#It was supposed to be last week but i remembered i had a lab so i rescheduled

[lightsoutmatthews]

We listen and we don´t judge - Mitch Marner

summary: you convince Mitch to do the "we listen and we don´t judge" TikTok trend

pairing: Mitch Marner x female!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, just banter and sweetness

authors notes:

I wanted to wait to post the next thing, as to not run out of stuff by next week but I remembered this exists and that it´s one of my favorite pieces so I just had to share

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

“Please baby… It´s fun, I promise!” you begged your boyfriend for the third time in probably 30 minutes. “Babe…” He sighs playfully annoyed. “Please, I know you have some stuff to say, this is your chance to say it.”

You had been trying to convince him to do the “we listen, and we don’t judge” trend from TikTok after you had been seeing it all over your for you page. Even though you usually weren’t really one to post your relationship on you TikTok.

Your account was more about “day in the life of an NHL girlfriend” or “get ready with me for my boyfriends hockey game” videos which the small following you had acquired loved, Mitch only showing up in the background occasionally, but this was something you really wanted to do with him.

“I´m bad at coming up with tings on the spot.” He tried as his next excuse. You rolled your eyes. “We both know that is not true.” A funny sounding scuff leaving his mouth, almost like he was offended by the accusation.

“How about we film it, but you can decide after if I post it?” A last attempt to convince him, not wanting to bother him with it for too long. A sigh left him again and you knew you got him on the hook. “Fine. But you have to give me five minutes to come up with a few things.”

You practically ran around the kitchen island and wrapped your arms around his neck in excitement. “You´re the best.” He rolled his eyes acting fake annoyed but placed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

He retrieved to the living room with his phone to write some stuff down while you searched for the perfect place to film. Zeus, ever the loyal dog, stayed by your side, his tail wiggling in excitement for no reason at all. “We´ve got dad wrapped around our fingers and paws, Zeusy.” The lab barked in agreement.

“I heard that.” Mitch shouted from the living room. “You were supposed to!” You shot back immediately. Laughter filling the air shortly after.

A few minutes later you followed Mitch into the living room, Zeus hot on your heels but immediately jumping next to his dad when he saw him sitting on the couch. “Oh, now I´m good enough for you.” He chuckled and softly petted the labs head.

“Are you done?” He nodded. You placed your phone against a vase you grabbed from the kitchen and put it on the living room table. “Is this angle good enough for you?” Mitch huffed, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You knew he had nothing to really truly complain about, your relationship one built on trust and open communication, when something was bothering either of you, you mostly just talked about it, but this showed you there was something up his sleeve that you didn’t know about.

“Are you ready?” He grabbed his phone, opening the notes app again. “Let´s go.”

You pressed record on the device and held back laughter when Mitch looked at you with the most serious expression. “You go first.” You said, curious about what he came up with.

“We listen and we don’t judge, sometimes when I tell you I didn’t answer your call because I didn’t see it, it´s actually because I ignored it because I didn’t want to answer it in front of the guys.” Your eyes widen in surprise, laughter immediately bubbling out of you. “How dare you.” You threw in between two breaths, still laughing.

“You´re scared to answer the phone in front of the guys, that´s so sweet, honey.” You leaned over and softly patted his cheek, knowing this clip would be sent to the girls group chat later so they could show it to their partners.

“You´re not the one getting chirped.” He mumbled which led to another fit of laughter bubbling up. “You´re acting like you´re the only person on the team with a partner.”

He rolled his eyes and waved you off. “I thought this was we listen, and we don´t judge. Let´s hear yours.”

“We listen and we don’t judge, one time I threw away one of Zeus favorite toys, because it was really past it´s living time, and told you he probably lost it.” He ripped open his eyes and grabbed his chest like he just had been shot right in the heart.

“How can you do this to our child.”

“We don’t judge, Mitchy.” He raised his eyebrows, silently accusing you of doing the exact same just a few minutes ago.

“Okay your turn again.” You rushed out before he could say anything else. “We listen and we don’t judge, you once asked me to do laundry while you were on a girls trip, and I had to call Aryne to tell me what temperature and program to use.”

“Oh my god, Mitch.” You clapped your hands over your mouth. He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “I´m giving you a crash course on our washing machine as soon as we´re finished here, I can’t believe this.” You almost shouted before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Let´s hear your next one then.” He interrupted you, not wanting to talk about this any longer. “We listen and we don’t judge.” You said, holding your hands in front of your mouth, before whispering: “Sometimes I cheer for the Flames when you´re not here.”

Mitch ripped open his mouth and turned further towards you with wide eyes. “Baby… please tell me that is a joke…” When you said nothing, he looked even more offended. “You cannot put this on the internet… what will the people say if my own girlfriend doesn’t root for the team I am playing for. That should be a punishable offence.”

“We don’t judge, remember? And what can I say, I will always be a Calgarian at heart no matter if I’m living in Toronto now. Or if my boyfriend plays for the Leafs. And it´s not like I´m rooting for them when they actually play you.”

He continued to look at you as if you had kicked his dog. “You´ll live, baby.” You said as you pat his cheek like he was a child that was upset about nothing.

“Okay, last one I could come up with in the five minutes you gave me.” He grabbed one of the decorative pillows and placed it in front of him like a shield. You raised your eyebrows at him but said nothing urging him to continue.

“We listen and we don’t judge. I use your face wash regularly and that´s why it´s always empty so much faster.” He gripped the pillow and held it in front of his face right as you swatted him in the shoulder with the back of your hand.

“Mitch, that´s expensive skincare, you can afford to buy your own.” Teasing was clear in your voice. It didn’t actually matter to you that he was using it. Especially, since most of the time he ended up being the one to pay for it. But acting fake outraged was fun. “I will go and buy you skincare for men next week when you´re on the road.”

He lowered the pillow again, hoping you were done attacking him, but you ripped it right out of his hand and smacked it into his face. The offended look on his face that waited for you when the pillow fell down on the soft carpet of your living room made you burst out in a loud belly laugh.

“You´re the worst. I´m breaking up with you.” He pouted, his voice making you laugh even harder. “Okay, it was nice knowing you. I´m taking Zeus.” You teased. Which made him pout even more.

It took you five minutes to calm down after that, whenever you remembered the look on his face you broke out in another set of giggles.

You would have to edit that out later but would keep as a memory because the pained look that slowly turned into an incredibly loving and soft glance as you kept laughing was something you wanted to keep forever.

“Okay I have one last one. When you´re done pouting.” He sat up straight, giving you his full attention again before you continued. “We listen and we don’t judge, sometimes, when you play on the West Coast, I go to bed before the game even starts because I´m so exhausted from work.”

You expected him to be fake outraged again, but he just looked at you with the sweetest expression you could imagine, you heart immediately melting. “That´s okay, honey. I know how exhausting your job can be.”

You were overwhelmed with the sweetness this man gave you sometimes. “Oh, Mitch.” You said quietly scooting closer to him to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“What? Did you expect me to be outraged about that? I know how hard you work, there´s 82 games a season that you can watch, missing one is not the end of the world.” He placed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

The tender action having you get up and startle his lap before leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. “You´re the sweetest.”

When you backed away again, remembering that the camera was still rolling in the background he grabbed your chin and pulled you down into another kiss.

“You might have to edit that out.” He brushed hair, that fell into your face while kissing, away and smiled. “So, you will let me post this?”

He chuckled. “As if I could ever say no to you.”

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cotton-glass]

vent ig

[leviraaaaaa]

“Levi!”

You barge through the door, all dramatic, gasping and panting, purposely exaggerating to get his attention. But not to your surprise, he didn’t even bother looking up.

“I suppose no one ever taught you, but there’s a concept called knocking.” He said, his eyes fully focused on the papers. His hand moving across it as he wrote. “It’s quite easy really, you raise your hand and—”

“Levi!” You cut him off, slamming the door behind you loudly. “Levi, my beloved, my savior in dark times, I am in need of your help.”

“Slamming the door isn’t very polite either. Your manners get worse everyday.”

You waved him off, shushing him. You made way across the room, where a couch sat not far from the desk he was sitting on, and flopped down face first. “Levi.” Your voice came out muffled.

“Ah yes, making yourself home I see.” He sighs.

“Levi, I need your help. Real bad.”

“No.”

“What–” You look up, raising your face from the cushions, offended. “You didn’t even–”

“No.” He repeated, eyes not leaving his work for even a second. “Please, get off my couch. Cleaning it is tiresome.”

“Levi.” You whined, impatient at his aloofness. “Levi, he’s going to kill me.”

“I’ll buy you a good coffin.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed. “I’m dead. Like literally. Absolutely. This is where it all ends.”

“I’d rather you not die on my couch.”

“Fuck your couch.” You flipped yourself, so you splayed on your back now. You tilted your head, staring at him. “Help me out. Please?”

Levi finally turns to look at you, unable to ignore you any longer. He frowned. “What?” He asked warily. “What did you do this time?”

“Promise me you’ll help me first.” You said.

“No.” He immediately rejects you. “What did you do? Did you get into a fight with an MP again?”

You shook your head.

“Blew up something in Hange’s lab?” He guessed.

“No. But I’d really rather it was Hange mad at me though.”

He looked at you confused, “Who did you piss off then? “

You grimaced. He was quick to conclude.

“Ah.” He realizes. “Erwin.”

A nod from you answers him.

“What did you do?”

“Ask me what I didn’t do.”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Work.” You sat up. “In my defense, it was a shit load of work. And I hate paperwork. And I kept procrastinating. And now it’s due by tomorrow and I didn’t remember until two minutes ago when Erwin shot a glare at me. And now I—”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Why not?” You demanded.

“It’s your fault. Don’t drag me into this shit.” He grumbles, scowling. “And you promised last time, you wouldn’t do this anymore. I’m not doing your work for you. I have enough on my plate.”

“Okay first of all, I’m not lazy. I was busy–”

“Ogling Garrison captains.”

“They’re pretty. And no, not the point, shut up.” You protested. “I was busy. And I didn’t come here so you could do it for me. I came here so you could go and talk to Erwin.”

Levi frowned, “Talk to him about what?”

“Tell him to give me one more day. Swear I’d work my ass off.”

“You said that last time too.” He pointed it out. “How angry is Erwin?”

You made a face. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“He keeps glaring at me everytime I meet him. It’s the ‘if you don’t get it done this time, you’re gonna get in so much shit’ glare. It’s creeping me out.”

Levi scoffs, shaking his head. “Only you." He said. "Only you can possibly manage piss fucking Erwin off. The guy's a fucking monk, nothing affects him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I had to guess, I’d say this isn’t the first time asking for an extension.”

“Err…” You ducked your face. “It was kinda supposed to be done 2 weeks ago.”

“2 weeks?” Levo looked at you incredulously. “No wonder he’s pissed. And you’re asking for more time?”

“One more day. Just one more day. Please Levi, he’ll listen to you.”

Levi stares at your pleading expression for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, considering. Thinking. Then he seemed to have made up his mind.

“No.”

“Wha—” You jerk upright. You really thought you’d convinced him.

“No. I’m not getting you out of the grave this time. Specially since you dug it yourself.” He returns his attention back to his work. “Good luck to you, but leave now. And learn a damn lesson.”

You stared at him, gaping. “Wow," You blinked you’re an asshole.”

“Congratulations for realizing that.”

You exhaled. Easy words won’t work, you knew. So, here comes plan A. Acting.

You pouted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said what I said.”

You fluttered your lashes, all wide shiny eyes, about to cry.

“Get out before I start throwing shit at you.”

“Levi.” Plan B. Bribing.

“No.”

“Leeviii.”

“No.”

“Levi, aren’t you the sweetest, most dearest, my absolute favorite and delightful and super awesome with extra sugar on top bestiest best friend? Don’t be like that, c’mon.”

“Still no. And we’re not friends.”

“‘I’ll make you pie?” You offered.

“You can’t cook to save your life. No.”

"I'll give you hugs."

"I will slap you."

“Levi.” Plan C. Threatening.

He glares back at you.

"You do realize you could've used this time getting the report started instead of trying to convince me and actually might've manage to get it done?”

“I’ll read poetry to you.” You threatened.

Levi looks up, finally there’s a hint of alarm on his face. “No, you won’t.”

“I’ll make sure all your food touch.”

“Get out.”

“I’ll disorganize your bookshelf and fill it with those titan x scout love novels.”

He raised his middle finger at you.

“I will start telling you about all my exes.”

He cringed visibly.

Finally, you gave up. Dragging yourself off the couch, you slowly, pathetically, miserably made your way to the door. You knew that the odds were very low that Levi would actually help you this time, because he was right. You needed to learn a lesson. And it was your fault.

“Oi.”

Your hand was on the doorknob. “What?” You turned to look at him grumpily.

Levi was pinching the bridge of his nose, knitting his eyebrows together, irritated and annoyed. Like he was about to do something he regretted.

He let out a long exhale.

“Bring it here. I’ll help you.”

“What?” You asked, disbelief dripping from your tone. Were you dreaming?

“I’ll help you out. Just this time.” He grunts. “Don’t expect it again. And I’ll only guide you, you’re doing the most of it.”

Music to your ears.

“Really?”

“Go before I change my mind.” He huffed.

You broke into a wide grin, beaming up at him. “No wonder I love you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.”

“You’re the best,”

“Shut up.”

“The best. The most darling, the loveliest, the coolest, the–”

“10 seconds. I’m giving you 10 seconds.”

“Oh–” Your eyes widened. You learnt the hard way Levi usually means his time limits. “Okay, okay, wait here, wait. I’ll be right back. Just–”

And you were out the door,

“Fucking idiot.” He groaned to himself, as you yet again, slammed the door.

He wish he knew why he kept doing this to himself.

[honeygrahambitch]

"Even Will Graham has a better sex life than I do." Jimmy said, as if he had been holding that sentence inside for too long.

Beverly and Brian abandoned the blood samples they were working on and looked at him in disbelief as if they were trying to make sure they got it right.

"One question would be how do you know that?" Brian asked. "I doubt Will is the type to talk about stuff like that."

"That's easy, haven't you seen Hannibal?" Beverly asked rolling her eyes.

"I am not particularly into men."

"You don't have to be in order to tell that someone must excel in bed. It's the attitude."

"Stop that." Jimmy interrupted their banter. "I overheard a discussion between the two of them."

"Do we really need to know?" Brian said as he looked at Beverly for support. However, her opinion was different.

"Share."

"Alright but this doesn't leave the lab. It stays between us." Jimmy said. After all, Will was his friend and he didn't have anything against Hannibal. He was usually not the one to gossip but this felt like something that needed to be debated. "They are having a threesome."

"No way." Beverly said as she elbowed Brian who remained dumb.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Brian asked.

"Why did you immediately assume it's a lady?"

"For more diversity? I don't know how these things work?"

"Can you shut up and listen?" Jimmy cut them off. "I overheard Will asking Hannibal whether their plans for the night have changed. Hannibal had said that they did not and then pulled out this business card and handed it to Will. Will was like- a sport trainer? He will be a handful."

"I told you it's a man!" Beverly told Brian then turned back to Jimmy. "That doesn't prove anything though."

"Maybe if you two listened I could get to the point. So, Will said that and Hannibal was amused and said "I am confident we can handle him. Cannot be worse than the one last week. I was not proud of the way we left his bedroom"."

"Shut up..." Brian whispered. Beverly didn't say anything, her lips parted in disbelief. "And then?"

"Then Will said...damn, I hate that I have to repeat his words but he said..."He was bigger than either of us expected. I mean, for a finance guy, he was quite a challenge. My back still hurts."" Jimmy went on. "And Hannibal was like "the one we are having tonight will definitely be in good shape. I will be there, I am not letting him touch you.""

"Christ." Beverly said. "And?"

"And Will said "As if I need you to take care of me. Remember how the one from two weeks ago surprised you from behind? You were lucky I was there." Then they noticed me because of the stupid coffee machine who started beeping. And I swear to God, their surprised expressions indicated exactly the fact that I was not supposed to hear that."

"Wow." Brian said thoughtfully. "Every week. Good for them. That's how you keep things interesting in a relationship."

"I wouldn't have believed Hannibal would share Will with anyone." Beverly commented.

"Will might have a say in that?" Jimmy suggested. "Anyway, I couldn't believe it. I was afraid I took things out of context maybe?"

"Definitely not." Beverly said. "What else could they have been talking about?"

***

"Do you think Jimmy overhead us earlier?" Will said as he looked for their knives in the trunk of the car.

"I doubt it. It doesn't prove anything. We were quite subtle." Hannibal replied as he put his scalpel in his left pocket. "Ready? He must be home by now."

"Let's go. I don't want to spend the whole night butchering this guy. By the way, what did he do?"

"Insinuated I do not take my physical health seriously."

"He just hasn't seen what's underneath that suit." Will replied, making Hannibal smile.

[signedaiko]

Hi! Could I uhhhhh,,,, request some MTMTE continuity about a gender neutral human liaison aboard the LL who struggles with social anxiety and has low self esteem, who's been isolating in their habsuite for quite a while because they convinced themselves that the bots aren't really interested in them (or straight up ignoring them). What bots (it's up to you to chose!! :D) would try to get them out of their shell and show them that they are actually well liked on board, and are actually worried about them since they haven't seen them in a while? (Also could it be possible for that request to be platonic?) Thanks a lot!!!

Brainstorm | Fort Max | Siren [MTMTE]

In which you've been isolating yourself, and they try to get you back out there.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Autobot. Platonic.

Brainstorm

What could this self-centred narcissist possibly notice about anyone else?

Turns out, he could notice the lack of their compliments, especially yours

You used to stop by at least once a day to ask him about his projects and tell him how cool they were, and he's really starting to miss that kick, even just three days without it

I mean, his schedule is slam-packed with... things... to go

But he SUPPOSES a little trip to the humans room couldn't hurt; he could work a bit of overtime today

You're not getting it sweet with him; oh no, Brainstorm is literally grabbing your whole mattress with you on it and taking you to the lab

Even if you protest and try to hide in the blankets, everyone can tell who's there

"Are they okay?' "Oh no, will they be okay?' 'Whoa, Brainstorm! Is that where the human went?'

Parading you back to his lab, you are forced to soak in every concern the others have before he plops you right back down on his desk

When you finally peek out, he's waiting for you, holding his newest invention

"Well, aren't you going to ask what I've been up to?"

Fort Max

It wasn't like him to worry too much about the others on board

But he had heard your name whispered by others, mostly in the form of concern and wonder as to where you'd gone

Something about it tugged at him, because he also missed having you check on him

It was about time he returned the favour, so even when you don't let him in, he squeezes himself into your too-small-for-him-too-big-for-you room to poke you out of bed

"Come on, human, you can't just lay there forever."

He's pulling all the lines you used on him back on you, urging you to stop whining and crawl out of the nest of blankets you'd been rotting in for a week

It's hard for him to get personal about it, but he can be strict

"You have ten minutes to get ready, or I'm taking you outside in whatever you're wearing."

Not really wanting your print pyjamas and stained graphic tee to be your reintroduction, you comply

He won't force the issue on anybody, but he will make sure to make it very obvious he's holding you so you receive every greeting possible

"Alright, Max, point taken."

Siren

It wasn't like you to avoid Swerve's so many nights in a row

And while he doesn't remember the last time the two of you spoke, probably because he was talking over you, he misses your company

He's just trying to coax you out of your room with kind words

Doesn't realize you only leave because he's literally yelling and everyone's staring

Earplugs in and noise-cancelling headphones on, you're ready to be in a room with him for even a moment

Siren uses as much of an inside voice as he can manage to ask what's up, and for once, he actually listens more than he talks

No one liking you? No way! You're the coolest! You're a whole other species worth of cool!

