#I didn’t think Peter had the balls to say it y’all

[nerdetiquette]

Peter: I never want to see you again

Juno:

[brucebocchi]

wrote something for facebook about my history with anime and journey towards born-again weebdom:

Something weird happened to me over the past year. Like a frog in a pot of increasingly hot water, I found myself way the hell into anime again, and at a level I don’t think I ever had been before.

Anime was always kind of in my periphery, especially with stuff like Pokémon, Dragon Ball Z, and Sailor Moon blowing up in this side of the world. I was a fan of all three as a kid, plus I’d watch the odd show on Toonami and Adult Swim here and there, but I didn’t consider myself much of an anime fan beyond that. Especially not in high school, and if you went to school with “Naruto kids” like I did, you can probably understand why. I didn’t really seek it out.

About 10 years ago I decided to finally see what this Neon Genesis Evangelion business was all about and it rearranged my brain. I had no clue something like that existed before I’d even heard of Pokemon. I had to see what else was out there that I missed. I caught up on shows like Gurren Lagann, Nichijou, and Madoka Magica, and even followed Kill la Kill and the first season of One Punch Man as they were airing. From there, though, I kind of petered out again. I’d watch the occasional Netflix drop here and there, catch up on Jojo, and rewatch the Evangelion movies like they were recurring holidays, but that was kinda it.

Around this time last year, though, I randomly remembered a show that I loved as a preteen, one that I was just as excited to watch alongside DBZ on weekdays after school: Tenchi Muyo. It didn’t really have the lasting impact the other Toonami shows did, but I loved it when it was on (and let’s be real, that many beautiful anime women jam-packed into the same show was something of an awakening for my pubescent self). I decided to seek it out and see if it held up, and it mostly did! I ended up watching most of the franchise, or at least the parts of it that actually involve the main cast.

From there, I found a video essay on YouTube about one of the Tenchi sub-series that absolutely hooked me, and I’d be happy to share it. Anime became something of a YouTube rabbit hole for me, and I was inundated with recommendations for shows I’d either heard about and missed or that left a mark I wasn’t even aware of. Then I decided to finally play Persona 5. Then I decided to see what this Chainsaw Man business was all about. And what else was airing that season. That snowball kept rolling.

By my count, I’ve watched some 38 discrete anime series in the past year and change (plus another three that I started and am in no hurry to finish), and I’ll gladly list them if asked. Granted, anime seasons are short and a handful of them are spinoffs, so the number’s not as crazy as it might look on its face. It’s still a lot, though, and I would actually recommend most of them! I definitely stuck to some niches; I’d say at least half were comedies and there was plenty of action-oriented stuff in there as well. But it’s been really incredible just seeing how far it can reach as a medium to depict just about anything the human brain can conjure up.

Anime fuckin’ rules, y’all.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

hi, this is 90sfatal. personally idc what any of you have to say about me but do you not realize that you’re upset over a minor who has clearly not been educated on the evan/emma situation.. instead of attacking him maybe it would be helpful to provide the evidence that evan is a victim to abuse & not the abuser. & i understand being upset i didn’t defend evan the way you all wanted but i have devoted years of my life to supporting evan & his work even when the world seemingly hated him. i have defended that man countless times & will continue to do so when it comes down to it. excuse me for bantering with a mutual & then messaging him privately to educate him. y’all wouldn’t know about that tho bc you’re not in my dms

letsxriot asked: if you guys don’t like twitter so much then why do you watch our every move.. saying twitter is insane is valid bc we are but at least we have the balls to speak what’s on our minds freely without hiding. you’re the ones going out of your way to send our tweets to a gossip blog anonymously. that’s so strange to me. just don’t look at what we have to say if it bothers you so much. all i do is talk about my fav on there & interact with my friends.

-

i understand that perhaps this person is your friend and you are familiar with him on a deeper level, and that because of this you would feel differently about their statement/how it should be received. with that said, being 17 is not in any way a shield nor an excuse to say outright false, defamatory, and outlandishly offensive things about someone you dislike due to stan war/stan culture.

this goes for you, him, me, and everyone else: what we post on the internet, between friends or not, is public forum and subject to strangers opinions and critique. i know for a fact i have said things on here that ruffled peoples' feathers; i have had entire accounts on here and twitter created for the sole purpose to flame me, dox me, cancel me etc... you're right that we are not in your dms and we don't know if you had a meaningful conversation about why what he said was unacceptable and harmful. i'm glad you did and i certainly hope that he took what you said to heart and will stop confidently spouting lies.

if you have indeed been a fan for years and witnessed the hate that evan received and defended him, then i feel that you'll be able to understand why it's reasonable that some folks would be bothered. he didn't say ''evan peters is an ugly hoe'', he literally accused him of abuse, racism and nazism. it is normal that people would have a reaction to that.

also, i mean, to be fair.. i, and i presume others, are speaking to twitter/fandom twitter as a whole, not directly to your account to disparage you personally. the fandom on twitter currently, is dominated by people who never made a single tweet about him before 2022, many of you guys are teens or just outside of that, and tumblr skews older so it's not unusual that there is a disconnect. that's why i'm here, on tumblr, and not on twitter yelling at anyone to get off my lawn. this entire exchange is a microcosm of that app and why i tend to not engage; it is generally a negative vibe for me, but that doesn't mean you or anyone else should not enjoy it with your friends.

no one is forcing your hand to read a gossip blog nor keep tabs on what my readers send me on here. you used to follow me on here/twitter, stopped, and now are following me on here again because you saw someone send in an ask about twitter happenings a few days back, and wanted to send me a message about it. so in all fairness, you clearly do care what others think and it feels like you and your critics are both utilizing this blog as a vessel to engage in some sort of back and forth about disagreements. to be clear, i've deleted tons of stuff from my inbox about twitter beef. respectfully, i'd prefer that drama stays on the appropriate app and not involve me. criticizing a post, tweet, video, etc. is fair game but this should not be personal. this is the internet and you're certainly entitled to your own feelings and opinions - so are the people who read this blog, who are no more "anonymous" than you or i. like i said before, i fully believe that muting/blocking and not engaging with people who bother you is the best course of action. this fandom is never going to all hold hands and sing kumbaya but it doesn't have to be a negative and hateful experience.

i'm gonna go have my edibles and a bubble bath.

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

Gender is Confusingly Simple

All words are made up. This isn’t to say that they have no worth. But it does mean that they can change and evolve and new words can come in to explain old concepts. This includes the dictionary of words regarding gender identity. I know I’m going to put a damper on all y’all planning a gender reveal party, but also, gender reveal parties are kind of stupid. They just allow the parents to put a slew of expectations and personality and traits onto their unborn ball of squish. I think it reveals so much about us when it comes to how much shit we give about two basic colors and the arbitrary meanings we’ve assigned to them. 

I recently watched Mulan, the good one, not the new piece of shit, with my friends and I already know how much I love that movie, but oh my gods I fucking love this movie. I related so hard to that kid and I never even knew why because I didn’t have the vocabulary for it. Mulan showcased so much of how I felt internally and it makes all the more sense now. She was a girl, but not a hyper feminine girl, but also not really a masculine girl. She was just an average everyday girl. And then she pretended to be a boy, and she was a completely average boy too. She fought as a boy and as a girl and both those times, she had her own unique strategy. She was completely herself, personality wise throughout all the appearances she had. Whether she be presenting as a potential bride or a soldier. 

The concept of interchangeable gender had always been a desire of mine. When I played made up games with my sister as children, my characters would constantly flip flop between genders. I would play a boy as much as I would play a girl because I liked both. In real life, I would sometimes dress masculine and sometimes I would be feminine because I liked both. I wanted to be Peter Pan from the 2007 Peter Pan. I wanted to be Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, and Tia Dalma/Calypso from Pirates of the Caribbean. It oftentimes went beyond expressing myself through clothing because I wanted to be the gender that my clothes portrayed. It was a two in one sort of thing. When I played Fritz in The Nutcracker, I felt so comfortable as a little lad. Yet, I also felt beautiful and accomplished when I was dolled up in the dresses for the snow scene and Spanish dance. With my look for prom, I felt like an absolute goddess and I loved it. I’ve often felt a certain power with being able to pass myself off as a guy and a gal. I have a whole list on my phone of all the times people thought I was a dude and it’s great. 

All this is to say that when I announced myself as genderfluid, ultimately it really isn’t shocking. I’ve always been like this and if I had that label from the beginning, I would have used it. Nothing about me is different just because I no longer identify as a girl. So, what I’m trying to explain here in a very long winded way is that different gender terms shouldn’t cause any uproar. People are people. That’s it. We’re so diverse and unique and strange that we get separated and recognized by our personalities, habits, and quirks. When I think of my friends, I don’t think of girl 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and boy 1. I think of them as the amalgamation of their passions, interests, styles, mannerisms. I think of the things that make them similar to me or each other and what makes us different. Gender is just another thing that is thrown into the mix of their individuality-ness. It’s a basic piece of info that really only matters because it couples with the pronouns a person uses. 

If we were all taught the gender spectrum and the different identities that exist within, from a young age, the same way we were taught boy and girl, all those other terms would be just as familiar. They wouldn’t have such an insane impact. Especially if we would just fuck off with the gender reveal parties and all the stereotypes that haunt the two outcomes. Gender only means as much as it does to us because of what we associate with it. If we stopped looking at boys and girls through a tiny ass window, then all the other identities that are present wouldn’t cause so many people to have an aneurysm. I know learning is hard, believe me, I went through school with undiagnosed ADHD. However, you are never too old to intake information. That whole “can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is bullshit because firstly, we aren’t dogs, and secondly, our brains don’t just close off after a certain age. It just takes repetition. You need to gradually get used to the change, process it. A name change will take some time to remember. A label for gender identity and a switch up of pronouns will feel weird for a little bit. The more we open our noggins to it though, the shorter this societal transition period will be. 

Look, how we express ourselves and how we identify don’t always go hand in hand. Knowing that will really help first and foremost. Style has evolved a thousand times over the centuries. Men used to wear dresses and heels. Children used to all be clothed in the same styles regardless of gender because small children are all bean shaped. We have masculine women, feminine men, androgynous men and women, and we have people who don’t identify as either of those who wear any of that. Assumption isn’t the problem. Not respecting the information you’ve been given is the problem. We assume things all the time based on how people look. We guess that they’re rich, poor, businessperson, artist, unemployed, have a cat, have a girlfriend, don’t shower. We guess until somebody presents a confirmation. If we chuck out as many stereotypes from our brains as possible, life will be significantly less complicated. Because we’ll just have words. Instead of hearing boy and having a flood of images of all the things you associate with that consume you, boy will just mean boy. “Boy” will just mean what that particular individual considers themself. It will just be a word. “They/them” is just another pronoun. “Nonbinary” is just another gender. These words, like all others, mean slightly different things to each of us. “Tree” won’t invoke identical images for all of us, but I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong about what a tree is because you thought of pine and I thought of oak. Someone who uses “he/they” pronouns may consider themselves genderqueer, whilst another who uses the same pronouns identifies as nonbinary. Both of those genders fall under the same umbrella, the same way both those trees fall under the same general plant category. 

We as a society are able to recognize different kinds of trees are still all trees, despite there being hundreds of different, what are they, species? So why can we not do the same with genders and pronouns? There are a variety of genders, some will be less heard of, others far more common, but we can get familiar with the basic ones as a start and go from there. The internet too is a beautiful place, sometimes, where you can look up lists of all the “trees” that are known so you can expand your knowledge. I don’t know all the genders. The only time I did any research was when I was trying to figure out what I personally identified with. I’m still getting used to the fact that the definitions I associate with some of the genders aren’t the same as other people’s. But again, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong because they see pine and I see oak. Yes, sometimes people get the definition completely wrong. A cactus isn’t a tree. A woman who was assigned female at birth isn’t trans. We can learn that though, we can learn when the definitions don’t match up with gender the same way we learned what counts as a tree and what doesn't. 

As the title says, this is a confusingly simple topic. Simple because we just have more words to describe more things more specifically. Complicated because we have difficulty reworking a system that has been in place for a long ass time where the rules are pretty concrete and rigid. But we are wholly capable of rebuilding things and we can rebuild our societal structure one rainbow brick at a time.

[carladuquette]

I’ve noticed tonight how much I’ve dropped the ball because of my ed. Things that kind of just… fell away because I’m so exhausted, so focused on myself, on thinking about food or trying NOT to think about food, on trying to remember what my counselor and I talked about or trying desperately NOT to think about what she said to me, on how noticeable my hair loss is, on how badly I just want to lie in bed and when the next time is I can do that, on how to make it through the day none-tired because once I am in bed at night I can’t sleep. On trying to find a therapist I can see regularly and all the stupid hoops you have to jump through for that.

One area where I’ve dropped the ball is work. I do what I have to to get through my shifts, but I used to love my job. I see other people really coming up with ideas, getting involved, landing cool projects and producing great stories while I… do the bare minimum. Work slower than I used to. I finally had a therapist appointment and had to cancel it last minute because I had just… forgotten about an important presentation I had to do at the exact same time (that had of course been scheduled for weeks and weeks, I just didn’t remember until the day before).

My apartment is a mess. That is the most acceptable of the neglected areas.

