#he’s still in the lab and hasn’t slept in five days

[namiweiko]

As much as I like melvik and meljayvik, I cannot, in good conscience, do that to her. Jayce and Viktor are so ridiculously codependent (especially post s2) that trying to fit someone else in there would be considered a form of torture for the person involved

[oliviahallwriting]

Chapter 25

The next few hours Tom spent on foot. They’d split up, using Jun’s copy of the A/V club’s contact form to find any members intrigued by the promise of a front-page story. The club had thirty members; divided by four still meant he’d had to find seven people. So far, he’d found six, all of whom locked in their dorms.

When La Marschiena struck five, Tom put on his earbuds.

“Stick to your residences,” the AI voice said. “Until Sunday, limit unnecessary public activity.”

And then the voice cut out, replaced by Cynthia’s posh speaking voice.

“Tom and Hana, report to my office,” she said, then repeated.

Tom ignored her, obviously, and gave up on a goofy little hope he’d had that she’d forgotten.

A few hours ago, Jun had insisted that this would be a good use of their time, that they couldn’t look amateur. Not that they were likely to be taken seriously anyway; a small little group of college students didn’t have much cachet in this sort of thing, probably. But Tom, Laura, and Kiyana had obliged him, for lack of a better idea.

It seemed that his own efforts wouldn’t amount to much, Tom thought, as the last guy on his list also neglected to answer his knock on the door. Unless the others had more success, that is, and found the intersection of A/V club students and students who’d avoided the campus tap water. He took a break and found a seat in the res hall lobby and ate a granola bar. He was starting to get sick of them.

Maybe they wouldn’t need the club. He’d imagined that a local news outlet was more likely to take them seriously if they had decent production, but his shitty phone camera might work in a pinch. It was the local news, after all. Jun might hold LLTV in high regard, but he’d never heard of a local news channel that wasn’t lurid. How high could their standard of entry possibly be?

Tom’s phone buzzed, indicating a call, and a glance showed an unknown number. Tom frowned between bites of granola and let them finish calling. Telemarketer, probably. They’d steal your voice and ID after, what, ten seconds? Scary shit. That was why he didn’t answer his phone, maybe. Yeah, it was a good enough reason.

Then he got a text, and another.

You don’t pick up your phone, I guess. Al told me you wouldn’t. It’s Tyler, by the way. Where’s Mike?

Tyler

Michael? The professor?

Tom

I need his help to synthesize more of the cure, and he hasn’t been to the lab at all today.

Tyler

Tom?

Tyler

He’s with Cynthia.

Tom

What?

Tyler

Yeah. He gave himself up so we could get out of her building. Noble of him, to be honest.

Tom

Oh. Oh, wow. That sucks.

Tyler

Yeah.

Tom

What do we do now? I could make more, but it’ll take me, like, three weeks.

Tyler

Don’t worry about that. But we’re planning something, so meet us in Chopin, second floor, at two tomorrow.

Tom

Well, Tom thought, at least he recruited one person to their cause. With any luck Tyler knew how to work a camera.

He left the hall and returned to his dorm, listening to the stream’s sonorous, repetitive commands. Some music would have been a nice change of pace, or, better yet, silence as he slept. But he kept the volume loud, with the hopes that a change in command would wake him, and slept fitfully. 

It seemed not to matter, since the morning came without any deviation. If Cynthia took his and Jun’s absence from her meeting as a threat, she at least was too distracted to send a reminder, or worse, to lead the student body against them. 

Chopin Hall’s assortment of rainbow flags, fluttering from almost every dorm window, welcomed him at noon the next day. He wasn’t the first to arrive, despite showing up several hours before they were supposed to conduct their little interview; Tyler was there, and three guys he’d never seen before were taking up the sitting area in Jun’s suite. Tom introduced himself, and learned that their names were Olsen, Ben, and Logan, and they were in the A/V club.

From the few minutes he spent in their presence, Tom gathered that Olsen was kind of intense, and a confrontational manner of speaking. He probably got that a lot, though, since he was in his high school’s debate team. Ben chewed a lot of gum, a result, he confessed, of nicotine addiction in high school, but he seemed mild-mannered, and was good with post-production and videography. Logan was well-built, and apparently took Loftman’s gym’s kickboxing classes when he wasn’t manning the main camera. Tom figured out, from their constant bickering, that they were also brothers. Or at least half-brothers; he didn’t want to pry. Cousins, maybe, or even triplets, though they didn’t look that similar. Whatever.

They’d listened to Jun’s half-delirious ramblings over the phone at eleven the night before because of a serious family emergency. None of them wanted to explain it in detail, which was fine with Tom, but it’d kept them from Loftman since the semester started. Their plane had landed only minutes before Jun called and begged them to, one, avoid drinking the university tap and two, to show up the next afternoon with recording equipment. None of the three brothers had heard about RAIN at all. Tom made an executive decision to let his more verbally-inclined boyfriend explain everything and left them to fiddle with their cameras.

Jun emerged from his room after a few minutes, and they chatted for a while. Apparently neither Laura nor Kiyana were showing up. Laura couldn’t miss her engineering conference, which was an all-day event. Jennifer was also attending the conference, but only to take notes for a class, and Kiyana had decided to go with her and make a date out of it. It was honestly kind of cute.

Tom felt some of his nerves leave him after talking with his boyfriend. Jun had considered how many people he’d need for this whole event, and the three camera dudes in his little sitting nook at least talked like they knew what they were doing. Tyler had looked determined, though he kept fumbling with one of the smaller cameras, enough that Logan had replaced it with a mic.

It was four-fifteen when everyone was fully up to speed with the plan, which boiled down to striding into Cynthia’s room with cameras rolling and video streaming, demanding an interview, and hoping that she’d damn herself in the process. The plan was, in other words, a little loose. Though Jun had at least typed out a script for himself, and a copy for Olsen, so maybe he had some rhetorical shit on the backburner.

Olsen read some of the script and furrowed his eyebrow.

“Hey, Jun? What is this?” he asked.

“It’s the script,” Jun replied.

“No, like, what, are we accusing her of spiking the campus water supply? That’s gotta be a felony or something.”

“It is,” Jun answered. 

“Well,” Olsen continued, “Do the cops know about it? Why are we the ones blowing the whistle?”

“They know,” Jun said, and sighed. “Olsen, do you need the details to follow the script?”

“Yeah,” Olsen replied. “I don’t just follow orders.”

“Smart man,” Tom said.

“You’re not being helpful, Tom,” Jun said. “No, uh, she spiked it with a drug, referred to here as RAIN, which basically mind-controlled the campus. So it’s just us and the, like, two percent of students who don’t drink tap water because they’re too preppy for it, and, side note, I can’t believe that they’ve basically been paid off for their weird aversion to what’s usually very clean, tasty municipal tap, but it’s the truth. But anyway, yeah, it’s basically just us.”

“And the deaf students,” Tom added. “They’re immune to the induction sound and the commands.”

“Yeah, but they’re probably too busy following Apryl Maye’s career,” Jun shot back. “As we all should be, I know, but there’s a reason her comments really struck a chord in that community and Tom, you gotta keep me on track, the stakes are too high for this sort of interlude—”

“Her debut album hits like a fucking train,” Tom replied, “But you gotta stay on track.”

“I’ll say the stakes are high,” Olsen said. He was still skimming the interview script, which was a few pages long. “Jun, uh, why do you say she’s going to target, uh, the LGBT community?”

“Oh, she’s not,” Jun said. He was speaking fast, like, three-cups-of-coffee fast. “Just trans people. But I wouldn’t put it past her to also get to nonbinary people and, you know, whatever. It’s gender she’s worried about. We’ll get there when we get there. You probably won’t have to even give the interview.”

“Worrying, if true,” Olsen said.

“Yeah,” Ben chimed in. “If true.”

Jun glared at him.

Tyler, who’d been gazing into Jun’s refrigerator, closed it suddenly and stared at the three brothers.

“Guys,” he said, “Jun’s the president of the A/V club, so maybe you should trust him. And even if you don’t, well, do you need to know the truth to turn on a camera? It’ll be a favor to him. You can joke about it later, at one of your club meetings. Say that he put you up to it if you’re embarrassed.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t deny feeling a little impressed. Maybe Tyler had picked up something from his sister.

But Tyler’s spiel wasn’t enough to fully convince Olsen, Ben, and Logan, if their skeptical sidelong looks were any indication.

Tom sighed and pulled out his wallet. His parents had given him two hundred dollars for Christmas. It was twice as much as they usually gave him, which his mom offhandedly explained by “spending more in college”, but he’d chalked it to guilt over what had happened to his grandmother. His mom had never wanted to know the details, but it was obvious enough that he’d been, as his father would say, going through it. The extra money was the least they could do.

He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.

Logan turned around. He seemed like a typically pretty stoic type, the kind of person Tom thought he was, at least several months ago, but the side of his mouth turned up a bit.

“I didn’t say it was all yours,” Tom quipped.

Logan’s smile faded immediately, and he took a more imposing stance. He was big, in a six-gym-days-a-week kind of way. Not that Tom was small, just that he came by his size more honestly.

The other two brothers looked at Tom expectantly.

“Fine,” he said, and gave each of them fifty dollars.

“Can I have one?” Tyler asked.

“I’m barely letting you date my sister,” Tom replied. “Don’t push it.”

“Whatever,” Tyler said, but he smiled sheepishly. “We should go, then, before she leaves her office. She’s usually in her office until six on Saturdays, but the cure only lasts an hour.”

Four-thirty, read Tom’s phone clock. They couldn’t wait much longer. He took out the bottle of cure, and, using only a spray per person, just covered everyone before the bottle was empty.

Jun went to the bathroom, and Tom tried to ignore the distinct sounds of vomiting. 

He returned, and no one said anything, even as he downed a disposable bottle of water.

“Let’s go,” he said, “before I chicken out.”

They set out towards Comel Hall. Nobody gave them a second glance, since nobody seemed to be around. Even for a Saturday, and even though he knew the cause, it wasn’t, you know, not unnerving.

When they arrived, Jun looked nervously at the front door.

“I think we should still assume that she has the door controls,” he said. “Can one of you block this door, and, uh, the back one of the building? I want to be able to leave if something goes wrong.”

Ben nodded and found a good-sized rock to prop the door open. Then, on a whim, he took out the gum he’d been chewing and stuck it in the bolt on the inside of the door jamb, ensuring that the door couldn’t be locked, even if it closed. Then he left the building towards its back door.

“Let’s continue without him,” Jun said. “He was our backup camera, but everything seems to be functioning. Lights are working, too. We can use our phones as backup cameras.”

“Yeah,” Olsen replied. “He can do the sound editing later.”

Jun made a motion for them to stay quiet, and they entered the hall.

Someone was in the lobby, and she was the first in their journey to notice them. She wore wireless earbuds, and the smell of Impulse wafted around her. Tom remembered a familiarity with her in the fleeting moment she revealed her face before returning to her phone.

“Vanessa?” 

She didn’t respond.

“You know her?” Jun whispered.

“Kissed her at a party,” Tom mumbled back.

Jun nodded absently and left to start their little line in the middle of the lobby. He was supposed to be in the middle of the formation; in his efforts to ensure a smooth interview, Tyler had planned out the small details while Jun was writing the script. Tom didn’t really follow his logic behind the walking order, including why he was at the rear, with Tyler. Mostly he was annoyed that he couldn’t walk with Jun. He was anxious enough; his boyfriend was probably barely holding it together, unless he’d vomited out his nerves.

As they approached room 103, Tom glanced back towards the lobby. Vanessa had moved from her seat to stand next to the door, in sight on the hallway, and stared at him. He remembered, then, how she’d kissed him, in an alcove next to a frat house, trying and failing to conjure something hot in him. Now she held him not with her arms, but with a look cold as snow.

Then he heard the door close, and lock. She’d kicked Ben’s rock out of the doorway.

A sudden chill raced through him, and he grabbed Tyler’s shoulder. The group’s vanguard had already reached the door to Cynthia’s office.

“Wait, you guys,” he said, fear cracking his voice. Their procession had gone smoothly so far, maybe too much so, like Cynthia didn’t know they were coming, like she expected Tom and Jun to just be at her regular meeting, a day late. But Vanessa knew. In her gaze, it was clear. Cynthia had started to target specific people, so he wouldn’t be on her trail. She knew—

“Everything’s fine,” Tyler said. “Stop freaking out.” He broke Tom’s grip on his shoulder and gestured for Olsen, who held point, to keep going. Jun turned around from where he stood in the middle of the line, but the door opened, and he held his tongue.

Not much they could do now, Tom thought, and tried to will his heart to stop racing.

He followed them inside.

…

The weather outside had been gorgeous, remaining storm clouds accentuating an otherwise bright, almost colorful sky. It made the contrasting pitch blackness of room 103 strange.

Almost pitch-blackness, that is, since there was a pitiful little glow from a laptop near the whiteboard at the opposite end of the room. He could, after a few seconds, distinguish the silhouettes of desks, too, and then, a figure, sitting near the laptop. There was a gentle hum of a humidifier running somewhere in the room, which cast a sweaty pall into the air.

“Good evening,” Jun said, into the darkness. Somehow, he still sounded confident, though in any kinder world he wouldn’t have been the one interviewing her. Hell, they could still switch out now, right? Olsen had a copy of the script, even if he weren’t as charismatic.

Tom noticed, as he reached for the lightswitch, that thick fabric covered what would have been the classroom’s ceiling-adjacent windows and dripped down to the floor.

The lightswitch didn’t work. Not that Tom really expected it to, since Cynthia had access to the building’s locks and shit. It was unnerving, but not super necessary; he’d adjust to the light in a minute or two. 

“Hello, Hana,” replied Cynthia, from the professor’s desk. “You weren’t here yesterday.”

Tom felt Tyler move behind him to get closer to the door, and saw a response, a shuffling bit of movement on one side of the wall, which he chalked to a gust from the humidifier against the curtains.

Jun moved forwards with a microphone in hand and ignored Cynthia’s comment. “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said. “We’re doing an article about the lives of Loftman’s T.A.s, and wondered if you could help us with an interview.”

Cynthia didn’t reply, but her laptop made a quiet little “ding” sound, the telltale induction command. And then, after a few seconds, another one; the sound was apparently on a timer.

“Careful, you’re already live on stream,” Jun replied, and made a gesture to Logan. 

Tom doubted if that was true; he hadn’t seen any kind of glow from where he stood behind the main camera’s viewfinder.

Cynthia didn’t say anything, but hit a few buttons on her laptop before leaning forwards and speaking into its microphone.

“Close the building,” she said. The laptop sent out another bell chime.

Jun didn’t seem unnerved by the statement until he heard— well, they all heard—the sounds of someone sprinting next to the building, and then, the sounds of a few more people sprinting after them, and finally, the clash of Comel Hall’s back door slamming shut.

So much for Ben propping the door open.

Jun fiddled anxiously with the microphone.

“Hey, can someone use their phone’s flashlight or something?” he asked, tilting ambiguously behind him. “Our audience needs to see, too.”

“Sure,” Tyler said, from where he stood next to the door. But, after an awkward little moment, the room was still dark.

Logan, undaunted, moved towards the covered window with the video camera on his shoulder, and muttered something about golden hour.

“Stop the recording,” Cynthia said, apparently to herself.

Two events occurred in rapid succession. The first was Logan pulling the curtains away from the window, which flooded the room with blinding amber light. The second was a cacophony of crashing glass and plastic; apparently Logan dropped the camera. He yelled, but the sound was choked, becoming a gurgle before fading into silence.

Cynthia’s voice, calm, microphone-enhanced, echoed through the room.

“You’ve caused me a few problems, haven’t you?”

Tom squinted through the glare. Loftman’s professional video recording camera, purchased after years of fundraising from past A/V clubs, lay strewn on the ground and shattered. Logan lay unmoving among the pieces.

Standing above him were three well-built guys in combat jackets and earpieces, who, Tom realized belatedly, had been hiding behind the blackout curtain.

Cynthia’s laptop sounded the induction bell again. It had to be redundant, since the guys were wearing earpieces.

“That one, too,” Cynthia said, and pointed to Olsen.

Tom watched in horror as the men—hired muscle, probably—turned towards Olsen, who tripped one of them and landed a punch on another before they took him down. He was stunned, and couldn’t think to move, even when Jun realized what had happened to his poor little interview and shrieked in fear. 

Tyler still stood near the door to the classroom. “Go!” he yelled.

“Ignore my son,” Cynthia said easily. “Don’t let them leave.” She hadn’t moved from her desk.

Tom finally shook himself from his freeze response and, following Tyler’s direction, ran forward. He needed to escape, he thought blindly. No, he needed Jun to escape, so he covered a few strides, and then he’d meet Jun in the middle of the room, who’d now realized that yeah, he should try to escape too, and was leaping over the destroyed camera parts like a gazelle, and oh, shit, something slammed into his back, and he was falling—

Tom’s head hit the linoleum, and he stared upwards, dazed, into the grim face of one of the mercenaries. A boot slammed into the side of his chest and tore a groan from his lungs.

“Stop!” he heard Jun yell. “Whatever you want, just stop fucking beating up my boyfriend!”

“Very well,” Cynthia said. “Stop what you’re doing. Tyler, hold her steady. Don’t want them running.”

A few moments without further impact let Tom get to his feet. Cynthia was still half a room ahead of him. Tyler had finally moved from the door towards Jun, and dutifully held his arms together behind his back. Logan and Olsen laid unconscious in the pile of camera shrapnel close to the window, and their brother had apparently been apprehended outside.

Several small moments from the past few minutes coalesced in Tom’s mind: Vanessa waiting in the lobby, the goons hiding in the overly-dark room, and Tyler, who was apparently Cynthia’s son, and followed her directions. 

Cynthia had been waiting for them. She’d probably known about Jun’s scheme since yesterday afternoon, after he failed to show up to her warped little hypnotherapy session. Maybe she’d even known about them before, since Tyler was apparently in on it; maybe she knew about the cure itself, and it was all for nothing. But no, the cure worked. That was obvious; the laptop’s bell hadn’t stopped ringing every few seconds since they’d arrived, and the room was balmy from the humidifier. 

“Bring her to me,” Cynthia told Tyler. “Or, rather, could you bring her to me? I know you’re not under. Mike told me everything.”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “Give me a moment.”

“Unless you’d rather I let the men do it,” Cynthia continued. “I just wanted to see where you stood, and I’m paying them, after all.”

“It’s okay,” Tyler replied.

Tom noticed that Tyler, where he stood in roughly the middle of the room, was facing away from his mother, and saw, in a brief, subtle little moment, him mutter something to Jun, who started to struggle against him. Tyler’s grip on Jun held strong, though the two of them swayed back and forth, pacing the room a little bit in their tussle.

Cynthia, alarmed, started to speak.

“No,” Tyler said, between breaths. “I got this. I have—hff—something to prove.”

Tyler looked up from what Tom could only classify as wrestling to give him what was probably a pointed look, but was too obscure to read. Tom glared back at him, which was what he deserved.

Then Tyler mouthed something, and Tom realized that the wrestling must have been some kind of weird performance, because both Jun and Tyler were a lot closer to the door than they were before, and the mouthed words looked a lot like “the door.”

“Tyler!” Cynthia shouted.

“I’m doing what you—mmph— asked!” Tyler replied. “He, uh, she surrendered, so I don’t see the—ghh— problem!”

Cynthia frowned and started to speak, which told Tom that there wasn’t time, so he turned to sprint towards the door.

“Hold him!” Cynthia called. “Make sure none of them leave the building!”

Tyler released Jun and shoved him to the front door.

Tom got to the door first and opened it, Jun close behind, followed by Tyler and the three mercenaries.

Tom made it through, and Jun, but it looked like one of the guys would make it to the door before Tyler.

That is, until Tom heard a distinct thud of a body—Tyler’s body— hitting a door, and, a moment later, it was just himself and his boyfriend racing towards the entrance of Comel Hall.

Tom didn’t realize that Tyler had thrown himself against the door to slow down the mercenaries. He didn’t think about how Tyler must have been, over the last few months, standing against his own mom, in secret. He couldn’t take the time; even now the door handle to room 103 was rattling furiously, and he couldn’t think past the pounding of his heart, and the stabbing pain each step sent through his side, thanks to the brutes moments earlier.

They reached the lobby. Vanessa was waiting for them, and jumped to her feet in front of the closed, and seemingly locked, door.

Tom watched, barely comprehending, as Jun easily picked her up and tossed her into one of the nearby padded chairs. It bought them only a few seconds, but that was enough to push the door open and slip out. Tom allowed himself a little smile; apparently Ben’s little gum ruse had worked.

“Holy shit,” Tom gasped, when they were a block or so away from Comel. The combination of running and a broken rib wasn’t conducive to speech.

“Dunno, man,” Jun replied, as they ran out of the building. “Adrenaline’s a hell of a drug.”

Tom nodded and slowed to a jog, catching his breath. But air came to him much faster after he saw a projectile of some kind fly past him, over his shoulder. Probably RAIN, he thought, but they were overthinking it. Water pistols would be more effective.

Or the darts were just a fallback, he realized, as the sprinkler system next to him activated, then those across the road, then those blocks away. 

“Maybe this’ll get to the local news,” he said. “Everyone knows you’re only supposed to water plants at night.”

And maybe he sounded more delirious than he thought, because Jun looked at him with the most adorable concern that Tom had ever seen in a person, and this was such a shitty situation, but it was kind of cool to see him toss someone onto leather like they were a stuffed toy, and he laughed, a little madly.

Another dart flew past them, and this one Jun saw, based on his wild-eyed expression.

“The darts,” he shouted. “Hide, and I’ll get to the city!”

With that, Jun turned to sprint towards a different edge of campus. He was a fast runner, Tom thought. There was a chance he could outrun the mercs on their tail.

Tom kept running, since there were no obvious or even decent hiding spots nearby, but the mercenary’s footsteps echoed ever louder. At least two of them were using their tranqs. One of the darts hit him, but, in a moment of pure luck, struck his back pocket, hit his phone, and fell to the ground. They were probably more used to the weight of real guns, Tom thought, but even a lousy shot would hit at close range. 

Tom supposed he should be thankful that even Cynthia balked at telling them to use real guns. Though his death by her hands would, he admitted, probably ruin her plans. There were some events that even a hypnotized college campus couldn’t conceal. Grim as it was, a dramatic death-by-gun in the middle of a university campus would draw the local news.

For better or for worse, Cynthia had planned for that, so there were no real guns. There was no easy way out. It would have been simple for him to succumb to the darts, to trust in his boyfriend to find the news and convince them that this was headline news. Never mind that the situation sounded fake and never mind that Cynthia could simply compel them otherwise. 

But that would be a concession. And something Tom had learned ages ago, in one of his game tournaments that was closer than it should’ve been, was that it was only acceptable to concede if there were literally no ways out. And he’d avoided the darts so far, miracle though it required. Hell, he thought, as the Fisher Complex revealed itself in front of him, he could even find a place to hide.

He climbed a set of stairs, and crossed a balcony. Then another staircase, and a warped, walled-in path. It was the first time he’d appreciated Brutalist architecture. Labyrinthine, stagnant, unapproachable. Plenty of cover, easy to lose others in, beautiful.

Tom found the door to one of the staff departments and, a few minutes later, crouched under the second-story reception desk and took out his phone. There was a small hole in the back, but the dart that had hit him hadn’t pierced through the phone’s outer shell.

He opened the texting app, and then closed it. Laura wouldn’t respond to a text if she were in a conference. She shouldn’t answer a call, either, if she respected her audience. But he had to try. And hey, he didn’t call people much; there was a good chance she’d correctly read the situation as an emergency. So he hit the “call” button from her contact page and tried not to check the time in the top of the screen, to confirma how few minutes he had before his cure expired.

“What?” Laura answered. Her irritation was obvious even through the phone, but Tom couldn’t care less.

“She’s onto us,” he said. “I’m being chased by Cynthia’s goons in the staff complex. Fisher. They get me, I don’t know what’ll happen, maybe they hold me hostage to stop Jun from getting the news, or maybe they beat me up again, I don’t know. I assume it’d be over.”

