#this was fun to make once I got past the wanting to punch my tablet cause it still refuses to work

[omsrandom]

@bastardroomba requested Umbreon and Espeon in Punch and Bittersweet, or as I like to call it, “Bittersweet Espeon Punches Umbreon”*

*Note: No Pokemon punching took place

[thatsgay-writes]

Day 12

PREVIOUS

The days after finding water we're pretty chill, minus finding out that Jeanette's body was gone. There was still some obvious tension between you and Toni and Toni and Martha and Shelby. You hadn't really interacted with either Toni or Shelby in the past few days either, opting to hang around Fatin. You hadn't talked to Toni because you didn't know what to say after the argument the two of you had and you had revealed your feelings for her in front of everyone. Shelby on the other head, had seemed to be the one ignoring you... Well maybe not ignoring she was just very short with you which was totally against her personality. You all had also made a schedule, seeing as you were going to be here for a while. Everyone got one chore a day and every once and a while a day off. Today happened to be your day off and you were glad, your chest pains had been happening more often and that concerned you.

It also concerned you that you didn't know when you would be rescued. The hospital, who was against the retreat but couldn't exactly do anything about it, had given you medication to help with your problem. It was enough pills for three weeks, just in case, but they had been lost like the rest of your stuff. You had checked the pilot bag that held all the medical stuff you guys had but it didn't have what you were looking for either. You've managed to hide coughing up blood by coughing into the elbow of you red shirt or spitting it out while in the woods. You had also been losing your appetite, which has been harder to hide. You'd force down some food and pretend like it was a lot so the other wouldn't worry. But today, luckily, you were starving and prepared to fully eat whatever Rachel brought for food.

---

"Let's feast!" You hear a Rachel suddenly yell as she stand on top of a little hill, carrying what looks to be a big amount of food. You stood up and attached your leg before joining everyone around the fire. You watch, mouth watering, as Dot cooks all the mussels over the fire. When they're done cooking, the mussels are laid out in a big pile in the middle. Everyone stared at the pile wondering who will go first, since they all understood how little food they had been finding the past couple days. "Eat as much as you want guys, there was enough of them to fill 3 more bags. I just ran out of room." At Rachel's words you all dive in and eat the mussels, except for Shelby. "Why aren't you eating any?" Leah asks as she looks suspiciously at Shelby. Not this again. You think as you eat your tenth mussel, what could you say you were hungry.

"I'm actually allergic to shellfish. Ate one at a birthday party and my throat swelled up like a balloon." Shelby responded as she watched everyone else eat. "That's rough." You say as you grab 3 more mussels. "Damn y/n. Is it good?" Fatin asks jokingly as she grabs another mussels for herself. You roll your eyes and let out a chuckle as you flip her off before grabbing more food. "You know what this looks like..." Toni says, grabbing everyone's attention with a smirk. You mentally facepalm because you know exactly where this is going. "A pussy!" Nora yells out causing everyone to laugh, the girl had definitely come out of her shell more the past few days. Toni nods her head before licking the mussels shell provocatively. "I bet y/n knows what that feels like!" Dot yells out causing everyone to make an "ooo" sound like kids when their peer got in trouble. You and Toni's face both heated up at Dots words and you made sure to give her a hardy punch in the shoulder.

"Can you all stop!?" Shelby suddenly yells out causing everyone to freeze and look at her questioningly. "Shelby, chill out we are just having some fun." Dot says, not really understanding what all the fuss was about. "I am chill, I just don't find that very amusing." Shelby responded, her voice getting a little harsher when she says the word that. "What do you mean by that?" Toni asks as she send you a quick look and you almost immediately understood where this was going. The look was one you or Toni would give the other when known homophobes where in the area or if the two knew you were being judge for doing pda. Was this why Shelley had been short with you the past few days? You did not like where this was going and neither did Toni. "Just... pornographic gestures. I'm from a very Christian home and no one ever does things like that."

You wanted to believe Shelby, you really did, but it explained why you always felt this weird vibe from her. "Don't lie Shelby, I always knew I felt some sort of vibe from you, it's clear now what it was. Toni and I have felt that vibe enough times to know what you really mean." You say, glaring at Shelby. "What... What are you guys trying to say?" Martha asks getting worried now. She knew what you meant when you said vibe, you and Toni had both told her about it. "She's a fucking homophobe." Toni spits out glaring at Shelby. You nod you head in agreement, putting back the mussels you had picked up before all this started. Martha's eyes go wide and she sends a Shelby a pleasing look, hoping she'll deny what Toni had just said.

"Look..." Shelby says as she lets out a big sigh. "I have no hate in my heart for y'all. It was just that I was taught that that way of life is a sin." Toni immediately jumps up and point her finger angrily at Shelby, "Why you little..." Toni was too mad to even finish her sentence. Martha had dropped her head in disappointment and let Fatin wrap and arm around her in comfort. The rest of the girls were just watching as everything unfolded. "I feel sorry—" Shelby starts to say, digging her into an even deep hole. "Fuck you." Toni interrupts her before storming off, you nod your head repeatedly in agreement, not looking at anyone as you finish putting your leg on and following after Toni.

---

"Toni. Toni. Toni!" You yell as you follow the girl. "Goddamn leg... Goddamn sand..." You mumble as you follow Toni down the beach. Luckily, she does finally stop after she deemed that she was far away enough to breathe. Toni kicks the sand angrily, as she stares out into the water. "I can't fucking believe this, no I can I just hoped..." Toni trails off as she wraps her arm around herself. You walk up to her and wrap your arms around her in a comforting hug, "I know, I know..." "We just get so much shit at home..." Toni trails off as she lets herself relax into your hug. "I know." You say again because that's all you can say. You relax for a few minutes before you get hit with a sudden nausea.

"Oh fuck." You mumble out as you unwrap from around Toni and throw up near the two of you. "Y/n?" Toni reacts in shock as she watches you kneel over as you try and spit out the taste of vomit and blood. Toni ends up turning around to throw up as well. "I didn't know you were a sympathetic puker..." You try and joke as you take deep breathes and slowly lay in the sand, feelin exhausted from throwing up. Toni wiped her mouth before turning back around, "C'mon, we can't stay here the heat wont help at all." Toni says as she pulls you to your feet, trying to ignore how she slowly started feeling worse. Toni has to practically drag your body back towards camp. "Help!" She yelled out as soon as she saw people and Fatin came running over. She took your other arm and most of the weight so Toni could relax some.

Luckily, the other girls seemed to be doing better than you and Toni. Both you and Toni were splayed out on the ground with Martha sitting near by as the other girls moved around the camp doing whatever.  "Come on, lay on your side y/n." Martha mumbles worriedly as she listens to your labored breathing. Toni was at least a little more responsive and had tried to swallow water, while you didn't even react to someone moving your body. "Fuck, she's getting worse..." Dot said as she walked up to check on the three of you. "Where the hell is Leah with that medicine!?" Fatin almost yelled as she looked between you and Toni. Right as she said that, Leah broke through the tree line and ran towards Dot. "Why are they all dirty?" Dot yells out as she roots through the bag. "Only 2? I thought we had 3, I know we had 3!" Dot pulls out two tablets of halophen. "It's obvious who needs them the most." Shelby stated as she sat a little ways away from the group unfold. Dot bites her lip and looks at Martha, "Martha, you good?" "Yeah, I'll take a Pepto."

Dot nods her head and turns towards Fatin and hands her one of the tablets, "Figure out a way for her to take it." Fatin nods her head as she looks down at you. "Toni, I'm going to need you to take this." Shelby said as she took the other halophen tab from Dot. "I'm not taking shit from you." Toni says as angrily as she can. "It'll save your life Toni. Take the damn pill." "Should Shelby really be the one doing this." Rachel questions. "Am I not allowed to help her!?" Shelby says exasperatedly. She climbed on top of Toni and held her nose closed until she opened her mouth. As soon as she did, she stuff the pill in her mouth and covered it, forcing her to swallow. Shelby got off of Toni and turned her attention to you, ignoring how the other girls were looking at her.

"Have you gotten her to take it yet?" Fatin shakes her head no, "She's barely reacting to anything. I'm surprised she's still conscious." The girls sat silent for moment contemplating what to do. They start to panic when you cough up more blood. "Here, give it to me." Dot says as she snatches the tab and a nearby rock. She starts to crush the tab up as much as possible. "Just pour some in front of her nose and breath deep." The other girls don't really question Dot's idea and just follow what she says. "C'mon y/n, just one big breath and then you'll start to feel better."

---

You were leaning heavily against Toni as you and all the girls sat around the fire. You were still exhausted from today's earlier event. Luckily, they associated you coughing up blood to throwing up to much and you didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. No one knew about what was wrong with you except for the people at the hospital and yourself. You were finally clear to sleep by Dot because she wanted to make sure the meds had actually worked and that you wouldn't fall asleep just to never wake up again. You were almost asleep when Toni suddenly stands up yelling Martha's name and running over to her. You shake yourself awake and shakily stand up to see what was happening. Your heart stopped when you noticed that Martha had fallen and made no attempts at getting back up.

"Toni you were dying!" "Who cares? I don't matter! fuck, I don't matter. I don't fucking matter."

NEXT

[mimi-cee-hq]

An Incriminating Blush - Moniwa x Reader

Summary: As you finally allow Moniwa to help you with your project, you wonder if the guy you've fallen for would ever like you back.

Pairing: Moniwa x f!reader

Genres, tropes, etc.: fluff, pining, getting together, friends to lovers, second year Moniwa

Words: 1,461

Author's Notes: I'm back to writing for an underrated character. lol. Another one of those, 'I don't know if anyone will read it but I'm going to write it anyway' lol. It's been a long time since I've written something so if you're on my taglist and aren't interested anymore, just let me know through this Google doc.

Author's note 2: This is the one-shot version of the Operation Moniwa SMAU that I dropped. This fic is pure romance though. I couldn't keep up the comedy in the SMAU. lol.

*****

Biting his lip as he held the stylus, Moniwa's hand glided over your drawing tablet, outlining the roof of the cafe.

"I told you to stop drawing," you remembered Moniwa scolding you the day before.

You sighed, watching him as he continued to draw on the digital canvas. You preferred to do the work by yourself, but Moniwa's offers were persistent because you often took on too much work. Even with your school's art festival coming up soon, you continued to refuse his help until you finally injured your wrist.

Your eyes fell on Moniwa's arm and hand as he continued to draw strokes on the awnings. Two of his knuckles were wrapped with tape from a toss gone wrong. A splinter from woodworking class made its mark on his thumb. Yet his fingers moved precisely from the abundant practice from creating technical drawings.

Looking at his furrowed brows, you admired the man you had fallen for. "You're really good at this," you commented with a gentle smile.

Still focused on the drawing, Moniwa replied with a wide grin, "I told you to let me help."

You laughed, expecting this answer. "How's the volleyball team doing?" you asked.

Moniwa sighed and slumped back on his chair as he reflected on their recent team meeting. "They made me the captain for the spring tournament," he told you. "The third years decided to retire to focus on school."

"That really suits you," you laughed.

"You haven't seen what my kouhais are like," he said. "Those first years are going to give me so much trouble."

"I'm a first year too," you said with a smirk.

After thinking for a moment, he replied, "That explains a lot."

You laughed and punched his arm in response. "So how are the other guys doing? Sasaya? Kamasaki?"

"Oh them?" he hummed. "They've been trying to set me up with someone...," he explained, words trailing.

You felt your stomach tighten, knowing exactly why. You ignored it. "That's sweet of them," you said with a smile.

"I thought so too at first. But then it got awkward, so I told them to stop," he continued. "Especially when I found out it was you..." Moniwa suddenly pressed his lips together, realizing he said too much. "Sorry! I shouldn't have told you that!" he explained in a fluster. "Now I'm just making it more awkward," he added, slapping his own forehead.

"No! No! It's okay!" you reassured him. "It's not awkward at all," you lied. You had always thought that Moniwa had only seen you as a friend, which was why you continued to hide your feelings from him. You were content enough to continue with your unexpected friendship with him. You held it close to your heart, attempting to protect it from cracking under your care.

After Moniwa left, you sat on your bed, the mattress sinking under your weight. Heaving a sigh, you wondered if you should move on. You've liked Moniwa since you had met him at the skating park a year ago, before you had entered high school. You shook your head, wishing to direct your mind elsewhere only to start scrolling through your past messages with him.

Moniwa was eager to help you when your skateboard broke. The axel was rusted and caused the front wheels to be unstable. You tried to use it anyway, only to be met with frustration. The skateboard was a gift from your eighth birthday. You had it for six years.

When Moniwa said he could salvage it, you didn't believe him, especially since he was only a year older than you. With scrap metal from projects and access to the machines at school, your next skateboard ride was smooth as if it were new again.

Lying on your bed, you shifted and faced the other way. You knew Moniwa was the kind of guy who'd help anyone. But when he started helping your classmate, Ami, with her theatre set, you couldn't help but be jealous. You knew he must have been busy constructing it, which was one of the reasons why you initially rejected his help. But he continued to insist, especially after you injured your wrist. You couldn't help but feel a little special, only to remember that this was normal for his personality.

Sighing, you thought that maybe it was enough to just be friends.

*****

It was 7 o’clock in the evening when you popped your head into the back theatre room. You saw Moniwa from the hallway after leaving your own classroom. With the school festival a week away, Moniwa was alone putting together the large pieces of the ship deck for the play.

The deck was about six feet wide. There was just barely enough room for it because one side of the room was filled with rows of costumes while the far side was filled shelves of various props. You spotted a decorative mirror, a Victorian dress, and a few jousting swords.

You gave Moniwa a large wave to get his attention. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he placed his power drill on his work table once he finished fastening the screw. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I finished up my tasks for our class’s activities. So I ran away before the class president could nag me to do more work,” you laughed as you shuffled into the room. “I only wanted to take a break and see what everyone else was working on.”

Moniwa smiled, giving a light tap on your head. “Y/n, you should go back. You’re always running away from your class prez.”

You pouted, rubbing your head to pretend you were hurt. “And I thought I left the nagging.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” he said with a smug grin.

You heard chatter and footsteps from the hallway and quickly pushed Moniwa further into the room. After taking a few steps back, Moniwa stumbled on some costumes that were on the floor and he barely caught himself when he almost tripped on them. You also slipped but Moniwa’s chest and arms prevented you from falling.

Lifting your eyes to meet his, you remembered that Moniwa looked taller when he wasn’t beside his giant teammates. But as your gaze focused on him, he quickly turned his head away from you. He didn't realize that his action did very little to hide his face. After glancing to the side to the decorative standing mirror, your eyes widened.

"Moniwa…," you said. "Are you blushing?"

"N-n-no I'm not!" he stuttered, frantically waving his arms. But it was obvious to you because he had turned his face back to you, now seeing an even clearer view of his red nose and cheeks.

When you raised an eyebrow, he promptly covered his face with his hands and threw his head back in defeat. "Sorry Y/n," said his muffled voice. "Pretend you didn't see that."

You saw him bite his lip as he turned away from you, presumably to leave the room. When you grabbed his hand, he froze. You felt his hand clam up.

"What if I don't want to pretend," you told him. Moniwa turned to you, blinking a few times, your words not making any sense to him. So you clarified. "Moniwa, I like you."

At first, he froze. He was so stiff that you thought he wouldn't move even if you were to give him a poke. But when he came to, his words rushed out of his mouth in a fluster. "What? Why would you like me? You're smart and pretty and talented and fun to be around…" He continued to ramble. "And I'm plain and boring and not very strong and–"

You quickly cut him off when you hugged his waist and relaxed onto his chest. He liked you. You couldn't believe he liked you. Moniwa just didn't understand how amazing he was. You were pretty sure Ami liked him as well. You sighed, wishing you had noticed his insecurities earlier. You've been watching him for at least a year. You felt like you should have known.

You laughed, more out of relief than amusement. He liked you back. All those memories of you anguishing over your unrequited feelings suddenly vanished and were replaced with joy. He liked you.

Moniwa flailed his arms when you fastened your hold even tighter on his waist. He quickly scanned the room, nervous that others might have seen.