Encourages you to clean up and picks out an outfit for you to wear while you shower

Yes, it matches his paint job

Once you feel presentable, you're off; he's racing down halls in his alt, trying to get you to cling to him and jump you outta your shell

When you're at Swerve's, his announcement of your return is hard to miss

Everyone cheers and takes turns coming up to see you again, and Siren never leaves your side

If you feel your social battery run out, he's ready to get you home safely

Author's Note - I actually chose the bots I felt were the funniest/unlikely to try because thats the joy of life, you can do as you like in life!

I also love Siren

[roses-r-rosie3]

Prank You Very Much

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Crack, Jason & Damian being pranksters,

Summary: Jason and Damian are having a prank war and the reader gets caught in the middle of it

A/n: This is very inspired by the "Prank you very much" Episode from lab rats.

Quote: "You two have been pulling pranks on each other for three weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn't know how Jason and Damian's whole petty prank war started, nor did you want to know. But what you did know was that you were always caught in the middle of it. Like last week when you were hanging out with Jason. Jason was in the middle of playing some type of video game and you got up to use the restroom, leaving only Jason and Damian in the room.

"Hey Damian could you grab me a water, I'm trying to beat my high score, and if I stop this cyborg will melt me, and if that happens the colonial bomb will go off and if that happens-"

"I will get your water just stop talking" Damian said in annoyance.

But then Damian stopped and remembered the prank war that was still ongoing.

"I know your tricks Todd you're not going to fool me" Damian said confidently.

All of a sudden you came out of the hallway and into the kitchen area.

"Hey Jay, I was thinking I should make your family something to eat before we have to go" You said as you walked up to the fridge.

"DON'T OPEN THE-"

BAM!

(Btw I love this episode of Lab Rats sm😭❤️)

When you opened the fridge a mix of mustard, ketchup, and mayo blasted onto your face and body.

"Fridge.."

You slowly turned around in anger to give Jason the death-glare. Damian stood there, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Someone's getting put in the doghouse~" Damian whistled.

"Would it help at all if I said that was supposed to be Damian's face?" Jason laughed nervously.

"Jason Peter Todd!" you yelled.

Jason scrambled out of the room quicker than even the flash could.

"Well y/n because of this whole.. fiasco.. I would assume that you are taking my side in me and your boyfriend's little rivalry" Damian suggested.

Now it was Damian's turn to receive a death-glare from you, and he too scrambled out the room.

And a couple days ago when you were getting ready in your shared apartment with Jason. When you got out the shower and looked into the mirror your hair was hot pink.

"Jason!" You yelled.

Jason came rushing into your room and saw your hair and immediately bursted out laughing.

"This isn't funny! I had things I had to do today!" you complained.

"I'm guessing Damian put hair dye in the wrong shampoo bottle. HA! wait a minute.. how did he get into our apartment.." Jason said.

"Can this day get any worse" you whined as you picked up the blow dryer.

When you turned on the blow dryer, baby powder and glitter came flying out of it, causing Jason to laugh even harder. It took you all day to get the dye and glitter out of your hair. You finally decided that enough was enough, and that you were going to end it. You asked Alfred for a little favor and your plan was complete.

That day, Jason and Damian were walking upstairs from training, and the fresh scent of Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookies filled the air. Jason and Damian were immediately alured by the smell and went straight to the kitchen. As soon as they stepped inside, a trap was set, and little did they know, they were hanging upside down.

"Hey! What is this!" Damian yelled.

"It was me, with a bit of help from Alfred, but that's not the point" you said as you revealed yourself.

"You two have been pulling pranks on each other for 3 weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!" you said.

"He started it!" Jason said as he pointed to Damian.

"Well if you didn't dye Titus pink then-"

"Enough! I am sick of your pranks so if you don't stop, for Jason, I will burn all of your pride and prejudice books" you said as you held Jason's book in your hand.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jason gasped.

"Pffft, really you're that concerned over a book?" Damian scoffed.

"And for your Damian, I will shave off all of Alfred's hair" you said as Alfred (the cat) snuggled next to your leg.

"That's evil!" Damian yelled.

"Now, will the two of you stop your prank war? Or do I have to stick to my word?" you asked.

"Yes!"

"Deal!"

You clicked the button on your phone, and both of them were let down. After that day, both Damian and Jason learned something important. Damian learned not to get on your bad side, and Jason learned to hide his books in a safer place if he ever pissed you off.

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly has more than one breakthrough, or a couple of them actually, as some things are getting addressed. And Viktor is a cat, all the way through :')

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen + I might or might not have written Chappell Roan into this chapter lol. Reading it back after some time, I think this is still my favourite fic I've written.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Later that week, Viktor found himself in the lab, working intently on a schematic when he overheard a familiar rustling from the couch. He glanced over, catching Renly with her nose buried in the same romance novel she’d been reading the day he found her napping. The image of her in that peaceful moment—the softness of her expression as she drifted into sleep—came back to him, reminding him how much has shifted between them.

He remembered the weight of their last fight—how it had left a rawness he couldn’t shake, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to. Yet somehow, here in this shared quiet, the distance between them felt smaller, as though the edges of that wound had begun to blur. It seemed like the argument had faded into something distant, something they hadn’t properly addressed but no longer weighed as heavily.

Viktor pushed that thought aside as he caught sight of Renly, her lips quirking up slightly in amusement as she glanced up from her book.

"Still on that, I see," Viktor remarked, his voice laced with a teasing tone as he slid his glasses back up his nose. “I would have thought you’d be working on something more... productive.”

Renly looked up at him, an eyebrow arched. “You know, I was starting to think I was the only one who actually read,” she quipped before returning to her book. Her lips twitched again in amusement. “But I suppose when one is as brilliant as you, there’s no time for... distractions.”

“Distractions?” Viktor smirked, pushing himself away from the workbench and moving toward her. “Is that what you’re calling it? I always thought a good book was meant to enlighten one’s mind, not indulge in... fluff.”

Renly’s eyes sparkled as she closed the book, folding her hands over it. “Well, you might be right, but if all that’s in the air around here is Hextech and mechanical precision, I think I’m allowed to indulge once in a while,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides,” she added, with a sigh, “this is really the only place I get romance these days. No matter how hard I try to make sense of it elsewhere, it’s just—not happening.”

Viktor paused, her words catching him off guard. His gaze shifted briefly to the book, then back to her. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a little more measured. He’d expected a joke or a defensive retort, but her quiet sincerity unsettled him.

It had been easy, until now, to bury his lingering discomfort about the fight and the... brace incident. Easy to ignore how it had made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. But Renly’s tone broke through the tension lingering between them, reminding him how unresolved that moment still was. He tried not to think too hard about it.

"And what exactly do you find in these pages that’s missing from your... other pursuits?"

Renly’s eyes softened for a moment as she met his gaze, her tone suddenly less teasing. “I think... sometimes we need reminders that affection isn’t just calculated strategy or cold theory,” she said, her voice quiet. "That there’s still room for things that don’t need to be rationalized."

Viktor blinked, the unexpected weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, he was left speechless, a warmth creeping up his neck as he processed what she was implying. She was talking about him—about them, wasn’t she? The thought unsettled him, but it also felt oddly comforting. It reminded him that, despite their unspoken tensions, something continued to bind them together.

He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “I see. So the book serves as your... emotional outlet, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Renly responded with a shrug, her lips curving into a half-smile. “It’s not like I have time for anything else, you know? Sometimes a girl just needs a little fantasy.”

Viktor’s mind wandered, the quiet flicker of doubt giving way to something far less manageable. Did she see me as part of that fantasy? The question hung in the air, and his gaze lingered on Renly as she looked away, unaware of the way his thoughts had begun to shift. He couldn’t deny that his mind had a tendency to wander into unwanted territories, especially when it came to her.

There were moments when his thoughts would spiral out of his control, moments when her presence, her proximity, became an undeniable temptation.

The seemingly innocuous moment when she adjusted his brace had short-circuited his usual calm. The sensation of her touch lingered with him long after the incident, invading his thoughts when he was alone in the lab, when the hum of machinery filled the silence. It wasn’t the first time someone had touched him, but it was the first time it had felt... different. More real. Her warmth, her softness, had shaken him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Then, there was the tattoo.

Viktor had never been one to delve too deeply into the pasts of others—he had enough of his own darkness to contend with—but that tattoo had piqued his curiosity, even as it stirred something in him that he couldn’t place. He had been so focused on her words during their conversations that he hadn’t noticed the tattoo until it was too late. A swirling design on her side, delicate but bold, a hint of rebellion in the ink that caught the light just right. It wasn’t just the design, though—it was the way her skin had felt beneath his gaze, the way the tattoo seemed to carry its own weight of meaning. His thoughts had lingered there, imagining the path of the ink as it spiralled across her skin, wondering what it would be like to trace those lines with his fingers. It felt intrusive, like something that wasn’t his to touch, but still, the thought had crept in uninvited.

And then, there were moments like this—when her laugh, her teasing remarks, the way she carried herself with such effortless grace, would cause his mind to wander yet again. His fantasies weren’t those of romantic idealism—no, they were something far more raw. Fantasies of touch and connection, fleeting moments where he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to not just be around her, but to be with her, in a way that went beyond the intellectual. Fantasies that he hated having, fantasies that he pushed away every time they surfaced, but that kept coming back. Her touch. Her laughter. Her presence.

He quickly shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts, but they lingered, unbidden. The warmth in her smile, the way she tilted her head when she spoke to him, as if she saw him, truly saw him, and for once, didn’t look away. It haunted him in a way he couldn’t shake. And no matter how hard he tried to focus, no matter how many times he pushed those thoughts back into the recesses of his mind, they always seemed to resurface, much like the quiet ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“Well,” he said finally, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I suppose we all need our... distractions.”

But even as the words left his mouth, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. What exactly had she meant by that? Was she... hinting at something? The thought stayed with him as he watched her, uncertain but curious—wondering if, just maybe, there was more to these moments between them than he had allowed himself to believe.

Renly leaned back on the couch, book still resting idly on her lap, though her focus had shifted entirely. Her eyes wandered to Viktor, who had returned to his workbench. The teasing exchange they'd just had lingered in her mind, replaying in fragments. She tried to analyse it—to find the line where their banter ended, and something deeper began. Did he mean it when he said he’d thought about her emotional outlets? Or was it just another layer of the dry humour he wielded so expertly?

She frowned slightly. Viktor wasn’t someone who flirted lightly. Every word he spoke was intentional, precise—like the movements of his hands now, deftly sketching something onto the schematic in front of him. His posture was hunched but relaxed, one leg tucked under the stool while his cane leaned haphazardly against the table. She was struck, not for the first time, by how at ease he seemed in his element, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the glow of the Hextech crystals.

Her train of thought began to shift, drifting away from the conversation and into something... else. Her gaze lingered on him, not out of curiosity this time but with something more intense. There was a sharpness to Viktor, a deliberate precision to the way he moved, but beneath it, she noticed the softness he tried to hide. His hands, long and deft, moved with practiced confidence, whether gripping a tool or brushing his hair back from his face. She’d seen those hands up close when he’d adjusted a piece of equipment for her last week, and now, she kept thinking about them in a different context—how they might feel against her skin.

Her lips parted slightly at the thought, a warmth creeping into her cheeks, and she shifted on the couch, trying to redirect her focus. But her gaze kept returning to him, drawn to the way the light hit his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the determined set of his mouth.

When did I start noticing these things? she thought to herself, suddenly unnerved by how natural it felt to watch him like this. She hadn’t paid much attention before—at least, not consciously. Viktor was Viktor, the brilliant, razor-sharp mind who seemed untouchable in his focus. And yet, now, all she could see was the stray lock of hair falling across his forehead, the faint flush along his neck when the heat in the lab got to him. The way his eyes narrowed in concentration, glinting gold in the artificial light.

He was... dreamy. Why of course, she had that thought before. A thought she had quickly chased away, back when the distance between them felt like it could wrap around the earth twice over. The realization hit her like a jolt—not in a conventional way, perhaps. There was nothing polished or overly refined about him. But there was something striking, something magnetic, in the way he carried himself, the way his intellect poured into every motion, every decision he made. His presence filled the space effortlessly, as though the room itself bent to accommodate him.

Her gaze trailed lower, taking in the lean lines of his frame. He wasn’t built like someone who spent their days in a lab; there was a wiry strength to him, a quiet power that belied his otherwise bookish demeanour. She recalled the moments when they’d stood closer than they probably should have—how his voice seemed to drop an octave in those moments, how his presence seemed to expand, leaving her breathless.

She quickly tore her gaze away, a flicker of embarrassment rising in her chest. What am I doing? This wasn’t like her, to get so caught up in her thoughts about someone—especially someone like Viktor, who seemed so far removed from such frivolous things. And yet, the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Was he flirting with me earlier? The question looped in her mind. Viktor wasn’t the type to flirt—not overtly, at least—but there had been something in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on her just a second too long. Was it all in her head? Or was there something unspoken lingering between them?

“Do I have ink on me, or something?” Viktor’s voice violently ripped her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“What? No, I—” She blinked, the realization of her own words being used against her washing over her. “Oh, that’s very nice. Is this your way of saying I’ll die by my own sword one day?”

“Well, not necessarily,” Viktor replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I am merely protecting myself from your stare burning a hole in the back of my head. Is there something you want to talk about?” The joke lingered under his smile.

“Actually, Viktor, about earlier—” She paused, trying to measure if her attempt was worth it. Things had been better between them lately, but she didn’t like leaving misunderstandings to fester. She could just apologize for being so harsh with him about Singed.

“Any particular ‘earlier’? Or are we addressing everything that ever happened prior to this stimulating conversation?” Viktor turned on his chair to face her, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Oh, screw you, were the first words that tried to push themselves out of her mouth, but she decided to act like an adult. “I’m sorry about what I said, about Singed. I was quick to judge—I shouldn’t have been. I also have done things that, if I’d had a choice, I would have done differently.”

Viktor steadied himself, resting his hands, fingers entwined, on his knees. “It is fine. I am sorry about my reaction as well. It wasn’t about you; my past is something I revisit with reserve. I appreciate your apology and accept it.” His words came out more formal than he’d intended.

“Alright. I’d better get to doing something productive,” she said with a smile, pushing herself up from the couch.

***

Renly adjusted the focus on the microscope, her movements careful, almost reverent. Beneath the lens, the sample swirled with a faint, eerie shimmer, as if the cure itself carried some cruel sense of beauty. She leaned closer, her breath catching as she watched the tiny particles disintegrate. First, the infected cells broke apart, their jagged edges dissolving into nothingness. But then, the healthy cells followed—a slow, agonizing evaporation that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. Every trial ended the same way: destruction indiscriminately sweeping through, leaving behind nothing but an empty slide and a hollow ache in her chest. But today, it felt different. More personal. She couldn’t shake the thought of Viktor—his cells, his essence—being obliterated under her gaze.

Her hand hovered over the microscope, hesitating to adjust the focus again. The magnified particles seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet they carried the weight of everything she’d been working toward. How many of these trials would she need to run? How many times would she have to watch Viktor evaporate, piece by microscopic piece, before she found something that worked?

A part of her wanted to pull away, to stop looking altogether. But another part of her—the stubborn, determined part—kept her rooted in place. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. Not when he had already placed so much faith in her. Not when the stakes were so high.

The silence was interrupted by the sharp, rattling sound of Viktor’s cough echoing from the adjoining room. Renly froze mid-note, her pen hovering above the page, before she bolted to her feet. Her heart pounded as she rushed to the doorway, finding Viktor leaning heavily on his cane, one hand braced on the edge of his desk, the other clutching his chest.

“Viktor!” she called, her voice tight with urgency. She was at his side in an instant. “What do you need? Water? Medicine?”

He shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. “No… it—” Another violent cough cut him off, and she saw faint specks of blood on his palm when he lowered his hand.

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of anger bubbling beneath the surface—not at him, but at herself. She should’ve been further along by now. This shouldn’t still be happening. “You’re coughing up blood,” she said, her voice quieter but taut with frustration.

He managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well… this is not new. Though I believe…” He paused to draw a shuddering breath. “This may be your… opportunity for that sample you mentioned.”

Renly winced at his attempt to make light of the situation but quickly shook off her hesitation. “Forget the sample for now. You need to sit down.”

She guided him to a chair, her hands firm but careful. Once he was seated, she massaged his chest and back with her fists, wiping the drop of blood from his lip with her thumb. She crouched in front of him, gripping the armrests of the chair as though steadying herself. Viktor leaned back, his face pale and drawn, but the intensity in his golden eyes hadn’t dimmed.

Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against the sharp line of his cheekbone. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“Viktor…” she murmured, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Her thumb traced the curve of his jaw, her touch tentative yet unhurried, as though committing his features to memory. “You know, it’s terribly unfair for you to look this good when you’re giving me so much grief.”

Her words slipped out unfiltered, her focus entirely on him, and they startled a quiet laugh from him—a breathless, disbelieving sound that softened the tension.

“Is that your way of complimenting me?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with dry amusement.

Renly blinked, realizing what she’d said, and a faint blush crept up her neck. Still, she smiled, refusing to pull away. “I’m just stating facts. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass… It’s distracting, really. Hard to stay mad at someone who looks like they stepped out of a portrait.” She tried to deflect how much this scared her, keeping her tone light.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, though a flicker of vulnerability crossed his gaze. “And here I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But not for the reasons you think—not with you. I’m angry because I haven’t solved this yet. Because you’re still suffering, and I—” She stopped herself, her grip on his face tightening for a brief moment before she let her hand fall away. “I hate that this is happening to you.”

He hesitated, his own hand rising as if to catch hers, but it stopped just short. “Renly,” he said quietly, “this is not your fault. You are doing everything you can.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. The movement startled him, and he froze for a moment before his arms came up tentatively to return the embrace.

The hug deepened, his grip tightening as though afraid to let go. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing him in. It wasn’t like her to express herself so openly, and she could feel her pulse racing, but she didn’t care. For once, she let herself feel everything.

For Viktor, the closeness was both grounding and terrifying. He rarely allowed himself such vulnerability, and yet, holding her like this felt like an anchor in the storm of his failing body.

When they finally pulled apart, she caught his gaze and placed her hand on his cheek again, her thumb brushing lightly over his temple. “You’re not weak, Viktor,” she said softly, her voice firm and resolute. “Not in the ways that matter.”

He looked at her, something raw flickering in his eyes, and shook his head faintly. “You are… persistent,” he murmured, his tone laced with reluctant affection.

“And you’re infuriating,” she shot back, her voice breaking into a small laugh.

They lingered like that for a moment, tension between them laced with something unspoken before Viktor cleared his throat and gestured to the bloodied handkerchief. “Shall we get this over with?”

Renly nodded, her resolve hardening once more as she retrieved a sample vial. She worked carefully, silently, though her touch lingered on his hand just a moment too long before she took the sample.

When she was done, she met his gaze again, her voice quiet but steady. “I won’t stop. I’ll figure this out.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, his expression unreadable but softened by the faintest hint of a smile. “I have no doubt of that.”

***

After some tea and a bit of rest, they both returned to their abandoned work. Renly moved to her workstation in the main lab, choosing a spot where she could keep an eye on Viktor. She kept glancing over, watching for any signs of discomfort. Unfortunately, her frequent attention seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“Anyone alive in this tomb?” Jayce’s voice echoed through the silence, cutting through the stillness. “Why are you guys so quiet?”