“Holy, uh, hang on,” Laura said. And then, in a tone that indicated that she was speaking to someone else, “Yes, I’ll take questions in a minute!”

“Yeah, so hurry and help if you can, I don’t know. Again, Fisher Complex. Jun’s trying to get to town, but he might not make it.”

“Got it,” Laura said bluntly, and hung up.

What she was going to do, Tom had no idea. All he could do was to try to calm his breathing and hope the mercenaries wouldn’t notice him. Already he heard tromping footsteps somewhere else in the building. It wouldn’t be much longer.

[gingerturtle99]

Just keep breathing chapter 4~

Previously| masterlist | next

Ot8 x FemReader

Doctor/Greys anatomy AU

Please like and reblog! Message me if you’d like to be on the tag list and yeah enjoy ✨

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Hospitals, talks of sex and stds, surgery, trauma , childhood illness, death, medical environment, details of body parts(genitalia)and swearing.

I am in no way a doctor or a medical professional, I am mostly going off my own experiences and greys anatomy!

You can’t do this!

“Seriously dude?..” I say my nose scrunching up in disgust as I keep eyes glued to the ground in fear of my face turning bright red after having to look the perpetrator in the eye.

“I…I mean you could’ve knocked” the man shrugs nonchalantly as he fixes his white coat.

“And you could’ve locked the door Yang jeongin! How was I meant to know you were in there! I thought you were meant to be helping Chan with a ground breaking neuro surgery…not screwing the nurses…” I say finally looking up at the younger boy who’s face is now slowly turning red from all the eyes on him, suddenly a low chuckle comes from behind me and jeongins eyes go wide with fear.

“Well doctor L/N… I was just coming up here to ask if you’d seen Doctor Yang but looks like I’ve answered my own question “ Chan says coming up behind me a disapproving look on his face as he stares down jeongin who looks like he’s going to piss himself at the sight. Upon first glance at Chan most people wouldn’t notice anything wrong, he looks as well put together as he normally does but looking at him closely the bags under his eyes tell me he hasn’t slept in a day or two and his hair looks slightly messy probably from him running his hands through his hair every five minutes in stress. This case must be getting too him, I haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“Jeong…Doctor Yang you’re off my case and my service.”

“YOU CANT DO THAT!! You’ve been working me like a dog for days! I know the case inside and out! You can’t just kick me off!!”My go wide at jeongin raising his voice to the cheif of neuro , I see anger flash through both men’s eyes…ohh this isn’t good.

I slowly start to put myself between the two men, I laugh to myself like I’d be able to actually stop either of these two if things got heated but hey it’s worth a shot right?

“Come on guys, let’s take this somewhere that isn’t the hallway “ I say putting on my sweetest smile hoping it’ll do some convincing that my words won’t.

“There’s nothing else to be said, doctor yang obviously had more important matters than the case he was assigned so therefore he’s no longer on it” chan says bluntly shrugging his shoulders while looking jeongin in the eye the whole time before turning to look at me, his face softening slightly .

“Sorry for causing a scene y/n-ah I know you don’t like it” chan says lowly ruffling my hair before turning his back walking away.

“Chris…chan wait!!!” I walk quickly to catch up to him , grabbing the sleeve of his white coat.

“Y/N I really don’t have the time”

“Come on Chan…you know jeongin isn’t a bad kid! Give him a chance…he’s one of the best residents we’ve got, you’d be stupid to pass up having him in the OR with you. As much as I’d love to steal him off you right now for my service,we both know he’s been working his ass off on your case and let’s be real do you have time to brief a whole ass new resident by the time of your surgery?” I say raising an eyebrow looking up at the slightly taller man.

“Yes he screwed up…but we all have! We all still do!. So please don’t kick him off your case” I don’t know why I’m pleading with Chan to put jeongin back on his case but I guess I sorta feel responsible for jeongin getting caught even not locking the on call room was his fault!

“Y/N I can’t afford to have someone who’s head isn’t in the game on this surgery and him going off to fuck some nurse while I sent him to go get labs and some more scans just proves his head isn’t in it. I completely get what you’re saying he’s a good kid, he’s incredibly skilled but he’s got to learn that actions have consequences and if I let this slide it’s going to look like I play favourites more than it already does! Now I’m sorry but no he’s off the case. End of story now drop it! “ chan says looking me in the eye, there’s no emotion behind his words other than stress and maybe a hint of disappointment.

“You ever think he went off to do that to relieve some stress? Like the kid said you’ve been working him like a dog and…”

“Y/N I SAID DROP IT!” Chan shouts causing both our eyes to blow wide in shock of him raising his voice .

I just nod at Chan before letting go of his white coat and watching him walk off. I start walking back to the on call room where I see minho lead a red faced jeongin inside, I follow both the men inside and lock the door behind me .

“Innie breathe…” I hear minho say warningly to young doctor

“ he can’t do this! He can’t! “ jeongin exclaims as he runs his hands through his hair.

“He’s head of neuro…he sorta can” Minho says rubbing jeongins back.

“If you…if you had just knocked and not made a scene!! Then none of this would have happened! “ jeongin shouts at me, turning his body towards line raising his arms up in frustration. My body acts on instinct and flinches at the taller boys actions and my eyes start to water slightly. I quickly shoot my head down so that neither of the boys can see but I have a feeling I’m a little too late.

“Hey hey! Listen to me hotshot! “ Minho grabs the younger boy by the shoulders.

“ none of this is her fault, he probably would’ve found out anyway since no one in this damn place can have any privacy , if Y/N hadn’t found you then someone else would have because you didn’t lock the door! You need to learn that just because we’ve known you for as long as we have we can’t play favourites dude! This is a teaching hospital! If you’d have thought with your brain instead of your dick you might’ve realised how much of bad idea that was. You’re starting to act like changbin and that’s not a good thing”

Jeongins face quickly switches from anger to remorse quickly as he takes in the elders words slowly nodding his head along with what minho is saying.

“I’m sorry…I..I just really wanted to be part of that surgery”

“We know innie, we would be hypocrites if we said we didn’t want to do what you just did during our residency “ I say walking up to him , wrapping him in a hug which he quickly returns burying his face in the crook of my neck as he bends his knees to accommodate the height difference. I rub my hands up and down his back to try help soothe the boy.

“Who was it anyway?” Minho says looking at jeongin

“A gentleman never kisses and tells”

“A gentlemen also remembers to lock the door so spill innie “ minho laughs as jeongin burrows his head deeper into my neck in embarrassment

I laugh and shake my head at both the boys , sliding my hands into jeongins hair the play with the back of it while he hides his face away from minho who’s cackling to himself now.

“Minho stop bullying the resident! And as much as I love the both of you …out! I want to nap before my surgeries! “ I say pulling away from the embrace and walking over to the door unlocking and gesturing both the men to leave .

“Rude” I hear both of them mutter before the leave the on call room, I quickly make my way over to one of the beds, setting a alarm on my phone before laying down completely. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to shut and the world to fade away.

Changbins pov ~

As I finish with my last physio therapy patient of the day, I smile wiping the sweat off my forehead after lifting the patient back into their wheelchair.

“You did great Bo ! I think you’ll only need a couple more sessions before we start on the sports rehab “

“That’s what you said the last time!” Bokuto whines a pout forming on his lips, you wouldn’t think this guy is one of the best volleyball players in Japan , he acts like a big kid most of the time. The guys built like a tank too…so this physio process has to be done right to avoid anything worse happening that could end his career.

“Bo like I said before, we don’t want to risk you not being able to play anymore! I think your team and the hospital would kill me if I put a world class athlete out of a job” I laugh slightly at the giant man pouting and push his wheelchair towards the door and signal for a nurse to come collect the giant man.

“I’ll see you on Thursday Bo okay?” The man nods before he’s wheeled away , i start cleaning up physio room , wiping down the equipment and putting everything away when my phone pings. It’s a text from jeongin…weird I thought he was with Chan today?

Now I’m really confused! But i resident would be helpful for my exfix in a few hours , just as I’m about to type out my message Felix Beats me too it.

That little! I groan as I put away the last of the equipment before checking the time on my phone . I’ve got a few hours before kihyuns surgery is due to start so I think I’ll go round on my post ops. I walk to the attending lounge where I grab a fresh pair of scrubs and head towards bathroom to have a quick shower. I lock the bathroom door behind me and turn on the shower waiting for it to heat up before I strip off my dirty scrubs and step under the streaming water. I start to wash my body and just as I’m about to rinse out my hair my phone pings loudly, I ignore it momentarily as I shake my hair out slightly getting rid as any suds as I can before my phone starts to ping again and again and again.

Oh no… I quickly turn off the shower and don’t even dry my body properly as I shake like a dog coming out of the water getting changed into the fresh scrubs and I quickly check my phone only having to see the numbers 911 and one of my post ops names next to it before I take off running down the halls.

“shit shit shit!!! Todays not my day!! “ I breathe a I run to my patients room where the nurses and interns are performing CPR on my patient!

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!” I shout out of breath from running and from panic.

Y/N POV ~

“Y/N…Y/N come on wake up sleepy head” i start to wake up to someone slightly shaking my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name . The shaking gets a little more violent as I refuse to move burrowing myself into the pillow more.

“You better have a good reason for this yunho or I’m going to kick your lanky ass” I mumble into the pillow face first .

“As cute at that threat is Y/N you need to get up” yunho chuckles as I sit up rubbing my eyes slightly

“ it wasn’t a threat…it was a promise . So spill why have you woke me up? “ I wink at yunho fixing my hair slightly as I yawn.

“Kihyuns surgery has been pushed to Tomorrow, one of Changbin’s patients had some unforeseen complications and has had to be rushed back into surgery they don’t know how long they’re gonna be” I pick the pillow i was just sleeping on up and bring it to my face screaming into slightly before pulling it away and looking at Yunhos face .

“Does the family know?” I say although I already know the answer from the way his face shifts uncomfortably, I roll my eyes and get up from the bed , my feet meeting the cool floor of the on call room. I walk over to a mirror to fix my bed head and straighten out my white coat and sit on the edge of my bed putting on my shoes.

“Thank you for letting me know , I’ll go inform them now. Keep my posted on Bins surgery though…please “ yunho nods waving his phone at me before walking out of the room .

Even though I’m not on his biggest fan ,I know this will hit him hard. I wasn’t joking when I said Changbin is one of the best in his field he rarely has post op problems so this is going to be a major blow to his ego. As much as I’d normally love seeing the mans ego be taken down a peg or two, but not like this…he deserves to have a big head, he’s good at what he does and there’s no denying that.

Once I’ve sorted out my appearance I step out of the room and start making my way to kihyuns room, as I do I look through one of the windows I’m passing to see jisoo in the room next door to kihyun. I giggle to myself at the irony of my two surgeries being next to eachother and quickly wave as I catch jisoos moms eyes following me . I pop my head into the room smiling.

“Settling in?” I giggle at jisoo who looks very content in her Bluey pajamas as the same show plays on one of her parents phones a small nod coming from the girl.

“I’ll be back soon after ive talked to the patient next door and finished getting prepped for the surgery . I’ll see you soon jisoo “ I smile and quickly remove my head from the doorway and walk to the next room that happens to be kihyuns.

“How are you feeling bud?” I put on my best smile for kihyun who briefly looks up from whatever he was playing on his phone giving me a nod before turning his attention back to his game.

His mom laughs slightly at her sons actions her body language a lot more relaxed than when I last saw her.

“I’m sorry doctor, he’s been stuck in that game for a hour now.”

I shake my head while giggling at kihyuns mothers words letting her know it’s okay , I quickly check his morphine drip and note mentally to tell the nurses that it will need refilling in a hour or two especially since his surgery has been postponed. Now to the tricky part telling a parent isn’t getting the surgery they need today.

“I’ve got some bad news, Doctor Seos been rushed into a emergency surgery so he won’t be able to do your surgery today kihyun. We will do it tomorrow! I promise but In the mean time ,I’ll make sure the nurses keep you comfortable though and just press your call button if you need anything. I’m so sorry” I bow at kihyun and his mother who I now know is called somin from reading over kihyuns chart.

“It’s all good”kihyun doesn’t look up from his game.

“No…No it’s not all good baby! Couldn’t another surgeon do it?! Surely you guys have other orthopaedics surgeons! “ Somin exclaims

“Mom chill out… it’s fine! Doctor seo can’t help being rushed into surgery and like Doctor L/N said he’s the best!. Don’t you want me to have best!” Kihyun exclaims throwing his phone down

“One of the best ,we do have other surgeons who could preform the surgery all who are excellent in their field but they all have their own patients and I cant say even if we changed surgeons the surgery would go ahead today” I butt in quickly

Somin just nods and looks down at her feet.

“I’m sorry for my outburst “ bowing her head slightly she walks over to her son and ruffles his hair slightly before kissing his head .

“No no please don’t apologise! I completely understand it’s scary having a child in the hospital and you just want them to get better quickly! Please don’t apologise “ I say frantically slightly waving my hands in panic.

“I’m really sorry I’ve got to go guys, I’ve got a surgery to prep for but like I said if you need anything just ring the call button and nurse will be in” I smile softly before heading towards the door and leaving , I quickly tap donghyuck/haechan one of our peads nurses and ask him to keep an eye on kihyun for me and monitor his pain meds to which he just smiles and nods at me placing a small tap on my head.

“Sure thing short stack”

I grumble at the nickname and poke him in the waist which makes him come out with a high pitched squeak. The noise draws the attention of a few other staff on the floor and Haechans face turns a satisfying shade of pink.

“Now now no need to violent geeez it’s always the short ones” before I can get a swipe at the nurse again he quickly goes into Kihyuns room to introduce himself.

I start to walk my way around the floor rounding on my patients making sure everyone’s comfortable as they can be and discharging a few who’s progress I’m happy with as I’m about to my way back to the on call room where I was previously napping before I was rudely interrupted. 

I remember I should probably text Hyunjin and him which closing suture he thinks will better to not leave a nasty scar on jisoo. not that I’m not confident in my skills , it’s just he’s always been neater at these sort of things than me, anytime he closed a patient it hardly ever leaves a scar after it’s healed up. It’s why Sehun snatched him up quickly to be his fellow, I think he saw a lot of himself in Hyunjin or that’s at least what the chief says. I’m an attending I’ve done plenty of these surgeries! I don’t need hyunjin…I put my phone away deciding against texting him. Plus it’s his day off…he’ll probably just give me a sarcastic answer and I’m not in the mood for that today .

My phone buzzes bringing me out of my day dream once again, I pull it out and see a text from Seungmin.

I giggle at my own responses.He must really want something if he’s saying please, I start making my way towards the stairs deciding I’ve taken the elevator too much today . On my way to the stairs I pass the nurses station putting my iPad down onto the docking station, I notice a certain someone as stand up straight I make my way over to them as they have their back turned to me.

I stalk over to the person , I motion my finger to my lips so the nurse infront conversing with my target knowing not to let them know of my presence.

”BOO!” I shout and I stand on my tiptoes to press my hands on their shoulders in a jolting motion. A high pitched scream rips from the haechans throat as he spins around to face me his hand clutched over his chest. His high pitched scream causing attention on the floor to be on him once again.

“That’s for the short comment” I say laughing,my eyes start watering, I clutch my stomach with my right hand and wipe my tears with my left. Haechan does not look impressed with prank.I start to walk away winking and blowing a kiss at haechan before pushing the door to the staircase open.

I start making my way down the stairs, humming this new pop song that’s one of the teenagers on the floor hasn’t stopped listen too since she’d been admitted , the cardio floor is only a couple floors down from peads so it doesn’t take me long to arrive onto the floor pushing the door open I start looking around on the floor for the sign for the on call room seungmin said to meet him in. I don’t really come down here much not since being an resident at least. As I walk down the hallway I smile and bow politely at the head of cardio Doyoung who smiles back before turning back to his nurse. I finally finding the on call room seungmin said to meet him here only to see it’s empty.

Soon enough seungmin comes into the on call room, blood on his scrubs and hair dishevelled . I giggle as I take in his appearance but the giggle quickly goes away as he locks the door behind him.

“Promise me you won’t laugh” he says with a stern face.

“Minnie you’re scaring me , what’s wrong? “ I say a look of worry painting itself across my face as I step forward to seungmin.

“y/n swear to god you will not laugh”

“Okay okay I promise!, now tell me what’s wrong!” I say waving my hands up on the air in protest

“I think I’ve got an std…I need you to take a look” sengmins face going completely red now.

“WHAT! Why me?!?!” I say my eyes going wide and a small laugh leaves my throat which causes seungmin to glare at me

“Because well I didn’t know who to ask! And well the others will laugh! ” seungmin says now looking down at his shoes refusing to meet my eyes that’s a lie .

“…surely jisung would’ve been the better person ya know since he’s general “

“Oh yeah cause han fucking jisung wouldn’t laugh at me…please y/n I just need you to take a look because I’m not 100% sure what it is!. Surely you seen teenagers with these all the time!” Seungmin pleads looking me in the eye this time.

“You owe be big time…but I’m going to need gloves “ I say going to door unlocking it before stepping out to find the cardio supply closet, which I find relatively quickly I grab a pair of my sizes gloves from the glove draw stuffing them in my pocket before exiting the closet. I look around quickly checking no one saw me before going back into the on call room where seungmin is anxious standing against the wall.

“Well drop your pants Kim” I say putting on the gloves, a groan leaving seungmin as he hooks his fingers in the waist band of his scrub trousers and boxers pulling them down his face turning bright red.

“I have no idea how you became a doctor”

————————————————————————

Taglist:

@emogril @bangchanssparelaptop @downtherabbithole01-blog @Uniqueturtlemoon @studyingstayblr @Skzbinnielixie @Deakyspuff @reighlee-greaves s@tired-teacher-blog @uhsuki @liheartfelix @septicrebel @Rrrrrrrrrrriii @NIYAHJOURNALS @martialartmushroom @mitsuyuki-hime @yellobeemae

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 6

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | ... | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Tags:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @ bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar @sukeraa

Bucky refused to leave the omega’s side while she stayed in the lab. Bruce had to stop him from trying to crawl onto the bed with her, and after about the third time, he convinced the super soldier to just pull up a chair like a civilized person and hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep again. Now that she was with her alpha, she had settled down for another nap, more interested in resting than answering any more questions so long as Bucky stayed and kept an eye on her. 

Steve had to admit, it was endearing. He had never seen his friend so absolutely enraptured like this. Whenever the omega, or Ten, as Bruce was still calling her, shifted in her sleep, Bucky’s eyes were snapping over to make sure that she was okay. Whenever she let out a little whimper, he was purring and stroking her hair. Whenever she seemed like she might wake up again, his attention was completely on her.

“So...sure you don’t remember her?” Steve asked, pulling up a chair. He had left for a few hours to work out, and after a lack of updates from FRIDAY, he headed back down to check on everything. They were exactly as he had left them, which was a good sign. At least nothing was getting out of hand. 

Yet.

Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of the omega’s hand with his thumb. “I dunno. It’s...foggy.”

“Well, it seems to me like you’ve either got a history together, or she’s mistaking you for someone else.” Steve said. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to do the latter.”

“I’ve dreamt of her.” Bucky said quietly. 

“...what?”

“It’s not much, but...I’ve seen her face.” Bucky looked down at her. “I think that no matter how many times HYDRA wiped my memory, she’s always been in there. Kinda like the one constant that was always around, the one thing I could always count on being in the base with me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Steve asked.

“Never knew if she was real or not.” Bucky sighed. “I thought...maybe she was just something my mind made up to fill some of the gaps. But she smells exactly like I remember.”

Steve sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his friend. Bucky wasn’t snarling anymore, most of his attention trained on the omega while she slept. Now that he was close to her, he had calmed down significantly, though he still wouldn’t let Steve within five feet of her bed. 

“Just got off the phone with Tony,” Bruce announced, walking in. “He and Pepper will be back tonight. Pepper’s having some clothes and personal items delivered for our new omega friend here. They also asked about renovating a more permanent room for her, but I, uh...told them I wasn’t exactly sure what the situation would be.”

“She’s staying with me,” Bucky said immediately. 

“Now hang on, hang on,” Steve leaned forward. 

“Steve,” Bucky growled. “I want her with me.”

“Buck, you don’t even know her—“

Bucky interrupted him with a loud snarl, the omega in question whining and squirming in her sleep at the sound of it. 

He immediately shut up, brushing a thumb over her cheek and shushing her until she was sleeping soundly again. Fuck, he felt so stupid. What was wrong with him? She could have woken up, or been scared, or upset, all because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. She needed her rest, and he needed to stay quiet. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Oh, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re in deep.”

—

Amoretta woke feeling well rested, and it wasn’t until she tried to stretch and felt the tug of her IV drip that she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes revealed the bright lights of the lab, and as she started to sit up, a few faces came into view.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Bruce said. “How are you feelin’?”

She licked her lips. “Juice box. Now.”

“Way ahead of you. Had this one waiting as soon as you started waking up.” He tossed one to her and was pleased when her hand shot up to catch it. “Reflexes look good. Vitals are all reading normal. I’ll have to run another test to see what’s going on with those suppressants, but I’m willing to bet you’re metabolizing them fairly quickly now. How are you feeling?”

She pulled the little straw off the back of the carton and jammed it into the top. “Nauseous. Like usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Side effect of the suppressants?”

“Always has been. Other than that...I feel great, actually.”

“Well, as soon as these wear off, we can figure out something nicer and more modern for you. If you want to use them, I mean.” Bruce shrugged. “Your choice.”

She smiled. “Choice. I like that.”

“Hey, we’re all about independence here,” Steve said happily. He was glad to see she was awake, even though Bucky wasn’t.

The other alpha was still at her side, but, as of about half an hour ago, he was napping. Steve made a mental note to never let him forget the way he slept straight through the one moment he had been waiting for all day. 

“What time is it?” She asked. “There’s no windows in this damn place.”

“Just after dinner,” Bruce chuckled. “You slept most of the day. Bucky hasn’t left your side.”

She looked over to her soldier, smiling warmly at the sight of him sleeping. He was even snoring softly. “I haven’t gotten to see this in forty years.”

“Did you two, uh…” Steve cleared his throat. “Spend a lot of time together?”

The omega laughed. “You always this awkward around girls?”

“That’s not—“

“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She sucked on her straw. “But...yeah, we did.”

“So...you were just kept for his ruts, or…” Steve was so awkward it was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think.”

“It’s okay. I know my lot in life.” She kept her eyes trained on Bucky as she spoke. “But if I’m going to answer more questions, I want to get out of this bed. And I want real clothes. Then I’ll talk.”

And so, only several minutes later, Bruce was handing her a sweater and some shorts he had grabbed from a little stash of extra clothing, and Bucky was startled awake by Ten stepping past him. She was finally free from all the tubes and cords that had been sticking out of her during her little hospital stay, and she was all too eager now to explore the tower.

She stood on wobbly legs, almost falling onto him when she tried to take a step. Bucky was up in a flash, ready to catch her, and as she fell against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Despite just waking up, he felt fully alert, completely ready to tend to his omega’s every need. 

His omega...he liked that train of thought. 

“We can head up to the common area. It should still be quiet.” Steve said, leading the way out. 

Bucky kept an arm around his omega’s waist as they followed, Bruce bringing up the rear. He wanted to be touching her at all times, constantly in contact so that he couldn’t lose track of her. His instincts were roaring to life, demanding that he do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and in his line of sight. The elevator ride was tense and full of possessive growling, Bucky constantly shoving Ten behind him to keep her in the corner and as far away from Steve as possible, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open and they could step out of the cramped space again. 

The common area was empty, thankfully, FRIDAY informing them that the other Avengers were all either working out or in their private quarters. 

“Good,” Steve said, heading towards the couches. “No interruptions. Got it, FRIDAY?”

“Understood, Captain Rogers.”

“C’mere,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his omega down to sit on one of the couches with him. Part of him was feeling a little sheepish and self conscious of his behavior...but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The others could stare and shake their heads all they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let Ten slip through his fingers again. 

Or whatever her name was. 

Steve and Bruce sat across from them, making sure that they left as much space as possible between themselves and the new omega. Neither of them had ever seen Bucky behaving quite like this--he was on guard, hyper aware of everything around him. He made sure that she was pressed up against his side, an arm draped possessively over the back of the couch so that it was unmistakable that she was with him.