The worst: My personal life and friends. I feel like I’m letting my friends down. I don’t check in with them. I’m missing big personal news. I’m that annoying friend where YOU are always the one getting in touch first and then I let it peter out. I haven’t met my friend’s baby because I haven’t been by to visit even though I said I would back in summer. It’s come to the point where she sent me a message saying “I don’t want to lose touch because I think you’re a great person and I like being your friend.” I don’t want to lose touch either! But the fact she felt she had to write that… The most unforgivable: I haven’t been there for my best friend across the ocean who’s lost a baby this spring. I cannot be there physically, but for the past months I haven’t been there for her, listening, supporting her either. She’s going through hell and I basically disappeared from her life and it’s killing me.

And on a lighter note: Christmas. I love it. I go all in every year. And now… yesterday I realized in a panic I haven’t thought about gifts. I haven’t sent a single holiday card. I’m not inviting my friends over for Christmas muffins and tea, I’m not organizing the dinner at a nice restaurant I normally do every year. I used to love that stuff! I still do. But somehow it’s all… gone.

I didn’t use to get it when I heard “the ed takes over your life.” I thought that sounded so much more dramatic than what I’m going through, mine isn’t that bad, etc. But I get it now.

This is what y’all are going through? I’m sending you so much love 💕

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

Make Me

Sam Wilson x Reader

*a/n: Reposting this fic, hope y’all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated.

Warnings: Smut, spanking, oral (m receiving) 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Make me.

Those two words were a challenge you had recently taken to giving your friend Sam. You loved the look he would get when you said it.

It started when you were hanging around his house teasing him out of boredom.

“Y/N, you’re being really annoying right now,” he had told you as you threw paper balls at him while he tried to work.

“Well, Samuel, I’m bored and it’s your problem now,” you told him, tossing more paper at him.

“Seriously, Y/N, stop,” he said, catching the paper.

Getting in his face, you said with a laugh, “Make me.”

You had seen a dark look cross his eyes that sent a shiver through you, but he didn’t do anything so you just laughed again, shrugging it off. But from that moment on, you started saying it more and more; just to see that look.

The time that really stuck in your mind though was when you were out with him and Bucky and Steve. Of course you were joking with him, you always did. Bucky was telling you about some mission or other where Sam had gotten kicked off a moving truck. You were of course horrified, but you put on a brave face because he was standing right there next to you, alive, well, and whole, rolling his eyes at Bucky who was laughing as he told the story.

“You should have seen his face,” Bucky laughed, trying to make the face he’d seen Sam do.

You laughed and turned to Sam, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright. That bird costume really does come in handy, huh?”

“Bird costume!?” Sam exclaimed, while Bucky and Steve fell over each other, laughing.

“Awww, Sammy I’m kidding, you know I love your pigeon suit!”

Sam sucked his teeth and made to walk away, but you grabbed his arm, trying to stop him.

“Hey, c’mon, relax man, I’m kidding.”

“You know what, you gotta chill with that.”

“You need to lighten up, so serious all the time.”

“You need to stop playing or…”

“Or what?”

He shook his head and tried to walk off again.

“Nope,” you said, grabbing on to his arm again. “Or what, Samuel?”

He didn’t say anything, he just stared at you with a slight frown on his face.

You smirked.  “That’s what I thought. You ain’t gonna do shit,” you turned back to Steve and Bucky, but Sam grabbed your arm, turning you to face him.

“Stop trying me, Y/N.”

“Hmph,” you huffed before saying your favorite comeback, “Make me.”

He jerked your arm, pulling you closer so he was in your face. “Keep saying that and one of these days I will.”

You grinned and stepped closer to him. “I absolutely look forward to that,” you told him with a wink, shaking his arm off and walking away.

Bucky and Steve, who had been standing there watching the whole exchange, watched you as you walked off then turned to Sam.

Bucky spoke first, “Call me crazy, but I think she wants you.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“I dunno, man,” Steve piped in. “Seems like it to me.”

Sam didn’t comment, he just looked after you, thinking…

———-

Thinking about what his friends said over the next week, he had made up his mind to test their theory. He decided to throw a get together at his place. Since it was nice out, he made it a cookout so that everyone would be outside. When you got there, a little late, the party was in full swing. Everyone was hanging out, talking, eating, and dancing to the music that was pumping the big speakers Sam had placed around the yard. You waved at Steve who was playing at being the DJ. You then found Sam and Bucky and gave them both big hugs, then you went off to get something to eat and mingle.

After having a few conversations with Rhodey, Wanda, Peter, and a few others, you made your way over to Bucky who was standing at the grill, watching over some of the food and started a conversation with him. While in the middle of it, Sam came back with a tray for the food.

“Buck, whatever is finished, put it on here,” he told him, holding it as Bucky placed some burgers and hot dogs onto the tray.

You turned to him and said mockingly, “Rude, I was in the middle of telling him something.”

“You can still tell him,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just letting him know what to do.”

“Whatever, Sammy.”

“What did I tell you about calling me that?”

“I’ll call you whatever I want,” you said with a smirk. “I’ve put up with you this long, I’ve earned the right.”

Sam shook his head at Bucky, who seemed to be hyper focused on placing each piece of food extra carefully on the tray, not saying a word to either of you. He was used to this bickering, and he knew why you always started arguments.

“Don’t start, Y/N,” Sam warned. “Not here.”

Again you just said, “Whatever.”

Sam let out a frustrated breath, his nostril flaring. You knew that look, but you couldn’t help yourself, you just had to tease him.

“Don’t be huffing and puffing around me, like you’re gonna do something, we both know you won’t.”

“Here you go trying me again,” he said. “For the last time: stop.”

You stepped as close as you could to him. “And for the last time: Make. Me.”

Sam just stood there, glaring at you, his eyes getting dark, the tray of food in his hands.

“Like I thought, you ain’t gonna do shit,” you said with a sly grin, loving the reaction you were getting out of him.

Just then Nat called over to you and you walked off, throwing Sam another smirk over your shoulder as you made your way to her.

Bucky looked at his friend. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you, she wants you. All this picking on you… it’s childish, but I know I’m right.”

Sam shot him a look.

Bucky shrugged. “She wants you to do something, so I say do it.”

It only took him a second before he made up his mind. Setting the tray down, Sam determinedly made his way over to where you were.

“I need to talk to Y/N for a minute. Excuse us,” he said to Nat before pulling you away by your arm.

“Sam, what are you…” you started.

“C’mon here.”

You planted your feet. “No, tell me what you want.”

He let out a frustrated groan, then, to your (and the people around you) surprise, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, and headed inside his house.

Nat looked over at Bucky who just shrugged at her, acting as if he didn’t know what was going on.

——–

Once inside, he carried  you into his room, shutting the door before putting you down. You were laughing because this was so out of the ordinary from the normally stoic and calm Sam you knew.

“Umm, what’s up with you?” you asked him, still laughing.

“I’m tired of you messin with me.”

“It’s just jokes, Sam, you gotta lighten up,” you told him, reaching for the door.

He stopped you.

“Sam, move. You had your fun, ha ha funny, now move.”

“I’m not joking with you,” he said, grabbing your arm and walking towards you, making you back up until you felt your back hit the wall.

When you were against the wall, he placed his free hand against it, trapping you. You looked up into his eyes, and you saw that dark, serious look in them you had seen many times before. That look that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sam, what..?”

“Like I said, I’m tired of you teasing me. Now you keep telling me to make you stop, so I will.”

“And how are you…”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your question before you felt his lips on your in a rough kiss that took your breath away. Not breaking the kiss, he reached his hand up under the light dress you had on. You involuntarily moved your hips towards his hand, and in one fluid motion, he gripped your panties, ripping them off and throwing them to the floor.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, pulling away when you felt the sting on your skin. You couldn’t deny it, that turned you on in a way that hadn’t happened before, but you tried to keep your attitude. “I liked those! Why’d you…”

He stopped you, kissing you again, sliding his tongue in your mouth while he slipped two of his thick fingers into your wet folds making you groan. You reached down, finding the top on his jeans and undoing them, pushing them down a bit, letting his dick spring free. He took his fingers from inside you and lifted you up again gripping the backs of your thighs, your back hitting the wall. In one swift thrust, you felt his dick enter you. Thicker than you had ever expected, you winced when you felt him stretch you as he slid inside.

He wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to thrust inside you, not giving you a chance to adjust to his size. You held on tightly to his shoulders as he started to move at an unforgiving pace, your back hitting the wall with every inward thrust, his grip on your thighs tightening. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting it, you knew that there would be marks there.

“Fuck, Sammy,” you moaned out as he kept moving inside you.

He frowned slightly hearing that name, slowed to a stop, and backed up, still deep inside you, until the backs of his knees hit the bed, he then sat down, none too gently, making you wince again. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as you started to move on top of him, leaning your forehead against his. He kept rubbing your thighs, higher and higher until his hands were on your hips. Gripping them, he helped you move on top of him. When you had the pace he wanted, he then slid his hands around to your ass, rubbing it.

His lips found yours again, kissing you softly, making you smile. But that smile was soon replaced by a loud yelp of shock when you felt him smack your ass, hard, making you slow to a stop.

“Ah, what was that for?”

“For talkin all that shit,” he said, smacking your ass again with the same intensity.

You winced. “I-I was just playin.”

“Uh-huh,” he said with another hard spank. “Well, I told you to stop and you wouldn’t listen.”

“Sammy, I…”

Smack. “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Oh, so you can’t answer me?” he said, lifting you off of his dick. “You always have so much to say any other time.”

Before you knew it, you were laid across his lap, your dress pushed up, your bare ass exposed. He spanked you again, causing you to yelp.

“Now I said, what did I tell you about callin me that?”

“D-don’t do it.”

“Right. You ain’t gonna do it anymore, huh?”

Silence.

He spanked you hard again. “Answer me.”

“N-no,” you cried.

“No, what?”

When you didn’t answer again, you were met with yet another hard smack.

“I said, no, what? You know what I wanna hear,” he spanked you again. “So say it.”

“Daddy,” you gasped. “No, daddy. I won’t do it anymore.”

“Good, girl,” he said, sitting you up and pushing you back onto the bed, making you wince when your ass hit the comforter. He loomed above you, sliding his pants down and kicking them off. “Now let’s see what we can do about that attitude.”

“I…” he cut you off, as he knelt on the bed and grabbed your legs, spreading them apart and entering you again. “Fuck, daddy.”

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed as he fucked into you hard, his hands gripping your waist. “Bet you won’t talk all that shit now.”

“N-no,” you moaned. “I won’t.”

“You just need to have that attitude fucked out of you. Don’t you?”

“Y-yes, daddy shit, yes!” your groans becoming louder as he angled his hips, hitting your spot. “Right there, daddy.”

You had almost forgotten the party going on outside, until you heard the music that was playing outside come to a momentary stop. You didn’t think much of it, until Sam hit your spot again, making you scream. After that you heard it turn back on, louder this time.

The party and people outside (who you were sure could hear you) were pushed out of your mind when he slid his hands up to your back, lifting you up, his hands holding you tight as he moved you up and down on his dick. You gripped his shoulders, holding on to him. You leaned forward and kissed him, moaning into his mouth.

He lifted you off of him, turning you over and sliding in from behind. Gripping your hips and pounding into you. You buried your head in the bed, trying to smother your moans.

“Uh-uh, don’t get quiet now,” Sam grunted. “Let them hear you. Let them hear what daddy’s doing to you.”

You lifted your head, letting out another loud moan. “Fuck, daddy, don’t stop.”

You heard the music outside get a little louder.

“That’s my good girl, fuck, you feel so good. Goddamn, so fucking good.”

You felt him stop and smack you ass once more, not as hard this time, signaling you to keep moving. You planted your hands on the bed and started throwing your ass back on him, fucking yourself on his dick. You felt his hands rub up and down your back as you kept moving against him. He then slid his hands around to your front, pulling you up against his chest. You rested your hands on his thick thighs, gripping them to keep yourself steady. One of his hands moved up to fondle your breasts through your dress while the other went down to rub on your clit.

“C’mon, baby, cum for daddy.”

“I’m so close,” you moaned. “So-so close.”

You soon felt your orgasm creeping up on you. He started kissing and biting on your neck as you moved against him, his hands still working their magic on you. You felt your body tense up as your orgasm built up, spreading from your core, to your toes, making them curl, to the tips of your fingers, digging into the skin of his thighs. You came with a loud shout, your pussy clenching around his dick, your body jerking forward. Sam kept a tight hold on you as you rode it out.

When your breathing evened out, he let you go, slipping out of you and climbing off the bed. Stroking himself.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good, cuz I’m not finished with you yet,” he grinned. “C’mere.”

You got off the bed, a little shakily, and looked at him.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

Obediently, you knelt in front of him and took his dick in your hand. You stroked it a little, marveling at the feel of it: thick and heavy, with prominent veins.

“Go on.”

You licked around the head, then slid your tongue along the length of it, making sure you got it nice and wet. When you heard him take in a sharp breath, you wrapped your lips around the head and started sucking on it. You took it in your mouth, inch by inch, until you couldn’t fit anymore. You wrapped your hand around the bit you couldn’t fit and started stroking him in time with the movements of your mouth. He began moving his hips along with you. You held your head still and let him fuck himself into your mouth. You held onto his thighs as he started moving faster, pushing his dick almost all the way in, making you gag.