"So are you going to hug me back or not?" you asked.

"I- Is that okay?"

You gave him a smirk, then a peck on the cheek. "Of course."

You once again saw that blush that you were waiting months to finally see. A blush reserved only for you.

*****

I hope you liked it. If you like my stories, here's a Google form to be added to my taglist and/ or check out my masterlist to see all of my writing.

Taglist: @celestialarchiveshq @whootwhoot @charmingchikara @megumiisee @anejuuuuoy @pastel-prynce + @iwaisa (because it's Moniwa)

[mascwhump]

Chapter 22 - Site Bravo

NSFW. EXPLICIT.

CW: dubcon touching, noncon drugging, forced pill taking, needles, minor blood, manhandling, creepy/intimate whumper, and just straight up smut tbh

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

-

A few hours passed before Charlie heard the door unlock. He tore his eyes away from the ceiling and let them drift toward the door. Basil's small frame slipped in, carrying three plastic bags.

"Basil? I was almost positive that you were dead," Charlie said as he sat up.

"N-No, I was just reassigned here," he replied, setting the bags down on the desk.

"Where is here?" Charlie asked.

"I can't say, I'm sorry. I have to go," Basil replied, quickly exiting the room.

Charlie scratched his head as he moved to inspect the bags. Inside one was a meal, another had a few essential items, and the last one had a set of clothes. Charlie ate the meal ravenously before organizing the rest of the items. Not long after, the door opened, and none other than Mallory entered the room.

"Where's my team?" Charlie demanded.

"Hello to you, too. They're just fine. In fact, they're in the rooms on either side of you," Mallory said, straightening his sleeves.

"Where are we?

"America. This is my new compound, provided to me by your lovely government. We're calling it Site Bravo," Mallory answered.

Charlie twisted back to face the desk, placing his elbows on it to rest his head. Mallory approached him and placed his hand on the back of his head, causing him to flinch.

"Don't worry, love. Things are how they should be again. Although, I will admit, it was fun seeing what it's like in your position for once."

"How did they even know where to find us?"

Mallory tapped on his collar. Charlie sighed heavily into his hands. He hadn't even considered the fact that there might be a tracker inside of it.

"I'm moving the majority of my operation here. It's a much more advanced facility, and that means our research should increase tenfold."

"And I'm assuming you plan to test your stupid fucking research on us indefinitely."

Mallory sat down on the edge of the bed.

"We're expanding our testing. Right now, we have Q-179, T-77, also known as the truth serum, and C-282, the control serum. There's two new ones in the works right now, and the next one should be finished by next week. I have some good news for you, though. They no longer expect me to eliminate you. They're happy allowing me to keep you as healthy test subjects."

"Is that still all I am to you, a test subject? What you've done to me- to us, is beyond what could possibly be needed for your tests. You're obsessed with me. I'm absolutely more to you than a fucking test subject."

"Do you really care that much about what I think of you? It sounds like you're the one obsessed with me."

Charlie put his head down. He sighed deeply against the cedar desk. Mallory was next to him again, running his fingers through Charlie's messy hair.

"Come on," he said quietly, "I've got a welcome back present for you and your friends."

Charlie's blood ran cold. He moved robotically, as if someone else was in control of his actions. He followed Mallory down the narrow hallway and out a set of doors. They entered a large empty room with high ceilings, about the size of a basketball court.

"This will eventually be an indoor shooting range, but for now, we'll use it for this," Mallory said.

Soon after, the others were filed into the room, only restrained mentally by the rifles the soldiers held. They stood in a line against one wall. Charlie brushed his hand against Ethan's to acknowledge him. Another solider entered the room, holding a plate of cookies. The team exchanged confused glances as they were each passed a cookie.

"A welcome back gift," Mallory said. He took a cookie himself, and that lowered their suspicions.

"This is pretty good," Adrian said, mouth full.

"I only hire competent cooks," Mallory said. He noticed Crow wasn't eating the cookie.

"Don't worry, they aren't poisoned or anything. See?" He said, taking another bite of his own.

Crow finally ate his, and once everyone had finished, someone they hadn't seen before entered the room, rolling a cart with drawers. He wore a black bandana on the bottom half of his face. He nodded to Mallory before quickly exiting the room.

"So, now that I have you all here, I have to ask- how did you find Charlie and I?" He asked.

"The metadata from the video you sent," Adrian spoke. His eyes went wide, and he began looking around frantically.

"Ah, I see," Mallory sighed, "Didn't think about that."

"Adrian, what the fuck?" Crow hissed at him in a hushed tone.

"I didn't say that!" Adrian yelled.

Charlie froze once he realized what was happening.

"You put truth serum in the cookies," he said.

"No, just one of them," Mallory replied.

"You bastard," Crow spat.

"Shut it," Mallory hissed.

Crow opened his mouth to speak again, but the way the color drained from his face indicated that he couldn't. Charlie and Mallory realized it at the same time.

"Oh, excellent. You got the control serum biscuit," Mallory said.

"No," Adrian growled. Crow moved toward Mallory, but stopped in his tracks when ordered to.

Mallory clicked his tongue as he smirked. His eyes darkened, and Charlie clenched his jaw.

"First off, Crow, not a word unless directed. You and you, restrain Rex and Adrian," Mallory ordered to his soldiers.

"It's Deke," he spat. One of the men forced his arms behind his back and secured them with handcuffs before kicking his legs. Deke snarled as he dropped to his knees, his dog tags clinking together. Adrian put up a fight, managing to land a punch to one of them before another stepped in and got him on the ground and in cuffs.

Mallory opened one of the drawers on the cart and pulled out a bottle of pills will no label.

"Crow, make Charlie take this," he ordered. Crow walked over to him, and Mallory dropped one of the beige tablets in his hand.

"What is it?" Charlie questioned.

"Don't know. Can't be good if it was in this drawer," Mallory replied.

Crow approached him slowly. Charlie's back was already pressed against the wall.

"I'm not taking it," Charlie said, speaking to Mallory, but looking at Crow.

"Too bad. Do anything to get it down his throat, Crow," Mallory said.

Crow tapped on his jaw, and Charlie shook his head. He gritted his teeth. Crow eyes were filled with sorrow as he gripped Charlie's jaw in an attempt to force it open. He turned his head away and tried to move, but Crow pinned him with one hand on his chest.

"Stop this! This is insane!" Deke yelled. He was met with a blow to his shoulder with the butt of a rifle.

"Maybe he'll open his mouth if you pinch his nose," Mallory suggested.

Charlie struggled and squeezed his eyes shut right as Crow gripped his nose, cutting off his air. He could only hold his breath for thirty seconds before his mouth dropped open. He gasped for air as Crow shoved the pill to the back of his mouth, then covered it with his hand. Charlie had no choice but to swallow.

"Well done," Mallory spoke, "It was just a vitamin, by the way."

"You motherfucker!" Charlie yelled, pushing past Crow.

"Grab him," Mallory said quickly. Crow took Charlie's arms and held them behind his back.

Adrian began struggling against the soldiers' hold.

"Get him out of here," Mallory hissed. They picked Adrian up and dragged him out of the room as he began to yell numerous threats.

"Such a waste. Oh, well. I didn't really have anything for him to confess to, anyway."

Charlie was attempting to rip his arms out of Crow's grasp. Mallory watched in amusement.

"This is ridiculous," Ethan spoke.

"Oh, really? Come here," Mallory responded.

"Don't fucking touch him," Charlie spat.

Ethan approached him slowly, and Charlie could see that his hands were shaking. Mallory pulled him toward him and whispered something in his ear. Ethan pulled back, eyes wide. Suddenly, Mallory reeled back his fist and hit him square in the face, knocking him down instantly. Deke and Charlie began to yell as Ethan hit the ground, blood escaping from his nose.

"Take him to the infirmary. Fuck it, get Rex out of here, too. I don't need any more distractions," Mallory said.

Deke kicked and threw himself at the soldiers, but stopped when the barrel of a rifle was in his face. They shoved him out the door before dragging Ethan out after him. The three of them were alone.

"Soon, you'll all learn that you're not going to get away with those kinds of things," Mallory said.

"Fuck you. What the fuck did you say to him?!" Charlie yelled, his hands balling into fists.

"Nothing. I suggest you shut up before you're met with the same fate."

"Do it, you coward!"

"Hm, no. That'd be too generous."

Mallory set his phone on the cart, open to the app that controlled the collar. He didn't press anything, and Charlie knew it was a warning. He stopped struggling, and Crow loosened his grip. Crow moved away when Mallory motioned for him to. Mallory gripped his shirt to pull him down, then whispered something.

"What's with all the secrecy?" Charlie questioned.

Crow turned and approached him slowly. His face was turning pink, and Charlie backed away until he hit the wall again.

Crow stopped directly in front of him and looked him in the eyes. Charlie gasped when he felt him rest his hand between his legs.

"Wh... what are you doing?" He breathed. He gripped Crow's arm as he started rubbing his hand against him.

"St-Stop," Charlie stammered. His heart was racing, and he could feel that Crow's was, too, from the pulse in his wrist.

"God, Charlie. You're such a whore. You're not even trying to make him stop," Mallory teased. Charlie broke out of his daze and moved Crow's hand away. Mallory laughed.

"What, you don't like him touching you like that?"

"No... I-I mean, not while he's... not acting on his own free will," Charlie said.

"I've read the rest of his journal. Trust me, he wants to. Go on, Crow."

He moved his hand back, despite Charlie's hold on his wrist. Charlie slowly released his grip as he rubbed him and moved his hand slowly up his tatted arm. He hadn't realized that his eyes were closed until he felt Crow's other hand tangle in his hair. He could feel his blush as he began to get hard, and found himself pushing against Crow's hand.

Crow suddenly tensed, and Charlie opened his eyes to see Mallory had stuck a syringe in his neck.

"What the fu-"

"Shh. It's just a reversal," Mallory said.

After thirty seconds or so, Crow relaxed.

"Come on," Mallory said.

They followed him out of the room. Charlie felt the hairs on his neck and arms stand up. They ended up at his room. Mallory opened the door, motioned for them to go inside, and shut the door. They stood awkwardly as they listened to Mallory walk down the hallway.

"Um, hi," Crow finally spoke.

"Hi," Charlie laughed.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

"So-"

Charlie gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down to him.

"Charlie?"

He reached for Crow's hand without breaking his gaze. He slowly moved it back between his legs as he bit his lip. Crow leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Charlie wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He kissed him again, this time with more force.

Crow picked up him, and Charlie wrapped his legs around his hips. They grinded into each other as their kisses became sloppier; their tongues becoming entangled. Charlie moaned softly as he ran his fingers through Crow's hair. Crow pulled away and started kissing along his jaw.

"Wish this fucking collar wasn't on," he growled.

Like magic, the collar popped open. Charlie pulled it from his neck and tossed it away.

"Room's fucking bugged," Crow said.

"I don't care," Charlie breathed.

Crow kissed his neck and bit it gently. Charlie leaned his head back against the wall as small moans escaped his lips.

Crow moved him over to the bed, and continued to kiss his neck as he lied him down.

"Fuck me," Charlie moaned.

Crow straightened up and slid his pants from his hips. He gripped the top of Charlie's shorts and pulled them off, along with his boxers, in one movement.

"There's... there's lube on the desk," Charlie said, "I don't know why, but it's there."

Crow swiped the bottle from the desktop and flipped open the top. Charlie watched in a daze as he let it drip down onto his cock. He put a bit on his fingers and rubbed them over his hole.

"Fuck," Charlie breathed.

Crow leaned over him and guided himself in with one hand. They moaned in unison as he entered, and Charlie pulled him down to kiss him again.

Crow rocked his hips slowly at first, steadily increasing in pace. Charlie gripped his own cock and stroked himself

"You're so fucking tight," Crow murmured in his ear.

"Ah... don't, hhh, fuck, don't stop," Charlie moaned.

He hated how close he was already. He wanted this to last forever. Crow left love bites along his neck as he traced his fingers beneath Charlie's shirt, eventually pulling it over his head.

"I’m close,” Crow breathed. He gripped onto his hips, allowing him to go deeper.

“Fuck!” Charlie cried out as he came, lines of cum landing on his abs. A few seconds more, and Crow pulled out, stroking himself until he finished on Charlie’s chest.

They were both breathing heavily. Charlie grinned ear to ear as he pulled Crow down to kiss him again.

“I should shower,” he murmured against his lips.

“Can I join?” Crow asked.

“Yes,” Charlie giggled.

Charlie stepped in first and rinsed off. They took turns lathering up with soap, and kissed in between.

“Are we telling anyone about this?” Charlie asked.

“Fuck no. We’ll never hear the end of it,” Crow said. Charlie laughed as he shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the bathroom to retrieve their clothes, and jumped when he noticed Mallory sitting at the desk. He quickly picked up Crow’s clothes and threw them to him in the bathroom.

“Have fun?” Mallory asked.

Charlie ducked down behind the bed to slip on his clothes, only popping back up when dressed. Crow stepped out of the bathroom and folded his arms.

“Why are you here?” He questioned.

“To take you back to your room,” Mallory replied.

As they left, Crow looked over his shoulder and smiled at Charlie. Charlie returned it. He lied down on the bed, and let out a content sigh. Mallory was back a minute later, and picked up the collar from the floor.

“Sit up,” he ordered. Charlie sat up, and Mallory took note of the hickeys on his neck before snapping the collar back on. He looked annoyed, but Charlie didn’t care.

“I’m surprised you allowed us to do that,” he said as Mallory turned to leave.

“I have my reasons,” he said, walking out the door.

Charlie lied back down and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, and for once, he was able to have a refreshing nap.

[annebl4cksworld]

Cold Blood pt.3

WARNINGS: None really, I don’t even think there’s swearing ^^”

NOTE: I do not own any rights to Marvel or The Originals, I have taken content directly from the shows in order to give you a better image of what’s happening! 

A/N: Sorry i haven’t posted in a while, I’ve been going through a lot lately and haven’t had the chance to sit down and keep going.... also I haven’t figured out how to link my chapters yet so I’m sorry for new ppl

Word count: 1,500 (smaller than normal but the next part will be longer so it will make up for it) 

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

Weak from the hours of spells and torture Rebekah stumbled trying to get away from Klaus, running through doors, falling against walls and eventually ending up in the basement where she met a dead end

“Tired of running?” he called behind her

“I know how much you love the chase and I’d like to deprive you of it” huffing against a wall, watching him round the corner. Klaus was suddenly on his knees and tossing someone away from him, it was Marcel 

“Ah! The lovers reunited, this is actually perfect, I can deal with you both at the same time” pulling the dagger from his belt he waved it in the air. 

“Klaus, it was my idea to call Mikael, he had nothing to do with it” she wheezed moving to stand in front of Marcel, unconscious on the floor.

Before anything else, the blade in Klaus’ hand was driven into his chest. Outside Briar gasped in pain, everything halted to a stop and she fell towards the ground; as the energy field dropped Steve ran for her, grabbing on at the last minute before hitting the ground himself. Briar groaned turning in the arms of the super soldier, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself up “Nice save capsicle” 

He turned and sat up after her “don’t call me that” 

“Somethings wrong” Briar brushed his comment off looking over at the sanatorium, she stood and watched as her aunt and Marcel sped out of the door and off into the night. “Oh no” she breathed turning back to see Elijah carrying Klaus with Tony and Natasha right behind them,

“Uncle-”

“He did it to himself Briar, I’m taking him back to the compound” Elijah interrupted as he walked past, he placed Klaus in the car and turned back to his niece “What about aunt Rebekah?”

“In hiding; a necessary sacrifice. Go Briar, you don’t need to be here for what comes next, you did your job beautifully. This is between siblings” Elijah placed a kiss on her forehead before getting into the car and driving off.

Briar turned to face the avengers “Ok, when do we leave?” Tony then turning to face Steve “You gonna fight me on this?” Cap clenched his jaw and looked away 

“Seems you’ve already made up your mind” Steve turned to Natasha, “and I for one would like to get out of this city before any other vampires come sniffing around” the redhead flipped her hair and grinned at Briar. 