“Why, hello, Mr. Tallis! And where, pray tell, have you been while we, your humble lab partners, slaved away relentlessly?” Renly responded without missing a beat, her tone teasing. She had already decided not to mention Viktor’s coughing fit; Viktor wouldn’t appreciate the concern being shared.

“Yes, I’m starting to think your contribution to the project will soon be reduced to just a name on the title page, Mr. Medarda,” Viktor quipped, his smirk drawing a hearty laugh from Jayce.

“Alright, alright, I surrender! But for your information, I haven’t been with Mel,” Jayce declared, grinning broadly as if anticipating their scepticism. “I’ve actually secured us some time at the fundraising gala. Got to keep this venture afloat, right?”

Renly let out an impressed whistle, while Viktor responded with a low grunt.

“You okay there?” Jayce asked, his expression softening as he placed a hand on Viktor’s back in a gesture of quiet concern.

“Yes, just a minor… inconvenience. I’ll be fine,” Viktor replied, his voice quieter now. “I’m wrapping up and heading home soon.”

The three of them eventually settled into their own corners of the lab, the scratch of pens filling the silence. Renly, as was her habit when lost in thought, began humming softly under her breath. The melody was lilting, meandering through the air like a breeze stirring dust motes.

Jayce perked up at the sound, his ears catching the tune. “Is that… The Ballad of Barrows Bay?” he asked, glancing up from his notes.

Renly shrugged; her eyes still fixed on her work. “Could be. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, now I am!” Jayce declared with exaggerated enthusiasm. He leaned back in his chair, tapped a beat on the table, and joined in with gusto, his voice deep and theatrical.

Renly’s lips quirked into a grin, and she matched his energy, the two of them harmonizing in the most haphazard way possible. Jayce’s booming voice drowned out Renly’s lighter tones at points, but their laughter wove through the song like a second melody.

At first, Viktor simply sighed, attempting to ignore the impromptu performance. He adjusted a component on his desk and turned his focus back to the schematics, but Renly’s infectious laughter tugged at the corners of his concentration. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the growing irritation gnawing at him.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was the day. The heaviness of it, the vulnerability he’d let slip twice today—more than twice if he counted the look in her eyes when she had brushed his cheek. It all churned inside him, rising with every mismatched note.

Finally, Viktor’s patience snapped.

“I believe this lab was designed for innovation,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through their chorus. “Not… whatever this is.”

Jayce’s hands froze mid-air, and Renly stopped mid-laugh, their gazes swinging to him.

“Alright, grumpy,” Jayce said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll keep it down.”

But Viktor was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “I am done for today,” he announced curtly, his cane striking the ground with more force than usual as he moved toward the door.

“Viktor, wait!” she called out, her voice sharp with surprise and a tinge of frustration. She caught up to him in the hallway, blocking his path.

He stopped, looking at her with a sharp, unreadable expression. “What is it, Renly?” His tone was colder now, clipped, and she could hear the annoyance bubbling beneath it.

Renly crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a frown. “What was that back there?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “It was just a silly song, Viktor. Why did you get so—”

“I don’t like distractions,” he snapped, cutting her off, his words sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “You’re distracting, Renly. That’s all.”

She froze, her brow furrowing as his words hit her harder than she expected. Distracting? She opened her mouth, but for a moment, she couldn’t find the right words. She’d never expected Viktor to be so blunt.

Viktor hesitated, gripping the frame of the door as if to steady himself. His voice softened, but only slightly. “This day has been…” He trailed off, shaking his head before finishing simply, “Too much.”

There was a brief, tense silence, and Renly felt her chest tighten. His words stung a little, she didn’t know why.

“Look, I just—” she started, but Viktor’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, Renly thought he might say something else to push her away.

Instead, his voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I don’t like it when you… make it hard to concentrate.” His eyes were cast down now, his face still tight with frustration. “I don’t like how you make me feel when you’re close.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. Renly stood frozen; her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he meant to say, and yet, he couldn’t take it back now. His chest tightened, and he looked up at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“You are—” he began, but he didn’t finish.

Renly swallowed, her thoughts a jumble as she processed what he’d just confessed. He’d never spoken to her like that before. It wasn’t just about the song; it wasn’t just about her distracting him from work or how difficult this day had been. It was something more.

Her tension melted away, replaced by a deep, almost confused longing. “Viktor,” she said softly, the anger from earlier slipping from her voice. “I didn’t mean to... but I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”

For a long moment, Viktor didn’t speak. The space between them was thick with tension. He took a deep breath, turning away to avoid looking her in the eye.

“Maybe you should go back to work,” he muttered, his voice rough with the emotion he hadn’t meant to show.

Renly froze, her heart sinking at the weariness in his voice.

He left before she could find the words to respond, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Renly stood there for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, before turning back to the lab. Jayce gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off and returned to her station, though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

***

Back at his apartment, Viktor let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his chair. The quiet of his space felt like a balm after the chaos of the day, but his mind refused to quiet. His gaze flickered over the desk in front of him, and his brow furrowed.

His notes.

He’d left them at the lab.

Viktor groaned softly, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to his feet. He couldn’t leave it there overnight; he meant to transcribe the remaining text today. Pulling on his coat, he stepped back into the cold night, the streets empty save for the faint echo of his cane against the cobblestones.

When he returned to the lab, he found Jayce’s coat already gone from its usual spot. Viktor sighed, relieved that Jayce had called it a night. As for Renly, he presumed she had left as well.

Yet as he stepped farther into the room, the faint sound of a melody reached him.

At first, he thought it was his imagination—just an echo of the earlier chaos lingering in his mind. But then he caught it again, softer, drifting through the still air like a whispered confession.

And then he heard her voice.

Renly sat by the microscope, the dim light casting her in shadow. Her elbows rested on the desk; her posture relaxed as if lost in her own little world. Her voice, quiet but hauntingly steady, carried through the room, wrapping around him like a thread pulling him closer.

"Do you picture me like I picture you? Am I in the frame from your point of view?"

She was completely unaware, her attention lost in the song, her eyes closed as if the weight of the words themselves carried her somewhere else.

"Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you.”

Viktor couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The way she sang—so unapologetically open, yet effortlessly composed—felt like a wound he hadn’t known existed, one he didn’t know how to protect himself from.

"Draw the blinds, light every candle. Slip off my pretty dress down my chest when I think of you."

He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. He’d heard her hum, heard her laugh, even sing out of jest. But this? This was a side of her he hadn't seen before.

"Every night, both lips on the mirror. It's ritualistic, counting lipstick stains where you should be.”

Her voice dipped, just slightly, on the words where you should be, and it struck him like a misplaced gear grinding in an otherwise perfect mechanism. There was nothing deliberate in the way she sang—no effort to perform or impress. It was raw. Effortless.

Viktor’s grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched her, as if anchoring himself there might help him weather whatever storm was unravelling inside him.

The song lingered in the air long after the last note faded, and Viktor, still rooted to the spot, finally took a breath.

Renly shifted, oblivious to his presence, and for a long, unbearable second, he stayed frozen in the doorway. He had seen many sides of her—strong, witty, sharp—but this... this side of Renly was a quiet storm. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to weather.

When the silence stretched too long, he turned on his heel, moving quietly toward the door, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He hadn’t meant to overhear, hadn’t planned on intruding on something so... intimate. But now, there was no ignoring it. He had to leave, to breathe again.

Just as he reached the door, Renly's voice floated out behind him, a soft whisper of confusion.

“Viktor?”

He paused for a split second, his back still turned to her, his hand gripping the doorframe.

Her voice came again, hesitant but searching. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, Viktor considered walking away without answering, leaving her to piece together the moment on her own. But something in her tone—the same unguarded sincerity she’d let loose in her song—held him there.

“I... nothing,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Carry on.”

He left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, but the song still lingered in his mind, winding its way through his thoughts long after he’d left the lab.

And though he never turned back, the weight of her voice—the way she sang those words—stayed with him. Something tender, something fragile, had slipped into the cracks of his armour, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sound of it.

The distraction kept Renly from immediately seeing what was in front of her. She stepped away from the microscope and lingered in the corridor for a little while longer after Viktor left. This man is impossible.

She returned to her station, adjusted the focus of the lens, and hesitated. Wait... what? She spoke aloud about her issue with the cure. Jayce, ever the brainstormer, gave her an idea using metaphors.

“What do you do during a war? You don’t just drop a bomb and step in, do you? You target.”

“Hmm… how do I make it target one thing and not the other, though?” Renly thought aloud as Jayce packed up to leave.

“Look for patterns. And then differences. I can help you tomorrow, would you like that?” Jayce offered lightly.

“Definitely,” she responded, her mind already elsewhere. “I’ll sit with it a little longer, you go ahead,” she finally told him, answering the silent question of whether he should wait for her to pack up as well.

“As you wish! But don’t stay too long,” Jayce shot her another beaming smile. “Oh, and Viktor… don’t dwell on it too much. He’ll come around.”

Holy shit. It worked. It actually worked. Jayce was indeed smarter than her. Well, now she couldn’t go anywhere.

Renly stood still for a moment, staring at the cure under the microscope, her thoughts drifting in several directions at once. Viktor's presence, his absence, his words—they all swirled inside her, mixing with the persistent problem at hand. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them today. Something... real. And it unnerved her.

And then there was Jayce, unexpectedly offering the perfect metaphor to crack the problem open, his words like a key to a door she hadn’t known was locked. She felt a small spark of hope as she revisited the idea he’d suggested, trying to see it through a new lens. The cure wasn't finished, but for the first time in days, she felt like she might actually have a breakthrough.

But that didn’t mean she was okay. She hadn’t been okay since she heard Viktor’s voice crack in their damned lab, and she certainly wasn’t okay now.

Her hand hovered over the sample vial, but her gaze lingered on the door, her thoughts circling back to Viktor. She wanted to fix this—him, the cure, everything. She wasn’t sure where her focus should lie: on her work, or on him. Maybe that was the problem. She couldn’t keep putting herself in a position where she was always one step away from making things worse.

The sound of her own heartbeat filled the silence of the lab, and for a moment, she just let herself sit with it, the quiet after Viktor’s departure stretching long.

As she sat down again, pulling the papers closer, a sudden thought hit her. Maybe there wasn’t always a right answer. Maybe she couldn’t save Viktor from himself. But she could keep trying. She would keep trying.

Her hand steadied, the pen in her grip as determined as ever.

The lab felt colder now, even with the warm light overhead. But she didn’t let it bother her. She would stay until she figured this out. After all, she had never been one to back down from a challenge.

She looked at the clock. It was late, and she knew she needed rest, but there was no room for that. Not tonight. Not when Viktor’s words still clung to her thoughts. Not when she could almost hear the weight of his silence at the door. She pushed it aside and leaned into her work.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Reverse the scenario. Sephiroth, the Soldier that is one of the strongest and most highly decorated in shinra, is degrading. He hides it from everyone. He is supposed to be strong. He isn’t supposed to show any weakness. How could a training accident lead to him slowly wasting away? He was better than this. He was built better than any of them!

How does Sephiroth handle being the only one degrading. How do Angeal and Genesis and even Zack handle finding out the truth that their silver general is sick and possibly dying.

The fic I'll never write , titled "Metamorphosis"

• Just as someone might be consumed by guilt after committing a grievous act, Genesis was quite the opposite. Initially, he refused to admit his wrongs for weeks—until relentless overthinking led him to review his actions, pushing the guilt deeper until he finally acquiesced to the possibility that he might have been wrong.

• But this wasn't the case in the training room that day. The guilt that overwhelmed Genesis as he saw Sephiroth lying there, unresponsive, with the red rapier piercing his shoulder was all-consuming. An immediate, "Oh goddess, what have I done" encased him as Angeal screamed at him to stop the simulation, watching the blood pool beneath Sephiroth.

• Angeal knew no man was unbreakable, a belief solidified by his father's death. And yet he often suspected Sephiroth was an exception; the man possessed an indescribable resilience, persisting through anything, even on the brink of death. But no one was invincible, not saints, not heroes, and certainly not Sephiroth.

• SOLDIERs gawked and stared, some even crying in concern, wanting to know what was happening as Genesis and Angeal sprinted down the hallway with him, en route to Hojo's lab—a place they would rather peel their skin off than send Sephiroth. But what choice did they have? For the first time, the red on Genesis' coat was not from the leather but from fresh blood as he carried Sephiroth, rushing into the lab.

• Naturally Hojo and his team were already waiting. Of course. Hojo was always watching, always aware of what was happening with his favorite specimen. They pried Sephiroth off Genesis—pale and unresponsive—and Angeal had to pry Genesis kicking and screaming from the doors that closed behind them.

• The last they saw of Sephiroth, his silver hair was tainted with blood, and his shoulder, bare after they ripped off the coat and pauldrons, was blackening around the mangled skin. The last thing Sephiroth remembered was Genesis charging at him full force as he miscalculated the blow. The first thing he saw upon waking was Hojo grinning down at him—an alarming contrast.

• Curiously, Hojo sent Sephiroth back to his quarters after a night of observation. The professor was giddy, excited, and Sephiroth suspected it was due to the opportunity to study how his body reacted to the new injury. Typical.

• The injury itself was severe—his shoulder was badly damaged and healing slowly. The pain left him biting back groans as he lay in bed, sweating as the pain gripped his flesh, demanding his attention with not a single distraction to mollify the suffering. It was good that Angeal had a key, or else he wouldn't have been able to let them in otherwise.

• They tried to stay and help that night, but Sephiroth was in too much pain to speak and tell them what he needed, and eventually they were asked to leave. They expected Sephiroth to rest for the next week until it healed, but he was back to work the next day, with a visible patch of bandages beneath his coat and his demeanor as stoic and unbothered as ever—or at least that’s what Sephiroth wanted them to think. In truth, he was in so much pain he could barely perform his tasks without stopping to catch his breath and addressing how his body refused to cooperate.

• He had been excused from missions until it healed, which was not a good thing for him, because if he were able-bodied, an assignment would've been the perfect distraction from the pain. His body was different, and he didn't like it. He didn't like it when things happened to his body, and even less when they were out of his control. Professor Hojo had asked to meet with him soon, and for the first time, Sephiroth welcomed the possibility that the man would've been able to do something to help.

• Angeal and Genesis tried to get close to him, and even Angeal's student once tried to ask how Sephiroth was and told him that everyone was concerned for him, but Sephiroth brushed Zack off. The same went for Genesis and Angeal. It wasn’t that he was mad at Genesis; he just had no energy to deal with his friends’ attempts to help on top of the injury.

• He worried about why it wasn't healing. He had never experienced an injury this severe, and even the invasive surgeries Hojo once performed on him were less excruciating . He didn't even know why they were concerned. Soon he would be fine; he just needed to get through this.

• But to Genesis and Angeal, it wasn't just a matter of him being fine and needing to persevere. Sephiroth was changing right before their eyes, right before everyone's eyes. Despite spending less time with people these days—he didn't want to be near them—the transformation was visible.

• It was a physical change. Sephiroth's skin, once bright and luminous, was now pallid, with faint blue veins tracing his neck and chest. His eyes were lifeless, with dark circles indicating his lack of sleep. He had grown thinner, his appetite vanishing in favor of the craving for a cure for whatever it was that plagued him.

• His hair had grown slightly brittle, a subtle change only he noticed from staring at it daily. But the most concerning change was in his eyes. They were turning red. Sephiroth wasn't vain, but even he found the change unsettling. Despite all his qualms about the unnaturalness of his body, he had been healthy before. He had been whole. And he didn't realize that had kept him sane until he lost it.

• The meeting with Hojo finally came. He was sitting in the chair in his office when Hojo threw a thick folder into his lap harshly, one titled "The Jenova Project." Sephiroth didn’t understand. He asked what his mother had to do with this, and Hojo replied, "Everything."

• According to Hojo, Jenova was the catalyst for the changes ravaging Sephiroth's body. As her son, it was inevitable that he would begin to mirror her, with the metamorphosis already happening. Sephiroth was confused. Was his mother not human?

• And so he read the file Hojo provided him with. And read. And read and read until no one saw him for a week. Genesis appeared in the labs demanding to know what happened to Sephiroth, as last anyone heard, he had been going there to see Hojo. But all anyone said was that Sephiroth was busy. Busy where, they didn’t say, and Genesis had no idea Sephiroth was holed up in the archives, reading like a man possessed.

• Until a week later.

• Rumors said that Sephiroth had been cleared for missions by Hojo, but Angeal and Genesis didn’t believe it until Sephiroth strode into the SOLDIER floor briefing room one bright morning, looking satisfied despite the physical decline which had not improved.

• He greeted them cordially as they all sat down, and Angeal asked him how he was feeling.

"I'm much better now," Sephiroth replied, his smile all teeth with not an ounce of sincerity. "I know how to cure myself now."

Genesis and Angeal were skeptical.

"How?" Genesis asked.

"My mother has the cure," Sephiroth said. "I’m going to see her in Nibelheim."

[babygirl-diaz]

Omg omg hear me out, omega tommy who ends up at the hospital after a rescue just to learn he's 5-6 weeks pregnant.

Doctor: Hi mr Kinard. I'm dr [insert last name]. I suppose you are tommy's alpha?

Buck: yeah

Doctor looking back at tommy: Well there's nothing to worry. You are both in good health.

Tommy: what do you mean both?

Doctor: you and your child!

Tommy and Buck at the same time: WHAT?

Okay, this is like super cute! I can totally imagine it. My hand slipped again and I wrote it as a little drabble!

***

Buck paced the emergency room like a caged animal. He threw Tommy an annoyed look when he heard the omega laughing.

"Baby, you keep doing that and the doctor will never come in here," Tommy told him

"I'm not doing anything," Buck huffed. "What's taking them so long?"

Buck heard Tommy sigh. He then got off the examination table and came over to Buck, taking his face between his hands. "Baby, I know you're worried but I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Buck told him. "You fainted at work, Tommy. What if you were in the middle of a flight? Wh- what would have happened then?" He shuddered at the thought.

"But I didn't!" Tommy replied. "I was safe and sound at the base."

"Then explain why you fainted?" Buck asked in an accusatory tone and pulled away from him.

"I can't explain that but that's why we're here, remember?" Tommy asked him gently. "We're gonna find out soon enough. They've done all the tests. We just need to be patient."

"Well, I can't be," Buck replied. "Not where you are involved. If they don't come here in the next 2 minutes, I'm gonna go full alpha on them!" He said flashing his eyes gold.

Tommy was unphased by that and rolled his eyes instead. "Yes, because that's gonna end well and will definitely not get us kicked out."

As soon as Tommy said that, there was a knock on the door, and soon a young woman dressed in a lab coat entered the room.

"Sorry for the wait," she apologized. "I am Dr. Deshmukh. Which one of you is Tommy?"

"That would be me," Tommy replied and went to sit down on the examination table again.

"And I take it you're Mr. Kinard's alpha?" Dr. Deshmukh asked looking at Buck.

"Yeah, Evan Buckley," Buck replied and went by Tommy's side, taking his hand. "Is he okay? What do the test results say?"

Dr. Deshmukh looked over at Tommy and said, "Well, all your test results came back negative," she added flipping through the chart. "Both of you are perfectly fine. Things like fainting are quite common at times like this-"

"What do you mean at times like these?" Buck asked, taken aback by her statement.

"What do you mean both of you?" Tommy asked and Buck realized he had missed that part.

"Uh... You and your child?" Dr. Deshmukh replied. "You do know you're 6 weeks pregnant, right?"

"WHAT?!" Buck and Tommy yelled at the same time and looked at each other.

"Ohhh... You didn't know that," Dr. Deshmukh suddenly looked very apologetic. "That was probably a horrible way to break the news to you."

Buck wanted to say "No shit" but he was freaking the fuck out and couldn't form any sentences.