“Mmm, so good,” he murmured from above you. “Letting daddy fuck your mouth like this. Such a good girl.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes and saliva drip from your lips as he kept fucking your mouth, but you didn’t pull away. Soon you felt his legs start to tremble as the movements of his hips became erratic.

“Shit, goddamn,” you heard him curse as you felt him release warm ropes of cum in your mouth.

You swallowed as much as you could before letting him fall out of your mouth. You then licked up any you missed from his dick, looking up at him as you did. He smiled down at you, when you finished.

“Good girl,” he said again, helping you up. “Now, go get cleaned up so we can go back out.”

You nodded and made your way to the bathroom. You grabbed a cloth and ran it under some warm water. You cleaned yourself up as best you could. Wiping your face and straightening your dress that was bunched up around your waist. You ran your fingers through your hair. Looking in the mirror, you deemed yourself presentable, then headed back out into his room, where he had put back on his pants and was waiting for you.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-uh, you know better,” he said, placing a hand on your hip and sliding it around to your ass.

You smiled. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you with a smile. “Let’s go.”

When you headed back outside, a few people avoided making eye contact with either of you, smirking in their drinks. You knew they’d heard you; you didn’t care though. You walked slowly back over to Nat, limping slightly, picking up the conversation you were having earlier, as if nothing had interrupted you.

Over on the other side of the yard, Bucky and Steve were talking with Sam.

“So,” Bucky said. “Was I right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

“Do you think she’ll stop now?” Steve asked. “You know picking on you, because, and no offense, it is kinda funny.”

Sam looked over to where you were and with a smirk you rolled your eyes at him.

“I almost kinda hope not,” Sam laughed. “It’s gonna be fun trying to get that attitude out of her.”

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[marveliter]

Blackout | Doc Ock

Summary: After Otto surprises you at work, the whole state of New York loses its power, and you both are in the dark.

A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! but y’all. . .it’s getting good! this story is so much fun! I can’t wait for y’all to read these few next parts as they all follow one after another! No warnings!  Also! if you guys want to read my doc ock oc daughter fanfic on Wattpad where she’s besties w/ Peter Parker and works as a vigilante with Spider-Man, I’ll link that at the bottom in case you guys are interested :) happy reading! 

The Single Word Series  Orphic 

“You think someone knows who Spider-Man is?” you ask Otto from the kitchen.        You had just gotten up from the couch, watching TV with Otto as the news played their small thirty second segment of what Spider-Man was up to and where he’d been spotted that night around the city. The news anchor had just announced that the vigilante was seen swinging past upstate New York, a very far reach from where Spider-Man usually deals with trouble.        When Otto didn’t respond, you turn around on the balls of your feet faster than a ballerina. “Wait, do you know who he is?” 

      That got a reaction out of him.        “I. . .well--”        “No way!” you cackled and jumped in the air. “No way! You do! Who is it? How old are they? I’m gonna guess 30--actually, maybe 24, I don’t think someone that old can flip through the air.”        Otto looked over his shoulder at you from the couch. “Old people now, huh?”        You laughed with him, as when he had met your coworkers, he was nervous to see if they would talk about his age and yours, and they did, but later when you got back, he was amused at how fond your one coworker, Michelle, had reacted. She had found Otto quite handsome, and had been jealous that he was yours.        All yours.        “If anything you’re the only old person I like.” you smirked at Otto. He chuckled as you resumed searching around the kitchen cabinets for a bag of popcorn to stick in the microwave. “But seriously, do you really know who Spider-Man is?” 

      Otto stuttered again before saying, “Let’s just say it’s no one that I would’ve suspected.”        “So, he’s a random person then?” you ask, finally finding the box of popcorn and pulling out one of the bags.        Otto was slow to his response, “Yes.”        “You seem like you know more than you’re letting on,” you say as you stick the popcorn bag in the microwave. “Which means he’s taken off the mask and you’ve seen his face! Is he ugly? Is he normal-looking? I thought he’d wear the mask because he has eight eyes and that’s why the white eyes are so big--so all eight eyes can see out of it--oh my God, do you think he lays eggs?”        You turn back around and approach the couch after punching in the numbers for the popcorn bag to start spinning in the microwave. Otto laughed as you take your seat next to him again, and him instantly putting an arm around you like he had before you got up. You’d only stay like that for a mere two minutes more before you’d need to get the popcorn, but you let yourself have these two more minutes of him. He’d do this again once you came back with the popcorn in a bowl, but it was nice. You’d never felt so comfortable with someone. 

      “If he laid eggs, he’d be Spider-Woman, I think,” Otto told you. You smiled at him and playfully hit him as he continued laughing, but his sweet laughter was beginning to get drowned out by the loud remarks of J. Jonah Jameson commenting on Spider-Man’s whereabouts and what the “menace” could be up to this late at night.        You roll your eyes and pick up the remote. “Bye,” you told Jameson’s digital face and clicked off to another channel.        Otto hummed happily watching you do this as you settle more into his side, knowing that you probably only had one minute left before the microwave went off.        “You know, something special is coming up,” he said.        You looked up at Otto, then stared off in front of you, thinking. When your mind came to a blank, you looked back at Otto.        “What is it?” you asked. “It’s not your birthday--that was January.” Then it clicked, “Oh! Our true six month anniversary!” Technically, this month would mark six months since dating Otto, but the day of the anniversary made it true.        “Yes,” Otto nodded with a smile, though it seemed like that still wasn’t it when he spoke. “It’s also your birthday.”        Your face fell into boredom. “Oh.” you told him. “That’s not as important.”        “What?” Otto asked in disbelief. “Of course it is--to me, at least.”        “Then you’re the only one who’s going to be celebrating it.” you told him with a shrug.        “You don’t like your birthday?” Otto asked. “Why?”        You shook your shoulders. “Too much attention.”        Otto scoffed. “That can’t be the only reason. Give me a better one.” 

      The microwave saved you by beeping, telling you that the popcorn was ready. The actuators reacted to this, unfurling from the waistband as Otto stood up from the couch.        “Sit here and think of a good reason why you don’t want to celebrate your birthday while I get the popcorn.” he was already making his way to the kitchen as he told you this.        You scoffed with a smile as you sat up on your knees and turned around on the couch to look at his back.        “Cake is too sugary.” you listed off a reason.        “So are the sweets you get from Des Bonbons,” Otto retorted.        Damn it, you thought.        “I feel weird sitting still and smiling while people sing to me.”        “Everyone does,” Otto used an actuator to grab a big bowl for the popcorn from the cabinet.        “I don’t ever ask for presents,”       “That’s fine.”        “I only ever know three people at the party since the rest only come for drinks and cake.”        “Well, the first thing that can be fixed is limiting the guests at a party. The only attendees are you and me, how about that?” Otto asked as he walked back over to the couch. He had filled the bowl with the popcorn and discarded the bag. The actuators clicked at his words, whirred too. “Make that six attendees, in a way.” 

      You smile at Otto, who playfully flicks a popcorn kernel out of one of the actuators’ claw. It took a lot of time and patience to get to where he was now relationship-wise with the actuators, a lot of mental works that he had done all by himself, but of course with your training. You had told him it was things you picked up from work and med school, but Otto didn’t think that, he thought it was all you, and kept it that way.        Because he knew you were amazing.        You snuggled into his side once again, sharing the popcorn bowl between the two of you as the lame and cliché rom-com started playing back on the TV.        “What’s the best rom-com you can stand?” you ask him. “Or, what’s one you actually like? I love While You Were Sleeping.”        Otto shrugged. “I never had time to watch movies before. Being with you has opened up a lot of movies and books and pop culture that I’ve never heard of or had interest in.”        “Oh, come on,” you playfully punch his side. “Rosie never hauled your ass to a movie theater to see a rom-com--or anything based off a book she read?”        Otto laughed, and you smiled. He’d grown so much more comfortable talking about Rosie, and at first, he worried he’d talk about her too much on a given night when she was brought up, but you actually didn’t mind it. Honestly, after hearing so many stories about her, you figured you and Rosie would’ve been best friends. He didn’t get to grieve normally as any other human being would, but Otto was pulling through, and for six months he’d been doing more than enough to make himself better. 

      “There was one time a little after we were married and I had my job at Oscorp. We hadn’t had a date night in months--actually, a year, I think, all because I was working and wanted to prove to everyone just how great I was--Rosie’s words, not mine...but, I am pretty good at science,”        You scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully as Otto continued.        “Anyways, Rosie understood how I needed to put myself out there and stay some nights, but the nights when I did come home, I was tired, and the weekends I had off I would sleep and lie around. Well, anyways, I get off work due to some mishaps of others’ projects, and when I woke up the next day ready to do some of my own project planning in my notes at the table, Rosie had hid them and told me that she and I were going to be a married couple again.”        You laughed. “She had it all planned out?”        “She was going to make me do everything we did before we were married and before I got the job at Oscorp,” Otto smiled.        You smiled. “What’d all she make you do?”        Otto chuckled sweetly, “Go to the movies, walk in the park, bake a cake--which, we discovered neither of us were good at--”        “You and I made a cake,”        “That’s because it came from a box, Rosie wanted to make it from scratch,” Otto smiled.        “Oh God!” you laughed. “At least it sounds fun!”        “Oh, it was,” Otto smiled. “I never had so much fun with Rosie, and when Oscorp reopened, I didn’t want to go back. I had had so much fun with Rosie that I realized I needed to push myself to do things with her. So, even when I was extremely tired at the end of a long week, I took Rosie to dinner or saw whatever movie adaptation she had interest in seeing.” 

      Otto smiled, looking off into the distance for a few moments before he turned back to you.        “And now,” he said, his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You have shown me what a lazy ass I can be when I don’t have any work to do.”        You laughed as you fell more into his side, with Otto laughing as well. You picked your head up and kissed him, smiling into the kiss. Otto then kissed your cheek, his beard scratching and tickling your skin.        “I’m jealous I can’t be a lazy ass with you.” you tell him. His arm brings you in tighter to his side.        Otto hums a chuckle, his hand rubbing up and down your arm. “I wish you could have a whole month off so we can be lazy asses together.”        You scoffed. “How about a year? I’ll just quit and that’ll solve the problem.”        Otto laughed with you, and just as he was about to kiss you again, the TV changed from the same-story rom-com to emergency news.        “UGH!” you groan, throwing a small throw pillow from your couch at the TV. Otto’s two top actuators followed your lead and threw two more throw pillows from the couch at the TV as well.        Otto shrugged, “At least it’s not--”        “--J. Jonah Jameson here!”        “--never mind.” 

      “We’re not sure how long until our signal goes out, but the menace we’ve all come to know as Spider-Man has been fighting crime upstate by the electrical power starters that plug all the five boroughs with power!”        “What is he talking about?” you ask.        “I think he’s trying to tell us that something’s wrong with the--”        And just like that, the TV, the light from the kitchen, the digital clock on top of the TV, the time on the microwave and oven, and even some lights out through the windows of your apartment died.        You and Otto were in complete darkness.        “...power.” Otto finished.        “How the hell did Spider-Man do this?” You ask. You start to think that the electricity is coming back as there’s some light in the corner of your eye, but it’s only the small LED light from the middle of the actuators. You move off Otto as he stands up from the couch and moves towards the windows.        “There is not a single light I can see from here.” he says as sirens chirp from the outside. 

      “Damn.” you mutter, and then your heart jumps in your throat. “The hospital!” You pick up your phone and call into your supervisor right away. You ask if everyone is okay, and if you’re needed. When you’re told everything is fine and you need to stay where you are, you sigh in relief, and you only hang up when you know for sure that everything is okay.        “I’ve never seen New York so dark,” Otto says from across the room as he still looks out the windows.        Quincey, best friend and coworker calls you. She’s off tonight from the hospital as well. You talk to her and walk around your apartment, flipping switches to make sure and finding candles in your bathroom.        “Time to finally put to use all of those scented candles my aunt gives me for my birthday, Christmas, and Easter.” you tell Quincey as you start stacking candles on the floor of your bathroom where you sit. This was only a small handful of all the candles you had. “I tell my aunt I liked candles one time when I was eight because I had a super trendy girly phase. How embarrassing.”        “This could be fun, ya know,” Quincey tells you over the phone. There’s a tone to her voice, sweet and seductive.        “What?” you ask her.        She painfully groans your name like you pretended to not understand, “Come on, New York has lost all power, you’re getting candles, you’ll light the candles--it’s dark, the candles will smell sweet, you have Otto, and it’s dark,” she really pushes on that idea. 

      “Quincey,” you say toughly. “What is your point?”        She huffed your name again, “Otto, darkness, candles, lighting the mood,”        “Quincey why would I need to...oh...” it hit you. “Uh...”        “I’m just playing with you! Don’t do anything that’ll pressure either one of you, but make it romantic for crying out loud. You love Otto, and I want you to have some fun!”        Well, you never truly did tell Otto that you loved him, he hadn’t even said the word to you.        “Quincey, I’m not--”        “I’m not telling you to do it, but don’t stress about all of this. Turn it into something fun.” her dog started barking in the background, to which Quincey had to go to calm her down.        With your handful of candles, you walk back into the living room to see Otto in the kitchen with his own handful of candles.        He smiled at you. “Oh good, we had the same idea!”        You smile at him as you both gather your candles on the counter and find a lighter.        “This will be nice,” Otto smiled as he lit a candle and placed it on the coffee table in the living room. 

