#and (knowing EM is likely still monitoring him) later going back by himself to the place where EM helped Morty

[glitteringcrab]

"Just don't force me to improve on the design" suggests Evil Morty will not even bother building the Omega Device (he disapproved of it because it was so bulky lol), and will only deign to devote any of his time to it if he catches whiff of them trying to track him down (I mean... IF he is to be taken at his word; he IS a huge liar, after all).

...Which in turn suggests he will be monitoring them periodically or something.

So everyone be on the lookout in the next season for our protagonists (and by that I mean Morty) being badly cornered in a battle with no way out and then the enemy robots (or spaceship or evil A.I. or whatever) suddenly starting to malfunction, killing each other instead, and some little on/off light on the back of the robots' heads turning discreetly yellow.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

can I req yandere Ben x reader moodboard and headcanons? I feel like he watches you through your computer camera

-🦇 anon

Summary: Yandere Ben drowned x reader hcs

Genre: Angsty-ish?? nothing too bad though

Warnings: Yandere themes, so stalking, murder, obsession, etc.

A/n: 🦇 is no longer here, so if you wanna take this anon name feel free to do so! Also AGH I LOVE WRITING YANDERE STUFF

Credits: Ben drowned- Creepypasta, Divider- benkeibear, Drawing of Ben- shatteredankles (instagram), Other pictures- Pinterest

Yandere Ben drowned hcs

The thing with Ben is, he's so nonchalant with everything he does, it takes a lot to get him to show any emotion

So when he gets obsessed, he gets OBSESSED

He has a knack for finding people, switching between random people's webcams trying to find a specific person for a mission

But as he mindlessly clicks through different lists of different people, pulling up any names that intrigue him, he finds you

Immediately he is drawn to you, he doesn't know why, but he is

And when he sees your face, so focused on the task at hand, he knows he needs you

He doesn't know how he needs you, or how he even thinks he's going to go about acquiring you, but something about you entrances him

After his death he's so used to feeling numb and disconnected from the world, both physically and emotionally

But seeing you there, it makes him feel things again, as if he were alive again

And he doesn't want to stop this feeling

So he stares and watches you through your webcam for hours, his prior mission being totally forgotten

That is, until you suddenly yawn, stretch, and turn your computer off

He jumps a little at the sudden blank screen, and quickly rushes to see if you have your phone on

Frantically typing and clicking, he breathes a sigh of relief he didn't even know he was holding when he finally finds your phone and looks through it's camera

Even though its screen isn't on, the phone itself is, so he can still see you

That is, until you plug it in and set it on the nightstand beside you

Then all he sees is the ceiling

He sighs and rubs his eyes before putting your phone's window on another monitor and going back to the task at hand

Once done, he begins to research you a little more (making sure to have windows open for any cameras you may have in your house)

He learns your home address, where you go to work, your full legal name, social security number, interests, hobbies, etc

By the time you wake up and begin getting ready for the day, he feels like he has known you for years instead of just a few hours

When he sees your phone camera start to move he gets so excited, hurrying to bring the window over to his main monitor and watch you as you go about your morning routine

He watches you nonstop for weeks straight, only stopping when you go to sleep and he can no longer see you, but even then, he fills that time with researching you or scrolling your socials

It is only when Jeff is in his room a week later that he even thinks of the possibility of being something with you

Jeff is annoyed by the fact that all Ben's been doing for a solid month now is obsessing over you, so with a big groan he says "If you like them so much, go get em! What're they gonna do, say no? You're a ghost man!"

Only then does Ben realize that he is actually dead, and can basically have you all he wants

He doesn't have to watch you through cameras, because he can make himself invisible and spy on you that way instead

If you got scared, it's not like you could hurt him in any way, because you'd phase right through him

And best of all, if anyone tries to interfere with you and him, he could easily scare them off

So with this new knowledge, he sets off in search of you

Which of course, isn't far considering he already knows exactly where you live

And every day for months, he follows you around everywhere you go, never more than a foot away from you

Your friends have picked up on something strange, and are very uncomfortable being around you now

Whenever they're around you, they get a weird feeling in their gut telling them that something isn't right, oftentimes your hair randomly just starts floating as if someone is playing with it, and your apartment is always just so cold....

This being said, you are now very isolated and lonely

Ben sees his chance in this, and begins leaving you little gifts, things he knows you'd like

Once you get accustomed to the gifts, he begins leaving letters, slowly revealing who he is, and his love for you

At first you are just happy to have someone that likes you despite how uncomfortable everyone seems to be around you

Then it evolves into curiosity over the identity of this strange person

And then, you begin to feel the beginnings of a romantic interest starting to bloom for this stranger

It is only once you are obsessed with figuring out who he is, sometimes coming home and just begging into the air for them to reveal themselves, because you know they're with you somewhere, does he dare reveal himself

You are on your hands and knees, begging and pleading for him to just give you a hint as to who he is "I won't tell anyone" you promise

It is then that you feel the familiar cold chill go up your spine, and you know he is near

You don't speak or move, scared you'll upset him into silence in some way

You then hear a voice by your ear whisper "Cross your heart and hope to die?"

You gasp at the new information you have: a voice

"Yes" You whisper back

A hand begins to fade into view, and it comes to cover your mouth to stop you from screaming

You then feel a body form behind you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip, pulling you into his body

He's as cold as death and slightly translucent, and as you turn to look into a reflective surface, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, you are stopped when you feel him begin to nibble on your ear

"You'll get to see me soon, princess/prince. All you have to do is keep true to that promise"

And with that he fades away, as if he was never there

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 18: Recovery

Yet again the ficlet gets away from me! Hob can be hypermobile, as a treat (for me)

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“Turn that light off or I’m gonna rip up that book you’re reading, I swear,” Hob grumbles, arm thrown over his eyes.

A single lamp is on in the hospital room, overlooking the armchair Dream has sat in since Hob was admitted.

Dream scoffs, “Darling, you could call the nurse for painkillers. That is what they are there for, no? I recall many dreams of comfort from nurses.”

“You must be missing the nightmares of ‘em too. Fine, I’ll do it for you,” Hob fumbles for the call button in his bed. “You really don’t have to stay, love. I’m sure you’ve work to do.”

Dream shuts his book and sets it on the side table. He crosses the room to hold Hob’s other hand, the one free from IV line and oxygen monitor.

“Beloved, you are unwell. My place is here with you.” He presses a kiss to Hob’s forehead, sweaty and tasting of hospital as it is. “I will not leave you.”

Hob weakly squeezes his hand.

“How did I ever survive without you? Hell, even I don’t know how I’ve managed this long. Imagine what it was like when bloodletting was the in thing.”

Hob attempts to stretch his legs, wincing at the twinge in his knee. It’s reset in its proper place, held in place by braces and tape. The physical therapist will be there in the morning, no doubt to tease him about another go-round in hospital and to assess the damage to his connective tissues. They’ll let him go in a couple of days, it’s not too serious considering everything Hob’s dealt with over his lifetime. It wasn’t until he settled into a more comfortable life in the 16th century that his body started to fall apart. The musculature of soldiering and later working the printing press kept his joints in place, but when he no longer had to use his body as a tool, the joints soon felt loose in their sockets.

Eleanor had helped him then, massaging his shoulders through the twinges and calling the local physician to provide him laudanum before he wrenched the bone back in place. If he weren’t immortal, there would’ve been much more damage than lasted. There was certainly a lot of scar tissue that stuck around, but Hob retained his hypermobility and occasionally had to break through it to keep moving.

Things got better as time went on, though he’d rather forget the 17th century altogether. Medical knowledge advanced and by the time of the 20th century they had words for people like him, more than double-jointed, more than flexible. Sometime during the 70s, he saw a rheumatologist who told him he had abnormal collagen that lead to the scarring, dislocation, and bruising. Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome, he said. The doc had introduced him to the brilliant world of physio, which kept him moving most of the time.

But like anybody, he got lazy. Skipped his exercises for too long, and inevitably he’d dislocate something he couldn’t put back himself. Somebody would call an ambulance or he’d drag himself to A&E and spend a couple days in hospital. It was lonely, then. Days staring out the window into the dreary London skyline, nothing to entertain himself with but the telly.

But now Dream is here. And Dream understands. He’s explained it like this: having a corporeal form is in itself a form of body horror. He’s grown used to it, spending more time in the Waking with Hob, but still it is frightening to be trapped within skin and bone, muscle and sinew, to take damage and feel pain. So to Hob who’s body seemingly fights against him, Dream’s being fighting against his body is not so different.

Dream comes with him to A&E, rests in the uncomfortable armchair on the observation floor, brings him a phone charger and crossword puzzles and reads to him. Like sitting in this dreadful room, pungent with bleach and alcohol, is no hardship at all. And it isn’t, not in Dream’s eyes.

Dream leans down to kiss his lips, soft and gentle. He pulls back, staring at Hob’s face. Even when he is sweaty and pained and hasn’t bathed since Thursday, Dream gazes at him like he is a masterpiece. His heart clenches with how much he loves him.

“I am glad you survived alone. And I am glad you no longer have to.” He releases Hob’s hand and goes back to his seat as the nurse comes in.

“Hi, Robbie, sorry it took so long. Busy day up here! What can I getcha? More juice? A blanket for your other half?”

“Hey, Michelle. I was wondering if I could get my PRN? My head’s killing me more than my knee, frankly,” he chuckles.

Michelle pulls up his chart on the little computer she’s brought with her. She hums as she clicks, and clicks, and clicks about five more times before arriving at the correct tab.

“Looks like it’s certainly time for you to get more pain meds! Let me page Dr. Lansing and we’ll get that in right away.”

Hob smiles at her, grateful for the beauty of modern medicine. He can wait as long as they need to get his pills.

“Do you need anything else while I’m here? I can grab one of the nursing assistants for ya,” Michelle says as she drags the computer cart towards the door.

“I think we’re alright, right love?” Hob looks at Dream, already lost in his book again. He doesn’t respond.

Hob smiles. “Yeah, we’re good. He gets lost in a story so easily.”

Michelle leaves, shutting the door behind her. Hob sighs and lays back in the bed, replacing the arm he’d thrown over his eyes.

“Dove?” Hob calls out. Dream hums in response, looking up from his book.

“Can you come up here with me? These rooms are too damn cold.” Dream closes the book once again and climbs into the bed, lifting Hob’s bum leg to help him scoot over. He lays on his side, gazing at his love. Hob buries his head against Dream’s lithe chest, inhaling as much as his lungs can hold of his scent. Dream pulls the thin blanket over the both of them, then brings his hands up to hold Hob and stroke his hair.

“Rest, my love. I will be here as long as you are to recover. Then, we will go home. I will not let you ‘forget’ to do your exercises anymore.”

Hob huffs and snuggles closer, drifting closer to sleep with Dream’s aid and ministrations.

Michelle gives Dream a soft smile when she returns to the room with a glass of water and two giant pills in a plastic cup.

“Have him take these when he wakes up,” she whispers. “Promise I won’t tell on you.”

For once, Dream gives someone else a gentle smile, knowing his Hob is loved and cared for.

[luminberry]

Predmos? [Pred Deimos with whoever you see fit as prey]

First time for De1mos! and Gonna use him for lore hueheue

De1mos unknowingly starts some shit after subjecting some agents to some unknown pink mist :3c

The mission had gone a bit wayward after the Agents had managed to separate him and S4nford mid mission. S4nford had radio'd in ealier to tell him he had escaped safely but it'd take a while for him to circle back safely to where they last remembered seeing one another.

De1mos had managed to get into a security room and lock the doors behind him before he got cornered. But thankfully for the resourceful hacker he knew how to keep himself safe, and maybe tackle two birds with one stone.

"Alright lessee if this ol hunka junk still works.. Maybe the security system can be rigged from in here? Would be funny if I can turn the damn guns on em for once."

Sitting in front of several derelict looking monitors, De1mos got to work slowly but surely hacking his way into the systems database, something that he enjoyed knowing they rarely if at all remembered to change passwords or codes even after all this time.

Several quite moments of typing, occasionally interrupted by his pursuers banging on the door and demanding he let them in immediately, De1mos let out a hum of satisfaction. All the systems read ready for operation, now he could do whatever he wanted to those stupid goons waiting for him outside..he just needed to see what was available.

"Hm..got the good ol'reliable bullet turrets..but those only got so many rounds.. Could use their flame throwers for fun? Mmm naahh they'd take forever to die that way.."

Looking through his options, one in particular caught his eye. It was something he didn't remember seeing being in use in any other base he and S4nford broke into for intel. It was just labelled "Neutralizer. Powder Variant." and nothing else.

"Hmm guess we got RnD somewhere here cooking up new stuff? Guess I'll test it for em! Let's see what it does, sound good to you guys outside?"

"Stop fucking around in there and give yourself up before we knock this door in!"

"Heheheyeah right..sounds like a yes to me."

A few lines of code later and the alarms kicked up something bad, followed by a rather intimidating shutter door sliding down on De1mos's side of the doorway, effectively sealing him inside. The noise outside went from angry to confused..to very much alarmed. De1mos, curious as to what he started, clicked his way to the outside security cams to watch what was about to happen outside the door, listening to the now muffled 4gents outside as well.

"H-Hey! What the hell did you just do in there? What he fucks going on, get that door open!"

"There's a shutter?? I can't get it to open up they're all locked down here too! When did we install this? Oh fuck, GET AWAY FROM THE VENTS NOW."

De1mos watched the cameras with interest as a odd mist of some sort started rolling out of the vents, looking up briefly to find he was safe on this side of the door..It must of been made as a deterrent for takeovers or the like..Not that it was doing them any good now honestly. Several heated seconds of panic and yelling later, everything fell silent outside.

"hm, done already out there? Jeeze they weren't kidding when they said it was a neutralizer..Wonder if it killed em all..Can't see shit on the screen. Guess I gotta wait for it to clear?"

Looking around at the few other unused screens one caught his attention, it was blank aside from a few command prompts waiting to be initiated.

"Oh what we got here? Lessee...oh hey I think this might be for the shit I just unleashed on those guys..I can reverse the vents to get rid of that weird mist shit, then get the hell outta here finally. Fordie's gonna be amazed I cleared the whole base out doing fuck all hehe. Let's clear this stuff up first.."

Setting off the first command prompt cause a secondary alarm to go off followed what sounded like the worlds most decrepit vacuum to go off for five minutes before shutting off at last. Watching the door shutters slowly rise back up, he figured the coast was clear and safe at last to try and escape.

Grabbing his gear, De1mos wasted no time in heading out to the halls more out of curiosity to see the damage that weird mist caused with everyone.

Once out in the hall proper he was shocked to see...nothing? Everything was left untouched aside from scattered weapons and several dented doorways someone tried to break down for escape..He didn't even see any bodies..?

"Huuh? That's weird..nothing here at all? What the hell did it do to em? Did it fuckin vaporize em? Damn.."

Not even their clothes remained..De1mos was a bit concerned and interested, he'd have to find the RnD department here and see about finding out what it was that he did, maybe Doc would be interested in it.

Walking down the hall something moved out of the corner of his eye, making him stop with a hum. Something was still out here? Curiosity running high he moved towards the box he saw the shape dart behind and moved it aside, blinking in shock at what he found.

Three or four mini 4gents stared up at him in horror..perfectly tiny down to the little shades..De1mos couldn't believe what he was seeing, it was enough of a shock that he let out a cackle in disbelief.

"Wh-what the hell?? You guys are fucking microscopic!! Holy shit..c'mere lemme look at ya, c'mon its fine its fine I promise.."

It was surreal watching the other two try and flee after he nabbed the closest one in a loose grip, his other free hand quickly snatching up the remaining 4gents.

"Lookit you guys..so fuckin small..That stuff shrank you so bad, issit like permanent or something?"

"Wh-wh-Stop put me back down, I don't know about any of this- most of us were brand new hires! Please- I don't wanna die.."

"Hey hey..stop blubbering at me jeeze.. You weren't bein so nice ten minutes ago when you were shooting at me and my buddy. Think I should just let that shit slide?"

"uhh...yes? please..?"

"Pft fat chance shorties..Just gotta figure out what to do with you guys..Wonder if there's any more of you hiding here.."

Looking around he found two more a few feet away hiding poorly underneath a table clutching one another. Five in total De1mos wondered what he could possibly do with them as he watched them squirm and beg in his grasp.

A low gurgling pang from his midsection moments later cut through his thoughts and silenced his small audience in one swoop as he grinned devilishly down at them.

"..Hmm I think I know just what to do with you lil guys..How bout we do some lunch and see how things go from there, sound good?"

"No-nonono! You can't be serious here, you can't eat us!"

"Sure I can buddy, here I'll even let you go first since you spoke up."

"Ah- oh maker..wait wait please!"

"Nuh uhh~ I'm starvin here buddy, c'mon and help me out."

De1mos grinned and opened his mouth up wide as he moved to drop the terrified 4gent onto his awaiting tongue, quickly closing his jaws with a snap before they could try and escape..He'd seen h4nk do this several times before, and while he could never eat someone the same size..well someone smaller like this was easily doable.

Feeling the small form thrash and wriggle in his mouth he hummed as the taste of sour candies filled his mouth, making him scrunch his face up a bit in reaction. It wasn't a bad taste at all but not quite what he expected 4gents to taste like. A few minutes passed and he noisily gulped them down, feeling them drop into his empty stomach a moment later and begin to kick and thrash away in there.