Once on the quinjet Briar leaning against the wall next to Tony who was flying, she watched steve and he adjusted his uniform, 

“He doesn’t like me” she whispered, Tony shook his head 

“His loss then” winking at Briar she rolled her eyes, “He’s not so great, there’s times where I want to punch him in his perfect teeth” 

“Down boy” Briar glanced Tony's way “what’s got your panties in a twist about him?”

“Grew up listening to how my dad ‘knew captain America’ as if it was some great feat, as if that made him some superior being. What I hate most of all is how freaking polite he is”

“Polite?” Briar scoffed I must have missed that 

“Guy dies and wakes up 70 years later, finds out there’s aliens, androids, wizards and now vampires, witches and werewolves. Let alone someone who is all three; he’s bound to be suspicious. Stand off-ish, hell, maybe even a bit of an ass” 

“Are you defending him? The guy you just said you want to punch in the teeth? I mean he’s got a hell of an ass but-”

“How close are we?” Steve asked cutting Briar off coming to stand behind Tony’s chair 

“Friday?” 

Nearly 20 minutes out, sir 

Steve nodded and walked away eyeing Briar as he went, she winked, giving a devilish smirk. 

“You were saying?” Tony asked, turning as Steve left. Briar shot him a ‘nevermind’ look shaking her head, she looked out the window as they flew closer to the compound.

Once on the landing strip, the back opened and everyone gathered their belongings. 

“Labs all set up boss” a demanding voice called from outside the ship,

“Oh, no. He’s the boss” Tony turned to face the brunette, who was now on the ship, pointing to Steve who turned his head not making eye contact with anyone,

“I just pay for everything, design everything, make everyone look cooler” 

Briar shrugged and turned to face the brunette, “what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here” 

“Hill, status report” Steve called coming to stand in front of them “Sir-“ before she could continue; Steve pulled her from the ship and spoke in hushed tones. Briar huffed, feeling an arm snake through hers, “c’mere darling, I got you” Tony whispered in her ear pulling her off the ship.

Steve watched as they walked by, “I have everything you could dream of and if I don’t I’ll have it flown in, promise.” Tony announced loudly for everyone around to hear, Nat watched Steve watching you, “She doesn’t seem so bad” 

“What’s her deal?” Hill asked 

“Nothing, she’s not a part of the team” Steve stated grabbing the tablet from Hill’s hands to sift through the photos. 

“Top shelf for little old me? Tony you spoil me” Briar winked taking the drink he handed her,

“You’re going to be meeting the rest of the team soon, a god, an Android, a witch, a rage monster, you know a little of this a little of that. Try to be nice, some of them have-“

“Anger issues?” Briar twisted the glass in her hands “They sound fun, who’s first?” 

“Tony…” a timid man called from the doorway, 

“Banner, - Tony smiled at Briar - Banner is first, what’s the word?” 

“Uh- I need you -um in the lab” without making too much eye contact he walks off 

“He gets nervous around beautiful women, it’s no big” Tony waved his hand dismissively and followed Banner, Briar close behind. 

“The scepter, we were wondering how Strucker was getting so inventive, so I’ve been analyzing the cube and take a look at this.” Banner brought up a holographic image of the cube onto the floor.

“It’s beautiful” Briar commented leaning against the doorway 

“It is; it’s like it’s thinking- i mean this could be- it’s - it’s not a human mind, i mean look at this. They’re like neurons firing.” he paced around the image

“Down in Strucker’s lab I saw some pretty advanced robotics, they deep six the data but… I gotta guess he was knocking on a very particular door.” shrugging Tony watched Banner come to a halt.

“Artificial intelligence.”

“This could be it, Bruce. This could be the key to creating Ultron.” 

“Ultron?” Briar asked sipping her drink,

“Peace in our time Briar. Imagine that?” Tony beamed 

“That’s a mad sized ‘if’ Tony” Bruce rubbed his neck 

“Our job is if what if you were sipping margaritas on a sun dried beach turning brown instead of green? Not looking over your shoulder for veronica” 

“Don’t hate I helped design veronica” Bruce started pacing again

“As a worst case measure right? What about best case? What if the world was safe? what if next time the aliens roll up to the club they can’t get through the bouncer” 

“The only ones threatening the world would be people” Briar stated leaving the doorway to stand beside Tony, offering her drink.

“I wanna apply this to the ultron program but friday can’t download a data schematic this dense, we can only do it while we have the scepter here that’s three days, give me three days” he took a sip of the drink

“So you’re going for artificial intelligence and you don’t wanna tell the team?” staring at Tony nervously,

“Right and you know why because we don’t have time for a city hall debate. I don't wanna hear: the man was not meant to meddle, medley. I see a suit of armor around the world” 

“Sounds like a cold world Tony” Bruce looked back at the image in front of him.

“I’ve seen colder” Briar locked eyes with Bruce 

“this one, this very vulnerable blue one, needs ultron. Peace in our time Banner, that’s all I’m saying” placing a hand on the small of Briars back he led her out of the lab and into the hall.

[write-1t-bop-1t]

Crashed and found

Entry for the secret shifters G/T Fanfic swap @secret-shifters

https://secret-shifters.tumblr.com/

Gift for: @syndicate-speck   https://syndicate-speck.tumblr.com/

Tiny astronaut crash lands on a giant planet or vice versa, sci-fi gulliver's travels style

Triggers/tropes to avoid: Spiders, I guess

Relationship types to avoid: None per se, feel free to go ham (but keep it sfw obviously)

Fluff or angst: No preference

I take a deep breath, running my hand through my hair and ruffling it around before breathing out and spinning in my chair to face the screen, reaching out my hand to press record,

“Hello again everybody, Ryan Harte here for log number 637, day 453 at 6:23pm Eastern time. Everything on board the ship has been running smoothly as always, no further difficulties involving the damaged engine. Alexander was able to complete the repairs with no further issue. We are a few days away from the designated drop zone, planet classification #677, and will be ready for retraction shortly after.”

I give another short sigh as I record my report, having done this almost everyday for the past year and a half. It gave time meaning, and at least it was something to do other than annoy my travel partner. I look back at the screen, smiling up at it.

“I can’t believe long it’s been…. I can’t wait for my paycheck when I get back to earth,” I say, giving a little laugh to myself.

“There is currently nothing to report on the mission, and the current planet objection is in visual range from the ship. We should-”

I get cut off from my video when the door to my room opens with a loud whoosh noise, startling me as I almost fall out of my chair, letting out a less than manly squeak of surprise.

I look over to see my travel buddy, Alexander, standing at my door with a bored expression.

“Oh, were you doing one of your diary entries again, pipsqueak?”

He says with a teasing tone, making my face turn red as I grab something off the floor and chuck it at him.

“Shove it! It’s not a diary and you know that!”

I grumble, throwing more things at him while he laughs to himself. He surrenders, putting his hands up to guard his hair, the long black strands now slightly frizzy from having collided with whatever I could have reached for moments before. He laughs again before going back to exit my room before stopping and leaning back in,

‘Well, whenever you're done with your ‘Not-Diary’, I need you to come to the front of the ship. We’ve got better visuals on the planet and I need to talk to you about it, alright?”

He says, looking at me expectantly. I quickly nod and make a shooing motion with my hands to get him to leave quickly. He laughs again before leaving me alone in my room once more. Once he leaves, a large smile breaks out on my face, as I bounce lightly with excitement. This is my first ever, real life space recon mission.

After getting into the space program at 16, with a scholarship in science, I’d always wanted to get into recon and the exploration field. I Graduated with honors at age 18, along with Alexander who graduated from ship repairs and navigation, one of the top in his class.

The planet we were headed to was said to show signs of holding valuable resources which I am supposed to gather and bring back with us to earth. Nothing was really known about the planet itself, as no one besides us has ever been this close to it. All that was really known is its size, estimated to be around 1000x bigger than our sun. But since no one knows much about it, we are being paid very handsomely once we get back home in the next year. I can’t wait to see my dad again.

I smile back at the camera,

“Well, as you heard, we are soon approaching the planet, and I am needed for the evaluation. This is Ryan Harte signing out. Love you dad!”

I say before stopping the recording and pressing the send button, to send the message back to earth’s space station, as well as so that they could send it to my dad so he knows everything was okay up here. I never want him to worry about me, so I make sure to record these often.

After sending I quickly jump up, grabbing a simple gray hoodie that had previously been thrown at Alex and throw it over my head before dashing out of the room towards the front of the ship, looking like a kid in a candy store.

My old shoes squeak against the metal as I reach the door, I bounce in place as the door rush’s open and I run inside, almost colliding with Alexander as he looks out at the black space outside the spaceship through the paned glass.

¨Present!¨ I say out loud, with a big smile on my face, causing him to roll his eyes. He motions over to the planet, and I look over to see that we’ve gotten considerably closer to it. We’re still around 2-3 days away from getting close enough to be able to dispatch my shuttle and collect parts of the large gray planet’s resources. Even so, it's already around 9000x bigger than our ship, considering our ship is about the size of a normal sized university, having to hold enough food to feed us for the to and from trips.

“Whoa.” I say mostly to myself, and Alexander nods along with me. 

He points to a lighter gray spot on the planet, “I can’t seem to get a proper scan on the planet due to the storm like clouds surrounding it, but from what I can get, that area should be the safest place for you to land. I’m going to re-route slightly to get us closer to that area, I just wanted to let you know. That okay, pipsqueak?” He says looking back at me.

I nod quickly, my excitement not faltering. 

“But why is that area safer?” I ask, just to feed my curiosity.

He explains that the area seems to be more flat than the other areas on the planet, making it easier for my shuttle to land on, along with the fact that the other, darker areas, seem to be covered with a type of dark and cloudy sky that might cause trouble with communication and engines when entering the atmosphere.

I of course, have no idea what he’s saying but nod along anyways. It probably wasn’t important anyways.

After his little safety spiel that I’ve heard a hundred times, we decide that it’s time for dinner. We made it a tradition when we started our space travel to eat dinner together as a bonding exercise, as well as to help to know each other. Now it’s just become a daily thing we do every ‘night’, to just talk and hang out. It’s not much, but when the other person with you is the only person you’ve had human interactions with for the past 2 years, you learn to appreciate it.

We walk down and make it to the ‘lobby’ where we eat, which is just an empty room with a table and two chairs melded to the ground. Bland but it works, though I wish the space program would get us better chairs.

Alexander goes and grabs our dinner, dehydrated pork and some yellow stuff I don’t bother asking about, as we talk about our days while occasionally teasing and making fun of each other. We laugh and joke around before cleaning up, saying our goodnights and getting ready for bed.

Alexander stops me before I can leave and re-explains the safety measures, protocols and blah blah blah about the exploration in a few days. I wave him off, laughing, before heading up to my room to go to bed.

As I enter, I stretch, letting out a yawn as I kick off my shoes, not caring where they go. I walk over and check my tablet to make sure my last message went through. It did, but it hasn’t been seen yet. Darn, I was hoping I would get another message from my dad, but I guess I’ll get it tomorrow.

I mess up my hair with both of my hands before getting into bed, the thoughts of finally getting to go to the planet we had been heading to for the last years and being able to finally go home and see my dad fill my mind as I quickly fall asleep.

-

The next few days go by in a blur, until I’m standing in the cockpit, struggling to pull on my gray space suit. Alexander sighs before helping me put it on, scolding me like a parent about taking this more serious. I roll my eyes, punching him in the arm before telling him that I’ll be okay.

He nods at me once before saying a goodbye as he walks towards the door to head to the main control center. I pause before running up and hugging him from behind, assuring him that I’ll be back before he knows it. He smiles at me, patting me on the head, before taking my helmet out of my arms and shoving it on my head. I whine as I have to adjust it and hear him laugh quietly to himself as he exits the room, door closing behind him. I roll my eyes as I make my way towards, and into, the shuttle prepared. I close the hatch and get comfortable, checking the ship over before booting up the power. 

The keypad lights up around me, glowing white as I flip through the proper equipment and procedures to ensure the ship operates properly, while waiting for further instructions from above.

As if on cue, I hear Alexander's voice through my helmet,

“Everything in check down there, pipsqueak?”

I roll my eyes for what feels like the millionth time as I sit back and strap into my chair, ready to finally get off this stupid main ship for once.

“All good down here, we ready to go, Tarzan?”

I ask back, making fun of his long hair, as he confirms and the ship starts up. I can feel the rumble of the engine as the ship is lowered into position and I take a deep breath, still talking to Alexander to make sure everything is ready.

We count back from ten at the hatch in front of my ship, leading into space begins to open.

Once we get to zero, I can see the large planet in front of me and the engines push me forward and out of the ship, plunging me into the dark vast of space. I lock my focus on the planet as I take control of the wheel and steer towards the area told to me by Alexander.

I can see the cloudy, storm like area around the planet, making sure to avoid the darker areas.

Once I seem to be going in the right direction, I set it into autopilot and relax my posture.

“Hey, once we get back home, wanna hang out? I know this greeeeat Mexican place near my house, you’d love it.”

I say out of the blue and here my college chuckle, “Yeah yeah, Of course. But you’re paying, pipsqueak.” He says through the comms and I let out a dramatic and offended gasp while laughing.

“What, I gotta pay you to hang out with me? I’m hurt Al, really. Here I was thinking we were friends, guess not.” I say through giggles, and I can hear Alexander laughing as well.

I can see the planet coming closer and move the steering accordingly for the best entry, making sure to soften the engines so I don’t enter the atmosphere too quickly and burn up the ship.

“Yeah well, You can’t just i##ite some##e o# #### e##p-”

I furrow my brows as he talks, unable to make out what he’s saying.

“Hey Al, you’re cutting out. Is everything okay up there?” I ask with clear worry in my voice.

Just then the power to my ship flashes off before coming back on and the engine buffers, causing me to jolt forward in my seat. I call out again to Alex, but only hear muffled static through the comms, worrying the crap out of me. I try tapping the side of my helmet to see if I can get it to come back on.

“Alexander, are you there? You’re freaking me out, what’s going on?”

I ask out again, as my ship continues towards the unknown planet. The ship shuts off and I lurch forward again before the ship comes back on, causing me to panic slightly. I check my vitals and the ship's hardware to check for malfunctions quickly, to see if I can find out what’s happening.

“RYAN? RYAN CAN YOU H##E ME?!”

I hear Alex yell through the comms, causing me to jump in my seat and respond immediately,

“Hey, yeah I can hear you now. What’s going on, my ships freaking out…”

I can hear his shaky voice, which causes my panic to rise.

“Look Ryan, you need to listen very carefully to me alright? Whatever's going on with the planet is messing with the tech on the ship and screwing up the comms. I don’t think it’s safe, you need to come back this instant so we can re-think and re-evaluate this, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, alright I’ll turn around now.”

I say quickly, quietly panicking as I reach to flip off the autopilot. I realize how close I am to the outer edge of the planet now, along with the storm, and reach to grab a hold of the steering wheel but the ship lurches forward again before I can grab it and the power shuts off for a final time, turning off the engines, along with any and all different functions of the ship.

I freeze, my breathing shallow, as I try to process what just happened. I reach slowly and yank at the steering wheel, trying to see if it would move the ship. No give. I try to turn on backup power. Nothing. But besides that, the new realization that dawns on me causes my heart to pick up and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up…

The ship is still moving towards the planet.

I get over my initial shock and start trying to talk to Alex again,

“ALEX, I CAN’T CONTROL THE SHIP. I’M MOVING TOWARDS THE PLANET!”

I can hear shuffling of papers through the comms,

“Ryan, the gravitational pull of the planet is pulling the ship in, is there any way to get it to turn around?!”

I can hear his breathing, it’s steady but shallow, like he’s trying to stay calm, for my sake and his.

“No-NO, there’s no controls! I’VE LOST ALL POWER!”

The ship lurches forward as I near the dark gray clouds, the ship almost at the point where it could touch them.

“DID YOU TRY THE BACKUP POWER?!”

“OF COURSE I TRIED THE BACKUP POWER!”

I wait a few seconds and tears prick in my eyes when Alexander doesn’t say anything and I call out for him again, telling him not to stop talking.