      You smiled, but inside, you were nervous. You weren’t the one to really make the move, especially one this big, you’ve never done it before--anything Quincey was nudging at, you hadn’t done it. But you had nothing to worry about because it wasn’t going to happen, it wouldn’t because why would that moment stem from all of this? You were okay. Otto was okay.        Even if he did look more handsome in candlelight. 

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

nEW SESSION (summary here!), where there’s been an unexpected development to the music issue and its time to [checks my notes] taLK TO THE PROPHET AND BREAK INTO SUSIE’S APARTMENT??? Also, the Prophet and Joey have made.... a truce(???), Prophet is concerned Sammy isn’t going to stay on task now that music is returning and has left him a sort of alarming note, and Jack is uh, trying to hold, too many things, maybe some things he shouldn’t be holding, Jack please put those things back,

anyway heres a stack of out-of-context quotes from our session under the readmore:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] My favourite thing is, there are so many reasons that Henry could've avoided things that I have no idea WHY Henry isn't affected. [Jack] Like, is he not affected because his art isn't a performance? Is he not affected because he warded his house? Is he not affected because he'S FILLED WITH GLOWING BLOOD?!?

[Jack] He got as far as feeding his cat, and I feel like feeding cat isn't a performance-- [Sammy] Not usually, not unless you sing a song to your cat, which-- [Jack] Awww! [Sammy] -- which, now that I've said that, sounds like something Jack would do actually,

[Sammy] Ohhhh, that's right, Joey just heard some people play some bad notes and start panicking, and then he stood up and passed out, [Jack] Which is probably how Sammy feels every time he hears people mess up music!

[GM] He finds news on the radio, but they’re not talking about that right now. [Joey] What are they talking about? [GM] Something mundane; business or sports or something. [Jack] The, the sportsball team, got a…..uh….. a, a point. Congratulations, sportsball,

[Joey] If the sportscasters sound normal, then Joey is instantly VERY ANGRY.

[Henry] Henry’s not very musically inclined, but he knows some songs, [Sammy] Like, can you hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star -- [Jack] “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

[Jack] Jack has made a vague list of the kinds of people who seem to be affected. [Jack] There’s also “NOT HENRY?????” with a bunch of question marks in this list.

[GM] He’s told that Peter is out of town for a week. [Jack] Hmm. [Sammy] PETER WHERE ARE YOU GOING? [Jack] Hmmmmmm. [Sammy] Jack, is Peter coming here, to check on you, [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMMM,

[Sammy] *exasperated* NPCs Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Challenge [Henry] Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Or Draw 25

[Joey] Peter had never seen a Bendy cartoon, and this needed to be fixed. [Joey] The premier is this weekend, and he sent tickets to Pete to correct this, error, in his ways. [Jack] ...I think it is very slowly dawning on Jack, that this means that Pete has been pulled directly into yet another… supernatural nonsense... [Sammy] WE DIDNT DO THIS ONE!!

[Sammy] I CAN’T BELIEVE PHONES ARE THE ANTAGONIST OF THIS ADVENTURE

[Henry] Oh wait--! oh, no, nevermind, I forgot he and Allison probably aren’t together yet. [Sammy] Yeah, I think they just met; they had a meet-cute where they found out they both like Frankenstein and that’s it. [Jack] They actually got married today, since nothing else was happening at the Studio, [Sammy] That’s why Allison hasn’t shown up, she was busy getting married!

[GM] Bendy might’ve been keeping tabs on Henry, but it depends I guess on how distressed Joey is seeming. [Joey] Joey is probably just going to bury his sorrow in studying magic. [GM] Okay! That’s fine and normal Joey behaviour!

[Sammy] Sammy will note that nothing got done in the music department, because he has good priorities.

[Jack] I like the idea that it’s just like, when the teacher isn’t in, and nobody does the work the substitute teacher gave you, [Jack] Everyone’s just playing pokemon in the back, [GM] I thought you were going to say “poker,” but I like the way you ended the sentence better.

[Jack] HMMMMMM. I wonder if we know, any suspicious women, who were around on that specific day, who are known to have, skill and interest in magical things,  [Joey] And also were aware of the cutouts, [Sammy] *cheerfully* Yeah, weird! Anyway!!!!

[Jack] Sammy was acting weird about Allison. Far too agreeable for a Sammy!

[Sammy] *talking about Prophet* If you want to lock him in somewhere, or restrain him, I’ll cooperate. [Jack] Just handcuff him to Jack! [Sammy] SAMMY IS UNEASY WITH THAT PLAN, [Jack] *laughing* What could go wrong! It’s not like Jack is significantly less strong or anything!!

[Jack] Not everyone makes up their entire self, Joey!!! (Affectionate)!!

[Sammy] I give my word, my sheep! [Henry] How good is your word? [Sammy] I mean. It’s pretty good.

[Henry] Henry’s trying to decide if it would be rude to doodle during this very serious conversation. [Jack] I mean, Jack is taking notes, so I feel like-- [Joey] --you can get away with fake note-ing. [GM] No one will know! [GM] Well, Bendy will know, because he’s up high. [GM] Ceiling Bendy

[Sammy] He’s not gonna give you a grade afterwards, like, this isn’t a lecture, [Jack] Time for Prophet Pop Quiz!

[GM] What’s Prophet writing? [Sammy] Um, I gotta think about this... [Jack] “Dear Frightened Shepherd, that Allison person sure is nice, isn’t she?” [GM] “What’s up with everyone ragging on her?” [Joey] “I think I have finally found a way to bridge the gap between us!” [Jack] “I think you need to replace your sheep, they seem kind of suspicious for no reason,” [Jack] “To Do List: Get Better Sheep”

[Sammy] Does this feel like something that’s trying to take his focus, like, very compelling creative ideas? [GM] Yes. [Sammy] ...Prophet will write “don’t get distracted” five more times.

[GM] His mind is abuzz with thoughts of dancing and actoring, [GM] Ideas to be the best Joey ever! [Jack] Oh no.

[Joey] He will wave at the cutout and make a “come here” motion. [Joey] Though also, he’s looking at the cutout like, I’m not quite sure how this works, but I’m going to trust you that it works! So I’m going to do this and see if Bendy shows up! [Jack] Like someone trying to learn how to do phone video calls for the first time, [Joey] YES. Joey’s actually like really close to the cutout, and the motions -- you can make them out, but it’s really awkward,

[Sammy] They’re in no danger. I will take care of the Shepherd’s sheep. [Jack] ...JACK’S BEEN DOWNGRADED!! He’s no longer PROPHET’S sheep!

[Joey] I like how everything Prophet says really just feels like, Knife Cat face.

[GM] You could probably make a Mythos roll to figure it out. [Joey] *rolls* Oh! Extreme success! [GM] Joey’s back!

[GM] Bendy will lead Joey back to the room, where hopefully there are three alive, non-fighting boys!

[Jack] Part of me was like, “What if Jack DOES turn into a cat…?! It’d be pretty hard to write things!” [GM] *laughs* We’ll keep that in our back pocket, in case Jack ever fails a Mythos check. [Jack] Meowthos check…

[Henry] I’m going to have Henry look, look with his Special Eyes.

[Sammy] *failing a roll* Prophet is just, NOT on the ball today, in any way shape or form. [GM] Really hard not to think about music. : ) [Sammy] Ohhhhhh boy, [Jack] Prophet just writes a note to Sammy that says “HOW do you LIVE like this???”

[Henry] Henry’s gonna try to scribble what he remembers of the symbol!  [Sammy] Didn’t we learn, from the last scenario, about reproducing weird symbols, [Henry] No.

[Joey] Did Joey get burnt? [GM] Make a dexterity roll! : ) [Henry] *mumbling* Y’all this entire building is made of wood. *Joey fails* [GM] 1 point of damage, you singe your hand -- on the plus side, you kind of were holding it as it burned up, so it doesn’t fall on the wooden floor. [Sammy] OH GOOD, we’re not LOCKED IN A CLOSET that’s about to burn down? GREAT!

[Joey] We could head over to the infirmary -- [Jack] Jack is already pulling the burn ointment out of his bag. [Jack] He’s prepared this time! [Jack] He’s been practicing, he knows what you’re all like,

[Joey] Joey will give him a smile that’s most recognisable as the “I know you will do good!” smile. [Sammy] Prophet will also smile! It is not a friendly smile. [Jack] It’s a “smile” in quotation marks, but it’s like, baring your teeth as an act of aggression. 

[Jack] Jack lets him go to do the call, but just before he picks up the phone, he says, “Don’t call him Petey.”

[GM] The phone rings, and is not answered. [Joey] Okay! Joey hangs up, says Peter checked into his room, but is not answering. Most likely asleep. [Jack] Half of my brain is going, “what if he’s just stood outside Jack’s house?” The other half of my brain is concerned about manias. I hope he’s not decided that now is a really great time to do more writing, and now he can’t stop, and this could go wrong-- [Jack] This is what Jack’s mind is doing, thinking of all the terrible possibilities. [Joey] While humming. [Jack] ...yes. He’s writing some very troubling lyrics.

[Sammy] *talking about Jack’s compulsive humming* Like Cornifer, [Jack] *starts humming Cornifer’s theme* Dangit, now it’s in my head, why would you do this to me? [Sammy] It’s in character! [Sammy] Method acting. : )

[Joey] Joey’s going to grab supplies to make sure Bendy can… hang around with them! [Joey] Sleepover supplies! Let’s grab your sleepover bag! :D

[Sammy] I don’t know why the idea of a wild Bendy running around across the rooftops is so cute to me… [GM] Probably on all fours, [Jack] Scampering,

[Jack] It’s a good thing Henry’s around because I don’t think Jack can… carry??? An entire Sammy??? [Jack] Like he’s good at holding but he’s not strong at holding.

[Joey] We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours… [Joey] WAIT. We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours!!!

[GM] Bendy hides under a blanket or something. [Jack] Comfey… [GM] Cozy boy, [Joey] Bendyrito. [Sammy] BENDYRITO,…….. [GM] Rolled up… snug...

[GM] Is everybody coming into the apartment, or just the two? [Jack] Hmmm….. Jack isn’t fond of either of these options. Going in is suspicious and weird; staying outside makes it look even more like they’re breaking in, to steal things, as opposed to, y’know, breaking in, for,,, “good” reasons(???) [Sammy] We’re not breaking in, we’re just walking into this apartment! What’s so weird about that?! [Jack] That’s breaking in. That’s what breaking in is, Sammy. [Sammy] They don’t have to know that we don’t belong here, maybe Susie gave us a key! [Jack] ...they heard us knocking. [Sammy] [Sammy] We’re BEING POLITE!! SHUT UP!!

[Henry] Jack, did you pick up kleptomania.. [Joey] I thought Jack picked up Being Prepared! [Jack] H-he’s just hoarding a little bit!! It’s fine!!! It’s very, useful, see, already Joey got injured!! It was useful to bring lots of things with him okay!!!!!!!!!

[GM] They do not have the police called on them, so that’s nice. [Sammy] Oh good! [Jack] Thank GOODNESS. [Henry] Love when that happens! [GM] If you guys got arrested, the Lurker’s just out in the car all night, [Henry] oh NO, [Jack] Worse punishment than jail… [Joey] Lurker learns how to drive for fun. [GM] *laughs* Gets curious, [Joey] “I said I wouldn’t leave the car, but--”

[Joey] WAIT. There’s a very important factor that we just decided but didn’t say. [GM] Oh? [Joey] If we have Henry heading home, and everyone else sleep over at Jack’s…. [Joey] ...the Lurker finally gets to meet a cat. *everyone gasps* [Jack] Oh that’s SO important

[Henry] And Henry will probably look at these, while in the car, to make sure they don’t have any gold writing on them-- [Sammy] Isn’t Henry driving??? [Henry] ……Henry is not going to look at them in the car,

[Sammy] We’re all going to bed, Sammy, you don’t need a banjo to sleep! [Joey] You might sleep worse if you have a banjo, actually. You might not stop.

[Sammy] Jack you wanna join us? We’re gonna just jam all night! [Jack] It really is Jammy… [Sammy] *laughs* TRUE Jammy!! Real Jammy Hours… [GM] That makes it a pyJAMa party… a real jammy jam…

[canonicallysoulmates]

Okay….so on Sunday a thread was posted on twitter by a fan that was sharing another fan’s info from Jensen’s Denvercon meet and greet in regards to the events surrounding the prequel in June. I’m gonna do a recap but not go into the details of the contents because that’s not the point of this post, this is just my opinion on what was shared because I have talked about this topic since the night it started so I’m not just gonna ignore what seems to be Jensen’s side of the story just because I’m past ready to close the chapter. But I am going to link to the twitter thread and I highly recommend reading it before this post so you have all the details: 🧵

So, the prequel was asked about in the m&g, not the situation but Jensen still shared what it was that happened.

To recap the whole thing initially during lockdown him and D were going to watch spn eps and provide commentary, WB liked the idea wanted to make it but they didn’t want to pay so Jensen and D refuse, Peter Roth creates Chaos Machine productions gives it to them to start making content except they had no other ideas basically they did one job well and their boss gave them a promotion that they are vastly unqualified for, Jensen comes up with the idea for the prequel which WB likes, he gets Kripke on board- he’s flying by the seat of his pants cause he has no idea what he’s doing. The ball’s rolling he’s talking to industry people about the project but he’s not telling anyone else it's on a need to know basis. Reason given? Because he’s superstitious.