"Huh so that's what it feels like..not too bad but damn I hope the rest of you don't all taste the same..Might need to find something to wash you guys down with if that's the case.. How bout you next? Gotta free up one hand here anyways."

The next one was popped into his mouth before they could even start begging to be spared..De1mos humming happily around them as the flavor of hot chocolate flooded his senses, he didn't mind taking a bit more time tasting them.

The poor 4gent couldn't fight as they were pressed to the roof of his mouth and curled about that massive tongue before finally being sent down to join their teammate in his stomach at last.

The others were easy enough to get down his throat as well, from fruity to even savory he enjoyed their strangely delicious tastes before all five were tucked away in his stomach at last.

"urp..Well damn that went alot better than I expected, no wonder H4nk can't control himself around you guys..never expected you all to taste so good..Which I guess is a weird thing to say but..eh."

As De1mos talked he navigated the now empty halls, making his way towards RnD. He chose to ignore the few little shapes running in fear from him now and then, he was already full and didn't quite want to overstuff himself like his teammates tended to do.

Finding the sector he was looking for it didn't take too long for him to locate the computers talking about the weird mist he had triggered. There was even some samples locked away he broke into to grab, a small looking jar containing what looked like ordinary bakers sugar colored a soft pastel pink.

"Doc's gonna love this stuff once I show him the data on it..could make clearing bases alot easier and less bloody.."

"-1mos, come in De1mos..HEY CHUCKLEHEAD YOU HEAR ME?? Come innn alreadyy"

S4nfords loud voice started the distracted Hacker for a moment, he had completely forgotten he needed to meet up with his partner still. Grinning he pinged back, eager to tell them about the discovery he made.

"Hey Fordie there you are! You won't believe what the hell I just found in here!"

"Does it gotta do with why there's like a hundred tiny 4gents running around the halls like scared mice?"

"....Maaybe..I'm at RnD where you at?"

"I'm back at the entrance, guess we got everything we need if none of these goons can even fight back anymore..What the hell did you do to em?"

"Hang on I'll come meet you at the entrance and explain, try grabbing a few of em if you can."

"uhhh alright, I can try grabbing three or four.."

"Good, see ya inna few 'Ford buddy!"

"See ya inna bit"

Grinning to himself he patted his slightly swollen gut and raced off to meet up with his partner, pocketing the pink powder for later.

[letarasstuff]

"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[angelatmidnight1]

ahh great tysm! could i request a lee!octane x ler!reader where octane is blasting loud music from his room and won’t turn it down so the reader tickles him to get him to shut it off, and it ends up in a whole tickle fight between the two? thanks!!

Turn Down For What!

You are a new support Legend to join the Apex Games and are scheduled for a variety of lessons with the veterans of the game. Combat training was difficult enough, but you managed to get through it to Bangalore’s satisfaction. Now, it was time for another important lesson: picking your teammates up when they fall. Lifeline shows you the proper technique for reviving squadmates, but the lesson is interrupted by loud, blaring music coming from Octane’s room. You’d only met the speedster once or twice; he never sat still long enough to have a full conversation. You offer to go to his room to ask him to turn the music down, but not before Ajay sees you off with an interesting tidbit about him.

“Ajay…”

You cast an uncertain look at the combat medic beside you, holding the resuscitation syringe in a shaky hand. The MRVN was knelt down in front of you, animating the bleeding out effect, which only made your hands that much shakier. “I can’t...they’re gonna die…”

Lifeline shook her head and put a firm, yet comforting hand on your shoulder. “They won’t if yuh help ‘em. Remember what I told yuh to do?”

You frowned and met her eyes again, but she wasn’t backing off. So, you didn’t have a choice but to get close to the robot and help them onto their back. That was the first step. Then, you made sure that their arms were extended out by their sides to jab them with the serum. You hesitated; wouldn’t that hurt them?

Probably less than dying would. You thought, flinching a little bit when the combat medic squeezed your shoulder, urging you on. You pursed your lips and brought your hand down in one swift motion to inject the serum. At first, the MRVN flinched and reeled forward, but then they were able to grab your hand and stand up. Once they were on their feet, MRVN’s monitor flashed a smiley face, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

Lifeline smiled and nudged your arm. “See, what’d I tell ya, (y/n)? Yuh a natural doctor yuhself.” She complimented. She handed the MRVN her healing drone and a shield battery. Then, she looked at you again, her gaze serious. “I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ya gonna see a lot of bumps and scrapes once ya in the games. Even hesitatin’ for a second can determine whether ya get ya squad up or not.” She said, standing in front of you with her hands on her hips. “So you gotta get used to lookin’ at it.”

You sighed, shoulders slouching. “I know,” You admitted while rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ll get better at this.”

Lifeline scoffed. “‘Course ya are,” She answered matter-of-factly, making you arch a brow. When looked up, she was already handing you another syringe. “We gon’ keep practicing until ya feel comfortable.”

And that’s what you did. Ajay stayed by your side while you practiced reviving MRVNS. Over time, you felt more confident and got the robots to their feet more quickly. You gave the medic a huge smile, making her chuckle, but then she gestured to the robot in front of you. You looked at the MRVN, holding the syringe in a better grip, and moved to jab their arm. Well, that was until a loud guitar rift startled you, making you stick the syringe into the robot’s optic instead. The MRVN’s monitor flashed an exclamation point and you yelped, trying to correct the mistake.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to--”

Lifeline held up her hand and shook her head, sending her D.O.C. over to revive the robot instead. Then she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I swear, one of these days, Silva…”

You looked at her curiously and cocked your head to the side. “Who?” You asked. Although you had an inkling about who she was talking about, you’d never learned the Legend’s real name. He wasn’t an easy man to get a hold of.

“Octavio Silva. But ya might know him better as Octane,” Ajay explained, having to raise her voice over the music. “Boy’s gon lose his hearin’, playin’ music that loud.”

The MRVN handed the syringe back to you, and you gave it back to the medic. You had to admit, the music was really loud. You wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of the Outlands could hear it. “I can ask him to turn it down,” You offered, putting your hands in your pockets. “That way we can continue with the lesson.”

Lifeline chuckled and shook her head. “O’s as stubborn as it gets, but if ya want to try, go ahead.” She said, nodding in the direction of his room. An idea came to her just before you could leave the medbay, and she called your name, making you turn around. “(Y/N), in case he refuses to turn it down, there’s somethin’ ya can do…”

What Ajay told you made you grin, and that grin stuck even as you approached the speedster’s door. Who knew that the fastest, most daring Legend in the Apex Games was ticklish? Welp, you did, now! You knocked on the door, not really expecting a response, but you thought it’d be polite to do it anyway. Octavio never came, most likely from not hearing it, so you let yourself in. You flinched, the sounds hitting you like tidal waves, which made you cover up your ears. In the center of the room, the adrenaline junkie was hopping from jump pad to jump pad, practicing trick shots in time with the music. You cleared your throat and called out to him.

“Octavio? Octavio!”

No luck. You rolled your eyes and walked towards him. That mischievous grin tugged at the corner of your lips as you got close, but you’d need to wait for him to land before you could get him. After another bounce, he landed back on the floor, which gave you the opportunity to tweak his side. Octane cried out and jumped away from the sudden touch. He whirled around and faced you, holding his arm against his side.

“Uh...hola? You need something?”

Since he wasn’t wearing his mask, you could read his lips, but you’d prefer to hear him. You pointed to your ears and shook your head. Octane obliged by turning his speakers’ volume down a tiny bit.

“Make it quick, I gotta get these clips uploaded so I can edit them.” Octane urged. He turned off the camera on his desk and turned to you again. His eyebrows rose. “Wait, we’ve met before. You’re new around here, right?”

You nodded, raising your voice a bit since the music was still loud. “Yeah, I’m (Y/N). We spoke a few times on the dropship.”

“Right! Well, I’m kinda in the middle of something, so we’ll have to hang out later.” Octavio chuckled, cranking his speakers back up to full volume. You flinched and hurried beside him to turn it back down.

His head snapped over to you and he grabbed the speaker. “What’re you doing?” He exclaimed, holding it just out of your reach. You huffed and tried to take it back from him. Octane, however, was much taller than you.

“It’s too loud, Octavio! Can’t you just turn it down a little--”

“Psh, no! I’m listening to this.”

You groaned and hopped up towards the speaker, missing it by inches. “Half of the ship is listening to it! Just turn it down, please?” You insisted. Instead of complying, Octane put the speaker on a shelf that was far out of your reach, and you weren’t skilled on using his jump pads yet. You narrowed your eyes and poked his side again, making him gasp.

“I’ll turn it down in a sehehecond!” He snapped, making a poor attempt at stifling his chuckles. You poked him again, making him yelp and make a grab for your hands, which you dodged by jabbing him in the stomach instead. “Stohop! Why ahare you poking me?”

You smiled and held out your hands, wiggling your fingers tauntingly. “Because Ajay told me that you weren’t gonna turn it down, and that I can tickle you if you refuse!” You chirped. Your smile turned into a cheeky grin when the speedster wrapped an arm against his torso, which only encouraged you to get closer. “So let me ask you again, Octavio, will you turn the music down?” You arched an expectant brow at him and managed to back him into a corner. The speedster shook his head, poised to defend himself.

“NooOOOO---”

That’s all you needed to hear to lunge at him. He managed to catch you and hold you by the arms before you could knock him over. You, however, had combat training with Anita earlier in the day, and you put that training to good use. You stuck your leg out and hooked it around his, pulling it towards you. This made him lose his balance and fall like a sack of potatoes. You cheered victoriously, shaking his hands off, and worked to get his arms pinned down.

Octavio grunted and pushed your shoulders, unknowingly freeing up the sweet spot that Lifeline mentioned. “Stop! Seriously, I have things to doOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NO! GEHEHET OHOHOHFF!”

You’d buried your hands underneath his arms and wiggled your nails along his armpits. He slammed his arms against his sides and burst out laughing. Now, you weren’t sure which was louder: him, or the music.

“I know you have stuff to do!” You laughed, drilling your nails into the center of the armpits. He responded by arching his back and letting out another scream of laughter. “At the top of your list should be turning down the music...right?”

“I’M NOHOHOHT TUHUHURNING IHIHT DOHOHOHWN!” The speedster fired back. He hugged his arms even tighter against his sides when you tickled at an even faster pace. He even made the attempt to buck you off, but you were straddling his waist, and just had to lean forward to counter his weight. You narrowed your eyes and opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted by something thumping at your waist. You looked down at your belt and beamed; you still had some medical tape on you, courtesy of Lifeline. Your hands were trapped by his arms though, and you only had one way to free them.

In one swift motion, you ducked down and blew a raspberry into Octavio’s exposed stomach. He writhed against the floor, laughing even harder, but he still didn’t loosen his hold on your hands.

“AAAH! STAAHAHAHAHAHAP! DOHOHOHOHN’T TIHIHICKLE MEHEHEHE!” He demanded through his fits of laughter. He squealed when you blew another one, just above his belly button, and bucked his hips repeatedly. “DOHOHOHOHOHN’T!”

“Huh?” You glanced up at him and cocked your head to the side. He panted heavily, a grin still etched onto his face, which only made you smirk. “Sorry, I missed what you said. What don’t you want me to do?”

The speedster was still plagued by giggles and had to reel them in before answering you. “I sahahaid stohohop tihihickling mEEEEE--”

Instead of letting him finish, you took a deep breath and blew a huge raspberry over his belly button. Octane bucked violently and shrieked, the wild laughter immediately following suit.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”

His laughter was contagious and you found yourself laughing along with him. “Oh, were you still talking?” You teased, wiggling your trapped fingers back against his armpits. He cried out with laughter and kicked his metal legs against the floor, prompting you to tickle even faster. Finally, he released your hands during another attempt to push you away. Then, like clockwork, you seized his wrists with one hand and held them above his head. He yelped and squirmed, protesting the entire time, but his fate was sealed...literally. You’d managed to tape his wrists down on the floor and clapped your hands together.

“There, that’s better!” You smiled, putting your hands out in front of you. You wiggled your fingers again and snickered when he paled. “Now, where were we?”

For someone used to moving at trailblazing speeds, everything happened so fast for Octavio. One minute, he’s vibing with his music and jump pads, and now he’s pinned on the floor, laughing his head off? You’d already confirmed that all of this was basically Lifeline’s doing, and she was well overdue for some good ole revenge.

Hermana, you are so dead. He seethed, snapping out of his thoughts when your hands lowered towards his armpits. He panicked; now wasn’t the time for plotting. He had to get away!

“No, no, no! Wait, (Y/N)! Dohohon’t tickle my armpits, plehehease!” He pleaded, preemptively giggling and trying to curl in on himself. You grinned and held your hands so that they were just touching his armpits, sending ticklish jolts up and down his arms. “I juhst wahahant to listen tohoho my music!”

“I never said you couldn’t! I just need you to turn it down.” You repeated, pressing your fingertips into the exposed pits. He squealed and arched his back as high as he could, making you laugh again. “You gonna do it or what?”

Octavio blabbered out something, attempting to bargain with you, but that’s not what you were there for. You tsked and gently scritched circles around each armpit. As much as you wanted to dig into them, you wanted to drag this out as long as possible. The speedster snorted, giggling uncontrollably, and uselessly pulled against the tape.

“Ahahahahaha! Nohohoho, por fahahavor!” He yelped, bucking his hips when you poked at the center of the armpits. You squealed, almost losing your balance, but then you sat back on his waist and continued the gentle scratching. “Lehehet mehehe lihihisten to my music!”

“Will you turn it down?”

Octane’s head snapped up to you; you were stubborn. If he wasn’t giggling up a storm, he’d tease you about Ajay rubbing off on you already. He shook his head and yelped again when you grabbed his sides. You pinched them, making the poor man yip and snicker, and earned a bark of laughter when you stroked along his rib cage.

“Iiii—heheheheh--nohohoho I wohohon’t!”

“Wrong answer~.” You sang, swiping your nails against each sensitive rib. He arched his back, swearing in Spanish, only to fall back down and continue giggling.

“Stahahahahahahap!” He whined, tossing his torso from one side to the other, which didn’t do anything to stop you. You ignored the plea and scratched up higher, teasing his center most ribs, which made him gasp and kick. “AH! Noohohoho nohohoho, nohohot thehehere!”

“Not where?” You asked innocently, opting to poke at the ribs on either side. You alternated the pokes to keep him guessing and giggled at his high pitched squeaks.

“THEHEHERE!” He yelled when you suddenly honed in on his ribs and scribbled along them like there was no tomorrow. He tried to flip onto his side, buck you off, anything to get you to stop tickling. But you easily kept up with all of those fruitless attempts. “AHAHAHAH!”

You smirked, pressing your fingertips into the spot. You drew little circles into his skin, laughing when he threw his head back. “Here?” You repeated, fluttering the tickles from one side of his rib cage to the other. He nodded frantically, drowning in desperate giggles, but you pressed on.

“Oh,” You continued, still smirking. “Cause I was sure you meant here…”

You walked your fingers up towards his armpits at a slow, slooow, pace. Octavio jolted and squirmed violently, his protests lost in his laughter, and his wrists straining against the tape’s hold. He was basically cackling by the time you got to where his armpits started, but you didn’t attack yet. You just held your hands there, snickering at the panicked laughter pouring out of him already.

“What’re you laughing for?” You grinned, flexing your fingers, but still not moving. Octavio screamed, arching his back, only to fall victim to another fit of giggles.

“Plehehehehease…” He begged. He held his arms rigidly and met your eyes, which just made you smile more.

“Please what? I’m not doing anything, Octavio.”

He groaned and opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. Instead of attacking both armpits, you only attacked his right one, while your free hand scratched at his sensitive stomach. Octavio’s eyes bugged out and his desperate giggles spiked to loud, hard laughter.

“NOO--AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAHAHAHAHAHAY!”

You perked up while dragging a finger around his belly button. He screamed again and thumped his head against the ground, wildly shaking his head. “Okay?” You repeated, dipping your finger inside his belly button and scratching around. The wail of laughter initially startled you, but you kept on scratching anyway. “Okay what?”

“I’LL TUHUHUHRN IT DOHOHOHWN! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” He yelled. He sucked in his stomach and drummed his legs back against the floor the more you kept scratching. You grinned, feeling triumphant...but you were having too much fun to stop!

“Yeah? You promise?” You chuckled, jabbing a finger into his right armpit while you continued to tickle his belly button. He flinched and nodded over and over, finally falling into hysterics, and then silent laughter when you dug into both armpits. You slowed down the tickling to give him the opportunity to breathe.

“Y-Yehehehes...I prohohohmise…” He panted. You didn’t notice that the tape holding his wrists down was coming undone, so you felt perfectly comfortable in pushing your luck. You took your hands off of him and brought a hand up to your chin, pretending to think.

“Hmm, alright, Octavio. I guess that’s good enough,” You began, putting your hands down at either side of him. Octane breathed a sigh of relief, believing that you were about to climb off of his waist, but you pinched his hip bones instead. He gasped and reeled to the side, but then you did it again, and again, and again, until he was snickering all over again.

“Hehehehehy! Whyhyhy ahahahre yohuhuh--” The speedster yelped when you used all ten fingers to tickle his belly. He cackled, but hadn’t fully recovered yet, so he didn’t have as much energy to squirm. “WHYHYHYHY TIHIHIHCKLE MEHEHE AGAHAHAIN?!”