“Alright, just calm down Ryan. Your ship is too far away to grab with the retractable arm, I don’t know how to get you back to the ship in time. I can’t even get the main ship close to you without risking it being pulled in too. Maybe we could try a##atc#i## the el#c#tical cab### ## #### ###-”

His audio cuts out completely.

“Nononono, Alex come on, YOU CAN’T DO THIS RIGHT NOW, PLEASE!”

The ship is pulled into the clouds as I lose sight of the home ship and any hope of getting home. The ship is shaken harshly and I’m thrown out of my seat and onto the ground, cracking my helmet on the wall of the shuttle, causing it to crack. I suddenly feel this floating sensation in my stomach, my body feeling as if it’s weightless, until I look back out the windshield. The ship is falling. Fast.

All I remember was the sound of the windshield shattering and the heat surrounding me before the shuttle had plummeted to the ground, hitting the rock below with the full force of whatever gravity this planet went by, as pain fills my body and I black out.

-

I feel cold. And warm…. And wet…..

What happened…..

My head hurts…. My chest hurts….

A sudden pressure is put on my chest causing me to let out a loud whimper and the pressure is immediately retracted. I let out a shaky sigh and try to move, causing pain to shoot through my body and I let out another pained whimper.

What happened….? Why does everything hurt…? What’s that weird noise, it sounds like a dolphin…. Or a bird…. Maybe a cat….

I can’t keep my thoughts straight, everything hurts. What do I remember-?

The crash, the ship malfunctioning, the unknown planet…. Shit-

Another pressure is put on my chest again a few seconds later, touching a rib that is most certainly broken and I let out a surprised and pained gasp, causing it to go away again.

I try opening my eyes, finding the simple task to be, well, less than simple. My eyes seem focused on staying shut, but I need to see what’s happening. Am I dead? No, I don’t think ghosts feel pain…. Do they? That would be kinda cool though. Space ghost.

I try opening my eyes again, being able to open them a crack as light floods my vision, causing my eyes to tear up and close again. Wait, light? Wasn’t this planet covered in a dark perma-storm? Where’s the light coming from?

I hear some rumbling from above me, kinda like the sound my cat Rosco back home makes when he’s worried about something, a mix between a purr and a growl. 

Could it be my ship's engine? Wait, if it’s still active, it could explode!

I use all my strength to push myself into a sideways sitting position, while forcing my eyes open once again. The light hurts them and I let out a groan as I feel the numbing pain throughout my body. Suddenly the light is covered and I’m surrounded by a nice shadow. My brains too jumbled to pay attention to it at the moment, but what I do realize is that a large portion of my helmet around my left eye has broken off. 

HOW THE FUCK AM I BREATHING?!

Does this planet really have breathable air? Does that mean there’s some type of plants that can produce the same kind of air on earth? And a sun? We didn’t see any type of sun on the reading when we scanned the planet...

I take in a deep breath to test it. It feels like normal air, and it’s keeping me alive, I can ask questions later, once I get my bearing and stand up. Maybe I can contact Alex. ALEXANDER! He must be so worried, and my dad? He’s going to lose his mind! I have to get to my ship, even if it’s destroyed I could see if I could use the parts to fix my comms and get in contact with the main ship or even the space station if I’m lucky.

I try to push myself up more, managing to move one leg up so I’m in a night's kneeling position. The pain is bad, and I let out another whimper. As I do I can feel a rush of air surround me, it’s warm. I can see the ground underneath me, seeming to be a kind of gray rock, mainly flat, meaning I did technically land where I was supposed to, although I can see that my knees don’t look great, both being skinned and bleeding, but it doesn’t feel too bad.

Another rush of air, closer to my head, followed by a low growl, causing me to turn my head upwards to see what’s causing it. My eyes widen and my breath catches in my throat, unable to breath, as I see four glowing blue eyes staring right back at me, like it’s looking right through my soul.

 Not only that but the eyes are huge…. And predatory, looking at me as if I was something it just caught…

I stumble backwards falling onto my butt, cushioned by the intact space suit still surrounding me. I finally let out a scared, shaky breath, realizing that I had been holding it moments ago. The creature's gaze doesn't falter, if anything it hardens, letting out a predatory grumble, as if a warning, though I’m not exactly sure what that warning is for, causing me to freeze in place, adrenaline coursing through my veins causing my hands to feel like ice.

The creature is large, covered in a black fur in most of its body, some parts having less of it. It stands tall- scratch that, it’s fucking huge, the size of a small apartment building. It’s ‘arms’ are long, bent in a way that a monkeys would, reminding me of a baboon. Four large spider-like eyes are still locked on me and I force myself to make no sudden movements, tears welling up in fear as I start hyperventilating, unable to focus as I direct my vision towards the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with it. If I had, I would have noticed it’s head turning in a confused manner, like a puppy would when hearing a strange noise, and the curious way it’s slowly making its way towards me, as if not trying to frighten me more than I already am.

Once I feel it getting closer I look back up to see it slowly moving towards me, and I slowly scoot back to counter it. Just then it moves to put a hand behind me causing the ground to shake lightly, stopping me from moving away again. I let out a pathetic whine, before realizing the creatures face was now meters from mine, not noticing earlier that it had moved it’s face down to get to my level. It gets even closer and my eyes widen in horror and fear, tears running freely down my face at this point, and I try to move as far back as I can without touching the creature's hand.

It stops its movements, and holds its position, around two meters from me. I hold eye contact, not wanting to look away and have it come closer again. It also holds the stare, before I see its gaze flicker upwards slightly, focusing on something else. My helmet?

It looks back into the one hole in my helmet, at me, before it’s gaze in back at the top of the helmet. 

All of a sudden I felt something touch the back of my helmet harshly, and I let out a surprised noise as I turned around to see the hand from earlier had moved so it could poke me with one of its long, bony fingers. I start moving away from it, while unconsciously moving closer to the monster that was in front of me.

I feel another wave of hot air hit me from behind, as if it’s the creature's subtle way of telling me it’s still there. I jump slightly, and turn around again to face it. It’s now on the ground for the most part, one arm wrapped behind me and one... in the air… Like the position a cat would make when playing with a feathery toy or a mouse it just caught.

And I’m pretty sure I am that mouse.

I see the hand from the air start coming towards me, and I use my arms to try and cover my face the best I can, letting out a choked sob and whimper as I brace for the impact, for the pain of the hand coming and crushing my body.

But it doesn't come.

I look back up to see two of it’s five fingers positioned on either side of my helmet, before they close and grab lightly onto my helmet. Then they start pulling up, as if to try and disconnect the helmet from the rest of my space suit. Wait-

“Wa-Nononono, Stop it! LET ME GO!”

I yell out, panic taking over my body again as I struggle against its grip. And the creature does stop for a second after hearing my outburst, before pulling upwards again, taking most of my body with it. I’m still touching the ground with my feet as I try and use my hands to hold my helmet in place, not wanting to be even more exposed and vulnerable than I already feel.

I don’t think it feels the same way.

Once the tips of my toes can barely touch the ground, the creature twists its fingers lightly, snapping the thick plastic part that connects my helmet and suit with ease, allowing me to finally fall to the ground with a hard thud, landing on my backside. The collision with the rock causes painful jolts to course through my body and I roll on my side, clutching my chest to try and relieve some of that pain.

The helmet is dropped somewhere near me, landing on the ground with a hard thud, the sound of the rest of the glass frame shattering. I whimper again as I feel the breath of the beast come closer to me as I try to curl in on myself, as if to make myself smaller, as I screw my eyes shut.

I want to go home….

My hair, now wet with sweat, covers most of my face, bits of blood near my temples where my head had most likely collided with the side of the ship during the crash as well as more tears covering my face as I let out another choked sob.

I open my eyes slightly, only to see one of the monsters fingers coming towards my head, most likely to crush it like a grape. I whimper again, trying to tuck my head into my body, to make myself feel a little less scared and helpless. It doesn’t work.

The creature's finger touches my hair lightly, and I wince at the feeling, its finger tip being about the same size, if not bigger than my head. It holds the gentle and light touch, barley even touching my head at all, before it starts to rub against my scalp lightly. I let out a surprised and shaky breath at the gentle touch, the monster acting as if I’m a piece of glass that could be broken and damaged easily. The quick realization dawns on me that….

It’s petting me.

Like I’m some kind of scared animal.

And it actually feels kinda nice. Rubbing in a small circular motion against my scalp, soothing any former pain that resided there, causing my face to soften its expression at the feeling. It moves its motion slightly towards my face, causing me to whimper quietly. It’s quick to move its finger away to rub the back of my head, as well as my neck in a soothing motion, as if to apologize. Then the vibrations start.

Low, like a cat's purr, which only adds on to the calmness feeling washing over me along with the drowsiness, which I find very concerning as I should be scared, terrified even. But it feels so good… I hadn't had any physical contact with anyone besides light shoves and teasing from Alex for the past few years, making this gentle and almost nurturing gesture feel like heaven.

The purring gets louder and I start to get more tired. The creature seems to take notice of me being more docile and starts getting more bold with its touches. Avoiding my chest, it goes and lightly moves my arms, while still petting me with its other hand. I feel a few pokes to the soft material around my legs before it starts petting my back as well. My eyes start to close even though I’m trying to keep them open. I’m just so tired….

The creature seems to sense my tiredness and I can feel his hand cup my entire back before his other hand stops petting me, as well as the vibrations ceasing, causing me to let out a childish whine, missing the feeling.

It seems to notice my distress and quickly scoops me up in its hand, lifting my whole body carefully into the air. I let out a panicked noise again, struggling against his hand, not expecting to be lifted 100 feet into the air in a matter of seconds.

The creature is quick to pull me into its chest, causing me to pull up against its surprisingly soft, black fur, and the vibrations in its chest start up again almost instantly. I hate to admit it, but the action calms me down immediately, and I subconsciously snuggle against the fur, too tired and hurt to really care about anything besides my own comfort, my old tears dried against its body as it stands there for a few minutes as I continue to doze off before it starts moving, jumbling me slightly, making me clutch onto the giants fur for stability.

It scares me at first, but the purring increases immediately, calming me down quite easily. I notice that we’re heading in the direction of a large, dark gray mountain, surrounded by even larger plant type things in different shades of dark green and blues. I glance at the ground and see the creature is walking slowly on three of it’s four hands, the fourth one holding me. I also notice the tail following up from behind that I didn’t see until now, shaped like a monkeys.

On the ground I can see bits of metal from…. My ship!

I squirm, breaking out of my calm and tired mindset to try and find a way to get to the ground remembering that I need to contact Alex, but the second I try to get out of the hand, its fingers cup tighter around me, caging me against the soft wall and the vibrations become more insistent. They’re not so tight that I can’t move, but they’re very clearly meant to keep me in the creature's hold, as if insisting that I stay put.

I of course don’t listen and continue to try to struggle, earning me a loud growl possessive from above as they stop moving all together. The fingers cup tighter around me, and I stop moving all together, shaking slightly in fear, tears welling up in my eyes again.

I’m held for a few more seconds of not moving…

Then the purring starts again, it’s ‘thumb’ comes up and rubs the top of my head lightly, like re assurance, before being removed and it starts walking again. I try to control my breathing again, now realizing that I’m not getting out of here.

When we get near the mountain, the air surrounding it turns cold causing me to shiver into the vibrating surface. The creature's body quickly heats up to help keep me warm, along with the fur, allows me to lose focus of everything else as my vision fades to black, cuddling up against the warm monster that just technically kidnapped me.

Once I’m out, the creature takes my unconscious body into its home, a cave in the side of the mountain, and rests me against a clear, soft gel like substance to allow me to sleep, as it removes my ripped space suit carefully, making sure not to disturb my sleep. It leaves my clothes on as it takes some sort of blue substance and applies it generously on my wounds and injuries while I sleep, making sure to stay close to keep me warm, before laying next to me like a large cat would, using its hand as a large blanket to make sure I’m warm during the night and so I don’t run away if I wake up before it.

It gives me one last nuzzle against the top of my head, scenting me slightly before purring and falling asleep, holding the tiny baby it found while looking for food, now glad it had gone in the wrong direction, as this cub would have never survived on its own.

They will never let the tiny, scared baby go, not after its mother had clearly abandoned it to die, terrified and injured.

It’s now their baby and they will take care of it.

Forever.

[valkyriesryde]

Shut Up

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Platonic!?Reader

Summary: Exams at the SHIELD academy are coming up and with that members of the Avengers have come to observe the next potential heroes. Some are more promising than others.

Requested by @idk123906​

Word Count: 2k

A/N: it should be known my life is basically just uni and My Hero Academia at the moment so writing about someone with powers I was like finally my time has come even though I literally write for Marvel but yea i don’t know what happened here but enjoy

What should I have for dinner?

I need to work on my left hook.

This is pointless, I know all of this already.

I shouldn’t be here, I should be up in the big leagues already.

Why the fuck is she staring at me?

God she’s so annoying.

Her combat skills are awful. She’s going to lose.

You stood at the edge of the mat, your fists by your side and your knees bent ready to leap forward if need be.

I’m going to destroy her.

Your opponent stared back at you from the otherside of the mat. He smirked, almost as if he was looking forward to the fight even though it was nearing the end of the training, this had to be at least his fifth sparring match, it was your sixth and final one.

“You’re going down,” he growled.

This will be a short one.

Your shoulders laxed for a moment at the voice. Not because it relaxed you, but because it was the nail in the coffin. Having the voice of the Black Widow in your head telling you she knows you’ll lose is never very motivating. 

It was the second to last week of training at the new SHIELD academy and there was so much tension in the air that it could be cut with a knife. Exams were the end of next week and nobody knew what the practical was going to be like.

There were no friends left, sure the cliques still moved in groups together, but once they stepped onto the mats it was you vs them no matter who you versed.

The final week also meant that sessions were being supervised by the best of the best. Natasha Romanoff a.k.a Black Widow had been present every day so far, today Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson were all present along with her.

They’d be here all day, watching, observing, even taking notes every now and then. And you had to spend the entire day listening to what they really thought about your fellow classmates as well as yourself. All thanks to your own powers of telepathy. You blocked it out mainly, or tried to at least, wearing headphones or focusing your mind on specific sounds and voices. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to ignore and sometimes it was tactical to hear what people were thinking around you.

Right hook

You dodged the attack as your feet moved swiftly to the side and you ducked under his swing. He always planned his moves in his head.

What the fuck?! Playing hard to get huh bet she can’t do it twice.

You couldn’t, he swung his leg and kicked you square in the back as you tried to regain your footing. 

She needs to work on her spacial awareness.

A new voice, one you had heard plenty of today. Your gaze peered to the Avengers standing to the side as you turned to your opponent. Natasha was shaking her head as she typed on her tablet. Bucky looked like he’d taken the hit himself as he cringed “rookie mistake”. Sam appeared unfazed. Steve Rogers, his stare was directly on you and it was obvious it was you he was thinking about. So you decided to take his advice.

Looking at the space around you you noticed that even though your opponent had the brute force and his combat far outclassed yours he’d made a mistake. In charging towards you he’d put himself at the edge of the ring. You had space all around you to move and dodge, if you kept him against the outer rim you may have a shot. 

So you moved, you stepped around and he followed your movement to try and read your attack. You kept him at the outer rim.

But he lunged again and then you were scuffling on the ground trying to get him off of you. He out-skilled you, he was stronger and bigger and you didn’t have a chance. 

How’d she get into this program?

You huffed and continued to try and kick him off as you heard Steve’s voice again. A scream and a punch but he’d already swung you out of the ring. You lost. Again. 

She’s not going to make it. - Steve

She’ll never survive. - Bucky

Disappointing really, with that power. - Sam

I wouldn’t want her on my team. - Natasha

You pulled yourself up from the floor, your blood boiling as you cursed yourself and stormed towards your bag, your sessions were done you didn’t exactly feel like sticking around for the last of them to be done. 

“Hey!” The deep voice called after you and your steps stopped as the Steve Rogers came to stand before you in all his glory. “I just wanted to tell you good try out there, you’re not always going to win them but you can learn from them. If you wanted I have some pointers that might help you?” 

You need it.

“Thank you, I appreciate it but I think I’ve got this, I’m fine really,” you answered and tried to step around him but he was just so massive it was hard to avoid hitting his shoulder on the way past. 