Allegedly...somebody leaked the information to Deadline. He got called on set because that counted as an emergency…...and instead of coming up with a plan they acted like chickens with their heads cut off randomly retweeting and posting some stuff to do bad damage control on something that didn’t need it, and act like this wasn't a leak. Also that quote Deadline said he gave? Apparently not him.

He gets back to filming but at some point fakes a bathroom break so he can check his phone and that’s when he finds out that Jared found out and when he realizes that he screwed up. According to the fan he did look remorseful.

The only thing that was missing from this tale was Jensen’s side of the story and now it seems we got it; it’s gonna be up to each individual to decide whether or not they believe this report and after if they believe Jensen is telling the truth, personally I do believe in the legitimacy of what was said in terms of the report, and while I don’t believe that the leak came from some random employee (y’all ever heard the saying: while the cats the mice will play, I think some mice played and it wasn't employee #7) I do think Jensen was being as truthful as possible. He never set out to hurt Jared, he didn’t do it on purpose, he never intended for Jared to find out the way he did, he himself admits he made a mistake; he fucked up but the good thing is it does sound like he learned his lesson.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, at the end of the day Jensen is a human being he’s gonna make mistakes and sadly sometimes we end up unintentionally hurting those we love.

Honestly, from the sounds of it, it seems Jensen is very out of the loop when it comes to this project like his involvement was just to come up with the idea, recruit Thompson, and get Kripke’s approval and basically just use his name for leverage when needed so not what we were lead to believe originally cause originally we were led to think he was super involved and on top of it. He (and D) also seems to be out of his depth with no clue what he’s doing. The future shall dictate what happens with this company, for his sake I do wish it does well cause I want him to succeed.

In regards to June, for me this is the last piece of the puzzle. Do I think we have all the details? No, but like I’ve said a million times we’re never going to get those but in my opinion we do have a clear enough image of what happened. And I don’t think the boys are lying about it or came up with this narrative together. I know sometimes it’s easier to believe in the scandalous, and I know there are those for whom this will all seem too clean, too tidy but sometimes a horse is just a horse not a zebra. But like I said, it’s up to each individual to decide what they believe and what they think of this new information.

[geminiwritten]

heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

[cracked-pean]

Not Knowing Pt.2

Characters: Derek Hale, Female! Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Kate Argent (mentioned), Deaton (mentioned)

Word Count: 5,086

Warnings: Buried Alive, Panic Attack, Angst, Fluff Ending, Torture/Punishments (mentioned)

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: This is part 2 and final part to ‘Not Knowing’ As i mentioned in part 1 this one took a whole mind of its own. But one scene from two shows inspired this to happen. One from ‘Criminal Minds’ and the other from ‘Leverage’ I hope y’all enjoyed it. Let me know what y’all thought about. Again sorry about any errors and missing warnings (please let me know if i missed any so i can tag them)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The pack stood around the living room, still in shock at the information that Kate had given them. Her terms were, they had to agree on letting her go if they wanted to get the location where their friend was at. Kate had seemed truthful enough the pack had to take what they were given. The wolves decided to go by foot, since they'd be faster and Lydia and Stiles went in her car. Once they were on the road Stiles stared at the piece of paper with the number that Kate had given them. She had said that that's how they'd get their proof if [Y/N] was alive or not.

Lydia noticed his hesitation and placed a hand on his that was holding the slip of paper, “I know. But we have to do it. We have to bring her home,” she paused. “Even if we’re too late.”

[Y/N] had started to come to from an odd sound ringing loudly by her ears. Her head was throbbing and the sound wasn’t helping. The movements on her eyes made her head pound more so [Y/N] decided for her head to calm down a bit before trying them again. The floor felt different. It wasn't concrete like it normally was. This was rough, but smooth. She tried opening her eyes again but realized that wherever she was, was just dark with no such thing as a light source. She leaned forward a bit to get up but instantly regretted it as her head made contact with something hard. [Y/N] lifted her arms instead slowly this time but came in contact with the hard object just a few inches above her.

Trying to figure out what was happening and where she was, the ringing sound from earlier had come on again. She felt around and patted her body and found a small object in one of her jean’s pockets. A phone. It was a small silver flip phone and the small screen glowed a random number. Flipping it open, the call was answered.

"H-hello?" she shakingly spoke.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N] is that you?" the voice said quickly.

[Y/N] was so confused but answered anyway. "Yeah, who is this? What do you want?"

Wherever she was at didn't seem to have much room for her. The small phone produced enough light for her to shine around. Then she paused at the reply the voice gave.

"Oh my God. [Y/N] it's Stiles, we're coming to get you," Stiles? Get her? We who? Where the hell even was she.

With the close proximity she was in, she was still able to hear the phone while shining the light around. Wood. This was all wood. Was she in a box. They had trapped her in a box this time. Great. She tried kicking it open with her feet, but she was too compacted, there wasn't enough room to get a good enough momentum to do much damage.

"Hey, are you still there? What's that sound?" Stiles’ voice rang out from the phone again.

She groaned and let her head drop back against the wooden floor.

"They locked me in a wooden box. I can't get out, it's too small."

There were some mumbles on the other end of the line, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Until there was a sigh and the voice was directed back to her.

"Ok [Y/N] don't panic. You're going to be just fine. We're on our way to get you."

"Stiles do you know where am I? I don't even know where I am and I'm in a box," she let out a hard kick and a bit of dirt was let in through the cracks.

"What the hell?" She whispered but Stiles was able to hear it.

"Um, ok. There's no easy way to say this but don't freak ok," there was a small pause. "Kate buried you underground."

[Y/N] froze as she was about to give out another kick. Buried? She was buried? The small box, the dirt, the wood. Oh my god.

She was in a coffin.

Her heart began to race and her breathing started to come out in small gasps. She felt like she was about to pass out, but she pushed that thought away. The phone slipped out of her grasp and fell beside her head as she gripped her hair in her hands.

No, no, no. This cannot be happening to her. Not this. Anything but this.

"-[Y/N]. Focus on my voice. [Y/N], c'mon [Y/N/N]."

Fortunately, the call didn't end and Stiles tried to get her attention back on him.

"S-stiles. I-i can't br-eath." She gasped in every word she spoke.

Stiles glanced at Lydia in the driver seat with wide eyes as her grip tightened around the steering wheel. The banshee stepped on the gas a little more, keeping focus on the road. Lydia couldn’t afford to lose it while behind the wheel. If something were to happen to them, then what good would that do in finding and helping [Y/N]. Stiles was starting to panic himself but he tried to push it down and focus on trying to get his friend to calm down.

"[Y/N], I need you to close your eyes and take in a deep breath and let it out when I tell you to, ok."

"I c-can't."

"Yes, you can. I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere. Scott and the others are on foot, they'll be there before you know it. But I need you to calm down for me ok?"

[Y/N] closed her eyes and placed her right hand over her heart to try and slow it down a bit.

"Ok."

Stiles let out a small sigh and reassured Lydia that everything was ok.

"Alright breathe in," he heard an intake and waited a few seconds before continuing, "breathe out," and then there was an exhale. This went out for a few minutes till [Y/N] told him she was ok for the time being.

It was quiet on [Y/N]'s end but Stiles let her know he was still there and he knew she was too by the sound of her breathing.

-

Derek was taking the lead. The others were behind him close by, but he was slightly faster than them. It could have been the alpha spark in him, or the anger that he was feeling towards Kate and her men. Whatever it was, he was glad it was giving him strength to keep pushing towards the girl.

He was lost in thought when he took in a familiar scent.

"Stop." He motioned the others to hold their position.

"You smell that?"

Scott was confused but took a whiff of the air around him as did the other wolves.

Peter broke the silence, "It's faint, but it's her. It's [Y/N]."

Derek gave him a nod.

"We must be getting close to her" Commented Isaac.

They concentrated on her scent to decide what direction they should head in next.

"This way. Let's go," Derek motioned them to follow.

The further in the woods they got, the stronger her scent got. They had thought this was a win for them. They were so close to saving her. Having her near them again. That is until they got to the clearing.

"What the hell?" Erica gasped.

It was an open field with a bunch of freshly dug up holes. Each pile had a shovel stacked on top with a piece of clothing belonging to their friend attached to the handles. Her scent was everywhere. No wonder it was so strong.

"How are we supposed to know which one she's in now?" Boyd questioned.

Derek rubbed a hand across his forehead and let out a frustrated sigh. Knowing Kate, he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy to rescue [Y/N].

"Scott, call Lydia,"

-

There was ringing coming from Lydia's phone in the cup holder indicating she was getting a call. Lydia gave him the go ahead to answer it since she was driving.

He put the call on speaker and held it in between the both of them.

“We're here. Did you get a hold of her yet?” Scott's voice rang through the car.

“Yeah we did, she's fine for now,” Lydia assured him.

There was a sigh of relief on the other end.

“Ok that's good but we have another problem now. The field we're at is surrounded by a bunch of piles of dirt with her scent at each one. We don't know which one she's at.”

“Stiles,” it was Peter. “Tell her to make some kind of noise if she can. We might be able to hear her if she's not too far below.”

Stiles mumbled an ok and returned to his call with [Y/N], "Hey [Y/N/N], the others are at the field where you are. I don't know how far below you are, but can you make some sort of sound for them to hear you?"

"Y-yeah. I can-n try."

"Ok, as loud as you can [Y/N]."

She set the phone beside her head and balled her hands into fist and began to bang the roof of the coffin. The dirt was starting to make way in through the cracks more. Her bare feet started to ache as kicked with them as well, she's sure there were some blood stains at the end now.

Peter handed back the phone to Scott and told him to keep the line open.

The wolves split up and walked around the piles and concentrated on listening for any sound that would let them know which one their friend was trapped in.

"Stiles I can't do it anymore," [Y/N] spoke through her end slightly out of breath.

"Just a little longer [Y/N/N], we're so close," Stiles reassured her.

Lydia's grip on the wheel began to tighten more if that was possible. She took her phone out of Stiles’ grip and spoke.

"Scott anything? I don't think she can hold out much longer."

Scott sighed, "We're trying but I think she's too far down."

She glanced at Stiles, knowing that he heard his best friend.

Derek was about to pull the plug and tell them to dig up every patch there was. He would not stop till they found her. Dead or alive.

"Guys, over here. I think I've got her."

Everyone turned to Erica's call. They hadn't realized how big the patches extended to. Erica was at the other end of the field and kneeled down closer to the pile of dirt she was at.

Right at that moment, Lydia's car pulled up to the field.

"Oh my god," Lydia breathed out. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. God, she really hoped there weren’t any other bodies below those piles. The two jumped out of the car and ran straight towards where the others seemed to be heading.

"[Y/N], another sound I think we’ve got you," Stiles spoke into the phone as he ran.

[Y/N] sighed. She was sweaty and out of breath from all that banging, plus the oxygen was slipping past her quickly from all her movements in the coffin. Not to mention, small dirt piles had begun to form on and around her from dirt that had fallen through the cracks. Closing her eyes, [Y/N] pictured all her friends laughing and having fun. Their smiles shining brightly, a small memory flashing before her with each one, trying to muster up what little strength she had left in her to give it another go. Until a certain one’s made her heart skip a beat. Derek.

If what Kate had said was true about [Y/N] being Derek’s weakness, then Derek was [Y/N]’s as well. She couldn’t recall when the exact moment she realized her feelings towards the Alpha had blossomed, but they were real. Her heart would race a little when she caught sight of him, her stomach did backflips when he would make contact with her skin whether it be in passing or while training. Her breath would hitch slightly when he would suddenly appear in the room or beside her. Every feeling you could think of, she had felt. [Y/N] hadn’t tried to hide her feelings but she hadn’t tried to make them known either, they were just there. And if the pack had caught a whiff of them, they didn’t mention them to her.

[Y/N] scrunched up her eyebrows and gathered up the little strength she had left. C’mon [Y/N], you can do it. Derek taught us to fight till our last dying breath, and that’s what you’re going to do.

She began to punch and kick harder this time, trying to make as much noise as she could. The last kick she made was too hard. It caused a board at the end by her feet to loosen and break, letting dirt completely cover her below the knees.

“Fuck, that’s not good,” she muttered.

The others above ground arrived just as Erica was able to confirm that she was able to hear banging below the pile. Derek grabbed the shovel from the pile and began to dig. Boyd jumped in with one of the surrounding shovels and quickly began to help the Alpha.

“Stiles, a board broke and more dirt fell through. I can’t anymore,” Her voice came out softly through the phone as small tears began to well up in her eyes.

“It’s ok [Y/N], just hold on a bit longer. We’re digging you up right now,” the boy ran a hand along his forehead as he gripped the phone tightly in the other.

“I’m so tired.” With that [Y/N]’s eyes closed.

Stiles’ eyes widened, “No, no, no. C’mon stay awake. [Y/N]?” But there was no reply from her end. “Guys, I think she passed out.”

Derek pushed even more, every breath he took he shoved the shovel even deeper, trying to get enough out of the grave. Suddenly, the tool made contact with something hard. Derek called out, “I GOT HER!”