“Because it’s fun!” You laughed, ducking down to blow another raspberry over his belly button. Octavio howled and laughed even harder. “Haha, Ajay was right. You are way too ticklish for your own good.”

Now he had two people to get revenge on. And, through a stroke of luck, he was about to serve you your just desserts. Why?

Because when he arched his back to try to get you off of his stomach, the tape split with a resounding riiiiip. You froze, looking up towards the sound, and gasped loudly.

“Oh shit--”

Octavio having his hands freed gave him a burst of energy, and he used that energy to take you down. He sat up and grabbed your arms, making you swear again, and you pushed your shoulder into his chest.

“No! No no, truce! AHHH--!”

Octane far outmatched you in terms of strength, and he easily wrestled you to the ground. He pinned your arms underneath his legs and immediately went for your sides.

“Oho, not funny anymore, is it?” The speedster ridiculed, his wiggling fingers a blur as he scratched up and down your sides. You let out a screaming laugh and tried to sit up, but he was too heavy.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” You hollered, arching your back when he reached under your shirt and scritched at your bare stomach. “AHAHAHA! STOHOHP! I WAHAHAHS KIHIHIHIHDDING!”

Octavio scoffed and used one of his hands to dig into your left hip, continuing to tickle your belly. “Well, I’m not! I’ll show you what happens when you tickle me, amigo/a!” He quipped, snickering when you threw your torso against the ground. He kept switching spots at an alarmingly fast pace: your stomach, hips, sides, even knees. It didn’t give you a chance to resist the sensation and kept you guessing as to where he’d strike next...which proved to be pretty difficult.

“OCTAHAHAHAVIO!” You shouted, the panic dropping on you when he honed in on two of your worst spots: your knees and your stomach. You shrieked and kicked your legs against the floor, which was annoying him, so he opted for laying over your legs to hold them down. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAP! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHRRY!”

“Stop? Me?” The speedster snorted and alternated the squeezing along your knees. You howled with laughter and desperately pulled at your trapped wrists, but he wouldn’t budge. “Haven’t you heard, (Y/N)? There’s no breaks on the Octrain!”

When he reached under your knees to tickle the skin there, your laughter was louder than anything coming out of the stereo. Since your left knee seemed more sensitive than the right, he focused on that one exclusively, and reached behind him to poke at your stomach. It tickled so bad, and he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. So, as a last resort, you decided to cry out for your mentor.

“AJAHAHAHAHY!” You shrieked, jerking to the side when he pinched at the top of your knees. “I NEHEHEED HEHEHEHLP!”

Octane cringed and stopped tickling you, glancing at the door. He half expected the doctor to be standing there, waiting to pounce, but she wasn’t. You breathed heavily and laid your head back on the ground, grateful for the distraction. While he wasn’t paying attention to you, you tested the grip he had on your arms, and were surprised to find that you could move them slightly. You took a breath and managed to pull one of them free before the speedster turned back to you. Without a second thought, you squeezed his side, making him yelp and topple over.

“AH! Noohohoho yohuhu dohohohn’t!” He laughed and gripped the free arm, forgetting about the other one until you pulled it free. You poked his ribs and hopped back on him, drawing out the tickle fight that much longer. Ajay could hear the commotion from the medbay, but all she did was smile and prepare for your next lesson.

I hope this was to your liking anon! This was my first reader insert fic. Please let me know with you think. If you don't like it, I can try to rewrite it.

[laurie-stark]

Unwanted-Peter Parker

Summary: Y/n Stark gets more than she bargains for when she joins her Pops, Captian America, for the civil war of the century.

Pairings: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader, Steve Rogers x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting

A/N: Just so you don't get too confused, Y/n is Tony Stark's biological child, however, she was raised by the Avengers and refers to Natasha and Steve as Mama and Pops. Also I wrote this a year ago LOL. Enjoy x

Part Two

New York, 2016

This was bad. Very, very bad. I had seen the secretary come in the compound over the screen of the security monitors. He marched into my home, unannounced and unwelcome, holding himself with purpose. I followed him over the screens, tracking his movements. I watched as he was led through the building, up the elevator and into...the conference room? Oh this was bad. Very, very bad.

I raced as fast as I could. By the time I got the to conference room, the whole group was already sitting in front of the secretary. I saw Wanda first. Her back was to me, but I could see her rigid frame and I knew something was happening. My  father saw me approaching through the glass walls. He shot me a look that said "Don't do it. Don't come in here." I didn't obey.

The secretary stopped speaking abruptly when I walked through the doors. He gave me a quizzical look, did a once over and immediately looked at my father. Surely I don't look that much like Tony.

"Sorry I'm late, no one informed me about this team meeting," I gasped, short of breath from all the running. Of course, this was pushing it. As much as I wanted to be a part of the group, fighting was not my style, so I often got left out of important Avengers activities. I got to live with them, but that was it. Tony rose from his seat. He mumbled an apology to the secretary and gently ushered I out of the room. I would have fought back, but seeing the look on my father's face was enough to shut me up. And I never shut up. The secretary resumed his story. Something about golf and a heart attack.

My dad turned to face me. "Look kid, I get that you want to know what's going on, and you will, but today isn't the day."

"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's okay to be curious," he replied, walking back into the meeting. "Stay upstairs, okay hun?" I nodded and started the trek back up to my room. I shut the door and flopped onto my bed. Out of my long list of pet peeves, this was number one. Sure, I didn't want to fight, but come on family, I should at least get to be in on what's going on! Maybe I could help. I have powers for God sake. I am more than capable of helping the Avengers. But they always saw me as the little girl who needs protection.

"April, pull up security footage of the conference room please," I asked. April, the AI I built, that was modeled after Friday, projected the video surveillance from the ceiling. "Volume up." The group was in the same position as from when I left. The secretary was passing around the room. There was a thick white book being passed around the table.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve said quietly. "I feel we've done that."

The secretary looked down at him. "Tell me Cap, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" What? You were so confused. Why did the secretary care where my uncles were? No one answered the secretary's question, so he kept talking. I racked your brain to find the answers on my own. "...this is the middle ground." The secretary pointed at the book, now lying untouched on the table.

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked.

"The you retire," the secretary responded. With that, he left the room and I scurried back downstairs.

Everyone was in the living room. I sat in the stairwell, again being uninvited to this group discussion. I listened to them fight. I figured out what was going on. The United Nations were being ungrateful little bitches and hated that they didn't have control over my family. So they gave an ultimatum: give in or give up. From the sounds of it, Uncle Rhodes, Vision and two of my four parents were in agreement with the accords. Steve and Sam were against it. Wanda hadn't said a word. Tension was growing high, I could feel it. I heard my father conclude that he won and a thud of the accords being tossed on the coffee table. Someone got up and left. Before I had the chance to act, the door to the stairwell was torn open. Steve pushed through and nearly stepped on me.

"Eavesdropping?" He smiled.

"You kicked me out, what else am I supposed to do?" I retorted. I noticed the tears welling in Steve's eyes. "Pops, what's wrong?"

Steve's glance fluttered to the ground. "Peggy. She, um..." was all he said. All he had to say. I  was smart enough to read between the lines. I stepped forward and hugged Steve. He smiled, grateful that he had me. I knew how much Peggy meant to him. When I was little, he'd always tell me the story about how they met, how they never got that dance. And every time I would make him dance with me. He even took me to visit her once. I was ten and it was Christmas time. Steve told me that he wanted his favorite girl to meet his favorite niece. Now that was all but a memory. I held him tight before telling him to go. It was okay, I could handle the others. He left without a second glance.

Within days the team was scattered. Steve and Sam had gone to Peggy's funeral. Natasha was off to the signing of the Accords in Vienna. And then all hell broke loose when the bombs went off at the signing ceremony. As always, I  were left home. I had no idea what was going on. At first this break in the team was about the Accords, but somehow Steve's old pal Bucky got involved. I didn't know what to think. The next thing I knew, everyone left for Berlin to rescue Steve and Sam from jail, leaving myself, Wanda and Vision at home.

When night fell, I was in my room, sulking as one would say. I was spending my evening flipping through Tumblr. There was a new superhero everyone was talking about. He called himself Spider-Man. New York based, focused on small neighborhood crimes. By YouTube footage alone, it was obvious he was a rookie. Soon enough, though, I accidentally conducted a full fledged search on this guy. He seemed shady. Sure, he's helping old ladies cross the street and all, but he just has a vibe. I couldn't put my finger on it. April broke me out of my research when she told me that there was a security breach in the compound. I pulled up the security camera footage and saw Clint Barton in my living room with Wanda levitating a knife at his nose.

I rushed downstairs. When I got to the living room Vision was holding Clint by the neck. I watched in silence as Wanda used her powers on Vision. She made it look easy. Slowly, Vision sunk to his knees. Wanda pushed further and the floor gave way. Vision was pushed through all seventy-four thousand levels of the compound. Wanda and Clint were about to turn to run out when you revealed yourself.

"Now was that really necessary?" I smirked. "We just had the floors waxed."

"Y/n," Clint warned.

"I'm not sitting on my ass," I said. Clint smirked and nodded. He knew he couldn't stop me anyways.

One car ride, plane flight and van trip later, I was in Germany. As it turns out, Steve wanted Clint and Wanda on his side, along with some ant dude named Scott. Scott was cool. Him and I sat together on the plane ride and watched Die Hard. He was asleep in the van when we pulled over in the airport parking lot. Clint told me to stay in the van. For once, I listened. I heard voices belonging to Steve and Sam. Clint slid open the van doors abruptly, shaking Scott awake. I chuckled to myself as he fangirled over my Pops. A voice over the intercom said something in a language I didn't know. A voice I didn't recognize said that the airport was being evacuated.

"Stark." Sam muttered.

Scott looked puzzled. Clearly he hadn't been filled in either. "Stark?" he asked.

I step out of the van. "Yes?" Steve and Sam look at me with wide eyes. Clint gave Steve a sheepish shrug. Behind their little blue car stood Bucky Barnes. I knew who he was. I learned about him in school. I knew he was some evil super soldier that attacked Natasha and Steve. He looked scary. He looked exactly like the type of guy to hurt my Mama and Pops. I held his glance until Steve spoke up.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Steve whisper-shouted. His voice always got quiet when he 'yelled' at me.

"I hitchhiked." I replied, knowing that at this point Steve didn't have the time to argue with me. He shook his head in defeat and took a deep breath.

"Suit up."

The airport was huge. Our group got suited up and started for the runway. I didn't know how Steve knew where to find my dad, but I followed him anyways. Before I could get any closer, Bucky held me back.

"It's, uh, not gonna be safe. You should stay here and keep low," he said. I frowned. I did not come all this way to not fight. But even still, I nodded. Bucky scared me. He and Sam took off in another direction to find the getaway jet. I laughed. This whole thing was ridiculous. My attention turned to the sound of my father and Rhodey flying down from the sky.

"Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in," Tony started. "That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve replied nonchalantly.

"Your judgement is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday-"

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find 'em first Tony. I can't."

"Steve," Natasha approached him slowly. "You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

I took this as my cue. "No, but I will," I said, emerging from my hiding spot. I looked at the faces of your family. My gaze fell on Tony and my smile dropped. He looked angry.

"You brought my daughter into this?" Tony yelled, turning to Steve.

"Technically, I brought myself," I said. "You really think you were gonna leave me out of all the fun?"

Tony pinched his brow. "Y/n, this is serious."

"No it's not," I objected. "No, this got personal the second you thought you were gonna loose Pops to Bucky." No one moved after I said that.

"Alright, I've run out of patience," my father finally spoke. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Underoos!"

Before I had a chance to process, a red and black blur whipped past my head. It landed on top of a nearby van. It was Spider-Man. As in the Spider-Man. He had taken Cap's shield from him. I said nothing. My father could have recruited me, but instead he chose this little neighborhood nobody. That hurt a little. The Spider-thing and my father bantered for a minute. So he's never even been in a real fight before, I thought.

"You've been busy," Steve smirked.

Tony turned back to Steve. "And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint and Y/n, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep-" he paused, sighing. "I'm trying to keep to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you signed." Steve kept his cool. My father did not.

"Alright, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us! Or squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction of being polite. Come on."

Everyone stood still, waiting. Steve put his web-cuffed hands in the air. Clint shot them free from a mile away. I saw Scott -or a tiny version of him. Spider-Man noticed too, right before Scott grew and kicked him in the face. My dad flew off to retrieve Wanda and Rhodey was ready to take on Cap.

"Hey Mr. Stark, what should I do?" Spider-Man asked. He sounded young.

"What we discussed, keep your distance, web 'em up!" My father barked, as he flew towards Clint and Wanda.

"Okay, copy that," Spider-Man replied. He shot a web at me first. It caught my arm and I got whipped to the ground. I glared at him.

"Really?" I hissed.

"Just following Mr. Stark's orders," He said before swinging off after Bucky. I was left on the ground once everyone dispersed. I tried pulling my hand out of the sticky material that was shot at me, but it was stronger than glue. I was forced to watch the action unfold and wait until Natasha ran past me.

"Mama, a little help here?" I called out to her.

She stopped for a second. "Sorry honey, I really don't want you getting hurt." She ran off and I groaned. No one ever wants me to get hurt. I suppose I should be grateful, but in a moment like this, gratitude is hard to find. I started toying with the web. I wondered if I could break down the molecules. Surely there had to be some sort of H2O compound in it somewhere.

My power surged through me, the current flowing to the hand webbed to the ground. I managed to manipulate the water out, just as I predicted I would. The substance melted off my hands. Gross, I thought. I wiped the remaining web on my pants and got up. The water from the webbing fell to the ground with a splash.

I stood up and examined my surroundings. Natasha was on the ground fighting Scott, who shrunk down and flipped her over her own head. The Black Panther was on the other side of the roof, battling Steve. I didn't move. As much as I wanted to be included, I couldn't bring myself to fight. Not now at least.

The two teams assembled, divided by a line on the pavement. How cinematic. I was on Cap's side. I never meant to fight against my father. If anything, I thought it was funny. I looked out at the team in front of me. They were all lined up, Rhodey, the cat, Tony, Nat, the Spider-brat. Vision hovered above them. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I were scared. I wasn't made to fight.

"What do we do Cap?" Sam asked.

"We fight." Steve moved first. We followed in suit. My dad's team mimicked my team's actions and walked closer. We  broke into a jog and then a full out run. This was really about to happen. I hoped that my family would go easy on me. I knew what I was doing. I reassured myself of that. I have done a bunch of training, especially with Wanda. I could move the freaking elements with my mind and manipulate gravity! As if the Spider-Man could beat that. I am Y/n fricking Stark. I can do this.

I put a smile on your face, contrasting everyone else's bitter looks. "I call the spider!" I yelled, just as everyone began the battle. Spider-Man heard me and slowed down just a bit. I cocked an eyebrow. He resumed his pace and ran straight for me. I ran headfirst towards him. He threw out his arm to web me, but I was faster. With a swish of my hands, I changed his gravitational pull and made his feet flip out from under him. He landed on his back with a hard thud. As gently as I could, I morphed the pavement under him to trap his hands. "Careful there, Spider-boy. Don't wanna get stepped on." I walked away. I made it about ten steps before I heard the sound of concrete cracking. I turned around and saw that Spider-Man was breaking free of his restraints. I was shocked. He has super strength. Great. I should have moved out of his way because the second he got one hand free, I was webbed against a truck.

"For the record," he said, getting up in my face. "It's Spider-Man." He swung off into the airport through a glass window. I watched the glass rained onto the ground. Taking a deep breath, I quickly removed myself from the webs. I needed a plan. A strategy. I thought about at the opposing team. Everyone was scattered around the airport. I thought about who would be easiest to fight. But then I realized, the strategy wasn't about how they'd fight, but who. There was no way in hell that my parents or Uncle Rhodey would even think about fighting me. The Black Panther didn't know me, so he was a threat. The worst Vision could do was pick me up and fly away, so he was in thr safe zone. That left the spider. I smiled to myself. Rematch time.

By the time I found Spider-Man, he had already webbed Sam and Bucky to the floor. He was perched on top of a light post, saying something about impressing my father. Sam's mini falcon whizzed past me and grabbed Spider-Man by the web. He got pulled out a window, banging his side into the pane on the way out. I ran over to Sam and Bucky. Quickly, I destroyed the webbing and helped them up. They both gave me a quick "Thanks kid," before running back out. I followed them, staying loose on their trail.

Once I got outside my eyes scanned the area for the Spider. I saw Wanda piling cars on my father and Natasha fighting Clint. Then I spotted him, fighting Cap. He was underneath a jet bridge . Cap threw his shield at the support beams and the whole thing fell on top of Spider-Man. He caught it of course, but Cap ran away. I formed my plan.

"Hey!" I called out. I walked around the collapsing jet bridge. I stood in front of the struggling boy. Or man, I didn't know. "Remember me?"

"Heh, how could I forget such a pretty face," he grunted, starting to fold under the weight of the jet bridge. "You wanna give me a hand?" I glared at his face comment, but lifted the jet bridge anyway. He ran out and I let it fall. Both of us stopped for a minute, gasping for breath beside the rubble. He was close enough to hit. So I did. Without warning I threw a punch of air at him. It hit him right in the chest and he got blown back into the side of a van. "What the hell man?" He got up and shot a web at me. I dodged and threw another gust of wind. It shot him out of the air. He webbed at a pole and swung past my face. I redirected his gravitational pull, but not before he got a kick to my face. We both got thrown in different directions. I landed hard on the ground, pain shooting up my spine. I got up first, now angry. Forgetting about my powers, I lunged at him and threw a punch. I missed and he shot webs at my feet, holding me down. Immediately, I dissolved them and Spider-Man's eyes widened. Well, his mask's eye holes did anyway.

