, standing casually in the center of the lobby, was none other than Tony Stark—sunglasses perched on his nose, a smirk tugging at his lips as he gestured impatiently.

“Come on, kid, clock’s ticking. Some of us have empires to run,” Tony said, folding his arms as he leaned slightly to one side. His gaze shifted briefly to [name], one eyebrow raising as if to silently assess the situation before flicking back to Peter. “You planning on standing there all day, or are you actually gonna show up for this meeting?”

{name} froze beside Peter, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. Her hand flew to her mouth, barely suppressing a gasp. “Oh my god. Is that—”

“Tony Stark? Yeah,” Peter mumbled, his voice suddenly quieter as he looked down at his shoes. “It’s, uh, kind of a long story.”

[Name] stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and awe. “You know Tony Stark?”

Peter winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I mean... yeah. He’s, uh, my... mentor. Kind of.”

Tony’s smirk widened as he stepped forward, clearly catching the tail end of the conversation. “Mentor? That’s generous, kid. More like babysitter. And speaking of babysitting, you’re late. Let’s move it.”

Peter hesitated, glancing at [Name] one last time, the tug-of-war in his chest making it hard to find the right words. “Uh, I—guess I should... go,” he said reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

[Name] nodded slowly, still looking at him like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. “Yeah... sure,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Good luck with, uh, whatever it is you do.”

As Peter turned to follow Tony toward the elevator, his thoughts raced. This couldn’t be the end—not like this. He’d just found her again, after all the wondering and what felt like an impossible coincidence. How could he let her slip away so easily? His feet dragged slightly, his mind already churning for a reason—any reason—to talk to her again. But Tony was jabbing at the elevator buttons impatiently, his voice cutting through Peter's spiralling thoughts.

“Come on, kid,” Tony drawled, tapping his watch for emphasis. “This century would be great. Some of us actually have things to do.”

Peter flinched slightly at Tony’s words, though his gaze drifted back toward the lobby. There she was, standing at the counter, exchanging a polite smile with the receptionist as she handed over the package. Her posture eased as she took a small step back, clearly relieved to be done with the errand. Now heading toward the doors. His stomach flipped. This can’t be it, he thought, panic bubbling in his chest. He’d spent a week wondering if he’d ever see her again, and now she was just going to walk out of his life for good?

Before he could think twice, Peter blurted out, “Wait!” His feet moved on their own, dashing out of the elevator area and toward the lobby. “[Name]!”

[Name] paused at the sound of her name, turning around just as Peter nearly skidded to a stop in front of her. He was out of breath, his curls slightly dishevelled from the rush, and his face was an even deeper shade of red than before.

“I, uh, I just...” He faltered, one hand shooting up to ruffle his hair nervously while the other hovered at his side, unsure of what to do. “I mean, I know we just met, and you’re probably busy, and this is totally random, but I was wondering if—uh, I mean, maybe—you know, if I could, uh... get your number?”

[Name] blinked, her brows raising slightly as she stared at him in surprise. Peter fumbled on, his words tumbling out faster.

“Not—not for anything weird!” he clarified quickly, waving his hands. “Just, you know, in case you get lost again! Or, uh, if you ever want to... talk? Or something? Totally up to you, of course. No pressure.”

He trailed off, his hand finding the back of his neck as his gaze dropped to the floor. He felt like his heart might pound right out of his chest. Why did I say that?

For a moment, there was silence—then a smile crept across {name}’s face, her eyes softening at his earnestness. “Sure,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I think I can make room in my life for the Sidewalk Tester Extraordinaire.”

Peter’s head snapped up, blinking at her in disbelief. “Wait—really?”

She laughed lightly, handing him her phone to put his number in. “Really.”

Peter fumbled with her phone, his hands shaking slightly as he typed in his number. Tony’s voice called out from the elevator area, “Parker! You’ve got about ten seconds before I leave your scrawny butt here!”

Peter handed the phone back quickly, giving [Name] a sheepish smile. “Thanks. I, uh, gotta go, but... I’ll text you. Or call. Or both. Okay, bye!”

And with that, he darted back toward the elevator, a triumphant grin creeping onto his face despite Tony’s exaggerated eye roll as the doors slid shut.

[Name] watched him go, her own smile lingering as she pocketed her phone. “Interesting day,” she murmured to herself, before stepping out into the city streets.

_____________________________________________________________

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, enclosing Peter and Tony in the sleek, mirrored box as they ascended the tower. The hum of the elevator filled the silence, but Peter could feel Tony’s eyes on him. He shifted awkwardly, glancing at the floor display as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“So,” Tony said after a long beat, his tone casual but laced with amusement, “you wanna tell me what that little lobby sprint was about?”

Peter’s shoulders hunched slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, nothing. It wasn’t—it’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, his ears turning red.

“Uh-huh,” Tony replied, clearly unconvinced. He leaned back against the elevator wall, arms folded, giving Peter a pointed look. “Kid, you were practically tripping over yourself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re smitten. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

Peter’s face flushed deeper, and he shook his head quickly. “No! I mean—well, maybe, but that’s not—it’s not like that. I was just, you know... being polite.”

Tony let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Polite. Sure, we’ll go with that. Polite enough to chase her down like a rom-com protagonist in the third act.”

Peter groaned softly, burying his face in his hands for a moment before peeking at Tony through his fingers. “Can we not talk about this? Please?”

Then his tone shifted, becoming more business-like. “Anyway, let’s talk about why you’re actually here. Took you so long down there, I almost thought you’d forgotten you had a meeting with me. Classic Parker.”

Peter perked up slightly, grateful for the pivot to something—anything—other than his lobby debacle. “Right. Yeah. Uh... so, what’s going on? You said it was important.”

Tony glanced at him, his expression sharpening just slightly, though a flicker of amusement still danced at the edges. “F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted me an incident that happened last week. Thought I’d get the full, unabridged Parker version."

Peter stiffened immediately, his heart leaping into his throat. “An incident?” he repeated, his voice a little higher than intended. “I—I mean, there wasn’t really, uh, anything that big… I think?” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, racking his brain for what Tony might be referring to.

But as he stood there, he couldn't shake off the flashes of memory that suddenly assaulted him - the sound of her moans, low and throaty, the way her head had thrown back in abandon, her eyes closed in ecstasy. He felt a surge of heat run through his body, and he quickly looked away, trying to compose himself. But the images lingered, and he could almost smell the scent of her skin, feel the softness of her lips. He cleared his throat, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only seemed to intensify, making his face grow hotter by the second. "I mean, what kind of incident?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice came out a little shaky, and he couldn't meet Tony's eye, fearing that his friend might see right through him.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, good. It’s always reassuring when the guy with superpowers is vague about incidents.” He folded his arms, giving Peter a pointed look. “Look, F.R.I.D.A.Y doesn’t flag stuff for fun. Something about, oh, I don’t know, webbing showing up in places it shouldn’t? Ringing any bells, Underoos?”

Peter’s face flushed as the realization hit him. “Oh. That,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the elevator buttons. “I mean, it wasn’t really a big thing... just, uh, a minor thing. Very minor. Like, almost not even a thing.”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kid, do me a favour—don’t ever try to sell anything. You’d starve.” He glanced at the panel above the elevator door as the numbers ticked higher. “You can give me your very minor, not-a-thing report then.”

Peter shifted awkwardly, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets as he tried to calm the sudden swarm of nerves twisting in his stomach. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good,” he muttered, his voice just shy of confident. _____________________________________________________

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the sleek upper floors of the Avengers Tower. Tony stepped out first, his stride confident as always, while Peter trailed behind, feeling like he was walking into a trap he didn’t quite understand yet. His heart was already racing.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. Hello, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. greeted, her calm, precise voice filling the corridor.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Peter mumbled, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets, his nerves eating away at him. The fact that she’d been part of his suit since Tony upgraded him was usually a comfort, but now it felt more like having a tattletale glued to his side.

“Afternoon, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony said casually, his tone light as he stepped into the corridor. "Care to tell me what happen. Parker?"

Peter’s stomach flipped. Oh no. This was it.

He turned to face Peter, his arms folding over his chest, a smirk already tugging at his lips. “Did you have a big night out you forgot to invite me to? I thought we were friends.”

Peter froze, his face heating. “Uh... I mean, I don’t... it wasn’t big, exactly,” he stammered, his words tumbling over each other. “It was just—uh—a thing. A small thing. Like, super small. Barely worth mentioning.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his expression practically daring Peter to continue. What’s this ‘small thing’ our dear Spider-kid is trying so hard to downplay F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“I have a report ready for you, sir,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement. “However, if Peter would prefer to explain it in his own words, I’m sure it would be... enlightening.”

Peter shot a betrayed look at the ceiling. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.! I thought we were cool!”

“I am merely ensuring you have the opportunity to be honest, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied smoothly.

Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “So, kid... care to enlighten me? Or do I have to review the play-by-play F.R.I.D.A.Y. so thoughtfully uploaded to the server?”

Peter groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Do I really have to say?”

Tony leaned back on his heels, his smirk growing impossibly wider. “Oh, yes you do,” he said, his tone dripping with that unmistakable Stark charm.

Peter shifted uncomfortably under Tony’s gaze, and then—like a dam bursting—words started spilling out of him in a frantic rush. “Okay, okay! So, I was out patrolling, right? You know, just doing the usual Spider-Man stuff, and then I saw this — Like, this really pretty girl, and she was kind of in danger, so I, uh, saved her.”

Tony raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his silence only adding fuel to Peter’s nervous rambling.

“And, uh, you know, she was really grateful, like... really grateful. So, she, uh...” Peter’s voice wavered, his cheeks heating up as he gestured vaguely. “She kissed me. And it was, um, really nice?"

"And it may- or may not have gone... further.."

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, his smirk instantly shifting into full-blown amusement. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as if Peter had just become the most entertaining thing in the room. “Oh, Parker, you are killing me,” he said, dragging out the words with a laugh. “Further, huh? Now you’ve got my attention. Spill. What exactly is ‘further’ in Spider-kid terms? Holding hands? A second kiss? Oh wait—did she braid your web shooters?”

Peter’s face turned a violent shade of red, and he practically buried himself in his hoodie. “It’s not like that!” he squeaked, his voice cracking. “I mean, it wasn’t... it wasn’t, like, that far! Just... you know... stuff”

Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and grinning like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse. “Stuff, huh? Love the specifics. You’re really painting a picture here.”

Peter pulled his hood tighter over his head. “Why do you do this to me? I’m never going to live this down.” Groaning aloud.

"But then she tried to take my mask off, and I panicked! Because, you know, secret identity and all that! So, uh... I might’ve... webbed her wrist to the wall.”

Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up at Tony. “And I didn’t think it was a big deal! I mean, I figured, you know, she was fine, and nobody saw, and it was totally handled. I didn’t know F.R.I.D.A.Y. was gonna rat me out!”

The words came tumbling out so fast that Peter barely had time to breathe, his curls bouncing as he gestured animatedly. By the time he finished, his face was burning, and he looked at Tony like he was waiting for the hammer to drop.

Tony chuckled, giving Peter a once-over, his smirk widening to something borderline predatory. “Relax, Parker. Webbing her to the wall? Really? Bold choice." He leaned in, a glint in his eye. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't spill the beans, but I did notice you asked her to run a check on a certain someone. My curiosity was piqued, so I took a look myself. And let's just say I was very surprised, Peter."

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyebrows shooting up as he smirked. “Sounds like you had quite the dining experience, didn’t you?” His voice dripped with mock seriousness, but the mischievous glint in his eye was unmistakable.“ I didn’t watch anything. Bleach in eyes and all that,”

Peter’s face flushed a fiery red, and he buried his hands in his hoodie, his voice rising in protest. “Oh my god, can you not?!"

Tony held up his hands, though his smirk didn’t falter. “Hey, I’m just pointing out that maybe, just maybe, you’ve got some things to learn about handling these situations. Try not to dine on someone next time? That’s not a solution, kid—that’s a headline.”

Peter turned to Tony, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Wait a second... You knew when you messaged me to come here? About what happened?” He gestured vaguely, still flustered. “Why did you want me to tell you if you already knew?”

Tony leaned back casually, crossing his arms and letting out a low chuckle. “Because, kid, it’s fun.” He shrugged, his smirk widening into that unmistakable Stark brand of mischief. “You have this way of tripping over your own words and digging the hole deeper. Pulling your leg a bit? It’s like a free comedy show.”

Peter groaned, running a hand down his face. “Seriously? You called me all the way here just to mess with me?”

“Messing with you is just the icing on the cake,” Tony shot back smoothly. “I mean, come on—hearing the story straight from you is way better than reading F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s report. She’s great, but she doesn’t quite capture the sheer panic in your voice.” He leaned forward, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “And let’s face it, Parker: you’re a terrible liar.”

Peter glared at him, his face still flushed from embarrassment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Tony clapped him on the shoulder, unfazed. “And yet, here you are, spilling your guts. I’m just that lovable.”

Peter shook his head, muttering under his breath as he sank into a chair. “I don’t know why I put up with this.”

Tony grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Because deep down, you know I’m right. Now, how about we skip the dramatics and focus on what really matters—like how you’re going to make sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t flag another ‘incident’ anytime soon.”

Peter groaned, pulling his hood tighter. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because it’s fun,” Tony quipped, clapping Peter on the shoulder.

Peter looked up at him, his brows furrowing. “Wait, you’re not mad?”

Tony threw out an exaggerated scoff. “Nah. Not even close. But hey, you certainly showed her the real meaning of Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man. Very... hands-on, Parker.”

“You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

Tony grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Not a chance, Underoos. This one’s going in the Hall of Fame.”

Peter groaned again, dragging his hands down his face as if it might somehow erase the last five minutes of his life. Just as he was about to mumble another protest, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Grateful for the distraction, he fished it out, squinting at the screen. His brows furrowed when he saw the notification: a text from an unknown number.

UNKOWN: " Hi Sidewalk Tester Extraordinaire."

The nickname was so specific, so perfectly her, that it left no doubt in his mind who had sent it.

For a moment, the embarrassment of Tony’s relentless teasing faded into the background. Maybe, just maybe, all the ribbing had been worth it. She’d texted him. That had to mean something, right?

Before he could spiral too far into his thoughts, Tony’s voice cut through the moment like a laser. “What’s got you grinning like that, Parker? Did the Queen knight you in secret, or is it something juicier?”

Peter quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, trying and failing to mask his reaction. “It’s nothing. Just—uh—spam. Yeah, totally spam. You know how weird spam messages get.”

Tony tilted his head, his smirk widening as he narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Spam, huh? So, let me guess—this ‘spam’ wouldn’t happen to be from the girl in the lobby earlier, would it?”

Peter froze, his jaw dropping. “What? How do you—wait, girl in the lobby? What are you talking about?”

Tony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the nearest desk. “Oh, come on, Parker. Genius, remember? I put two and two together the second you started stumbling over your words earlier. You’re bad at lying, kid. Really bad.”

Peter groaned, dragging a hand down his face as his cheeks burned. “Okay, fine! Yes, it’s her. Happy now?”

Tony grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Absolutely. You make this way too easy, you know that?”

Peter slumped into a chair, muttering under his breath. But despite his protests, he couldn’t wipe the small, stupid smile off his face.

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

I hope its alright? XD got a bit stuck at the end ahaha.

Tried to make it a little funny, I hope it flowed?

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (Part 5)

I’ve been making a lot of progress on Incredibles au fics lately haha. Here we are at part five, checking in with the Wild, Hyrule, Twilight and Time group! Things are really picking up now...

Mild injury warning, along with a little violence and some guns being shot.

First | Previous | Next

————————————————————

Wild was dragging behind.

He knew he was, and it was driving him crazy, but moving faster took so much effort now. Was this how everybody else had to run? It was awful. His feet felt so heavy, and his arms too, and his head, and legs, and lungs... it was like his whole body had been stuck in a big vat of honey.

At least they could only go so fast anyway, considering that Twilight frequently lost control and careened into a wall. Wild felt bad for him, but also couldn’t help a few snickers at the frequency of his speed-related crashes. Especially with their dad in his arms. He made an awfully cute bunny.

Hyrule was the one he really felt bad for though. He still looked so shaken, and occasionally little panicked spurts of flurries escaped his fingertips. Wild would be the last to suggest his mom’s powers weren’t cool, but he was a teeny bit jealous that he hadn’t gotten ice to shoot out of his hands. Plus maybe Hyrule would be a little calmer without ice randomly spirting from his fingertips.

How come Mom can’t shoot horses out of her hands or something? That would be cool.

...I hope she and everyone else are okay.

“Wild, keep up,” his father called, and Wild bit back a growl when he realized just how far behind he was. Stupid scientist. Stupid mixed-up powers. Stupid—

Wild finally caught up with the others again, his dad giving him a sympathetic look. Wild ignored it, and kept plodding forward, trying to not think about his heavy feet. They were trying to make it to the elevator, Twilight sheepishly admitting he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle stairs, but it was taking forever to get down the hallway they were pretty sure led there.

As Wild dragged himself along, half-listening to Twilight talking to Hyrule, something hit his ear, a noise somewhere that he didn’t recognize. Wild stopped in his tracks, then tilted his head to try and listen to it.

It was something squeaky almost, a distant sound he couldn’t really make out too well. But something about what he could hear made him want to follow it, and... stop the sadness he could hear in the sound.

“Wild? Is something wrong?” Hyrule asked, looking back at him.

“No, I... maybe? I hear something,” Wild admitted, and they all drew to a stop.

“What kind of something?”