Christ, what had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember ever acting this way about an omega before. 

“So…” Steve cleared his throat, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.

Bucky didn’t really like the way his posture made him lean forward towards his omega, but he could deal with it for now. “So.”

“What do you wanna know?” Ten asked, plucking at Bucky’s shirt. She seemed to be even clingier with him than he was with her, perfectly happy to be hanging off him or tucked up against his side. “You met my demands. I guess I’m an open book now.”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds,” Steve said. “We just need to know as much as you’re willing to share.”

“Then ask a question.”

“...Alright.” he cleared his throat again. “You said HYDRA used you to help with Bucky’s ruts?”

Ten nodded, her expression remaining even and cool. 

“Could you tell us more about that?” Steve glanced at Bucky. “Were there ever any other omegas, or anyone we should know about?”

“There were omegas before me.” she answered. “When I first got to the compound, there were a lot of us. They kept us all in big cells, so everyone talked. People said things about how HYDRA was grabbing omegas off the street for their super soldiers, and how the one at our base was the biggest and scariest.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her tone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected her to sound like while she regaled them with her life story, but he definitely thought there would be a tad bit more apprehension in her voice. She seemed proud of herself, and more matter-of-fact than a lot of omegas would be while talking about their alpha’s previous partners. Or...whatever you called prisoners whose only purpose was to help during ruts.

“And I bet he was,” she sighed, leaning her cheek on Bucky’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Bucky said, an almost shy smile on his lips. And...was he actually blushing?

Steve was going to lose his mind. 

“You said the other omegas couldn’t handle it? That’s why you were given the serum?” he prompted, trying to keep them on track before he drowned in the sticky sweetness of her happy pheromones. 

“Right.” she turned her attention back to Steve and Bucky let out a quiet huff. “HYDRA didn’t really like to take care of us. And the soldier--I mean, Bucky--would wear them out. So...HYDRA would just kind of let them go. Or put them down, maybe. I never saw it.”

Bucky’s expression dropped. His blush was gone, and he almost looked like he was going to be sick as he listened to her talk.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly, glancing between him and Steve. “I don’t think it was ever on purpose, you were just...demanding.”

He gave a groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, doll. I’d rather know what I did, at this point.”

She offered a small shrug. “I don’t really remember it being that bad, but I don’t think I ever met you before they gave me the serum.”

“That’s something, at least.” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Why you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any prior military experience, any ties to something the others didn’t?”

“No.” she laughed. “I never even got in fights before HYDRA.”

“Then why’d they use such an important resource on you, specifically? Not trying to take a dig at you, it’s just...well, omegas don’t usually…”

“I know,” she said. “Omegas aren’t supposed to be tough, right? That’s why they only ever let alphas become super soldiers.”

“That’s not what I…” Steve trailed off and then sighed. “Sorry.”

“I told you, they gave me the serum so that I would be strong enough to hold my own. It also ensured I would always be around, no matter how many years passed.” Her fingers found Bucky’s free hand and she took it, absentmindedly playing with the smooth vibranium knuckles. “Having me as a constant meant they could stop spending so much time and effort on always having a new omega around for him. Plus…well, I wasn’t really there, but I heard something about it once…”

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“They let you choose who was going to become your omega.” She said, looking up at him. “They gave you a bunch of scents, and you chose mine. I guess it was the only reason they didn’t, uh...humanely euthanize me.”

His eyes were wide. The thought of HYDRA killing his omega brought a low growl to his throat, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of it. “No.”

“Well, clearly they didn’t!” She said brightly. “My file said I was a kicker.”

“So they gave you, an already aggressive omega, the serum, but never gave you any trigger words or fished around in your brain?” Bruce shook his head. “Surprisingly sloppy, considering who they are.”

“It’s not like they ever sent me out into the world. I stayed in my cell all day, unless I was needed for a rut. Then I went and stayed in a different cell.” She sighed. “And if they ever needed to, they could just use the alpha to grab me.”

Bucky clearly didn’t like the thought of that. He made a frustrated sound, leaning his head back again. “Great.”

“It was never bad.” She let go of his hand, moving her fingers to cup his jaw. “You never hurt me. You wouldn’t. Sometimes, when I acted up, they would make you go retrieve me, because they knew you were the only one who could do it. If they didn’t send you, they would just knock me out.”

“So...that was it?” Steve asked. “Ruts, serum, cryo?”

“For thirty years!” She chirped. “The last time they froze me, they were freezing him, too. They always tried to keep us in cryo at the same time so that I could be thawed out and ready when he needed me. But...I guess they just...left me there?” She frowned. 

“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Steve said. “I didn’t see any signs of a struggle at that base. I’d say they left in an orderly fashion, but the fact that they didn’t take you along makes me think they were in more of a hurry than they made it seem.”

“Natasha might have a better idea,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk to her, try to figure out—“

“FRIDAY, open the damn door or so help me God I will rewrite your entire personality.” A voice interrupted from the other side of the door. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, but Captain Rogers asked me not to.” The AI said. 

“Well, is it an emergency?” The man scoffed.

“No emergency measures have been executed. No security breaches have been identified.”

“Then I’m sorry, but Captain Rogers does not outrank me when it comes to my own robots. Open the door, beautiful.”

She seemed to sigh. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”

Ten perked up, leaning forward slightly. She was watching the door curiously, tilting her head a little when she heard it slide open. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself quietly and pulling her up against his side as another alpha strode in. 

“Really? Having a party without me?” the man asked, a smooth, casual air about him as he walked in and looked at everyone on the couches. When his eyes landed on the omega cuddled up next to Bucky, he stopped. “Ah, is this our new guest?”

“Go away, Stark.” Bucky growled. He didn’t like how long the other man’s gaze was lingering on his omega, not when there weren’t any scars on her neck to show who she belonged to.

“Always such a charmer, Barnes.” Tony said, flopping down next to Steve. “Lovely to see you, too. Care to introduce me to your friend? ….No, you’d rather just snarl and forget your words? I knew you were old, but I didn’t realize you were actually a caveman.”

“Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t aggravate him. Please.”

“Why not?” Tony leaned back against the cushions, completely at ease and totally happy to be pressing every one of Bucky’s buttons. 

“Are you Tony Stark?” Ten asked, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip to sit on the edge of their couch. 

Bucky caught her around the waist before she could get very far, though, and dragged her onto his lap. He loomed over her, sneering dangerously at Tony as the other alpha flashed a smile. 

“Bingo.” he said. 

“I never thought I’d meet a Stark,” she admitted. “I always heard about Stark Industries, but I lived too far away from any big cities to ever get to see any of his exhibitions.”

“Ah. You’re from my father’s time. Of course.” Tony shot a pointed glare in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like Bruce left out a few teensy weensy important details on the phone today.”

“Well, it’s been, uh...an ongoing learning experience.” Bruce said sheepishly. 

“Lots of developments, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“You could say that.” Steve said under his breath. “We came up here so Ten could be more comfortable while we talk.”

“Oh yeah? What’re we talkin’ about?” Tony asked. 

“They were asking about my time with HYDRA,” she answered, cutting in before anyone else could. “And with...Bucky.”

Saying his name felt odd. Her tongue wasn’t used to it, and her mind wanted to call him alpha, or Winter Soldier. Bucky just seemed so…casual, such a strange thing to call a deadly super soldier. When she heard herself, though, she decided that she definitely didn’t hate it. 

Bucky’s heart gave a little leap at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again, in whispers and in screams, for nobody else’s ears but his. 

“...Buck?” Steve asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You, uh, kinda zoned out there.”

It wasn’t until Bucky looked at Steve that he realized his eyes had been trained on the omega in his lap. “Yeah?”

“...Is this seriously how you’ve spent the past day and a half?” Tony asked. “Steve, I’m sorry, and I’m sure you’re just trying to be as helpful as you can be, like always, but I think you should let these two get a room.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Tony, really? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why exactly HYDRA would abandon the omega they pumped full of super soldier serum. They can get a room later—“

“Yeah, uh, wonder boy? I don’t think your pal is gonna last much longer before he tries to rip our heads off.” Tony nodded towards a very disgruntled Bucky. “You can resume your interrogation tomorrow, Cap.”

Steve looked to Bruce for help, but he only offered a small shrug and stood, heading towards the door. “He’s right, Steve. They deserve some alone time.”

“But—hey!” Steve protested as Bucky picked his omega up, striding past the two alphas sitting on the opposite couch. 

“Thanks for everything, Steve.” Bucky said over his shoulder. 

Ten squirmed, peeking around Bucky’s arm as she was carried away. “Bye, Mr. Stark!”

“Don’t look at him,” Bucky growled as they walked out the door. 

“Did his father really make hoverboards? I heard once that Howard was promising hoverboards—“

“No.” He said flatly. 

“...oh.” She huffed, slumping against him. “Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” Bucky stepped into the elevator, his grip still tight around her. 

The omega perked up. “You have a whole apartment?”

He puffed his chest out a little. “Course I do. Gotta have a nice place for you, don’t I?”

“So I can stay?” Her eyes were bright and happy. “I can stay there, with you, all the time? Not just when you rut?”

He felt a sad little pang in his heart. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “I mean, uh...i-if you want to, that is. I know it’s fast and all, and maybe...would you rather have your own room? Or I can stay on the couch—“

“Bucky,” she cut him off with a laugh, a soft hand cupping his jaw. “You’ve been my alpha for seventy years. I’d say we’re actually moving pretty slow.”

His expression relaxed again, lips stretching into a small smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride in comfortable silence, Bucky rubbing his scent glands all over her hair. He wanted to make sure that the next time they encountered anyone else, she smelled exactly like him.

Like her alpha.

When the elevator came to a gentle stop at Bucky’s floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out in front of his apartment door. It opened for him, having already scanned his biometrics, revealing a small, but cozy, living room. 

He set his omega down on her feet, watching anxiously as she stepped into his quarters. Did she like it? Fuck, was it too small? It was too small. She probably hated it. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he had to salvage this somehow. 

“Well, uh…” shit, he sounded too nervous. He wanted her to think he was a strong, capable alpha. 

He cleared his throat for another start. “Welcome home, Omega.” 

Wait. That wasn’t right. Should he be calling her that? No, probably not, it sounded too possessive, too uncaring. He wished he just knew her fucking name, or something. 

“I mean…Ten?”

Shit, he sounded so stupid. He wanted to impress her, not...do whatever this was.

She just laughed, though, turning and looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like starlight. “Amoretta. My name is Amoretta.”

[starryhyuck]

sleep well? (m) | incubus!jaehyun

pairing: incubus!jaehyun x human!reader

words: 2.9k+

summary: occupied with work and a numerous amount of projects, you haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep in a while. jaehyun can help with that.

genre: smut

warnings: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, talks of large amounts of cum, nipple play, hair pulling, overstimulation, mention of pregnancy

“Still can’t sleep?” Yangyang asks and takes a small sip of the tea you made for him.

“Hasn’t it been days already?” Taeyong questions worriedly. “You should see a doctor.”

You brushed him off, slouching on your dusty couch. Lately, you had been so backed up with work and projects for your classes that sleep had been the last thing on your mind. You were jumping from the late shift at the campus cafe to meeting up with your lab partner to finish the last leg of your final project. For the past few days, you had slept four or five hours at the most.

“Why don’t you just take a sleeping pill and have a night off?” Mark suggests, even more worried than Taeyong. “You deserve it, you’ve been working so hard.”

“I’m fine, guys. Honestly,” you reassure, but Taeyong and Mark still glance at you worriedly. Yangyang nods at you, scrolling through his phone before laughing at another video on Instagram.

Doyeon shoves him and he glares at her. “What was that for?”

She rolls her eyes, standing up to sit next to you on the couch. “Y/N, you seriously need to sleep. Overworking yourself is not the answer. Just take a night off of work and get a good rest.”

“I’ll think about it, alright? Seriously, you guys don’t need to worry about me. I’m gonna be fine.”

The group exchanges glances with one another before looking at the resolve of your expression. The topic wasn’t brought up again that night.

—

You might be growing delirious.

The words on your computer screen are starting to blur together, and your hands are shaking from a lack of sleep.

Maybe Doyeon’s right, a good rest wouldn’t hurt.

You close your laptop in favor of finding warmth beneath your comforter. However, as soon as you close your eyes, you feel a pair of warm lips pressing gentle kisses to your neck.

Your eyes open wide as you stare at the man before you. He was devilishly handsome, dimples peeking out as he smiled at you. There was something in his smile — something so mischievous that you felt like you were missing the punchline of a joke.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, sending a shudder down your spine.

You pull your comforter up to your chin, suddenly feeling exposed in his presence. “W-Who are you?”

He tilts his head and smiles at your innocent question. You finally take note of what he’s wearing — nothing but a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants. It’s something any guy on campus would wear and for some reason, it calms you a little bit to see him.

He doesn’t answer your question, instead choosing to slip his hand in your panties, playing with your folds gently. You moan, back arching off the bed at the simple pleasure you felt from his small actions. You don’t even have to take a glance at him to know he’s smiling at you. His lips return to kissing up and down your neck.

“I heard someone’s having a hard time sleeping.”

You blink, trying to register his words as he slips a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you try to think about how he could’ve known. Was he a friend of Taeyong and Mark’s? The two boys were members of a nearby fraternity so the assumption wasn’t too far off. But that still didn’t explain how he managed to enter your apartment.

Before you have time to question him further, he slips another finger into you, his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit. You try to hold back your moans in fear of being too loud. The walls aren’t exactly paper thin and you would prefer not to run into any awkward encounters with your neighbors in the elevator.

“What’s holding you back, angel? Sing for me,” he commands, his fingers curling up. You release a breathy moan and it seems to please him, as he begins scissoring his fingers inside of you. “Good girl. Baby just wants some sleep, huh?”

You nod and reach for the band of his sweatpants, desperate to feel full. He smiles at your actions, pulling his fingers out and shoving his sweatpants down his legs, kicking the fabric off of him.

Your eyes glimmer at the sight of his cock, the tip angry and red, precum already leaking. He’s massive to say the least, and your mouth waters at the sight of him, eager to feel him inside of you. You realize how long it’s been since you actually slept with someone, and you glance up at him.

He chuckles at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. The kiss is soft and gentle, nothing you would’ve expected from him. He pulls away to whisper in your ear. “I��ve been waiting for this for so long, sweet angel. Will you let me inside?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, yes,” you beg. “Please, I want to feel full.”

His eyes darken at your words and suddenly his aura completely changes. His stance becomes intimidating and his grin turns more devilish. You feel a little nervous at his stare, as if he was a predator looking at his prey.

He pulls down your shorts and panties, lining himself up at your entrance and pushing inside. You gasp at the intrusion, pain overtaking your body. You feel him nipping at your neck as he bottoms out. He releases a sigh of relief while your body gets accustomed to his cock.

“Sweet angel just wants to sleep,” he muses before giving a shallow thrust. The pain morphs into pleasure as his thrusts accelerate. “Just wants a big cock to fill her small pussy up so she can feel better, right?”

You moan loudly at his rapid pace, feeling as if you’re floating with the amount of pleasure he’s providing you. You’re approaching your first orgasm without having any stimulation to your clit, something no one’s been able to do to you before.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you repeat, fingers grasping his shoulders tightly.

“Come, sweet angel,” he encourages. His cock had to be moving at an inhuman pace, where you could feel every thrust in your belly.

“So deep,” you gasp, almost as if you could feel him in your throat. You nearly scream when the cord in you snaps, your orgasm completely enveloping your body in pleasure.

He fucks you as you recover from your first orgasm, and you squirm at the overstimulation. “Take it,” he groans, hand coming up to curl around your neck. “Take it like a fucking whore.”

You release an incoherent noise at the name, and he smiles down at you. “Yeah, you like that, huh? You like being nothing but a cum dumpster for me. Such a whore. You’ll do anything to get a good sleep.”

You claw at his chest as the pain from the overstimulation ebbs away, once again overtaken by pleasure. You swear you can see stars at this point and you’re drunk over his cock, wanting to have him inside of you all the time.

“Where do you want my cum, sweet angel?” He asks, fingers tightening around your windpipe.

“Inside, please,” you choke out and he grins, pleased with your answer.

It’s not long before you feel yourself tipping over the edge again, seeing white as you convulse around him. He groans when your pussy tightens around him and he follows in pursuit, pushing deep inside as cum shoots inside of you.

When you come to, you realize how long he’s been cumming. A minute has almost passed before he’s finally satisfied, body slumping on top of you. You feel completely full of his cum, and some of it starts to drip out of you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you, sweet angel.”

Your vision starts to become hazy and the sight of him is blurry. “I never got your name,” you whisper in realization, your body starting to succumb to slumber.

“You can call me Jaehyun. Sleep well, sweet angel.”

Your eyes blink rapidly as you wake from your sleep, the light of the dawn peeking through your window. You try to make sense of your surroundings, patting the other side of your bed to see where Jaehyun had gone.

He was nowhere to be found, but when you try to get up from your bed, you feel something sticky between your thighs. You throw the comforter off of your body, eyes widening at the sight of an exorbitant amount of cum staining your pajama shorts.

Your ears attune to any sort of noise outside, but you hear nothing. Jaehyun was gone.

Was it all a dream?

—

“You look better,” Mark remarks, settling down across from you with a large americano in his hand. “Did you finally get some sleep?”

“Yes, thankfully,” you murmur, taking a sip from your own drink.

Taeyong smiles in relief. “Glad to hear. Did you take one of those sleeping pills?”

You feel embarrassed at the thought of yesterday’s events. When you awoke, you were late for your first class but you had managed to get the best sleep of your life. Still, you couldn’t seem to distinguish whether you made Jaehyun up in your dreams or if he was actually real. The amount of cum left between your thighs seemed to agree with the latter.

“Not really. I just managed to fall asleep,” you mutter uncomfortably, moving in your seat.

Mark and Taeyong seem to accept your response, both of the boys glad you finally managed to get some rest.

“Hey,” you clear your throat, wondering how you should approach the conversation. “Do the both of you know of a guy named Jaehyun?”

Their faces curl in confusion at the name. Mark shakes his head. “No, never heard of him. Why? Is he rushing soon?”

“No,” you wave off. “I just know him from somewhere. Thought you guys would’ve heard of him.”

“Don’t think I have,” Taeyong shrugs. “Maybe Yangyang has. That kid knows half of the entire campus.”

All of you chuckle, and the Jaehyun conversation is forgotten.

—

You tap your finger on your chin thoughtfully, staring at your empty fridge. You knew your forgot to do something earlier. You sigh, moving to sort through your pantry cabinet.

Spam it is, then.

You take out the container and your cutting board, ready to begin making a dinner fit for college students. You gasp in shock when a pair of hands slither around your waist, someone’s chin resting on your shoulder.

“Is that what you’re eating for dinner?”

You recognize the voice that’s been haunting your thoughts for the past few days. Your hands grip the cutting board.

“How did you get in?” You whisper breathlessly, unsure of how to approach the situation.

He places a kiss on the nape of your neck. “You let me in, remember?”

You don’t recall doing such a thing, but you fail to question him as his hand slips further down your body. “Pretty girl. Have you been able to sleep since I last saw you?”

You shake your head, thinking about the restless nights you’ve been having since he disappeared. “Not really.”

“Poor baby. Did you need my touch to help you sleep?”

You grip the counter as Jaehyun’s hand plays with your folds over your panties. “Yes, yes. Needed you here. Couldn’t sleep without you.”

“I’m here now, baby,” he assures, licking a stripe up your neck. You shudder at the sensation. “Gonna help you sleep.”

You lean back against him as he continues to rub over your folds. “So nice and wet for me. Soaking your panties.”

“You ruined my last pair,” you choke out. “You left so much cum.”

He chuckles darkly, finally pulling aside your underwear to slip a finger into you. You keen at the touch. “Sorry, sweet angel. I couldn’t help it — I didn’t cum for so long and your pussy was so sweet.” He pauses and enters another finger into you. “Think you need another good fuck to get some sleep, baby.”

“I think so too,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers curl inside you.

He whispers softly in your ear. “Been wanting to ruin you again. Seeing you so pliant for me, so submissive, it got me so worked up baby. Wanted to make you wait for it so I could give you another big load of cum. Would you like that, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” you exclaim and he slips a third finger into you. “I want it badly, Jaehyun. Please please please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers slipping out of you. He quickly shoves them in your mouth and you moan around his digits, tasting yourself. He’s quick to work his belt buckle with his other hand and shove his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

He strips you down too, taking his fingers out of your mouth to push your camisole up and cup your breast. You quickly get rid of your shorts and panties and Jaehyun laughs at your eagerness.

“So good for me,” he lines himself up to your entrance and you can’t wait to be full again. When he pushes inside, your back arches and his hand slips around your waist, fingers moving to rub at your clit.

You moan loudly when he bottoms out and Jaehyun grunts. “Sing for me, sweet angel. Let everyone know who owns you.”

And you sing for him. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard you’re gripping the counter as Jaehyun ruts against you. He suddenly throws your body over the kitchen counter, thrusting in and out rapidly.

“Cream my cock, baby. Want to feel you,” he moans, pulling your hair so that he can hear you.

Your body twitches as you come first, lips parting open in pure pleasure. You chant Jaehyun’s name as you come down from your high, feeling like you’re in a permanent state of bliss.

Jaehyun continues to fuck you without any signs of stopping, groans leaving him here and there. “Feel so good, baby. Waited so long for this. So so good for me.”

You babble incoherently as you let him use you, your second orgasm building up in your tummy. You could feel every part of him yet somehow you craved more. You wanted all of his cum, just so you could feel full after he left.

“Jaehyun, I want all your cum. Please, want to feel you.”

He growls, pulling you up against him. His hands move to cup your breasts again, fingers rolling over your nipples. You envelop his mouth into a kiss as he continues to thrust into you.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” he hisses. “All you want is cum. I gave you such a big load the other day but you already want more.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant against his mouth. Your mind was literally empty — all you could think about was his cock.

“Show me you want it,” he demands, pinching your clit. That’s all it takes to send you over the edge, coming around him again.

You don’t even register that he’s coming inside you until you feel warmth in your belly. You slouch against him and his arms snake around you.

“Such a pretty girl,” he muses. You stare up at him.

“Don’t want you to leave,” you murmur against his skin, leaning up to kiss him. He smiles against your mouth.

“Who said I’m leaving? I don’t think you’re tired yet, baby. My job’s not done yet.”

“What?” You ask, but it falls on deaf ears as you’re once again thrown over the counter.

Jaehyun thrusts into you, already hard again. You moan, knowing you have a long night ahead of you.

—

A knock on your door disrupts your slumber.

“Y/N?” Doyeon’s voice filters through your apartment. “Hello? Are you in there?”

Sitting up on your couch, you call out blearily. “Yeah! Give me a sec!”

When you try to get up, you feel something dripping. Your eyes glance downward and there’s a huge stain on your couch. Your pajama shorts are soaked, and your panties feel like there’s a huge load of cum inside.

“Um,” you mumble, raising your voice to call out to Doyeon again. “I’m not feeling well! Rain check?”

You hear her laugh outside of your door. “Fine! I’ll go bug Yangyang. Feel better and get some sleep!”

If only she knew.

—

You yawned as Mark recited his essay back to you. He had come over a hour ago, freaking out about his final term essay he needed to turn in.

“Well? Does it sound like I’ll fail?”

You laugh. “Mark, the essay sounds fine. You’re overthinking.”

He scoffs. “I’m most definitely not. You don’t know what this professor’s like — he hates me.”

“Who could hate you?” You laugh at the idea of anyone hating Mark Lee.

He just rolls his eyes. “I knew I should’ve started working on it two weeks ago. He said it was due the 28th but I didn’t have time until two days ago.”

“Wait, what did you say?” You pause, suddenly feeling incredibly ill.

“That it’s due tonight? On the 28th?”

You blink at him. No way. That’s impossible.

“You okay, Y/N? You’ve been sleeping better, right?”

You take a deep breath and smile at him. “Yeah. I’m good. Something just came to mind.”

You’re late.