"Evan, you okay?" Tommy asked and Buck felt a hand on his arm.

Buck looked over at him horrified and nodded slowly. "Y- yeah."

"Hey doc, do you mind giving us a minute?" Tommy asked Dr. Deshmukh.

"Oh yes, of course. I'll be right outside," Dr. Deshmukh replied and left.

"Evan, now tell me. Are you okay?" Tommy asked him again. "Look, I know you and I we- we never really talked about babies but- but I really want one."

"Only one?" Buck asked with a serious face but then smirked at his omega.

"Wait... You're not upset that we're having a baby?" Tommy asked and looked much more relieved.

"Of course not, silly," Buck replied. "I am ecstatic! We're having a baby!"

Tommy laughed and nodded, "Yes, we are!" He put his hands on Buck's cheeks, pulled him close, and kissed him.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

10 Seconds to Remember

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Summary: When Payback gave him to the Russian like he was only a lab rat to be tortured and tested on, it wasn’t the worst they did. They also killed the love of his life right in front of his eyes. Now that he’s back, Soldier Boy is more than ready for revenge. Everything goes according to plan until he meets you again.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4137

Warning: lots of angst, slight graphic violence, feels, memory loss

Rating: everyone

A/n: So it’s been a while, i’ve been so busy!! With Comiccon coming and my panel to write and plan, and work being hell... Anyway, this was requested by an anon, I don’t know if they are still around cause it’s been more than a year, but here you go!

It’d been a couple of weeks since he was freed, but it still felt like he was there.

Only weeks since he was freed from his personal hell, left Russia and joined The Boys.

And they had a deal. He would kill Homelander for them if they helped him find his old team that betrayed him. They put him there in the first place, they gave him to the Russians like some sort of rat they could experience on. But that wasn’t the worst Payback did.

He could still hear them. The screams. They were haunting his nights, they haunted him when he was frozen for so many years in that box, and now that he was awake… It was even worse.

He couldn’t even remember who those screams belonged to. He remembered the pain he felt when he saw it happen. He remembered the red filling his sight when the hands destroyed the only person he ever loved. He remembered the bones breaking like fragile branches.

He remembered now. The screams were his as he was forced to watch you be tortured.

You couldn’t possibly speak when it happened, not with all the blood flowing through your mouth as Black Noir hit you in the guts. You couldn’t even make a sound when Crimson Countess broke your bones one by one. All you could do was look at him and hope he wouldn't get the same faith.

It was with the last remaining forces that you did it. As life slowly got ripped apart from you, your lips parted and formed silent words. 

Close your eyes, count to ten.

That was before he was sent to Russia. His team killed you before they attacked him and placed a mask over his mouth that sent him into a deep sleep. He always thought it was to anger him that they killed you first. Because even he, Soldier Boy, was unable to think correctly under a strong wave of rage. And it worked.

Turned out, seeing the love of his life getting brutally killed in front of him was traumatizing enough to leave a mark.

Weeks had gone by and so far, Soldier Boy had managed to get revenge on the Countess and the TNT Twins. He thought it would relieve some of his pain, to kill those who took away his love and betrayed him. But the more he slaughtered and let himself go to his rage, the more anger was added inside of him. Like a boiling tornado, it kept expanding inside of his chest, burning painfully. And when it exploded…

It destroyed everything around him.

Finding Mindstorm was harder and longer than planned, so of course, Soldier Boy was getting frustrated. It was not going like he wanted. There was no time to lose there, he thought Butcher and the other nerd could help him for fuck sake. Stuck in too much anger, he decided it was enough and left the house he was supposed to stay in to wander into the city.

There were not many clothes he could wear out without attracting attention, so he had to borrow some from the bearded guy. Even then, everything ran small, so he was left with only one choice… It wasn’t too bad, but still, Soldier Boy cringed more than once at the Hawaiian shirt he had to wear as he walked through the quiet roads of the city. He was still complaining about it when he suddenly stopped dead in tracks. 

Stuck in the middle of the road, he stayed motionless. Some people complained he was blocking the path, but he didn’t move. Something here… seemed familiar. A scent, a feeling, the sight of something from the corner of his eyes…

Soldier Boy blinked. Once, twice, then closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on his lids hard enough to see colors appearing. He counted to 10 and breathed slowly. And when he opened them, it was like he was back in time.

People were walking around him, all wearing more formal clothes. Old, beautiful cars were parked on either side of the road. And to his right, a shop. There was a big bay window up front so he could easily see inside. It was filled with even older things, books, mostly. And in the middle of all that history and paper, there was you.

Soldier Boy blinked again, getting back to the present. Impatient people were complaining to him. Ugly cars took all the place on the damaged road. It wasn’t the same anymore, not after all the years he lost. Time had ruined everything, ate the vegetation, destroyed life itself. But when he turned his head to look at where you used to work…

His breath caught in his throat. It had to be a dream. Soldier Boy turned his body completely towards the shop, and without him controlling his limbs, walked inside. The bell chimed when he opened the door, announcing a new customer.

And with the brightest smile, the person behind the counter welcomed him.

“Hello! Welcome. Please, take a look around. I’m here if you have any questions!”

If he wasn’t so steady and strong, Ben would have fallen to his knees. He could feel his legs shaking as he walked closer to the counter where you were.

It was like time had no reach to the shop. It was the same as what he remembered. The outside was ruined by time and human choices, but the inside…

It felt warm. Cozy. Comfortable. The smell of old paper reigned there, it was almost overwhelming, but he knew it didn’t bother you. There were so many books on the shelves, piled on the tables and stacked in boxes that it was impossible to count them all. Behind the glass at the entrance, old newspaper, comic books, furniture and typewriters. Even the cash register was old school.

And then, there was you.

“Y/n…?”

If he had doubts this was real, Soldier Boy had the confirmation when you turned your head to the sound of your name. And when he saw what you were wearing around your neck, the last doubt left his mind.

“Yes? How do you know my name?”

Pain.

Simply.

His visions got blurred, his head spinning.

Hope pressed down heavily in his guts when you said those words. Gravity pushed down on his whole body, he felt crushed under it, like every single one of his bones were breaking, unable to support him anymore.

And inside of him, his heart was shattering in a thousand pieces.

You clearly didn’t remember him… If it was really you.

He had so many questions, so many thoughts running through his head. Doubts. He wanted to scream at you to tell the truth. What was going on? What happened? How was this possible? 

Was it really you?

But nothing.

His mouth opened, but only silence could be heard. It was the first time Soldier Boy felt inevitably weak. He felt desperately human. Ben felt powerless.

“Can I help you?” You worried, walking around the counter to stop right next to him. Green eyes followed your movements to finally dive into your gaze. God, he always loved your eyes. They were so pretty and filled with raw emotions, you could never hide how you were truly feeling. And right now, your brows slightly raised as you kept staring at him told him how worried and anxious you were. But it was when you gently placed your hand on his shoulder that he truly broke.

“You don’t remember me?” He asked and hated how his voice shook with every word he uttered.

Worry turned into confusion in your eyes. “Sorry… I get a lot of customers, even though recently I have quite a really good memory.” You shrugged and smiled. The way your lips curled up, trying to cheer him up, comfort him, it sent another painful memory in Ben’s guts. “I don’t think I saw you before. What’s your name?”

Ben slowly took a step back, even if all he wanted was to get impossibly closer to you. Take you in his arms and squeeze you until you remember him. It had to be you. There was no doubt in his mind. At first, he thought that maybe you were one of Y/n’s grandchildren and just happened to look exactly like the one he lost. But there were too many similarities. How you styled your hair was the same. The way you spoke. The little moles were even at the same spots. And your eyes. They couldn’t lie. You were an open book.

And there was the pendant around your neck.

“Ben,” he said simply. If he thought hearing his name would bring back some sense into you, another sharp pain pierced his chest when you only nodded and politely smiled. “It’s Ben, don’t you remember? Ben, Soldier Boy!” 

It had to happen one way or another. There were simply too many emotions running through him, it was bound to spiral out of control. Pain caused sadness and in sadness, Soldier Boy always turned to anger. That was the reason he avoided anything that could remind him of you. So of course, when no matter what he did, you still couldn’t remember him, he turned to anger. 

This was all a set up. And he was out of patience.

Two steps and he was right in front of you, both his hands on your shoulders. His voice raised when he spoke the next words, shaking you under his strong hold. Asking questions one after the other that would make everyone looking at the scene think he was losing his mind. 

It took only one sound from you to stop him. As quickly as anger exploded inside of him, the fire died. The smallest whimper of pain reached his ears and he was back behind the wheel. 

He was hurting you.

“Fuck, shit,” he muttered, taking a step back, immediately releasing you. Your head was down, your gaze avoiding his. But even if you were not looking at him, he knew, he could feel the pain and the tears running down your cheeks like the water was on his skin. “Hey, hey, Y/n, please, don’t cry, I- I’m sorry,” he tried to get closer again, he couldn’t let you cry, he couldn’t support it, but the moment he tried to approach you, you flinched.

“Please, leave…”

Your voice was barely a whisper. Shaking. Scared. You were so scared. Of him.

His heart broke even more. Never before did he hurt you. He could kill thousands of people in the war. Torture the enemy for information. But see you in pain? See you cry? Be the reason behind your tears?

“It’s okay, Y/n, please. It’s okay. Close your eyes.”

It got out on its own. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the right thing to say. The last thing you told him, not even with words, before you died. 

It was always a comfort for him somehow, when he felt like it was the end… When he felt like he was losing control. He closed his eyes and counted.

“What?”

He thought you wouldn’t listen to him anymore, not after what he did. But to his surprise, you were receptive to his words.

“Close your eyes. Count to 10.”

When Ben did this, it always had the same effect. When he opened his eyes after counting to 10, he remembered. Remembered your words, your face, how to breathe, and immediately felt better. Calmer. Even back in Russia, even after the torture, if he closed his eyes and counted to 10, hell seemed a bit more bearable.

Ben didn’t think you would do it. But you did, closed your eyes and counted to 10 slowly, taking a deep breath to every number you murmured.

When you opened your eyes, it was like an entirely different person was in front of him. You had the same bright beautiful eyes, but now, they were shining with something new. Something different. Something he hoped he would see the moment he saw you in the shop.

“Oh my god…”

You recognized him.

“Ben!”

It didn’t even take a second for you to jump in his arms and hug him like tomorrow would never come. You held him tight, close to you, your feet not even touching the floor, and Ben held you as tight as possible. The embrace was strong, but he controlled his strength. He refused to hurt you again.

“Thank God,” Ben muttered, half laughing half crying. It was the one and only time he would ever allow himself to cry. No tears were shed when he lost you, or all those years he got tortured. But now that he had you again, he could let himself go to his emotions. “I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you too, I-” Even if all he wanted was to keep you close to him, you stepped back to look at him. Both hands on his cheeks, you detailed his features. “You haven’t changed, haven’t aged-”

“You neither,” Ben frowned as he caressed your face as well. “Y/n… You have to tell me, is it really you? This isn’t a dream or a trick, right?” Just thinking about it had his hands clenched and you could feel him tense.

“It’s…” You smiled, tears flowing down your cheeks as well. “Quite the long story actually, I uhm…” Looking around, noticing there was no customer inside, you quickly walked to the door to lock it and turn the sign to closed. Then, you walked back to Ben, took his hand and dragged him to the back of the store to the break room where there was a couch. 

Ben sat down next to you, not letting go of your hand. “I have all the time in the world,” he said. He had to know. Now. “I thought you were dead, Y/n…”

You sighed. “I was.” Ben tensed once again so you placed your other hand on his. “They killed me. Or thought I was dead. But I wasn’t. It was Black Noir’s idea.” Like a movie was playing behind your lids, you closed your eyes and started shaking slightly. “58 minutes later, when everyone was gone, including you, he brought me to Vought to the last floor. Begged Stan Edgar to do something. Though… Black Noir wasn’t talking, something was wrong with his face. It was burnt and bleeding.” Opening your eyes, you looked at him and smiled again. “Looks like you got him good…”

“How…” Ben sniffled and tilted his head, frowning. He knew that part, he lived it. He remembered it. But with that much detail? “How do you remember so clearly…”

He watched you reach out to your necklace and held it tightly. The rest was harder to say, he could feel it. “They gave me Compound V.” You stopped for a couple of seconds to let the words go through his brain and glanced to watch his reaction. Ben was not moving, like he had doubts that was how you made it without aging. He wasn’t surprised and was waiting for you to continue. “It saved me, but I was in a coma for 10 years. When I woke up, they did a bunch of tests on me and concluded that besides not aging, I had no powers so they let me go.” At that, you chuckled sarcastically. “They were wrong.”

Ben nodded, encouraging you to continue. You removed your necklace and placed it in the palm of his hand. 

“This is…” He started as you incited him to open the pendant. A picture of you in black and white on the left side was smiling at him. On the right side, a picture of him with his suit and helmet on.

“I wandered a lot, went almost everywhere. I couldn’t stay too long at one place after all, it's kind of weird to see your neighbor not aging. But in the end, I… Finished my journey back here.” You looked at the place with a sad smile. “It was familiar, and I felt safe, so I stayed. I started to read more and more and ended up noticing something… Weird. I could clearly remember everything that I read, heard or saw. I had the perfect memory. Could learn languages in one sitting. Don’t know how to cook? No problem. Give me 20 minutes. My brain has an insane facility to learn anything… That was the power Compound V gave me.”

“But if you have a good memory, why didn’t you remember me?”

Everything you said so far made sense. The way you remembered everything so clearly. Why you haven't aged. The necklace he gave you back then, necklace you still had. But there were still so many questions left…

Sadness filled up your eyes even more and you sighed. “I have a super memory, but I have a normal brain capacity… I started forgetting more and more memories of my past. I thought it was normal, but I was only in denial. The morning I woke up and forgot you was the day I knew something was wrong.” You offered him a sad smile. “I could never forget my love…” You took back the pendant and closed it. “I went to Vought and they declared it was not their problem. Side effects of a superpower are not unknown after all, and there was nothing to do. The memories I made everyday would end up burying the oldest ones I have. After that day, I decided to wear the necklace all the time and write in a journal what I did during those days. But then, I forgot I had a journal. And I forgot you.”

Ben clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. His hatred for Vought only grew then. They gave you those powers, and when you asked for help, they shrugged it off, not our problem? Anger was building up inside of him, he could feel his insides heating up painfully, rage was overtaking him. But then, a soft touch. Warmth on his skin. Calm voice speaking words.

“Open your eyes,” you asked and he obeyed immediately. Green eyes got lost in yours as he remembered that the last thing you told him was to close his eyes. Like somehow, everything had come full circle. “You’re there now. If you stay, I won’t ever forget you.” A bright smile was now on your lips, it was so warm, all he wanted to do was snuggle against you and live through your smile. “And I sure won’t forget that ugly Hawaiian shirt,” you laughed.

God, he missed your laugh.

Ben wanted to say yes. God, he was about to say yes, stay with you here forever, but you mentioned the shirt he was wearing. Butcher’s. And the whole reason for his presence came back to him.

“I have something to do before,” he said, taking your hands in his to kiss it softly. 

Panic quickly rose on your face. “Wait, no, please, stay?” You seemed pressed, like time was running out.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I’ll be back before you notice I'm gone.” Ben smiled to reassure you and then got back on his feet. He could do it. Finish what he started, kill the remaining member of his team and then Homelander, and be back here before dinner. He could do it. 

Soldier Boy was so sure of himself when he said his goodbye, kissing you softly on the lips, that he didn’t notice the sheer terror on your face. But it was too late, he was already gone. 

-

Only 3 days had passed.

It was so short.

It happened so fast.

When he came back to the headquarters, they had found Mindstorm’s location. The fight was not easy, the skinny guy tried to save him, but at the end, Soldier Boy had his head. Then, it was Black Noir. The moment he entered the Seven’s tower, he knew something had happened. 

Black Noir was already dead.

Too bad.

Then, there was Homelander. That turned out to be harder than planned, but with Butcher’s new power and Maeve’s help, they did it. They exploded a whole floor in the process, but they got him.

Homelander was no more.

A lot happened in those three days, but for him, it happened so fast it was like he left for 3 hours. 

Once everything was settled, Soldier Boy ran back to your store. He didn’t even bother changing, he bursted through the door in full uniform, ignoring everyone staring at him and asking him for pictures and autographs. 

Scanning through the shop, he searched for you. You were not behind the counter, so he checked in every corner of the book store. Then, he headed to the back, the place where you told him everything that had happened to you. 

“Y/n!” 

As he opened the door, he knew you would be there. Turning your head towards him, you smiled.

“Y/n, I’m back, like I promised. I’m there. I did it.”

Your smile grew bigger on your lips, your eyes shining with so much light, it felt warm inside of him again.

He felt alive.

“Oh my god, is it really true?”

Soldier Boy nodded, a smile as bright as yours on his lips. “Yeah! Like I said.”

“Is it really you, you’re Soldier Boy!”

Wait.

Wait no.

No.

His smile stayed on. But inside, he was screaming.

“No, I mean yes,” he stepped closer to you, watching your face filled with joy. But even if everything told him the real reason why you were so in awe and happy to see him, he refused to believe it. “Y/n… I…Close your eyes.”

Giggling, you put your book on the couch, stood up and did as he said.

“Count to ten.”

Please.

It had to work.

Counting out loud, your smile stayed on.

“Now, open your eyes.”

It worked last time. It worked. You remembered him after all these years. Even if your memory was very bad right now, that your power was eating your past, it'd only been 3 days. 

Your beautiful eyes met his sad gaze again.

He knew without you saying a word.

There was no glint. No shine. Nothing except the excitement of meeting a hero… for the first time. And around your neck, the pendant was missing.

You even forgot to put it on.

“So, do I win something?” 

The earth itself couldn’t support his weight and he had to sit down. Ben sat down on the couch, placing his face against his hands. Trying to hide. Trying to go back in time. Now, he could see it. Could remember it. The panic you had when he told you he was leaving. You were scared, scared to forget him. 

Ben looked down. Defeated. His hands gripped his hair hard and he cursed himself. Why did he leave? Why?! Now it was too late!

As he stared at the floor, something caught his eyes. Reaching down, he cupped the object in his palm and stared.

The pendant.

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice was the same.

You were the same.

The one he lost.

The one that forgot him.

And now, it was too late.

“I saw you on TV, you’re the new leader of the Seven, right? It must be so hard working for Vought.”

Even if you didn’t remember him, you were still so kind. Considerate. You had a hero in front of you and were more concerned about his well being than a fucking picture or an autograph.

“Yeah. Working for Vought is not easy,” he replied, staring absentmindedly at the necklace.

You sat down next to him. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Having a job you don’t like really sucks. I hope that, as the new leader, you’ll be able to find yourself a reason to keep going. And maybe help a lot of people, who knows?”

To that, Soldier Boy could only nod.

“I am the new leader, yeah. And changes need to be done.”

Just like that, the hero got up and left. Something slipped from his gloved hand and fell on the floor. As you picked it up, you tried to catch up to him, but he was already gone. “Damn it,” you muttered and looked at the pendant. Curious, you opened it and looked at the two pictures inside of it. You slowly caressed the picture to the left. “It was probably very important to him… Someone he really loved.”

You kept the pendant and placed it around your neck. Maybe one day, the hero would come back and you could give it back to him.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​ @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog​ @eevvvaa​ @fictional-affairs​ @wickedinspirations​ @awkward-and-indecisive​  @peachyaliien​ @katbratsupernaturalwhore​  

Soldier Boy Taglist: @akshi8278​

[spider-man-199999]

No need to hide it pt 2

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6,4 K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Now that you two are something like an item, you find out about his secret.

a/n: very cheesy, fluffy things going on here.