"How did you do that?" He yelled. "What kind of witchcraft-"

"Its not witchcraft," I spat. "It's called manipulation of the elements, look it up. I figured there had to be some water compound in this and I was right. All I had to do was remove it."

"That's so cool! And how did you do the foot thing earlier? Was that just the wind you do or do you have telekinesis too? Are you like the Scarlet Witch?" He rambled on. I took this to my advantage and caught him off guard. I used the van he'd hit earlier to become his gravitational pull and yanked. He went slamming into it and groaned. When he tried to get back up, I was already five steps ahead of him. Morphing the earth metals in the van, I contorted it into a shell that crushed Spider-Man until he was covered and stuck.

I heard Scott say that he was gonna tear himself in half over the earpiece. I got distracted from holding Spider-Man down and turned to see a giant Scott. Spider-Man broke free. He tore the shell off himself and threw it at me. I was wacked across the side and fell the the ground again.

"Holy shit!" he says, looking at Scott. His back was to me and I gave him one last wind push. He fell on his face and I laughed. "Oh come on, don't you have some dolls to play with or something?" I just scoffed and walked past him, stepping past his hand that was on the ground. He let out a yelp and you kept walking. Dolls, I thought. I'm thirteen I don't play with dolls. I watched as the rest of the battle went down. I wasn't quite sure what to do. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Natasha was standing just behind me. "Come with me." We started jogging off. It was natural for me to listen to her. I realized about five seconds in that technically she was my enemy right about now, but I shrugged it off. I ran through the fight, past the big Scott and towards a warehouse. I could see the outline of a jet get bigger as I approached it. Natasha stopped behind the entrance. She was waiting.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We wait to fight," She replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. I came to realize this probably means I would be fighting her. Maybe she wanted to use me as a hostage or something. No, that's silly. Right?

Steve and Bucky got closer to the building I was in. They nearly made it until Vision laser beamed the shit out of a nearby communications tower. Wanda caught it before it fell, giving the two men time to race towards the jet. I stepped out to help Wanda. The both of us were able to hold the rubble long enough for Steve and Bucky to get through. I panted, proud of myself for getting this far.

A searing pain sliced through my brain. Both myself and Wanda fell to the ground, screaming. I could barely look up to see that Rhodey was sending some sort of wave through the air. The tower fell and Natasha was quick to haul me out of the way before I got crushed. I might be better than Spider-Man, but I definitely don't have his super strength.

Steve and Bucky still managed to get through the falling paces of metal and concrete. Natasha left my side and marched swiftly towards the two men. I couldn't hear them, but I could sense the tension from a mile away. Natasha lifted her arm, taser aimed and ready. Steve held his shield up in defense as Natasha shoots....the Black Panther? I guess she's on our side now? The jet started to take off and you watch an Natasha continues to battle the Panther. I fell to my side, wiped out.

My father flew into the warehouse just as the jet leaves. You thought maybe he was going to fight Natasha for betraying him. I was wrong. He was coming for me. He landed beside me and dropped to his knees. His helmet closed and I could see the worry plastered on his cut up face. He knelt beside me and gently held me up.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded, not really able to make words. He looked over at Natasha, who was looking at us. She had an apologetic look, but I know she doesn't regret letting Cap go. My father let me go and charged off after the jet plane. I lied down, enjoying the feeling of cold concrete against your skin. I closed my eyes.

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

I paced around the living room, driving Nat crazy. I knew that the second my father got home I would be in deep shit. So when Friday alerted me that Tony was home my heart rate went up 29373%. The battle, this fight, it ended worse then I could have imagined. Natasha told me that my father could have died. Rhodey was paralyzed from the waist down. I had no idea if I'd ever see my Pops again. This was bad. Very, very bad.

I slowly walked down the main hall towards the front doors. I was scared. My hands and the back of my neck were sweating. I knew exactly what was coming. Every time I had asked my dad if I could be an honorary Avenger, I got the same lecture. That it was too dangerous, I didn't have the proper training and it's too much for his little girl to handle. Even when I asked to just be a part of the business side of the team, Tony laughed and said no. I've broken a lot of my father's rules, but this was the line. And I had gone so far over.

As I approached the front door, I could hear my father speaking. I heard another voice too. My heart dropped. It was Spider-Man. Why was Spider-Man here? I ducked behind a wall and listened in to the conversation.

"...outstanding job kid. Your fighting technique was on par. And, listen, I know we're not allowed to have kids on this team, but if we need you again, we'll call." I heard my father say.

"Thanks Mr. Stark. This was so cool," Spider-Man replied. I wondered if he had his suit on or not. I wanted to know who this guy was. I revealed myself from behind the wall. The two looked at me. I looked at my father first and fought the urge to burst into tears. He looked awful. His face was all cut up and the black eye he got was still a little swollen. I glanced at the figure beside him and frowned. Spider-Man was a kid. He looked like he was my age. He had a mop of curly brown hair and doe eyes. He was almost equally as beat up as my dad and I gracefully took credit for that.

"Y/n, this is Peter. He's, uh, one of my interns. Kid, this is Y/n," Tony said. My annoyance turned to anger. Now my father was lying to me?

"How old are you?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I knew that I sounded rude, but this kid had kicked me in the face twice. I didn't think he deserved my manners.

"I'm fourteen," Peter gulped. A year older than me. And I kicked his ass, I thought. "You gave me quite a fight back in Berlin."

"Yeah and I beat your ass doing it."

"Speaking of which," Tony spoke up, "I have to talk to Y/n about that. Happy will take you home Peter." Peter nodded and said goodbye to my father. He said goodbye to me, to which I didn't reply. Peter frowned at that as he walked out the door.

My dad turned to me when the door shut. "What," he began, "were you thinking?"

"Well I-"

"No. This is where you listen. Do you know how dangerous that mission was. Do you know how many people got hurt? You saw what happened to Rhodey, that could have been you!"

"But it wasn't" I retorted.

Tony's frown deepened. "That is not the point. You put yourself in serious danger, and for what? So you could feel a little more included? You could have died. This was my one rule, my one ask of you, and your broke it."

"Oh, come on now, I'm a Stark, it's in our blood to not listen to our fathers." My father gave me the coldest look and I shut down. I took a deep breath. "Look, I didn't know that it was gonna be this bad. You know me, daddy, I'm not a fighter, I'm not some hero. You think I would have gone if I knew it would turn out like this? I thought this was just gonna be another one your you and Pops' stupid fights. And yes, I could have gotten hurt, but I think I handled myself pretty well. You saw what I did you that little protege of yours. I beat him to the curb."

"Y/n you were reckless. Peter was prepared for this, he was ready."

"And I still beat him."

"Y/n you're not listening to me. This is why I chose Peter over you. I would have taken you if I knew you wouldn't do something stupid. But you did anyway." And with that he walked away, leaving me, teary-eyed in the front hall.

Tony came by my room later that night to apologize. He said that he was sorry for being harsh, that he just cared about me and I scared him. I knew he meant it and I forgave him, because that's what we do. Besides, it wasn't Tony I was angry with. This is why I chose Peter over you. Tony's words echoed through my head. I knew that he loved me more, I'm his daughter, he had to. But I were jealous. Jealous that stupid Peter Parker got the praise for the work I've wanted to hear for ages. And mad at that stupid spider for being stupid.

This is when I decided that I hate Peter Parker.

[ducknotinarow]

It looked like he was stuck there for awhile. Leonardo didn't know exactly how to get back to his dimension unless he came across their Donnie that knew dimensional travel at least. Well, least he could start looking considering no one had stopped him from stepping further into the lair.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" ( for the start of things- 2k3 Leo & rise!Raph uwu )

| Muse interaction

It was movie night in the lair so everyone was gathered up in the space marathon through some Lou Jutsu flicks this time around but seemed by the fourth film maybe everyone had just gave into the need for sleep. Raph happen to wake up as the credit were rolling loud yawn given out as he paid a moment to look over his brothers and dad. Tempted to just go back to sleep but nah had to snap into that big brother role as he moved up to his feet one by one he was taking his brothers off to bed when he heard something trip in Donnie’s room as he was setting them down to their bed. Curious  as he made his way to the wall of monitor seemed it was for the security of the lair. None of the alerts went off so chances were it was just a rat or something. Still though Raphael went to take a look eyes looking over each screen till he saw someone?

Eyes widen a bit, he just couldn’t understand why nothing tripped when this intruder made their way in, from the looks of it they were coming closer. “Don’t panic Raph“ he says to himself to clam his nerves as he tried to wake Donnie up but no dice. He just groaned and made his way out trying Leo and Mikey but he didn’t have time to wait for them to budge! “Ugh of course it up ta me again! oh im so makin’ em run drill for this!” he said to himself. Making his way out to where he last saw this intruder going. He couldn’t risk them hurting anyone on here. Tonfas in his girp as he made his way to this possible incoming threat. maybe they messed with Donnie’s system somehow? Maybe they were something beyond earth? Raph wasn’t sure if that made sense but he wasn’t positive on how the system worked he just knew Donnie had it set up to go off for outside threats. They had to beef up security recently so if this person could get through? Raph shook his head he couldn’t focus on that he needed to get his head in the game.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" 

Coming up the top of the half pipe when he heard them call out uh little weird wasn’t that? Maybe if this was anyone they would think more than once on this whole situation but this was Raph and he only went with his gut at times and right now his gut was worried about some unknown maybe threat in his home. MAYBE if his brothers weren’t out like fucking logs. Not the time, he gruffs to himself adding to his threat on more training later for them as he stepped out into view.

“Yeah bozo I’m here and I’ll give ya at least to three to either get outta my home or tell me what you doing here in the first place! One” jumping down so he could reach them at the bottom landing near them. Not outright going for an attack more to land his threat. “two thre-” as he moved to stand the snapper froze in place. It was a turtle like him and his brothers but the weirdest part was they were dressed nearly the same. Bandana and ninja gear. He just looked them over a few seconds, arching up his brow as he slowly lowered his arms to show he wasn’t going to attack now. Wait should he still be on guard actually thinking about it? But they had two swords and wore blue? That had to mean something right? It couldn’t just be that much of a coincidence right? “L Leo?” he questions as if somehow this near look alike was his own brother? but well they almost looked like him missing those stripes sure but. Maybe that was why no alert ever went off? Raph turned his attention in the direction of his Leo’s room, he just put Leo to bed so? Looking back to this other Leo, back into a fighting stance just in case as he narrowed his eyes at them. “Alright who are you and why do you sort look like my lil brother?! oh and how did you even get here in the first place?” had to toss that in as well after all had to make sure he got all the information he was going to need. Man he wished Donnie was awake maybe they could explain what was going on even a little?! 

[justanothersecretfangirl]

Can't Outrun the Past (Part 8)

A/N: Okay, I am sorry this has taken so long. My hand and my brain weren't cooperating, and this isn't the most exciting chapter, and it's a bit shorter, but ish is about to hit the fan. Just give it a minute. thanks for reading 🥲

Pairing: ex!Bucky x reader

Warnings: mentions of drug use, alcohol abuse, etc. Sexual assault (if this is something you can't read, skip the italics, please. Take care of you first)

Word Count: 1582

After a near food fight at dinner time (both those super soldiers had it coming), and a night of nightmares, you wake up to the sun glaring in the window and Bruce clicking at his computer near your bed. You stretch, then sit up.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bruce says.

“You didn’t. The sun did,” you say with a chuckle, gesturing toward the light glaring in.

“I can close the blinds?”

“Nah, I’m awake now.” He nods, then goes back to clacking on his computer. “How’s everything look, doc?”

“Very stable, Y/N. You are incredibly lucky.” He looks at you with seriousness in his eyes. “If we didn’t have Narcan, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation, Y/N. I don’t want to underemphasize how close you were to dying.” You nod, looking down at your hands. “Your meetings with Dr. Raynor will continue to be important as we move forward with your recovery.” You nod again, and Bruce goes back to typing on his keyboard. After a few minutes, he squats down next to your bed. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you say, though you weren’t entirely convinced. Somewhere, still, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d run as soon as the Vivitrol wore off. But you didn’t say anything. Bruce nods, and starts unhooking the machine, shutting off the heart monitor and removing the pads from your chest.

It only takes a few minutes before you’re completely unhooked, your IV is out and you are sitting on the edge of your bed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Please let Captain Rogers know that Y/N is ready to leave the med bay.”

“Yes, Dr. Banner.” He walks around the bed and helps you stand up, steadying you as your legs are weak and you almost fall. It feels good to be upright, though. You smile at him as Steve and Bucky walk into the med bay. Their eyes are on you, leaning into Bruce’s arm for support.

“You sure you’re strong enough?” Steve asks as he gets to your side. You just nod.

“Oh, I brought these,” Bucky says, moving to your side. He has a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, different from the last time. He hands them to you with a smile. “I figured you might like to get out of that very attractive gown.” You chuckle and stick your tongue out at him.

You change quickly, all the men turning around to give you privacy, much easier without all the cords and wires. Then, at last, with Bucky on one side and Steve on the other, you walk out of the med bay, hopefully for the last time.

They help you walk toward the elevator, then to the main living quarters. You walk with them to the couch in the living room before sitting down, shaky. Your walk exhausted you and you lean against the back and close your eyes.

“You okay?” Bucky says, squatting down in front of you.

“Yeah. Just a little tired,” you say with a smile, not opening your eyes.

“Okay. You rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” He stands and leans across you to place a kiss on your forehead. Before he stands back up, he whispers, “I love seeing you in my clothes.” Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you try your best to not respond. He stands up and walks away. You sigh, trying to sink further into the couch.

Sometime later, you’re not sure how long or if you even slept, you wake up to the couch next to you shifting. You open your eyes to see Sam Wilson on the opposite end of the couch.

“Good to see you up and at ‘em,” he says with a smile. You smile back. “I know we haven’t really talked much. I’ve been busy with contracts.”

“I know. It’s fine. I haven’t been much fun anyways.” You try to laugh, but it sounds more forced than you like. Sam doesn’t laugh though. He leans back against the back of the couch.

“I knew Freaky Magoo would be there for you, anyways.” You snort at his comment.

“Freaky Magoo?” you ask, humor lacing into your voice.

“He does have a staring problem. You can’t deny it.”

“You’ve got a point, though.”

“Hey!” You laugh at the deep voice behind you. You shift to peek over the couch to see Bucky leaning against the island in the kitchen. He chuckles, then goes back to filling his water bottle. You glance back over at Sam.

“What are we doing tonight, boys?” You melt into the back of the couch and close your eyes.

“Looks like you’re going to bed, Y/N,” Sam says with a chuckle.

“Nah, I’m a real party animal.” As the words leave your mouth, you wish you could bring them back, but you shake your head. “That wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny, in a twisted kind of way,” Sam says, and you chuckle.

“I’m nothing if not a little twisted,” you all but whisper.

“Aren’t we all?” Bucky says, flopping onto the couch between you and Sam, instantly lightening the mood. You would thank him if he didn’t keep talking. “I say we watch a movie. We used to have movie nights all the time.” The boys talked about what movie to watch, and, at some point in the conversation, Steve came in, flopping on the other couch in the main room. You barely noticed him coming in, your eyes still closed.

“Okay,” you say, your eyes still closed. “It’s been a long time since I watched a movie.” As it turns out, it would be even longer, because, as the opening scene was playing on the huge TV, you fell asleep, your head slipping onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey,” you vaguely hear, someone shaking your shoulder slightly. You groan, not wanting to move. “Y/N. Let’s get you in bed.” It’s Bucky, you realize but you push his hands away, making him chuckle. “Come on Sleeping Beauty.” He stands up, and you all but flop onto the couch as he moves. “You leave me no choice,” Bucky says, laughter in his voice. You feel his large hands under your torso and legs, and he lifts you up easily. You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. He hums softly, and his swaying footsteps lull you back to sleep.

Lights. Bright lights blind you. Bodies sway and bump into you and you can’t make yourself care. Sweat drips from your forehead, hair, down your back. You grind up against someone behind you.

“Let’s get out of here, baby,” a deep voice whispers in your ear.

“What do I get out of it?” you yell above the pulsing bass filling the room. A chuckle rumbles through the man’s chest, vibrating against your back still smashed up against his front.

“What about this?” he says, holding a white pill in front of your face. You spin to face him. You vaguely think you should ask what it is, but you don’t care, honestly. You stick your tongue out and the man places the white pill on your tongue. You swallow it easily. He grabs your hand and pulls you along with him, out the door, and onto the back of his motorcycle. You hold onto his torso as he weaves in and out of traffic, toward the skeevy apartment complex you both call home, his 3rd floor apartment only 2 floors below your own. It takes a few minutes, but soon, calm and quiet washes over you. The world around you melts away.

After he pulls up to the apartment complex and parks his bike, you all but fall off the side of it, your already short dress hiking up, and you giggle.