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) -- part three

I did not expect to get so invested in this damn fic but here I am :))

Summary: The one in which Tony invites you to the “family dinner” but you sleep through it. Also, the “Father Test,” as Tony calls it.

Warnings: angst (what’s new?), talk of food/eating (so sorry, I should’ve tagged this a lot sooner!), medical stuffs (needles, blood being drawn)

A few hours pass by slowly as you doze, floating in between sleep and consciousness, both places completely unsoothing to you.

You wake abruptly when FRIDAY’s voice echoes throughout the room. “Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

With a groan, you sit up, listening to Tony knock — though surprised that he even does.

“Come in,” you sigh.

The door swings open and Tony opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he sees you on the floor. “What…” He glances between you and the bed, giving you an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the perfectly new bed I gave you?”

“The least of your concerns should be that I’m taking a nap on the floor,” you deadpan. “What do you want?”

“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, still looking at you all concerned. “We have a family dinner once a week to...build rapport.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He continues. “You live here now, so...you’re invited. Wanda and Pepper will be there. Bucky, too.” Tony pauses. “Bucky didn’t bother you earlier, did he?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, good.”

“You bothered me, Tony.”

“Right,” Tony nods. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up. I should’ve just been happy that you’re okay.” He pauses again, like he’s having trouble putting all the words together. “I am, by the way. Glad you’re okay. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Thanks,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tony offers a half-smile, half-grimace, because what you don’t know is that he has FRIDAY currently working on a full, extensive background check on your mom. And you, but your mom is top priority. Ever since the conversation in MedBay earlier, he’s been worried. For your safety — both past, present, and future. But he’s also worried about who you really are — and the worst worry of all is that you might not even know.

“Anyway, dinner in a few,” he says. “Nothing fancy. Come as you are, all that bullshit.”

You snicker at his reference.

He tries not to think of it as too much of a win. “Oh and,” he points to the bed, “it really is new. No one’s slept in it before you. And you can adjust the settings on it — softness, heating, cooling, all that. Just,” he pauses again. “FRIDAY, will you show Y/N the control panel?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Your eyes widen when a hologram appears next to the bed, projected onto the wall. There, all the settings — and many more — that Tony mentioned are shown.

“When you get it set where you like, FRIDAY can save it for you,” he explains. “Just for whenever you feel like sleeping in a bed again. I guess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking over at him. “Really, thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, munchkin.” He smiles fully this time as he leaves, closing your door. And to your surprise, he activates Do Not Disturb again.

Food is the last thing on your mind, so instead you head over to the hologram on the wall.

You spend the next hour and a half fixing the settings. Once you get it just right, though, you lie down and you sleep.

Soundly. For five hours.

+++

When you wake again, you’re confused and disoriented to find yourself sleeping in a bed. But you love that your back, shoulders, and hips aren’t screaming in pain for once.

One glance out the window tells you that you’ve definitely missed the dinner Tony invited you to, but you don’t care all that much. You’ve met everyone individually. You didn’t really need or want to go to a big dinner. It seemed pointless.

But, unfortunately, you are hungry, so you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen in search of something resembling food.

One glance at the clock in the hall tells you it’s just past midnight, so you relax even more, knowing you won’t encounter anyone.

Or at least, you hoped.

There, leaned against the kitchen counter, straight up guzzling a glass of water, is Bucky.

At least it’s him, you think.

Bucky smiles gently when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

You offer a slight nod and a quiet “Hey” in return, going straight to the fridge.

“Oh, the plate in there is yours,” he says. “Top shelf.”

You look up and spot it, your eyes widening as you grab it. Did they eat monstrous portions here or something? It must weigh five pounds or something crazy.

As if reading your mind, Bucky says, “Sorry there’s so much. I think Tony went overboard.”

You blink down at the food. Tony made you a plate? You expected Pepper to do it, if anyone. Quite frankly, you weren’t expecting it at all. You figured they wouldn’t even notice your absence.

Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, giving you access to the microwave. It even looks expensive, which makes you snort. It’s touchscreen. Of-fucking-course.

“We missed you at dinner,” Bucky says. You didn’t know he liked to talk this much.

“I fell asleep,” you confess with a laugh. “Tony uh, showed me the controls for the bed.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “No more sleeping on the floor for you, then?”

You shrug.

“I sleep on the floor most nights, too,” Bucky continues, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“Normal,” you finish quietly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It feels normal.”

You turn back to the microwave, opening the door a second before it beeps. The food is warm enough now, you guess. Where the hell are the forks, though?

After opening two drawers, Bucky realizes what you’re looking for. “Here.” He opens the drawer across from you and pulls out a fork.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. “Night.”

He nods and gives a slight wave. “Night.”

+++

The next day, Pepper stops by your room with a ton of clothes, shoes, and a phone.

“Uhm, thanks…”

“I know it’s a lot,” she smiles gently. “And if you don’t like anything, just let me know. Or if I didn’t get anything that you need, let me know, too.” She pauses. “You don’t have to do it now.”

“Okay,” you sigh, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it’s hard. There’s like...fifteen bags on your bed right now. Not to mention the boxes of shoes that are stacked on the floor. And the new phone, still in the box, that you’re holding in your hand.

Pepper points to the phone. “It should have my number, Tony’s number, and the rest of the Avengers programmed in there. You’ll see one named Happy, that’s just Tony’s assistant, just in case. You don’t have to talk to everyone on there, but they do have your number as well. It’s all a precautionary thing. Oh, and the phone can be tracked.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Just a heads up. In case Tony goes crazy.”

You smile at that. “Thanks.” As if he hasn’t already gone crazy and driven you closer to insanity, too.

“Speaking of Tony,” she says. “He’s willing to do the paternity test whenever you are.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Is today good?”

Pepper blinks. “I don’t see why not.”

“Okay, just...I’ll put some clothes on first.” You’re still wearing what Wanda gave you.

“Yeah, of course,” she nods. “I’ll let Tony know and whenever you’re ready, you can just ask FRIDAY to take you to the lab.”

“Okay.”

Pepper leaves you be, while you get dressed, and it takes you a lot longer than you were expecting.

There are so many clothes.

After finding something somewhat comfortable (and because you’re tired of looking through the bags), you grab your phone, though it feels foreign having it in your pocket.

“FRIDAY...where is the lab?”

“If you head to the elevator, I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Following FRIDAY’s orders, you head to the elevator and step inside. The doors close and the elevator begins to move, and when it stops, the doors behind you open.

“Welcome to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

Hesitantly, you step off, and you’re met with blaring music.

“Really?” You scream, and Tony lifts his head. “AC/DC? Really?”

The volume lowers a little while Tony replies. “You know your music. I’m impressed.”

“I’m disappointed,” you say. “I prefer Pink Floyd.”

Tony smirks. ‘Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2’ begins to play. You hate that you grin, but you do.

“Much better,” you comment. “Pepper told me to come here?”

He nods. “Right, the Father Test.”

You snort. Of course he calls it that.

“We’ll have to head down to MedBay to do it. I’ll be done in just a second.” He taps something on the screen before looking back up. “Did Pepper give you your phone?”

“Yeah.” You pull the device from your pocket and wave it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded without a phone,” Tony replies. “Also, just for the foreseeable future, don’t leave the Tower without someone. Preferably without me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t thought about leaving and going anywhere until now. “Why?”

“Well, for one, you have an arrest warrant,” he reminds you. “They won’t question it if I’m with you. Which is why it needs to be me — Steve is also fine. But, let’s say, if you left with Bucky, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab both of you.”

“Wasn’t he pardoned or something?”

“Doesn’t mean no one holds a grudge against him.”

You nod. “Right.” Then, you reel back. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”

He shrugs. “I believe you. Even though you won’t tell me who stabbed you.” He taps something else, then drags the screen, and a hologram appears right in front of him.

You roll your eyes. “Because I don’t know who they were. I told you.”

“And I still think you’re lying,” he retorts.

You glare at him through the hologram.

A few more minutes pass where all that fills the silence is Pink Floyd. You’re not complaining, but even Tony’s breathing is grating to your ears.

Once he’s finally finished with whatever the hell he was doing, he heads to the elevator, and you silently follow him.

+++

This time when you enter MedBay, it’s empty, aside from the on-site doctor, Dr. Cho.

“Here for the Father Test,” Tony quips, smirking when Dr. Cho rolls her eyes at him.

You like Dr. Cho already.

“Alright,” she says, putting a pause on what she was doing. “It’s just a simple cheek swab and a little blood.”

“Blood?” You ask. You hate having your blood drawn. Not because of the needle, but because of the idea of your blood being drawn out of your body and used for things you’re unaware of.

It’s creepy.

“Just a small amount,” Dr. Cho assures you with a soft smile. “It acts as a double-check for the paternity test. The cheek swab can give us a general yes or no, but blood is definitive.”

You agree, you just hate it.

First is the cheek swab and Dr. Cho lets you do it, probably sensing your anxiety. She refuses to let Tony do his on his own, but that probably has something to do with how much of a child he is.

Tony gets his blood drawn first, and it is too short for your liking, because once he’s done, Dr. Cho preps you.

Your head is turned the other way while she wipes your skin. Tony moves into your line of vision, and you’re ready to tell him to fuck off before he teases you, but he doesn’t.

He just talks to you.

“Barnes told me you fell asleep yesterday.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah. That’s why I missed dinner. He said you made a plate for me?”

“I did,” Tony nods. “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

“I could tell,” you snort. “There was enough food on the plate to feed four of me.”

He chuckles. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah, I did,” you say. “It was good.”

“Good. How’s the bed?”

“Really good,” you say. “Thanks for showing me the controls and stuff.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “Nat asked me earlier if you’d like to train with her and Wanda.”

“Train?”

“Yeah, train, workout, whatever you want to call it. Barnes and Rogers usually run if that’s more your speed, Wilson, too, when he’s here.”

“Who’s Wilson?”

“Sam,” Tony fills in. “Falcon.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s in...Louisiana right now, but he should be back here in a few days, so you’ll meet him.” He pauses. “But...stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s...flirty.”

You nearly wheeze. “Are you joking?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to say that about Barnes, too. I don’t care if you talk to him. I think it’s good for him — and you. But don’t…” He waves his hands in an ambiguous manner.

“Tony, the absolute last thing on my mind right now is a boyfriend, but even if it was, why would you have any say in it?” You counter.

“Because I know them, and I don’t want them anywhere near you,” he says, like that’s the end of it. “All done, Dr. Cho?”

“All done,” she confirms, and that’s when you feel her pressing a Band-Aid over your skin.

Your head whips around. You didn’t even feel the needle go in or out. What the fuck?

You look back at Tony with a small smile. “Well played.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “Though, I wasn’t kidding.”

You roll your eyes. “Not even Nat or Wanda?”

He looks surprised, but still shakes his head. “Still no.”

“Darn. My plans have been foiled.”

This time when he looks at you, he smiles.

As the two of you are walking to the elevator, he says, “Want to help me in the lab? I’ll let you control the music — just this once.”

You almost say yes, but you’re not really in the mood. “No, thanks though. I really should go through all the clothes Pepper brought me.”

“Ah, right,” he nods. “She told me she went shopping.”

“Yeah…” You exhale. “She went.”

You step onto the elevator after him, and he presses the floors for you and the lab.

“You know, Wanda might help you sort through the clothes if you ask. She might wear whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll ask.”

“She’s training right now, though.”

You nod. “Okay. It can wait, I guess.”

Tony rocks on his heels. “I could really use an extra set of hands…”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

He grins. “You still want to control the music?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you play AC/DC the whole time.”

[emo-and-confused]

Headcannons based on @cb28 ‘s “ceo of many hotels tommy and hotel receptionist tubbo” au art (includes dysfunctional sleepy bois) (awesamdad)

-techno, wilbur, and tommy are phil’s kids

-(the three kids are adopted, techno was adopted when he was five, wilbur was adopted when he was four, and tommy was adopted when he was seven)

-techno is older than wilbur by two years and wilbur is older than tommy by eight years

-phil is this rich businessman. techno is some powerful leader. wilbur is a famous songwriter.

-then tommy owns a hotel

-he's still like 16/17 but he owns and manages it

-techno is the oldest therefore favorite and heir to whatever money and property phil owns

-tommy is least favorite. phil ignored him.

-then one day phil just gave him money and said "stop being a disappointment" so he started his hotel at 15

tommy: i’m going to build a hotel in rage

-then best friend tubbo who works there and is nice to tommy

phil: oh, theseus, my son. come, i was just telling my companions about your ho- who is that?

tommy: this is tubbo.

tubbo: hello :)

-wilbur being the normal brother and treating him like a normal person and taking him and tubbo to hang out and be kids

wilbur: tommy, let’s go get ice cream

tommy: wilbur, ive got things to do, paper work and, and shippments and-

wilbur: tommy.

tommy:

wilbur: let’s go. bring tubbo.

-tommy feels like he has to prove something to phil

-he also feels like he might be able to earn attention from him. that if he works hard enough phil will be proud of him

-wilbur’s music is what makes phil pay attention to him, but when he was a kid phil said his music was never going to be a stable source of income and actively encouraged other future job choices. this only made wilbur more focused on his music

-both tommy and wilbur feel the need to prove themselves

-tommy meets sam when starting up his hotel, and immediately gets attached

-sam is basically his guide, even after building the hotel. sam saw the child and went “yeah he needs parental guidance” and continued to stay in contact with tommy

-tommy is the one who gives sam the creeper mask. because sam is always working on construction and stuff and he's always inhaling debris and tommy likes minecraft so he gives it to him. sam adores it and wears it all the time.

-tommy totally calls him sam nook

sam: hey tommy! just building your hotel. i do need some more things for construction though... could you ship them over to me?

tommy: y'know this reminds me of a game my brother made me play over the holidays...

sam: ... uh,,,, what?

tommy: animal crossing! that's it. you're totally tom nook.

sam: alright, tommy.

-[over emails]

]Mr. Danger Careful Innit,

Could you supply more building materials?

Sincerely, Sam Nook

]Mr. Samuel Nook,

sure.

Sincerely, Tommy

-sam gets a very official hand written contract (the same one as the lore)

-he gets it and just goes with it (there’s a more real contract but tommy values his handwritten one more)

-sam signing it and tommy cheering and immediately going to text phil

sam: and... there you go! signed. :)

tommy: really??? ... YES!!! LETS GO!!! (calls phil and tells him)

-then tommy hanging up and smiling, then looking back over to sam.

tommmy: (clears his throat) um. my apologies. that was very unprofessional. thank you very much, sam.

-tubbo is the receptionist for the main hotel in the chain, (the one tommy is constantly at) but he basically becomes sort of a manager

-tommy sends him off to do multiple jobs throughout the day, and tubbo does them with only little complaint

tubbo: you know i’m not room service right?

tommy: i don’t remember asking

tubbo, already holding the room order: this isn’t my job tho-

tommy: and yet here you are, doing the job

-tommy pays him more than everyone else though, but tubbo doesn’t know that because tommy won’t let him see the usual staff paycheck

-tubbo is half a year older but his parents are constantly away on buisness trips so he is often home alone and has to take care of himself

-tommy is not good with showing his affection, the only one in his family to do so was wilbur. phil just kind of threw money at him on holidays and ignored him the rest of the time, and while techno was a lot more attentive to him, he wasn’t the best at affection either

-when tommy started making money with the hotel, (how very successful hotel chain), to show tubbo he cared he just started offering to buy him things

tommy, upon finding out tubbo likes bees: you know i could buy you a bee sanctuary if you’d like?

tubbo: tommy no-

-tubbo teaches him that money isn’t the only form of showing you care. it’s a long process

tommy: so you’re saying i shouldn’t buy sam a private engineering lab for his birthday?

tubbo: i know for a fact sam wouldn’t know how to accept such a gift and that he’d rather you close the hotel for a day and take him to play laser tag

tommy: ...okay but what if i do that and buy him a private engineering lab?

tubbo:

-the dream team are bell hoppers.

-tommy gets hate for being that young and successful

-the dream team are like “stfu i'm proud to be working for a very successful 16 yo how dare you" and go off on every rich person who says something about tommy’s age

they're still streamers. they just don't tell tommy. (tommy totally knows tho, he’s a 16 year old kid who plays minecraft and animal crossing, ofc he knows they’re video game streamers)

dream: hey tommy-

tommy: yes? is there a reason you're barging into my office?

dream: .. is that... animal crossing music? are you playing on a switch?

tommy: no!! i'm signing very important and legal documents!!! if you have nothing to say, get out!!

dream, to sapnap and george: he’s totally playing animal crossing.

-tommy makes them greet people at the doors and carry peoples bags purely because they’re famous. they don’t know this though

-they don't think tommy knows. tommy and tubbo think it’s hilarious. tommy hints it all the time that he knows but they just think he's being a kid

-quackity is on sam’s building/contracting team

-even after the hotel is built, q comes in to "check up" on the building with sam. and they "make sure nothing is going wrong with the building"

-they really just want to make sure tommy is okay under so much pressure

-wilbur totally has tubbo’s schedule and knows when tubbo’s on break, he can usually be found with tommy in tommy’s office

-wilbur will just barge in and be like “okay let’s go, you need a break”

-one time wilbur came in while sam and quackity were there

wilbur, barging in: kay, tommy, tubbo, let’s-

sam, mid lecture with tommy: you can’t keep doing this!

quackity, also scolding: you need to take a break, man.

tubbo, who noticed wilbur come in: wil! tell tommy he needs to go to bed and sleep! he hasn’t slept in twenty seven hours!

tommy, from his desk, with his head in his hands and leaning over paper work: i’m being ganged up on.

-wilbur instantly likes sam and quackity, because they care for his little brother (he totally has a rivalry with them though, he was there first, and tommy’s actual brother)

-the main hotel in the chain is sometimes used as an international meeting place for big companies and politicians

-more than once has phil or techno needed to stay for a few nights due to major meetings with powerful people

-it’s kind of awkward sometimes because tommy’s the hotel chain owner and since he’s based at the main hotel, he sometimes needs to greet the people going in for meetings

tommy: good afternoon, madam secretary

tommy: good afternoon, mister minister

tommy: good afternoon... *awkward cough* ...technoblade.

-or since he’s the ceo of a big name company, he sometimes has to attend big rich people galas that he hates

tommy: tubbo i literally hate these types of places, when can i leave, when am i allowed to to leave

tubbo, who is tommy’s plus one and moral support: dude i don’t know, i didn’t grow up rich

tommy, who grew up talking care of himself when wilbur wasn’t there: yeah well technically neither did i!

-and his father is a business man..

tommy, faking confidence and striding across the room: tubbo, i have no idea what i’m doing-

phil, from a table a few feet away, calling him over: theseus!

tommy, slowly turning around to see phil with a bunch of other rich people: fuckkkk-

-tommy makes sure everyone calls him tommy and not theseus

[in an interview]

interviewer: so theseus-

tommy: it's tommy.

interviewer: ... alright, tommy. would you like to address the rumors going around of your boyfriend?

tommy: huh??? oh, you mean tubbo? no, we're just best friends. and that's weird. i'm a minor.

interviewer: are you gay, though? we've never seen you date any women.

tommy: no, i do date women! all the time!!

-tommy being legally named "theseus watson" but calling himself "tommy innit"

-wilbur is legally “wilbur watson” but only ever goes by his stage name “wilbur soot”

-they both totally end up changing their names. legally.

-tommy saying i hate men because he just hates his father

-tommy getting scandals and controversies all the time but just by the upper class

-everyone else loves and adores him and knows he's literally just a 16 yo kid so that kind of stuff is a joke and he can say that without getting in trouble

-tommy will be in his office and tubbo will be at the front desk and sometimes tommy will just yell “TUBBOOOOO HELP MEEEEE” if his laptop crashes because Tubbo Tech

tommy: [during a meeting] oh, tubbo's clocked in for work.... TUBBOOO!

tommy: he's gonna come in here. surely. he'll go "hellœ?" surely. he'll walk in here...

tubbo: [walks in the room] hellœ?

-phil still has no idea who tubbo is

wilbur: yeah, i’m going to go check on tommy and tubbo

phil: ..the receptionist?

wilbur: ...

wilbur, internally: also your sons best friend but yeah sure, the receptionist.

-techno is lowkey fond of tubbo

-techno notices how tommy is clinging to tubbo at parties and galas all the time so he tries to get tommy to talk about him

-he likes that tubbo is there for tommy and totally resonates with the chaotic energy the two create

-sometimes when tommy can’t get tubbo in to the parties/galas, and techno is there, tommy will hang around him and steal his things

-like taking his wallet so techno will have to go back to the hotel afterwards and visit tommy

-he does it for attention. 

-tommy lives at the hotel. it’s not technically legal cause he wasn’t emancipated from his family and he’s only 16 but they’re rich so people don’t really say anything

-technically he still has a room at phil’s place, but he stays in a room at the hotel. when designing the place, he made sure to map out an area for his living space

-tubbo takes naps in his room

tubbo: i'm gonna go take a nap in the break room

quackity: there is no break room??

tubbo: yea there is. on the top floor. with the giant door.

quackity:... isn't that tommy's room???

-tubbo sometimes stays the night with tommy, when his parents have been on a business trip for over two weeks. he still goes to in-person school so he usually only stays on weekends during the school year

-tommy does online school, and forces himself to get his schoolwork for the week done over the weekend so he can focus on the hotel and other responsibilities

-he fakes having the “lmao i'm better and have more money also you don't play minecraft" mentality towards other kids and claims that’s why he does online

-it’s actually because he doesn’t have time to balance everything and he was bullied in the past so he switched to online school as soon as he started his hotel

-sometimes tubbo helps him with his classes tommy is overworked. like, in his off time. he has the passwords to tommy's computer so he just goes on it and does some of his school work

-tommy ranting to tubbo about how he hates his dad and how he said phil was gonna visit him the next day

-phil arriving and asking tubbo (because he's the receptionist) where tommy is. tubbo saying he doesn't know and that he left. even though tommy is literally in his room

-phil tries. he just doesn’t know how to parent. techno was 17 and wilbur was 15 when he adopted tommy, and he just got busy enough and forgot how to take care of a child

-tommy knows if he talks to phil, it’ll be awkward and phil will just try and buy him off (not intentionally, it’s just how business men be working, yknow)

-tommy just wants to prove himself, to both himself and phil. and hes using his hotel to do that

———————

fanart that was posted with @cb28 ‘s work

(i got permission to post this)

[heralds-of-tomorrow]

more sad venty jayce drabbles because he is my vessel for these now. featuring second person pov as a way to portray dissociation, unreliable narrator jayce, [TW] non-graphic suicidal thoughts and ideation, and sad sad times. i dont know when this takes place, some time near the end of the act two timeskip. 1.2k words

--

Your name is Jayce Talis and you are falling out of love.

You stand outside the door to the lab you share with your partner, staring at the metal frame and wishing you were as inanimate. 

You glance down to the handle and tell yourself to open it. You squeeze your eyes shut, inhale deeply through the nose, and exhale slowly through the mouth. You force your shoulders to relax and your brows to unfurrow. You hold your cheeks in that deliberate way that looks like you’re always seconds from a smile. Today, it hurts. Days where it hurts are more frequent lately.

Half in your body and half in your mind, you open the door and step inside. Your feet carry you automatically to your partner’s work station, to see what he’s worked on all night, because you know he hasn’t left since you left him last night.

“Hey, Vik, how’s the grind?” You say, voice only slightly strained. It’s fine, you’re tired. You rest a weary hand on Viktor’s shoulder and try to ignore the way the bone curls underneath your palm. 

Viktor hums at you, offhand. Probably didn’t even hear you. Probably didn’t even notice you left last night. Looks like he didn’t even sleep, not even slumped over his desk like usual, in a way that only strains his leg and back more. When was the last time he rested, you wonder? When was the last time you had space in your mind to wonder about anything else?

You cannot stop a sigh, but you don’t need to anyway. He isn’t listening. “Yeah, I hear ya’.” You mumble, a mockery of your old exchange. 

You miss the days when he would turn to you and smile, award you with a kiss. You miss the days when he would greet you when you walked in every morning. You miss the days when he would look away from his work for longer than five minutes. You miss the days when you got to see him at night. Got to sleep in the same bed. Got to talk to him. Got to see him, really see him. 