“Like... crying? Like someone’s upset? It’s not words, exactly, I... oh, maybe it’s an animal,” Wild realized. “Can Mom hear other animals too?”

“She can only really understand ones with hooves, but she can get the gist with other animals sometimes,” Twilight spoke up. “I mean, she understands me when I’m a wolf at least.”

“That’s merely because she’s had lots of practice with you,” their father spoke up, nose twitching. “And the blood relation likely affects that. But yes, she can somewhat understand other animals.”

Wild frowned and tilted his head again, listening.

“You said it sounded like crying?” Twilight asked worriedly, and Wild nodded.

“Yeah... sort of. It’s hard to explain.”

The noise he could hear was a squeaky sort of cry, faint, but just legible enough for Wild to make it out. And though there were no words, somehow he knew whatever was making the sound was afraid.

“I think I need to help it,” Wild said quietly, and Hyrule hesitated.

“But our powers...”

“I don’t think this’ll take long,” Wild reassured. Though it would take even less long if I had my proper powers. “And...” He turned towards a hallway, staring down it. “...I think it’s right over there.”

“I can hear it too,” Time said, and frowned, a floppy ear swiveling around. “It’ll be a quick detour, let’s go.”

“But our powers... ohh okay,” Hyrule sighed, and followed after them all.

Wild led the way, slow as he was, but he wasn’t thinking about it as much as he listened to the sound. It only got louder as he walked, and Wild focused all his attention on the whimpering squeaks ringing through the hallway. He came to a stop at one of the last doors in the hall, the noises obviously coming from behind it, and he turned the handle.

The door slowly moved open, Wild relieved it wasn’t locked. He cautiously poked his head inside, and along with his siblings and dad, looked around for any kind of threats.

The room that met him was dim, but there were enough lights for Wild to see. Small cages were set on various surfaces, all empty as far as Wild could tell, and nobody seemed to be in this room. Clipboards and beakers and random other pieces of equipment Wild didn’t recognize caught his eye, and he wandered among them in mild interest, still listening for the small cries as the others came in behind him.

He heard one, louder now that he was in the room, and followed the sound past some tables laden with big sciencey stuff he didn’t recognize.

Then he saw the last cage.

It was really small, maybe about as tall as two shoeboxes stacked together. Something pale was curled up inside of it, and as Wild stepped forward, a blue head rose up, golden eyes settling on him.

Wild froze as they locked gazes, and Twilight gasped.

“Oh my gosh. A blupee,” Twilight whispered as Wild approached the cage, his voice awed.

“A what?” Hyrule asked, and Twilight swallowed.

“A blupee, they’re legendary creatures, I’ve read about them in stuff. They were thought to either be extinct or just... not exist,” he whispered.

Time stood up in his arms to get a better look, and Wild hesitantly extended a hand, setting it against the bars of the cage. The little creature watched him in silence, and Wild murmured in a soothing way almost instinctively, which made its feathery antennae perk up.

It moved towards where Wild’s hand was pressed against the cage, and rubbed against it, silky fur brushing against his fingers.

“How did the scientist guy get one of these?” Wild asked in amazement, and Time hopped out of Twilight’s arms, sniffing around at some of the materials on the tables.

“I don’t know, I... this is crazy,” Twilight spluttered, his eyes huge as he watched Wild pet the blupee. “This is like— this is like finding a unicorn, Wild! Most people don’t think they ever even existed!”

“Cool,” Wild grinned, still petting. They had a handful of kid books still around the house that had blupees in them, and Wild would recognize the heart-shaped face and golden eyes anywhere. He looked around for the latch of the cage, and frowned at the signs of wear on the bars, tiny useless scratches made on them. “...It looks like he’s been here a while.”

“I think you’re right,” Time said grimly, and Wild looked over, quickly biting his lip to stop himself from laughing at his father. His head had turned invisible, and he obviously hadn’t realized it.

“Did you find something, Dad?” Hyrule asked with a smile he tried to hide, and Time hummed, and probably nodded as well.

“Yes. These are all notes on genes and cloning... I think this scientist made our friend here.”

Wild looked at the blupee again, and it stared back, cocking its head to the side as it looked at him. It’s face was almost owlish, heart-shaped and paler blue than the rest of its fur. It’s body was more rabbit-like, and between the color of its fur and the odd antennae-ear things on its head, it really did look like something out of a storybook rather than a real animal.

Yet I’m standing here petting it, he thought in wonder, running a finger along silky fur again.

“Well gene stuff would explain some things I guess,” Twilight murmured, hesitantly offering his finger for the blupee to sniff. “I wonder how he did it.”

“Beats me. Maybe— hey wait a second, why is he trying to mess with us?” Wild asked, frowning at the thought he’d just had. “He can make extinct animals! He could be using this technology for all kinds of good sciencey stuff, why do illegal things with it?”

“I don’t know. But perhaps he wasn’t just interested in cloning back practically mythical species,” Time frowned, his fuzzy head shimmering back into view. “He did seem rather obsessed with our powers. I think it’s even more important that we go stop him.”

“Agreed,” Twilight said as he turned around, then accidentally ran headlong into a table and went sprawling onto the ground with a bang. “...Ugh. The sooner the better.”

Twilight stumbled to his feet with Hyrule’s assistance, and Wild found the lock on the cage, jiggling it to try and open the latch. But it was shut tight, and Wild didn’t have anything he could pick the lock with. Not that he knew how to pick locks anyway.

“Oh come on,” he groaned, and Time peered at the latch, furry brow furrowed.

“Hyrule, do you think you could freeze the lock off?” he asked. Hyrule hesitated, looking at his hands, and then the cage.

“Maybe?” he said uncertainly, and Twilight smiled at him as he clutched at a table.

“I bet you can do it Rulie, it’s just some metal. No finesse required or anything.”

“Yeah, all you have to do it get it so cold that it falls off!” Wild encouraged, and Hyrule moved forward with a shrug.

“I’ll try.”

Hyrule put a hand on the latch, then screwed his face up, a handful of flurries sprinkling from his fingers. Feathers of ice began to spread across the metal, and Wild watched in interest as they grew thicker, and colder too. He had to pull back a little at the intense temperature, and snow began drifting from Hyrule’s hands, piling by his feet.

The blupee stepped back as well, and the minutes ticked by, ice spreading across the cage and to the table and floor below them. Wild was about to ask if they should try something else when Hyrule reached out and grasped the latch, obviously unbothered by the cold. He yanked on it, and the entire door snapped loose, leaving a hole in the cage where it had been.

“Nice job!” Twilight said with a grin, and Hyrule blushed, setting the destroyed handle down.

Wild didn’t stick around to listen to Hyrule insist it was no big deal when their father also congratulated him, moving forward towards the blupee. It let out what sound like a relieved chirp, slowly padding over to him and nuzzling against his hand.

Wild carefully picked it up, relieved when it didn’t resist him. It was weird that it was so comfortable with him, since it didn’t even have hooves... though Mom did tend to be a calming presence on all animals. Or maybe it was calmed by a fellow rabbity-thing being here? It did keep looking over at Time.

Time noticed as well, and he padded closer, his nose wiggling. The blupee looked at him, then softly chirped, Time pricking his ears.

“Yes? I— yes, I can hear you,” he replied, and the blupee repeated its chirp in a slightly different tone. “No, I’m not one of your kind, I’m sorry. You— really?”

The blupee chittered some more, and Time hummed along as it chirped, looking thoughtful.

“You can understand him? What’s he saying?” Wild asked, and his father twitched an ear.

“Mostly just questions about us. They’re not exactly words, I’m only getting the gist of most of it. He’s relieved we’re here, though. He says you’re calming Wild.”

“Wild, calming?” Twilight said, and Wild gave him a light kick. Twilight grinned, and the blupee nibbled at Wild’s hand a bit, then settled itself with a little sigh in his arms, eyes narrowing to small slits.

“He looks tired,” Hyrule said as he studied the blupee, peering over Wild’s shoulder. “You think he’s sick?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think he’s just... weak from being in a cage,” Wild said. Somehow he had a feeling the blupee needed to get outside, and be around plants and trees instead of cold metal and sanitizer. “Don’t worry, you can come with us, little guy.”

“Is that a good idea?” Hyrule asked, and Time shook himself, all of him finally visible again.

“We could leave him here and retrieve him later,” he suggested, but Twilight frowned.

“What if somebody comes in and sees the cage broken? And decides to move him? He’ll be safer with us,” he argued. Time sighed again.

“All right. We’ll bring him, and hopefully find a safe spot to put him if there’s a fight.”

“Oh there’s gonna be a fight,” Wild said darkly.

His father gave him a look, and Wild cleared his throat, but didn’t take it back. He thought he deserved at least one solid punch to the scientist guy’s face. If nothing else for the look on Hyrule’s face when he’d first woken up and realized his powers were gone.