“Come on, baby,” the man says, wrapping his arm around you. “Want to have some fun?” He doesn’t even wait for your answer, all but dragging you up the stairs toward his apartment. By the time you get there, your legs are feeling like jello and you can’t make yourself care about anything.

“Here,” he says, running his finger up your thigh. You bristle at the touch, but he takes that to mean anticipation. You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. He places a small patch on the inside of your thigh, almost to your panties.

Almost immediately, your eyes roll back in your head and the only way to describe what you feel is euphoria. Everything in the room slips away into blackness and you welcome it.

Some time later, you aren’t even sure how long, you wake up, your dress pushed up and your underwear no where to be found. The man, Marco, your dealer, lays on the ground beside you, his own pants missing. You try to move, but pain shoots through your abdomen, and you realize all at once what happened. You realize you had been raped and you weren’t even conscious enough to remember it.

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, shaking you awake. Your screams still ring through the room though you don’t realize that you are still screaming. Tears fall down your cheeks and every inch of your body is shaking. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, pulling you into his arms, and you try to push him away, but he doesn’t move. “I got you. You’re safe now.” You scream at him and his grip falters."Let me go, please! Please!" He does as you ask and you all but fall off the bed and run into the bathroom, closing the door behind you."Y/N!" Bucky yells after you, but you press your back against the door and slide down it, sobs wracking through your body. "Y/N, open the door please?" Bucky's voice is sad at first, but he repeats himself over and over, each time sounding more and more frustrated. "Damn it, Y/N. Open the door." He slams his hand on the door, and you scream in response. After a few minutes, you hear him sigh through the door. "Please, Y/N," he all but pleads. You curl into your knees, your back still against the door. You feel the door shift and, for a moment, you think Bucky is coming through anyways. He could, easily, break the door, but it doesn't move again, and you realize he is probably leaning against the other side. You hear sobs through the door, and yours start again.

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @austynparksandpizza @wtfrae @soccer-100000 @studio-apartment @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark, Day 2!

Today's story is... different. Medical kink, lab sex, milking machines, barebacking, comeplay... it's a real mixed bag. Definitely rated Explicit. 6883 Words.

Here's a link to the story on AO3!

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"Compromised by a Foreign Body"

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Alex knew the way they were going about it was wrong. No matter how many times his father told him the aliens were nothing more than violent, seditious predators from another world, it never sat right. But, when it was time to do his duty, Alex had stepped into line. He’d even managed to pull his best friend, Liz Ortecho, into working in the biomedical lab for Project Shepherd. Being a Manes meant that even in what should be a strict, military hierarchy, Alex was a prince. So he made his own job, helped out where he wanted, and tried to not think about the things he’d done or seen when he went home at night.

“Alex, can you help me with the specimen extraction this week? I’m really behind on some notations from last week’s experiments. It would be a great help to me,” Liz said one afternoon. He’d been aimless all day, simply walking around the base to look busy but without an actual task. His stomach clenched, however, at the request. Specimen extraction brought him into very close contact with aliens, and there was one whose eyes never seemed to stay on the ground where they belonged. There was one whose eyes followed him, seeming to see through his fatigues and tracing every line of his body underneath.

“The females and males?” Alex asked, clearing his throat to get rid of his nerves. Liz gave him a curious look at the show of anxiety. She knew him well. She could tell this wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“Just the males. I just need a semen specimen. We’re seeing what happens if we crossbreed them with human female eggs and how that effects the DNA and RNA structures of any resulting hybrids. Just grab the three youngest and put them in the collection rooms. One sample from each should be plenty,” Liz went on, already returning to her microscope slides and file notations. Alex made sure to keep his face neutral as she glanced up to studied him while giving her instructions. He nodded shortly and left the lab, already mentally listing the tasks he’d need to perform in order to do a collection.

Alex had been given basic medical training when he’d been taken on at Project Shepherd. It was explained that at any point, one of their captives might have to be taken down with an injection if brute force was inadvisable. He’d also received extensive hand-to-hand combat training. Alex had found it interesting that de-escalation techniques hadn’t been taught as part of his training before coming onto the base. So far he’d only had to use the bare minimum of force to get his job done. He’d turned into something of a Jack-of-all-trades, however, when it came to medical or scientific technical procedures.

First, he stopped by the captive holding area and signaled his brother Flint over from the guard station. Flint gave him an annoyed scowl, but came over to where Alex was waiting.

“What’s up?” Flint asked, always informal to Alex by way of blood. If their father had seen, Flint would’ve been disciplined. Alex, though younger, outranked Flint and therefore should always be treated with the respect of a superior officer. Alex didn’t care as much. Flint was a stooge and would never be more than a glorified prison guard. His pantomimed respect wasn’t needed for Alex to know he was above him. But Alex knew if their father saw Flint being too familiar at work, he’d chastise him with a fist.

“I need male captives Max, Michael, and Noah to specimen collection,” Alex informed Flint formally. Flint gave him a speculative grin, but didn’t say anything. He nodded and went back to the guard desk to inform the other two soldiers on duty. Alex saw them share a glance and chuckle as Alex started towards the pharmacy. His next task was to pick up some Tri-Mix injection and then to make sure a few rooms were set up with the correct equipment for the procedure.

Alex tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The laughing of the other soldiers needled at him in the back of his mind. He’d done this job a few times, but he didn’t take any pleasure from it. If the other guys could see what was involved in the process, maybe they’d realize that it wasn’t as sexy a scenario as they imagined. Maybe if Alex wasn’t gay, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. Maybe if the aliens looked more… well… alien and not just like humans, it could’ve just been an abstract curiosity, a shitty work detail. They would’ve just commiserated with him for drawing the short straw. But he was gay, and they didn’t understand what happened behind the closed doors of the extraction rooms and these three aliens in particular were very attractive by human standards. He shuddered to imagine what deprived fantasies they’d built around him and the aliens. This only happened, of course, when he had to work with the males.

He made his way to the long hallway of rooms they used for technical procedures. Alex looked through the monitors over the tech’s shoulder at the monitoring station. Only one room was in use currently, and it looked like an autopsy was taking place. Alex grimaced inwardly to think they’d lost another alien to the ravages of time.

“Anything scheduled in rooms 5, 7, or 9 for the next hour?” Alex asked the monitor tech quietly. The soldier blinked up at him, as if just now aware someone else was in the small room with him. He cleared his throat and picked up the scheduling clipboard from the corner of his desk. Alex’s eyes strayed back to the occupied room, and he watched with sick fascination as things were taken out of the alien’s abdomen and loaded into bowls.

“Uh, looks like they’re free. Need to book ‘em, sir?” the young soldier asked, remembering protocol at the last moment.

“Yeah. Captain Alex Manes. Max, Michael, and Noah are being brought in for specimen extraction,” Alex told the soldier for his notes. He nodded and wrote down the details on his paper copy of the schedule. He’d type it into the online schedule later as well as any observational notes. With a last glance towards the wall of screens, Alex left the room and went to get the equipment cases out of storage.

Each case held a milking machine which included a cylinder with a latex liner, a connector hose, and a suction machine. Alex placed one in each room and plugged in the power supply to the suction machine so it could start warming up. He rifled through the cabinets that lined each room’s walls and found the lubricant, prostate stimulation equipment, and massage wands. He’d never needed to use the extras, but something about their presence made him feel like he was actually there to do a job. The machines would do most of the work. He was really just there to monitor and make sure the samples were collected and labeled correctly for Liz.

As he was just double-checking all his equipment, Dr. Valenti walked into the room he was in. Alex turned and eyed his ex-best friend warily. Kyle had been making strides towards repairing their friendship, but Alex was still skeptical.

“Hey man. Liz said you were doing a collection. I brought you the Tri-Mix injections. Mind if I help out?” Kyle asked, showing him the preloaded injection pens.

“Sure, I guess. There’s not much to do. Just inject them, sleeve them, turn on the milkers, and go get a cup of coffee until the sensors go off,” Alex said flippantly.

“You don’t do any manual or electrical stimulation before you sleeve them?” Kyle asked, sounding a bit shocked. Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly. He didn’t want to admit that manual and electrical stimulation felt like he was crossing a line somehow. He logically knew these were not humans with human feelings or cultural constructs about consent, but in his own mind it was a step too far. The injection made it medical, but if he actually started probing and touching… then it might just be what those soldiers at the containment area thought it was. Kyle must’ve read his thoughts, because he clapped Alex on the shoulder and gave him a patronizing grin.

“You get better samples if you stim them. I can show you on one if you like? Just so you can see it’s not what you think it is,” Kyle offered, squeezing Alex’s shoulder affectionately. Alex absolutely did not want to see… except that he did. He was going to hell for it, but he was curious. In fact, he was fucking fascinated, and he hated himself for it.

“I mean, if you’ve got the time?” Alex said, trying to give Kyle an out.

“Hey, what’s the joke about doctors and always being busy except they’re really golfing? Think of this as my golf break. I’m getting out of the clinic and getting to do something fun for a little while,” Kyle said with a laugh.

As if on cue, the sound of wheels in the hallway alerted them that the captives had arrived. Alex turned to see two men rolling in Max, the largest physically of their aliens, already naked and strapped to a gurney, gag in his mouth (to protect him from biting his tongue while coming off any medications used during the procedure). Alex felt a quick flash of rage that they hadn’t left him clothed or thrown a blanket over him. The guards placed his gurney in the middle of the room, locked the wheels, saluted to Alex and Kyle before they left. Alex watched Kyle’s eyes rove up and down Max’s body covetously. Max had been gagged and given a mild, but quickly dissipating sedative. Alex could tell that he was relatively aware of where he was, but couldn’t fight the bonds. He hardly did, even when the sedative wore off.

“Here, let’s reposition him a little. If we’re going to stim him, I need to have better access to his body. Did the guards flush their systems before they brought them up?” Kyle asked, already unstrapping one of Max’s legs. He reached under the gurney and pulled out a heel stirrup that he gently placed Max’s foot in before re-securing him for safety. He did the same with Max’s other leg, spreading him wide.

“Uh….,” Alex started, completely out of his depth. He looked up at Max who met his eyes and nodded, color infusing his cheeks like a blush. Kyle was finishing with the other foot when Alex finally answered. “Yeah. They did.”

“Good. That means I don’t have to,” Kyle replied with a laugh. He was transforming the gurney from a long bed into practically a chair in front of Alex’s eyes. Alex had no idea the gurneys had so many bells and whistles on them. With his legs spread wide, hips strapped down to the table, and naked, Max looked utterly exposed to them. Kyle was leaning over Max’s upper body, using a pen light to check his responses. “God, the meds they have now are remarkable. He’s already becoming cognizant again!”

“Yeah, they come to pretty quick,” Alex remarked dryly while he watched Kyle do a quick examination, checking reflexes.

"Let's get some gloves on and I'll show you what I mean about the manual stimulation. If he doesn't react, we can always give him the Tri-Mix, but this can sometimes remove the need to even use it," Kyle explained, moving over to the instrument cart and pulling out two pairs of non-latex gloves. He and Alex snapped them on and Kyle rolled the instrument cart over to beside the table. He grabbed a rolling stool that had been left in the corner of the room from another procedure and sat himself down between Max's spread legs. Alex could see Max's confusion as he lifted his head to try and see what Kyle was doing.

"Okay so," Kyle started, drawing Alex's attention back from Max's dark eyes to where he was covering two fingers in a copious amount of lubricant. Alex watched as he used the non-lubricated hand to spread Max's ass cheeks and expose his dusky, puckered hole. Max's leg muscles flexed against their restraints at the feeling. "Just like with human males, these guys have got something like a prostate. You'd stim it the same way you would for a human."

"I usually like my partners to be hard before I go sticking things into their asses," Alex mumbled, trying for a joking tone. Kyle beamed up at him.

"That would be preferable. But if that's the problem, you can stimulate the prostate first and the penis should start getting erect after. Have you worked with these captives before? Do you know if this one is able to get hard without the injection?" Kyle asked. He still held Max's cheeks open, exposing him as he carried on his conversation with Alex. Alex risked a glance up to see that Max was staring resolutely at the ceiling, flushed but stoic to his treatment. Alex wished they were allowed to speak with the captives and that they didn't have to stay gagged when out of confinement. He'd just ask Max if getting hard was an issue, or if it was just the degradation of being used as a lab rat that kept him flaccid.

"I don't know. Like I said, I've never tried to stim them before suctioning. Max has never come in already hard, but his body responds well to the Tri-Fix," Alex replied, trying to ignore the fine tremors he could see in Max's stomach muscles. Kyle was rubbing a thumb in contemplative circles over Max’s hole, spreading the lube from his fingers and almost seeming unaware of what he was doing as he and Alex talked.

"I bet he can! He's a hell of a specimen. Before we try the prostate, let's see if he responds to some other stimulation," Kyle said with an excited clap. He stood up abruptly and walked to the side of the table. Alex stood on the other side, promising himself he would be polite and watch but wouldn't participate. Kyle took his time looking over Max's physique. In a familiar gesture, he set his hands high on Max's chest.

"Hey handsome," Kyle crooned. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down Max's chest, trailing his fingers lightly over the skin. Max darted his eyes to Alex in obvious confusion and alarm. Kyle followed his gaze. "Ignore him. I'm going to take care of you today."

Alex let his eyes slip away and back down to Kyle's hands. They smoothed over Max's skin, down over his ribs and stomach, then back up so his thumbs could tease lightly over Max's dark pink nipples. Max shifted under Kyle's attention.

"You've got to convince the blood to come up to the surface of the skin," Kyle murmured to Alex while he kept eye contact with Max. Kyle started to rub over Max's nipples more firmly, stroking over the tightening nubs. Pleased with their erectness, he hummed thoughtfully before trailing his hands down to rest on Max’s hipbones. Alex noticed the uptick in Kyle’s breathing and dilation in his eyes as he moved one hand to cup Max’s cock. He rocked the heel of his hand gently before circling his thumb and first finger around the shaft and stroking. Max’s body started to respond to the attention, his cock plumping up in Kyle’s grip as he kept stroking over him smoothly.

“That’s it,” Kyle cooed encouragingly. Max shifted under him as much as he could, head pressed back against the gurney and staring resolutely towards the ceiling. His face was flushed and the red stain seemed to be moving down towards his chest the harder he got. Alex jumped when a hand came into his view suddenly. “Put some more lube on my fingers.”

Alex obeyed Kyle’s order and watched him push one slick finger into Max’s hole, making the alien jump in surprise. Expertly, Kyle crooked his finger and within a few searching thrusts was able to locate Max’s prostate. Alex glanced up to check Max’s cock and was surprised to find him almost painfully engorged. Kyle followed his line of sight and smiled, turning to look at Alex triumphantly.

“Told you man, nothing to it. Hand me the suction canister and we’ll get him hooked up and pumping.” Alex shuddered at the excitement in Kyle’s voice, the eagerness, but he did was he was asked. As soon as the canister was lowered over Max’s cock, cool plastic resting against his belly, Kyle flipped a switch to began low suction. Max’s cock jerked in response to the tight pressure build and release of the machine, and Alex heard a low groan escape from behind his gag. Kyle had managed to work two fingers into his hole while Alex had watched the machine begin its work and was thrusting them in time with the machine. A glance further down and Alex could see the solid outline of Kyle’s own cock straining against his scrub pants.

“Uh, I’m going to go get started on one of the other captives,” Alex spoke up, feeling awkward at continuing to stand by the scene in front of him. Kyle gave him a friendly smile, fingers and wrist still working away.

“Sure, go do Michael. Noah, from what I understand, is a tougher case and I’d like to commit my full attention to him. After this, we can go do lunch if you want?” Kyle offered easily. Alex nodded and made a non-committal sound before turning and quickly exiting the room. He wasn’t fast enough to not hear Kyle murmuring softly to Max before he left. “You’re doing so good, Max. Look at these balls, man. You’re going to give up a big load for us today, huh?”

Alex wished he could bleach his brain.

He quickly closed the door behind him and moved towards the room he knew Michael to be in. He’d seen Michael around the compound. He was hard to miss with his curls, sharp smile, and sad eyes. Alex had tried to ignore him, but he found himself more and more aware of him each time they crossed paths. When he entered the exam room to find him naked and conscious, strapped and gagged the same as Max on the gurney, he flushed hot with a mix of embarrassment and want. He shut the door quietly behind him.

“Hey Michael,” Alex greeted him quietly. Michael’s eyes roved up and down his body, undressing him, challenging him despite his position. Feeling exposed, Alex moved towards the gurney slowly. The closer he got, the more of Michael’s body he could see. His cock was nestled serenely against his balls, a short, dark thatch of hair surrounding his groin and leading up his stomach and over his chest. Alex wanted to run his fingers through the hair, tangle himself in it, bury his face against it… but he knew that was inappropriate. No matter how attractive he found him, the alien was not in any position to consent to anything, and Alex knew it. He was still tempted, however.

To try to hide the awkwardness he was feeling, Alex busied himself with positioning the cart next to the gurney. He gloved up and reached for the lube, immediately dropping it when Michael cleared his throat next to him. The bottle clattered loudly on the metal cart, knocking the milking canister onto the ground. Alex fumbled to try to catch it before it rolled too far away. A knock sounded at the door and one of the guard’s voices came through.

“You okay, sir?”

“I’m fine!” Alex called back, face flaming in embarrassment. He looked at Michael who gave him a smug and superior grin around the obstruction in his mouth. Alex set the canister back on the table and bent over Michael to hiss at him. “Don’t be a dick!”