Won’t even take help when she obviously needs it

There was three hours until the final exam now. You’d trained every day, into the early hours in the morning in the gym to late night runs around the facility. None of it felt enough when you couldn’t even get out the voices of your peers and teachers saying how you were never going to make it; that you weren’t good enough. Captain America had made an appearance at every session since the first day and his voice was the loudest.

She needs to work on her agility

So you trained your agility that night to prove him wrong.

Her hits are weak

So you went through three punching bags over one night to perfect them. 

Your body was exhausted, your mind was empty after the written exam the day before. The final exam was before you and finally it had been revealed what you would be doing, a fight, one fight, one sparring session, verses the Avengers best hand to hand combat members. 

Clint Barton. Natasha Romanoff. Steve Rogers. Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes. Three students to each and you were peered with none other than Steve. Even worse, you were his last one. 

Because Steve and Bucky were enhanced they would be wearing restraints that lessened their strength against their opponents. There was a pattern for who they were paired with. Clint was peered with those that were highest in agility skills. Natasha worked with the top three students. Bucky was with the ones who had explosive or dangerous mutated powers. Sam was with the ones who preferred the long tactical fights. Steve was classed with the ones who had strength mutated powers...except you, you should have been with Clint or Sam but you were peered with Steve and you had no idea why. 

You’d avoided all of the heroes for the past week, the closer they got the louder their voice was and you couldn’t deal with the hit to your mental state or motivation at a time like this. There as no avoiding them now though. 

Saving the easiest for last, he’s getting lazy. - Bucky

I can’t believe I have to stick around for this, it’ll be over by the time I reach the door. - Sam

I wonder if she uses it during combat? - Steve

You tilted your head at him but shook it off. It was well known what all of your powers were. It was also known how difficult it was to use telepathic powers in combat, you weren’t like Scarlett Witch, you couldn’t get inside someone’s head you could only hear their voices and even then if their guard was up sometimes it was hard.

Shake hands. Step back. The bell rings and Steve doesn’t attack. 

I haven’t seen her hit first.

He wants you to? 

Don’t drag this out for the fun of it you idiot. - Natasha.

That was it. Your blood boiled and your anger took over. You charged for Steve but he dodged you easily until you were leaping onto his bent leg to hoist yourself over his shoulders and to his other side, an elbow between his shoulder blades to send him away from you. 

Why doesn’t she do that in training?

“Because no one here has the same stance as you do.” You bite back at him and he loses his focus for a second, just enough for you to send a kick his way but not long enough for him not to catch your leg afterwards. 

“So you do use your power during combat then,” he smiled. God just get it over with, if you didn’t want this job so fucking bad you’d let him beat you immediately but you had to prove yourself. You had to prove your worth to him, to the rest of the Avengers and to all your classmates that actually you did deserve to be here. You had every right to be here just like everyone else. 

The two of you went back and forth for what felt like hours but was only a couple minutes, even with the restraints Steve still hit hard. He didn’t give you an opening, not one that you could find, he was too quick, at this point you were just running out the clock...too bad there’s no timer. 

Can you communicate back?

You shook your head, to answer his question and it gave you time to try and catch your breath. 

You really want this? You’ve improved a lot this past week.

Your scowl was ever prominent on your face as his comment reminded you of every fucking, you landed a punch, comment, then a kick to his left side that was left open, that came from him and his friends. 

Do you only hear your opponents thoughts?

“No.” Steve stood straight, he was sweating, you were both covered in it, your breathing heaving and your voice ice cold towards him.

What the fuck is going on? - Bucky

They didn’t know what you were saying but you kept talking to him and he wasn’t saying a word, they must have guessed you were using your power but this was an exam for christ’s sake you’re meant to be fighting.

“I hear them all, I don’t often have a choice in it,” you told him, you were so close to being done, you didn’t think your body could take it much longer, one more hit and you would be down for the count. 

I’m sorry. I’ve been underestimating you this entire time. 

Your eyes blurred. You used to look up to the Captain, you used to want to work alongside him, to follow in his footsteps but you weren’t so sure anymore. He and his friends took one look at you and decided you weren’t cut out for it. You let out a laugh as you and Steve went back to throwing attacks and attempting to dodge one another. This is how villains are made, this is why they say never meet their heroes. 

You can’t go much longer.

You gritted your teeth. FUCK OFF you wanted to yell at him. You were the one with telepathic powers but he was the one reading you. 

You’ve already passed you know. 

“It’s not about passing anymore though.” He quirked an eyebrow as you leaped behind him and caught him in an arm bar. “I deserve to be here.” He didn’t answer you, somehow through pushing and pulling he got out and in the process you were thrown out of bounds. You punched at the ground and groaned, as long as you walk out of this room on your own accord that was okay, then you can go straight to the nurse and pass the fuck out. 

“You do. But you’re not ready to be out there yet.”

Part Two: Vigilante

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it!

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[anothertimdrakestan]

Set In Stone - Choose Your Own Love Story Prologue (Tim Drake or Bart Allen x Reader)

Words: 2k

~ AH!!! Welcome to my newest multi chapter fic! Except there’s a twist! It’s up to you dear reader. I’ll be writing two different stories about each path, like a choose your own adventure, except you choose how your love story progresses to the eventual end! There will be a private masterlist specifically for this series where you can choose the way your personal love story unfolds. Just know that the future is never cemented, meaning you can always go back and try again! Think of this as the prologue to the actual event, but your first decision drops tomorrow, meet Bart or dig deeper into Tim? Hope you enjoy! ~

Seeing teenage heroes was really something else. They were your age, and they weren’t grumpy and old like the Justice League. “Okay well this is fun and all but I wanna hang with people my age!” you groaned following J'onn down the never ending corridors of the Watchtower. “You know your powers are not fit for the type of missions the Young Justice team attempt, you are arguably weaker than the regular human” he reminded you. That was rude. “Am not! I’m an asset! I can’t get hit cuz I know where they’re gonna swing so who cares if I have a mental breakdown every once and while!” J'onn knew you weren’t wrong, you taking a hit was a rare occurrence, but the Justice League refused to risk you even taking one hit, you’d protected thousands by scanning the infinite number of different possible futures. 

“Everything you need is here” you replied “I knew you were gonna say that, like I literally knew it” you also knew you had to prod J'onn just for about two more minutes until you met Nightwing. “Oh my god Nightwing fancy seeing you here!” you grinned at J'onn who now understood your goal. “Hello, I didn’t know the YJ team had a new member?” Dick glanced at J'onn who shrugged. “Do not blame me Nightwing, Flash found her and the team agreed she stays with us” you rolled your eyes before starting with Dick Grayson, but he didn’t know you knew that yet. 

“Hi! Y/N, no last name. Flash found me when he ran into the future and I was totally feeling the mode because I got these powers [ you tapped your head as Dick smirked ] and I can like see different parts of future when I’m super focussed, so like short time is kinda easy but far away and hard and I don’t remember anything from my past. I’m like a future only kinda girl.” you sighed, hoping you’d made sense. Dick’s eyes lit up. “So you don’t have a family, and they’re just keeping you here?” you nodded, crossing your arms to try to look more emotionally secure. 

“Dibs” and something sparked in your head, this was a new future. It hurt. You sunk to the ground clutching your head as a new future bounced around your consciousness. Trying to shake out of it you realized you’d been carried to a med bay, Dick and J'onn stood above you looking concerned. Pushing them off you as you got up you explained “sometimes people make big decisions that change the future, I’m guessing you calling ‘dibs’ on me changed something, but I’m a little too tired to check if that’s okay, also what does dibs even mean?” and Dick smiled, “you’ll have to come find out!” and against J'onn’s protests he pulled you towards the Zeta Tubes. 

Flash zipped in front of you and Dick. “No.” and Dick waved him off. “I’m taking her to the manor, get her to meet the family maybe I’ll get a sister if Bruce is in a mood” he waggled an eyebrow at Flash who was focussed now on you knowing he couldn’t get in Dick’s way. “I know you don’t know him yet but if Jason Todd asks you to do anything that seems dangerous say no. And watch out for Damian’s swords. I guess just look for Tim Drake, he’s a good one” and he patted you on the shoulder. “Go feel the mode kid”  and you face palmed. “Flash you mean crash the mode oh god don’t even try to be cool” you groaned. “You totally have to meet Bart” Dick mumbled before he cleared you for zeta tube access. 

You appeared in what can only be described as a man cave. There was a giant computer where a tiny boy sat covered in leather typing. There was a teenager looking about your age punching dummies while another boy was shooting literally guns at the dummies. “Welcome to the batcave!” Dick announced loud enough for the three boys heads to turn. The smallest boy stopped typing and stalked over to you. “A little young for you Grayson, stolen her from the baby justice team?” you knew this was Damian Wayne, and you couldn’t contain yourself.

“OH MY GOD BATMAN HI!” you screeched pulling him into your chest. “You’re totally crash like so cool but you’re so little right now! Last time I saw you, you were like super tall but you totally got moded or something - oh I wasn’t supposed to say that don’t worry!” Dick nudged you “this is Robin, Batman, Bruce Wayne, is in his office” and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Right, no spoilers” and Damian stood still, processing his own future. “Moving on, Tim and Jason!” the two older boys had come down to get a closer look.

“Hood, Drake, this is totally cool!” you exclaimed, shaking their hands. “Why is he Red Hood and I’m Drake? Not Red Robin?” Tim looked puzzled. Best not ruin his life like that, this was one of the few things you planned on changing. “Because I know you’re Tim Drake! So does the world, Drake is a good LAST NAME right? Red Robin is totally crash for a hero name!” and Tim looked a little confused, but brushed it off. “What the demon said, she new?” and you shook your head, explaining your story again.

“20 bucks says adoption papers” “50 says she gets a room” “75 on a new animal persona” the boys started screaming bets as soon as they heard the “family trauma emotional instability” part. “Why can’t she be in Young Justice? Or the Outsiders? She’s still a teenager” Tim looked confused. “I dunno man, she’s been with the JL for a while because she’s apparently delicate which is bullshit” Dick explained and you strongly agreed. “None of you could even land a hit on me” you puffed out your chest. “Care to defend that claim?” Damian unsheathed a sword. “No! J'onn sai-” you cut Dick off. “Absolutely ”.

Now you were dodging and ducking Damian’s advances. You’d swung a couple punches but it means undoing some focus which allows Damian to get his own shots in, so you mostly stayed on defense, letting him get frustrated and tired. “I think you’ll get better with practice baby Batman” you teased him. Next was Jason, bullets were hard to avoid because you didn’t have lightning fast reflexes, although that would be nice. But Jason wasn’t as calculated as Damian so you could play a little dirtier. Knocking his guns out of his hands you let up, “this is boring I’m done” you raised from the ground where you and Jason had tumbled down on. 

“So you really have powers. Your moves are all the most probable choice mathematically, you can’t be running the numbers in your head that quick!” Tim was toying with a tablet, shocked at your prediction abilities. “That’s right Boy Wonder, that was fun but I’m feeling kinda diz-” and then you realized you’d overworked yourself a little bit, and it all faded to black. 

You woke up to fully aged Batman. “Oh god no I’m back. How am I back! Damian you were just a kid like ten minutes ago! How long have I been out?” you began to throw blankets off yourself, blankets? You were in a bed in someone’s room. “Calm down, Y/N, Y/N! It’s okay!” and the Older-Damian just enveloped you in a hug. You couldn’t remember the last hug you’d had. Literally couldn’t remember. And it was a welcomed comfort. Pulling away you got a closer look, and it wasn’t Damian Wayne, but Bruce. 

“Bruce right? Current Batman?” you whispered, trying to wrap your mind around what had just happened. “That’s me, I see you’ve met my son, at multiple ages too” his eyes were smiling but his mouth wasn’t, it showed concern. “Yes, I did, I’m sorry for being a nuisance, it’s a pleasure to meet you but clearly I’m a bit moded so I should head back to the tower” you explain beginning to get up. “Actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you feel alright? [ you nodded, your powers were still a little too weak to peek ahead at what he was going to say ] Well, as you can see, I’ve got a couple of children, and you haven’t even met all of them. And I take them under my protection and I train them, and it seems to me you want training. Now you’re not ready for field work but you can start with me and my team, and maybe do a couple visits with the Young Justice team when Tim heads over. I think I can help you, and give you a family, would that be something you want?” 

A family, you had one of those. And you knew the word brought you warmth, that had to be a good thing. “I think I’d like that a lot, but I’m kinda already with the Justice League ya know? Their personal magic 8 ball.” and Bruce shook his head. “They won’t be a problem for me, you’ll fit right in with my family” and you felt a smile spread over your face. “Then it’s a deal!” and you stuck out a hand, Bruce clasped it, pulling you in for another hug. 

“We’ll talk later about what this means logistically, but there’s someone really excited you’re here.” and Tim Drake came bursting through the door, holding cookies. “Welcome to the team Y/N! You don’t know Alfred yet but he made these! I’m so glad you’re here!” he was beaming with excitement. And blushing? “Hi Tim, I’m glad to be here!” you chirped. Bruce mumbled something about paperwork and left the room as Tim continued. “This is totally cool, if you want I can call Bart I think he’d totally want to meet you! Or, you and I could hangout just the two of us!” there was that blush again. “Yeah! Can I just sit and think for a minute before I catch up with you?” this was a decision you wanted to read into, it felt important. 

Tim left, and you sat back into the plush bed, diving into the future. And it was something you hadn’t seen you. There were two futures, still fuzzy from the infinite decisions to be made securing the future, but it was clear enough to see that it was your wedding day. Down one path you saw a beautiful wedding with someone you haven’t met yet, and you looked beyond happy. You heard yourself whisper “if only Tim were here to see this” wiping a tear away in the arms of your lover. Recoiling back you knew this future wouldn’t do, not at Tim’s expense. So you went towards the other. Same set up, but this time it was Tim that you were marrying, but the same tear slid down your cheek “if only Bart could be here” you recognized the name. Bart, the guy you’re supposed to be meeting. 

And you were stuck in the middle no matter what. Like yin and yang you couldn’t find a future where you didn’t end up in the arms of one at the other’s grave. Or worse, in the futures where you tried to pick them over yourself both lost their lives saving you. So how you do pick? Who gets to be your future and who has to perish to secure it?

“Y/N you ready yet?” Tim called from down stairs. It was years out, but you knew every decision you made from now on was one step closer to the loss of a hero. And there was nothing you could do about it. 

First Decision:

Get To Know Tim Drake First

Meet Bart Allen

 ~ I really hope you’re excited to make your own fic! The masterlist with the choices goes up with the actual start tomorrow! I can’t wait!!! ~

[stovetuna]

Imagine Steve/Avengers walking in to Tony entertaining two soldiers in the common room and being really confused because Tony??? Despises the military??? But then find out that those two soldiers are actually from the “fun-vee” way back in IM 1 and Tony’s fitting them with prosthetics.

ahhh this has been stuck in my head for DAYS anon! I don’t necessarily agree with the assessment that Tony hates the military, per se (doing business with the military and the military industrial complex, however, and all that that toxic shit entails, definitely yes), BUT it’s such a heartbreaking/warming concept I had to run with it! I think I got it right with Air Force vs Army, but the movie was kinda vague—I’m going off of the fact that the driver said “I’m an airman,” which you would not say if you were in the Army.

and since the airmen (and woman) Tony was traveling with in the Fun-Vee are canonically deceased, I thought I’d have Tony do something…well, Extremely Tony™ to compensate…

(::whispers:: also we’re just gonna pretend that the Bucky-killed-Tony’s-parents-revelations of Cap 2/3 aren’t a thing in this vaguely alternate MCU universe. la-di-da, la-di-da…)

***

It’s not surprising to walk into the Avengers common area and see Tony Stark working on something no one can quite comprehend. That’s par for the course, really, as commonplace as days that end in Y. Machines, phones, tablets, watches, the toaster after Hulk pressed the cancel button a little too hard—they’ve seen Tony futzing with just about everything that exists in the Tower (and some things that don’t—couldn’t—exist anywhere else except where Tony is). 