“I don’t think there’s anything else for us to do here, let’s head out,” Time decided, and they did one last quick sweep of the room, then headed back out to the hallway. Time directed them towards the elevator, and Wild kept the blupee securely in his arms, its eyes staying mostly closed.

Its fur was soft and silky, almost like velvet, and while it was warm, it wasn’t as warm as Wild would’ve expected. The golden antennae brushed against his face once, and they were as feathery as they looked. It really was a fantastical-looking creature, and Wild still couldn’t quite believe it was real.

And neither could Twilight, based on the fact that he spent most of his time staring at it.

“Say Dad, do you think we could have a pet?” Wild asked innocently, and Time shot him a look as they all piled in the elevator.

“No.”

Hyrule pushed the button for the top floor, and Time began talking strategy for when they found the scientist. Hyrule had to take him from Twilight since his legs were jittering weirdly again and their father’s voice kept shaking due to it, and between that and his squeakier than normal voice, his words were impossible to make out. Wild for once listened intently, idly petting the blupee as Time went on about strategy. Normally he’d only half-listen to the plan and go along with his pieces of it, but this was a big deal. Powers were on the line.

Wild didn’t even want to consider what would happen if they couldn’t get them back.

“We’ll try and touch base with the others, but if nobody is there, we’ll go alone,” Time finished, and shook out his fur. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, are uh... you going to fight as a bunny?” Twilight asked, and their father’s face grew extremely annoyed.

“Seeing as I can’t figure out how to turn back... yes.”

The elevator chimed as Twilight began asking if he wanted any help, the top floor reached, and Wild cracked his knuckles as the doors opened.

Then froze, an entire group of guards waiting for them on the other side.

Someone gasped, and Time shouted for them to get down, Wild tripping when he instinctively went to run forward and do something before the guards could react. Argh! Stupid powers!

The guards aimed their guns, and everybody dove for the floor, Wild mashing the elevator button to try and get the doors to close.

Nothing happened, and Hyrule scrambled forward and put out his hands, obviously trying to make a shield. All that came out was a huge blast of ice right as the first guards fired, but it actually did a good job of keeping their shots from hitting them, and Hyrule hurriedly worked on making the barrier more solid, trying to thicken the ice.

Twilight suddenly bolted forward, his legs flailing, but he managed to aim a punch at the first guard he went by, the man going sprawling from the hit to his chin. Wild scrambled over to where their dad was standing behind Hyrule, obviously trying to change back into a hylian if the look on his face was any indication.

“Ideas?!” Wild asked in a panic, Hyrule scrambling to keep his ice up and protecting them. “The elevator won’t close!”

“They must have disabled it, they were expecting us,” Time said in dismay, flinching as Twilight narrowly dodged a strike. “We’ll have to break past them somehow.”

“Oh, easy,” Wild muttered, ducking down as something whizzed past his head. The blupee squeaked in distress, and he held it a little tighter, making sure his suit was shielding it. “Maybe Twi can—”

Hyrule suddenly cried out beside them, making both their heads shoot up.

Hyrule stumbled backwards, hand held to the small part of his neck that wasn’t covered by his suit, and Wild saw a dart stuck there, brightly colored on the end.

Tranquilizer.

Well at least they don’t want us dead! Wild thought hysterically as Hyrule swayed on his feet.

His legs abruptly gave out on him, and Time rushed to his side, Twilight still running around wildly on the other side of the ice and doing his best to fight. Wild dove for Hyrule as well, hiding behind the thickest piece of ice there was, and the blupee chittered fearfully, huddling down in his arms.

“You’re okay, it’s just a tranquilizer,” Time reassured in a voice Wild could tell he was forcing to be calm, Hyrule’s eyes looking bleary and terrified. “You’ll wake up soon. It’ll be okay.”

Hyrule shook a little as Time stayed huddled beside him, keeping a paw resting on his head, and then his eyes rolled back and slipped close, body going limp.

“Dad?” Wild asked in a small voice, and Time slowly breathed out.

“See if you can get to Twilight, that’s your best bet,” he said, giving him a steady look, then raised his head, glaring at the guards.

Then he leapt out from their icy shield, throwing himself at the nearest guard with a shout. The man yelped and tried to shake him off, but Time clung on to his clothing, scratching and biting wherever he could reach.

Wild watched him with wide eyes, then shifted the blupee around so he was holding it with one arm. He tugged Hyrule’s limp form up with his other, grunting from the effort, but he wasn’t going to leave him here. Dad had said to get to Twilight, so that’s what Wild would do.

With the vague plan they’d had currently in shambles, Wild was pretty sure their best bet now was to make a break for it in the other direction, and hopefully Twilight could carry Hyrule better than he could until he woke up.

“Hold on Rulie,” Wild grunted.

He got as good of a grip as he could on his brother, and then bolted out from behind the ice, cursing his maddeningly slow legs. It felt like he was barely making any progress, and he growled in frustration as he half-dragged Hyrule across the floor.

If I had my powers I’d be on the other side of the room by now no problem, Hyrule would be safe, Twilight wouldn’t have to be tripping around all crazily, Dad wouldn’t—

A guard noticed him and shouted, Time and Twilight no longer capturing all of their attentions. Wild yelped and ducked under a shot that grazed the tip of his ear, and hurried even faster, dodging and swerving all while trying not to drop Hyrule or the blupee.

He’d never missed his speed more.

A sharp pain suddenly hit Wild in the neck, and he gasped, stumbling as he felt at it. Something was stuck there, and Wild abruptly caught his father’s eye from across the room, a cold feeling running up his neck.

“No!” Time shouted, his tiny body flickering rapidly in and out of sight, but Wild could barely focus on him, his legs wobbling out from under him.

He stumbled, going to his knees but still holding tight to Hyrule. The blupee jumped out of his arms, squeaking in distress, but the noise faded in and out in Wild’s ears, his vision starting to give out.

“Duskfall! Get out of here and go find the others!” Time’s voice shouted, Wild blearily noting Twilight’s hero name. Wonder why he used that...

“I’m not going to—whooaa—leave you guys!” Twilight shouted back, barely avoiding losing his balance as he dodged a shot. “Not like this!”

“That’s an order! We need backup, and you’re the only one of us who can run!”

“But Wild and—”

Most of the guards were focused on Twilight now, but not all of them, and as Wild sank more fully to the floor, he thought he heard their father cry out in pain.

“No!”

More shouting rang past his ears, but Wild was beyond the point of understanding. His vision was growing darker by the second, his senses deserting him, and all he could see was a blob of movement where his father had been moments before.

I’m sorry, Dad.

With the last of his strength, Wild made sure Hyrule’s head was protected, and then he fell back into darkness.

[penny00dreadful]

Rookie Mistake

AO3

17th August 2023

Someone was following him home. 

They were keeping their distance at least. But they'd been keeping their distance through the last three turns.

They could, at the very least, try not to make it obvious what they were doing.

Usually someone following him wouldn’t be a problem. Steve was an expert at what he did and losing a person who was tailing him was easy.

Or it used to be anyway.

His back had taken much longer to heal than any of them had expected and he’d been told his chances of walking again were fifty-fifty. Pretty much a coin toss.

But he’d started to get the feeling back in his legs again around the three month mark. While all of it still hadn’t returned and the doctors were unsure if it ever would, he could at least walk again.

He couldn’t move as fast nowadays, though the cane helped. But it didn’t help enough to escape from his followers' sight.

He was slow, he couldn’t run and he couldn’t stand for extended periods of time. 

He could walk for even less. Which was probably why Claire at the gas station had kept shooting him concerned glances. 

Walking to and from there was pretty much the extent of what he could do in a day. 

Barely fifteen minutes there and back, but enough to have him exhausted and trying to keep the pain at bay.

Eddie was gonna lose his fucking mind once he found out. He worried too much. Steve still remembered the first words he heard when he woke up in the hospital.

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear to god sweetheart, I’ll take you out myself.” Spoken through teary eyes and with shaking hands as he reached for him, like if he didn’t touch him immediately Steve would drift back off into a coma.

This was the first time Steve had been home alone for an extended period of time since he'd been recovering. Eddie had looked at him with a stern pointed finger and an order not to do anything stupid.

So of course he had decided he was going to walk to the nearby gas station to pick up some of their favourite snacks. 

They were gonna do a lazy streaming binge session later that evening, complete with a blanket fort like little kids, when Eddie got back from helping at the garage with Gareth.

What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drive anymore. He didn’t have the strength in his legs for the pedals.

And the gas station was just outside the estate they’d chosen to settle in. Eddie had wanted to be closer to his Uncle Wayne and be able to see his friends again and Steve could never refuse him that.

Except now he was limping home, cane in one hand, paper bag of junk food in the other, with pain and exhaustion shooting up his legs, right into his weakened back. 

He could barely even focus on the space around him, he was concentrating so hard on just putting one foot in front of the other and getting home without passing out from the pain, never mind fighting off an assailant.

In his heyday he wouldn’t even have had to think about how he would handle this situation.