He tossed the shovel aside and kneeled down on the wooden box as he quickly began to brush the dirt away. He tried looking for some sort of handle to open it but there was none, it was all nailed down. With no other choice he balled up his fist and let it fall through the box. His eyes glowed as he began to tear away wooden boards determined to reach her, and there she was. Her hair was all tangled and scattered around her face. She had black smudges from the sweat and dirt coming together. Derek made a big enough gap and carefully began to pull up [Y/N]’s body through. Peter and Scott reached down and helped pull her above ground onto the grass. Lydia kneeled down beside her, brushing away the girl’s face and dusting off some dirt from her face. [Y/N]’s skin was a bit cold compared to the others.

“There’s a blanket in the backseat of my car,” Lydia said to no one specific but Isaac ran to get it.

“She’s still alive, she’s ok. Just passed out,” Peter informed them.

Derek was still in the grave, it reached up to his waist while standing on top of the box, he had his head hung low as he leaned on the grass for support. He focused his hearing on just her and sighed in relief. [Y/N] was still breathing, it was faint but began to regulate itself as she breathed in more of the open air, and her heart was steady as well. The fear of almost losing her was a terrible feeling for him. God. He understood what Kate had meant now. It was the not knowing. Not knowing if he and the others would make it to her in time. Not knowing if she was alive or not. Not knowing if he would ever get to see her again, her smile, hear her laugh at some joke one of the pack members had told her, feel her hugs. The not knowing was truly the worst.

“[Y/N]? Can you hear me?” Lydia gently spoke to her. [Y/N] had begun to stir and grumble in her place. The others gathered closer but still left enough space for her to not feel suffocated. [Y/N]’s eyes fluttered open and saw spots of black and red. She blinked a few times to adjust her eyesight and the black and red spots could now be recognized as the night sky and Lydia’s red hair. I’m alive? She made a move to sit up and Lydia slowly helped her, right then Isaac appeared with the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Ow, that hurt,” she mumbled as she brought a hand to her head and leaned against the girl’s chest.

“Yeah, you have quite a bump on the back of your head,” Lydia mentioned.

[Y/N] looked around but her body went stiff. Those eyes. Oh god, she wasn’t safe. This was all a trick. She looked back at the others and their eyes had changed. She began to scoot away from them. No this can’t be happening.

“[Y/N], hey what’s the matter?” Scott asked as he neared her.

“No, no. Get away from me,” her voice was soft and shaky, but filled with fear.

Their eyes were glowing. These weren’t her friends. It was Kate and her men.

Everyone was met with confusion and worry. She had been fine literally a second ago. The wolves could smell fear radiate off her. But there was nothing around for her to be scared off. These were her friends, they would never harm her, never in their wildest dreams.

Derek quickly glanced up at her and noticed her eyes shifting between everyone and trying to create far enough distance from everyone. He slowly jumped out of the grave and made small movements towards not wanting to frighten her even more.

“[Y/N], it’s us. You know us, we're your friends, we’re not going to hurt you.”

Someone had spoken but [Y/N] couldn’t hear them. Kate and her men had traumatized her too much to be able to recognize her friends anymore. All the people around her, their eyes were just like theirs when they would come in her room and punish her.

Lydia and Stiles just stared at her. When [Y/N] had come to she was fine, but as soon as she saw everyone else she tried to get away from them. Stiles glanced at his friends and cursed. All their eyes were glowing, none were their normal eye color. None looked human to her, except his and Lydia’s.

“Lydia, Kate must have done something to her. She doesn’t recognize the others, but she does us,” he pointed out to her and the redhead instantly understood. The two spoke amongst each other and then split ways. Lydia walked towards the others and gathered them together while Stiles carefully walked towards the girl curled up in herself on the floor mumbling softly.

“Hey,” he gently spoke and placed a hand to her shoulder. The action caused her to jump a little and look up. Her eyes met light brown ones and something clicked in her.

“Stiles?”

He gave her a small smile and nodded, “Yeah, it’s me. You ok?”

The others noticed her voice change and saw she didn’t move away from him. This relaxed them a little and returned their focus back to Lydia.

“T-they were here. Kate and them, they were here,” her eyes made to move around him but Stiles quickly stopped the motion.

“[Y/N], you’re safe now. They’re gone now. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No, no. I saw them. I saw their eyes,” she muttered out.

This caused Stiles to sigh sadly. He had hoped his and Lydia’s suspicion to be wrong be it wasn’t. “That wasn’t them, that was the pack. Our Friends.”

[Y/N] made another move to look behind him but was stopped again. What was going on? Why wouldn’t Stiles let her see the others.

“But you can’t see them just yet. I need to listen to me very closely.” [Y/N] looked at him closely but complied.

“I’m not sure what exactly Kate did, but I’m pretty sure she made you fear us. Well, the wolves more specifically. See, when you woke up Lydia was with you and you were fine. But, once you saw the others you panicked.” [Y/N] looked down at the grass between them and thought about it as he spoke. “That’s because their eyes weren’t their human color. Its what’s causing you to freak out. Notice how you’re not backing away from me?” She glazed back up at him and nodded. Stiles grinned, “That’s because I’m not a werewolf. I can’t change my eyes like they can.”

[Y/N] thought back on what had happened to her in the time she spent away from the others in that cold, isolated room.

“She hardly ever came to see me,” Lydia and the others were now focusing on the two on the grass floor. Listening in on their conversation. “She always had her men do her work for her. They were horrible, Stiles. They would punish me for the hell of it. They’d starve me, hunt me,” she couldn’t hold back the tears as they ran down her stained cheeks. “Cut me. But, they were always shifted. Claws, teeth, eyes, everything.” A deep growl came from behind them but she didn’t worry about it too much. She understood it was her friends and that they were listening. But that didn’t mean she didn’t slightly tense up when hearing it.

“I know it’s gonna be hard for you to see them face to face, so I have an idea. Only if you’re up for it,” Stiles offered. [Y/N] nodded. She was willing to do anything. She had spent too much time away from them already and she wanted to be near them again. No matter how long it took, she wanted her family back.

Stiles nodded and began to shift their bodies together, never once letting her lose eye contact with him. He had made them switch places of a sort, making it this time for Donnie to have her back towards the others and Stiles facing her and them at the same time.

“I’m going to ask each of them to come over to us, but you won’t be looking at them. You’ll only be able to focus on their voice and touch. Your eyes will deceive you, but your ears won’t. You know it’s our pack here with us now so trust me. Trust yourself.” [Y/N] closed her eyes and let out a small breath, once opened she gave him a slight nod.

Stiles gave Lydia a nod and she began to send one member at a time.

The first one over was Erica. The blonde began to run towards her best friend and came to a stop just before reaching her and walked slowly towards [Y/N]. Erica wasn’t sure what to say so she said the first thing that would make [Y/N] believe it was truly her.

“Hi Wonder Woman,” Erica’s voice came out in a whisper as she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder but [Y/N] was able to hear it.

She chuckled and placed her own over the one on her right, “Hi Batwoman.”

That was how each played out. One by one each member made themselves known to her whether it be a nickname or a “Glad your back” but Donnie was able to recognize each voice to each name. Then it was down to one person left.

Derek was scared. Of course [Y/N] was going to recognize him, but Derek feared that Kate might have done something to her to fear Derek in a different matter other than his shifted eyes. Kate had taken [Y/N] to hurt Him. Kate had made [Y/N] fear his pack to hurt Him. All that she had done to her was to hurt Derek and he was wary of  what he could find out when he made his presence known to her.

Peter was just finishing up and Lydia turned to the young Hale. He was pacing slightly behind her and rubbing his hands together. She understood what was going through his head and made his way over to him.

“Hey, you’re up,” Derek paused and looked at her. Lydia’s eyes softened and gave his arm a small squeeze. “You’ll be ok. Just take a deep breath and walk on over there. She remembered the others, she’ll remember you,” she gave him a small smile and stepped aside for him. With that, Derek took a shaky step forward and began to walk towards her.

Stiles was talking quietly to her to calm her nerves and quieted down once he noticed the Alpha behind her. Stiles gave him a nod to go ahead.

“Hi, [Y/N],” he had placed a hand on her shoulder, but had also kneeled down behind her.

[Y/N]’s eyes widened. That voice. That one specific had taken the air out of her lungs. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she heard it. The voice didn’t have to say much more than her name for her to be able to distinguish who it belonged to.

“D-d-derek?” 

The voice let out a deep rumble before speaking again, “Yeah [Y/N/N], it’s me. You’re safe now.”

She looked at Stiles with hope in her eyes. She wanted him to help her confirm it was him. She could hear him and could feel his hand on her, but it all seemed too good to be true. But once that smile appeared on Stiles’ face the tears fell upon her cheeks and she turned to embrace the male behind her.

The motion came at Derek with such a force, he was pushed down to his bottom as he quickly wrapped his arms around her too. All the emotions he had bottled up for the past three months of not knowing her whereabouts came pouring out in that one hug towards her. He had tears in his eyes as well and hid his face in her neck as she hid hers in his chest. He took in her scent, took in her heartbeat and just focused everything onto her. Finally having her in his arms where she belonged. [Y/N] was shaking as she cried. The fear of all those months finally catching up to her. She kept mumbling apologies while Derek just held her and commenting she was safe and that they weren’t going to harm her anymore. After her tears had reduced to sniffles, she made a move to remove her head out of his chest to look at him, but Derek noticed and stopped her.

“No, don’t look. Just listen to my voice. I’m right here with you,” he soothed her. One arm was wrapped around her waist as the other brushed her hair, calming her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could look at them,” she squeezed him again. “I wish I could look at you.”

“Don’t apologize, this wasn’t your fault. All that matters is that you're here safe with us. With me,” he placed a kiss on top of her head.

After a few minutes had passed, [Y/N] had begun to doze off in the warmth of his arms. Derek glanced down at her and finally took her in fully. Her hair was all knotted and scattered across her face. Her cheeks had dark smudges with tear stains on them. Her clothes were all dirty and torn in random places. Derek was pissed at the way Kate and her men had treated and left her. He noticed her feet near his thighs as she was curled up on him. They were all scarred, scabbed and bloody. His eyes glowed red and could feel them do so. He made sure [Y/N]’s head stayed hidden in his chest in case she accidentally made eye contact with him.

“I’m going to ride with Stiles and Lydia over to Deaton’s so he could check on her. The rest should head on home,” Derek announced as he got up with [Y/N] in his arms, carrying her bridal style.

The others didn’t argue but came towards the two to bid them a goodbye before walking over to the trees to head on home. But they were all going to Derek’s loft to stay the night.

Derek walked over to the car and made himself and [Y/N] comfortable in the backseat, with her body laid out while her head laid in Derek’s lap. He had gotten a water bottle and damped a small area on the corner of the blanket to wipe away some of the dirt on her face. Shortly after, [Y/N]’s eyes fluttered open and she saw him looking out the window waiting for the other two to join him. She was able to see the scruff along his jaw, his brows creasing together and those beautiful hazel-green eyes. For the first time she was able to truly see him as him and not one of Kate’s men and fear for her life as she did with them, but as the man she had fallen in love with and felt the warmth and safety in being around him. [Y/N] noticed one of his hands on her stomach and the other in her hair. She intertwined hers with his which caused him to look down at her and noticed her eyes were focused on them.

“You have to keep your eyes closed [Y/N],” he reminded her.

“But I’ve already looked at you,” she tilted her head up towards him. “And I’m still here.”

“W-wha, but I t-tho-” [Y/N] grinned at his stammering.

“I guess it’s only when you guys’ eyes are shifted. Might need some time working up to them, but I’m ok when they’re normal.”

Derek grinned down at her and brought up her hand to his lips. “You should rest, we’ll be at Deaton’s soon.” She hummed and dozed off.

Shortly after Lydia and Stiles made it into the car and noticed the two in the backseat. Their hands intertwined and placed on [Y/N]’s stomach. Derek had his head leaned against the window with a faint smile on his face. Stiles couldn’t help it but took a quick picture of the two.

“He’s gonna kill you for that you know,” Lydia sang.

Stiles scoffed, “He’ll also thank me. Now drive.”

Lydia laughed as she drove out the clearing and towards the road.

[lenskij]

Opera ask game days 6, 7, and 8!

These are the last of them.... thank you for putting these together @opera-my-beloved. I can’t believe the Met streams are over. But thanks to them, I’ve discovered new operas, artists and composers, and most importantly: operablr & and all the amazing people here!

Any favorite weird/funny lyrics? I don’t have a particular favourtie. I’m more about the Emotion rather than the text itself.

What are some opera songs that make you lose your mind? Predictable answer: the entirety of Onegin.

Are there any Met interview moments that live rent-free in your mind? Before going into act 2 of Don Pasquale, the interviewer admired Netrebko’s costume, and then jokingly asked if Kwiecień also had pink stockings. He quickly and sternly said no - as if the idea of a hot pink stocking would hurt his masculinity! 

What's an opera production that you positively rant about for an hour and a production that you could angry rant about for an hour? Carsen’s Onegin. It’s amazing. Honestly, I looove minimalism in opera done well. I haven’t seen any Met production that would make me angry, I would at most maybe mildly complain for five minutes about the Vegas Rigoletto.