Part1!

“Hi, stranger.” You said as you entered the lab, looking at a very concentrated Peter in a lab coat and glasses, looking at something on the table. 

Out of all the places you expected him to be at 10 pm on a Wednesday night, the lab was the last one. You made your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind, your head peeking over his shoulder to look at what he was doing. He had an open notebook with chemical compounds scribbles chaotically all over the pages. It wasn’t something unusual really, to have Peter stay after class so he could do extra work in the lab. He seemed to like it. It started a few weeks ago, after you passed your first exams. He told you he needed some extra time to work on a project of his and managed to persuade the professor into letting him use the lab after classes were done. You had no idea how he did that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, it was better than having to worry whether he was flirting with other girls at parties or not.

“Hi, dove.” he replied once you hugged him, still looking at the notebook and flipping the pages. 

“Did you just call me a pigeon?”

He shrugged, taking a few tubes and some chemicals from the rack. He gave the notebook one more look before he started mixing things in the tubes. 

“What are you making?” you asked, letting go of him and reading into the notebook with more concentration this time. 

The formulas he had written there were something you had never seen before, whatever this was, it was supposed to be something like a superglue that could dissolve completely after a certain period of time. You furrowed your brows, not sure you were getting the compounds and processes right. Chemistry was definitely not your strongest subject so you weren’t too confident in what you understood.

“Just experimenting.” He replied, mixing the white goo in a tube. 

“Why would you need a temporary super-glue?” you asked him, making him stop his mixing. 

“You could read that?”

“Well your handwriting sure didn’t make it easy but yeah, I can. Why?”

“Just asking.” He continued mixing until the goo was thick enough for his liking. He poured it into a container and shoved it in his backpack. 

“You’re being weird.” You told him, sitting on top of the table as you watched his movements.

He looked at you, taking the glasses off and getting closer. He stood in front of you, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, placing a peck on your lips. 

“Right, sorry. I was too concentrated to register that the most beautiful girl was in the room.” He said.

“I was waiting for you at the party.” You mumbled against his chest. 

It was true, with most of the finals being over and spring break right around the corner, the whole campus was partying. Every frat house was going at it. You definitely partied more than he did, and neither of you minded that as long as you came home to him. Most of the time you would actually text him to pick you up, which he did happily. But tonight he promised to be there for the whole night, which was a pretty rare occasion.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He asked, letting go of you.

You shrugged, looking at his worried eyes. You smiled at him, your hand resting against his upper arm, squeezing his biceps through the fabric of the lab coat and his flannel.

“Taking me to one of your boxing workouts is one of the things on my bucket list.” You teased him. 

“Okay, how does next friday sound?” he asked, kissing your cheek.

“Wait really? I was prepared to have to blackmail you and whine for 15 minutes before you said yes. I had a whole scenario.”

“Anything for you, you know that.” Peter said, taking his lab coat and hanging it back on the rack. 

The boxing was actually a white lie he told you weeks ago. He took a pretty rough beating one night, it was his first ever encounter with Kraven the Hunter as Spider-man and things didn’t go exactly to plan. He came back with a black eye, sprained wrist, and multiple bruises and cuts pretty much everywhere on his body. As the panic rushed in his brain when he saw your shocked and worried face, he had to think of something fast. That’s when it just happened, the words just left his lips like it was the most natural, most logical explanation to his state. Anything felt like a better idea than telling you about his secret identity. He hated lying, especially to someone who he grew so attached to, who he even dared to say he started loving. It was for a good cause, or at least that’s what he liked telling himself late at night when he stared out of the window, not being able to sleep because the spider mask, casually thrown on the back of his office chair, was staring back at him.

—-

He walked you back to your dorm, making sure you got home safe and you weren’t locked out like every other day. The second you were out of sight, he was googling “boxing gyms near me” and researching them as he walked home. It was a vicious circle of lying and covering up his tracks in front of you and his roommates. He didn’t want either of you knowing about his secret. It was something he had vowed to himself - to not mix the two lives together ever again. The boxing lie was convenient enough for him to keep it up, if you were to call him when he was on patrol he would just say he’s training. If he ever came back with bruises, he could blame it on a bad sparring session. It was working out perfectly. And now he just had to make it real. He already knew how to fight, obviously, and he had the needed reflexes to take on anyone on an average spar, he just needed to find a gym, go there for a week straight and get to know as many people as he could, and make it seem like he was a regular there in front of you. Sounded simple enough. 

“How do I always end up in the most ridiculous schemes?” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shared apartment, walking in, eyes still fixated on the glowing screen. No one was in the apartment, the guys were probably still at the party that Peter had managed to conveniently avoid tonight. He was too busy for them anyway, he only went because he didn’t want you to be there on your own. 

Now that he was alone in the whole superhero business, he had to figure out a way to enhance the web fluid and somehow manage to make as much of it to last him a month, preferably. He liked the formula he had originally come up with, it was simple and easy to make, but he felt like it could be improved. Him and Tony had talked about upgrading it for a long time before but never managed to get to it. He had to figure it out on his own, along with his personal life and his studying. It was starting to get a bit overwhelming. At least he wasn’t alone socially, he had a wonderful girl that shared his feelings, roommates that were like his brothers and enough acquaintances to have someone to talk to in all his classes. 

Peter threw himself on the bed, screenshotting a gym he liked enough to try out tomorrow and fell asleep, still in his clothes.

—-

It was Tuesday night the next week. Peter had been training hard in the gym, socializing, staying late in the lab. It was so hard to get a hold of him in the past few days that you felt like he was purposely avoiding you. He still hadn’t told you what he was doing so late in the lab, no matter how much you asked. You just wanted to hang around with him, watching him work. You enjoyed looking at him like that, concentrated, his brows furrowed in confusion, pacing around nervously while he was thinking, fingers going through his hair. It was entertaining but up to a point, though. And boredom had pushed you into trying experiments of your own. Since you didn’t really know what to do in particular, you opened the textbooks for your shared chemistry class and just started ahead with the material. Upside to this was that Peter was always there to help you just so you wouldn’t kill yourself by mismeasuring. Downside was that Peter was there to see you fail.

You trying to do your own work made him really happy. He always believed more in your skills than you ever did yourself and he knew that putting in extra hours would give you a massive boost in confidence. But micromanaging you along with trying to develop a new web fluid formula was stressing him out. He loved spending time with you and helping you, but constantly worrying about you accidentally burning your skin off with chemicals and him not being able to do anything about it was freaking him out.

“Babe?” He said, his weight rested on his arms he stared at you across the table. “Come over for a second, please.”

“Since when do you call me “babe”?” You asked, taking off the glasses, looking at him. Was he bulkier than before? You could see the outline of his arms through his lab coat. 

“Since now. Why are you always displeased with the pet names I call you?”

“Because you pick the funniest pet names out there, first it was pigeon, now it’s a baby.” you giggled, going around the table to get to him. He placed an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“Okay, I’ll call you my little spider then.”

“Spider? It got even worse!”

He laughed, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“Hmmmm, what do you want me to call you then?”

“I don’t know…” you said, thinking about it for a second. Your heart started pounding in your chest. You knew exactly what you wanted him to call you - his girlfriend, but you weren’t sure you had enough courage to say it. It had been months since you started “dating” but he never officially called you his. 

“Actually “babe” is fine, kind of generic but I don’t hate it.”

“Glad that’s out of the way then. Would you mind grabbing us something to drink? I’m kind of thirsty.” He asked, reaching for his back pocket and giving you his wallet. 

“You’re going to send me alone at night to get you a drink?” you asked, fake shocked to tease him.

“I’m literally sending you to the vending machine outside of the door.”

“Fair enough. What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

You nodded, heading out to the vending machine outside to get something to drink. It bought Peter just enough time to jog over to your side of the table and switch out the acid you were about to use in your work with the one you were actually supposed to use. He wasn’t sure this was the right way to go about this situation, he knew how upset you got whenever he corrected your mistakes. He also didn’t want the liquid to overflow too rapidly for you to comprehend and burn you, which was exactly what was going to happen. Once he made sure things were in order, he went back to his own notebook, flipping through the pages for the millionth time. You walked back with two iced teas, one with lemon for you and one with peaches for him. You placed the bottles next to him so he could open the two of them.

“Thank you.” He kissed your cheek, taking a sip from the iced tea. He wasn’t that thirsty really, but he had to go along with it. 

“How’s the research going?” you asked, sitting on the table with a small jump. 

“Could be better honestly.” he replied, closing the notebook and turning to you. 

You smiled at him, your hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing it softly to encourage him. He placed his opposite hand on top of yours, holding it gently as he looked at you. 

“How are you so pretty, seriously?” he asked out of the blue, making you blush with the words. 

“I’ve already told you, braces, accutane and nicely shaped eyebrows.” 

He walked up to stand in front of you, taking his gloves off. You smiled at him, your own hands wrapping around his neck. Peter kissed you, his hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer. One hand dug into his hair, the other was gently stroking the back of his neck. His lips danced with yours, making you forget about everything else around the two of you. 

“We should go home, it’s late.” He said after the kiss.

“But I haven’t finished!” You whined, your hands resting on his shoulders while he looked at you. 

Peter seemed tired, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His shoulders felt tense under your touch, his eyes had this tired gaze that lazily traced the features on your face, trying to read your expression. His hair was really messy now, which made you reach out to fix it for him. 

“Okay. Finish up and we can go rest.” 

You nodded, jumping off the table and making your way to your corner of the table. Things went surprisingly smooth with your experiment, which seemed somewhat suspicious at first but you chose to ignore it. You were too happy and proud of yourself to really question it. 

—-

You had never been to a boxing gym before. A regular one? Sure, hundreds of times, but never a one specifically designed for boxing. Everything seemed so amusing and interesting, your attention was constantly shifting from the boxing bag, to the ring, to someone doing the ropes. Your head and eyes were moving so fast you could hurt your neck. And then your eyes fell on Peter. It made you freeze on the spot, staring at him. You just had to stare. He had just walked out of the dressing room, wearing shorts and a plain black t-shirt. His hands were wrapped. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, making his way over. You gulped as you made eye contact, the blood rushing into your cheeks. You just couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like that one scene from movies in which the girl is standing on top of the stairs with a gorgeous dress on and the male lead finally realizes how in love with her he is. Except Peter was the pretty girl this time. Someone walked past you, you didn’t even notice until the person gave Peter a fist bump. The two of them shared a laugh, the other guy looking at you and nodding his head.

“I think the chick just fell in love with you.” He laughed, making Peter laugh as well. 

You snapped out of your trance, like drooling over Peter wasn’t embarrassing enough already, you had to be called out on it. Your head shot down in shame, looking at your trainers. A dumb smile was spread across Peter’s face while he looked at you fidget nervously under their gaze. He patted the other guy’s shoulder, sending him off as he finally made it over to you, pulling you in a hug. 

“How do you like it here?” he asked you as you took the opportunity to hide your flustered face in his neck.

“I’ve been here for 10 minutes and people are just now starting to make fun of me. By my standards it’s good.” you told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Peter laughed with your comment, patting the top of your head.

“I didn’t hate what he said.” He admitted.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t the one who got caught staring, he wasn’t the one humiliated by someone random. 

“Come on, I brought some extra wrist wraps for you.”

“Wait. I’m training too?”

“Well, obviously, why else did you come? To stare?”

“Actually…”

He laughed again, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest bench. He pulled the wrist wraps from his shorts’ pocket, carefully wrapping your hands in them. You observed every motion, the way the fabric was sliding along his fingers, how his hands moved. Like he had done this a million times before. Or at least it seemed that way. He hadn’t. But patching himself up after a bad fight had given him enough experience to make it seem like he was a pro. After he was done he got up, offering you his hand. You took it, letting him lead the way to a corner where the two of you could train in peace. He greeted a few people here and there, still holding your hand.

“I’m going to show you some basic moves.” He started, standing in front of you at a safe distance. “This is your guard. Your hands need to be like this at all times. It’s for protection.”

You nodded, trying to copy what he was showing you. It wasn’t too hard to do, but watching him was making it hard to fully concentrate. 

You spent a good portion of time going over the basic punches, he even gave you a pair of gloves and made you spar with him. The workout had absolutely drained your energy, 30 minutes in and you couldn’t breathe, your legs felt like they couldn’t carry you anymore. Most of your fitness was usually morning jogs a few times a week, if you weren’t too busy with studying or sleeping over at Peter’s. You weren’t completely out of shape, but “fit” was definitely not a word you would confidently describe yourself as. You sat down on a bench, Peter helping you take your gloves off. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to watch you train, not torture me.” You said as you were unwrapping your hands. Peter was drinking from his water bottle, sat next to you. He bumped his shoulder into yours, smiling. 

“Don’t you do enough Parker-watching in the lab already?”

It made you blush and turn your head away. Truthfully, you had been “Parker-watching” since you started high school and it still wasn’t enough. You started to wonder when exactly you had  transformed into this clingy little girl, drooling over him.

“Yo, Pete! Ready for a rematch? I can’t believe the way you kicked my ass last time, I’m taking you down today, tough guy.” Someone from across the room was shouting. 

Peter got up, placing one hand with a glove on your shoulder. You looked up at him, he hadn’t even sweat yet, perfect. Your head turned to look at the other guy, slightly taller than Peter, light hair and brown eyes. He was lean, wearing a black snapback, no top, black shorts. You thought he looked like the perfect visualization of a frat guy - tall, sporty and handsome, probably arrogant too. 

“You wanted to see me work out, right?”

You nodded, looking back at Peter.

“Then you have to cheer for me extra hard.”

“That’s a little bit cringe but sure, whatever gets you going…”

The guy came up to the two of you, brofisting Peter and then offering you a hand. 

“Harry, nice to meet you.”

“Y\N.” 

—

You were on your toes the whole time they fought. You stood by the ring, holding your breath whenever a punch was thrown in Peter’s direction. He was undeniably hot with the tight fitting clothes, his curls falling on his face. Being short has its advantages, he was way faster than the guy, he even avoided some punches you were absolutely certain would land, knock him out even. But your boy was like lightning on that ring, he was like a professional. Harry was sweating, running after him, very obviously trying his hardest to hit him, but he just couldn’t. It was impressive, to say the least. 

“Come on bro, I’m still warming up.” Peter teased him 15 minutes into the spar. 

“Parker, how are you even doing this?”

Peter laughed, his guard still up, he was jumping in front of him like the characters in mortal kombat did. Harry tried punching him again, Peter dodged and went for the ribs. He hit. Harry was on the floor, gasping for air.

“Oh, god, are you alright?” Peter panicked, he got on his knees next to his friend, taking his gloves off to help him. You climbed onto the ring as well, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder who was laying on the floor, his arms across his chest. You looked at Peter and he looked back, terrified. “This happens all the time, right?” you asked, as Harry curled up in a ball. “He’s okay, right?”

“Fucking show off.” Harry laughed, but the laugh hurt him even more and soon he was in agony again. 

—

“I can’t believe this happened.” You said, sitting next to Peter on the stairs in front of the ER.

You had bought an ice cream sandwich and broke it in half, giving him the half that was your favorite, his as well, but you thought he needed it more tonight.

“He’s fine, nothing is wrong with him.” You told Peter, who was blankly staring at his feet, holding the ice cream in his hand and not eating it. “They gave him an x-ray, nothing is broken, he just never took a beating before.”

“I wasn’t even going hard on him..” He mumbled. 

You were eating the sandwich, not worried about Harry at all. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Harry is completely fine, he’ll be out in a minute.” You told him, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know what is going on in that pretty head of yours, but whatever it is, I assure you it's wrong.”

He nodded at your words, finally eating from his ice cream. He didn’t know how you managed to do this, but whenever he felt like this, whenever it got really bad in his head, you managed to pull him right out. Maybe it was how cheerful you were around him, and how you made him feel like you could figure it out together. You would get anxious and worried in most situations too, but somehow you made him feel like as long as the two of you were together, you could figure it out. It always brought him back to the night you called him drunk and crying because you got locked out of your dorm room. You were a whole anxious mess, begging him to save you and once he was there you just calmed down. Like you knew he was really there to save you. Peter felt like the world’s most important hero that night, even more than the times he was Spider-man.

You rested your head on his shoulder, finishing up your piece of the ice cream sandwich. You let him sit like that in silence, which was odd to you because your memories of Peter from high school were in many ways completely opposite to him now. You couldn’t help but remember with nostalgia how open and emotionally vulnerable he was. He would openly tell and show his friends he loved them, and his ex-girlfriend too. You missed that dork, the one that would go in straight for a hug the first day he meets you, but he grew into the awkward handshake dude. Something about him now was very closed off, like there was this wall between the two of you that you didn’t dare jump over. He was still funny and charming, very communicative too, but he rarely talked about how things made him feel. He rarely even shared what was actually going on with him, why he would get so little sleep or what that damn project he’s working on is about. It was putting a lot of distance between the two of you, which you were noticing now after the initial euphoria of dating your high school crush was over. You were trying to build a foundation on top of a sinkhole with him . 

The two of you were so lost in the silence, in the train of your own thoughts, that you didn’t even hear Harry standing behind the two of you. 

“Are you communicating telepathically?” he asked, making the two of you turn. Peter had the sandwich in his mouth while he stood up, hugging his friend. You stood there by them awkwardly. 

“I’m so sorry.” Peter told Harry after he let go. 

“I’m not going to ask for a spar with you, ever again. You’re way too good at this, you should teach me!”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously.

“No, I’m not that good, I’m just short.”

“Man, you have to be professionally trained, or a monster at the gym. I've been training since I was 12, I’ve seen hundreds of opponents. No one of them have hit me this hard. And I got my jaw broken on the ring. Twice!”

At that point Harry had started walking on the sidewalk and the two of you subconsciously followed him because of the conversation. 

“And you’ve been doing it for a week? I’m not buying that, you’re lying!”

“A week?” you asked, looking at Peter confused. “He’s been doing it for months.”

“Months? This guy showed up at the gym for the first time on Saturday, it hasn’t even been a full week.”

You and Harry stopped, looking at Peter for answers. His lies caught up to him and he panicked, he panicked a lot this time. It was easier when it was just you to lie to, because there was no one who could catch him red handed. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at him with squinted eyes. He felt like a deer caught in headlights under your gaze. You had never questioned anything he said before and he was afraid you were about to start.

“He means that… It’s the first time I’ve been to his gym.” he said finally “I used to go to a different one but the guys there… were bullies to me. Remember?”

He was a ball of nerves, placing his hands in his pockets to try and hide it. Peter’s body got stiff and he was trying his best not to lose his composure but he just started blurring out a made up story to save himself. 

“You’ve never told me about anyone bullying at the gym.”

“You can’t have forgotten about that one time I came back with a black eye and all… They were just really… bad? I thought that if I got stronger and tougher they would stop but they di-” you interrupted him with a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

You knew he was uncomfortable with all of this, and it was hard for him to talk about his feelings and what he was going through. You had to reassure him this was not an attack but a safe conversation. It explained his weird behavior to an extent. He was bullied in high school too and you hoped those days were over for him. Being bullied as an adult is something completely different than the childish jokes in school, that’s why you thought part of the reason he was so closed off now. 

“It’s okay, Pete.” You mumbled. “You don’t have to talk about it, I believe you.”

He finally breathed out, hugging you back. 

“It’s okay, I’m tough. I almost broke Harry today.”

“Too soon, Parker.”