Michael gave him a raised eyebrow in response as if to say ‘who, me?’

“Yes, you,” Alex snapped. He moved back over to the table and picked up the lube again. Again, Michael pointedly cleared his throat. Alex abruptly turned to look at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?!”

Michael just looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to catch up. With a huff, Alex moved to block the view of the camera and loosened the gag enough to slide it out of Michael’s mouth. He watched Michael moved his jaw around and swallow convulsively a few times, resisting the urge to get him some water, while he waited for Michael to speak.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, trying to put steel into his voice to cow Michael’s nonchalant, almost playful attitude.

“I was going to say, you could at least buy me dinner before you start sticking probes into me,” Michael replied, his voice rough but steady. Alex stared at him incredulously.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asked, unable to stop himself. Shock was an adequate description for how he was feeling about this turn of events.

“No. I am flirting with you, private,” Michael replied, giving Alex another once over before continuing. “How am I doing?”

“This is the least sexy situation I could possibly imagine being flirted with in,” Alex answered flatly.

“Well, you refuse to come visit me in my cell, so this is what I’ve got to work with. Besides, you’re about to have to get me hard enough to spurt for science. Maybe you should work on your bedside manner.” Alex stared down at Michael on the table. His eyes moved down to his exposed cock, still flaccid, and then over to the milking machine on the table. His ears felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. After all, I could always just inject you with Tri-Fix if you don’t want to get hard naturally,” Alex countered, trying not to let how flustered he was feeling show through in his voice. Michael gave him a frankly filthy grin in response.

“With the right stimulation, I’ve never had a problem getting hard naturally. Besides, have you ever had one of those tubes on your dick before?” Michael whistled low in apparent appreciation. “Science is wonderful. I’m all for science.”

“No, I’ve never--” Alex started, affronted at the mere idea that he would use government property for his own pleasure that way.

“Maybe you should climb up here and give it a try….” Michael suggested in a conspiratorial tone.

“There’s no way. There are cameras in here,” Alex protested, wondering why he wasn’t shoving the gag back in Michael’s mouth and getting on with the sample collection.

“I can fix that, ya know. These drugs they have us on dull my powers quite a bit, but I’m still pretty good at shorting out electronics when I need to,” Michael countered. He rushed on as Alex opened his mouth to respond. “You can keep me tied down. You can, uh… manually… collect your sample for the lab from me and take a spin on the suck tube at the same time.”

“I could never…” Alex protested weakly. He hated that he was even considering it. He didn’t know what Michael’s plan was, but he was pretty sure getting his dick sucked by a robot was not acceptable protocol under any circumstances.

“You can gag me again if you want to keep me quiet,” Michael said, voice almost a purr. Alex contemplated the idea, eyes straying from Michael to the milking canister and then surreptitiously up towards where the cameras were. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Curiosity and hormones. This close he could smell the petrichor and salt scent of Michael’s skin and make out the green flecks hidden amongst the amber of his eyes.

“If you can take out the cameras…” Alex started, but before he could finish he heard a faint cry of dismay from the observation room. Panicking, Alex shoved the gag back into Michael’s mouth and hoped to God it hadn’t been visibly out on the video. A second later, one of the monitor techs came into the room looking thunderous.

“Everything okay?” Alex asked the tech who had grabbed a chair and angrily shoved it into a corner. He started to climb up onto the seat, his eyes trained on the small dome on the ceiling that held the camera.

“This fucking piece of shit. Always shorts out on me. Goddamnit,” he cursed, removing the protective dome to look at the wiring beneath. He cursed again and hopped down, coming over to stand in front of Alex. “I’m going to have to replace the whole thing. Something major burned up. Do you want to postpone this procedure or--”

“No!” Alex cut in, his voice sharply cutting off the tech. The tech gave him a wide-eyed look. “I just… I’m not going to have time later. Look, he’s secured down. There are guards outside the door. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to cause me any trouble, will you?”

Alex directed the last question at Guerin who looked between him and the tech and lolled his head as if he were still slightly dopey. The tech squinted at him, but seemed to take the act at face value.

“Fine. Just give me a heads-up when you’re done so I can get in here. And don’t fucking undo any of those straps, got it? They’re there for your protection!” Alex gave him a grave nod and the tech turned and strode out of the room. As soon as the door snicked shut behind him, Alex turned and stared wide-eyed at an obviously unrepentant Michael. Alex removed his gag again, bending close to his ear before speaking.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will have you thrown into solitary for a week," Alex threatened in a low voice. It felt empty because he knew if Michael told anyone, his father would find him and put him in a hole in the ground. There was something about Michael's offer though… a feeling between them that made Alex sure the risk would pay out.

"I won't tell," Michael replied quietly. There was a sadness in his voice that pierced Alex's heart and he moved to be able to see Michael's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, each searching for something needed but fragile and better left silent between them. Alex ended their silent back and forth by bending down and pressing their lips together. It was sweet and chaste, a seal for their understanding, and when he pulled back he felt like their bargain was solidly struck. Quietly, Alex moved the extra chair from the corner under the broken camera and wedged it under the doorknob. When he turned back to face Michael, he immediately began to unbutton his shirt enough to pull it and his undershirt off over his head. He leaned against the table to tackle his boots, pants, and prosthesis. With an embarrassing lack of grace, Alex proceeded to climb onto the gurney and straddle Michael's thighs.

Michael's eyes were wide and darkened with lust as they scanned over Alex’s naked body. He looked hungry in a way Alex was all too familiar with. Alex noted to his smug relief that Michael’s cock had gotten half hard at his striptease and was growing firmer beneath him. Without a word, Alex reached over and grabbed the lube bottle, squeezing some into his palm before slicking Michael's cock with it. The friction made Michael groan quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as Alex stroked him with a firm hand and brought him to full hardness. Alex’s own cock was beginning to throb and ache with neglect, but he didn't want to touch himself too soon. The risk of the situation was turning him on almost as much as Michael beneath him, his hips flexing into Alex’s grip in aborted thrusts.

Alex let go of Michael and lifted onto his knees. Keeping eye contact with Michael, he took his still slick hand and reached behind himself to push two fingers into his hole. It was almost too much too soon, but Alex liked the burn and needed this part to go quick. He didn’t realize his eyes had slipped shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the stretch and pressure of his digits as he rocked his hips back and twisted his fingers to make the stretch go faster.

"Oh shit," Michael breathes out beneath him. Alex opened his eyes and pinned Michael with a hard stare before swooping down to kiss him again. This kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't chaste or simple. Alex licked at the seam of Michael's mouth once and barely gaves the other man time to accept him before he was pushing his way in. If Michael was hungry, Alex was fucking starving. Not that he’d gotten a taste, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Michael moaned into their kisses, his body shifting restlessly, claiming as much movement as he could against the restraints.

"Shhhh," Alex warned, breaking their kiss. He shuffled forward enough to be able to reach behind himself and grasp Michael's cock. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as he pressed the blunt tip to his wet hole. Biting his lip, Alex forced his body to relax and accept Michael's generous girth. It was almost too much and after a few slow drags where he only managed to shove a few inches at a time into himself, Alex pulled off and added more lube. The next time he pushed down, it was like his body just accepted Michael and made room accordingly. Both he and Michael let out harsh, gutted breathes when Alex managed to fully sheath Michael inside him.

"Fucking christ," Alex groaned, trying to stay quiet but already feeling his body scream for him to start fucking himself stupid on the perfect cock stuffed in him. Beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, Michael nodded and Alex watched as his hands and fingers flexed in an echo of Alex's own need to move. Slowly, Alex began to rock his hips and get his first exquisite taste of the pull and push of Michael's cock lighting up his insides. Wrapping a hand around his cock, Alex noted how wet and messy his shaft was from the leaking precum drooling out of the tip. He used that wetness to ease the way as he stroked himself lightly in time with the undulations of his hips.

"Please," Michael gasped out beneath him. "Oh fuck, please."

Alex knew what he wanted, wanted it himself, but also knew they made a plan. Carefully, he reached over to the instrument table and picked up the plastic cylinder end of the milking machine. Inside it was a PVC sleeve that molded itself around the recipient's penis once the suction was started. Then, according to the dials on the machine, the sleeve would go taut and relax with a rhythmic click and hiss, effectually sucking off the wearer until he blew his load and the sample collection sensor went off. The load would then be scraped from the inside of the sleeve and collected into a tube to be given to the lab. Alex knew all of that, had the technical knowledge down pat in his brain, but was unprepared for the foreign feeling of sliding his own cock into the smooth, cool fabric of the milker cylinder. With a barely trembling hand, he pressed the ‘on’ switch and waited for the first pull.

He didn't know what he’d been led to expect, but it wasn't the vice-like, fluid pressure that made his hips hitch forward instinctively to get more of that tight clutching feeling. Alex felt a moan get dragged past his lips, echoed by Michael as he began to fuck forward against the milker and then back onto Michael's cock.

"Oh god," Alex moaned brokenly, curling forward over the cylinder in helpless abandon. The angle pressed Michael's cock hard against his prostate, and Alex indulged himself in a few shallow thrusts that brushed the head of Michael's cock against that spot over and over. His body felt like it was getting expertly rung out, and he now understood why there wasn't more of a revolt against the collection process by the alien captives. They were getting an expert blow job by a robot on the government's dime.

When Alex could drag his eyes open, he looked down and saw his own helpless pleasure echoed on Michael's face. His lips were parted in an "oh" of surprise, eyebrows drawn together like he wasn't sure if he was in pain or in ecstasy, and sweat beaded his hairline and neck. He looked like a ravaged Greek demigod laid bare at Alex's whim. The sight made Alex’s body shudder with a wave of lust for the alien beneath him. He didn’t know if it was because he was alien or because Alex was in the midst of intense pleasure, but he wanted to never leave in that instant.

"Fuck, look at you," Alex couldn't help saying. He pushed back, arching and reaching until he could brace his hands on Michael's legs to grind back down in his prick. The cylinder jut from his groin obscenely between them, position change not effecting its mechanical precision. Michael opened his eyes and stared up at Alex, a look if wonder on his face.

"I wanna touch you," he said, voice quiet enough to almost get lost under the hum of the machine. Alex smirked down at him, feeling fuck drunk and bold at his naked worship.

"Where do you wanna touch me? Tell me," Alex demanded, voice breathy.

"I want to touch your neck. I want to twist my hands in your hair and put you where I want you," Michael said, voice serious like he was in a confessional booth telling his sins. Alex hummed in response, sitting up straight and moving his hands up his chest to his neck and then into his hair.

"Like this?" Alex asked, smiling at the covetous, feral look on Michael's face as Alex acted out his words. He let his eyes slip shut so he could imagine that instead of restrained, Michael was simply dictating his desires to him.

"Yeah. Like that," he agreed. His eyes trailed lower and he began talking again. "I want to rake my nails down your chest. I want to pinch and suck your nipples, abuse your tits until you're begging for me to stop."

Alex let his hands fall from his hair down to his chest. He raked his fingers down the front of his pecs and stomach, not stopping until he was almost at his pubes. He slid his fingers back up to his nipples and plucked at them with savage, twisting, pinching fingers. The zings of pain shot down to his groin, where his balls were drawing up tight to his body, the finish line in sight for him. The rhythm of the machine picked up and Alex opened his eyes in time to see Michael looking intently at the knots that controlled speed and intensity.

"Where else?" Alex gasped, the increased setting of the machine making him tip forward to brace himself with his hands on Michael’s chest, so he could fuck himself harder onto Michael's cock in time. He could see in Michael's face he was getting close too, trying to hold out until Alex busted.

"After I come in your ass, I want you to sit on my face and let me eat you out. I want to taste you and me on my tongue. I wanna watch you squirm, oversensitive and mewling as I tongue fuck you into a second orgasm," Michael managed to say through a gasping, pained groan. His hips were flexing minutely under Alex, trying impotently to reciprocate the harsh pounding he was getting as Alex rode him.

"Fuck!" Alex almost yelled, his body starting to seize at the thought, thrusts going erratic as he rode through his orgasm on with his body on automatic pilot. A beeping sensor on the machine went off and the machine automatically shut itself off. Gingerly, he broke the suction around the base of his cock and slid the cylinder from his body. Feeling wrecked and still impossible full of cock, Alex looked down at Michael who was breathing hard and looking pained at the full stop of their activities. Alex gave him an evil smile when their eyes met.

"Your turn, cowboy," he said. Michael looked at him in momentarily confusion until Alex pulled off his cock with groan. He felt so empty without Michael inside him. He felt like his ass was gaping where his legs were still spread on either side of Michael’s hips. He twisted around and slid the used cylinder over Michael's hard-as-nails prick. Machine in place, Alex reached over and flipped on the machine again, overriding the collection sensor and making sure to turn up the speed to bring Michael off swiftly. He turned back to Michael's face, watching him go from shock to stricken within seconds. Alex bent low, resting some of his body weight on top of Michael’s chest, and mouthing at his jaw and neck. He felt the vibrations of whimpers and quiet moans against his cheek as he nibbled at Michael's ear.

"Once you cum in the cylinder, I'm going to make sure you get a taste of us before I dump the sample due to compromise by a foreign body. That means we'll have to do this again tomorrow. And tomorrow? I'm going to fuck your throat while the machine gets a clean sample from you," Alex whispered into his ear. Michael made an unmistakable noise of release, a tight, gasping sob as his cock was milked dry. The selection alarm chimed again and Alex turned off the machine with an easy flick of his wrist.

Good to his word, Alex twisted and broke the suction of the cylinder. Because of the double load, when he moved it off Michael's cock, he could see their combined spunk coating Michael's length in a pearlescent sheen. Inspired, Alex bent down and dragged his tongue down the length of Michael's softening cock. He turned back to Michael, dumping the cylinder haphazardly onto the instrument cart before sealing his lips over Michael's. Michael opened his mouth hungrily, tongue tangling against Alex's and greedily stealing all traces of their combined flavor for himself. When they broke apart, Alex smiled down at Michael for a moment, giving him one last kiss, before moving off of him and the gurney.

He once again leaned against the side of the gurney and put himself back together. By the time he was completely re-outfitted in his fatigues, his mind was once again on business. He turned and pushed the gag back into Michael's mouth before he could say anything. Michael stared at him in confusion until Alex grabbed a hand towel and laid it over Michael's lap to cover his nudity. He gave Michael a sad smile before he went and removed the chair from in front of the door and stuck his head out into the corridor.

"Captive is ready for transport back to the pen," he called to the guards on duty. He backed away when they came back in the room and unlocked the wheels of Michael's gurney. Michael stared at him in something like betrayal as he was wheeled away. After he was gone, Alex washed out the cylinders sleeve and wrote a note on Michael's chart to schedule him for a second collection the following day.

Alex wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. Now, in the quiet of the empty collection room, he wondered if it had been an elaborate dream. He wondered if he'd wake up soon in his own bed, tired and disoriented and dreading another day of work at Caulfield. He also couldn't deny that what had just happened definitely wasn't a dream if the ache in his muscles and the slick feeling between his ass cheeks were to be trusted. He felt guilty for judging Kyle’s lasciviousness when he couldn’t stop himself from riding his captive like a rodeo bull. Was he as bad as the other guards thought, or was it just Michael? Alex couldn’t imagine doing anything that had just happened to another captive or man that he knew.

One thing was for certain, he was already in too deep to want to stop. He hadn’t come that hard since he’d learned where his prostate was. He just didn’t know how he was going to schedule in more time for him and Michael to see each other after tomorrow. With a sigh, he left the room and went back to his office to think through his actions. A flask of bourbon waited in his desk drawer to help him find the answers.

[ronnie-azumane]

Haikyuu guys as stuff my dad did

This idea has been in my brain for a while, so I'm writing it out. Hope y'all enjoy :)

CW: idn, its pretty wholesome

Daichi answers your frantic phone call home expressing that you forgot your backpack and laptop for college when you went home over the weekend. Expressing that all of your notes are in the backpack, he decides to wake-up extra early Monday morning and make the 2 1/2 hour drive to your university, then drive all the way back to your hometown to go to work.

Sugawara came up with the best hiding spot for you while playing hide and seek at your 7th birthday party. He squeezed you in-between the back of the couch and the back couch cushions. Then, he sat in front of it to conceal the awkward lump it made in the couch. It took the others 30 minutes before giving up and telling you to come out.

Asahi asks you to style his hair for a zoom meeting he has later that day. After some deliberation, you both decide to do a mohawk style. He braces himself as you run off to get the brush, hairspray, hair gel, and hairdryer.

Nishinoya still wears the Annoying Orange shirt you got him when you were in 3rd grade. It's faded and has a giant picture of Annoying Orange on it, which faded from popularity in 2010, but he still wears it. In public.

Tanaka makes the dumbest jokes while in the audience of your colorguard/dance competitions. For example, he asked your mom if he should shout "Go get 'em George" to the group of girls performing to confuse everyone. Another favorite joke o his is to chant "the worm, the worm,, we worship the worm" while the previous team is carrying out their floor.

Ennoshida talks with you as you make one of the biggest changes in your life. Midway through your second semester at university, you determine that business is not for you, however, you do not have a backup plan. Talking with him, you end up changing your major to Geography, and now you love every second of it.

Kageyama drinks the milk out of you cereal. You hate the taste of milk by itself, but you don't want to eat dry cereal. To not waste milk, he drinks it after you finish eating your cereal.