What the team isn’t expecting when the elevator doors open onto the communal floor that sunny Tuesday afternoon is a living room scattered with men and women in various states of modest undress, all of whom immediately pivot in place to take stock of the new arrivals. Three men, one woman, and in the middle of their protective circle is Tony, eyes blazing with the same thrill of invention he often gets in the lab, a pair of needle-nose pliers clenched in his teeth.

Steve in particular notices the way Tony looks, because he’s developed a bad habit of doing that over the past year and change, and he’s kind of helpless at this point. Tony’s backlit by the afternoon sun, preoccupied with whatever he’s doing with the strange woman’s arm to distraction, and Steve can’t be judged too harshly—anyone with eyes would drag theirs over the exposed muscles of Tony’s arms, the shift and flex of his shoulders, the firm taper of his waist, the pronounced curve of his a—

“Are we, uh, interrupting something?” Clint has to shout to be heard above the music blasting from all corners of the room. 

Tony looks up from his work and waves his free hand, the one that isn’t wrist-deep in what looks remarkably like a prosthetic arm. He makes a ‘cut it off’ motion to his neck before taking the pliers out of his mouth while FRIDAY lowers the rock music to a dull background hum. 

“Hey! Sorry, I tried to keep it to the lab, but these guys wanted to see where the Avengers hang out, and I couldn’t say no.” 

Steve tears his eyes away from Tony (who should really work the sweaty-and-disheveled-mechanic look more often) to take in the others in the room with him. It’s a panorama of people, and the first thing Steve notices, besides their more obvious differences, is how comfortable they all are with each other, to the point that walking in on this moment feels invasive, almost rude. 

The four are all of remarkably different builds and backgrounds, not a similarity between them: an African American man, no taller than Steve was before the serum, sits on the couch; a white man, thin as a rake and twice as tall, is reaching for a glass of water on the coffee table; an Asian American man, whose shoulders are somehow even broader than Steve’s, stands rigidly next to Tony, arms folded across his chest; and the lone woman, whose glossy black hair is wound tightly in a bun at the back of her head. Steve notes the beautifully elaborate Native American tattoo covering the expanse of her shoulders and upper back. 

Then Steve notices the high-and-tights, the form-fitting, drab beige shirts they’re all wearing, the combat boots lined up behind the loveseat, and he realizes, much like he did with Sam that morning in DC, oh—these are my people.

“Ah, well, welcome to the octagon!” Clint says with an easy smile, stepping forward to shake hands and say hello like a normal human being. Natasha gives Steve one of her looks before she and Sam follow him into the living room—I don’t know any more than you do.

Bruce, Wanda, and Vision stay behind with Steve to let the first wave through. Steve watches his teammates greet the airmen without fanfare, welcoming strangers into their private midst like it’s routine. 

“Didn’t know y’all would be around, else we would’ve stayed outta sight.” 

Sam laughs, clapping the sitting man on the shoulder. “Dude, if Tony told us you were here, I would have come downstairs and bugged you, myself.” 

“Sure, PJ—you just wanted to see what real Air Force muscle looks like,” the man grins, flexing his barrel chest hard enough to strain his shirt. Sam guffaws and gives him a friendly punch to the shoulder, which the man returns in kind with a fist to the kidney. 

Clint is already deep in conversation with the redheaded beanpole, who talks so fast it’s dizzying; Natasha is standing next to the third man, keeping her eyes forward, and together they watch Tony disappear back into his work, muttering things back and forth to each other, so quiet even Steve can’t hear. 

“I think all is clear,” Vision says smoothly, drifting forward with Wanda, who is visibly fascinated by the woman’s tattoo until she steps into the throng and sees something that makes her face fall. 

Steve moves forward, curious and worried in equal measure. Bruce is hot on his heels. 

“—I mean it’s crazy right? It’s crazy, Tony Stark, Tony Stark calls us up out of the blue one day and says ‘You’ll be waiting six months to a year for a decent repair job, let alone a complete replacement, and I owe you guys, come on by Avengers Tower—”

Redhead is gabbing excitedly, gesticulating like Tony does when he’s in the mad depths of an invention binge. Steve sees the glint of metal and hears the whir of mechanisms working smoothly together in tandem and realizes both of the man’s hands are prosthetic. 

“Oh man! Oh, man! Captain, sir, wow, it’s—fuck, shit, my mama would kill me for swearing in front of you, fucking—shit, sorry, fuck—ah, damn it!”

Steve smiles and introduces himself—Corporal Bill Levee, apparently, is just as talkative up close. For all that his hand is made of metal, his grip feels remarkably, tangibly real. 

While Bill goes back to talking compound bows with Hawkeye, Steve looks at the man on the couch. Sam and Vision are now sitting on either side of him: both of his legs end at mid-thigh, and in their place are what look like brand-new metal limbs, designed to match his proportions exactly. The metal is dark, shiny, beautiful. He looks thrilled. He looks even more excited when Steve approaches, leaps to his feet and doesn’t even balk at the fact that Steve is a head and change taller than him and a superhero—he just steps right up to Steve and jabs him once in the shoulder with a grin. 

“Captain Rogers,” he says, and sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it. The man points a thumb at himself: “Captain Freddy Harrison. A little after your time, sir, but an honor to meet you regardless.”

Bill is still talking a mile a minute behind him; Freddy sits back down on the couch and lets Steve continue his “Captain America Meet-and-Greet” but makes him promise to come back and swap stories, which Steve does, happily, even as his mind whirls. How does Tony know these people? Why are they here? Where did these prosthetics come from? 

Bruce has joined Natasha, standing apart from the rest to talk to her and her new friend. Steve stops to say hello, as is only right, waiting until he’s entered the man’s line of sight to do so. Only then does he realize that the man has no line of sight, because both of his eyes are prosthetic. 

“I’m not completely blind, Captain,” he says, voice low but good-humored. Next to him, Natasha smothers a smile behind her hand. 

“Steve, this is Sergeant Daniel Kwon,” Bruce offers. The sergeant smirks and extends a hand—the eyes in his sockets look incredibly lifelike, but don’t move even a fraction of a millimeter. They gleam, still, with an uncanny sense of knowing. Steve has a sneaking suspicion they see more than enough and match his original eyes perfectly. 

“I’ll still make an exception in your case, Sergeant Kwon,” Steve replies, shaking his hand, “for not saluting a ranking officer.”

Dan chuckles under his breath.

“Let’s see your battlefield commission and then we’ll talk rank, sir,” he says. 

“Ugh, men.”

Steve turns around, and there’s Tony, flipping shut a panel high on the woman’s left arm with a smile. He pockets the pliers and drags the back of his forearm across his glistening forehead. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, a saxophone is blaring. 

Honestly, the intrusive thoughts he could deal with, but the fact that Tony looks this good after hours of hard labor really isn’t fair. 

“Seriously, barely two minutes in and you military guys are at it like frat bros at a kegger.” Tony looks sidelong at the woman, who rolls her shoulders with a pop and a groan. “How do you manage?” 

“Easy,” she says, “I let them drink until they pass out and then I run back to the women’s barracks with all their clothes so they have to walk across the TOC butt-naked.”  

“I think we need to compare our respective strategies,” Natasha says, taking Wanda’s arm on her way to greet the other woman. “This is Wanda; I’m Natasha.”

The woman turns to face them. Her features are striking in a way that makes Steve think of old friends from the war, men he met on those rare occasions he had leave. He’d listen to Native American Code Talkers tell stories of land and legacy and home, stories older than anything Steve had ever known. He’d never been so humbled. 

“Delores,” she replies, shaking their hands. “But please, call me Del, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Steve looks at Tony, who giggles—giggles—and mouths ‘Umbridge.’ Del must have ears like a bat, because she smacks him smartly with her prosthetic arm and Tony yelps before devolving into outright laughter. Steve could watch and listen to Tony laugh—that big, gut-wrenching cackle Tony thinks is unattractive but Steve thinks makes Tony look like happiness personified—all day. 

The conversation devolves quickly from there, and within a couple of excitable minutes, the airmen are eager to get a look at the Avengers’ game room. They pile into the elevator, talking animatedly over each others’ heads, placing bets and picking teams as the doors close. 

In their wake, Steve’s ears are buzzing, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s now alone. With Tony. 

It happens often enough that the fact itself isn’t jarring, but something about being alone with disheveled-frazzled-happy-sweaty Tony sets Steve’s nerves on high alert. Tony is loose-limbed and relaxed, moving in and out of Steve’s space as he picks his way around the living room barefoot, looking for discarded tools. 

“There you are,” he coos at a tiny device that looks remarkably like a laser pointer. Knowing Tony, it’s probably a real laser. He pockets it, assumably to put away later (or fish out of the laundry at the last minute). 

“Who are those people, Tony?” 

“Friends of friends,” Tony replies. Steve also knows Tony well enough to recognize his I am being deliberately vague voice when he hears it. 

“Uh-huh.” Steve sits on the arm of the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. “And who are they really?” 

“Who wants to know?”

“Me,” Steve says gently, scratching his palms with dulled fingernails. “They’re strangers, and they’re in our home. I think if you were in my shoes you’d want to know.” 

Tony stoops to pick up and pocket what looks like a dissected nine-volt battery. Steve kind of wants to ask, but he’s too distracted by Tony’s ass in those black Levis to ask any cogent questions. Seriously, he wonders, are those painted on?

Only when Tony sighs, and quite heavily, that Steve realizes this was more than just a friendly house call (of sorts) on Tony’s part. He watches Tony stand up, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows bright with the glow of sunset, and admires the way Tony suits the view so perfectly. He looks good all the time, but like this—skin burnished gold, brown eyes honeyed by the light—he’s something else. Someone Steve wants, desperately, but like most things in his life, knows he’s not allowed to have. Tony Stark is beyond him in so many ways. Reaching for him seems futile, so Steve stays on the ground, and looks. 

Tony fidgets nervously with a mini Phillips Head screwdriver, twiddling it in his long, clever fingers as he stares out the windows at the city sprawled out beneath them. 

“They’re from the same company as the guys in the convoy I was with when I—when they—” his voice sputters out before he can say the words. Steve doesn’t push. He doesn’t say anything. He just waits for Tony to gather himself. It’s one of the hardest lessons he’s had to learn about Tony Stark—sometimes it’s better to let him get a handle on himself, rather than jump in and try to handle Tony for him. It doesn’t change the fact that Steve wants nothing more than to hold his hand, now that it’s hanging at his side like its string was just cut. “A while back I dug into Air Force records, talked to Rhodey, got some names. Five people died in the hit that was meant for me. I figured, the least I could do was find five of their closest buddies who needed help.” 

Tony glances back at Steve—the little smile on his lips could break Steve’s heart if he let it.

“And I’ve heard you talk about how convoluted the VA is when it comes to services and benefits and whatnot. I figured, my tech probably took their limbs, I should cut out the middle man and give them new ones, myself.” 

Something in Steve’s heart shifts irrevocably before kicking into a whole new gear. By the end of the sentence, Steve knows he’s going to do something incredibly rash, the only question is when. 

Funny—ten minutes ago he was coming back from a team exercise, prepared to give Tony a friendly but firm talking-to about missing it, and instead here he is, breathless, heart racing, sitting and listening to Tony talk humbly about fixing people because he knows it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s the least he can do. And isn’t that the wildest understatement Steve’s ever heard? 

As if anything about Tony Stark could ever possibly be least. 

“You built them all those prosthetics?” 

“Top of the line!” Tony smirks, saluting Steve with his Phillips Head. “Nothing more high tech in any of them than a heart rate monitor and some other odds and ends—no rocket launcher eyes, don’t worry. I kept my baser urges in check with these.” 

“It’s good,” Steve blurts out, too loud and too fast. Tony inhales sharply, fingers clenching around the screwdriver hard enough his knuckles go white. Steve feels his face go hot and groans. “I mean, what you did—what you’re doing—is good, Tony. It’s really generous of you to do that for those guys.” 

Steve crosses his arms across his chest to make himself feel safer, more contained. If he doesn’t, who knows where these ridiculous feelings might go. He feels silly enough as it is, blushing and stammering while dressed in his uniform, sans helmet. Even Tony’s probably wondering why he’s wasting his time talking to a red-white-and-blue fossil when he could be downstairs destroying Clint and the others at pool or showing the airmen around the tower, giving them the bells-and-whistles tour. 

Tony looks at the floor, away from Steve. Steve feels it like a physical thing, Tony pulling away, retreating, wanting to hide. Amazing, how a man who almost literally wears his heart on his sleeve still thinks he doesn’t have one. 

“Yeah, well,” Tony mutters, “it’s good practice, anyways.” 

Steve’s thoughts grind to a halt. 

“Practice for what?” 

Tony starts moving around, shuffling back and forth across the living room floor, looking for something that probably isn’t there. Steve knows when Tony is avoiding eye contact with him—it happens often enough. 

“Just a pet project, nothing major. Hey, have you seen my cable knife anywhere?” 

“Did you leave it on the floor? Tony…”

“I know, I know, the only thing worse is Legos, but I was busy! You can’t blame me for—OW FUCK!” 

Like a shot, Steve is up and holding on to Tony so he doesn’t hop backwards into the glass coffee table. One arm wrapped around his back and the other hand on his bicep, Steve steadies Tony as Tony searches underfoot for whatever hurt him. 

He comes up with a magnet the size of a dime. 

“Ha,” Tony wheezes. “Speaking of Legos.” He drops it into his pocket along with the laser pointer and whatever else is in there and hangs his head. Rubbing his brow, Tony says: “God. I could sleep for a week after today.” 

Steve keeps holding Tony. He should let go, but opportunities like this so rarely present themselves. Plus, Tony feels so good under his hands, strong and warm and just small enough to envelope in a hug if Steve let himself, if Tony wanted him to, and Tony does look dead on his (adorable, bare) feet…

“What else have you been working on today? This pet project?” 

“Hah?” Tony breathes, still wincing slightly from stepping on the magnet. “Oh yeah. For Bucky, when you find him. Ow, motherfucker, that hurt…”

The thing about being in Tony Stark’s presence is, it’s so easy to lose the plot. Tony’s mind moves faster than Steve could ever hope to match, mentally or physically; he’s always one pace behind, catching up. It’s fine, though; he actually kind of likes it, being challenged the way Tony challenges him, delighting in the push-pull of their banter and debates, the way Tony teaches him about science and tech and the 21st century without being condescending. Steve gets to a point where he thinks he knows Tony, how he operates, how his brain works—then moments like this happen, and it’s like he’s sprinted smack into a brick wall. 

“What?” 

“What?” 

“Bucky, you said—are you designing a new arm? For Bucky?” 

Tony seems to notice their position at that exact moment. Steve feels him blaze with heat where his hands are touching Tony’s bare skin. 

“Uh. Maybe?” At Steve’s look, Tony bites his lip and sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I am. Can you blame me? The thought of Sputnik wandering around the tower with that Cold War-era paperweight hanging off him when I’ve got brand-spanking-new, finely-tuned StarkTech all but ready to go? Perish, Steve, perish the thought.”

Tony is smiling up at him from his place in Steve’s arms, relaxed now, almost leaning into him, and all Steve can think is, he belongs here. 

“What’s that face?” Tony asks, curious but still smiling. He pokes Steve in the middle of the forehead with a cheeky grin. “Keep frowning like that, your face’ll stick.”

When, apparently, is right now. 

When Steve reaches up and takes Tony’s hand, he gets to watch Tony’s thoughts run into the wall, for once. 

When he weaves their fingers together, he gets to watch Tony’s mouth click shut and his eyes go wide. Super-hearing means he can count the beats of Tony’s racing heart without having to feel them. Steve’s telegraphing every movement, every feeling, as much as he possibly can now that words seem to have escaped him. 

He must manage okay, because the look that passes over Tony’s face is the same one Steve’s seen in the mirror a thousand times since the day he realized he was halfway in love with Tony Stark: wonder, one part lost, one part found. 

When he leans down, slowly, Steve gets to watch Tony’s beautiful eyes flicker and shut. He counts the dark lashes where they rest on Tony’s high cheekbones, breathes in his smell and listens to the shudder in his exhale before drawing him in for a kiss that draws everything else to a quiet, blissful blank.