—

It was a normal Monday evening for you, late hours in the lab, the soft sizzling of something on the stove, the heavy chemical smell in the air. Your palms felt sweaty inside the rubbed gloves and the goggles you were using were recently regulated by someone with a smaller head, which resulted in an uncomfortable squeezing of your head, which was about to give you a headache soon. The only thing that was missing in this scene was Peter. In the last few days he had been coming very late to the lab dates. You didn’t think much of it really, he had told you about wanting to spend more time with his new friend - Harry. He felt incredibly guilty about the whole almost-breaking his ribs situation recently and as a compensation, Peter offered to train him. It left you with even more time on your hands, which resulted in a lot of boredom. You were so ahead on class work that there was no point in continuing, you were not trying to graduate early. The second best thing you could think of was helping Peter with his very secret project, and hiding that from him, of course. 

You spent enough hours watching him, observing the chemicals he was using, the way he was combining them and the nervous scribbling in his notebook. You read that notebook a dozen times, filled with chemical compounds, processes, results that were circled in red or scratched out. Most of the research didn’t seem like it was going smoothly for him, he had written things like “failed” all over the pages. And even with chemistry not being the strongest of your subjects, you knew that things were going wrong for him mostly because he had tunnel vision. He had written the key ingredients he was using down and most of his work was based around them - in different proportions, different ways of mixing. But none of them were giving the results he was seeking. After a good amount of time brainstorming you decided this whole thing needed a different approach. The issue was, you thought, in the key ingredients themselves. That’s how you secretly ended up developing your own version of the web fluid formula. You had been trying to use things which you had read would give similar, and preferably better, results in the experiment. For two weeks now you had been using the free time away from Peter to do just that - help him in his work. And it was going well, so well that you actually considered yourself ready by the beginning of the third week. You made sure to write everything down, following his example, so you wouldn’t forget something important. 

You took the jar that had white goo in it, softly bubbling up over the fire and mixed it up with a metal stick. The white goo had risen like dough and it was sticking to the metal as you were stirring it around. You pulled the metal stick up, the white substance all over it, stretching after it. In this exact moment the door opened and Peter barged in, almost out of breath. You head turned, looking at his messy hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was trying to calm his breathing before greeting you.

“Hello, beautiful, sorry I’m late.” He told you, throwing his bag on a chair and putting a lab coat on. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him, placing the jar down on the table. 

He seemed distracted and in a rush, like usual. You walked over to him as he was putting some gloves on so you could fix the collar on his lab coat that got flipped over. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead while you did that. 

“What have you been up to in here?”

“Actually, your work.”

“My work?” His brows furrowed in confusion, making you bite your lip before you took his hand and led him to the table. 

“Well, you’ve been silently working on this whole project for so long now, it’s been months. The one you are very sparse with the details with. But I took the time to read over you notes, plus I've seen your experiments like a million times…” you said, grabbing the jar again and lifting it up for him to see. The metal stick was still inside, you pulled it up and the white substance inside followed it, sticking to it but still moving like melted cheese. “I tried a different approach.”

He took the jar from your hands and inspected himself, playing around with it, touching it with his fingers even. 

“How even-”

“The technology I used is slightly different to yours. And the ingredients too. From what I could understand, you were trying to replicate the functionality and durability of an actual spider web… designed to suit human weight of course. With that being said, the results shouldn’t be absolutely permanent as well, like this thing, it should dissolve after some time, right?”

He nodded, listening to you with a lot of attention. 

“So… I developed this formula, the whole mixture is activated by heat, of course, but once activated it can be stored in these particular qualities, in containers for example. But it does lose these qualities over time, especially when it’s hit by direct sunlight.”

“How much time does it last?”

“Depends on the conditions but… Two to four hours from what I’ve tried.”

He was staring blankly at you, still holding the jar in the palm of his hand. He didn’t really know what to say or do, all kinds of thoughts were running around in his head. He was amazed, absolutely stunned by the way you managed to do this. Peter was also incredibly proud, he could say that much. But the fear of being exposed as Spider-man was bubbling up in his chest, his heart was beating fast, his palms were starting to sweat.

You were looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything at this point. You were starting to get anxious. Did you fuck up? Did you cross a line you were not supposed to? Was he upset with you? He never asked for your help but you did it anyway. Did you ruin the whole thing for him? The only thing you could hear at this point was the ringing in your ears. 

“You’re a genius!” He exclaimed finally, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked at the worried expression on your face. Your features softened up, a sigh of relief escaped your lips after he spoke.

“Can I look over your notes?”

“Yeah, definitely!” 

You turned around and grabbed the notebook you had been using to write down your research. He skimmed over it, flipping through the neatly written pages. 

“You’re actually brilliant!” he told you after he was done reading it, placing the notebook on the table. “I need to run a couple of tests to check for a few other things but your formula looks so much better than mine.”

“Yeah, sure, take it. I made it for you anyway.”

“Look at you, making your own web fluid formula and you were scared to even do the lab experiments during class a few months ago.”

“My own what? Web fluid?”

It had just slipped out of him. His eyes widened, all the blood left his face. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. And in reality he had seen a ghost - the ghost of his past, coming back to haunt him again. There was no coming back from this, he was caught red handed and it was his own fault. Not that he wanted it to happen, but he was tired, overwhelmed and overworked. 

It didn’t take a degree in math to put 2 and 2 together and a lot of things were starting to make sense for you now. All the time he was spending in the lab developing a “web fluid”, the random disappearing from time to time, his past Stark internship, the link between Spider-man and the Avengers. It was all adding up. 

“You’re working for Spider-man!” You finally said, like you had come to the most logical conclusion there was.

“I’m what?” He asked almost immediately. His head was a mess, trying to come up with the best possible lie to cover himself up.

“It all makes sense! He knows you from the Stark internship you did back in high school, and he asked you to develop a new formula, right?”

Peter was finding it hard to believe his ears or his luck. Of all the things he could have come up with on his own, none of them could beat the thing you just did. He was sure you would have figured it out by now, after this fatal error he made. And somehow your brain was so overcomplicating the situation so much that you couldn’t come up with the right answers. You had such blind faith in him that even for a split second you didn’t question any excuse he had given you before. He was blinking silently, looking at you. In his mind he was debating whether he should finally tell you the truth and break the most sacred oath he had taken in front of himself. Or if he should continue expanding the web of lies he had created until he himself gets caught up in it. 

“Absolutely, you got me here.”

Shallow and disgusting, he thought to himself, a bitter taste on his tongue as the words echoed in the room. He chose a lie, a dirty lie to the only person who cared for him so deeply, the person who trusted him so blindly. Would you accept him and continue loving him if you knew the truth? And the issue for him at this point wasn’t about the truth anymore, it was about the way he was treating you. His heart shattered when you smiled and hugged him. 

“I knew it! You’re so smart that the actual Avengers need you! You have so many great things ahead of you!” 

Your soft giggle felt like a direct stab to the heart. His shaky hands wrapped around your waist while you hugged him. He held you close, closer than ever before because there was an uneasy, heavy feeling in his stomach that if he let go now, he would never touch you again.

taglist:

(apologies if I missed anyone)

@zeeader @groundclueless @ivyquill @bitchyycapricorn

[muiitoloko]

Heyy!! I loved your last Eli fic so muchhh 😭 I swearr I love your fics sm 😭

Honestlyy, I'm in the mood for some angst that ends well/cuddles with Eli 😔

Sooo I mean, you can change anything really, buut something where like he had an incident in the lab or some kinda thing where he's at the hospital? idk he's kinda sad because literally no one came to visit him inventing excuses (poor baby ily) but reader (who's just a student) is actually really worried etc because she's been in love with him for a long time? soo idk I just picture her crying and everything and he's like ???why are you crying??? and idk something really fluffy and a bit angsty?🥹💗

Title: (Not) Alone

Summary: He feels alone, until he's not alone anymore.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluffy.

Author's Notes: Big thanks for tossing this request my way! Now, I'll admit, I might take a few liberties with the Eli's vibe, so apologies in advance if it's a bit off the beaten path. But hey, I'm all ears for any feedback you've got! Let's make this journey together! 🚀📝

Also read on Ao3

The soft glow of the hospital room cast a muted light over the sterile surroundings, the beeping of machines filling the air with a steady rhythm. Eli lay in the hospital bed, his expression a mask of stoicism as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

The events of the accident replayed in his mind like a broken record, the memory of the explosion haunting him like a specter in the night. He had been careless, too caught up in his work to notice the warning signs until it was too late. And now, here he was, laid up in a hospital bed with nothing but his regrets for company.

But that wasn't the worst thing—not because the physical wounds could heal, but because the emotional ones couldn't. It had been a week, a week since the accident that left Eli lying in that hospital bed, his body battered and broken. But it seemed that the real damage was to his soul.

As he lay there, staring up at the sterile ceiling, a wave of anguish washed over him. Where were they? Where were the people who were supposed to care about him, even if just a little? Deep down, he knew he didn't deserve their concern. He had been an arrogant bastard, selfish and self-absorbed, caring only about his own pursuits and pleasures. But still, the absence of anyone by his side cut deeper than any physical wound.

He didn't expect Sarah, his ex-wife, or Barkley, his son, to come visit him. They had taken the money and run, leaving him alone in more ways than one. But he had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that someone would show up. A friend, a colleague, even one of the women he had entertained himself with. Yet, it felt like no one cared about him. And the realization stung.

Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It was like being a child again, alone and isolated, ridiculed by his classmates. He remembered the sting of rejection, the ache of loneliness that gnawed at him day after day. And now, lying in that hospital bed, it felt like history was repeating itself.

He glanced around the sterile room, his gaze landing on the empty chair beside his bed. It had been vacant since the day he was admitted, a stark reminder of his solitude. He longed for someone to sit there, to hold his hand and offer words of comfort. But the chair remained empty, a silent testament to his isolation.

With a heavy sigh, Eli closed his eyes, willing the memories and the pain to fade away. But deep down, he knew that the wounds left by loneliness and abandonment would not heal easily. And as the beeping of the machines filled the air once more, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over him, drowning him in a sea of anguish and regret. The ache in his body paled in comparison to the hollow emptiness that gnawed at his soul, a relentless reminder of his own failings and shortcomings.

The memories of his past sins haunted him like ghosts in the night, each one a painful reminder of the wreckage he had left in his wake. He had been a man consumed by his own ambition, blinded by his relentless pursuit of success and recognition. And in his single-minded quest for greatness, he had trampled over anyone who dared to stand in his way, leaving a trail of broken hearts and shattered dreams in his wake.

But now, as he lay there, broken and alone, Eli couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth it. The accolades and achievements that had once seemed so important now felt hollow and meaningless, nothing more than empty symbols of his own vanity and arrogance.

And as he gazed up at the sterile ceiling above him, a sense of profound despair washed over him, threatening to consume him whole. He longed for the warmth of human connection, for someone to reach out and offer him solace in his darkest hour. But the empty chair beside his bed served as a stark reminder of his solitude, a silent testament to the depths of his loneliness.

Eli's thoughts turned to Sarah and Barkley. They had been the closest thing he had ever known to love, and yet he had driven them away with his selfishness and neglect. He had taken their presence for granted, assuming that they would always be there to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. But now, as he lay there abandoned and alone, he realized the extent of his folly.

With a sense of desperation clawing at his chest, he ripped the machines attached to him, the beeping growing louder as he tore the devices from his body. Each movement sent jolts of pain shooting through his battered form, but he paid no heed to the agony, consumed by his need to escape the suffocating grip of solitude.

Weak and injured, Eli struggled to get up from the bed, his muscles protesting with every movement. The laboratory explosion had left him with burns and cuts, the wounds decorating his body like battle scars of his own making. He leaned heavily on an IV pole for support, the metal digging into his palm as he tried to steady himself.

Lines of anguish etched deep into his features, Eli's baritone voice echoed through the sterile room, a haunting melody of despair and regret. "Damn it all," he muttered through gritted teeth, his words laced with bitterness and self-loathing. "I can't stay here. I won't."

With a shaky breath, Eli pushed himself forward, each step a testament to his stubborn determination to break free from the shackles of his own making. But his body rebelled against his efforts, weakened by the trauma it had endured. Every movement was a battle, every breath a struggle as he fought to overcome the physical and emotional pain that threatened to consume him whole.

And yet, despite the odds stacked against him, Eli pressed on, driven by a fierce resolve to reclaim his freedom, no matter the cost. With each agonizing step, he felt the weight of his loneliness bearing down on him like a heavy burden, threatening to crush him beneath its suffocating embrace.

Memories of his childhood flashed before his eyes, a bittersweet reminder of a time when he had known the warmth of his mother's embrace, the comforting touch of her hand as she tended to his wounds and chased away his fears. But now, she was gone, a distant memory lost to the passage of time, leaving Eli adrift in a sea of emptiness.

With a bitter twist of irony, Eli realized that he had become the very thing he despised most—a lonely, pathetic figure yearning for the companionship he had once taken for granted. He had closed himself off to the world, erecting walls of arrogance and self-importance to shield himself from the pain of rejection and abandonment. But now, as he lay broken and alone, those walls crumbled around him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to the harsh realities of his existence.

As he stumbled down the hallway, ignoring the nurse's futile attempts to stop him, Eli felt the weight of his own inadequacy bearing down on him like a crushing weight. His body was weak, his spirit shattered, and with each passing moment, he sank deeper into the abyss of his own despair.

And then, just when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer, Eli's legs gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground in a pathetic heap of limbs and shattered pride. He lay there, sprawled out on the cold tile floor, a broken shell of the man he had once been, his baritone voice choked with anguish as he whispered words of self-condemnation into the empty void.

"I'm pathetic," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he gazed up at the sterile ceiling above him. "A Nobel Prize winner, revered by the world, and yet... I'm nothing but a lonely, pathetic bastard."

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality of his existence. He had spent a lifetime chasing after success and recognition, believing that they held the key to happiness and fulfillment. But now, as he lay broken and alone, he realized that he had been chasing after shadows, grasping at empty promises that had crumbled to dust in his hands.

And as the nurse knelt beside him, her voice a soothing murmur in the darkness, Eli closed his eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair that threatened to consume him whole. He knew that he was a broken man, irreparably damaged by the choices he had made and the paths he had chosen. But deep down, beneath the layers of arrogance and self-delusion, all he wanted was to be whole again, to feel the warmth of human connection and the healing touch of love.

But for Eli Michaelson, the road to redemption would be long and arduous, fraught with pitfalls and obstacles at every turn. And as he lay there, battered and broken, he knew that the journey had only just begun.

The next morning, Eli sat in silence, the dull glow of the TV flickering in the dimly lit hospital room. He picked at the unappetizing hospital food on his tray, his appetite dulled by the weight of loneliness that hung heavy in the air. He tried to convince himself that solitude was preferable, that he didn't need anyone else. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the ache in his chest, the longing for human connection that gnawed at his soul.

As he stared blankly at the screen, lost in his thoughts, the sudden forceful opening of the door startled him out of his reverie. The door slammed against the wall with a loud thud, causing Eli to turn his head towards the entrance, his curiosity piqued.

There, standing in the doorway, was a young woman, her cheeks stained with tears as she cried. Before Eli could comprehend what was happening, she ran towards him and enveloped him in a tight hug, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Confusion washed over Eli as he awkwardly patted the young woman's back, unsure of what to do. "Uh, what's going on?" he muttered, his voice gruff with disorientation.

Pulling away from the embrace, the young woman looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. "Professor Michaelson, I was so worried about you," she exclaimed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought you had gone on vacation, that's why you were away from campus. But I didn't realize you were in the hospital. If I had known, I would have come sooner."

Eli's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to place the young woman's face. Who was she, and why was she so upset about him? Pushing her hands away gently, he questioned, "Who the hell are you?"

The young woman's tears halted abruptly, replaced by a look of embarrassment as she wiped at her cheeks. "Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice small. "I'm one of your students at the university. I always sit in the front row. It's me, [Your Name]."

Eli racked his brain, trying to recall any memory of a student named [Your Name]. But the truth was, he didn't bother to remember the names of his students, unless they were the most beautiful women in his classes. And while [Your Name] was certainly adorable in her own right, she didn't fit the bill of his usual conquests.

Nevertheless, Eli put on a facade of recognition, offering a faint smile as he nodded. "Ah, yes, [Your Name]," he said, his tone somewhat forced. "Of course, I remember you now. It's good to see you."

As Eli's gaze met yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness at the recognition, however brief it may be. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue in that deep, baritone voice sent a shiver down your spine, making you blush slightly at the attention.

But before you could bask in the moment, Eli's question brought you back to reality with a jolt. "Did everyone come to see me?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced towards the door, as if expecting a flood of visitors at any moment.

You shook your head gently, your heart sinking at the disappointment in his eyes. "No, Professor Michaelson," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I was the only one who came."

Eli visibly deflated at your words, a sense of desolation washing over him as he processed the information. "Oh," he murmured, his voice heavy with disappointment. "No one else came."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man lying before you, so vulnerable and alone. And as you stood next to Eli's hospital bed, awkwardly rubbing your arm, you felt a pang of sympathy for him. He seemed so vulnerable in that moment, his usual air of confidence replaced by a palpable sense of loneliness. You glanced down at your feet, unsure of what to say or do to comfort him.

Suddenly, Eli's voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Where are the flowers?" he asked, his tone tinged with confusion.

You looked up at him, puzzled. "Huh?" you replied, furrowing your brow in confusion.

Eli insisted, his tone growing more urgent. "The flowers, the balloons, you know, all those things people bring when they visit someone in the hospital."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you stuttered apologetically, "Oh, I... I was so worried, I didn't even think about it."

Eli's arrogant smile softened at your words, his expression betraying a hint of curiosity. "You were worried? About me?" he asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

You shifted nervously on your feet, feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze. "Um, yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, I know we don't really know each other that well, but... I guess I just didn't want you to feel alone."

You felt a rush of embarrassment wash over you. You couldn't help but feel pathetic standing there in front of your crush, blushing furiously as you struggled to find the right words to say. Deciding to make a hasty retreat, you turned around, mumbling something about leaving. But before you could take a step, Eli practically shouted, "Wait!"

Startled, you turned back to face him, surprise written across your features. "I mean... wait," Eli amended, his tone softer this time. "I... I don't actually mind having company. I've been getting bored of watching TV all day."

Relief flooded through you as you realized that Eli didn't want you to leave. With a shy smile, you nodded and took a seat in the empty chair beside his bed, grateful for the opportunity to keep him company during his time of need.

And as you settled into the chair beside Eli's hospital bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness that hung in the air between the two of you. The conversation was stilted at first, filled with hesitant pauses and forced smiles as you struggled to find common ground. But as the minutes passed, you found yourselves falling into an easy rhythm, chatting about anything and everything under the sun.

"So, I heard Professor Hart is filling in for you," you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic of Eli's hospitalization. "He seems... interesting."

Eli chuckled softly at your remark, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Interesting is one way to describe him," he replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "But I suppose he'll do in a pinch."

You nodded in agreement, relieved that Eli seemed willing to engage in conversation despite the circumstances. "Yeah, I heard he's a bit eccentric," you remarked, trying to keep the conversation light. "But hey, at least he keeps things entertaining."

Eli's lips twitched into a wry smile at your comment, his gaze drifting towards the TV screen as if seeking refuge from the awkwardness of the moment. "Entertaining is one way to put it," he mused, his tone tinged with amusement. "But I suppose we'll survive until I'm back on my feet."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Eli's dry sense of humor, grateful for the brief moment of levity amidst the somber atmosphere of the hospital room. "Oh, I'm sure we'll manage," you quipped, a playful glint in your eye. "But I have to admit, I do miss your classes. Chemistry just isn't the same without you."