Hinata fails miserably when your mom tells him to reapply the medical glue on your forehead. The day before, your sister threw a wooden block at you, causing a major tear in your head. Your mom took you to the emergency room, but they were busy and it was a school night, so they told her to just take some liquid band aid (which we called glue) and close the wound. Your mom told him to replace the glue, and he took ELMERS GLUE and placed it on the open wound. It hurt like a bitch.

Tsukishima takes you to go see the museum of natural history once a month. He knows you're the odd girl out of your class that would rather play with dinosaurs than dolls, so he takes you to see the dinosaur fossils. He also gets a discount because his place of work donated a significant amount of money and resources to one of the exhibits.

Yamaguchi helped set up your setup once you moved to zoom university. He attached your laptop to a monitor his job had extra, so now you feel like a badass whenever you use the two screens.

Oikawa out of nowhere invites all his high school friends over to stay the week at your house. A trip that probably should have been planned in weeks, even months, is planned in just a weekend. Everyone ends up sleeping on air mattresses and blankets on the floor due to your mom just finishing up replacing the floors in the house (she was not too happy with the sudden trip, but was welcoming anyway)

Iwaizumi makes you watch Godzilla with him whenever it's on TV. Some of his fondest memories include receiving Godzilla themed ornaments from his mom ever Christmas. He also unironically watches those cheesy fan-made Godzilla fights on YouTube for hours on end. Man just likes Godzilla.

Hanamaki and you wear funny hats to a volunteer cookout. The organizers told every one to wear a hat so that their hair didn't get in the food, but you two take it a step further. You wear a banana hat while he wears a hotdog hat.

Matsukawa taught you how to make all kinds of breakfast food at a young age. Whether it was a simple as a fried egg or as complex as French toast, he worked with you until the recipe came out perfect.

Kyotani scares the other parents off when it comes to the silent auction selling the class are projects. Now the shelf you and your kindergarten classmates fingerprinted flowers and bugs on sits proudly in your closet holding crafting supplies.

Ushijima scolds you for leaving the lights on. Most parents do that already, but he takes it to a new extreme. Your mom explains that he would never turn the lights on in his apartment when he was in college and would simply get his homework done before dark. Sometimes, if he had something to do, he would light a candle to finish something up.

Tendou recalls a story in which he stole a bus battery with his buddies to power an air conditioned tent at boy scout camp. He also recalls the year he and his friends tried to build a pool in the wilderness at the same count, only to get caught and reprimanded for it before filling it with water which totally had nothing to do with a camp counselor finding it and having a Vietnam flashback

Goshiki watches anime with you. He always acts like he is uninterested in whatever show is on, but he soon gets super into it and it will be the only thing he talks about for a week.

Kuroo sits at the table with you until 2am working on that math assignment you have been struggling with. You've definitely run out of tears to cry, and had to redo the assignment twice, but he is guiding you through the answers

Yaku isn't a fan of all the pets you and your mom have collected over the years. I mean, in his defense, at one point we had 8 cats an 3 dogs. However, he is also super cuddly with them, always giving them nose boops and belly rubs.

Kenma plays Xbox, Wii, and the ds with you. He doesn't find the bulk of the games you play with him entertaining, but he is willing to run through LEGO Star Wars with you. His personal favorite to play is Mario Kart and he doesn't let you win >:(

Lev is trying to convince the family to let him take the position in Alaska with higher pay. When mom raised the concern that the long winters wouldn't do well for your mental health, his counter argument was, "Yeah, and that sucks, but hear me out. We could have a pet Polar Bear." We didn't move to Alaska

Bokuto was definitely the most enthusiastic dad at the girl scout father daughter dance. He twirled you around in your pretty little JC Penney dress and made sure you two were the center of the dance floor. At one point, he lifted you above his head with each foot in a hand like a cheerleader. Truly terrifying.

Akaashi drives out to the 24-hour pharmacy to pick up some cold medicine when you couldn't sleep due to a stuffy nose. He also checks up on you every hour when you are coughing with some mysterious disease (due to the lack of tests and priority of the high-risk, I will never know if I had Covid when I got sick in late March)

Aone gives you the biggest hug after you get released from the graduation ceremony. He isn't the best with words, so this hug speaks so much to you.

Terushima has been taking you to Mardi Gras in New Orleans since you were a baby. He doesn't care that it's mostly an adult party, he believes that everyone in the family should enjoy a good ol' Mardi Gras

Atsumu carries you on his shoulders all the time when you're small. He just thinks it's the cutest thing.

Osamu makes sure to host a crawfish boil every year. Whether its the neighbors, family, both, or just the household, you can expect some good, spicy crawfish with corn and potatoes whenever he cooks.

Kita teaches you how to drive a stick shift. He's frustrated that you cant move three feet before stalling, but then realizes that the issue was that you were in third gear, not first. He is now impressed that you were even able to start moving at third gear.

Sakusa takes you along with him to work. His job is full of tough men, so when they see him with you in a little blue dress-up tutu and a plastic tiara on your head, their hearts just melt.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 113

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,020ish

Summary/Warning: This chapter is mainly in everyone else’s point of view. The next chapter will be in Y/N’s.

Y/N woke up, already knowing where she was. Her hand immediately went to her stomach as her eyes replayed the fighting she had witnessed. Her heart beat quickened as she relived those terrible moments. The monitors she was connected to warned the medical staff outside. Helen and her nurses rushed in.

“Y/N,” Helen called. “I need you to breathe.”

“My… I… the baby…” Y/n stammered through the struggle. “Is my baby…. It is okay?”

~~~

The waiting would always be the worst for Tony, especially when it came to Y/N. The pacing was paired with the constant worrying and need to be kept busy. So by the time Dr. Cho came out of the med-bay, Tony had developed braces for Rhodey’s now paralyzed legs and FRIDAY was already building them.

Rhodey had joined Tony in the waiting, via wheelchair, with Happy and Pepper joining as well.

“This is not your fault, Tony,” Pepper said, softly. “She made the decision not to tell you about the baby and to go to Siberia.”

Tony chuckled, darkly. “I’m sorry, Pep, but you’re wrong,” Tony retorted. “It’s all my fault… She didn’t say anything because of the Accords. Then I was forcing her to side with me or her brother and her first love…. I know her. She got too caught up in it all…. And that’s my fault. Like everything… My fault.”

“Tony,” Helen called, exiting the med-bay. 

Tony, Happy, and Pepper all stood. Tony rushed up to Helen, hands nervously in front of him and eyes pleading with her already.

“Just tell me, Helen,” Tony said, voice already broken. 

“I’m sorry, it—it didn’t make it, Tony.” Putting a hand over his mouth, he stepped back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my…” Pepper gasped, grasping onto Happy to keep herself up.

“Y/N is…” Helen paused with a sigh. “She’s not taking it well.”

“I want to see her,” Tony stated. “Can I see her?”

“You can. But I don’t know if she’s willing to talk.”

“I don’t care. I just need to be there.”

Helen nodded in understanding. “She’s in the room, second to the right.”

“We’ll be out here if either of you need anything,” Rhodey stated.

All Tony could do was nod before shakily making his way to the room Y/N was being kept in. The blinds were down, so he was unable to peek into the room before entering. His palm was sweating as he placed his hand on the door knob. There was a tenor in his hand as he twisted the door knob. Tony’s heart dropped to his feet in a thousand pieces as his eyes took in the room.

“No.” Tony took a careful, uncoordinated steps to the bed. His knees gave way next to the bed, hands grasping at the sheets. “FRIDAY?”

“I’m sorry, boss. I have no way to track her. Miss Rogers is gone.”

~~~

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” Tony muttered, holding the phone tightly to his ear.

“Stark, I really don’t have time for you—“

“Coulson, I need you to be honest with me… Is Y/N with you?”

“I really don’t think that—“

“Is. Y/N. With. You?”

Coulson paused with a sigh. Tony impatiently waited, tapping his foot as his thoughts ran a mile a minute. His eyes were dry and red from the tears he had allowed himself to shed. The hard exterior shell that the great Tony Stark had built up was crumbling. He had lost his team—his friends, found out the truth about his parents death, and lost the child he didn’t know about all in the same day. And now, he couldn’t find the love of his life, who had to be hurting just as much, if not more, than he was.

“No,” Coulson finally spoke up. “I haven’t seen her. But I’ll let you know if I do.”

“You better not be lying to me, Phil. I…. I need to find her. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’ll send a search out for her and let you know as soon as I see or hear anything… Mind telling me, what happened?”

Tony sighed shakily, covering his eyes with his free hand. “Everything fell apart…. and…. She lost a lot today. Her family… her child…”

“Her child?” Coulson gasped.

“Now you know why it’s important that I find her.”

“Yeah… I do… I’ll keep you updated.”

~~~

Steve and Bucky ran into T’Challa upon leaving the bunker in Siberia. The new King quickly led them to the jet he had taken to follow Tony on. He had found the truth, realizing that it was Zemo who had turned him against Bucky, and had taken Zemo into custody as Tony, Bucky, and Steve were fighting. T’Challa took the men to Wakanda and immediately got Bucky medical attention. The doctors there promised that they could find away to deprogram Bucky and he willingly agreed to go back into cryo until then. 

“You sure about this?” Steve asked Bucky.

“I can’t trust my own mind,” Bucky replied, seated on the medal table. “So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing . . . for everybody… Have you heard anything from Y/N?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let her stay with us.”

“I’m the one that told her to go.”

“What worries me is that she was so weak, that she could’t have gone very far. I honestly hope she somehow made it home with Tony.”

“Just… make sure she’s okay for me, punk. I need her to be okay if I’m going to be able to be okay.”

“Me too… I just hope she will forgive for everything.”

“Forgive you? You’re not the one who killed Howard.”

“But I knew you had and I kept that from her and Tony. I screwed up just as much.”

Bucky went into cryo shortly after his little conversation with Steve. T’Challa met Steve at a window, looking out of Wakanda’s labs.

“Thank you for this,” Steve said.

“Your friend and my father, they were both victims,” T’Challa responded. “If I can help one of them find peace…”

“You know, If they find out he's here . . . they'll come for him.”

“Let them try… I want you to know that I have people out searching for your sister. Since she did not sign the Accords and she is gifted, I fear the governments will be after her as well.”

“Thank you for watching out for her.”

“Of course. Family. That is the most important thing in this world.”

~~~

Tony had people searching for Y/N, 24/7. He was trying his best to help while also focusing on Rhodey’s rehab. The two friends were in the gym at Avengers HQ. Rhodey had the first design of braces on his legs as he tentatively walked beside parallel bars.

“It’s just the first pass,” Tony said.

“Yeah,” Rhodey replied, sweating from trying so hard.

“Give me some feedback. Anything you can think of. Shock absorption. Lateral movement. Cup holder?”

"You may wanna think about some AC down in . . .” Rhodey fell onto his hands, with Tony quickly crouching beside him.

“Let's go. I'll give you a hand.”

“No, no, don't. Don't help me. Don't help me.” He moved to his hands and knees, turning to sit on the floor beside Tony. Tony was clearly feeling the guilt of everything that had happened. “138. 138 combat missions. That's how many I've flown, Tony. Every one of them could've been my last, but I flew 'em. Because the fight needed to be fought. It's the same with these Accords. I signed because it was the right thing to do…. And, yeah, this sucks. This is uh . . . this is a bad beat…. But it hasn't change my mind…. I don't think.” 

Rhodey gave Tony a crooked smile and took his hand. Tony pulled him up onto his feet.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Oh yeah,” Rhodey responded. 

The men were interrupted by a knock on the window. They turned to see an old FedEx delivery man, with a package in his hand. 

“Are you Tony Stank?” The man asked through the window.

"Yes, this is--this is Tony "Stank". You're in the right place,” Rhodey responded, pointing at Tony before turning to walk using the bars. “Thank you for that! I'm never dropping that, by the way. Table for one, Mr. "Stank". Please, by the bathroom.”

Tony laughed before taking the package. He looked at it for a second, almost immediately recognizing the hand writing. He made his way to Steve’s office, still in the perfect condition the man had left it in. Tony opened the box and immediately pulled out a letter labeled, ‘Tony’.

Tony,

I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. Even if Y/N’s with you. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. Y/N and I have been on our own since we were 18. We never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. 

My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. 

I know I hurt you, Tony. And that I hurt Y/N. I guess I thought by not telling you both about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. That Y/N can understand. 

I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should. So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I’ll be there. 

Also, I honestly have no idea where Y/N is. I only have hope that she is safely with you. Please, take care of her. 

Tony dumped the rest of the box onto the table, revealing a flip phone and another note. This was was addressed to Y/N. He picked it up and carefully began opening it.

“Priority call from Secretary Ross,” FRIDAY interrupted. “There’s been a breach at the Raft prison.”

“Yeah, put him through,” Tony responded. He turned to the phone and pressed a button.

“Tony, we have a problem,” Ross stated.

“Ah, please hold.” Tony held up a finger.

“No. Don’t—“ 

Tony put Ross on hold before glancing back at the phone. He knew what Ross’ call meant. Steve had broken into the prison. Sighing, he lifted the note to Y/N back up and began reading it.

Y/N,

I know you well enough to know that no matter what I say in this letter, it won’t change how you are currently feeling. Hurt and betrayed. I hurt you and Tony by keeping the truth about Howard from you. I thought I was protect you, or so I thought. I do realize now that I was only protecting myself. I’m so sorry.

I haven’t heard anything about your welling being or location since Bucky told you to leave the bunker. I’m praying that you’re okay and that you’re safe wherever you are. Even if that’s with Tony. 

I’m sorry that I haven’t really been the best brother since we woke up. I woke up and you seemed to already have either under your belt. Not that any of that is an excuse. I should have done better. And for that I am sorry.

Please reach out to let me know that you’re okay. Or if you need anything. I love you.

Tony set the letter back on desk and hid his head in his hands. Tears sprung in his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Where are you, Y/N? Where are you?”

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[ragingpancake]

I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

[a-lil-perspective]

Nepenthe

Your chest fills with a soft gasp. You uncurl your sleep-infused joints, shifting on your back within the bed. Full, tranquil breaths usher you along. You flicker your gaze over to the chrono. Your lashes bat away a lingering bleariness as you acclimate to your obsidian-colored surroundings. You become acutely aware of a calloused hand nestled in your hairline, a thumb now smoothing away the furrow manifested between your brows.

In the pitch black, you feel his eyes cast heavily over you.

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice is still weak with slumber. You reach out a drowsy hand, intuitively finding his jawline and cradling it. There’s a pause, and then you feel his features rearrange with a smirk underneath your fingertips.

“Distracted by something beautiful is more like it.”

“At this hour?” You hum. “Must be a real work of art.”

“Mhm,” his hand slides down from your hair, tapping your nose on the way before ghosting over your now slightly part lips. “You certainly are.”

Something like a giggle escapes you, and you drape the back of your free hand across your face to hide the silly blush he can’t even see in the shadows inking the midnight room. His warm breaths grow closer, peppering across your skin. You gather yourself, hollowing your cheeks. “Well don’t stay awake on my account. You should rest.”

“Trust me...” his knuckles stroke along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly makes your heart give out. “It’s a good reason to be awake.”

“But not the only reason.” You scale his words footnoted by affection, bypassing directly to the underlying meaning while he proceeds to mouth your neck in lieu of an explanation.

“You had a nightmare,” you whisper after a moment, stifling a shiver and gliding your fingers through his hair unbound from its usual crimson accessory.

He shakes his head, forcing a reassuring smile. “They don’t visit me when I’m with you.”

“Lies,” you accuse gently, eyes softening as you unravel his plight. Your hand wanders from his jaw to the nape of his neck, in which you collect your evidence in the form of a cold and clingy sheen of sweat that’s clearly been settled for some time. You listen to his deep, burdened inhale that manifests from your discovery. If you squint hard enough you can make out his broad chest swelling with the intake. You mentally count the seconds his breath is held in stasis, and the heady silence that flanks. Four. And then his exhale billows heavily and he’s pressing his forehead to yours in defeat.

Your heart aches for him. You part the dark curtain of hair spilling over the both of you and imprint a sweet kiss to the corner of his lip. “It’s alright, Hunter; I’m here.”

He makes a pained sound against you.

“Was it the boys?”

His silence speaks for itself, waxing the anguish.

“Wake me next time.” It’s a useless plea, you know. You can never remove a soldier from the battlefield, nor stop the tape of death that rolls infinitely behind his closed lids.

From his glued position, he manages a fervent shake of his head. “Seeing you sleep peacefully... it’s soothing to me.”

You frown, fingers threading through his saturated scalp. You peel away from his face and crunch upward into a sitting position.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, loving lips tacking against his earlobe as you gently detangle. Hunter’s grip tightens in protest.

“I promise; right back,” you plant a chaste kiss to his cheek and roll out of his hold and off the bed, dashing to the refresher. The faucet shoots on, and you’re back seconds later with a wrung cloth monitored thoughtfully; not too hot or cold. You’ve long learned the extent of Hunter’s restlessness that flourishes in the wake of direct heat, and similarly, an unanticipated chill proves catastrophic to his sensitized nerves and he shoots into overload in no time flat. You, ever the attentive companion, fortunately discovered the most ideal temperatures to coat items before application.

You gingerly drape the rag over the back of his neck, and his shoulders slope at the contact. He nods his thanks and you take up your spot beside him on the edge of the bed.