When Tony pushes his fingers up into Steve’s hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, Steve drops his arms around Tony’s waist and pulls him in close with a soft groan. He’s warm and messy and still holding that damn screwdriver, but he kisses Steve soft and eager like it’s the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life, folds himself into Steve’s embrace like he wants to build a home right there in his arms. 

One day Steve will tell him he already did, a long time ago, and it wasn’t the least of anything. 

*** 

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[moonbeambucky]

Winter WonderLance

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2354 Warnings: fluff

Summary: The Tuckers are in for a beautiful sight as they spend winter in the glistening snow of New York

“Bye bye Florida!” 

You waved your hands at the small window of the airplane as your children excitedly copied you.

Warm weather and palm trees would soon be traded for the bitter chill of barren, snow-covered branches that line the busy streets of New York. Ariel and Theodore were eager to go on their first airplane ride. Unfortunately, the real experience was less than exciting.

Despite pre-boarding bathroom visits Ariel needed to go again just as the plane was navigating towards the runaway. She bounced in her seat as you begged for her to hold it, hoping for a quick take off so you could fly towards the bathroom. 

It didn’t help that she insisted her mommy take her, despite your focus on attempting to try and calm a very upset Theo.

In all your travels you never gave much thought to parents flying with children. Noise blocking headphones were a lifesaver as you worked on your laptop, unaware of the frustration they were going through. 

“It’s okay Theo. Yawn, like this.”

You tried to show him how in an effort to help with the pressure in his ears but he wasn’t having it. Trying to reason with an agitated near-three year old was futile.

Over your shoulder you turned your head towards Lance, sitting in the aisle seat beside you. You couldn’t help the pout your lips formed, an expression of the mental exhaustion to come considering you had barely left Florida. 

Your hands swept across Theo’s hair as you tried to get him to lean into you but he was not having it, frustratedly kicking his legs against the back of the seat in front of him. You offered an apology to the young man that turned around glaring at your son, fighting back your urge to punch his childless self in the face. Now you had all the sympathy in the world for what parents go through.

When the plane had finally evened out its course you asked Lance to sit beside Theo as you took Ariel. 

“C’mere buddy.” Lance tried his best to hold a very fussy Theo against him and rocking to soothe the discomfort in his ears.

Obviously it didn’t work as you heard Theo’s cries from inside the cramped bathroom. 

Running your hands down your face you let out a frustrated sigh. In another week you would be returning home and you were already worrying about how Theo would handle the flight. But you know you shouldn’t be thinking about this. Your vacation has barely begun and you want to focus on all the fun the kids would be having instead. 

You hadn’t been back to New York in a few years. Amidst your previous travels you had dropped by once or twice but they were quick visits, to say hello to colleagues or sign new employment contracts. When you and Lance were deciding on where you should travel during the winter break you wanted to go all out and give the kids a new experience, and snow was certainly something new!

After washing your hands along with Ariel, you found your way back to your row, guided by the sound of Theo’s sobs. 

“I think he wants you,” Lance sighed, upset he hadn’t been able to make progress in calming Theodore.

“Daddy sit next to me!” Ariel exclaimed, bouncing as she squeezed past him to get to her seat by the window.

After a bit of musical chairs, with Lance now sitting in between you and Ariel, and Theo back in your arms, you sat up a little straighter, determined to at least stop Theo from crying. 

Lance’s attention was taken by Ariel who pulled out her bright LeapFrog learning tablet from your bag so they could read together. Sticking out from the corner of your bag was something you had forgotten about, the most beautiful sight that would help save you and Theo for the rest of the flight, goldfish crackers.

Asking Ariel to get them for you, Lance opened the package and suddenly a tiny smile pulled at the corner of Theo’s mouth as you offered one to him. Whether it was the crunching that helped or Theo was distracted by food you really didn’t care but thankfully the crying stopped.

Finally, Theo was calm as he picked goldfish out of your palm. With Lance’s assistance you were able to find a movie for Theo to watch, an animated one you could recite by heart thanks to the amount of times the kids have watched it. 

The rest of the ride went mostly smooth until it was time to prepare for landing. Ariel whined, wanting her dad to still sit next to her. Theo whined when you put him back in his seat, wanting to stay on your lap, and you and Lance smiled exhaustedly, holding back your own whines because you really want to take a nap. 

Juggling two young children was a hassle, especially trying to keep their hats and scarves bundled on, and making sure Ariel didn’t forget Teddy in the taxi because she insisted on bringing him along. 

“Teddy will be sad if we left him home alone.” You tried to reason that Teddy needed to stay home so he could watch the house while you were gone. “But that’s Oinky’s job.” Oh, of course, your mistake. 

By the time you reached your hotel you got your wish. Theo went down easy after the cry he had and Ariel tried to fight the way her lids were shutting; for your own sake you were happy she lost. 

Nuzzled against Lance’s chest, you felt his lips against your forehead before you fell asleep, waking up reenergizing to really begin your vacation. 

“Mmmm how I missed you,” you purred sensually, gently caressing the thing you longed for the most in your hand, opening your mouth with wanton need.

Lance chuckled, shaking his head. “Mommy’s silly, right?” he said to Ariel and Theo as you bit into your slice of pizza.

Maybe your kids can’t appreciate just how delicious New York pizza is compared to what’s available at home but you can and will, savoring every bite as if it was the last time you would taste the magical combination of cheese, sauce and dough.

Your phone buzzed on the table and quickly moving your half chewed food to the other side of your mouth you answered the call. 

“Hi! Yes. Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

Your boss Sue was stopping by, coming from the ESPN offices a few blocks away. She wanted to say hello while you were in town and meet the kids for the first time as she had only seen them in the pictures you’ve sent. Despite loving your job you were not going to parade the kids and Lance around the office in front of eager reporters hungry for any story. 

A tingle of bad memories ran down your spine but you quickly brushed it off, focusing instead on the happily smiles surrounding you.

“Daddy, ca’ I have a napkin?” Theo asked, placing the large slice down on his plate.

While watching the meticulous way his little hands worked to clean off sauce you heard an enthusiastic voice call your name out. Standing up, you turned to face Sue, wrapping your arms around the heavy coat that seemed to swallow her up. 

Lance greeted her as well, pulling up a chair at the end of the booth for her to join. 

Sue placed her hands against her cheeks as she smiled at your children. “Look at how big they’ve gotten!”

“Ariel, Theodore, this is my friend Susan. Do you want to say hi?”

“Hi!” Theo said with a mouthful of food. Ariel’s greeting was a bit softer as she nuzzled against her Dad feeling a little shy.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, shrugging off her coat. She wasn’t going to stay long but the heavy material was too much to bear indoors.

With some coaxing from you and Lance, Ariel opened up a bit as she and Theo told Sue all the things they’ve done so far on their vacation.

“And we saw a big tree!” Ariel stretched her arms high above her head. “It had pretty lights and a really pretty star.”

“And it was bigger than the whole world!” Theo exclaimed.

Sue’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way! Bigger than the whole world!?” Theo nodded as he used both hands to grab his drink.

“What was your favorite thing you’ve seen so far?” Sue asked.

“Ummm, I liked the carousel!” Ariel beamed. The SeaGlass carousel in Battery Park was a favorite of yours as well.

“And who did we wave to that was near the carousel?” Lance asked, testing his children’s memory. 

Ariel concentrated as she thought and Theo honestly didn’t bother to think but you snuck him the answer anyway.

“Sta-choot of Liberty!” he giggled.

You and Lance also took the kids to a children’s museum, to the top of the Empire State Building and tonight you were surprising them with tickets to see The Lion King on Broadway.

After saying goodbye to Sue and finishing lunch, you stopped in at FAO Schwarz. The kids were mesmerized by the toy store and the giant plush animals that surrounded them but secretly Lance had been dying to visit so he could play on the giant floor piano from Big.

It wasn’t much of a secret, not by the way he practically ran towards the line that was formed beside it. Twenty long minutes were spent waiting and during that time you had to convince Lance that he needed to share the piano with Ariel and Theo.

Your phone recorded every moment of giggling joy as Lance bounced on the keys that lit with bright colors as he played “Chopsticks” accompanied by random musical notes as Ariel and Theo ran across the piano.

“You were amazing!” you said, planting a kiss on Ariel and Theo’s cheeks as you and Lance helped them back into their winter coats. “And you were adorable,” you cooed, pressing a sweet kiss on Lance’s lips, feeling him smile against you.

Central Park was covered in a blanket of white, a crystalline landscape of snow that glittered in the sunlight.

It was the day before you had to leave and you wanted to make the most of the freshly fallen weather. Bundled in layers, wrapped with scarves and thick gloves, you ventured out to play in the winter wonderland. 

“Let’s make a snowman!” Ariel declared.

You helped her gather the soft powder snow in a ball, rolling it along the unblemished landscape for it to grow larger. Lance and Theo were doing the same, sort of. 

Theo scooped up as much snow as his gloves could carry and he dropped them down onto the base Lance was attempting to form. Theo smiled as the soft flurries sprinkled to the ground. Lance crouched down, trying to show him a better way to do it as he attempted to pack more snow into the pile but Theo didn’t care.

“No, it’s this way,” he insisted, looking for the perfect patch of snow to scoop up and bring over.

His excitement may have gotten the best of him as Theo threw the snow down haphazardly, getting more than half on his dad. Lance wiped the wetness of his face against the sleeve of his coat. Another shock of cold came as Theo did it again happily “building” his snowman.

“Daddy look how big we made it!” Ariel huffed as the both of you rolled the large ball of snow back towards Lance and Theo.

“Wow Starfish that’s grea– ” Lance muffled his words as Theo excitedly threw down another pile of snow, doing so once again with terrible aim.

“Theo! Did you just throw snow at your daddy?” 

He froze, cautiously shaking his head back and forth in case you were upset. 

“C’mere Pumpkin,” you called to him.

You scooped up a small handful of snow, pressing it together into a ball and placing it in Theo’s palm. Quickly you scooped another ball for yourself. 

“This is how you throw a snowball.”

Winding your arm back, you aimed and threw the ball hitting Lance in the back as he was working on the snowman. 

“Hey!” he yelped in surprise. 

Theo threw his that hit Lance’s leg. Ariel abandoned her snowman in favor of joining the snowball fight. 

“Three against one isn’t fair!” he shouted, trying to dodge the attack.

Lance retaliated, mainly aiming for you as you laughed, running around with Ariel and Theo beside you. His cheeks were bright red as he chased you, blowing visible breaths while playfully yelling, “I’m gonna get you!”

Taking cover behind a tree you quickly bent down to make snowballs for Theo as Ariel made her own, slowly creeping around the tree to throw them at Lance but he wasn’t there. Then you felt it; the close range hit of a snowball on your backside.

The shock made you scream, and a few more rapid fire hits had you stumbling. Reaching your arm back to rub your icy buns you called for a truce and Lance dropped his frozen ammo. Ariel and Theo threw their remaining snowballs at their dad, ignoring the armistice. 

“Ow!” you laughed, still rubbing your backside. Lance offered a hand for you to stand up. “I’m definitely going to have a bruise thanks to you.”

“I’ll be happy to kiss it better,” he smirked. “Now, who wants to make snow angels?!”

“Me! Me! Me!” came the chorus of excited squeals. 

The rest of the day was spent inside the hotel, warm and snuggled together while watching movies and having hot chocolate with marshmallows. With Ariel and Theo asleep at your sides Lance leaned down to caress your lips with his in a languid articulation of love.

When he pulled away he smiled, a soft mirror of your own expression. It’s an appreciation for all the memories you’ve made on this trip that now share space in your heart with every moment of your lives together.

[ddaengyoonmin]

Part one

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: y/n does a big fan No-no (please never invade BTS’s personal space 😒) ; swearing ; (that’s all for this chapter)

Genre: idol!au, witches/wizards!au, royalty!au, (slightly one sided?soulmate!au...that’s all I can say without spoiling later chapters) Fluff, Angst, future smut.

Summary: Jimin has waited quite a lifetime to find his soulmate. He didn’t expect to find her at one of her concerts, and certainly didn’t expect her to be such a big Jungkook fan.

(Thank you @heyitsayjayy for being such an amazing beta reader and friend 😭❤️ also another big thank you to @heyitsayjayy and @kingsuckjin for helping me brainstorm ideas for this)

—————————————

These tickets had been a bitch to get.  You booked them the first day they went on sale, and even then were still nervous they’d be sold out by the time you got to the confirmation page.  

BTS performing in your city wasn’t something you’d ever expected and you jumped at the chance to see them the moment you could. 

You felt giddy excitement as you put on your Kookie headband. Smoothing out the wrinkles on your matching Kookie T-shirt.  The day was finally here.  Your best friend was dressed up in what seemed like every single piece of Koya attire that she owned.  

“When I went to Seoul for their concert last year Namjoon blew a kiss my way!” She jumped up and down holding her heart at the memory. 

“I’m sure he did A” You chuckled, rolling your eyes at how she’d think that was the case in a crowd of thousands.

-------------- 

Once you got to the stadium and settled in your seats you felt the anticipation start to grow even more.  All the other fans held army bombs similar to the one gripped in your own hand, and were settling down while talking about their bias and which song they were most excited for. 

Falling in suit A turns to you and asks, “So which song are you looking forward to the most?” clapping her hands together. 

“Ummm... Probably Baepsae?” You shrugged.  

“Of course you’d say that you hoe” she laughs with a wide grin, nudging your side with her elbow. 

“What can I say.  That dance gets me going.” you wink returning her smile. 

“I thought you’d say Euphoria though” she admitted while taking off her yellow jean jacket and placing it on the back of the seat. 

Yes, that probably was the other one you were looking forward to the most.  Jungkook had been your bias since day one and you’d never been swayed.  You did love all the members in the group, but Jungkook...everything about him screamed out to you in a way none of the others did. Almost every army could relate that they felt the same with a certain member. 

A’s was obviously Namjoon, though she’d switched last year from being a Taehyung bias, she’d always tell you that she’s loyal to Namjoon to the end.  

The lights dimmed and your stomach dropped.  This is it, the moment you've been waiting for. You heard the first chord of Dionysus and fell into a trance watching BTS perform.  Their dance moves were all on point, and their energy was like nothing you’d ever seen.  You were sure this is how every concert must feel, but being there in person was a whole different experience than watching it from your tablet screen.  You could feel the bass beat in sync with your heart as your favorite KPOP idols transitioned from song to song. 

The group took a short intermission to spend time talking to the fans and thanking everyone for being at the concert.

Your friend A turned to you and motioned for you to move close to her. 

“I have a dare for you,” She smirked. 

It was a typical  ‘A’ move to dare you to do crazy tasks. She was known for doing  this with a lot of people.  Her family was loaded with cash, and it was a hobby of hers to use it to make her friends do things that they might not normally do without the incentive of a bigger wallet.  You in particular took her up on this the most being the least well off of your friend group.  You had gotten your bills paid off  a few times due to moments like this. 

In fact, it was how you were able to afford these concert tickets. 

“Ahhh what now A?” you shook your head, preparing yourself for whatever strange task she’d come up with for you to do this time. 

“So.” she started, then turned to make sure you were watching her.  “I put your name and phone number on this piece of paper.  I dare you to go sneak into the dressing room and leave this for Jungkook.” 

Your jaw dropped open so wide you thought it’d hit the floor. 

“A!! I’ll get kicked out of the concert, maybe even arrested.  I’m not a sasaeng!!” You screeched at her a little too loud.  Luckily it was drowned out by cheering fans surrounding you.

“Would you for this much?” She flashed two big bills in front of your face.  

You pondered for a moment and then shook your head “A. No. I can’t do this one” 

“Hmmm” she gave another smirk while pulling out more from her purse.  “For this much, and I bail you out of jail if you get arrested?” now six big bills were being waved in front of you.  

That was almost two whole months rent...No matter how scared you were of getting caught you knew you’d regret passing it up.

“Now?” You grumbled snatching the paper out of her hand.  

“As soon as they start the next group song!” 

“Aw, A.  I don’t wanna miss anything though...” you sighed. 