Are there any weirdly specific moments from a stream/production that you love? This one :)

Which opera production was the most visually pleasing to you? I adore the noir Un Ballo! Did I say I love minimalistic stage design? Especially in this one the sharp angles are pleasing to my eye, and the costumes, and the ball... Excellent work. Less is more, baby!

Is there any singer who changed your opinion on an opera character? Hvorostovsky’s Onegin is an Onegin I haven’t seen anywhere else. Suddenly, I understoon Onegin in the third act.

Are there any productions you wish had been filmed but are only available in audio form (or not available at all)? I haven’t had a look at Met’s audio recordings, and neither am I aware of any of their unrecorded shows. I’m a very casual Met opera enjoyer, it’s just the free streams for me.

A singer that pleasantly surprised you in a role? I first saw Peter Mattei in Le nozze (back in the day before the pandemic, and I took a free trial of the Met library), and wasn’t impressed. For some reason I decided he couldn’t do comedic roles. But then I saw him in Il barbiere - what a pleasant surprise! An excellent performance.

Any costume(s) that you would want to have? (+pictures if you have them!) Tatiana’s green velvet dress in act 3... It’s a pretty one. I’m also eyeing the count’s uniform in Il trovatore 0.0

Opera characters that are meant for each other and you will not hear otherwise? No opinion. I don’t feel that strongly for romantic pairing in opera.

Opera singer that you can't dissociate from a certain role? René Pape as Méphistophélès and Željko Lučić as Rigoletto did such a fantastic job in their roles that they are forever connected as such in my brain.

Opera you think is a complete masterpiece from first to last note? (or an opera that you know by heart?) :) Do I even need to answer that one? (It’s Onegin, of course)

Favorite conductors/conducting moments? Gergiev, the maestro! I love how he instructed the orchestra in the Onegin behind the scenes-video :) That’s where I got this blog’s title from!

A unique acting choice that you cannot stop thinking about? I can’t stop thinking about Dima in La Traviata. He made me empathise with his character, that bastard!

Battle of the productions: for an opera that was streamed in many different productions, which production do you think is the best (or do you like them all equally)? Carsen’s Onegin is way better than Warner’s. Decker’s Traviata is also much better than Mayer's. See if y’all can see a pattern here...

What's your favorite new opera you discovered because of the streams? I discovered several new Verdi favourites! Mainly, Il trovatore and Un ballo.

Are there any stream you wish you had watched but didn't? I missed a few, I especially wanted to see La Clemenza di Tito and Idomeneo.

Finally, what have the Met Nightly Streams meant to you? A way to escape reality, to stop me from doomscrolling the news for at least a couple of hours every day as lockdown started and I was worried about the world.

[areiton]

noticing

It’s meeeee, back on my Starker bullshit. With a lot of Rhodey because reasons. 

Read on AO3

~*~ 

Rhodey notices.

He notices before Tony because Tony is his best friend, is the smartest person he knows, always has been, but Tony is his best friend and Rhodey has no illusions that sometimes Tony is a dumbass.

The thing is—Peter is different. He has been since the first time he pinged on Tony’s radar. Rhodey was there, watching YouTube videos on his tablet and throwing a ball for Dum-E while Tony argued with Pepper, in the weeks before they split up again, and he showed Tony the video of Spider-man catching a bus when Tony threw himself on the couch next to Rhodey, burrowing into his side.

They watched the video a dozen times, and when Rhodey finally left, drawn away by the brass calling, Tony was still watching, entranced and mumbling to himself.

So the fascination wasn’t a surprise.

The age thing—that startled Rhodey, but he watched Tony put distance between himself and the kid, watched him worry.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, once, when Tony stared at a holo of the Iron Spider, worry heavy on his features.

“Of letting him fall,” Tony said without ever looking away.

~~~

The truth about Tony and the kid was complex and simple—they loved each other.

Before Titan and the Decimation, it was hero worship and reluctant mentorship that shifted because it was Tony and Tony didn’t know how to love halfway, and Peter wasn’t just a junior Avenger, a small time vigilante, he was family, filling up space in the workshop and building a bot that was tiny and adorable and at home with Dum-E and Butterfingers.

Before Titan and the Decimation, Tony looked at the kid and Rhodey relaxed, because that look, it was warm and affectionate, and proud, the kind of look Tony should always wear when looking at his kids, bot and AI and human.

But then—everything changed.

~~~

Tony came home, with dust on his hands and grief in his eyes and those words that Rhodey couldn’t unhear slipping off his lips.

He wondered, after, what would have happened, if Peter survived.

If Tony hadn’t been crippled by the journey home and the unrelenting grief and guilt.

He wonders if Pepper would have stayed.

It doesn’t matter—she didn’t and he was, and Peter died.

Morgan was the bright light shining through it all, the one thing that kept them tied together and—Rhodey will never say out loud, but he knows—the one thing that kept Tony alive.

~~~

It’s different.

Tony is different.

So is Peter, everyone who came back—they come back scarred.

They come back older, scarred, marked by their time away.

Peter is settled, calm in a way he wasn’t, before, and ancient in a way that scares Rhodey.

Tony—

Tony is broken by the battle, by wielding the Stones and decimating Thanos’ forces, by the months spent in a coma and the loss of his humanity, of the blank spot he wakes up to where his arm is.

“You’re alive,” Rhodey tells him, fierce and protective wrapped around him when Tony sobs into his shoulder. “You’re alive and you can fix anything you put your mind to, peacock. This is not the end of the world.”

~~~

The thing is—he’s been friends with Tony since he was in his late teens, since Tony was shy and pimply and dreaming about building an AI in the MIT basements.

He knew when Tony fell in love with Ty and when he fell in love with Sunset and he knew when he was depressed over Ana’s failing health and when his behavior tipped toward self-destructive in the months before the anniversary of the accident.

He knows Tony, knows that even before Titan, Peter was special to him, and after—

After, Peter was everything he’d ever done wrong.

It scares him, because now Peter is back, and smiling and ancient at Tony’s side and Tony is a shell of what he was, Extremis humming in his veins, and schematics for an arm displayed in front of him, and he doesn’t know how the kid can ever live up to everything Tony needs him to be.

~~~

He notices this—the way Tony watches Peter.

The way his eyes are soft, softer than they ever were with Pepper.

The way he never touches Peter, hands reaching and stalling before they can make contact.

The way he smiles, soft and fond and full when Peter rambles about MIT.

The way his gaze flicks between full pouty lips and bright bright eyes, and can’t quite look away from Peter’s ass, tight and round, in his suit.

He notices, long before Tony does.

~~~

“You deserve to be happy,” he tells Tony once, when Tony is drinking and conflicted and Peter is sleeping unaware on the couch.

Tony watches him, eyes bright and Rhodey doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t nudge him toward Peter like he wants to—he just smiles and gives them space.

~~~

They come together slow.

It’s one of the ways he knows Tony is serious. When he fell in with Stone and Sunset, it was quick, a whirlwind of drugs and drink and fucking and falling apart.

Tony, when it matters, moves slow. He danced around Potts for almost a decade, danced around Rogers for over five years.

Even with Rhodey, it took two semesters before Tony began to trust him.

Peter is the same. They’re friends now, a deep abiding thing that’s different from the hero worship before Titan or the crippling grief and guilt of the Decimation.

This is a friendship that is that of equals. Peter gets Tony in a way that few people ever have, a way that makes Rhodey breath out in relief.

Pepper tried and Tony wanted Steve to, but there was always a little bit of a disconnect—something his partners couldn’t understand.

Peter isn’t like that.

Peter understands the suit and the self-sacrifice, the demons and the towering intellect.

It’s reassuring, and relaxes Rhodey in a way he never quite expected.

~~~

When they finally do get together—neither of them say anything.

Tony doesn’t tell Rhodey.

He knows. Of course he knows—Tony is sleeping and singing in his lab and his smile is downright dopey and he touches Peter now.

But Tony doesn’t tell Rhodey.

Peter is twenty six, and it’s been years since Thanos and the Extremis that seemed to rewind the clock for Tony—but there is: Peter is twenty six and Tony Stark is on the wrong side of fifty.

He doesn’t mind, really, and does what he can to keep the rest of the team from noticing.

~~~

It doesn’t happen often, but occasionally, he catches them. 

Tony sleeping on the couch, his head in Peter’s lap, so peaceful it reminds Rhodey of when they were children at MIT. 

Peter curling bare feet and long legs around Tony’s hips, sleep soft and smiling down at him. 

The quick clutch of their hands, and the way neither of them shy away from the other--how they lean into each touch, into each other, comfortable in each other’s space. 

Peter isn’t as hesitant, more comfortable speaking up. 

Tony--Tony is healthy, his eyes bright, the dark circles under his eyes all but gone. 

They’re good for each other, and happy. 

~~~

Sometimes he thinks Natasha would have figured it out--if she had been around. She isn’t though, hasn’t been since Thanos, and it hurts to think of her. 

They keep it a secret for six months, and in the end, it’s Peter getting hurt fighting a pack of oversized rats that breaks the secret. 

No one can really deny it, when they spill into medical, and find Tony curled in Peter’s bed, lips locked, hands tender and possessive on the nape of Peter’s neck. 

He goes red, and his eyes--

His eyes dart to Rhodey of all people, wide and scared and oh. 

Oh. 

Rhodey sighs, heavy and exasperated, and leans back as the Avengers collectively loose their shit. 

~~~ 

They argue. 

It goes exactly as bad as Rhodey thinks it will, all shouting and accusations and Bucky’s metal hand flexing and earnest are you ok, did he force you bullshit. And the entire time, Tony is getting quieter and quieter, curling into himself while Peter tries to argue, getting cut off by their well-meaning team, frustrated tears in his eyes, hand impossibly tight on Tony’s where he’s clutching it like a lifeline. 

“I want this,” Peter says. 

“I love him,” he argues. 

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” he snarls. 

Tony doesn’t say anything. 

He looks--beaten. Scared. As he carefully pulls his hand away from Peter, he looks--he looks almost sick. 

“How long has this been goin’ on,” Carol demands and enough. 

Enough. 

“Six months, four days,” Rhodey says and the whole room goes still. “But they’ve been dancing around each other for years. Maybe--Peter’s freshman year at MIT, Tony? About the time he fought the Vulture again, you finally realized what what happening?” 

Tony is staring at him--the whole fucking team is, but Tony is the one who matters, is the only one who has ever mattered. 

“You knew?” Tony whispers and it’s echoed, angrily, by Hope and Kamala. 

“Course I knew. I’m his best friend--I knew before he did.” 

“Then why the hell didn’t you say something?” Hope demands. 

“Because Tony loves Peter. Tony loves him enough to risk his life to bring the kid back and half the universe with it--or have y’all forgotten that? Tony loves him, and Peter is old enough to know what he’s doing. None of us have any fucking business in that,” Rhodey says, and he’s calm, still, the anger in his voice his only tell. 

“It’s wrong,” Scott says, “Peter is--”

“Peter is a fucking adult,” Rhodey snaps. “An Avenger and the best biochemist SI has, and old enough to make his own decisions. Tony didn’t scoop up and seduce a sixteen year old, Scot. Just because you don’t approve, don’t make it wrong.” 

Peter is grinning at him and Tony looks so shocked Rhodey is a little worried so he shifts, wraps himself in his position and his rank and he orders the room clear. 

~~~

Tony finds him. 

He’s waiting for Tony to find him, in their spot, the roof where they fly most often. 

“You knew,” he says, softly. “I thought--I knew they’d be angry--but I thought--”

“You thought I wouldn’t approve,” Rhodey says, gently and Tony flushes. Looks away. 

“That kid--he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, peacock. And you love him enough to rewrite the universe. He loves you just as much. How the hell could I disapprove of that?” Rhodey asks, helplessly and fond, and Tony makes a choked, hurt noise in his throat. 

When he throws himself, sharp bones and metal limb, into Rhodey’s arms--Rhodey’s waiting to catch him. 