You let your hand fall from his shoulder, wondering if he’ll say anything. You usually update him on whatever news is relevant, council or otherwise, because you know he hates the way Piltovan media delivers its information. You usually tell him how your night or morning went, letting the question of whether or not he cares (if he’s even listening) stay in the box with Schrodinger’s cat. 

You just walk away, today. 

Turn around, walk heavily back to your own lab table. On a normal morning, when you are still sure of your love, you begin thinking about meals, wanting breakfast since you’re no stranger to rushing to the lab as soon as you wake up in the mornings. You ponder Viktor’s tastes, what he might be in the mood for. Back when he still held conversation with you, you’d even ask him what he wanted. 

For years now, you’ve got the both of you breakfast in the mornings. For months now, he’s forgotten to thank you. For weeks now, he’s spared it a glance and cleared maybe half the plate. For days now, he hasn’t eaten it at all. 

You wonder if he’s run himself so ragged, because he won’t take care of himself or let you help him, that he just can’t anymore. If his stomach is so shriveled he can no longer eat. If his legs are in so much pain that he cannot get up from his lab desk any more. If he is seconds from collapsing to the ground because he has not slept in days. 

You wonder if he hates you. If the thought of eating the food you’ve made or bought disgusts him. If he’s so betrayed at the sight of you that he can’t even tell you why. If his last resort is ignoring you and hoping you go away. 

You’re very close to just going away. 

You remember, fondly these days, the night you almost threw yourself out of the ruins of your life’s work to your death. You remember, bitterly these days, the night Viktor told you his name and you fell a little bit in love with him for the first time. 

You wish you had a poetic precipice to toe now. 

You wish you were standing in front of a long drop. 

But instead, you stand at your desk, hands braced on the cold metal countertop, staring blankly at its surface. You think you may be dissociating. You’re dissociating. You’ve been dissociated all morning.

You’re seeing a city skyline. You’re seeing the street below. You wish you were seeing the street below. If you were standing on an edge right now, with how hunched over you are, you’d have fallen already. 

“Jayce, could you bring me the box of copper scraps?” 

“Yeah, coming right up!” 

He’s so flat. So monotone, all grays and deep desaturated blues. The sound of his voice sends your heart into giddy overdrive, the sound of your name on his lips, the softness of his tone. It’s probably because of the exhaustion. 

The feelings in your chest remind you of when you first fell in love, overjoyed and flustered, pinks and yellows, but hollow and laced thoroughly with desperation and devastation. It’s probably because of the exhaustion.

You find the box of scraps slower than you should, and you have an excuse ready on your lips for when he asks, or shoots you one of those looks. You hold your shoulders high when you set it down gingerly next to his workstation, and the excuse dies in your mouth when he doesn’t even look at you. It tastes like decay. 

You walk back over to your desk. You take a seat. 

You’re getting tired of waiting him out.

He won’t let you help him, he says he can take care of himself. You believe him. He can take care of himself, but he doesn’t. He won’t. His back gets worse, his legs get worse, his lungs get worse. He feels worse, he hurts worse. He ignores you more. He has no time for you in his day. You’re selfish, wanting something from him when the world has already taken so much, but you have been unable to convince yourself not to feel this way. 

Your ribs ache. It feels like your heart wants to explode, like it needs to scream and sob and yell, but you were never taught how to do that, so it presses against your ribcage and gives you an eternal ache. 

You miss when he would press back into your hands. You miss when you would meet eyes and his would get just a little bit brighter. You miss when he loved you, and you knew it.

You miss when he would let you love him. 

You miss when you were able to love him.

Your hands find tools, eventually, and they get to work. Viktor never notices how long it takes you to begin, you’re sure of this. He hasn’t noticed you in a while.

[five-rivers]

Corruption

A continuation of Flowers and Moon.

.

.

.

"You- You planted them in the portal?" Danny squeaked. The only one of the flowers his parents were experimenting with that could bloom in the portal were...

Graveflowers. Oh no.

He cast a wild look down at his hands. Sure enough, they glowed with a soft, white radiance. A sort of whine made its way out of the back of his throat. "I- I can explain," he said, backing away.

Maddie looked stricken. Jack looked- Danny twitched his head to track his father as he moved across the room to stand by Maddie. Every part of him vibrated under tension, ready to react to any threat. Were they going to attack him? Reject him? He should have been more cautious, he should have gotten rid of the graveflower seeds when he first saw them, he should have made Jazz come down instead, he-

The lab shook again. Jack and Maddie whirled to face the portal, and, for a split second, Danny contemplated running.

"It's destabilizing the portal," said Maddie.

That sounded bad.

"It shouldn't have grown this fast!" said Jack.

Oh, that sounded worse.

They both turned to look at Danny. He cringed, holding his hands protectively in front of his chest.

"D-Danny," said Maddie, her voice breaking on his name. "I think- I think this is happening because of your accident." Her voice grew steadier as she continued. "Between that, the ectoplasm, and the portal, it must-" she broke off. "According to my research, you should be able to control it."

After living with his parents for his entire life, Danny knew how to spot when they were being less than truthful. Maddie's voice was higher pitched than it normally was. He couldn't tell what she was trying to hide, though.

Maybe he was just paranoid.

"If they aren't stopped soon, they'll destabilize the portal," said Jack. "They portal will explode."

"It'll what?"

Forgive him for being on edge, but his parents had (possibly) just found out that he was a ghost, and they were talking about explosions.

"Explode," repeated Jack.

"But you should be able to control them, Dan-ny," she stumbled over his name again. "Just- tell them to go back. To shrink."

Ghost plants were weird, and ghostly abilities numerous, but Danny didn't think it would be that easy. Frostbite had mentioned something about 'communing' with the plant, but he had sort of tuned out after deciding it wasn't a threat because no way would his parents try to plant something inside the portal. Except they had.

His thoughts swirled, chasing each other pointlessly. Finally, it latched onto the danger. The danger to himself and his family.

"Go back," said Danny at the plant, trying to sound authoritative. The vines kept creeping outward, digging into the seams between the wall panels. Danny bit his lip and then grabbed the cutting on the lab table. He held it out, feeling it, the ectoenergy in it tickling his palms. "Go back," he said, more firmly. "Let go. Get back." He took a step forward, and the ground rumbled again. "This is my place. Go back."

The vines and their hanging flowers trembled and, miraculously, began to recede, pulling back through the portal's rippling surface. Danny stepped forward, following, and watched as the huge plant wrapped around itself until it was just a shrub, lying on the torn and warped surface of the portal floor.

Danny walked to it carefully, avoiding tripping hazards. He had no desire to die here again. He picked up the plant and carried it out of the portal.

His mother had sunk to the ground. Jack was half bent over next to her. She struggled to her feet as soon as she saw Danny. She hugged him, stiffly.

"Thank goodness," she said. One of her hands found its way to Danny's wrist. "I'm so glad. This was just... a bad stroke of luck, sweetie. Just a bad stroke of luck that your accident simulated the conditions for that to bloom, that's all." She patted him on the shoulders and took the graveflower. "Well, disaster averted, so why don't you, um, order some takeout for us, okay?"

"Sure," said Danny. He glanced at Jack who looked deep in thought. "I can do that." He brushed bits of bark off of himself. If his parents were going to be in denial about the whole 'dead' thing, who was he to stop them?

He escaped as quickly as possible.

.

"Maddie," said Jack, "are you sure that's a smart thing to do? If he's- Maddie, it's a ghost, just a corrupted copy, and we have- we have no idea how far that corruption goes."

"It- He hasn't done anything yet," said Maddie, barely holding back tears.

"That we know of," said Jack, his voice was broken, too, "and now... if it didn't know before... I just don't think letting it keep playing this game is a good idea."

"I don't think he knows."

"Maddie..."

"I felt a pulse," said Maddie. "When I held his wrist, I felt a pulse. A ghost shouldn't be able to do that. A ghost should be colder. Jack, I don't think he's dead. I think- I was lying, so he wouldn't know, but what if it was the truth? What if that's what's really happening?"

"That would be really unlikely," said Jack. "But we've seen more unlikely?" His voice tilted up at the end, as if asking a question. "We'll... we'll have to monitor carefully. Keep track, see if we can confirm biological functions. Make sure- Make sure Danny doesn't hurt anyone." He frowned deeply. "It might not be what you think, though."

"I know, I know," said Maddie. "I know. But- Even if he is a ghost. Maybe- Maybe what Jazz has been saying holds water. Maybe we've been looking at things wrong. Maybe he isn't corrupt, even if he is a ghost. He might not be able to learn new things, but he could be- he could still be Danny." Maddie was aware that she was rambling.

Usually Jack was the emotional one. He was shaking, too.

"That would- God, I hope you're right, Mads."

.

They watched him.

They watched him eat. They watched him sleep. They took samples whenever they could. They caught him trying to sneak out at night several times, and each time they did, he spent the day moody and anxious.

The samples didn't seem to indicate that anything was amiss... Except, of course, that Danny was hideously ectocontaminated, to the point where it shouldn't be compatible with good health. Otherwise, they looked human. His hair and fingernails grew. His body dealt with food in a normal way. He slept as a human would, deeply and with dreams.

Maddie would have liked to take that to mean that everything was normal, that the only problem was a little ectocontamination, contamination that he had adapted to, but they caught glimpses of things beyond mere ectocontamination, now that they were paying attention. His eyes flashed green when he was angry. Small cuts and scrapes faded from his skin rapidly, sometimes in a matter of minutes. Some days he would have freckles, other days his skin would be perfectly porcelain white.

It only got worse when he thought he was alone, when he didn't know they were watching through hidden cameras. Sometimes he would do things. Ghostly things. They saw him stick his arm through a wall at one point. Another time, they saw his whole body flick invisible. Once, they caught him drift down through the ceiling, asleep, on camera.

Worse, it appeared that he was aware of what he was doing.

If he was aware that he was a ghost, that meant that he was purposefully keeping it from them. He wasn't just going through his day on autopilot.

But a ghost couldn't mimic life so perfectly, and they were certain that he wasn't possessed. They had tested him in every way they knew how, and he wasn't possessed.

Just as surely, he wasn't human. He couldn't be. So what was he?

Maddie didn't know, and it was killing her.

"We need some way of watching him while he's at school," said Maddie, drumming her fingernails on the table. "While he's not in the house. Maybe then we'll be able to- to classify his behavior." They hadn't even decided if his... ghostly characteristics had pushed his personality into malicious territory.

"A modified boo-merang, maybe?" said Jack. "Tell it to maintain a certain distance from the target, instead of hitting it, and add a camera? The mark one already keys onto Danny."

Maddie nodded and looked out across the lab, not really seeing it. They had pushed aside everything else to work on this. The only part of the plants project they were keeping up was the graveflower bush, which they had planted in a five-gallon bucket in the corner. For some reason, neither she nor Jack wanted to get rid of it.

As if detecting Maddie's thoughts, the plant trembled. The flowers began to unfurl.

"Mom? Dad? Are you down here?" her son's voice echoed down from the top of the stairs. "Is it okay if I come down?"

Jack tipped his notes over the side of the table and Maddie hastened to hide her own half of the research. "Sure, Danno!" called Jack. "Come right on down!"

Danny drifted silently down the stairs. He looked more nervous than he had since he had seen the graveflower that first time.

"Mom, Dad," he said, his fingers tying themselves into knots. "I have something to tell you. I-" He glanced at the graveflower and winced. "It's about my accident. The one with the portal. I've noticed you watching me, and I think- I need to tell you how it changed me."

.

.

.

Do you guys think this is a good place to end this one, or should I do one more?

[skullrock]

the bath

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve goes through some anniversary-related trauma. Reader helps him through it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of PTSD

===

You sigh heavily as you open the door to your apartment, dropping your bag at your feet and shrugging your coat off. It was too cold for October, and you shivered as you kicked your shoes off. You make your way into the living room to find your boyfriend huddled up on the couch. He’s wearing an oversized grey hoodie and sweats, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days - because he hadn’t.

You approach carefully, afraid to wake him if he’s finally slept, but he stirs.

“Steve?”

He makes a weak noise in response, cuddling into himself more. You frown and sit in front of his reclined body, running your hand over his clothed shoulder. His face is pale, under eyes dark and sunken. His perfect hair flopped lazily over his forehead, flat on the top, as he hadn’t washed it in days. He didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t have the energy to do much at all the past week, his trauma overtaking his body. All he could do was think.

“You feelin’ any better?” you ask softly, though you know the answer.

He shakes his head. “‘m tired.”

“I know,” you coo. “Have you tried the sleep aids?”

Steve shakes his head once more, jaw setting. He didn’t want to take them because of the nightmares - that’s why he couldn’t sleep. All he could see was Barb, and her parents, and his pool, and Dustin’s torn up cat, and Demogorgons, monsters in lab suits, doctors with drugs. He swears he can feel the punches, taste the blood in his mouth. His body genuinely feels like it hurts - like the bruises on his ribs have formed again, sprouting blue and purple clouds across the skin of his torso. He feels dizzy, just as he did after Billy beat him, and after the artificial high from the Russians had worn off. His bones creak when he stands, his head pounds. He feels weak and sick and disgusting, hopeless, anxious, worn. When you’re gone, he cries; when you’re here, he’s silent. He keeps all the lights on in the house all hours of the day and apologizes profusely for it; he just doesn’t want anything sneaking up on him.

You understand.

“What can I do to help?”

A single shake of the head. “Nothin’.”

You frown and lean down, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

“I’m gross.” He says it as a statement.

“No,” you say simply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re cute.”

He smiles, but only slightly. “Wish I had the energy to stay in the shower longer than five minutes.”

You perk up suddenly, back straightening. “I have the perfect idea.” You jump up, leaning down to kiss the top of his forehead. “I’ll be back.”

He reaches for you, pulling you down. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be back so fast, you won’t even know I’m gone,” you promise, reaching for his pinkie with yours. “Half an hour, honest.”

Steve stiffens slightly. “Be safe.”

“You know I will.”

You run to the store, literally run, grabbing what you need. A couple bath bombs, some bath salts. A lavender scented lotion. Steve has hordes of high-end masks, so you skip on those, and run to get the ingredients for his favorite food and dessert. He usually likes to cook and bake, but you can manage. Probably. He was a damn good cook - you had nothing on him. But it’s the thought that counts.

You return with multiple bags, kicking the door shut with your feet. Steve’s brows quirk up as he hears you come in. “That was fast.”

“You know me,” you smile, rushing to put the food away before walking back to him. “I’ve got an idea.”

“I figured,” he says. He has the hood over his head so you can’t see his eyes or mouth, but you can hear the joke in his voice.

“What if I give you a bath?”

Steve stills, and then peaks through the hood. He stares at you for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?”

“I want to,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. You press a kiss to his scarred knuckles. “Wanna take care of you.”

He pauses for a while longer before nodding gingerly. You help him up, first to sit and then to stand. He stumbles slightly and curses, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment. You stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He reminds you so much of the boy he was, right now. His back hunches from the pain in his ribs. His shoulders slag from the lack of confidence. You can almost see the cuts and bruises on him, and it makes your stomach twist. Steve had pushed everything down quite well, all things considered - but when anniversaries come up, he reverts back into the scared and alone boy he was. And it kills you, because he’s the last person who deserves it.

You lead him to the bathroom with your materials and sit him on the toilet. You help him get his hoodie and undershirt off first, leaving him in his sweats. His eyes purposefully avoid the mirror, and it breaks your heart even more. You grab a washcloth and scrub his face with some water - he had, at least, been keeping up with washing himself. Then you grab one of his masks - a rose colored one, more expensive than your entire outfit - and begin to smooth it onto his face. He relaxes at the touch and smell, shoulders dropping, the crease in his forehead soothing.

“What’re you trying to say?” he quips. “Do I look that bad?”

“Christ, no,” you say. “As gorgeous as ever, Stevie. This is just… self care.”

He smiles slightly and you continue, washing the residue from your fingers when you’re done. You place two under eye patches onto him and he sighs, the smile growing.

“That feels so good,” he murmurs.

You can’t kiss his face, so you kiss the underside of his jaw, and his tension eases further. His hands flutter to your hips as you place another kiss onto the freckles that line his neck.

“‘m not trying to get freaky,” you whisper.

“Just want you close,” he replies.

You press one last kiss to his neck before pulling away and stepping to the bathtub. You run the water til it’s warm, and plug it. You sprinkle a few handfuls of bath salts into the water, and light a candle for him. You help hold Steve up as he steps out of his bottoms, and then help him step into the tub. A happy groan slips from his lips as he slides down, sinking into the water.

“Feel good?”

He hums happily and nods. He forces his eyes to flutter shut, knowing you’re at least here with him. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“You should,” you say. “You really should.”

Steve stays quiet, because he knows you’re right.

The salts in the bath slowly ease the tension and aches from his muscles, and the scent of the candle combined with the salts makes him feel a little more alive. You sit and watch his body relax, your own relaxing with it.

After a while, you grab the washcloth again, wetting it with warm water and heading over to remove his mask. You peel the under eye masks off and gently wipe the mask from his skin, revealing more radiant and plump skin underneath. “How do you feel?”

He hums once more. “Prettier.”

You giggle and push his hair back from his face with your hand, leaning in to give him a kiss. Then you grab a nail file and begin to file his nails, manicuring them as he usually does. You work on the hand closest to you, and then the other. Steve watches you the entire time, his eyes soft as you bite the inside of your cheek to concentrate on smoothing his nails down.

Steve knows, deep down, that he is worthy of love. You tell him every single day; Robin, Dustin, and the others reinforce it. Hell, even Mike Wheeler, Steve’s sworn enemy, has been there for him. He knows he’s better off than he ever was, even before the Upside Down consumed all remnants of a normal life. But it still feels bizarre, somewhere in the pit of his chest, to have people care about him. To have people look at him the way you look at him. And he never thought, in a million years, someone would file his nails, apply a face mask to him, and wash his hair with no judgement. But here you were, and here he was, and it was liberating and scary and so, so good.

You finish with his nails and he examines them, smiling softly before mumbling, “Eh, they’re okay.”

“Keep it up, and I won’t make you chicken alfredo,” you respond, and Steve slides down the bath in surprise.

“You - what the hell? It’s so expensive to make that -”

“You’re worth it.”

“No -”

“Yes,” you say, and your expression shuts Steve up. You reach up to twirl your finger through a lock of hair. “You ready?”

He nods, pushing himself up. You grab a large plastic cup and fill it with water. You put your free hand under Steve’s chin to tilt his head back before gently pouring the water over his head. He sighs at the feeling, happy once again, the feeling of warmth on his head relieving. You do this a few more times before grabbing his shampoo, a special kind, one he insists on using - which, you don’t mind, it smells like him. Sometimes you even sneak some to use, because you want the lingering smell of Steve on your hair for the day.

You begin to lather his hair, and his mouth drops. He leans back, his shoulders hitting the edge of the tub, and you giggle as you follow him. Little moans escape his lips - nothing quite sexual, just blissful. The week washes off with the shampoo, leaving him feeling clean and more awake, more alive. It also makes him feel vulnerable. His hair is his favorite feature, and not just anyone can touch it. But he feels safe with you, feels safe for you to see it greasy and flat, clean and sky high. He lets his guard down for the first time in a week, and almost feels ‘normal’ again.

You rinse the suds out and replace the shampoo with conditioner, applying it lightly, careful not to make it too greasy again. Steve smiles, because you’re doing it correctly and he didn’t even have to tell you. After a moment, you rinse it out with clean water. He reaches up and runs his hand through it, happy that it isn’t so heavy anymore.

“Better?”

“Much,” he says quietly.

You stand and get a fresh washcloth and get onto your knees again. The tile of the bathroom hurts, but you’d do it for him. You grab his body wash and he sort of gasps, brows creasing.

“You don’t gotta - I - it was just my hair -”

“Let me,” you say gently, and he relaxes.

You lather the cloth and begin to wash him; slowly, in circles, over the expanse of his chest and shoulders, down his arms and into his hands. As you reach each part, you whisper praises - “your freckles are so beautiful”; “you’ve got the nicest arms I’ve ever seen”; “your hands are always so soft.” Steve fights back tears while you do it, sets his jaw tight so they don’t spill over, his tongue desperately pushing at the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t expecting this. Not that he doesn’t like it, he just wasn’t expecting the love that pours from you, even as you move over his ribs and legs and back.

You rinse him off with the cup again, running your hands over his skin, smooth and supple. Steve looks younger, like years have been washed away from him, and it makes you smile.

You help him get out, being sure that he doesn’t slip, as the water drains. You wrap a towel around him snugly and sit him on the toilet. You kneel in front of him and use another towel to dry his hair for him. He melts into your touch, leaning so far off of the seat that he almost falls. You push him back gently, smiling.

“Feels good,” he mumbles, smiling wider than he has in a while.

“I know how much you like your hair being played with.”

He nudges your foot with his. “You said you weren’t trying to get freaky.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay.”

“Just stating the facts.”

“Alright.” He smiles and leans in, catching your lips in his for the briefest moment. “If you say so.”

You pull back, frowning. “Hey,” you say softly, cupping his cheek. “Just rest, okay? You need to.”

He looks down. “I know.”

“I know it’s hard,” you whisper. “But I will be right beside you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“That’s not entirely it,” he whispers. “What if they… get you?”

You’d thought about it, of course. After Starcourt, you were a mess, keeping the lights on in your own house, calling Steve at three in the morning - he was always awake. You weren’t immune to your own weeks of worry and anxiety-induced nausea. But you put on a brave face for Steve.

“They won’t,” you whisper back. “It’s over.”

“That’s what we always say,” he mumbles, looking away from you.

You cup his cheek and bring him back to looking at you. “It’s true this time. We’re safe.”

“But what if we aren’t? What can I do? How can I protect everyone?”

“You can’t,” you stress. “And that’s not a bad thing. Everyone is more than capable of taking care of themselves. Especially the kids.”

Steve sighs. “They could probably kill Satan with just a slingshot, huh?”

“They pretty much already have.” You smile sadly. “So have you. Three times over. That’s a lot of practice for fighting interdimensional beings, don’t you think?”

He shrugs and softly adds, “I gave them Dustin’s address, remember?”

You pause, not quite sure what to say. “Dustin’s not mad at you.”

“I know,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper. ���But what if they….”

He can’t even finish the thought. His eyes prick with tears and he squeezes his eyes shut.

You wrap him up into your arms, hugging him as tightly as you can. You feel him shake beneath you, and he finally lets out a sob. He hadn’t cried around you much before - you knew he did cry, you just never quite saw it. It makes your stomach drop, but all you can do is hold him, let him bury his face in the crook of your neck and cry.

“‘m sorry,” Steve hiccups.

You pull back. “For what?”

He looks like he has a hard time articulating. “For… for crying. For being like this.”

“Like the man I love?”

“Stop,” he hisses. His eyes soften immediately afterwards, welling with tears again. “Christ, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -”

“I know,” you whisper. You wrap your fingers through his and squeeze. “I know, Steve. Can I get you dressed?”

He nods numbly and you lead him to your shared bedroom, grabbing him a clean pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He pulls them on gingerly, and you pull him to bed after, tucking him in.

“Stay,” he whispers, voice cracking and eyes pleading.

You slide under the covers with him, and he holds you closely, tightly, almost cutting off your breathing. He mumbles apologies into your hair, and you reach to his side to lightly pinch a sensitive spot.

“Hey.” You look up at him. “You better stop being sorry. I mean it.”

“But -”

“Genuinely nothing you do or say is going to make me get up and leave. Nothing. Not a thing. Because I know who you are, and I know who you’ve been. I know you don’t mean to snap. I know you’re scared. And that’s not grounds for apologies.”

He frowns. “I just don’t want to push you away.”

“I know it’s hard right now.” You reach up and push his hair away from his face again. “But I will be patient with you because I love you and you deserve it. You deserve the world.” He opens his mouth to protest again, but you press a finger to his lips. “No. I am going to go make you good food and dessert, and then I’m going to hold you all night. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says behind your finger.

You remove your finger and kiss him softly. “Take a nap, okay? I’m up, I’m here. I’ll protect you tonight.”