Now, however. Now he felt so fucking helpless. 

There was a gun concealed in a secret pocket just inside the front door. If he could just get to it, he might make it out of whatever this was. 

Even though Steve was on medical leave and Eddie was… retired, old habits die hard. They’d never not be trained to be killers and expect something around every corner.

God, he’d been so stupid. This was so stupid. Eddie would never let him hear the end of it. 

Steve would be lucky if he could keep upright once he hit the front door, everything was so painful.

But Steve was well versed in pain. Literally trained in it. Torture, interrogation, field medicine, pushing past injuries to get the job done. Steve had handled it all, always dreading the idea of being put behind a desk. Even now he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. 

No offence to Robin and her job. He’d be dead ten times over without her but it just wasn’t something he could fathom doing. 

There was a mentor position opening up though. 

Dimitri was retiring to spend more time with his family which meant that Steve could possibly be looking after the new recruits in the near future.

Y’know.

If he didn’t fucking die here and now at the hands of some idiot lacking subtlety.

As far as anyone in the neighbourhood knew, Steve had moved to the area with his husband while recovering from a catastrophic fall, which wasn’t exactly incorrect.

The best lies were the ones that had truth in them.

And the neighbours had all been very… neighbourly. It was a little foreign to him. He was used to growing up in upper class neighbourhoods where he would maybe shoot a quick smile and a hello towards the couple across the road but apart from that, he pretended they didn’t exist and vice versa.

But here, though it was a solid middle class suburb, they all actually spoke to each other. 

Bastien would usually chat while he was out walking his golden retriever named Bread. 

Lucy and Anthony, a couple in their eighties, knew everything about everyone and gave them the best neighbourhood gossip. 

Sandra loved hosting a cookout and invited them every single time. 

Even the neighbourhood kids were all very sweet for a bunch of teenagers.

Best of all was their next door neighbour, Chrissy.

She had knocked on their front door with a freshly baked apple pie in one hand and an invite to her big blowout divorce celebration in the other. It was only the day after they’d moved in and Steve had hobbled downstairs to find her and Eddie chatting like they’d known each other forever.

Steve had originally worried they were only being included in these events as the token queers of the neighbourhood. Just so all these middle classers could pat themselves on the back for their diversity but those worries were quickly put to rest.

Their acceptance was quiet. It wasn’t braggadocious. It was sweet.

Chrissy's divorce party had been a wild night full of karaoke, an obscene amount of chinese food and glass upon glass of pink, glittery, fruity cocktails. 

All things that Jason had hated. 

Things Chrissy loved. 

Things she hadn’t been able to enjoy in her own home in years. But now she was free to do whatever her heart desired. 

Chrissy deserved way better than Jason anyway.

She had leaned into Eddie’s side and taken Steve’s hand in hers and slurred that she wanted “what you guys have. You’re so sweet to each other. How long have you been together?”

They had made eye contact over her head with raised eyebrows. 

The start of their relationship was always a bit of a blurred line.

“Seven, eight years maybe?” Eddie had said, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Really?” She’d asked, blinking her big eyes up at the two of them. “That’s such a long time. Jason and I got married after a year. Don’t do that.” She added, pointing back and forth at the two of them. “It’s a bad idea.”

Steve patted the hand that was held in his. “We won’t. Don’t worry.” 

Especially considering they’d already been married two years by then. 

As the night wore on and more and more stories had come out about what Chrissy’s marriage had been like, Eddie had offered, with three cocktail umbrellas in his hair and a Pink Lady in his hand, to hunt Jason down and make him disappear. 

Chrissy had giggled with a roll of her eyes. 

"Oh sure, you big softie.” She said as she lightly swatted his arm. “If he starts calling around unannounced again, then go ahead."

Eddie had smiled, sweet and innocent, but his eyes had been sharp and hard and Jason needed to watch his fucking back.

Steve had been able to convince him to at least give Jason a warning the first time, before he completely wiped the guy from existence. 

But only one warning was all Eddie would concede to with a pout and a mutter of ‘You’re no fun’. 

If Jason couldn’t take a hint and kept coming around after that, it wasn't Steve's problem anymore.

In general their time in the neighbourhood was nice. It was domestic. The area was safe and sleepy and naive to most of the wrongs of the world. 

It was something Steve and Eddie had never had the chance to have, especially considering the start of their relationship had been so… combative.

Which is what made the guy trailing behind him stick out like a penguin in the desert.

He was unfamiliar.

In an ill fitting black suit that looked like something out of a bad spy movie and greasy slicked back hair.

Steve wasn’t scared of him. 

He was clearly inexperienced. 

Or just stupid.

The guy kept his gaze locked on his target, one hand constantly in his pocket and a look of grim determination on his face. 

Obvious.

But he also seemed to be growing in confidence too. Getting slowly closer and closer.

Steve kept his pace slow and relaxed, trying his best to hide the pain and exhaustion he was feeling sinking into his back and down his legs.

And trying to hide the fact that he knew a fucking idiot was tailing him.

If some fucking newbie gang member or whatever was able to take him down because Steve couldn’t help but push himself, he was going to be so pissed off.

All he needed to do was get inside. 

Unlock the door, get inside and he’d be able to grab one of their concealed weapons and take care of whatever this was.

Easy peasy.

Or it would have been easy peasy if not for the second guy.

The second guy who’d descended on him just as he pushed his front door open, looping an arm around his neck. 

He dropped his bag and his cane, scrabbling against the hold and just barely brushing the hidden gun compartment with his fingers before he felt it.

The sharp sting of a needle in his neck and the cold of whatever it was spreading through his veins. 

The last thought that ran through his head before everything went black was that Eddie was going to be so dramatic about this.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up but he could take a guess.

It was an empty warehouse he was being kept in, if the bare concrete walls, metal roof and high ceilings were anything to go by. 

The windows were right at the top, only letting the barest sliver of orange daylight through. 

The sun was low enough Steve guessed he’d only been out for an hour. 

The whole place smelled of damp and was shrouded in shadow, the only light being that bit of orange sun and one bare light bulb hanging over his head.

Brimborn Steelworks, he thought. 

He could smell the sea air, hear gulls outside, and the warehouse had been abandoned for as long as they’d been in the area so it was a pretty safe bet.

Just outside the circle of light he was washed in, he could hear muttering and bodies shuffling around. 

About four by his estimation, along with the sound of metal parts shifting against each other. 

Guns. 

Fantastic. 

Just what he fucking needed.

His hands were knotted behind his back, not even tied to the chair he was sitting on. Who used rope to tie people up anymore?

Aside from certain… intimate circumstances, Steve hadn’t had to deal with rope in ages.

Not since… well.

It was usually zip ties or duct tape that were used. 

Much quicker, much easier to conceal in pockets or pouches.

And judging by how he was tied, fingers pointed downwards, inner wrist to inner wrist and just a bit too tightly, these guys had absolutely no experience with ropes. 

Kinky or not.

They hadn’t even bothered to blindfold him.

Or gag him.

Eddie would have never been so sloppy. He could’ve done better than this to Steve with his eyes closed and on a Tuesday afternoon.

If he was at full strength, he’d have been able to manoeuvre the weak bindings of his ropes until he was able to tug them free and kick the shit out of the closest guy until he got his hands on his gun.

Then he’d be out of here and on his way home before Eddie had the time to properly spiral.

But he wasn’t at full strength, he could barely even pull against the binds around his wrists, tugged at an uncomfortable angle behind his back. 

Not a gentle angle and not at the proper straining points he was used to. 

The rope was rough and harsh against his skin instead of the delicious soft bite of the silken binds.

But it was fine. 

He wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s awake.” A voice in front of him said. 

The accent was mostly American but with the slightest tinge of Russian underneath. 

Great.

Two men in ill fitting black suits with their guns held loosely at their sides stepped into the light. The other two stayed behind him, probably as some kind of security or intimidation measure. 

Well, it was nice to see them try. 

Cute almost.

“Hello.” Steve sighed. “Can you guys tell me what this is all about so we can get it over with, please?”

“Oh,” the one in front of him sneered, “he thinks he’s funny.”

“I think I’m very funny, yes.” Steve nodded, relaxing into the chair as much as he could.

The guy scowled. Clearly he hadn’t learned that sometimes having fun on the job was necessary. Helped alleviate stress. “You’re gonna answer our questions.”

“Sure thing, Drago.” Steve nodded. The guy really did look like Drago. Big meaty head and short crop of blonde hair. “Hit me.”

Drago smirked. “If you insist.”

With an almighty crack he brought the back of his hand down across Steve’s face, snapping his head to the side.

He could feel the blood welling up in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his cheek and the heat from the strike blooming over his skin that would no doubt turn purple within the next day.

God, never start an interrogation with violence. 

Fucking casuals.

Steve sucked at the blood pooling in his mouth and spat it at Drago’s feet.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Drago scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops.” Steve grinned with blood stained teeth and a nonchalant shrug. “Scoops Ahoy. That little ice cream shop at the mall?”