His head remains cast downward, eyes presumably skimming the dark floor where he no doubt is attempting to shrug off all his troubles onto. You rub between his shoulder blades.

“Do you want to call them?” You ask.

He takes a shaky breath. “I think... that might help. Yes.”

You twist your body around, flopping ridiculously across the bed to reach the nightstand you could’ve just gotten up and walked around to. You fumble briefly for the comm seated there before straightening back up and activating a sequence. The light on the device blinks silently in working to establish a connection. A tremor burgeons from the mattress, a byproduct of Hunter’s bouncing knee. You still his disquiet with a reassuring squeeze. A voice finally crackles to life on the other end.

“Hello?” The greeting is interrupted by a seismic yawn.

“Hey Wrecker,” you greet gently. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Oh, hiya!” Sleep quickly disbands from the large man upon recognition of your voice as he inflates with something more peppy. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, checking in,” you pause, glancing over at Hunter. “Sarge and I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hey vod!” Wrecker addresses his brother then. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s fine, Wrecker,” Hunter does his best to withhold the weariness lacing his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice. You can go back to sleep now, bud.”

Wrecker hums contemplatively. “Y’sure that’s all? Ain’t sounded like ya slept a wink.”

“I‘ll get there, don’t worry about me.”

“Need a good Wrecker cuddle?”

An unfiltered chuckle sounds through Hunter, and you relish the closest thing to at ease he’s sounded all night. “Maybe later, Wreck. But I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ohhhh,” Wrecker drawls cheekily, his wicked grin palpable as he recalls that Sarge is already occupied with a warm body. “Well ‘f ya change your mind lemme know! Nighty night you two.”

“Goodnight, Wrecker.” You can’t help your own splitting grin.

Hunter snorts softly as the comm ends. “Feels like I’ve been caught in something scandalous.”

“Yeah, but he’s loyal,” you snicker, contacting the next member.

“Present.” It comes as no surprise that the engineer’s voice rings through with an unnerving level of chipper. Absolutely preposterous, this man. “Where am I needed?”

“In bed,” Hunter grumbles. “Get to sleep, Tech.”

“And yet you are the one who called me,” Tech glides right over the explicit command, the sound of his trinketing flooding the background. “Anyway, I look forward to showing you my newest creation—”

“Goodnight, Tech,” you sever his impending presentation with a snort. “Thanks for picking up. Puts Hunter’s mind at ease. He’s restless tonight.”

“Ah, yes. We will need to work on his subpar development regarding healthy sleep patterns.”

Hunter’s face twists with a frown that doesn’t hold that much weight. “If that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“Indeed. I just thought you might enjoy the humor in that.”

Hunter flashes a smirk he figures his younger brother is probably matching. “You know yours is my favorite, vod’ika.”

“That is good to hear.” A pause. “Goodnight, Hunter. Should you still find yourself restless in the coming hours, I’m happy to assist with my ‘useless trivia’ that inevitably puts you to sleep.”

“By that point you should find yourself asleep,” the ori’vod points out.

“Very well,” Tech relents. “I shall, for you.”

Hunter just shakes his head, unconvinced he won’t discover a sleepy genius slumped over the nearest workbench here within the next few hours.

Another round of brotherly charges are exchanged and then you’re left with one last call to make.

The last member acknowledges in a far less amiable manner.

“Crosshair.” You innately grow solemn with it. “Got a second?”

“Don’t really have a choice now,” he responds curtly, a lingering husk of sleep in his voice.

“Sorry Cross,” Hunter interjects. “My doing. Just wanted to check in on you boys.”

“At two in the morning.”

Hunter manages a wry smile. “Can’t say hi to my vode whenever?”

There’s silence on Crosshair’s end for a moment.

“What’s going on.” He’s returned bearing more sage.

You feel Hunter straighten beside you. “Nothin’, vod. Don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t work on me, Hunter. Try again.”

“I’m fine,” Hunter said rushingly. “Promise. Just gets a little stuffy in my head sometimes. But you boys always make it better, y’know?”

Crosshair quiets. “Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thanks vod. Appreciate it.”

You imagine Crosshair’s eyes searing into you through the comm as his attention shifts. “Keep me updated.”

“I will,” you assure. The connection ends. You eye Hunter, grazing your fingernails along the side of his head, tucking inky strands behind his ear. “Did that help at all?”

Hunter huffs a tired laugh. “Think it just made it worse. Now none of ‘em will sleep because of me.”

“They’ll be just fine,” you begin guiding him back under the covers. “Now to make sure you are.” He resists you for the briefest of moments.

“I am fine, honey.”

“You will be,” you agree, lying back. Hunter soon follows and sprawls out over top of you, wriggling until he’s positioned ideally with his head on your chest yet within proximity of your neck to plaster kisses with ease when the mood strikes.

Hunter makes a little choked sound, and you realize he’s clearing his throat. “Thank you... for doing that for me.”

You flatten his head to your chest with something fiercely protective. “I would do anything for you.”

“Which, by and large, is entirely unnecessary.”

He earns himself a long-suffering sigh at that.

“It is necessary. Because you are my everything.”

“I—”

“Shh,” you rebuke him. “Dammit, Hunter—just let someone take care of you.” You chew your lip. “Let me.”

He inhales deeply through his nose. It is entirely plausible for Sergeant Hunter to be bested in a battle-of-the-wills on the rarest of occasions; this being one of them. You spread your hands across his back and begin a deliberating massage. He groans lightly, his neglected aches and pains woven into the limelight by your touch. You quickly get caught up in your administration. When your breath suddenly hitches, Hunter lifts his head in curiosity.

“I’m just… you...” Words feel thick on your tongue. “You are a remarkable man, you know that?”

The corded muscles of his back tense. Anyone else would bask in such awestruck reverence but not Hunter, who makes haste to override his obvious discomfort with a thoughtful hum.

“I know that’s what you believe,” he answers neutrally.

“Because it’s true.” You reposition the wicking cloth at his neck. “Your brothers and I... we would all be lost without you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

A pinch to his bicep. “Maybe you’re too hard on yourself.” Too damn stubborn, you nearly add.

His demeanor is colored with remiss. “All in a Sergeant’s work.”

One-hundred percent success rates and elite statuses aside: Hunter carries his tediously bashful disposition in total part.

“You don’t have to be Sergeant around me, you know,” you cup his face, tilting him up to meet yours. “You can just be Hunter.”

He can just be himself.

He shrugs with that pained, dutiful smile. The smile that follows him into adversity, the wry humor that is as much his shield as any. “Guess I don’t know how to separate the two.”

Your eyes well all of a sudden as you gaze upon this beautiful and troubled man with so much love in your heart it sends a keeling pang through you. Of course he doesn’t know how. He’s never known how to truly feel distinguished outside the focal point of soldiering. He’s always been so different, but never an individual. Never his own man. Preordained for responsibilities since before his decant, conducive in parental devices and sibling undertakings and leadership skills interchangeably. Always carrying others but who carries him?

You choke on a verklempt breath.

“I can help you.” You sound so small and desperate, sobbing quietly underneath him as your heart breaks alongside his. “Please let me help you…”

In the dark he captures your salty, stray tear with his lips—he always knows—before moving down and swallowing your mouth. Tenderness blooms from his textured lips, soft and sultry and seeping into every capillary. A soft love note pings from you against him when he’s got you like this, cast in a smelter of dire adoration and the overwhelming need to nurture. His touch, his kiss, is a burning ember that brands you even when he pulls away.

“You already do,” he murmurs sweetly against your lips.

[cardiophileanonymous]

Short Thorquill Drabble: Clear!

AU where the guardians take one Electro, someone with electric powers similar to Thor. He is an alien race considered gods like asgardians. I know he’s a goofy Spider-Man villain but I couldn’t find many other electric villains in the marvel universe lol so just roll with it.

...

“Ha,” Electro quietly laughed. “A GOD of thunder? You’re barely even a child, let alone a deity!”

Thor was backed up to a corner, well, more of a cliff. Quill looked up, frantically waving his arms to get the attention of the men above him.

“Thor!” His shouts fell on deaf ears as the blonde man was too busy focusing on his opponent to notice. He glanced at a broken statue before him. “Rocket, what are these statues made of?”

Rocket shrugged.

“I dunno, silver maybe? But that doesn’t matter right now!”

Without explaining himself, Quill grabbed a long stick like piece that had broken off.

“Hey asshole!” The villain looked down. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you! If you really have such amazing lightning powers, why’ve I never seen you use em?!” He lifted up the long rod as if it was a sword.

Rocket’s jaw dropped in fear. He was pretty sure he had a good idea of what he was planning, and Peter had done far more stupid things in the past. He still whispered to him, determined to say his piece and not let his friend at least know what a suicide mission this was.

“Quill, are you crazy?! Silver is the most conductive metal in existence!”

Instead of backing down, the man stood up straighter.

“At least Thor shows his ‘pathetic’ powers! You haven’t! That’s cuz’ you’re not nearly as good as him!”

Thor shook his head.

“Quill-”

The villain finished his sentence.

“I have no need to prove myself to you or any other mortal!”

Quill shrugged and began to speak in a condescending, taunting manner.

“Then, go ahead! Strike me down, Zeus!” The villain turned his attention back to Thor, but he still looked down in the corner of his eye. The human smiled, a nervous smile from fear. He had to get his attention back quick, else Thor would be toast. “YOU DON’T HAVE THE BALL-”

With that, the villain turned, throwing a full speed lightning bolt at Quill. He jumped up from the electrocution immediately.

“QUILL!”

The call came from both Rocket and Thor. Rocket was almost frozen with fear. Meanwhile, Thor has the opposite reaction, taking his large battle axe and swiping along Electro’s feet with the long handle, causing him to fall on his side.

...

Rocket wasn’t sure what he should be doing, but dammit, he was gonna do his best. He had been trying chest compressions for the past few minutes, but with his smaller size he wasn’t sure if he was getting it done properly. Thor ran up to them.

“Rabbit! Is Quill-”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket lifted his head.

“I’m tryin, alright?! Listen, there’s still a pulse!”

Thor perked up.

“There is?!”

“Yeah but it’s way too slow and irregular! I’m trying to get it back to normal, but…”

Thor suddenly got an idea. He nudged Groot out of the way and kneeled down next to Rocket, in front of Quill.

“I have an idea. I saw something back on Earth. I think I can help.”

He shooed him away and opened up Peter’s jacket before ripping off his shirt. He put his hands on his chest. Rocket couldn’t help but keep butting in through the whole thing.

“Wait, what what? What are you doing?”

Thor gave a clear warning.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He didn’t know how much was too much. Or too little for that matter. He focused, putting a small electric surge through Peter’s body. His chest convulsed up involuntarily before lying still again. Rocket jumped up, yapping uncontrollably.

“What are you doing, trying to kill him faster?!”

“What is his pulse now?”

Rocket brought his paw up to Quill’s neck to check. He gave Thor an odd look.

“...better than before.” He quickly started chest compressions again. “But still not good enough. His heart’s all outta whack.”

Thor looked to the side. After a few more moments of chest compressions, he brought his hands back down again.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He did a similar shock this time. He tried to amp it up a little bit more, just enough so he wouldn’t hurt him and return his heart to his normal rhythm. The body jumped up before falling again. Rocket monitored Peter’s pulse again before returning to chest compressions.

“Better, but it’s still, irregular, dammit!”

Thor put a hand to Peter’s wrist while Rocket continued on with his attempt at cpr. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was irregular. The odd thumping sent a chill up his spine. Still, it seemed to get slightly better with Rocket continuing to do what he was doing.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Thor sent another surge of electricity, raising the power up again this time. But this would be the most powerful he was willing to do. Any more, and he was positive he’d be hurting him far more than helping.

Rocket continued with chest compressions. His heart rate was better, but not by much. Thor was beginning to get worried.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Another surge. Quill’s whole body convulsed. Rocket shook his head, frantically pushing his chest at a consistent rate.

“A big lightning bolt did this, why can’t a big lightning bolt put it back?!”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“I know it doesn’t work like that! But…” Rocket began to get tired. He looked down, scared that Quill would never come to. “...but I wish it did.” He slowed down, and slowly came to a stop, before kneeling down. He looked like he was genuinely going to cry. Thor sighed, recalling all the previous friends he’d seen die in battle. He didn’t want this to be another one of those memories.

“Stand back, Rabbit. I’m going to try this one more time.”

He sent one more surge of electricity, hopeful that this time, Quill would open his eyes. After his body stiffened then returned to a relaxed state, Thor took a keen look at his face. He didn’t move an inch. The god finally looked down in defeat. His eyes turned to Rocket and Groot, who were already partially mourning. They would no doubt carry him back to the ship, and subsequently to a hospital, but the ship wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes. By then it’d likely be far too late.

Suddenly, Peter stirred. He groaned a little before sitting up. He looked at everyone.

“What… happened…?”

Rocket started laughing hysterically, something he was doing to stop himself from crying. It was a very sad laugh as a result.

“YOU GOT STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, YOU IDIOT!”

Suddenly, Quill’s memories started coming back to him. That’s right! He had pissed Electro off enough into zapping him. But that was strange, because the shock he got from him seemed like it happened ages ago. And he could’ve sworn he came to a couple times from a different kind of electricity.

“But… I thought I just felt zapping.” He looked down and noticed his clothes. “And what happened to my shirt? Was this all from the electric shock?”

Thor lifted his head up in pride.

“I just used my powers to send a large electric current through your heart!”

Quill looked at him with a confused smile before frowning with an open mouth.

“You WHAT?”

“It’s like a technology they have on Earth. A ‘defibrillator’. It puts your heart back to a ‘normal rhythm’.”

Rocket shrugged.

“I mean, it did do that. Your heart rate was waaay worse before Thor started zappin’ ya.”

Quill was speechless. Of course, the first thing going through his mind was holy shit this idiot could’ve just fried me a million times over right now and I could’ve been long dead, did he even know what he was doing?! But then he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He wasn’t dead. Yeah, he was more than worse for wear, but that’s to be expected of someone who just got struck by powerful electricity. In fact, if Thor hadn’t gotten the idea to use his own hands to revive him, was it possible he could’ve died?

…

Later that night, Thor hung by the bar, laughing and joking with Drax and Rocket, as he usually did. This time, Peter joined them, and waited patiently for when Rocket and Drax decided to leave. He decided that after the other two were gone would finally be the time he’d swallow his pride. He knew he needed to say some sort of thank you. Not because of another crew mate telling him to or because his hand was forced. But out of genuine appreciation.

After Drax had left, Peter made a couple facial expressions at Rocket. The two had known each other well enough at this point that they were capable of having conversations without a single word. He indicated that he wanted to be alone with Thor and Rocket respectfully nodded and left the room. Once it was just the two of them sitting at the bar table, Peter finally cleared his throat.

“Thor.”

The god nodded.

“I guess… I just wanted to say… thank you.”

Thor seemed confused.

“Thank you?”

“Yes. For the whole shocking me, back to life, or whatever.”

“What? I should be thanking you!”

Peter turned his head to the side.

“Huh?”

“Yeah! If it weren’t for you distracting him, I’d have been finished!”

Quill’s confusion quickly turned into pride.

“Yeah…! You’re right!” He laughed, but his pride was shaky, and didn’t stay for long. After being face to face with death, again, now didn’t feel like the time to soak in praise unnecessarily. “...seriously though. Look, I know we don’t really get along, so the fact you saved me is just…” He couldn’t really convey the words, so he just reiterated his original point. “Thank you.”

Thor shrugged.

“Why shouldn’t I have? I feel I have been at your ire for no reason yet you risked your life for me in the first place.”

Quill felt like all his mental functions stopped for a moment as he registered what he was just told.

“Did I?”

“Well, what was that whole display?” Thor chuckled as he raised his bottle in the air, quoting Quill right before he got struck by lightning. “Come on, strike me down, Zeus!” He laughed at the previous sentence. “That line is actually pretty funny, since you turned out alive from this whole ordeal.”

Quill unconsciously started nodding.

“Yeah. I guess that is a funny line.”

He started to ponder, why did he do it? In his eyes, Thor was an annoying, rambunctious barbarian. He was always waiting for the day Thor would get off the ship, a day that never really came. Perhaps it was because he didn’t make a good first impression, maybe it was because he saw him as a rival for leadership. But despite all of that, there was no way in hell he deserved to die, so his heroism probably kicked in before any sort of jealousy or bitterness. Sure, literally asking to get struck by lightning was a less than eloquent way of going about saving him. But it was the best he could come up with in the heat of the moment. He snapped back to reality when Thor handed him a beer.

“How is your heart feeling?”

Peter grabbed the beer and looked him in the eyes, confused.

“Um, normal?”

“Well, what’s your heart rate?”

“Normal, I guess…? Like I don’t feel any different, so-”

Thor rolled his eyes, putting a hand on his wrist without question. After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled.

“It’s normal.”

Peter did his best not to move his hand back out of instinct. Was just randomly grabbing people’s wrists to check on their pulses a common thing among asgardians, or was this man just incredibly weird? Instead of saying anything, he tried his best to laugh it off.

“Well, that’s good.”

He swore he could still feel Thor’s fingers on his pulse long after he finally retracted his hand. It was a strange phantom touch that remained. It annoyed him a little bit, but at the same time, it was oddly… comforting? He took a few sips of his beer as Thor went to bed and he pondered when he ought to do the same.