He squeezes you. “Promise?”

“Swear,” you reply. “Now let me go make you decent food, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats quietly.

You don’t move for a moment. Finally you whisper, “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you,” he whispers. “My everything.”

“No, you.”

Steve smiles and buries his face in your hair again. “No, you.”

===

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[polaroid15]

Where you invest your love, you invest your life

Summary:  Turns out, even the most broken things can be mended. Or, following tragedy, Tony and Peter learn how to be a family.

Read on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391286

----

Tony receives the call at 11:15 on a Wednesday.

It’s from Peter. A silly picture of the kid pops up on Tony’s screen and just like clockwork it pulls him away from the project in his hands. It’s unusual for Peter to call this late and a slight ripple of worry plants a seed in the pit of his stomach. Trying to ignore it, he answers quickly.

“Hey underoos. Homework troubles?”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. So long, that Tony is up from his seat and reaching for his suit before his brain fully processes what he’s doing. His mind races as it sorts through the millions of possible precarious situations the Parker boy has landed himself in this time. Kidnapping? Bleeding out? Concussion?

“Pete?”

Usually when Peter calls, the kid talks his ear off, youthful enthusiasm getting the best of him even in his stickiest situations. Literally.

Tonight is different.

“T-tony.”

A sudden chill enters Tony’s veins and he freezes where he stands. “Hey, kiddo. Is something wrong?”

A strange sound, half laugh half sob, travels through the phone and sticks a knife into Tony’s heart. The noise breaks off into short, laboured breaths. “C-can, can you help me?”

“Yes. Yes I’m coming right now,” Tony assures as the suit closes around him. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. But I’ll be the judge of that. Just stay on the line, spider-kid.”

He’s in the air for eleven minutes. After a while Peter doesn’t respond no matter how many questions Tony asks, but true to his promise, he doesn’t hang up the phone.

He finds Peter sitting on the end of a crane 260 feet up in the air.

The height is dizzying, but Peter looks unfazed. He’s still as death, feet dangling loosely above millions of shining lights. His head is bowed. Tony can’t see his face.

“Peter?” Tony flies in front of the kid. He can see Peter in his entirety now, and for a reason Tony can’t explain, tears spring up and sting at his eyes. If his suit didn’t have more common sense then he did, he would have dropped right out of the sky.

Peter is covered in blood. It’s caked on his hands, travelling halfway up his forearms and staining some stupid pun on his tshirt. It’s under his nails and smeared on his face.

He’s not in his suit.

“Kid-” Tony gapes breathlessly as Peter stares up at him blankly. His young face is red and blotchy, and from the city lights stretched far down below Tony can see his cheeks are streaked with tears. “You said you weren’t hurt!”

At this, Peter’s bottom lip trembles violently and he bites it until it bleeds. There’s something clenched so tightly in Peter’s bloodstained hand that his knuckles are white.

“Pete, you’re scaring me. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Perhaps despite himself, a sharp sob escapes Peter’s mouth. He hunches over himself and Tony catches him at his shoulders. “Tell me where you’re hurt.”

“It’s not my blood.”

Peter’s voice is empty and cold. Tony lifts open his faceplate and stares deeply into Peter’s eyes, but somewhere there’s a disconnect. Slowly, Peter uncurls his fingers from the object he’s been so desperately holding and Tony breaks their eye contact to look.

Amongst the red, a flash of gold and translucent glass. A pair of glasses. They belong to May.

All the air leaves Tony’s chest in one fatal blow. The noise from the city and the cold from their height disappears in an instant. All he can see is Peter’s face, something deep and foreign filling Tony’s chest like a flash flood.

“Oh. Peter-”

Tony isn’t sure who initiates it, but in the next second they’re hugging fiercely. Peter grips him so tightly that if he weren’t wearing his armour he’d be broken. Peter is shaking against him, and only after a second can he decipher through the sudden static in his ears that Peter is sobbing.

He’s not sure how long they stay there. An eternity, maybe. It doesn’t matter.

They’re family now.

---

The first few days are really hard.

Peter lays in bed but he doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He stares sightlessly and cries. He never lets go of May’s glasses.

After the funeral, it gets better. Peter leaves his room and sits at the table and smiles, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes. He watches movies with Tony but he doesn’t laugh at the jokes. He walks like a zombie and bumps into things and shakes like a leaf but always affirms he’s okay.

Around four in the morning each night, Peter wakes up screaming.

It becomes a twisted ritual. Tony sets his alarm for 3:55. He stares up at the dark ceiling and prays it doesn’t happen, but it always does. He races to Peter’s room and holds him tightly to prevent the boy from hurting himself and coaches him again and again how to breathe. Tony wipes away tears and talks until his voice is raw.

Three full days go by and Peter doesn’t wake up screaming. Tony thinks it’s getting better, that the cycle might be broken. Then he finds Peter slumped against a cabinet in the kitchen and finds out he hasn’t slept at all in the last 72 hours, reduced to nothing short of delirious, shaky, and panicked. They agree to a light sedative and Peter regains the color in his face twelve hours later.

Eventually, Peter agrees to talk to some professionals. It helps, but Tony still sets his alarm. Each night he stares up at his dark ceiling, hears nothing, and falls back asleep.

One night Peter drops a glass in the kitchen and bursts into tears. Tony helps him clean up the mess. Peter doesn’t talk for the rest of the night. The next morning, he asks if Tony wants him to leave. Tony says that he wants nothing more than for Peter to stay.

He does.

It’s a long road ahead of them, but they’re in it together.

---

It’s been two months and seventeen days.

Tony stands at the stove, stifling a yawn as he pokes at the eggs on the pan in front of him with a lazy half interest. His eyelids drop.

“Tony?”

Jumping, Tony jerks back from the pan and yells when he sees his eggs in smoke. He slides the pan away from the heat and wafts his hand over the wreckage, swearing like a sailor.

There’s a soft laugh, and Tony counts it as a win. Peter is looking over at him incredulously with his backpack slung haphazardly on the edge of his shoulder. “Nice eggs.”

For a minute, Tony just blinks at the statement. “Excuse me?”

“I said nice eggs,” Peter repeats, slowing down his words dramatically, still smiling.

“Hey, cut the sass kiddo. These were for you.”

Peter shakes his head, backing away from the charred remains. “Uh, spiders don’t eat eggs Mr. Stark. Strictly off limits.”

Tony throws down the spatula in defeat. “You had eggs yesterday!”

Still smirking, Peter shakes his head and continues his backpedal towards the door. “Gonna be late for school. Better get going-”

“Nope. No. You’re not skipping breakfast, kid.” Tony looks around the kitchen aimlessly before closing his hand around a peanut butter protein bar and throwing it at Peter’s still retreating form. The boy catches it easily, and stares at it with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

Peter opens his mouth, closes it, and then simply nods in appreciation. There’s an odd expression on the kid’s face that he can’t exactly pinpoint. Before Tony can psychoanalyze too much farther, Peter tucks the bar into the mesh pocket of his backpack and leaves with a warm thanks. Tony watches him go.

He throws away the eggs.

---

Later that night Tony wakes up in the lab to FRIDAY’S soft alert. There’s a paper sticking to his cheek and he rips it off hastily and rises on unsteady legs, heading up towards Peter’s room. He finds the kid sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes unfocused and blood in his hair.

For a minute, Tony just stands in the doorway. Peter is quiet. There’s an odd tension in the room, built up from weeks of Peter coming home hurt. He’s reckless now. It shows in his scars.

“Hey T’ny.” Peter attempts a smile but it stretches the deep cut in his lip and it bleeds. Tony walks over and it feels like his feet are trapped in cement. The mattress bends as he sits beside the young hero.

“What happened?”

Peter wipes the blood off his chin. “Nothing. The usual.”

“Stop with the bullshit. You never got beat up this badly before-” Tony breaks off in a choke. He doesn’t look Peter in the eyes.

“Before what?” Peter’s voice is sharp, daring Tony to say what he already knows. “I’m fine. Occupational hazard and all that.”

Something snaps. Tony looks up at Peter and when their eyes connect, Peter flinches. “Screw that. You and I both know damn well you’re getting roughed up like this on purpose. It stops now. Do you understand?”

Fire races in Peter’s eyes and he crosses his arms across his chest like a goddamn five year old. “No. Look, I’ll be fine in the morning! It’s not my fault you wait for me to come home every night like my d-” Peter breaks off, the word dying on his tongue as Tony feels his stomach plummet. Not waiting for Tony’s reaction, Peter pushes himself unsteadily from the bed to limp towards the bathroom. “I’m getting in the shower. Stop worrying about me.”

The door closes and the lingering worry in Tony’s chest sits heavy. He hears Peter crying through the running water. He sits and sits and waits.

---

The meeting had been long and exceptionally boring. Now, Tony is rewarded with an annoying ache in the base of his skull and a sharp pain behind his eyes. He walks into the kitchen and sees Happy and Peter sitting across from each other at the table playing checkers. Happy is winning. By a lot.

Tony opens the fridge then closes it. He looks swiftly at the clock and frowns. “Hey it’s only 1:00. What are you doing home from school?”

Peter flinches and hangs his head low as if to hide behind Happy. The glass of orange juice in his hand shifts. “Would you believe me if I said it was an early weekend?”

“No. It’s Tuesday.”

Peter sighs. He moves a checker but Happy doesn’t reciprocate, looking at Tony with wide eyes. Something’s up.

“Look,” Peter continues in exasperation. “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t feeling that good and they made me come home okay?”

Tony studies the boy, taking in his thinning frame and the dark shadows under his eyes. Call it his new paternal instincts, but it just doesn’t sit right. “Why didn’t they call me? I’m your emergency contact.”

“You were in a meeting. I told them to call Happy.”

“It doesn’t matter Peter. You know I would’ve come-”

“I had it handled boss,” Happy interjects, raising his eyebrows significantly. There’s still something they’re not telling him. Something dark flickers in the pit of his stomach and the pain in his head increases until he has to dig his nails into the skin on his palm to distract himself.

“Well, what’s wrong? Do you need Cho?”

“N-no,” Peter stutters. He swirls his juice and doesn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Just was a little nauseous.”

“He fainted in biology.”

Peter jerks at Happy’s words, spilling his juice on the checkerboard. He looks up at Tony timidly and if Tony didn’t have such a bad goddamn headache already, he would’ve been yelling.

“What? Why?”

“Happy!” The betrayal in Peter’s voice is evident. Tony sees the boy’s chest rising and falling rapidly as he pushes himself to his feet.

Of course, the kid’s Parker pride prohibits him from speaking. Happy does it for him. “Didn’t eat enough. Blood sugar dropped and so did he.”

Tony’s expression must extend past anger because Peter's deep breaths are audible now. He stumbles away from the table and races out of the room on shaking legs, leaving their unfinished game behind.

Tony and Happy stand in an uncomfortable silence, letting him go. After a beat, Happy breaks it. “He just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

A flash of anger rips through his chest like an arrow, but it fades just as fast. “Jesus. Never.” At Happy’s questioning look, he adds “I’m just so goddamn worried about him.”

Happy hums in agreement, looking somber. May’s death had been hard on him, too. On all of them. “He’s been through a lot. Give him time.”

“I just don’t know how to help him Hap.”

Happy shuffles over to him and places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You are.”

---

A couple more weeks pass. Peter fills out again. He smiles more. He doesn’t miss school and he aces all his tests. Tony thinks they’re approaching a new normal.

As usual, he’s wrong.

It’s late and Tony walks past the kid’s door, noticing a light shining out through the cracks between the frames. Curious more than anything, he stops and knocks softly. When there’s no answer, he pushes it open and steps inside.

Peter is slumped over his desk and snoring softly. His right hand is resting against the dark wood and holding a vibrant red marker, as if he’d fallen asleep writing. Tony inches forward with bare feet, trying to justify his snooping on his journey across the room. It’s unsuccessful, and when his eyes reach what Peter’s been working on his breath catches in his chest and stays there.

Dozens of papers and news articles stretch out under the kid’s sleeping form. All the headlines are the same, tunneling back to May’s murder. Words like tragic, orphan, and suspect jump out in the sea of swirling black and grey. The group that had jumped Peter and May that night were never found. No leads had come up since. By the looks of it, Peter has been turning over every stone.

His heart aches. He lets it be.

Before he leaves he grabs a blanket off Peter’s bed and wraps it over the boy’s shoulders. He shifts in his sleep, but his eyes stay closed.

Tony tosses and turns the rest of the night.

---

Another week comes and goes. Tony doesn’t bring up the news articles. He should.

Peter brings Ned over for a movie. Tony is nearby and hears them as they laugh. When the movie ends, they talk in hushed tones and then Tony can hear it when they cry, too. Ned stays the night and eats Tony’s burnt eggs with a smile the next morning. The two boys share a complicated handshake as Ned leaves, and Peter spends the rest of the day in his room.

Hours pass. Happy helps him make spaghetti for dinner. They scoop it into three heaping bowls.

“FRI, tell Peter dinner’s ready.”

“Mr. Parker is not in the tower.”

Tony freezes in the middle of pulling out cutlery. He notices Happy studying him out of the corner of his eye.

“Well where is he?”

There’s a short pause. “He is currently at Queen’s cemetery.”

Tony drops the cutlery back in the drawer and flinches at the sound it makes. His throat tightens. “Oh. Is- is he okay?”

A longer pause. “Mr. Parker is experiencing acute signs of distress. He also has multiple contusions, two broken ribs, and a stab wound in his lower abdomen.”

Happy chokes and Tony’s vision tilts. “What? FRIDAY what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me.”

The AI’s mechanical voice rings out with innocence. “Mr. Parker asked me not to. Though painful, none of his injuries are life threatening.”

“Asked you to-” Tony breathes in deeply through his nose, holds it tight in his chest, and releases it slowly. Within three minutes he’s in a suit and Happy follows him on the ground. The journey is a blur, the stars above covered in dark clouds. When Tony touches the ground he falls out of the suit into the chill and stands still.

Peter is sitting in the dirt. He has a hand pressed into his side and another curled around the grass. In front of him lie four tombstones, each one sharing his name.

Heart breaking further with each step, Tony walks until he stands beside the boy. If he notices Tony, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and Tony sits down cross legged beside him. For a long time neither of them speaks. Tony stares at the headstones until the words are burned into his eyelids.

Peter shakes and it makes him cry out. Tony can see his hands, how they’re stained in red just like the night May had died. Except this time, the blood is his own. Upon closer inspection Tony can see tears on Peter’s face. He wonders how long he’s been crying.

Being cautious, Tony shifts closer to the boy’s side and pulls him into a half hug, helping Peter apply pressure to the sluggishly bleeding wound in the process. Peter blinks at the gesture, stiffening at first, then loses his resolve and melts against his mentor.

“I found them,” Peter reveals, voice light and airy.

Tony tries not to move. He leans his cheek into Peter’s hair. “Found who?”

“The guys who killed May. They call themselves the Vipers. I tracked them down but when it came down to it I froze. I just couldn’t-” Peter pauses to catch his breath. “They stabbed me just like they stabbed her. It was so hard to move and it felt like I was drowning. They- they got away.”

Tony feels his bottom lip quiver dangerously and he swallows down the tightness in his throat. When he speaks, his words are fractured like broken glass. “You should’ve told me, kiddo. I would’ve helped you.”

Peter sighs as if it had been the answer he had been expecting. He straightens up and only barely catches himself when he loses his balance and lists to the side. Through half lidded eyes, he studies each grave and another tear drips off his chin.

“I just can’t believe they’re all gone,” he whispers, voice haggard. “I’m- I’m the only one left. God. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to figure it out. Did- did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Tony says immediately, tightening his grip on the boy. He tries to keep his voice steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong Peter, I promise you. Okay?”

“What if something bad happens again? If it’s you or Happy or Pepper or Ned. I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“Hey,” Tony says softly. He sacrifices the pressure of his hands on Peter’s wound to turn his face towards him, leaving two red fingerprints on his jaw. “Nothing bad’s going to happen, Pete. I promise. We’re all okay.”

“Ben used- used to tell me that with great power comes g-great responsibility. What if I’m just not good enough?”

“You are good enough, you hear me? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this goddamn world. Sometimes bad things just happen. It’s what we do with the aftermath that matters. You hear me?”

Peter’s eyes well with tears. Before he can respond, gravel crunches behind them and twin beams of light fall onto them, casting their shadows across the cemetery. Happy practically leaps out of the car, eyes wide and spiked with concern. Together, he and Tony help Peter to his feet.

Once he’s vertical the last bit of color in his face drains away and his eyes roll up in his head. Tony swears and Happy yells. They catch him easily and fit him snugly into the backseat, head on Tony’s lap.

The young hero drifts back to consciousness by the time they get back to the Tower, but he can barely walk. They manage to make their way up to medbay and Peter checks out again when they give him stitches. Thirty minutes after Tony finishes knotting the string, Peter blinks awake and tells him he’s okay, though it doesn’t convince either of them. Together they walk to Peter’s room and he collapses into bed and is asleep again within seconds. Tony drags his feet to his own and falls against the covers, rubbing tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but a sliver of light makes him open his eyes. Fighting through his confusion, Tony squints against the pale glow in his doorway and sees Peter standing hesitantly in between the hall and his room, gripping at his banadaged abdomen tightly.

“Peter?” Tony props himself on his elbows. “Is your side hurting?”

For a moment, Tony thinks the boy will turn and leave, but he shakes his head slowly and stays. He’s shifting his weight between his feet like he’s nervous, and won’t look Tony in the eyes.

“Nightmare?”

This time, Peter doesn’t nod or shake his head. Instead, he shrugs.

Tony shifts over and pats the space beside him. “C’mere kid.”

Expression shifting into something Tony can’t read, Peter shuffles into the room and crawls in beside Tony. Even in the dark Tony can see the tension drain away from Peter’s body and it makes his chest warm.

Tony closes his eyes. “Goodnight kiddo.”

He freezes as he feels Peter’s body press against his own. The boy is curled up against his side. “G’night Tony.”

When the kid’s breathing evens out, Tony relaxes too. He drops his hand into Peter’s hair and smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. In this moment of silence, Tony feels a sudden rush of clarity. A spark rushes through his whole body so suddenly that he can feel electricity in his toes. Tears spring into his eyes. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner.

They’re family, after all.

He’s going to ask Peter if he would like to be adopted.

---

It all goes south on a Tuesday. Peter has just come home from school and Tony is scribbling down equations in his phone for a new spidey-suit prototype. In the background, the news is on, but it’s distant static.

“Hey underoos. How was school?”

“It was fine.” Peter slings off his backpack and walks to the fridge. His eyes brighten when it opens. “Woah! Did Happy make punch?”

Distracted, Tony pauses his equation and looks up. “Yeah. Lots of sugar. Not that you need it.”

“Awesome.” Peter busies himself in pouring himself a glass as Tony watches. Tonight’s the night. After dinner, Tony is going to pop the big question. Pepper is even flying in from Chicago to be there with him.

“-r. Stark?”

Tony snaps out of his daze. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted a glass?”

Slightly embarrassed, Tony crosses his leg and looks away. “No thanks webs. All for you.”

Peter’s response gets cut short as the segment on tv switches over to breaking news. A small woman with dark hair sits solemnly behind a desk, a video of police lights and gunshots going off behind her. “We have just received news that the malicious group known as the Vipers has infiltrated Union Bank in Midtown. There are no reported casualties, but thirteen hostages have been taken-”

Tony jumps at the sound of shattered glass. Peter’s eyes are glued to the screen, hands shaking and socks becoming stained with punch. After a moment he recovers. He doesn’t acknowledge the mess.

“Holy crap.”

Before Tony can stop him, Peter is sprinting for his room. Tony swears colorfully and follows, making a stop in his own room along the way. He pulls open a dusty drawer in his closet and takes what’s inside, heart beating impossibly fast.

When he gets to Peter’s room, he’s breathless. The kid is already in his suit, mask halfway up to his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter stares incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“You are not going after them!”

The order falls on deaf ears and Peter tries to step past him. Feeling increasingly numb, Tony blocks the door.

“Tony! I need to do this!”

“No way! Last time you tried you got stabbed! They’ll kill you.”

“THEY. KILLED. MAY!” Peter’s voice is loud and raw. Both of them have tears in their eyes. Peter is breathing heavily, face flushed red with emotion. Tony doesn’t budge.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Tony MOVE!”

“I can’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

Tony takes a deep breath. “Me neither.”

Before Peter can react, Tony pulls a set of handcuffs out of his jacket and clasps one of the ends around Peter’s wrist. Using his shock against him, Tony drags Peter along by the other cuff and secures it tightly around the metal of his bed frame. The click makes them both flinch.

“Wha- Tony?” Peter jerks on the metal, eyes widening when it doesn’t give. “Vibranium?”

Slowly, Tony backs himself towards the door. The apology is on his lips, but it stays there. “Don’t pull on it. It’ll hurt you.”

Peter looks angrier than Tony has ever seen him in his life. He tries to run at Tony and cries out when the cuff does its job, snapping him back against the bed frame. He tugs harder, fire burning in his eyes. “Let me go!”

“I’ll be right back.” Tony is almost out. Peter’s face is streaked with tears.

“Don’t leave me here! TONY!”

“I- I’m sorry.”

He closes the door behind him and pretends not to hear Peter’s screams.

---

When he arrives at the scene the police part like the red sea to let him through. He pushes through the crowd and through his numb haze, hears cheering. It makes his stomach twist into knots.

He wishes he was doing this for the right reason.

Following FRIDAY’s advice, Tony blasts through the wall in the north-east corner of the building. Three Vipers are laying at his feet before the smoke clears. Bullets rip at his armor and Tony sends a blast that knocks two more off their feet. Within seconds, all the Vipers are horizontal.

“Where are the hostages FRI?”

Tony follows the AI’s directions to a back room. His entrance is coupled with gasps and some sobs of relief. One woman in particular with red hair and glasses holds Tony’s attention for a beat too long and he feels a physical pain. Pushing it to the side, Tony helps an old man with silver hair and a bow tie to his feet and supports him through the ruin.

Paramedics meet them at the doors. Tony watches solemnly as the red haired woman races down the steps, falling into the arms of a young boy no older than ten.

“Iron Man.”

Tony turns. One of the Vipers he had blasted has staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the teller’s counter and holding a small silver pistol to the side of a blonde woman’s head. There’s dark blood on the better half of his face and when he smiles, all his teeth are stained red.

“Get out of the suit.”

Grinding his teeth together tightly, Tony doesn’t move. Hatred burns underneath his skin like fire. “Don’t be stupid, jackass. Let her go.”

“Get out of the suit,” the man’s repeats as he pushes the pistol farther into the woman's head. She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ll count to three, hm? One. Two-”

“Jesus. Fine.” Tony steps out into the bank, the sound of his feet hitting the floor casting echoes up towards the vaulted ceilings. Police begin to fill the room behind him, guns raised at the Viper. “Now let her go.”

“Only if the cops leave with her.”

Sighing deeply, Tony spares a glance behind him and the woman whimpers again. Slowly, he nods. “Okay.”

Gasping as she’s released, the woman crumples to the floor and just barely catches herself on her hands and knees. She scrabbles away towards the line of officers. Tony doesn’t watch her go.

The Viper’s gun shifts focus to Tony. It’s a straight shot through to his forehead. “I thought the Avengers didn’t handle crap like this.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m leaving. You’re coming with me. When it’s safe, I’ll make sure your death is quick.”

“How considerate.”

The man loses his smile. His eyes are cold. “Don’t play around with me Stark.” He steps forward until Tony can smell his cologne. It makes his nose burn. The Viper pushes the mouth of his gun into Tony’s forehead. The steel makes him shiver. He thinks of Peter. “Records show that I can be a little bit reckless.”

“Wait!”

Tony closes his eyes and swears, stomach dropping all the way down to his toes. The Viper whips his head at the new voice, smiling again. “Well, well. Spider-Man. Back for another round I see. Didn’t have enough the first time?”

Peter’s hands are raised in surrender. From one of his wrists hangs the cuff Tony had placed on him, the other end still snapped shut. He must’ve broken through the bedframe. “D-don’t shoot. Take me instead.”