“Cute.” He sneered.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you need more persuasion.” A voice came from behind him and a sharp blade was pressed against his neck. “How would you feel if I were to cut your pretty throat?”

Steve ran his tongue over his bloody teeth. 

“Do it.”

There was a stutter of movement as the four of them glanced at each other.

“You think we won’t?”

“No, go on, do it.” Steve pressed his neck against the blade which was immediately pulled away. “You think you can get more answers out of my dead body?”

The guy with the blade swung himself around to face him, digging the point into his cheek this time with a snarl. 

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to give him a name in his head. 

He’d be Knife Guy. 

Didn’t matter. 

He’d be dead soon.

“Or,” Steve continued, “do you think that I’m going to cower to any more of your threats now that you’ve just shown me you’re not willing to kill me?” He laughed. “Never start with your last resort.”

The tip of the blade was dug in deeper and dragged across his cheek, cutting into his skin but Steve could barely feel it as he distantly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside.

No one else seemed to have noticed.

“We don’t need to kill you, we just need to make you talk.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, grimacing at the hot sticky blood running down his cheek. If he was lucky it wouldn’t scar.

If they were lucky it wouldn’t scar. 

“I suggest you hurry up, you’re running out of time.”

The four of them laughed. “You think your buddies are coming for you? We targeted you because you were alone and impeded. You had no safety net around you.”

“You sure about that?” Steve took in each of their faces, all looking so confident in a job well done. “You’re right, my buddies aren’t coming for me. If they were, you could take your time. But as it is you’ll all be dead in about,” he tilted his head, listening for the first distant gunshot, which sounded only half a second later, “three minutes so…”

“If not your buddies then who?”

“You guys seem a little new at this.” He said gently, like he was speaking to children. “Have you ever heard of The Shadow of Hawkins?”

Their blank faces told him all he needed to know. 

Fair enough. 

It was a fairly obscure name after all.

And a bit ridiculous.

“How about The Demon of Dresden?” He glanced around. “No? The Bloodyhanded? Ringing any bells?”

Steve blinked at them all in bewilderment. 

Did these guys know anything? 

The gunfire outside was getting louder and closer to their building and the guys around him seem to have finally clued in, clutching their guns tighter. 

Like that would do anything for them.

Steve refused to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Really guys? He’s gonna be so offended.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Well, maybe you’ll know him by his most famous title.” The last gunshot cracked through the air leaving a terrible silence in its wake. “Kas. The Betrayer.”

Every one of them flinched at the name, the colour draining from their faces as a door slammed open in another part of the building.

“He's trying to scare us.” Knife Guy swallowed. “Kas is dead.”

“He was." Steve nodded. "But you had to go and resurrect him. But here’s another one for you.” He grinned again, blood coating his teeth and leaned as far forward as his bindings would allow him, despite the strain on his back. “Who do you think I am?”

“Why does it matter?" The third guy spat, but Drago had a horrible realisation dawning on his face.

"You…"

“Who?” The fourth asked, whipping his head back and forth to look at the two of them. “Who is he?”

“He… you…” Drago shook his head, his full accent apparent now. “You can’t be!”

“Who gave us our intel?!” Knife Guy shouted at the others, also cottoning on.

“You…” Drago swallowed. “You’re his-”

“Sweetheart!” Eddie’s voice echoed around the warehouse seeming to come from all directions and none all at once.

Knife Guy was by his side in a flash with a fist in his hair and the blade pressed against his throat again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve said, glancing up. “He’s very protective of my hair.”

His fist only tightened.

“Fine,” Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey fuckos!” Eddie was still shrouded in darkness, completely hidden from view. “Tying him to chairs is my job!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god's sake.”

Drago stepped in front of Steve, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest, pointing his gun towards the various dark corners. “If you want your-”

Four loud gunshots rang out, echoing throughout the room. 

Steve felt the warm splatter of blood across his face.

Four bodies fell to the floor, a clean bullet wound through three of their foreheads.

Knife Guy, the one who had his hand in Steve’s hair was screaming in agony, clutching his blown apart knee.

“An hour, sweetheart.” Eddie’s figure stormed out of the dark, coming to a stop just in front of him. He still had grease from the garage streaked over his cheek and embedded into the creases on his hands to go along with the copious amount of other people’s blood spattered all over his body. “I leave you alone for one hour and I have to answer a call from a worried Chrissy checking to see if everything's okay because our front door is wide fucking open. How did you go and get yourself kidnapped by Ruskies?” 

"Oh, I'm sorry, please continue to tell me how getting fucking ambushed outside our home is my fault."

"It didn’t start outside our home, did it?" 

Knife Guy wailed again and Eddie looked down on him with a cold glare. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “I must have missed.”

With a simple squeeze of the trigger he put a hole through Knife Guys head and the screaming stopped. 

Steve expected Eddie to walk behind him to cut his binds but instead he just swung his leg out and sat himself down on Steve's lap.

"It started at that fucking gas station because you can't sit down for five minutes straight." Eddie pulled a small pocket sized first aid kit out and tilted Steve's head to the side. "Even if fucking Hippocrates or god damned Florence Nightingale rose from the dead and told you to take it easy, you'd still be ignoring their orders." He scoffed as he roughly pressed a butterfly bandage over Steve's cheek. "And you call me the hyperactive one." He mumbled.

Steve winced, glaring at him as Eddie pressed down particularly hard on one strip.

His mouth was still pulled into a deep frown but he stroked his fingers gently over Steve’s cheek, caressing his face with the gentlest of touches.

"You okay?"

Steve couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yeah baby, I'm good. But they got the angle of my arms all wrong. It's really uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well as an expert in tying you down to chairs, I'd have to agree. How dare they steal my thing. I fell in love with you when you were tied to a chair."

Steve raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief written on his face.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to bring their faces closer but he was impeded by his bindings. Eddie just gave him a feral grin. “Which time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie cooed. “No.”

“Asshole.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Would you mind?" He tugged at the ropes again. "My back is fucking killing me."

"Of course." Eddie muttered into Steve's mouth but never properly closing the distance while simultaneously lifting his weight up. “All you had to do was ask.”

With the bindings now gone, his shoulders and arms felt like fucking lead and the blood rushing back into his hands was causing terrible pins and needles.

Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve's muscles, trying to alleviate as much of the strain as he could.

Steve closed his eyes and groaned, his earlier ill-advised trip was catching up with him again and he was dreading having to walk out of this place. 

He just wanted to be at fucking home, in his fucking bed with his fucking husband.

Or maybe they could still do that naked blanket fort in the living room with a movie marathon and an obscene amount of snacks.

When he opened his eyes again, Eddie was on one knee with his back to him.

“Hop on.”

Steve grumbled but couldn’t find it in himself to argue, sliding himself forward, slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and allowing himself to be carried off.

Eddie was strong and steady under him, barely flinching as he grabbed tight to Steve’s thighs and stood.

Their walk back was quiet and Steve wasn’t looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would have to be filed as a result of this but he hoped since he was still on medical leave he could get out of it.

The sun was starting to set outside, the sky splashed with brilliant shades of reds and oranges and pinks. Now that he was outside he saw he was correct about where he was being held.

Brimborn Steel Works.

Still got it.

When he turned his head back around to face forward he saw that Eddie had driven Steve's beloved bimmer here. 

The driver's side door was flung open and the car was at an odd angle, the direction and darkness of the tire marks behind telling Steve that Eddie had practically drifted into the lot at speed.

There were a few bullet holes in the doors and the passenger window was shattered but it wasn’t the worst that car had ever seen.

Bodies littered the ground around them, all in the same out of date suits Steve’s four goons had been wearing, all with the same guns, all with the same kind of build and all with slowly coagulating pools of blood and brains around them.

Damn. 

Eddie really didn’t hold back this time.

Steve looked back at his car. 

He couldn’t drive her anymore. 

Probably never would be able to again.

They’d talked about trading it in for a model with push-pull controls for his hands instead of floor pedals so he could have that freedom back.

But they hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Eddie had taken his motorcycle to the garage, he would have arrived home with it. Probably seen the front door wide open and a grocery bag on the ground like Chrissy said. 

It would have been quicker to get here on the motorcycle.

But Steve couldn’t ride on it. 

Not as a driver or passenger. 

At least not yet, not until he was further healed. 

So Eddie had come here with the car, either because of hope, stubbornness or pure confidence, knowing he would get Steve back.

Steve smiled to himself, tightening his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck, peppering little kisses on any skin he could reach.

“You okay back there?”

He could hear the grin in his voice as Eddie lowered him down into the passenger seat, turning on his knees to rest his forearms across Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled down at him. “Just… thanks for finding me.”

Eddie straightened up to his full kneeling height, taking Steve's face in his hands. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He leaned up, pressing the softest of soft kisses against Steve’s lips, full of love, adoration, dedication. 