Eli's expression softened at your words, a hint of genuine warmth shining through his usually stoic demeanor. "Well, I'm flattered to hear that," he replied, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Chemistry is my passion, after all. It's nice to know that someone appreciates my efforts."

You blushed at the unexpected praise, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your cheeks. "Well, I've always enjoyed your classes," you admitted, unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Chemistry has always been my favorite subject."

Eli's eyes sparkled with amusement at your confession, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?" he teased, his tone laced with playful curiosity. "Well, I suppose I'll have to make sure to put on a good show when I return, then."

You laughed at Eli's playful banter, grateful for the distraction it provided from the seriousness of the situation. But as the conversation turned back to Eli's accident, you couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for him.

"So, how exactly did the accident happen?" you asked, your voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Was it some sort of experiment gone wrong?"

Eli waved off your question dismissively, as if it were of little consequence. "Oh, nothing too dramatic," he replied nonchalantly. "Just a minor mishap in the lab. These things happen from time to time."

You raised an eyebrow skeptically at Eli's casual response, unable to shake the feeling that he was downplaying the severity of the situation. "Just a minor mishap, huh?" you remarked, unable to hide the hint of skepticism in your voice. "Are you sure you're not secretly plotting to take over the world with your evil experiments?"

Eli's expression darkened at your joke, a shadow passing over his features as he regarded you with a serious look. "I assure you, [Your Name], there's nothing nefarious about my work," he replied, his tone grave. "I may have made some mistakes along the way, but I've always strived to use my knowledge for the greater good."

You winced at the sudden shift in tone, realizing that you had touched a nerve with your flippant remark. "I'm sorry, Professor," you apologized quickly, feeling a pang of guilt for making light of the situation. "I didn't mean to imply anything... I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Eli's expression softened at your apology, realizing that you were just trying to lighten the mood. With a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, he decided to play along with your joke, his humor dry as he quipped, "Well, I suppose if I'm going to be a mad scientist, I'll have to start practicing my evil laugh, won't I?"

Your smile widened at Eli's response, grateful that he wasn't holding your jest against you. The tension in the room dissipated as the two of you shared a moment of lighthearted banter, the heaviness of the situation momentarily forgotten.

But before the conversation could continue, the door to the hospital room swung open, revealing a nurse standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over," she announced, her voice gentle but firm. "I'll have to ask you to leave, [Your Name]."

You felt a pang of disappointment at the nurse's words, reluctant to leave Eli's side so soon. But you knew that you had to respect the rules of the hospital, no matter how much you wished to stay.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up from the chair beside Eli's bed, turning to face him with a small smile. "I guess I'll have to save my evil scientist jokes for next time," you remarked, trying to lighten the mood once more.

Eli's hand shot out, grabbing yours before you could take another step towards the door. Startled, you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden gesture.

"Will you... will you visit me again tomorrow?" Eli asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I know it's a lot to ask, but... I'd really appreciate the company."

You felt your heart skip a beat at Eli's request, a rush of warmth spreading through you at the thought of seeing him again. Despite his arrogant facade, there was something undeniably endearing about the vulnerability in his eyes, something that made you want to reach out and offer him the comfort he so desperately craved.

With a soft smile, you nodded in response to Eli's question. "Of course, Professor Michaelson," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'll come visit you again tomorrow."

Eli's grip on your hand loosened, his expression softening at your words. "Thank you," he murmured, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I'll be looking forward to it."

As you turned to leave the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of the situation, you found yourself eagerly counting down the minutes until you could see Eli again, eager to offer him the companionship and support he so desperately needed.

And as you walked out of the hospital room, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps, in the midst of all the chaos, you had found something unexpected—a connection that had the potential to grow into something truly meaningful.

The next day, Eli waited anxiously in his hospital room, his eyes fixed on the clock ticking away on the wall. With every passing hour, his hope dwindled, replaced by a growing sense of anger and despair. Why would you come? You barely knew him, and he barely knew you. He should have been grateful for your visit yesterday, shouldn't he?

As the day wore on, Eli's frustration mounted, each minute stretching out like an eternity as he waited in vain for your arrival. With each passing hour, he felt the weight of his loneliness pressing down on him, suffocating him with its relentless grip. He cursed himself for his foolishness, for allowing himself to hope for something that was clearly never going to happen.

Finally, unable to bear the silence and solitude any longer, Eli turned away from the door and lay on his side, his back to the room. He felt pathetic, longing for a visit from someone he barely knew. This was pathetic, he scolded himself silently, his thoughts filled with self-loathing and bitterness.

But just as Eli was on the verge of giving up hope entirely, he heard a soft voice calling his name from the doorway. Startled, he turned to see you standing there, a hesitant smile on your lips as you held out a bouquet of flowers and three brightly colored balloons.

For a moment, Eli was speechless, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to process the sight before him. You had come, despite everything. A surge of gratitude washed over him, mingled with a sense of disbelief. Why would you go out of your way to visit him again?

As you stepped into the room, Eli found himself nodding dumbly, unable to find the words to express his gratitude. You smiled at him warmly, your eyes filled with kindness and compassion as you made your way to his bedside. "Mind if I come in?" you asked softly, your voice breaking through the haze of Eli's thoughts.

Eli shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gestured for you to take a seat. "Please, come in," he replied, his baritone voice tinged with emotion.

As you settled into the chair beside his bed, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading through him at your presence. Despite his initial doubts and insecurities, you had come back to visit him, offering him a glimmer of light in the darkness of his solitude.

"Thank you for coming," Eli murmured, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "I... I didn't expect to see you again."

You smiled at him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand in reassurance. "I promised I would, didn't I?" you replied, your voice soft but sincere. "And I always keep my promises."

Eli's heart swelled at your words, a rush of warmth spreading through him at the sincerity in your voice. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope stirring within him, a glimmer of light breaking through the darkness of his despair.

As the two of you settled into conversation, the awkwardness of the situation melted away, replaced by an easy camaraderie and mutual understanding. Despite the brevity of your acquaintance, there was a connection between you that transcended the confines of the hospital room, a shared bond forged in the crucible of adversity.

As the days turned into weeks, Eli found himself growing accustomed to your presence in his hospital room. Despite his initial reservations, he couldn't deny the comfort and companionship you provided, even if it was accompanied by your playful teasing and irreverent humor.

Eli maintained his usual arrogance, his sharp wit and biting sarcasm ever-present, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter as much when you were around. You saw beyond his facade, recognizing the vulnerability and loneliness that lurked beneath his confident exterior. And in return, you became a facade for Eli, a shield against the harsh realities of his situation, a source of laughter and light in the darkness of his solitude.

Day after day, for two weeks, you came faithfully at the usual time, visiting Eli and spending quality time with him. You brought him books to read, engaging him in lively debates about science and literature. You even brought in a chess set, challenging him to matches that often ended in laughter and playful banter.

As the days passed, you grew closer to Eli, sharing stories and secrets, hopes and dreams. You learned about his childhood, his struggles and triumphs, his deepest fears and regrets. And in turn, Eli learned about you, your ambitions and aspirations, your quirks and idiosyncrasies.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was an unspoken tension lingering between you—a secret crush that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. You admired Eli for his intellect and charisma, his sharp wit and unwavering determination. And Eli, in turn, found himself drawn to you, captivated by your kindness and compassion, your irreverent humor and genuine warmth.

One day, as you sat beside Eli's hospital bed, engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of chess, you found yourself slipping up and calling him "mad scientist" in jest. Eli's hooked nose wrinkled in mock annoyance, his lips twitching with amusement as he grumbled, "I'll have you know, Miss [Your Name], that I am not a mad scientist. I am a highly respected Nobel laureate in the field of chemistry."

You couldn't help but laugh at Eli's mock indignation, knowing full well that he secretly relished the nickname you had given him. "Of course, Professor Snape," you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I'll make sure to deduct points from Gryffindor as soon as you return to the university."

Eli spat dismissively, a playful twinkle in his eye as he retorted, "Ah, so you admit it. You're a Gryffindor through and through with that insolence."

You laughed out loud at Eli's response, the sound echoing through the hospital room as you shook your head in amusement. "Guilty as charged," you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But you have to admit, Professor Snape, it suits you."

Eli rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but there was a hint of affection in his expression as he gazed at you. "Well, if I must suffer the indignity of being compared to a fictional character, I suppose I could do worse than Severus Snape," he conceded, his baritone voice tinged with amusement.

And as the two of you settled back into your usual routine, the playful banter and easy camaraderie filling the room with warmth and laughter, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected bond that had formed between you and Eli. Despite his flaws and imperfections, there was something undeniably endearing about him—a complexity and depth that drew you in, leaving you eager to spend every moment you could by his side.

Days later, Eli was finally discharged from the hospital, his body still weak but his spirit buoyed by the knowledge that he was finally free from the confines of the sterile hospital room. With a newfound sense of purpose, he made his way back to the university, determined to reclaim his rightful place as the esteemed professor and Nobel laureate he knew himself to be.

As he stepped into the familiar confines of the classroom, Eli couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. He straightened his shoulders, his hooked nose held high as he prepared to make his grand entrance, ready to bask in the adulation of his students and colleagues.

With a flourish, Eli stormed into the classroom, his baritone voice echoing off the walls as he demanded a round of applause for himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have returned!" he announced, his voice filled with arrogant confidence. "I expect nothing less than a standing ovation for my triumphant return."

The room erupted into applause, the sound filling the air with a cacophony of cheers and whistles as Eli reveled in the attention. He opened his arms wide, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips as he basked in the adoration of his audience, soaking in the applause like a man starved for validation.

But amidst the sea of faces applauding his return, Eli's eyes landed on a familiar figure seated in the front row—the same figure who had visited him faithfully in the hospital, offering him companionship and support during his darkest hours.

With a discreet wink, Eli acknowledged you, a silent gesture of gratitude and appreciation for the unwavering support you had shown him. And as he watched the smile spread across your face, a warmth blossomed in his chest, filling him with a sense of belonging and acceptance he had never known before.

As the applause finally died down and the class settled into their seats, Eli launched into his lecture with renewed fervor, his voice commanding the attention of every student in the room. But amidst the complex equations and scientific theories, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one person who had stood by him when he needed it most.

And as he caught your eye once more, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him, knowing that he wasn't alone anymore. With you by his side, he felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with unwavering confidence and determination.

As the class drew to a close and the students filed out of the room, Eli lingered behind, waiting for you to approach him. And when you finally did, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness welling up inside him.

"Thank you," Eli murmured, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For everything."

You smiled back at him, a warmth shining in your eyes as you replied, "Anytime, Professor Michaelson. Anytime."

And as the two of you stood there, sharing a moment of quiet understanding, Eli knew that no matter what the future held, he would always have you by his side, a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding him towards a brighter tomorrow.

[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerevents' Kinktober 2024 prompt #7: Shibari

Homewell; AU where Madelyn didn't die in season 1 and they just continued down that path...

"N-o…"

The way Madelyn says that word is both mortifying and goes straight to his erection, even though he doesn't think he could be any harder. She says it in the tone he's heard people use with dogs, cats, maybe small children. Like he's about to get a cone around his head or be put in a corner. She pries his hands off of her and gets up off his lap.

Their sexual trysts follow a very predictable script. It's always on the couch in her office. Never at her house. The one time he showed up at her house, thinking what's allowed at work would certainly be allowed at home, she had such a cold expression while rebuffing him that he was afraid to even fly past her house to spy on her at night for a few weeks. Doing this anywhere near Teddy was off-limits apparently, and he supposes that's for the best.

When they do it, she's always on top of him, clambering into his lap and then riding him, always the one in complete control of the pace, the angle, and the depth. But no matter what she does, no matter how languidly she moves, he always comes too quickly for his own liking. Maybe not as quickly as the first time they finally did the deed. But quick enough that he always apologizes, genuinely sorry and mortified but also knowing him saying 'sorry' and looking visibly disappointed with himself triggers reassurances from her. She's never angry about him coming early. Sometimes he wonders if she looks relieved that he's done, like she was just waiting to feel his hips jerking up underneath her. She tolerates anything from him in that department, timewise. But what she doesn't tolerate is something that he still mistakenly does from time to time, when he loses himself in the moment. He doesn't know why he does it. He has no idea where the impulse comes from and even less why it became a habit so hard to break. Maybe he saw it in some pornography video he watched very early on, when he was let out of the lab and suddenly discovered a whole world of information that everyone else was constantly using and privy to. But he doesn't even remember. He knows he often did it with Maeve when she insisted on being on top, also preferring to be in control of their encounters. It was something that made him feel like he was wresting back just a little bit of control– that he was taking enjoyment by slapping her and holding her hips as if he owned them. Maeve didn't seem to mind it. But Madelyn does, and she's right to mind it. He can't deny it's a risk, letting him smack her, however gentle he thinks he's being. 

She's gotten angry before, but she's never gotten off his lap and interrupted the whole thing.

"I'm really sorry," he finally musters up the words, panting, watching her walk away to her desk, a little worried that this was the last straw– that she won't allow him inside her again-- maybe ever again, his mind races with the terrifying prospect. "I- I wasn't thinking."

"Well it's very dangerous for me if you aren't thinking," Madelyn says, and she even puts her glasses back on. Why is she putting her glasses back on? Homelander can barely suppress a little whine of disappointment at the idea that his erection is just going to stay out in the cold air.

"Madelyn, please, I won't do it again. Look, I'll sit on my hands… I'll…" He looks around, desperately trying to think of what he can promise to do to atone for doing that one thing she hates.

"No, that's not enough" she says. "You cannot just do things and say you weren't thinking afterwards."

"It's because…" he trails off when he sees her coming back with a large bundle of rope. Why was that in her desk?

"Because what?" she asks, looking down at him indulgently over her glasses.

He sighs and gathers himself, folds his hands sheepishly in his lap. "Because it just feels so good to be so intimate with you."

"Thank you, Homelander, that's very kind of you to say" she says, stroking his face, and he really appreciates her never using petnames with him. "But I need to take some precautions myself. We need an early warning system. Now give me your hand."

He stares at her small, manicured hand-- it's purple nailpolish today, and she'll change it again in two or three days. She’s waiting for him to offer his hand, and he has no idea what she expects or has in mind. He thought she might be planning to tie his hands behind his back, but she seems to be asking for only one. He extends it towards her, and nearly jerks it back when she starts pulling his glove off. But he stops himself, submitting his hand to her. He's desperate to obey her to a tee right now, before giving her any more reason to end this session early.

"I need bare skin," she says as pulls the glove clean off and drops it on the floor.

He watches her, confused, as she interlaces her fingers in his. The contact makes him uncomfortable. She knows he doesn't do well with skin contact to his palms, so why is she doing this? She loops the thin rope around his fingers, and before he's aware of what's happening she has his three middle fingers in a complicated looking knot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, smiling uncertainly, trying not to look scared. He doesn't rightly know what he should be scared of, but Madelyn doing new things, asking new things of him, scares him, scares him with the thought that he'll reveal his ignorance, or not measure up in some way. So he tries to straighten out his back to look taller and more confident.

"I had a boyfriend in college who used to do really complicated rope bondage with me… relax, it was before I met you. Before I joined Vought," she adds, almost laughing.

Homelander averts his gaze, wondering what in his face gave away his immediate tension about her mention of another man. She knows him uncomfortably well.

Madelyn continues talking as she bends his hand until his forearm is right up against his bicep, wrapping the rope around, such that his arm is stuck in this bent position, fingers pulled back, forcing his hand open. "He was really into it, really skilled with the knots. He took pictures of me and it was artwork, frankly. I don't know if I can do it justice, but I still remember some of the knots and patterns he taught me. This one's called the Server's Hand."

"W-why would you be doing that?" Homelander asks, and he immediately hates how naive and straitlaced he sounds. He never went to college. He never really dated anyone except Maeve, and while she taught him a lot, he hated feeling behind. At least Madelyn is older, an authority figure in his life. At least she doesn't seem to judge him for the question.

"For me, getting rope laid on me was pretty sensual. I have no idea if it is for you– especially since you can't really struggle against the bonds like an ordinary person does. It also works better on the skin itself, but I assumed you wouldn't want to take off the top of your suit."

Homelander shakes his head. If there's one thing that was going to make this entire encounter more nerve-wracking it would be if she asked him to strip his top off. He never did except in the privacy of his apartment. Maeve made fun of him for that too.

"It's also about aesthetics," Madelyn says. "But that's probably more for me than you."

Homelander watches her start working on his other hand and lets her, trying to pay attention to the sensation, tries to see if he understands what she means about the rope itself being some sort of turn-on.

"So why're you doing it to me?" he asks, his voice still sounding smaller than he'd like. He's sitting there, very obedient, his erection flagging, but resurrecting itself every time she grabs the bare skin of his hand to maneuver it into the place she wants.

"For you? I know these ropes are like cobwebs. It wouldn't take much for you to rip right through them. But if you do, I get up and leave. Before you decide to smack me again, despite me telling you to never do that, over and over."

There it is. It is a punishment of sorts after all. Homelander would rather be sitting on his hands. This pose, now having his arms immobilized on both sides is not very comfortable, his muscles jammed against each other. But he can't very well sag against the ropes, not when she just told him not to break them. There's more rope remaining and she starts wrapping it around his neck.

"Now usually," she narrates, "it would be bad practice to tie rope around your neck. It's considered pretty dangerous unless you use specific knots that bear loads in specific ways. I’m not experienced with that and I wouldn't do it with anyone else, frankly. But I don't think we have to worry about that, right?"

Homelander shakes his head, swallowing, feeling his adam's apple move against the rope she's wrapping around his neck in several loops before creating something like a leash that she uses to pull his head forward. He doesn't have to move of course, but he doesn't want to risk the rope breaking.

Homelander tries to picture exactly what he looks like, his arms pinned up, elbows out, palms facing her, a collar and leash around his neck. But Madelyn answers his question for him.

"There we go. So pretty. Wrapped up like some kind of gift, with a bow."

Homelander swallows down a whimper. It barely counts as praise of him, when she's admiring her own handiwork, but when she says she enjoys looking at him like this, it makes him stop questioning anything about what they're doing.

She takes off her glasses and gets back on the couch, her knees on either side of his naked thighs, but she doesn't sit back quite yet, peering at him before warning him, "Now if you tear any of that rope…"

"I won't!" he retorts, and regrets interrupting her, wondering if she was going to threaten him with something sexy. But he's scared of disappointing her and he wants her to sit down again, wants to be enveloped in his warm, soft humidity so desperately. He doesn't care if some of that moisture isn't her own excitement but just the bottle of silky lube she preps herself with. She keeps it in her locked desk drawer but he can easily peer through it, can sometimes see her through the door of her office getting ready for him, discreetly, under the desk. He'd never dream of calling her out on that. Don't ask, don't tell. She wants him, she finds him attractive, and they have a bond like no one else in this whole entire company, and that's all that matters. "... I won't," he repeats, quietly. 

She lowers herself down on him slowly, and he's just as hard as when she came off of him earlier. Everything feels great, is going great, and he's even got his eyes closed, until he feels her fingers touch his exposed palms.

"Nggghh, Madelyn!" He manages to mumble out her entire name after his grunt. He sounds pained but it has more to do with his sensitivity, finding it hard to sit still and not squirm his hands away.

She relents but only for a moment, and Homelander feels her grab his hands again, rubbing her thumbs into the middle of his palms, and the sensation is both uncomfortable and supremely arousing.

"M-Madelyn…" The word exits his mouth almost like a cough. He still sounds pained, and now wonders if he is, wonders where over-sensitivity ends and real discomfort begins. It's so hard to keep his hands still when they're being touched so aggressively.