Tony can feel the pressure on his forehead slacken, even if just a little. The Viper is intrigued. “No offense spider, but Stark here is worth a lot more than you.”

Peter takes a defiant step forward. “He’s a lot mouthier, too. I promise I’ll do everything you say. Just- just don’t shoot him. Please.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Peter swallows visibly. His eyes dart to Tony’s and for one blessed second, they connect, a thousand unspoken passing between them like an invisible channel.

An apology.

The Viper looks between them, changing tactics. “On second thought, it doesn’t matter. Take off the mask.”

“Don’t listen to him webs.”

“Take off the damn mask now, or Stark gets a bullet.”

It doesn’t take any more convincing. In the next second, Peter’s wide brown eyes appear and Tony’s knees go weak. There’s a flash of recognition on the Viper’s face. “Wait. I know you.”

“We’ve met before,” Peter says bravely. “You killed my Aunt.”

The Viper smiles. “Ah yes. Redhead, right? Too bad I let you live. You’re not treating my gift very well.”

“She meant everything to me.”

Tony’s mouth is dry. “Kid-”

Peter’s hands are shaking as he raises his arm. All the oxygen in the room seems to vanish. “Now it’s your turn.”

Time is a strange thing.

Peter fires off a web and it seems to cut through the air in slow motion. It hits the Viper in the face, throwing him off balance, and Tony feels the gun leave his head entirely. As soon as the pressure leaves, Peter is suddenly beside him, hands on his chest and pushing him hard while kicking out at the Viper simultaneously. Tony hears the shot ring out as they fall.

Then everything speeds up.

The Viper is on the floor, eyes closed. Tony expects to see a ring of blood around him, but it never comes.

He looks at Peter.

“Christ. God. No.”

Peter is laying flat on his back and grasping weakly at his side. When Tony falls to his knees beside the young hero he feels warm liquid soak through the material of his suit and tries his best through his mounting panic to hold the kid together underneath him. It’ll take hours to scrub the blood out from under his fingernails.

“P-peter.”

After months, Peter’s smile finally reaches his eyes. His lips are stained with crimson. “‘M okay.”

“We’re going to get you out of here okay?” He grabs Peter’s hand and holds onto it tightly. The handcuff dangling on his wrist is stained with crimson. The restraint he put there. The image burns into his brain and makes him sick.

“This is what happened to Ben,” Peter’s voice is barely a whisper. A tear falls out of the corner of the kid’s eye, followed by another. “But ‘m not scared.”

“Paramedics!” Tony fights against the tightness in his chest. “Peter, open your eyes.”

For once, the boy listens. “It d’sn’ hurt.”

“Kiddo-”

“‘M glad you’re ‘kay.” With fading strength, Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. It says what he can’t anymore. “You’re my last family.”

“Peter no. I can’t lose you. I refuse. Pepper’s on her way. We were going to ask to adopt you tonight Pete. Christ. You can’t-” He breaks off with a shaky breath. The puddle beneath them grows wider. “Help! Please!”

He doesn’t know if Peter hears him. He blinks slowly once, twice, then nothing. Tony refuses to believe it’s goodbye.

Finally, the doors burst open. A team reaches them and pulls Peter out of his arms. He doesn’t hear how they react to seeing Spider-Man’s face. The static is too loud in his ears for anything. As they rush him on a stretcher, Tony grabs the paramedic closest to him by the sleeve, spotting it with crimson. “Save him.”

The woman looks at him with a hard, calculating gaze. Her eyes are brown like Peter’s. “We’ll do all we can.”

Someone helps him up and supports him. When they go outside, the sun blinds him. He can feel his pulse behind his eyes. Distantly, he feels himself helped into the back of the ambulance. They’re halfway to the hospital before he realizes the ambulance is moving.

Tony doesn’t pray often.

He prays now.

---

It’s beeping that wakes him up. Always the beeping.

Another stupid machine, another hospital room. Puffy eyes and salty sleeves and a dull headache that pulses in time with the ache in his heart.

Tony doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Peter is still asleep. Apart from the beeping, the room is quiet as death. He feels the soft medbay sheets under his cheek and realizes he’d fallen asleep over Peter like the freaking leaning tower of Pisa.

His muscles strain and pop as he moves to sit up and sit back into his chair. His legs are numb and his throat is dry. He tries for a moment not to look at Peter, scared what the sight of the recovering boy will do to his heart.

Eventually, he can’t prevent it any longer.

Peter looks, for lack of a better word, dead. His face is ghostly, his entire body lax and hooked to various tubes and machines feeding him air and the drugs keeping him alive. He looks small, so incredibly small. Impossibly so. Tony feels his chest tighten like a rapidly deflating balloon, stealing away his oxygen. He thinks of what Peter had looked like slumped in front of four matching tombstones, broken in more ways than one. He thinks of the way Peter had looked at him at the bank, a look that had the very real possibility of being his last.

You’re my last family, he had said.

Family.

Tony’s more sure of it now than ever before.

“Wake up Pete,” he whispers, voice wavering.

“Wake up.”

----

Two days later, Peter does.

Tony isn’t even there when it happens. He’s in the shower, scrubbing at his hands. They’re pink and raw, though no matter how many bubbles he goes through, he still feels Peter’s blood against his fingers.

He barely hears the knock at the bathroom door.

“Tony?”

It’s Pepper. Tony looks away from his hands, snapping out of his daze. He can barely breathe through the thick steam. How long had he been in here?

“Pep?” His heart is beating fast. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a short silence and Tony grips onto the wall for support, knees weak. His mind cycles through a million possibilities. God, he should’ve never left the kid’s side-

“He’s awake Tones. Peter’s awake.”

This time, Tony does almost fall. He shoots his hand out to twist off the water. “W-what?”

“He’s awake,” Pepper repeats, her voice inflated with happiness. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony’s world spins as he stumbles out of the shower, throwing on clothes that stick to his wet skin. Pepper is waiting for him on the other side of the door, eyes widening when she sees him. “Tony, there’s still soap in your hair-”

“It’s fine,” he says immediately. “Peter-”

“He’s going to be okay,” Pepper assures. “Cho is looking him over as we speak.”

“Going to be okay?”

“Yes-”

“Oh God.” Tony pulls her forward by the back of her neck and wraps her in a tight hug. She returns it warmly.

“Go.”

Tony falls away from the embrace and races towards the door. Later, he would deny that he ran. But now, well, nothing else quite matters.

Cho is scribbling on a clipboard when Tony swings into the room, breathing hard and dripping water from his hair. She’s laughing at something and looks up when Tony appears under the doorframe. “Hello Tony.”

“H-hi.”

“Before you ask, he’s doing great. A star patient as usual. Should be up and out of here in no time.”

Tony sags slightly, eyes stinging. Cho steps aside, revealing Peter behind her. He’s slumped against his pillow, eyes half mast but open all the same. Their eyes meet and Peter smiles, the tube under his nose lifting. “H-hey.”

“Pete.”

Cho must take it as her cue to leave. She leans down to squeeze Peter’s hand before walking past Tony and out of the room, patting him kindly on the shoulder as she does so.

Peter looks better, but not good. His lips are chapped and he looks like he’d just spent the past week fighting off a particularly bad bout of the flu, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“What?” No matter how badly he wants to sprint over the kid, he feels rooted where he stands in the room’s entrance. Everything feels distant and quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again softly.

“No,” Tony rebuttals. He takes one step forward, then two. “I should be the one apologizing. I handcuffed you to your room.”

Peter chuckles. It must hurt, because he winces. “Yeah, not your best moment.”

“You could say that.”

“But,” Peter says, “it was to protect me.”

“Just like you pushing me out of the way of that bullet was to protect me,” Tony says.

Peter shifts against the pillows, eyes reddening. “I just, after May-”

Another step, one left, one right.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t lose you. I- I can’t lose you.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Tony is at the kid’s side. He sits against the edge of the mattress, raw hands clutched tightly in his lap.

“I remember something from before I passed out,” Peter says carefully. He’s staring at the wall. “Something you said.”

Pulse jumping, Tony nods. The cocktail of anxiety and relief has left him lightheaded. “We- we had this big thing planned out. But I guess I ruined the surprise.” He pauses and the entire universe seems to slow. “Pep and I want to adopt you Pete. I know it’s soon, but you know if, if you want- we’d love nothing more in the world.”

Something fills the room like electricity. Tony feels his mind short circuit as tears leak out of Peter’s eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes Pete. More than anything.”

The next moment, their hugging. Tony feels tears of his own spill over onto his face as he clutches onto the kid with all his might. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Yes.”

And just like that, Tony’s orbit completes itself. It’s something he hadn’t known he’d needed so badly until now. Peter. The kid. His kid. Their son.

“Tony?”

“Y-yeah kiddo?”

“You have bubbles in your hair.”

Tony chokes on a laugh and holds the boy tighter. “Shut up and let me enjoy the moment.”

He can’t see the kid’s face, but he knows he’s smiling.

For now, for today, they’re alright.

They’re family.

[harderbetterfasterstarker]

endless

oops my hand slipped and i wrote a very sad drabble that’s just tony missing peter, reflecting on it during the Blip, set pre-as if even now. read it on ao3 here, and if you haven’t, read as if even now (if only to get to their happy ending, i wrote an absurdly fluffy epilogue drabble for them damnit). preemptive tw that this fic reflects on a time where tony was suicidal, and thoughts and attempts are referenced. 

The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

Tony has always been, if anything, at least self-aware when it comes to his many and myriad faults. And the truth is that he is a greedy man, never satisfied with what he has, always reaching for the next thing and the next and the next, always wanting what he can’t have, even when (especially when) it’s not good for him. And he knows that this is the truth, even though Pep always just pats him on the shoulder and gives him one of her softer smiles and says that he deserves to be a little greedy, after all he’s done, after all he’s been through. He hasn’t quite figured out how to argue with that one, even though he knows in his gut that he should. At least he hasn’t figured out how to argue without revealing cards he’d rather keep hidden, even from (especially from) Pep.

Because he’d nearly died, had thought he was going to die, and was ready to die. Another of those things he hasn’t quite worked up the courage to tell Pep yet. Her favored narrative, for him and for the press, is that he held on, fought for life, fought to stay with them for her, for Morgan. Morgan—Christ. So how is he supposed to tell Pep that he’d been lying there, fighting for consciousness through the pain clawing its way across his entire right side, and in what he’d been certain were his dying moments he’d looked at the kid, really looked at him, remembered the way his hair had smelled of cheap shampoo and sweat and dirt when he’d hugged him tight, here, real, undeniably alive, and thought, Oh. Oh.

And that had been enough.

Tony scrubbed his hands across his face, harsh and hard, as if he could erase the memory of that moment, before he’d felt whatever oddball magic Strange had begun working. What he needed to erase were the memories of the five years before that—or, hell, maybe back further. As if Tony would ever—could ever—try to excise Peter from his mind. He wasn’t even sure that he could, now. The kid had gotten under his skin, into every breath he took, inside his lungs and running through his veins and pumping through his heart, in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d clutched his body as it crumbled to dust. All he’d known was that he’d felt empty in ways he hadn’t since before he’d become Iron Man, back to Earth and spending his days and nights looking for ways to fill the aching chasm that was always threatening to swallow him whole.

After Pep had gotten pregnant with Morgan, he’d once, in a drunken spat of extreme bitterness, accused her of convincing him to retire and have a kid as a replacement for Peter. She’d been so mad at him for that one that she’d just left the house and called Rhodey, told them to call her when Tony was sober again. He regretted what he said, but he noticed that she didn’t deny it.

At least, in her eyes, he’d stopped trying to kill himself by the time Morgan was born, so she could reasonably assume that maybe her plan had worked. Shamefully, not even the idea of leaving his baby girl alone in the world without a father was enough to keep him away from that particular ledge—in fact, what he hadn’t admitted to Pepper was that it made him want to run away more, because if Peter was superhuman and brilliant and good, the best of them, and Tony hadn’t been able to protect him, what could Tony hope to do for this little girl? No, it was Nat who got the credit for ending his run of attempts. Most of his attempts had been thwarted by past Tony, who had dreamed up what felt like a thousand and one protocols and alerts for just this scenario, but the last one it had been Nat to walk into his workshop at just the right (wrong) moment, in what if it had been anyone other than the Black Widow he’d have called a coincidence.

“You’ve gotta talk to someone, Tony,” she’d said once they were settled on the couch in the corner of the lab he slept on most nights.

“You don’t think I do? I’ve seen every shrink this side of the Mississippi and several on the other, I’ve gone to those stupid fucking support groups, and it’s—none of it works, Nat.” He’d been drunk—he was always at least slightly drunk, then—and it made him more open. “It’s all wrong.”

Whenever his therapists asked him to talk about what happened on Titan, he clammed up, spoke in the vaguest of terms. He told himself he was protecting Peter’s identity (even in apparent death) but he knew that wasn’t right. He’d considered that he was trying to avoid admitting just how culpable he really was, for dragging a teenager into this fight, for dragging the best mind of a new generation, the sweetest boy he’d ever known, brash and a bit impulsive but with a heart of fucking gold, and let him die on a godforsaken desert planet with a bunch of aliens, Strange, and a man who thought Footloose was a great movie—because he’d had plenty of experience avoiding admitting truths to himself, and this wasn’t his first therapy rodeo—but deep down he knew that wasn’t right either.

“Have you gone to the right ones?” Natasha had asked softly, looking at him carefully, and he had the unsettling feeling she, as always, saw more than he wanted her to see.

“I’ve been to the general ones, the ones for everyone who lost people in the Blip, to family loss, to the ones for first responders and others who felt helpless, I’ve even been to the groups for parents who lost kids.”

He had—at Pep’s insistence, he’d gone. And it was—better, than the others. The scope of his grief felt… more accepted, there. Less out of touch with the experiences of others. But it still wasn’t—enough. When they talked about the future they’d been robbed of with their children, it was a future they got to watch, moments in their lives that were gone—graduations, weddings, grandchildren. And Tony felt that, all of it, deeply—that he should’ve been there to see Pete graduate, valedictorian, go to college wherever he wanted (MIT, it would’ve been MIT), invent something that floored Tony with his brilliance—but that wasn’t quite it. More than all of that, he missed the time he should’ve spent with the kid and didn’t, missed the idea of years of weekends in the lab spilling out ahead of them, hearing him laugh and seeing him smile. He wished he’d just hugged the kid that time in the car, instead of making everything some joke.

“He was just… you know what he said to me, when I first met him and asked him why he was doing what he did? A broke fourteen year old kid, suddenly has superpowers and instead of being captain of the football team and stealing enough to set them up for life, he’s chasing down muggers in a onesie? He said, when you can do what I do, and you don’t do anything, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you. I mean, Christ, Nat. He was the best of us and I—I lost him, and I—and it feels like I can’t breathe.” He realized that his hand had gone, unbidden, to the shell of where the arc reactor had been, clutching at it desperately. Ripping his heart out would’ve maybe been less painful. Natasha had given him another penetrating look and then, whip sharp and faster than certainly his inebriated brain could keep up with, she’d grabbed him by the chin and turned him to look her in the eye.

“I actually like you, Tony, which is why I will say this. You loved Peter, you really truly did. And when you love someone, and they die, it fucking hurts and it never goes away. I like Pepper, I do, but the house in the country and hanging up the suit and the baby? Those won’t make it stop hurting. That pain lives inside you now, because so did Peter. So the only question is whether you can choose to live with it. Like I said, I like you, so I hope the answer is yes, and I think that’s the answer the kid would want for you. But if the answer is no, you call me. I’ll make it quick, and painless, and tidy, and Pep and the baby would never ever know what it really was.”

For once in life, he’d been speechless, left to stare at the spot on the couch she’d vacated as he considered her words, considered that Natasha had had a life, in Russia, before the Red Room had stolen it from her. Considered whether he’d want Pep to think he’d just… had a heart attack. Gotten old, put too much stress on himself. Considered the kid, wondered if there really was a place you went when you died, what he’d say to Peter.

He’d called Natasha once after that, at 3 in the morning a few months after Morgan was born, when he hadn’t been getting enough sleep and when the silence around the house had felt oppressive.

“Tony,” she’d said, quiet and gentle, the kind of tone she took when she was lulling the Hulk back to peace. “Is this the call we talked about?”

“No,” he’d gasped, scrabbling around the kitchen for the picture of Peter and him together, their fake internship picture. “No, I just… Thanks. Thank you.”

“You already had your heart-to-heart, Stark. Don’t think this is a regular thing,” she’d said, sounding more like herself. He’d snorted, clinging to the sense of normalcy.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Won’t put you on the list for talking about our feelings.”

“Atta boy. And Stark… you’re welcome.”

[definitelyseven]

it was always you

summary: in a twisted turn of events, you find yourself naked in the bed of your best friend, Mark Tuan

one (m) | two | three (m) | four | five (m) | six | seven (m) | eight (m) | nine | ten - final | epilogue - one (m) | epilogue - two |

You walked into the restaurant with your friend and the waiter sat you down by the window with the view. 

“Champagne?” You and your friend said at the same time. You both laughed. Ever since that night, you and Mark haven’t spoken to each other. He completely ghosted you; left you in your shared apartment alone and naked. It’s been three weeks and nothing from him.

“So are you finally going to tell me what’s up? Your friend asked. 

“What do you mean?” You knew what she meant.

“You know what I mean! You and Mark!” You shrugged and took a sip of your champagne. “Fine don’t tell me, but I know something’s up.” The server came by to take your order and to refill your glass with champagne. “Y/N...don’t look, but you won’t believe who just walked in.”

“Who?”

“Mark and Sana.” You choked on your champagne. Not only have you not seen Mark in three weeks, you also haven’t spoken to Sana. You didn’t know how to face her. You couldn’t. You and Sana have been friends since university and you were the one who got them together. 

You wanted to leave. You wanted to hide. But you couldn’t. How could you tell your friend you wanted to leave before your food even arrived? You kept quiet and chugged your glass of champagne. 

“Y/N!” You turned to look. It was Sana and Mark was close behind. 

“Hey...” You said giving her a small smile. 

“I missed you! It’s been so long!” She said giving you a hug. You hugged her back and looked at Mark. He didn’t even bother to look at you and that hurt. Whenever you and Mark had a fight it always ended quick. You both couldn’t stand being mad or not talking to each other, but this was different.

Sana grabbed your hand. “I have news to share!” She said happily; the happiest you’ve ever seen her actually. “Look!” She said showing you her left hand and the big diamond ring that was on her finger. Your heart sank. You tried to hide the sadness and the disappointment, but your heart ached. When did he propose? How could he not tell you? Was he even planning on telling you? 

“Congrats!” You said trying to hide your disappointment. 

“We’re planning on telling all our friends and family tomorrow! You should come over!” She was so happy. How could you tell her that you slept with her soon to be fiancé?

“I-I can’t.” 

“Please, please, please!” Sana begged. “You’re the reason we’re together and I want you to be there. I want you to share this moment with us!” She turned to Mark. “Mark, will you please convince her?” He finally looked at you. No expression on his face. 

“You should come.”

“I’ll try my best.”

--

Tonight’s the night. You debated the whole day whether or not you should go. Sana even called you to confirm that you’d be there. There was no hiding. 

You were standing outside her house, waiting for her to open the door. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you came! Come in!” The house was filled with people. “Make yourself at home. We’ll begin soon.” Sana said as she handed you a glass of wine. You sat down on the couch. Mark was busy talking to people and making sure everyone was either holding a drink or being served appetizers. He didn’t seem to realize you were here; not that it mattered.

“Family and friends, we’d like to make an announcement!” Sana said as she clinked the silverware against her glass. “I’m sure all of you already guessed, but Mark proposed to me three weeks ago!” Three weeks ago - it couldn’t be, could it? Did he propose right after that night or before? Your body went numb. You tried to contain your emotions by keeping your eyes closed. “Mark, baby, would you like to say something?”

“Uh...yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you everyone for coming today. It really means a lot to share this special moment with all our family and friends.”

“I’d like to thank someone. Someone very important to Mark and I.” Sana turned to look at you. “Y/N!” Everyone turned their attention to you. “Thank you! Without you we wouldn’t be together. Would you mind saying a few words?”

You weren’t expecting to make a speech. Not here where your emotions were all over the place. You couldn’t. But you did, you had too. 

“Um yeah sure.” You said standing up. “Wow I wasn’t prepared to make a speech tonight.” You said clearing your throat. “Um well. Sana and I, we met at university. She was in the grade above me and was pretty well known at our school. We took the same chemistry class and she was my lab partner. Till this day, I still don’t know why we tortured ourselves like that.” Everyone laughed. “We became good friends. She helped me a lot.” You paused and turned to the couple. He was finally looking at you. Your eyes teary as you sniffled - thank god it was normal to get emotional during these things. “Mark...Mark’s the oldest friend I have. He’s my best friend. I’m happy for you both.” Everyone clapped and Sana gave you a hug.

“Will you be one of my bridesmaids?” As if you didn’t feel guilty enough. Sana was always nice to you and you betrayed her. Now you couldn’t stop thinking about that night you and Mark spent together; the way he held you against him as you pleasured each other that night. “Please.” You gave her a small smile and nodded. As painful as this was, you knew she would be happy if you said yes. 

The party was coming to an end and it was time for you to leave. “Y/N, Mark can take you home.” You were about to object. “I don’t know what’s going between you to, but I want you guys to be okay. I’ve never seen you guys not talk to each other for this long. Did something happen?” Sana was genuinely concerned about your relationship with Mark, but she didn’t know the truth.

“No..no, we’ll be fine.” You assured her. 

“Let him take you home. It’s been three weeks. As much as I love him, he needs to go home, he needs new clothes. Plus you two need to make up soon for the wedding!” You wished she’d stop being so nice. Sana called for Mark to take you home. You were tired and didn’t want to argue anymore.

You and Mark didn’t speak to each other - not when you were riding in the elevator and not in the car ride home. You didn’t look at him during the whole ride home. Your heart stung and you knew if you looked at him, you’d break down. Your eyes were fixated on the road in front of you or the scenery to your right the whole ride home. He parked the car in the parking garage and made your way upstairs. You knew Mark well enough to know that he was dying to say something. But no words came from him. You punched the passcode to your shared home and walked in together. This was the first time he’s been home since that night. You took your heels off and made your way to your room.

“Can we talk?” He finally spoke. You both stood there awkwardly by the kitchen island; both of you claiming opposite sides of the kitchen, sipping your tea. It’s been 10 minutes and he hasn’t said anything. The tea was getting cold and you were growing more and more impatient. You drank the final sip of your tea and decided you’ve had enough. You set the cup in the kitchen sink and walked towards your room. “I’m sorry.” You stopped. The feeling of nervousness and anxiousness in your stomach didn’t go away. It was like someone had punched your stomach over and over again.

You turned to face him. “Is that all?” You asked crossing your arms in front of your chest. He slowly made his way towards you. He didn’t say anything else which made you even more angry. You scoffed and tried to leave again. This time he grabs your arm. “Don’t fucking touch me!” You said flinging his hand off your arm.

“Will you please just listen to me?!”

“Listen to what, Mark?!” You felt tears forming in your eyes. “It’s been three fucking weeks and not one word from you!”

“I-I’m sorry.” He looked just as hurt, but he had no right to be. He left you alone and naked in his bed without saying a word. “I was scared and confused.”

“Yeah? Well imagine how I fucking felt!” It was obvious all kinds of emotions were running through your body, and you were no longer trying to hide the fact that you were angry, upset and hurt. Tears rolled down your face. “I woke up and you were gone! I was scared and alone! You ran back to your girlfriend!” He reached for you, but you moved out of his reach. He can’t come back like this and expect it to be okay. It doesn’t work like that. 

“I was wrong..what we did was wrong.”

You sobbed. Did you feel guilty? Yes. Did you betray Sana? Yes. Did you ever think it was wrong? No.

It was the most magical thing you’ve experienced with anyone. You were sure he felt the same that night, but now you weren’t so sure.

“If it was so wrong, why did you fuck me over and over again? Why didn’t you stop after the first time?” The tears wouldn’t stop rolling down your face. Your vision was blurry and your head hurt. “Why did you propose to her?” You whimpered.