Steve could feel it pouring out of him and into his own body. 

The gentlest intimacy from a man who could cause so much violence. 

Eddie brushed their noses together. “I’ll always come find you.”

“You always say that.”

Eddie hummed. “Because I always will.”

AO3

A prequel fic set in this universe will be dropping next week 👀

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[five-star-stay]

Han's bubble was hilarious today. He accidentally started a movement of stays quitting their jobs because of the weather💀

240614 🐿🫧:

-when I woke up this morning, the sun has already risen and I was melting

-i wonder if it's because it's morning that it felt like I was melting in the bed or if it's because it's hot so i opened the window refreshingly and just breathed in the air but I was shocked. Please just stay at home for today

-because I think it's a good amount of exercise/movement even if you just live today by moving enough to warm up the brain cells, I feel like moving more than that is a luxury

-those who commute to work or school today, please state it firmly that if the weather's this hot then, to let you watch movies and rest at home at least for a day

-say that rather than thinking of it as getting off work/school because it's hot to please think of as a temporary escape in order to find the beauty/romance in this weather for a day

-ah there're maknaes* too then please show them how you're the maknae on top like jeonginnie (*people who are the youngest in the workplace so they can't demand days off)

-who made maknaes not being able to say a thing

-what to do if you get fired? then I'll try to make a place for you in JYP as an honorary STAY employee. Don't worry.

-Payment terms are not in my control so I'll try negotiating it.

-no wait but that doesn't mean that you should just voluntarily leave the company/workplace that you're in

-pls stop for a bit

-what's with this (fast) execution

-no but when did I even lead/encourage you to resign your job, no wait y/n let's think of it again for a bit

-no but those who are students, you can't just come out, you have to listen to the lessons/lectures

-oh

-seems like the ball I shot scattered across everywhere like starlight and spread around

-well since I can't just make it as something that didn't happen

-I'll be escaping

-Fighting for today, i love you and fighting

Messages translated by skzwithstay8

Stays reaction on twt:

[rilamelafin]