[emzalot]

What a Furry Ride

Chapter 13 Set in Episode 9 (last chapter in this episode)

Authors Note(PLEASE READ): Hi everyone! I know it’s been a really long 9 months hiatus...*nervous laughter* I’ve written this chapter about 8 times over, finishing it, hating it, getting distracted from the plot entirely, then forgetting all about the fic for a while- IT’S BEEN CRAZY. But, I’ve finally finished it. It’s not very long, but it’s right along with the plot and I am finally happy with it. I’ve spent 9 months HATING it! I refuse to post something I am not happy with because that just doesn’t make sense to me at all. I hope you guys enjoy it. I can’t wait to start writing chapter 14 which will start in episode 10! We’re getting closer to the finale! I love y’all so much. Thanks for sticking with me this long! MWAH 💖

Warnings: Nothing I can really think of...

~~~~

Derek stands on the front porch of what used to be his home. He leans against the post, listening to Dani’s heartbeat pounding from down in the basement she’s trapped inside. He hates that she’s caught in the middle of all this. He couldn’t help but think that if he had just stayed away, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She could be sitting in the bleachers with her family right now, living a happier, normal life, not knowing him at all.

Derek remembers the moment when he first saw Dani. It was the night of Scott’s first full moon, at the party Lydia Martin hosted. Half the school was there that night. Derek was there to keep an eye on Scott, but this overwhelming sweet scent invaded his senses, distorting his focus. He curses under his breath as he brings his fist to his nose and that’s when he saw her, the source of the sweet aroma. Perched on top of a table by the pool, her legs crossed, and her posture relaxed, leaning back on her left hand that was planted on the table and a drink in her right hand. The light reflecting from the pool danced across her face and her body giving her this soft glow.  Derek’s stomach twists into a pretzel, enthralled by the young woman sitting on top of that table, her sweet scent sinking into him.

Derek remembers the last time he saw Dani. Peter was pushing her into the back seat of his nurse’s car. He remembers how deafeningly silent that drive was. How the scent of her fear and anxiety filled the cabin of the small vehicle. The guilt twisting in his stomach was almost unbearable. Derek quietly reached back, between the door and the seat, brushing his fingers against her calf. He felt her silently grip his hand with both of her own. He immediately noticed how badly she was trembling. He brushed his thumb back and forth against her trembling fingers, trying desperately to give her some form of comfort before they reached their destination.

Derek returns to the present, staring out into the trees surrounding the house with a vacant expression. Derek inhales deeply, trying to push down every emotion and every feeling he has. He’s done it before and he can do it well, but it’s always hard on him.  If he’s going to do this, if Dani is going to survive, if Scott and Stiles are going to pull through, he must be self-controlled. All their lives depend on it, but his own life isn’t his priority. Not when it means keeping them safe. 

Peter steps out onto the porch, inhaling the chilly, February night air. It was as if the world and everything in it was right as rain to him. It made Derek sick. “I think it’s time to pay Scott a visit,” Peter says, wearing a soft smile.

~~🌻~~

Back at Beacon Hills high school, the energy is high and almost electric. The bleachers are jam packed with screaming and cheering family members and friends. The Cyclones are all jumping, whooping, hollering, congratulating one another and shouting, “State!” over and over again. They won the game. Beacon Hill’s high school’s very own lacrosse team is going to the state championships.

Scott pulls his helmet on and frantically looks around for his best friend he hasn’t seen the entire night. “Stiles!” He calls. The Cyclones come barreling off the field and into the locker room, cheering and shouting. Scott pushes his way through his teammates calling for Stiles. “Stiles. Stiles! Has anybody seen Stiles?” Scott whirls around, finding himself standing face to face with his ex-girlfriend. Scott’s mouth falls open slightly, his stomach twisting into an even tighter knot at the sight of her adorable, nervous smile.

“Uh- you were pretty awesome out there,” Allison says, nodding with a sweet smile.

“Thanks, you too,” Scott answers, immediately wanting to punch himself in the face. “I mean, that’s not what I meant-”

“No, no, I- um, did some pretty awesome cheering.” Allison smiles at Scott again. “You can thank me.”

“You did?”

“Totally. I went from, ‘Go, team, go,’ to ‘Defense, defense,’ without a breath.” Allison nods affirming what she said. “I brought my A game.”

One of Scott’s teammates interrupts them, excitedly stepping between them shouting, “State, state, state, state, state, state…” He fades off registering the look on Scott’s face that just said, ‘Drop dead, moron,’ and quickly scurries away cheering with his more enthusiastic teammates. Scott shakes his head and looks forward, finding Allison no longer where she was just a moment ago. He frowns, looking over to the doors, seeing Mr. Argent guiding his daughter back outside.

“Isn’t that just heartbreaking,” Jackson laughs mockingly, walking up to Scott. “Gosh, I bet it causes a lot of sleepless nights.” Jackson continues, “You know what though, McCall? I actually sympathize, which is why I want to make this mutually beneficial. You give me what I want, and I’ll help you get her back.”

“What?” Scott asks in disbelief.

“Well, three days makes it just in time for the Winter Formal. Uh, think about you taking her instead of me. And also think about all the things you’re able to do to get her out of some tight little dress by the end of the night. See how this could work out for everybody?”

Scott glares at Jackson as he continues.

“Three days, McCall.” Jackson whispers, patting Scott’s cheek. “Have fun,” He finishes, disappearing into the locker room.

~~🌻~~

Mr. Argent guides Allison back to the busy bleachers, his mind somewhere else entirely. He barely remembers the game even though he sat through the entire thing. He barely remembers the drive down to the school from his house if he’s honest with himself. His mind has been preoccupied on and off throughout the day about the same thing. He’s worried about Dani.

He worries about her in general with her becoming friends with Derek Hale and encountering the alpha at the school and so on. She’s caught up in a very dangerous game whether she knows it or not and he doesn’t like it. But ever since this afternoon when they talked in the backseat of his car, he’s become even more worried for her. She’s been through a lot and he hates that someone else has walked out on her now.

He cares about Dani. She’s like an older sister to Allison. He catches himself treating her like his own daughter from time to time. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. She’s important to Allison therefore she is important to him and he’s become rather fond of her. She’s been through a lot and he hopes that she knows his home is a safe place for her.

“Dad!”

Chris is jolted from his thoughts by the sharp call for him by his daughter.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Allison asks.

“No, I’m sorry,” He admits with a sigh.

“You’ve been quiet all night. Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Here-” Chris digs the car keys out of his pocket and hands them to Allison. “How about you go start the car and get it warmed up.”

“Sure, okay.”

Chris smiles at his daughter as she heads off to the parking lot. He turns his attention to the busy bleachers, scanning all the enthusiastic faces for Dani. She’s come to every lacrosse game that he could tell, so she should be here. He just wants to check on her to see how she’s doing after this afternoon.

Chris spots Dani’s mother and makes his way through the crowd.

“Hello Ms. McCall,” He greets as he reaches her, noticing the various family members taking up most of an entire section of bleachers.

“Mr. Argent, hi.” Melissa stands to greet him properly. “Oh, this is my sister Maria.” Melissa gestures to the woman standing next to her. “Maria this is Christopher Argent, Allison’s father.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” Chris says with a smile, shaking Maria’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Maria replies, returning his smile.

“Is your daughter with you? I was hoping I could talk to her.” Chris asks, turning to Melissa.

“You’re looking for her too?”

Chris frowns. “She’s not here?”

“We don’t know,” Maria says letting out a sigh.

“She’s going to be in serious trouble when I find her,” Melissa says. “I told her to be here.”

Chris lets out a sigh as well, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Probably somewhere with Derek Hale. Never mind that the police are after him.”

“Wait, Dani is hanging out with Derek Hale?” Melissa asks.

“You didn’t know they were friends…” Chris says carefully.

“No, I had no idea she was hanging around him again,” Melissa says. “I didn’t even know he was in town again until I saw his name plastered all over the news.”

“I thought it was mostly his sister she used to hang out with,” Maria says.

“Wait a minute…” Chris pauses.

The sister’s share a glance before turning to Mr. Argent.

“They’ve known each other longer?”

~~🌻~~

Most of the team stayed to shower and clean up before heading out to a celebratory team dinner at Goldie’s Diner. A lot the boys were dressed and packing their bags, getting ready to leave, when Scott walks over to his rack, a towel tied around his waist. He was one of the last of his teammates to shower.

“By the way, McCall… Apology accepted,” Danny calls from the opposite set of racks.

“I didn’t apologize,” Scott frowns.

“Every time you got the ball tonight, you passed it to me,” Danny explains, grabbing a clean shirt from his bag.

“Every time I passed the ball to you, you scored,” Scott chuckles.

Danny pulls the shirt on and slings his bookbag over his shoulder. “Apology accepted,” he says.

Danny walks out, leaving Scott alone in the locker room. Scott turns back around, grabbing his deodorant canister, shaking it up. The lights suddenly cut off and Scott pauses, frowning in confusion. Scott puts his deodorant back on the shelf of his rack and looks around the room. “Danny?” he calls. Scott is met with silence as he steps around the set of racks. Danny must’ve absentmindedly cut them off on his way out by accident.

Scott walks over to the wall and flips up the two light switches. The locker room remains dark. Scott looks up at the lights, flipping the switches a few more times; his curiosity growing with the slight touch of concern crawling around his stomach. Scott’s eye catches a ball rolling across the floor from the showers and bumping into a set of lockers with a tap. His curiosity and streak of concern growing to more mild levels as he walks toward the showers. Scotts stops in front of the ball, bending to pick it up. He frowns, turning to the side and he jumps, finding Derek standing in the middle of the open showers.

“Thank God! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what’s been going on?” Scott asks, walking towards Derek.

Derek silently averts his gaze from Scott to someone standing behind him. Scott frowns following his gaze and it meets a man, stepping out behind him. He looks older than Derek, mid to late thirties maybe, brown hear, leather jacket, button down shirt, and he’s holding a lacrosse stick. It’s Peter Hale.

“I really don’t get lacrosse,” Peter confesses.

Scott stares at Peter in shock realizing that he is the alpha , “It was you…”

“When I was in high school, we played basketball.” Peter continues, glancing over at Scott. “Now there’s a real sport.”

Scott, terribly in shock, looks back at Derek for some kind of explanation as Peter continues.

“Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes and that they played it to resolve conflict.” Peter raises the lacrosse stick, setting the bar of it on his shoulder, glancing off to the side in thought. “Do I have that right?” He whispers to himself, shaking off the thought. He lowers the stick, spinning it in his hands as he observes the net for a moment before setting the stick to the side, focusing on Scott again.

“I have a little conflict of my own to resolve, Scott. But I need your help to do it.”

“I’m not helping you kill people.” Scott says in an even, firm tone.

Peter frowns, “Well I don’t want to kill all of them. Just the responsible ones. And I that doesn’t have to include…” Peter trails off, trying to remember the name. He looks to Derek.

“Allison,” Derek finishes for him.

Scott slowly turns to face Derek. “You’re on his side?” He asks.

Derek breaks Scott’s gaze, his expression stony and vacant as he silently reminds himself that Daniella’s life is on the line if he doesn’t play his part just right.

“Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?” Scott adds.

“It was a mistake,” Derek responds coolly.

“What?!” Scott stares at Derek like he’s out of his mind.

“It happens.”

“Scott…” Peter starts, grabbing the teenager’s attention. “I think you’re getting the wrong impression of us. We really just want to help you reach your full potential.”

“By killing my friends,” Scott says, reading between the lines.

“Sometimes the people closest to you… can be the ones holding you back the most.”

“If they’re holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut job like you… I’m okay with that.”

Peter begins to step closer to Scott. Becoming nervous, Scott shifts on his feet, looking back at Derek for any shred or assurance.

“Maybe you could try and see things…” Peter trails off, holding up his right hand, his claws coming out. “From my perspective,” Peter finishes.

~~🌻~~

Stiles wakes up on a cold hard tile floor, his head throbbing. He groans bringing his hands to his face as he becomes more and more conscious. He sits up with a groan, squinting at his dim surroundings, quickly remember that he’s in the hospital morgue.

“Right…”

Stiles grips the overturned metal examination table lying next to him and pushes himself to his feet. The last thing he remembers is sitting on top of the metal table pushed against the door watching Peter Hale rush he door. Next thing he remembers is waking up just a few moments ago.

“Alpha…Dani and Derek…no, no, no-”

Stiles turns to where he last saw Derek and Dani sitting in the floor against the opposite wall. They’re gone. Did the Alpha take them? What happened here? Stiles swallows the lump forming in his throat. He has to get out of the hospital. He has to find Scott.

“The game.”

~~🌻~~

Stiles tares into the school parking lot, tires screeching as he turns into an empty parking spot. He jumps out of the Jeep and runs as fast as he can to the back entrance of the locker rooms. Stiles yanks the doors open rushing down the hallway and turning into the locker rooms, finding Scott in a towel, sitting on a bench with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Dude, we got a huge problem!” He breathes out, winded from all his running.

“You have no idea…” Scott replies with a far off look in his eyes.

Stiles puts his hands on his head struggling to catch his breath. “Something tells me you already know.”

“That Peter Hale is the alpha and Derek is on his side now? Yeah! I figured it out already!”

“Derek’s what?”

“He’s taken the alpha’s side, Stiles! We’re screwed!”

Scott drops his head into his hands. He can’t handle anything else right now. The alpha has been revealed, Derek’s switched sides, Jackson’s breathing down his neck about the bite, there is no way this situation could get worse.

“Scott…” Stiles trails off, dropping his hands to his hips.

Scott lifts his head. “What?”

Stiles shifts his weight from foot to foot. There’s no easy way to tell him this. It’s going to crush him. Hell, the thought is crushing him too. The idea of that psychotic bastard having Dani makes his curl up inside a whole and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Dani is like an older sister to Stiles. He can’t handle the thought of her getting hurt. She means too much to him. She’s his family. Maybe that’s why Derek chose the alpha’s side. Maybe it wasn’t up to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s trying to protect Dani and the only way to do that is to do whatever the alpha wants. Stiles lets out a sigh rubbing his face.

“Stiles, what is it?”

Stiles looks at his best friend with such a defeated look in his eyes. “I-” Stiles presses his lips together shaking his head. He’s not going to make it through this.

Scott stands up, walking over to Stiles with a worried frown. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles glances at him, tears forming in his eyes.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Scott asks, his own voice starting to waver in reaction to Stiles’ broken fear radiating off of him.  

“Scott, he has Dani.”

Scott’s heart almost stops. “What?”

“The alpha, he has your sister.”

Scott holds Stiles’ defeated gaze, tears forming in his own eyes, mirroring Stiles.

“No…”

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