He reached for you again, faster than you could pull away. He pulled you in for a hug. You tried to squirm away but his grip on you tightened. He pushed you gently against the wall and kissed you, not letting go of his grip on you. It felt good to feel his lips on yours again. It brought you back to that night and how it felt to be in his arms. 

But as quickly as those memories came, the memories of him leaving you came just as fast. Using all the strength you can gather, you pushed him off you and slapped him. Tears still rolling down your face, you both stood still. The sound of yours sobs filled the room and it felt like eternity of you two just staring at each other. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He said as he made his way slowly to the door. 

Was this what you were always afraid of? Every time you and Mark wanted to get intimate you were able to stop yourself. Why couldn’t you this time? Was this the end of your relationship with Mark? He was your oldest friend - the only friend that never left your side. 

You chased after him. Just as he was about to open the door, you reached out to hug him from behind. “Don’t go...”

[fangirlovestuff]

Cycle - Steve Rogers x reader ch.5

Previously:  ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4

Summary: The morning after, you quietly left. The days after, you were constantly screwing up. Will you stop thinking about Steve, or maybe you won’t need to?

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: explicit language, brief mentions of smut

a/n- hey lovely people! and just like that, another Steve series had come to an end. I had a lot of fun writing this series, and thank you so much to everyone who gave me feedback on it, it’s super appreciated! italics are for thoughts and divider is by @whimsicalrogers​. Enjoy!<3

The next morning you surprisingly woke up before Steve did, and used this opportunity to sneak out of his apartment, going back to your place to change before you had to be at work again.

On the way home, all kinds of thoughts flooded your mind, starting with should I have left a note? And all the way to this was the biggest fucking mistake ever, why didn't I try to resist it more, now everyone's gonna say I'm a slut, and they'll be right.

But amidst that rose the memories of last night, of the feeling of Steve surrounding you, his hot breath against your skin, falling asleep in his arms. And you knew, if you had a time machine, no matter how much you're overthinking this now – you'd do it again.

The realization caused you to shake out of your reverie, breathing out a shaky breath and looking around the street to ground yourself a little.

Nothing was gonna happen, it's all gonna be okay, and even if Steve will never talk to me again, he'll still respect what we agreed on, you calmed yourself down as you entered your apartment, getting ready for another day.

Steve entered the training room, his thoughts still wandering to the events of last night. When he woke up this morning, you were already gone, but his amplified senses could still pick up on the scent of your perfume on the sheets next to him. He understood why you did it. He was old, but he still understood the social conventions of hooking up, and he knew what it meant when he agreed. But there was still a part of him that hoped to wake up and see your face. Maybe even get a chance to see you fall apart under him once more.

He shook those thoughts away. This is what you wanted, and he should respect it. this is when your paths part. For some reason, he felt sadder than he probably should've been. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness at the events of last night.

When he put his bag down he was greeted by a friendly slap on his shoulder. Smirking, he immediately turned around, catching onto the arm and tossing the "attacker" onto the floor. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "You knew it was me, man," he complained as Steve extended his hand to him and he got up.

"Always be ready," Steve shrugged and moved towards the middle of the mattress-covered floor. Sam narrowed his eyes towards Steve and followed him, standing in front of him and getting into position.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood," Sam remarked. "Any reason why?"

"You, Sam," Steve said in mock emotion, "You are my sun and stars, and getting to see you this morning is the abso—"

Sam charged at Steve, but the latter quickly dodged his punch and kicked his leg, making Sam lose his balance and fall down for the second time that morning.

Steve chuckled. "Relax, Wilson," he said, "a little sarcasm hasn't killed anyone yet, and I for one don't want that to change."

Sam's face lit up with understanding. "You finally did it you bastard! You got laid! Who was it?"

Steve couldn't keep his face from blushing. Was he really being that obvious?  "None of your business. Besides, it was a one-night thing anyway," he shrugged, trying to regain his composure.

"Hey, if you don't wanna tell me, I'm fine with that. But when Barnes gets his hands on you…" Sam grinned.

Steve groaned. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, fully knowing if Sam managed to figure it out, Bucky would too. "That's a problem for later," he shook his head. "For now, I think you need a refresher on balance," he raised his brow at Sam.

"Whatever," Sam scoffed, "fucking super soldiers," he grumbled while he got into position once more.

It's been five days since you last talked to Steve. Not that you were counting or anything. Five days of making a complete fool out of yourself were just kind of a lot.

The first day you thought you had it under control. Even though last night didn't involve as much sleep, you drank some coffee and figured it would be okay. You started daydreaming and nearly fell asleep, leaving your mixture to cool for too long, noticing it only when Kate tapped your shoulder to get your attention and having to start it all over again.

Well, the first day should be the worst and then it'll be fine right?

The second day you were thinking about whether you should text Steve or not while you were diluting a solution you were working on, but got the different concentrations confused and needed to start again, costing you more time and materials.

The third day you thought it would surely stop. After that day you needed to get a new fire extinguisher for the lab.

The fourth was Saturday, so thankfully you didn't have opportunities to embarrass yourself anymore, right?

Except you went out with your friends, got drunk and told them that you slept with this "super" cute guy and how everyone hates you now because you mess everything up. They calmed you down and comforted you at the moment, but they also got that on video and god knows you're never living that one down.

Thankfully, drunk me was still smart enough not to tell them who it was, you mused as you watched the video, your head pounding on Sunday, the fifth day since you had last spoken to Steve Rogers.

Which brings us here, Monday morning, five days after That Night.

You entered the office, setting down your bag and going over some paperwork when Kate knocked on your door.

"Hi! Come in," you greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning," she smiled back. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you. I don't want to overstep, but you've seemed a little… distracted, these last few days, and I was wondering why? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, obviously, but if it could help you…" she trailed off, a little awkwardly.

You sighed. "No, it's okay, I should probably give at least a little explanation for my actions. But you're gonna think it's stupid," you warned with a smile. She nodded at you to go on anyway.

You wondered how you should phrase it. "Well, I guess I've been trying not to date for a while, to focus on my career here, you know. But a few days ago I went on a date with this guy and it was wonderful, but I haven't talked to him and he didn't talk to me and I'm just… wondering if I should try to change that," you said. That was close enough to the truth.

Kate pondered what you said for a moment and then spoke. "The way I see it," she said, "you need closure. Just try to talk to him. If something comes out of it, great, if he doesn't answer, that's still fine. Either way you're better off knowing, because if the last few days are any indication, I'd say you feel very bad not knowing," she said with a teasing smile.

"Maybe you're right," you smiled. "Anyways, I'm really sorry for the last few days. But it won't happen today. At least I'm pretty sure it won't happen today," you added with a chuckle. "I'll join you in the lab in a few minutes," you smiled at her and she nodded and left.

Much like you, Steve also wasn't having a great time.

That first day he ended up seeing Bucky, which earned him pestering for the rest of the day, but he adamantly refused to reveal your identity even to Bucky.

"C'mon Buck," Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not telling you. That's it."

"That means it's someone I know! Oh, is it – "

"Lalalala, I can't hear anything you're saying," Steve reverted to the childish method and put his hands over his ears.

"Fine, sheesh. You gonna see her again at least?" Bucky asked.

"I don't know," Steve said with a sigh.

Steve's smugness only lasted the first day, and the rest of them were filled with increasing disappointment.

The second day Bucky managed to hit him in the face with his metal arm because he wasn't paying enough attention.

The third they had a briefing for a coming up mission, and Steve nearly fell from his chair at the sound of his phone beeping, thinking it could be you.

Saturday and Sunday were spent alone in his apartment, finishing the painting of the skyline and ignoring Sam's and Bucky's texts. When he finished the painting he was so tempted to ask Bucky for your phone number and send you a picture of it, but he figured that would be weird. Instead, he started another painting, and without even noticing he started sketching your face. Way to go Rogers, you managed to be weird anyway, he thought and threw away the sketch.

When he came to work Monday, he thought he got over the whole deal.

Sam greeted him at the training room, ready for another mission. "You alright Rogers?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, my phone was just turned off," Steve shrugged, thinking Sam was wondering why he was… how do they say it? ghosting him?

"I didn't mean this weekend," Sam said, "how did you let Barns get you that good last week?"

"I guess I was just distracted," Steve shrugged, getting in position.

"You never get distracted," Sam stated, "you are literally the most prim and proper person I know. That one time Bucky and I argued for an hour next to you, and you didn't even notice, what's up?"

"That's not true, I did notice, I just ign-"

"See, that's a lie, because if you actually got distracted by what we were doing while you worked you would've asked which time I was talking about," Sam smirked.

"Whatever," Steve rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"So, who's getting you so distracted? Was it mystery girl?"

"Um, yeah," Steve chuckled. "Look, it doesn't really matter right now, we should –"

"I knew it!" Sam laughed, "you just can't do one-night-stands, can you?"

"I-" Steve trailed off.

"Look man, it's just who you are. Go talk to her," Sam said.

"Maybe," Steve said, and then, without warning, made a blow at Sam that he managed to avoid.

"Always be prepared, right?" Sam said, a smug smile on his face.

"Right," Steve answered, smiling.

You were just packing up in your office, ready to go home. Thankfully, today had been free of awkward mistakes.

There was a knock at your door and you called them to come in, thinking it could be Kate, but in front of you was standing, causing you a serious Deja-vu, Steve. I spoke too soon didn't I?

"Hey," he said, scratching his neck.

"Hi," you whispered unintentionally. You cleared your throat and asked in a stronger voice, "Uh, can I help you?"

"Well, yeah," Steve said. "I wanted to ask… will you listen until the end of what I'm about to say?" he smiled and chuckled awkwardly.

"Sure," you frowned a little and came to stand in front of him.

"I was kind of… making a fool of myself the last few days. Not calling you was the main foolish thing but also, Bucky hit me in the face because I was thinking about calling you," he grimaced. "And… I know we agreed about no strings attached, but I can't stop thinking about you. In a non-creepy way," he quickly added with another awkward chuckle. "So, I wanted to ask if maybe you'd like to attach the strings?" he smiled. "Go on a date sometime? Obviously, I get it if you say no, but I just really wanted to ask. So, yeah," he looked away at the bookshelves surrounding you.

You gladly refrained from telling him about the times you’ve made a fool of yourself those days. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date sometime," you smiled and put your hand on his cheek, drawing his gaze towards yours. His face lit up with a smile, and then he was kissing you. It was the kind of kisses that left you breathless, the kind of kisses you felt like you could live on. Maybe even a true love's kiss.

"It's probably because you had a really good teacher. I mean, with that level of game, how could I say no?" you smiled.

"Probably," Steve agreed with a soft smile.

You couldn't contain yourself and kissed him again, cupping his face in your hands while his large hands were placed on your waist, drawing you close.

"Pay up, Barnes," Sam said smugly.

"No way! Look, what if the mystery girl is-"

Bucky trails off and smirks once he sees the two people who are walking through the lobby, where he and Sam were standing. Sam turns around and sees what he sees – You and Steve, walking hand in hand, giving each other total heart eyes. Steve raises your connected palms and kisses the back of your hand.

"Shit," Sam said under his breath.

"Pay up, birdman!" Bucky said with a shit-eating grin.

It's funny how life works. Right when you decide to stray clear of men, it brings you the sweetest one you've ever met, and you can't resist his baby blue eyes, looking at you so adoringly. Once you decide to be a little more of a player, change to get what you want, it brings you the most beautiful woman who doesn't need you to change at all.

In this case, opposites definitely attract. Together, they can achieve the most beautiful thing in the world – love.

and the curtain goes down on another Steve series. Thank you so much for reading, ily<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000

Cycle Taglist: @dee-vn @alex747 @itsangelpie-supports

if you wanna join / be removed from these taglists, comment/message me! much love <3

[humanperryfic]

Nobody Needs to Know

Lord, show me how to say no to this...

Their relationship isn't exactly OWCA approved, but Perry doesn't want to stop.

Based on Say No to This from Hamilton

AO3/FF.Net

TW’s: None

Perry yawns. The cold, grey light of dawn seeps in around the edges of the curtains, yet he hasn't slept a wink all night.

And that's only partly the fault of the man sleeping peacefully next to him.

Actually, it's entirely the fault of this man. This glorious man, the one who drew him in with his sharp wits and marvelous inventions. Who took every punch and kick, then cursed him without malicious intent. The man that he fell for, head over heels. The man he just can't say no to.

So no, he hasn't slept. Instead, he's been mulling things over and over in his mind. How he's going to explain this one to Linda- swamped with work only works for so long. How he's going to lie about his whereabouts to Monogram.

How their relationship can't continue, not like this.

If this was a normal relationship, one where he met the other in a coffee shop or at a concert, he wouldn't have any qualms about breaking it off. (Actually, if this was a normal relationship, he wouldn't need to hide.)

But this is no ordinary relationship. They're nemeses. Friends. Lovers. He has feelings that refuse to go away, feelings he can't just ignore, despite the cloud of consequences hanging over his head.

All because he couldn't fucking push Heinz away. Couldn't just take one quick, messy kiss and call it good. No, he had to fall face first into what's both the best and worst decision of his life.

Best because, well, he's in a wonderful relationship with his nemesis. One that he hates to even consider breaking off.

Worst because if he gets caught, he's fucked. And not in the good way, the way he's enjoyed with his nemesis for the past month.

No, there will be consequences. Consequences that make him truly consider squandering their relationship.

Because there are always consequences. Something like this is beyond an easily explained-away one night stand. It went beyond that as soon as Perry kissed back.

Demotion and relocation is the lightest punishment he could possibly hope for. At it's worst, he'd be earning forty years of jail time in OWCA-traz, no parole, for aiding and abetting evil. Most likely, he'll be forced to relocate, strung along, then fired a few months later over something petty.

He's watched it happen. He's seen agents slip up and disappear. Agents more careful than he.

Of course, he wouldn't have to do this if Dennis (Agent Bunny, which makes Perry glad he got a mature codename) hadn't gone rogue. The reason? He fell in love with his nemesis and realized that Evil was better.

One agent gone rogue, working with his nemesis, inspired by a relationship not unlike the one he shares with Heinz. After that, OWCA clamped down on every single agent-nemesis relationship, romantic or no.

One agent ruined his chances to ever enjoy life.

Is it bad that he considers going rogue to get away from the consequences of this? The consequences of doing something completely unexpected of him. He's a dedicated agent, shot up through the ranks as soon as he graduated from the University Without a Cool Acronym. Something like this defies all expectations, and not in a good way.

He knows what he's expected to do. As the best agent in the Tri-State Area, he's expected to do certain things. Keep a nemesis, but still be able to go on other missions and save the world. Complete every shred of paperwork on time. Never question his loyalty, not like what he's doing right now.

He's also expected to marry another agent. A female agent. Have two point five prodigy agent kids and continue the legacy his parents left him.

The higher-ups aren't even subtle about it. They keep sending him on missions with the same woman, the best agent in the DC division. Agent Kaylee the Koala. They're both highly skilled agents, third or fourth generation OWCA. Born and raised to fight evil. (And their codenames are both Australian mammals. Major Monogram would get a kick out of that.) Honestly, it wouldn't be that bad. She's a good agent, he considers her a friend. He'd be able to get through it, if he could get over Heinz.

That's how he came into the Organization, anyway. His parents had met on a mission in Greece, married not much later. Then they died days before his third birthday. He went into OWCA's foster program for the agency's orphans, shuffled around from division to division. He'd lived in more countries by his fifteenth birthday than most people got to visit in a lifetime.

Once he graduated from the High School Without a Cool Acronym, he was shuffled into the host family program. Some attempt to give him people to come home to.

And it worked. He rents the attic space above the Flynn-Fletcher home. Their family accepted him into their arms. He practically considers Phineas, Ferb, and Candace his own niblings. They even call him Uncle Perry.

Even though he can't tell them anything about his work life, they're still family.

But some part of him still aches for his own family.

It's a choice he has to make. A family he could build from scratch, with a fellow agent. A family that he could be almost true with. Or a family he came into far too late. Even though part of him considers Vanessa and Norm his own children. Norm calls him Dad, for god's sake. A family he could tell the truth to, but not about.

There's a right answer for both sides of him. The side that follows rules longs to take the easy way out, to break everything off and never look back. To say no to this. To request a transfer to DC, keep in touch with Lawrence and Linda and the kids, marry Agent Koala and have children, even if he'll never be truly happy.

The side of him that craves adventure and adrenaline, the emotional side of him says no. It says to stay here, in this bed, in this division, in this town. To throw away everything else for his emotions. To break the chains, to love his nemesis with all his heart. Like he already does, if he's being honest.

He hates to be the one to break the cycle. To be the one surely disappointing his parents. (Although it's not like they would know...He feels horrible for even thinking that.) But he's in love with his nemesis. The feelings run far too deep. It's something that keeps him from ever having a normal life.

Normal for an OWCA agent, anyway. He gave up any semblance of normal life the instant he was born.

And he gave up on having a normal agent life the instant he decided to hang back after a scheme.

They had been cleaning up an exploded -inator. It had been slow going, but they finally finished cleaning up Doofenshmirtz's lab. They took a few steps to admire their handiwork when suddenly, Doofenshmirtz had pulled him in by his tie, sloppily pressing their lips together in a rough approximation of a kiss. Perry had been shocked at first (since when did Doofenshmirtz reciprocate his feelings?), but had quickly accepted the simple truth that Heinz spelled out.

He barely had his wits about him, but he still managed to push the other man away. If OWCA saw, he'd be done for.

But his instincts and desires overwhelmed him. He just couldn't say no, couldn't find it in him to go. It would have been so easy, just sign a fast apology, jump off the balcony, and glide away.

He's never been one to take the easy way out. Never has been. He turned away from the cameras, deactivated them in a way that would look accidental.

Making deliberate eye contact with a hurt Heinz, he tossed his hat away from him, not even bothering to watch where it flew. (Damn if that isn't the perfect metaphor for everything he's done since then, huh?) He pulled Heinz down by the lapels of his lab coat and crashed them together in a hungry kiss. It barely took a moment until Heinz had reciprocated in kind. Long fingers carded through his hair, a bite stung against his bottom lip, his own hands sneaking below the hem of Heinz's sweater.

Things only escalated from there. They spent the night in a whirlwind of guilt and pleasure. There were hundreds of opportunities to leave, to push Heinz away and go, but he didn't take a single one. And Heinz would understand. He would be hurt, but he would understand.

But he didn't say no.

Laying in Heinz's bed that night, breathing hard and barely able to process what happened, he promised himself never again.

It was only supposed to be once. One time. One night.

Shame burned in his gut as he had kissed Heinz goodbye (god, he just couldn't stop) and flew home. The shame only intensified when the Major demanded to know why Heinz had kissed him.

His stomach in knots, he signed that it was a misunderstanding, lying that of course he didn't want it. It took every part of his self control to keep his hands from shaking.

He's used to lying. Lying to Linda and Lawrence and the kids about his job. Lying to Heinz about his personal life. Lying to himself, telling himself that he's going to stop. But this feels different. Like he's lighting the fuse on dynamite beneath his feet.

To a certain extent, every lie feels like it's a house of cards just waiting to tumble down. Some do, ending in relocation at best. Some get rebuilt, like the mishaps with the second dimension.

This lie feels even more precarious, like the cards are made of glass. Glass that will cut him on the way down. Glass that will shatter and never be able to be repaired, not in the same way, not ever again.

Intellectually, he knows that every lie has a time limit. He's honestly floored at how his house of cards hasn't fallen, hasn't toppled and taken everything he knows with it. Every secret escapes, even the best-kept ones.

A part of him still loves it. Loves the thrill and the excitement. Craves the nerves that still bubble in his stomach every time he and Heinz fall into bed together.

It was only supposed to be once.

But it wasn't just once. He's practically become addicted to the way Heinz kisses him, soft yet still desperate. The way they understand each other, understand the constant internal conflict over good and evil. He can't get enough of the way they slot together, physically and emotionally. Stoic and emotional. Quiet and constantly talking.

How can something supposed to be so wrong feel so right? How can he say no to this? He can't stop, and part of him never wants to.

He shouldn't feel like this, but he does.

Perry lays back down in Doofenshmirtz's bed, burying his face in the shoulder of the man himself. He wraps his arm around Heinz's thin body, and holds him tight.

It's their secret. Some day, it will escape. But right now, nobody needs to know.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

May Flowers Challenge Day 23

Prompts: “I knew I’d find you here” + “I haven’t slept in four days” requested by Anon

Pairing: Ray Palmer x Reader

Word count: 830

Warnings: None

It had felt like forever since you'd last seen Ray. He was busy working, and you hated to disturb or distract him even though he'd never say it. You didn't mind, really, his work was important, and when he got this enraptured by a project you were happy to take a step back to let him focus. But it had been nearly ten days now since you'd last seen him, five since you last heard from him, and not only did you miss him, you were worried too. Not that anything had happened to him per se, but you knew about his tendency to overwork all too well, especially on serious projects. 

And so that was how you found yourself down in one of his labs, watching him pour every scrap of his focus into his work. 

"Hey there," you said softly as to not startle him too much. You walked over to the station, taking in the numerous empty mugs, and smiled when he looked up at you as though you'd snapped him out of a trance. "I knew I'd find you here."

Despite the dark bags under his eyes, Ray's face lit up. "Hey! I didn't hear you come in."

"I can be stealthy when I want to be," you chuckled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips. You held up the bag of takeout. "I come bearing gifts."

"My favorite! Thanks."

"You're welcome." Setting the bag down in one of the few empty spots, you stepped between Ray's legs, arms coming to rest around his shoulders. "Though, it looks like you're more in need of a bed than food."

"I'm fine," Ray said through a yawn. 

Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him, "When was the last time you actually got some sleep?" 

"It really hasn't been that long…"

"Raymond Carson Palmer."

Ray avoided eye contact when he spoke. "I haven't slept in four days."

"Ray…"

"I've been busy! I need to get this done! The number of people I can help with this-" 

"You won't be able to help anyone if you work yourself into the ground."

"I know, but-" 

"No buts. You're always so concerned about other people you don't take time out to look after yourself." Running your fingers through his hair, you smiled when Ray leaned into the touch. "So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna eat this takeout while it's still fresh and hot, then we're going home, and you're going to get some sleep."

"Do I have a choice?" 

"No."

Ray smiled, "Then yes, boss."

"Good." You kissed him again, then pulled back to retrieve the cartons of food while Ray cleared a little more space. 

At his first bite, Ray groaned. "This is the best!" 

"I wouldn't quite say the best, that's reserved for you."

Ray laughed, "Now you're just flattering me." 

"Nah, it's the truth. You're the best man alive, Ray Palmer."

"Only because you make me him."

"Now who's doing the flattering?" 

"I mean it. You always inspire me to be better."

Blushing, you looked down into your carton, then back up. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The rest of the meal passed, and by the time it was done, it was clear to see how exhausted Ray was. Every other word was punctuated with a yawn, and now he was full it seemed like it was near impossible for him to stay awake. He didn't even argue or try to talk you into letting him stay. 

You drove you both back to your place, Ray already half asleep by the time you pulled to a stop and you wished you could carry him inside like he'd done for you on several occasions. 

"C'mon, sleepyhead, there's a nice comfy bed waiting for you," you coaxed, getting Ray to grudgingly clamber out of the car. 

You got him upstairs and into something comfier, smiling when he flopped onto the bed. 

"Your mattress feels great," he said on a sigh. 

"It's old," you laughed, laying next to him. 

"I'll get you a new one," he mumbled, eyes closing. "This still feels good now."

"I bet it does." Laying on your side you watched him. He really was perfect, even with a tendency to overwork, and you still found it hard to believe just how much you loved him. For all the joy and happiness he brought you, you didn't mind wrangling him to bed sometimes at all. 

"I was wrong." Ray startled you when he spoke, thinking he was asleep already. "You were too."

"About what?" 

"Earlier. The food. Me. Not the best. You are. You're the best."

"I don't know about that."

"No, you are. You're the best thing ever. 'm lucky."

"Not as lucky as I am."

You didn't get an answer, and you watched his breathing even out. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, getting a smile as a reward. 

"Nowhere near as lucky as I am, Ray Palmer."

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