We'll Figure It Out

Fandom: Dragon Age The Veilguard Rating: T Pairing: Female Mourn Watch Mage Elf Rook/Lucanis Dellamorte Tags: 5+1 Things, Falling in Love [Read on AO3]

~~~

His escape from the Ossuary had been too fast for formal introductions. Venatori, demonic experiments, Calivan. Lucanis had barely given his rescuer — an elvhen woman who went by Rook — any information about Spite, only what was strictly necessary. Then, it had been the news of Caterina's death, and his new contract to kill the elvhen gods. He was still reeling from it all when they had returned to Rook's base in the Fade, a place she called the Lighthouse.

There had been concerns from the other two mages — Neve and Bellara — of course. Neither had answers to his circumstance that didn't involve killing him. Not out of the question, he figured, but not the ideal solution. He had a job to do, and he couldn't complete it if he was dead.

Spite threw a tantrum like a child, of course, when denied what he wanted. Lucanis asked for a moment to himself after that, to wait out Spite until he became bored. It was nearly an hour before Rook returned to check on him. He opened the floor for her questions, preferring to get this part over with sooner than later. Bad enough he was an abomination, he didn't need lingering doubts about his abilities hanging in the air. Rook asked him how he had been captured and taken to the Ossuary and, more surprisingly, if he was alright with the contract to help her. As if he could refuse the contract, even if he had wanted to. Besides, he owed her a debt for getting him out of that prison.

"You haven't asked about Spite," he noted when she gave him a warm welcome, as though she were preparing to wrap up their conversation. He was grateful she didn't give him a pitying look.

"We'll figure it out," she answered. They were not words that inspired confidence, though she spoke them easily. "I'm no stranger to spirits, but if there's anything in particular you think I should know…"

"Leave Spite to me. If he's trapped in this world, he has good reason to fight for it."

She surprised him again by calling him admirable for what he endured in the Ossuary, but he deflected. Called himself stubborn instead, and it made her laugh. At least he hadn't forgotten how to do that in the past year.

---

Weisshaupt was an unmitigated disaster. The eluvian had been moved. Darkspawn and blight around every turn. His lungs burned, smoke and rot entering his body with every breath. He'd learned quickly since escaping the Ossuary with Rook that she was a magnet for 'a change in plans'. It seemed every time she made one, something happened to turn it on its side.

The undead rebellion she'd told him about that got her removed from the Grand Necropolis in the first place.

The attempt to disrupt Solas' ritual, which resulted in their current mess with now two elvhen gods attempting to destroy all of Thedas.

The recruitment of the Grey Warden, Davrin, only to be followed by joint attacks against Minrathous and Treviso. She'd saved his city, but Neve's home had suffered.

And now here in Weisshaupt, where Ghilan'nain loomed over them in the sky.

"She's a cloud!" he shouted over the chaos as they sprinted through the massive keep. "How do I kill a cloud with a dagger?!"

"We'll figure it out!" she yelled back.

To her credit, she didn't sound nearly as panicked as she should have.

---

They had all but dragged him back to the Lighthouse; he'd barely been able to stand on his own. Whatever Illario had done to him had sapped his energy, and left Spite oddly silent. How his cousin had been able to use blood magic, Lucanis did not know, but he needed to find out. He could not be that vulnerable again. He — He lost control of Spite and nearly killed the last remaining member of his family. Lucanis' stomach twisted at the memory. The demon's anger as Lucanis was forced to be a spectator in his own body. The feel of his dagger in hand, so familiar but all wrong. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to hold Spite back — to beg Moira to get Illario out of there. Instead, she and Emmrich had needed to carry Lucanis himself out of Treviso and through the Crossroads. It had been unusually quiet — and still was — with Spite silenced as he was. Lucanis wasn't sure when the demon would reawaken, but he knew he wasn't gone. He could still feel Spite, as though curled into an angry little ball in the back of his mind. There was a gentle knock at the pantry door before Moira stepped inside. "How are you feeling?" she asked. It felt like a loaded question. With Spite silenced, Lucanis felt physically weakened — like half of his strength belonged to the demon now. How much of him was truly still left? "I'm fine." From the frown on her pretty lips, that was the wrong answer. "You don't have to do that, you know." "Do what?" "Pretend nothing is wrong. I was worried about you, Lucanis. I am worried." "You have more important things to concern yourself with. Once Spite awakens, I'll —" As though summoned by the utterance of his name, the demon roared to life. Betrayer! Kill. Him! Moira flinched, no doubt struck from the force of Spite's anger and sudden appearance, though she could not hear Spite in the same way that Emmrich could. Lucanis managed to keep control of his body this time. Moira was gracious enough not to comment on the outburst. "You're important to me," she said instead, straightforward in the way she always was. "So you're important enough to worry for." No worry. Kill! Lucanis tried to focus on what Moira said next, but between Spite's enraged shouting and his own efforts to keep the demon at bay, he missed nearly every word. It was why he was surprised when her hand found his and gave it a firm squeeze. "Spite, I understand you are angry, but you need to let Lucanis and I talk." He was always a little in awe of how she spoke so easily to Spite, unafraid yet sympathetic. It was the same as Emmrich, no doubt a result of their respective time in the Mourn Watch. Always talk. Even more surprising was the way Spite always seemed willing to listen to her, though even now he grumbled about it. Still, it was blessedly quiet in Lucanis' mind again. He could kiss her — but no, that had nearly gotten him in trouble once before. "Thank you." "Share your burden with me?" "What would you have me say? I lost control and nearly killed my cousin. If you and Emmrich hadn't been there—" He cut himself off, unwilling to think of just what, exactly, Spite would have done "But we were," she answered, voice soft and altogether too kind for the mistakes Lucanis had made. "And you did hold Spite back." "And what am I to do about Illario?" It was the question he truly wanted an answer to, but was afraid of what that answer might be. If Illario was working with the Venatori — with Zara Renata — could Lucanis afford to let him live? Could he live with himself if he truly had to kill the last of his family? Moira squeezed his hand again. "We'll figure it out." And she sounded so certain, he didn't have room to argue.

---

He cherished these quiet moments between them, seated on the couch in the library, her legs across his lap as she read a book borrowed from Emmrich's personal shelves. His own book — the one Harding had chosen for book club, Mistress of the Scarlet Moon — wasn't holding his attention well, but that mattered little. He was enjoying the time with Moira, late into what passed for night in the Lighthouse, when everyone else was sleeping. One of his hands rested on the calf of her leg, thumb idly tracing over the fabric of her trousers. Their relationship was still fragile — new and not entirely defined. She was patient, content to let him set the pace of… whatever this was. The Ossuary was not yet far enough behind him. Spite, though he and the demon had come to an agreement, was still an unpredictable force in the back of his mind. He hadn't realized he had been staring at the same line in his book for far too long until Moira's hand settled on his, a shock that snapped his eyes to her. "You're thinking very loudly," she teased as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Lucanis closed his book, a finger kept between the pages to mark his place. He hadn't even noticed her setting her book on the table, he'd been so distracted with his thoughts. "Just realizing that I don't know what I did to deserve you," he answered, pleased to see a pretty blush across her cheeks even as she beamed at him. His own emotions were still so tangled with regard to her. He wanted her — he would have to be blind not to — but he'd spent the better part of a year shutting down every part of himself that had ever dared to hope. Hope for freedom. Hope to feel a soft touch from another person again. Hope for a future. There was so little of himself that he could offer her. "You're thoughtful." He shouldn't have been surprised that she was giving him an answer, but he was anyway. "The first thing you did after you settled in here was make a grocery list of foods to make our team happy. You made a Nevarran hazelnut torte because it pairs well with my favorite coffee." "It was nothing." "Or not enough, I remember." Her hand squeezed his again, the lines around her eyes soft as she looked up at him. "What brought these thoughts on?" Lucanis looked away from her now, struggled to find the words. "I am… not the man I was before the Ossuary." An oversimplification, but a place to start. "Yet you still wanted me. An abomination." "Lucanis…" "Spite and I, we have an agreement now, thanks to you. But he is still unpredictable. Still a demon." He glanced back in time to see her bite the inside of her cheek, no doubt to stop herself from correcting him again. Spirit, she always said. "How can you see beyond that? How are we going to…" Lucanis sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he slammed the spine of his book into the couch. There was a moment of silence between them, her hand still firmly grasping his. Moira waited until he finally opened his eyes and looked at her again before she answered. "We'll figure it out." With her, he was starting to believe it.

---

He hadn't meant to start dozing — naked, head on her lap, her fingers brushing gently through his hair — and denied falling asleep when she called him on it with affection and laughter in her voice. He didn't want to waste any time now that she had returned to him. Those weeks Moira had been missing, locked in Solas' Fade prison, had been agony for Lucanis. He'd thought he would never see her again, and that idea had gutted him — to lose her without ever telling her how he felt about her. He hadn't allowed himself to even acknowledge those feelings, too afraid of the marks the Ossuary had left on him. Of course, she had just spent the better part of the night tracing every scar on his body with her lips and tongue. "You still have to sleep sometimes," she teased. Her fingers continued to brush through his hair. "With you here, like this?" He gave her body a slow, deliberate once-over, drinking in the sight of her pale skin, full breasts, toned stomach. A light blush spread across her cheeks in response to his gaze. "I'd rather stay awake." "Stay awake all night? However shall we pass the time?" Moira's question was asked lightly, with no real expectation. That she never placed any on his shoulders, after an entire life of obeying Caterina's commands, was just another thing he loved about her. "Would you talk to me? Your voice is a comfort." A month ago, he would never have asked. Would never have shown such vulnerability. Losing Moira and finding her again had shifted his priorities. "I'll tell you the tale of the charming rogue who stole the heart of a hapless hero," she offered. How she thought so little of herself, he couldn't understand. She had saved him so many times from the moment they had met. Lucanis didn't want to imagine what he would do if he lost her again. "Moira… Tomorrow…" She pressed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing his fears. "Whatever happens, we'll take it on together," she answered. "All I have to do is kill a god to keep you out of trouble. Easy." Her smile was soft, affectionate. "We'll figure it out." Looking in her eyes, feeling her skin against his, he believed her. Lucanis reached out and cupped the back of her head, drawing her in to kiss her. Whatever tomorrow brought, he didn't want to waste another moment when he could taste her on his lips instead.

---

She stood before Lucanis now, possibly their last moment to speak to one another before they faced Elgar'nan. It wouldn't be their last moment ever — he would make certain of that. Spite was restless, eager to enter the next fight and he done with all of this, but Moira was a balm to both of their spirits. Lucanis had shown her a dozen different ways the night before how he felt about her, how important she was to him. Yet here she stood, anxiety curling over her shoulders enough for him to notice. "If I'd never gone to the Crows," she said. "If I'd never found you… I'm just so grateful I did." There was fear in her voice. Was she truly so uncertain of his affection for her, even now? He was a bit ashamed to realize he'd never before expressed it in words. "As am I," he answered. "More than I've ever told you. Rook… Moira… saying I owe you my life is not enough. You know my mind." She had walked through it herself — had faced each of his insecurities since he'd left the Ossuary physically, if not mentally. "I've assumed you know my heart because… it beats for you. It's been beating—" His throat felt tight and there were tears gathering in her eyes. Lucanis took a breath. "When I wanted you. When I was afraid to want you… Tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms, and I will kill any god you ask." There was nothing she could ask of him that he would refuse. "Lucanis," she whispered. "I—" Spite reminded him, ungraciously, that he still hadn't said it. "I love you, Moira. And I won't let you down." A smile pulled at his lips, a confidence he had little right to carry settling in his chest. "Whatever is next, we'll figure it out." Moira broke into a watery laugh, the tears finally falling over her cheeks as she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him fiercely, with no regard for who might be watching. "Yes, we will."

[wrtzia]

Your murder - part 10

Summary ; When the police stop all research into your disappearance, closing the case and telling the world that you are dead, the Pogues make it their mission to avenge you.

Warning ; mention of stabbing and injuries.

main masterlist - part 9

The light of the phone illuminated your face, then nothing. It went from texting your boyfriend to a full black screen. 

Your hopes had been back for just a few seconds, texting John B but barely having time to give him any information. He knew nothing. He couldn’t help you that way, and suddenly you were back at where you were two minutes ago ; at a loss of hope. 

Your distress was short-lived as footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by a door opening. Just before it closed, you used the bit of force you had to bury yourself in the corner of the room, dark and scary. You weren’t sure it was the best thing to do but you hid the now-dead phone in your bra. You were sure she wouldn’t see it there. 

Knees found your chest, arms going around them as she came into view, the person who had kept you there for so long now, away from everyone you loved. In her hand, a tray with a plate of food, well if you could call it that. It was just bread and an apple, but at least it was something. When it was put on the floor, you were fast to grab the bottle of water, drinking almost half of it already.

“We’re moving.” The words caught you off guard, you froze mid-sip, lowering the bottle with trembling hands. Moving? Where? When? How? Maybe that was your chance of escaping, finally after all that time looking for a way out.

 “We’ll be away by tomorrow night, leaving the Outer Banks for good.” And without one more word or look at you, she left. You looked at the tray, thinking. Tomorrow night. You had no way to know the time, but considering you’ve just been fed, you could guess it was around noon, meaning you had around 31 hours. That probably was enough to come up with a plan, right ?

A few weeks ago, you had kept a fork from a tray without her noticing. Ever since then, it has been hidden under your disgusting excuse for a bed. You could grab it, let her lead you out and once it felt the best time, stabbing her ? Not in a way to badly hurt her, obviously. Just a way to hurt her bad enough to scream and let go of you for just a second. That’s all you needed. 

Going around, walking with a missing girl was clearly stupid. She wasn’t stupid. There would probably be a truck there, those scary white trucks that scream kidnapping, and probably a driver too. You knew she wasn’t alone up there, even though you never saw anyone other than her. If you were stabbing her at the right moment, that shouldn’t be a problem. You would just have to wait a moment their focus was elsewhere and act. 

The hardest point was probably how weak you were. Some bread and fruit wasn’t enough for a teenage girl to have energy. For anybody to have energy, at least. Since day one, you had enough food to survive but clearly not for more. You weren’t sure you were even able to stand, but after all there is a survival instinct, right ? Right ?

So many things could go wrong ; what if you didn’t have enough strength to run away or stab her ? What if she was seeing the knife ? What if the people there had guns ? Nothing scared you more than guns. Well, except that time your sister put a spider on your pillow. That was worse.

You thought back about your plan, if you could call it that. It was as terrible as JJ's usual plans, and that made you scoff. After all the time you made fun of him for his plans, you couldn’t do that bad. Clearly not right now. So you thought about it, imagined it. You would step out of here, her hand holding your arm firmly. The fork would be hidden in your sleeve, hoping she wouldn’t find it and then BAM, in her arm. Or maybe in the leg, if your own arm felt too weak to raise. After that, you just had to run and hope. You were so used to leaving your house, going on hunts with the Pogues, you knew everything about the Outer Banks.

The Pogues, how you missed them. You would give anything to be with them, sharing a beer around a campfire. Maybe you would start a truth or dare, asking spicy questions about the most private subjects. And they would answer, asking you even more private questions to which you would laugh. Because that's how you were, sharing everything; The Pogues were your family and, even when your hope was running on empty, you knew they were there, fighting for you. Because that’s what families do.

For the moment, you just had to lie down, thinking again and again about the day coming. You could do it, you will get out of here.

Notes ; I LOVED writing this one. I'm really excited for the two newt chapter...

Taglist ; @chalahyung01, @mirellef2001, @voidangxls, @angvl3tears, @kieeslove

part 11