"You see how it can feel when someone else is touching you without permission?" she asks, and he nods eagerly, even though he barely sees the parallel. When he slaps Madelyn it's a loss of control on his part. He's never ever seen her lose control, at least not with him around. He's seen her lose control alone, at home, using her vibrator, and he wonders if he should try being bolder, asking her if he can go down on her and try to tonguepunch her rapidly enough that she has to admit he's better than a battery powered toy. But she's always in control of herself and even of him when they're together.

At least she's stopped touching his hands, now merely petting his arms, straining in the knots not to free himself but to keep as still as possible and not break a single dainty, fragile rope.

"Do you feel good?" she asks and he nods automatically, even though there's frisson up and down his spine as his body starts anticipating that she'll touch him somewhere near his underarms, and he shudders at the thought, dreading it even it happens through the protection of the suit. But he does feel good. Anytime she's sitting on top of him is a good feeling and everything else is details.

"You look beautiful like this," she says pulling him in with the leash, his nose almost bumping into her chest, inhaling her scent which always seems to concentrate near her breastbone. She strokes his face, and runs her fingers through his hair a few times before resuming her rhythm. Homelander is instantly feeling electrified. His arms are begging to move, to hold her small body and feel ownership of it in his lap. But he stays as he is, closing his eyes, losing himself to the stimulation on his throat, on his fingers, and yes on his cock but that’s almost an afterthought right now.

His orgasm is slower in coming than he’s used to, his body confused by new sensations, and his mind preoccupied with keeping still, but once it comes he's embarrassed by the sounds escaping him. He thrusts upward, desperately, once, twice, thrice, before collapsing down in the couch, feeling more spent than usual.

Belatedly he realizes that some of the ropes holding his arms pinched have ripped and he nearly starts crying because it seems like he just keeps finding new ways of disappointing her.

But she looks down at him with a kind, indulgent smile. "I know it was hard. You did so well," she says, almost beatifically, and for once he thinks she might be sincere.

AO3 link

The "server's hand"? It looks like this:

[swelling-ftm-belly]

The Surrogate, pt.1

you always wanted to be a father, didn’t you? your husband finally agreed. He decided to show more support, you both had an agreement. it’s not like you didn’t try the other options that wouldn’t make your husband uncomfortable. adoption proved to be an excruciating path; you both agreed on exploring surrogacy. this is when I came into your life.

you came about knowing me from a mutual friend; we agreed to meet for the first time at that innocently quiet cafe at your posh neighborhood, your husband was, of course, there.

I remember the sting of jealousy I felt that day. you both looked like the dream couple, so handsome and accomplished, one in finance and the other in the fashion industry. and here I was, broke, with nobody to support me, and willing to offer up my boywomb for money.

I never interpreted the glint in your eyes everytime I opened my mouth to speak as attraction. you were kind, a kind, reliable man, your eyes shone with warmth, you were totally devoted to your husband, to starting a family with him. didn’t you?

that day, after I left, I didn't expect you to reach out again, your husband was, for some reason, visibly uncomfortable, eyeing me with a sharpness I couldn’t fathom. I decided to let it go, although I started fantasizing already about your baby growing in my belly.

to my surprise, you asked for another meeting. your husband was there, and that’s when you proposed your arrangement, you’re good at this, at convincing people, it must have taken your husband a lot of convincing.

you wanted us to do it the natural way, both of you ‘taking turns’ with me. you thought this would easily offer equal chance of you or your husband having a biological child, so you wouldn’t have to decide which one’s sperm will be chosen for surrogacy.

my mouth dropped, dry, but my pussy was already wet in my pants. your husband looked furious, and I wondered if he felt pressured to be onboard, while you looked at me with concern, and apologized for the indecent proposal. and I said I’ll think about it.

the thing is, I was a virgin, a total virgin, I never had a cock inside my pussy before. and I was doing this only for the money, I was ill-informed, I thought this was gonna be all in a lab in a very medical setting. they’ll give me an injection and I’ll have your money then carry the baby for 9 months and that’s it. but now, now, I didn’t know any more, it was already giving me feelings and fantasies I wasn’t prepared for.

my pussy was wet the whole way back from our meeting, and I masturbated that night to the image of you spreading my legs.

I sent you a text apologizing for not being able to be your surrogate. it was too much, and I got scared of the way it made me feel.

but your husband showed up the next day at the diner where I waited tables. Although still aloof and apprehensive, he begged me, dryly, to accept, he wanted his husband happy. and the thought of your unhappiness pained me, I knew I was developing a strong crush on you.

the agreement was that your husband arranges everything, and decides when we will meet to do it, how, and for how many times.

a week later i came to your place, a huge 3 rooms apartment, I saw that you had a baby room already.

your husband received me, and I couldn’t see you anywhere, my heart sank, and I resisted the urge to turn away and run. you were late to work, your husband said you were working late hours lately, in a frustrated tone, I wondered whether you were truly the dream couple i imagined you were.

I wondered if all this was your husband's last attempt to save the marriage, my thoughts got ahead of me when we heard the keys in the door, you were here. No kisses? your husband, tense and impatient, told you to join us in the bedroom quickly, you didn’t even manage to shower.

i got dressed first, your husband was supposed to be the first. despite his apparent resentment towards me, I was surprsed to see that he was already hard, did he get off of the fact that his husband was going to fuck another boy in front of him? maybe. I sat down on the bed, then laid there, spreading my legs, I ran my fingers over the lips of my wet pussy, your husband grunted, “no, on your knees.”

I sighed and changed position, I was aware of you, getting undressed, your breathing was loud, you were stroking your cock, I glanced at you, your eyes were dark and cloudy with an intensity I never imagined in you, you were so proper, so decent, so uptight. I felt the tip of you husband’s cock at my opening, he kept his erection, I was impressed. i bit my lip, and looked up to you, you were standing at the corner, looking at us and touching yourself, my pussy must be dripping right now, your husband saw you and that aggravated him.

he thrust into me, without a warning, he didn’t even take time to stroke my tdick, or tease the opening of my pussy with his tip, he thrusted hard, and violently, I think i heard him grunt, it was a low, quiet grunt, as if he was angry at his own, unexpected lust. he rammed into me without mercy, I moaned in pain, no pleasure yet, I was being plowed aggressively, his cock was at least 7 inch or more, and he was thick, it was tearing apart my virgin pussy, I heard myself say no, whimpering weakly, you approached us, concerned, my eyes welled with tears, and i held back a cry of pain, you were about to intervene, except that your husband grunted one last time and with a final, deep thrust, he exploded inside of me. i felt his cum, hot and prefuse, you two probably haven’t fucked in a while, it was a few weeks load.

I was still on all four, my knees shaking, my jaw clenched, you approached me, “hey, hey. you ok? Do you want to stop?” I was about to break down in tears, when your husband said, “no intimacy, you’re gonna fuck on all four too. let’s get done with it.”

you breathed hard, I felt your warm breath on my back, I perched my ass up to make it easier for you to enter me, your husband’s cum was dripping down my thighs, he went and turned on the shower, and you took the opportuning, your hand slid to rub my tdick, I kept quiet, you leaned forward, your nose in the small of my neck, you opened your mouth, and your tongue touched my skin, it sent me into a delirious kind of pleasure, i let out a sigh, your big, long fingers circling my clit, my vaginal lips, your other hand was on my mouth, for some reason, your husband chilled, perhaps it was a post-nut chill, he ignored us and went showering. you inserted two fingers in my mouth, and the two fingers of your other hand in my pussy, your thumb on my clit, giving me slight pressure, you kept me quiet, we were accomplices, we both knew your husband shouldn’t hear my moans of pleasure.

you felt he was about to be done with his shower, your tip was on my opening, you had the bigger cock, and I was prepared for more pain, except there wasn’t.

you managed to slid into me slowly, my pussy took your cock with such eagerness, it embarrassed me, your tongue was in my neck, in my earlobe, your mouth getting close to mine. and when you buried your cock, all the way in, up to my cervix, you stole a kiss, your mouth was wet, and warm, i felt your tongue, we heard your husband getting out of the shower, you held me, your hands moved down and rested on my lower belly, while your cock continued to thrust deep inside me, your husband was whistling in the bathroom, you were panting hard, your hips moving frantically, your hand gripping my belly, you whispered my name, “I want to fill you with my babies.”

I felt my womb ache and twitch, the tip of your huge cock ramming into my cervix, my pussy was gripping you so hard, my eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure, I whimpered, “yes, yes, put a baby in me, daddy.” I was shocked at myself, my womb, feeling so empty at the time, was desperate for your seed, I’ve never been so desperate. you grabbed my hips and thrusted into me, i felt a mix of intense pain and pleasure, I welcomed the pain, I welcomed the pleasure and I welcomed your seed inside me, I felt a fire burning in my womb. although you did eventually get me pregnant with your babies, I always wondered if it happened at that first time already.

We were spent. i collapsed on the bed, and you collapsed sitting on the floor, away from me, your husband was back in the room, I laid on the bed, legs spread and cum spilling out of my torn pussy. “you better get dressed now, sweetheart, we have dinner plans later tonight.”

TBC

[kybercrystals94]

The Defender (ch.4)

Febuwhump 2025 | Day 4 | Prompt: In Another Life

Read here on Ao3

<< Previous Chapter | Master Post | Next Chapter >>

Rated: G | Words: 2253

Character Ages:

Omega (4.5 - 8)

The Batch (Chronological: 1.5 - 4.5 / Biological: 3 - 9)

The day the babies left, Omega was brave. 

They weren’t really babies anymore. They were able to walk and run and chase and talk. But to Omega, they were still her babies, her little brothers. Nala Se explained very carefully that they were ready to be integrated into the Standard Care Unit with other clones of the same development level. 

They didn’t need the intensive supervision of the lab anymore. 

They didn’t need Omega anymore. 

“Mega’s coming too?” Oh-one asked as Omega helped shepherd the boys to the hovercart that would take them away. 

“Omega belongs here,” Nala Se told him before Omega could say anything at all. 

Oh-one’s lower lip trembled and he turned dark, wide eyes on his sister. He clutched her fingers tight in his hand. “Please come?” he whispered so quietly, just for her ears. 

Omega was brave, even though the words hurt so, so deep. “I belong here. You all belong up there.”

Her little brothers cried when they left, little voices calling for her, as the door of the lift slid shut. Nala Se went with them, and Omega was left alone for the first time in a very long time. She wasn’t sure if she even remembered what it was like to be alone, to be lonely. 

But she hated it. 

**

“Can I visit them?” Omega asked Nala Se one morning about one standard week after the enhanced units left the lab. 

She had refused to ask for as long as she could stand, the question burning on her tongue, because she knew what the answer would be before Nala Se even turned to look at her with that dark, orbed gaze. The one that made Omega feel small and insignificant. It was nothing like she had felt under the watchful eyes of her little brothers, when they’d followed her movements with devoted interest. 

Nala Se sighed. “You know that is impossible, Omega. It would severely impair their development. As it is, the influence you have already had on them has been detrimental to their growth.” 

The sharp, uncomfortable twist of panic in Omega’s stomach made her feel sick. “But…I only helped take care of them.”

“You developed an attachment to them, Omega, and they to you. It has hindered their integration into the Standard Care Unit. They are only now starting to settle.” 

“Oh,” Omega whispered, because she had no defense to give. She had not listened to Nala Se’s warning about becoming attached to her brothers. She hadn’t known how to. Nala Se made it sound so simple that she hadn’t wanted to ask. 

Or maybe, Omega did not want to listen. Did not want to know how. 

And that was the fact of it, wasn’t it? 

“I do not blame you, Omega,” Nala Se continued. “It was an oversight on my part. I had not anticipated the enhanced units remaining for so long in the lab. However, if you feel any love for the units, you will understand that further contact with them would be harmful to them. Dangerous even. Do you understand?” 

Love? 

The word was new to Omega, but she knew that it must be what that warm, deep emotion in her chest was called. 

Love.

She loved them. 

And if she loved them, she had to let them go. She could never see them again. 

To keep them safe. 

“Yes, Nala Se,” Omega said quietly, her voice squeezing out around the lump in her throat. 

Nala Se nodded, satisfied with Omega’s obedience, and turned back to her work. 

Omega walked very carefully to the fresher and locked the door. Then she sat on the floor in the far corner and, for the first time since her little brothers had left, she cried too. 

**

“Omega, you are familiar with AZ-series medical droids,” Nala Se said one morning while Omega was finishing her early meal. 

Omega startled at being addressed, since, typically, Nala Se did not appreciate Omega talking when she was supposed to be eating. She swallowed her last bite of grey porridge before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I am going to have one assigned to you. I believe that it would be helpful to your training as a medical assistant as well as providing companionship. You have not been yourself and it is troubling.” 

She did not say that Omega had not been herself since her brothers were taken away, although Omega knew that was when she had begun not feeling like herself. She had tried to keep her moods regulated so that Nala Se would not notice. However, there was very little Nala Se did not notice. 

“Yes, Nala Se,” Omega said, and despite everything, she felt a little excited at the idea that she would have her own droid. 

Omega had spent her entire life surrounded by droids; however, they paid her little mind and only addressed her when they were ordered by Nala Se to either care for Omega in Nala Se’s absence or to conduct tests or health examinations. The droid Nala Se would assign to Omega now would be required to be friendly, which none of the other droids had ever been.

True to Nala Se’s words, later that morning, while Omega was working through a Basics Module, an AZ-series medical droid arrived in the lab. While on the surface the droid looked like any other medical droid Omega had seen, there was a lilt to his movements that made Omega smile. He looked unsure of himself, head swiveling as he took in the enormity of the lab around him. 

Finally, his attention came to rest on Omega, still sitting at her work station. 

“Hello,” he said, lifting a hand and waving. Omega had never seen a droid wave before. “I am AZI-345211896246498721347. You must be the clone classified as Omega.” 

Omega’s smile grew. “May I just call you AZ?” 

The droid seemed to consider the question carefully. “Would that positively impact your emotional health?” 

“I think it would be easier and faster than saying all those numbers every time I talk to you,” Omega said. 

AZ’s head tilted. “That is an excellent point, Omega. If it would be more time efficient to call me AZ, you may do so.” 

He did not say it to be funny, but Omega laughed. 

She didn’t think she had laughed since before her brothers left.

**

Some days were harder than others. 

Some days, Omega wished she could just forget that her brothers were ever there. But she couldn’t. No matter how many ways she tried to distract herself, memories of them stained everything in the lab. They couldn’t be scrubbed away.

That chair would always be the chair that all five of them would climb into to watch nature documentaries. 

That desk would always be the desk that Oh-one would hide under when his developing enhancement overwhelmed him. Omega would find him there, pull him into her lap and cup her hands over his ears, his face hidden against her, until he felt better. 

That computer would always be the computer that Oh-two tried to play with. No matter how many times Nala Se changed the passcode, Oh-two would be caught only minutes later with the large screen unlocked. 

That cupboard would always be the one that Oh-three got stuck in after he had a growth spurt. One morning he’d been able to hide in it during hide and seek and the next he’d gotten stuck. Nala Se put locks on all the cabinets after that. 

That shelf high on the wall would always be the one that Oh-four would climb to and perch on, refusing to come down no matter how his siblings begged. Nala Se was the only one who could reach him, lifting him down day after day with strict warnings not to do it again. But he always would. 

But other days, most days, Omega worried that she would forget. She worried that the four faces of her brothers would fade from her memories, that the echoes of their voices in her ears would go silent. She worried she wouldn’t be able to remember how it felt to hold their hands, or have their arms wrapped around her neck. 

No matter how much it hurt to remember, she never wanted to forget. 

AZ tried to play with her, although he did not understand the purpose of chasing one another around the lab. Stories were also difficult for AZ to understand. Stories about the little brothers she’d never see again did not make AZ laugh, and he was especially confused when they made her cry. 

And cry. 

And cry. 

“The enhanced units are developing well in their new environment,” AZ told her one day after Omega had cried herself into a choking, gasping, snotty mess. “I will show you.” 

He led her to the computer Omega used for her learning modules and found his way into a file Omega had never seen before. He put in a code and a feed came up of the Standard Development Unit. There were lots of little clones running around the room, but Omega’s eyes found her brothers in the fray immediately.

They’d grown. 

A lot. 

Where had her baby brothers gone? 

“Are you still experiencing emotional distress?” AZ asked, because the sight of her brothers had not dried up the tears in her eyes. It had only changed the cause for them. 

Omega leaned in close to the screen, brushed her fingers across where her brothers had collected themselves into a corner, away from the other little clones. They were talking, heads bowed close to one another. She couldn’t see their faces. But they looked safe, and they were together. 

Omega knew they didn’t need her anymore. 

But she also knew she needed them. 

**

AZ taught Omega how to follow her brothers around Tipoca City through the security cameras that spied on the rooms and halls. Every free moment Omega had was spent chasing her brothers from behind the confines of a glass screen. But if this was as close as she’d ever get to them again, Omega was grateful for it. 

Omega watched as her brothers grew and changed and stayed the same. She was relieved when they donned themselves with real names rather than their numbers. Oh-one became Hunter, Oh-two became Tech, Oh-three became Wrecker, and Oh-four became Crosshair. Funny, clever names for her funny, clever brothers. Omega liked the feeling of their names on her tongue and would say them often, daydreaming that maybe, in another life, she would be able to call out to her brothers by name and they would answer her. 

Omega’s life fell into a rhythm. She felt happier, she behaved happier, and Nala Se believed it was the work of Omega’s new medical droid companion. Omega let her believe it, because it was not entirely untrue. AZ was Omega’s friend, and without him, she might never have learned how to find her brothers again. 

The compromise was, in Omega’s mind, safe. She was not interfering in the lives of her brothers. They never had to know that she was watching them, that she loved them. She never heard them talk about Nala Se’s lab or a sister they’d never see again, so she assumed that the mistake of her early involvement had been healed. Her attachment to them could not hurt them, would not hurt them…and she refused to let their detachment from her break her heart. 

It was what was necessary. It was what was safe. 

As long as her brothers were together, as long as they had each other, they were safe. 

Omega liked to believe she was never tempted to interfere, that she was content with the circumstances she’d been given. She knew no other way, and her brothers didn’t either. 

Everything changed, however, the day the batch of enhanced clones were separated. 

**

“Who are you?” Hunter asks. 

His eyes meet the camera’s lens, and it’s like he’s looking directly at her. 

Omega knows that she shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have interfered. She shouldn’t have used the comm unit to speak to Hunter. She should have left well enough alone, simply left him locked in the closet until the danger had passed and then let him out. Even that is more than she should ever have done.

But Hunter had looked so scared. 

Something in her had snapped. 

And now, not only had she spoken to him, she had told him that she has been watching him, watching them. That she knows them, that she knows their names. 

That she knows Hunter has been keeping secrets, has suffered the abuse of those bullies all alone. 

She can’t stand it anymore. Can’t stand to standby and let her brothers suffer when she can do something. 

But what has she done? 

…if you feel any love for the units, you will understand that further contact with them would be harmful to them. Dangerous even…

Omega closes her eyes. Guilt makes her stomach feel sour and her skin burn. “I can’t tell you. It isn’t safe.” 

“Okay,” Hunter says, and unlike before, it sounds like he believes her. That he might, just maybe, trust her. 

Omega shouldn’t have interfered. 

But she’s glad she did. 

Nala Se had said her brothers didn’t need her anymore, but she was wrong. They did need someone to watch out for them, someone to protect them when no one else would. 

And if Nala Se is wrong about this…what else is she wrong about? 

Up Next....

Prompt: Not Trusting Reality

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