“Deals a deal!” She said waving the money around. 

You playfully punched her in the shoulder and shook your head. 

When the group came out to perform Anpanman you slid from your seat and started to make your way around the area you’d scoped out that would most likely lead back to the dressing rooms. 

Most all of the security was focused just on BTS performing, getting absorbed in the fun they were having bouncing on all of the inflatable slides and bouncy castles filling up the stage. 

You found a moment where no eyes were your way and quickly slipped past.  

Your heart was beating so quickly in fear of getting caught, you felt your palms sweating around the note you were clutching.  You speed walked down hallways looking for the dressing room.  A lucky guess led to the first door you opened being the right one.  A large white door with the members names on it may have been a big help with your luck...  

You quickly shut the door behind you and took a deep breath. 

“I can't believe I’m doing this” you whispered to yourself as you searched for a place to set the note for Jungkook.  

You recognized a light pink jacket that he had just worn earlier on stage hanging on a rack and started to push the other members clothing out of the way to get you better access to slip the note in his pocket.  Pulling out your phone to snap a picture for proof.  A always asked for proof or no money. 

“Who let you in here!”  A stern and surprised voice yelled out from behind you. 

You felt your heart freeze up and your breath hitched in your throat.  You knew that voice.  It was your favorite voice.  Why did you do this?!  You felt your face growing hot with embarrassment as you turned around and tried to explain yourself. 

Jungkook was glaring at you with the coldest gaze you’d ever seen from him.  His fists were balled up and he was shaking his head ever so slightly.  His long dark hair that fell into his eyes along with the white t-shirt he was wearing was sweaty and wet, he’d obviously just given it his all even just running around having fun on stage. 

“You have some nerve” He growled out and stomped over to you, grabbing your upper arm harshley. 

“J-Jungkook, oh my god.  It was a dare I’m so sor-” You whimpered out, but he cut you off before you could finish your apology. 

“God damn security can’t keep out sasaengs like you for shit.  You’re the lowest scum ever you know that?” He stopped and his dark eyes seemed to bore into your soul.  He grabbed your hand that had the note clenched tightly in your fingers and pried it open, ripping the paper from your grasp and waving it in front of your face.  “You really think I’d ever go out with you? Especially when you invaded our privacy like this.  How delusional can you be!” He shouted.  

You felt tears start to well up in your eyes and your body was shaking.  This was not worth A’s money.  Your heart was breaking at Jungkook’s harsh words.  The voice that you listened to to feel safe and whole on your bad nights was insulting you, and he was right.  What you’d just done was crossing a line you knew you shouldn't have.  You were embarrassed and ashamed. 

“Jungkook what's going on?” Namjoon’s voice sounded out from the doorway, he stood tall next to Jin and another member you couldn’t see was standing behind the two of them. 

You took that moment to quickly push past Namjoon and run out of the room, your tears causing your vision to be so blurry that you tripped and fell on the cold black linoleum of the hallway.  

With your palms now stinging you hurried to push yourself up and run away before any of the other men you idolized and looked up to could add to the embarrassment you were feeling. 

“WAIT!” a voice yelled out.  It sounded like Jimin.  You didn’t wait, you ran as fast as you could out of the backstage area, and then out of the stadium.  

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

Jimin couldn’t believe what he had seen.  He was half convinced it was just a dream.  If it was, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamed of meeting her.  His soulmate, the one who he would pledge his life to. To live for, die for, kill for.  He’d been told by Jin that It’d hit like an electric shock to the chest, then it would fade into the most pleasant feeling he’d ever feel in his life, there’d be no missing it or mistaking it.  

When he saw you stumbling out of the dressing room the feeling hit him just like that.  Electricity, and then a warm rush of emotion like nothing he’d ever felt.  It felt like you’d just washed away every bad emotion he’d ever felt in his life just by being there, by existing.  

You had just fallen and gotten up, now you were running away and sobbing loudly.  The pleasant feeling faded and instead he felt his heart breaking, a heavy pressure on his chest like he was being crushed. 

“WAIT!” He screamed after you, wanting you to turn around and run to his arms.  He wanted to hold you close and tightly, he wanted to make you feel better, wipe away your tears and tell you everything would be okay.  Because he was here now for you. 

But it was too late, you were already around the corner. 

Jimin stood in shock and the other members looked at him with perplexed expressions. 

“What the hell was that?” Taehyung who had just walked up asked to the group as they walked in.  Namjoon ushered the silent and stiff Jimin over to the couch and put a hand on either side of his shoulders as he sat him down.  He kneeled to eye level with him and the rest of the members flocked over, looking concerned. 

“Jimin-ah?” Yoongi worriedly choked out, he went sat on one side of Jimin and wrapped an arm around him pulling his head into his chest.  

“Hey what's wrong?” He started to run his fingers through Jimin’s hair. 

“I’m going to go get him water!” Hoseok announced, his feet quickly carrying him over to the mini fridge in the corner of the room.

“I-It’s that girl” Jimin stuttered out. 

Jungkook instantly tensed up. 

“Had you seen her before? Had she been following you?” His lips pursed angrily, “You have to tell us those things! Especially me!” 

Jimin’s plump lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Hey hey,” Jungkook crouched down, Namjoon moved out of the way so Jungkook could meet Jimin’s eyes. “I’m not yelling at you.  I’m not mad at you.  It’s my job to keep you safe, always.” He spoke softly brining a hand to brush across Jimin’s cheek. 

“It’s not that,” he sighed. “It was her.  She’s her,” 

All the eyes in the room squinted almost at the same time, confused and worried. 

“You don’t mean she’s your…” Jin spoke slowly. 

“That's exactly what I mean! And she's gone! I lost her,” Jimin snapped, sitting up and away from Yoongi. 

The men all started muttering to each other, trying to figure out how to deal with this situation. 

“She was breaking in here to leave me her number.  How could that be her?” Jungkook spat out shaking his head quickly. 

“That's what she was doing?” Jimin's eyes widened and he felt a slight sting in his eyes start to bring on tears at that thought.  She was wearing a Kookie headband and shirt…

Could his soulmate really be a sasaeng obsessed with Jungkook? No.  It couldn’t be.  There must be an explanation. 

“I don’t care.” Jimin spoke in a pout.  “Its her.  And I’ve lost her.” 

Jungkook sighed and fidgeted with the note he’d taken off of you that was in his pocket, debating on whether or not he should let Jimin know. 

“We’ll find her,” Jin spoke assuringly.  “Right?” he turned to all the other men. 

“If we don’t... all of this was for nothing I suppose, so yeah.  Of course” Namjoon nodded. 

Yoongi pulled Jimin back into a tight hug and kissed the top of his head.  “She’s out there somewhere, and you know that now.  You’re closer than you’ve ever been.  It’s not the end.  Keep hope alive.” he smiled as he nuzzled his head against Jimin. 

“I…” Jungkook finally spoke up. “I think I might have a way to find her.” he sighed, still not sure if he was doing the right thing by letting the group in on the information he’d acquired. 

“What?” Jimin was quickly on his feet and standing over Jungkook who stood and pulled the note out of his pocket. 

“It’s her number...she was leaving it for me and I grabbed it from her.” he admitted. 

Jimin couldn’t deny that a strong pang of jealousy ran over him, yet he was willing to ignore it in the face of such wonderful news. 

He grabbed the note from Jungkook, turning the note over in his fingers with a bright smile on his face. 

“I could kiss you!” Jimin shouted out joyfully. 

“Save it for her,” Jungkook muttered running a hand through his hair. 

Jimin hummed in agreement and pulled out his phone to put your number in. 

“Woah hold up there!” Namjoon put his hand over Jimin's phone.  “Do you think it’s best to contact her right away? Shouldn’t you think this over first? Like how you are going to tell her, how much you want her to know…” 

Jimin pulled his phone away from Namjoon. 

“I appreciate the advice, advisor. But this is my soulmate.  I think I know what's best.” he said matter-of-factly. 

Namjoon sighed, “It's no use with you” he let out a chuckle. 

“I agree though Jimin, maybe you should take a second to-” Taehyung started. 

“Sent!” Jimin spoke cheerfully. 

A few groans sounded out among the group.  

“He never listens to us,” Hoseok shook his head, handing Jimin the water bottle he’d been holding for him. “Drink up my prince.  This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, for over 1000 years.  Savor it.”

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

‘your tie is crooked.’ - starker wedding, maybe?

The One I’ve Been Dreaming Of 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~5K  Notes: I kind of gave you a wedding! Maybe I’ll write a second part to this, who knows. Thanks for the prompt, nonnie! Warnings: it’s very soft, watch your step.  Summary: 

Peter Parker meets Tony Stark when he manages to snag a booth spot at the notorious Stark Expo. Cuteness ensues.

do the thing, send in all the prompts 

During his sophomore year of college, Peter Parker met Tony Stark. He’d been working day and night for the entire semester to get his biodegradable fluid turned containers done in time to get them into the Stark Expo – Peter managed to barely sneak in, but he did it. In all of his years being in New York, Peter had only heard stories about the big collection of incredible inventions and technological advances, and he couldn’t wait to be a part of it.

So nervous leading up to the day, Peter didn’t secure any tickets for any of his friends or May – they all looked at him like he stabbed them in the back, so he went about trying to fix the problem. The ability to flash his badge at the door and get immediate entry into the expo hall made his heart race. It still blew his mind, the fact that he managed to create something good enough to snag booth space in one of the greatest tech expos in the entire world.

In all of his star struck glory, Peter lost track of where he was – his wandering eyes and overactive mind couldn’t focus on just one thing. The booths were pretty much ready for the opening the next day, so he looked his fill with no one around to watch him – or so he thought, at least.

“You know, the expo doesn’t start until tomorrow,” Peter heard from behind him. Turning quickly, Peter couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped. Tony Stark stood there in the flesh, his hands stuffed into well cut suit pants. His deep brown eyes were taking him in, a definitive curiosity settling within them.

Shaking himself, Peter shifted on his feet, his fingers fiddling with the ID badge around his neck. “Mr Stark, I –“

Tony spoke up suddenly, his voice on the right side of demanding. “Tony, please. None of that Mr. Stark bull shit,” Tony said, one of his hands coming out of his pocket to gesture in front of him. Peter watched the movement with wide eyes, his lips turning up in an amused grin.

“Tony, then. I’m Peter Parker, sir. I came in hopes of securing a few guest passes for a few of my adoring fans – this is the first time any of us have gotten this close to something so cool, everyone is pretty excited.” Peter found himself wondering why in the world he let all of that come out of his mouth, but it was out there now. It’d been a long time since word vomit came around and kick him in the face. Clenching his jaw, Peter fiddled with the badge a little more – idle hands were the bane of his existence.

“Oh, you brought in that biodegradable fluid that has bunch of purposes, right? Pepper showed me that one specifically a few days ago,” Tony admitted, his posture relaxing now that they seemed to be in more familiar territory. “What booth number are you? I want to stop by and hear the whole spiel.”

Taken aback, Peter caught himself smiling, his neck tingling from the praise he received from someone who didn’t know him from Adam. “Really? I mean – I’m in the C section at booth 109. The holoscreens you’re letting us use made putting my presentation together a total blast.” Peter didn’t mean to gush, but he spent so much time uploading his blueprints and making them presentable on the multi-dimensional tablets. Tony Stark was an absolute genius and Peter was not afraid to marvel in his presence.

“I’d be honored if you came and listened, Tony,” Peter added after a moment of silence between them. He felt a rush of heat move across his face and down his neck – the words were some of the boldest he’d ever let pass across his lips.

For the first time since stumbling upon the man, Peter recognized the look that passed across his face – Tony Stark blew up magazine covers with the most divine shit eating grin; having it projected at him seemed like a bit too much. Sucking in a breath, Peter passed the toe of his shoe across the floor, his entire body on fire from the intensity of the look.

“Count me in, Peter Parker. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony shot him a wink and kept heading down the row and back towards the exit. Peter had to stand around for a couple of minutes before he could force his legs to move. He wasn’t sure what made him feel more winded, the fact that he ran into Tony Stark, or the fact that the gorgeous genius promised to stop by his booth. Either way, Peter knew he needed to make sure his presentation was spot on – so he headed back to his dorm room, determination fueling him.

It didn’t cross his mind that he forgot the guest passes until he was standing in line with Ned, MJ, and May the next day – the three of them buzzing with excitement. He spent the entire time they waited trying to figure out a way to get them in without causing a commotion – it seemed a little bit too late to tell them he’d been irresponsible because a gorgeous man stood 20 feet away from him and smiled so nicely.

Getting to the door, Peter gave the man at the door his name and flashed him his badge – he felt the tension of trying to come up with a lie in his jaw, his teeth grinding slightly. After a few seconds of looking at the list, the security guard shuffled through a couple of white envelopes and handed one that said P. Parker to Peter. Inside were 5 guests passes and a note.

Thought you might need these. See you later.

TS

Peter let out a huge sigh of relief and chalked the racing of his heart up to the endorphins rushing through him – it totally wasn’t the care in which Tony took to get him something he mentioned in passing – not that at all.

He quickly pulled three of the passes out, giving one to each of the people surrounding him. Walking forward to get them out of the line, Peter stopped everyone before they entered the big expo center. “Those will get you into everything except the backstage stuff. Have fun – but don’t forget to come watch me give my presentation at 2:30. Familiar faces in the crowd would be very much appreciated.” 

MJ and Ned scattered quickly, the two of them looking at the badges around their neck the same way Peter did his the first time he saw it. Before leaving herself, May pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re going to kill it. Just let that nerdy little brain go and everything will be perfect.” She gave his arm a soft punch, then turned on her toes and headed through the door into the lively expo center, leaving him to it.

Walking in, Peter was totally astounded by the difference a few hours made – the lights were bright and people were pressed into the space ass to elbows. Suddenly glad he got to see some of the stuff while it was still calm, Peter tucked his head down and headed towards his booth. He wasn’t the only person that wasn’t totally up and running yet, but he hurried, anyway. The mass of people moving up and down the line of booths were people he could convince and impress – the quicker that happened for him, the better off he was.

It took him a couple of people to really warm up to the bouncing around the booth thing. Many people asked the same question, so he came up with a little rhetoric that would cover all of the basic things. There were only a few people that were genuinely interested – Peter spent a lot of extra time and energy talking with those people. It was exhausting, trying to stretch his brain in so many different directions.

Thankfully, Peter got to take a 20-minute break before his presentation – he capitalized on it by sucking down a Dr. Pepper and stuffing two Snickers bars into his mouth. The rush of sugar hitting him peaked right around the time he flicked his fingers across the front of the holoscreen to wake it up.

Before he started to talk, Peter felt a familiar stare on him – he looked up to find Tony Stark inconspicuously standing amongst the crowd. Tony threw Peter that same wink from the day before and nodded his head. To say he wasn’t waiting to see if Tony would actually show up would be a total lie. 

The drumming of his heart against his ribcage slowed down, but only just slightly. A whole new set of nerves were trying to make their way to the forefront – having Tony Stark listen to something he spent so much time and energy on seemed like a pretty huge deal.

By the time Peter really got going, though, he totally forgot about the fact that there was a crowd around him – he simply talked about the science he’d been working on for a long time. He knew everything about the fluid he randomly stumbled upon during AP Organic Chemistry his senior year. Talking about it was easy and the more that came out of his mouth, the more natural it all became.

Wrapping up, Peter finally tore his eyes way from the incredible piece of technology housing his life’s work and locked eyes with Tony once again. This time, he grinned widely – the stealthily charming way his face changed from one emotion to the other practically kicking Peter right in the teeth. It took a second for him to catch his breath – human people shouldn’t be allowed to look that good.

The act of shaking everyone’s hand took up his attention almost immediately after breaking eye contact with Tony – he was swarmed by people dropping names and credentials like it meant anything to him. Peter simply gripped their hands, tried to pay attention as much as possible, and took the business card he was given. Though he knew he’d never use any of them, the thought of people being interested in his creation was a rather nice one.

May, MJ, and Ned all pulled him into a hug when they eventually made their way to the front of his booth. Over the past couple of years, Peter used the three of them as a sounding board every time he got stuck, or just needed to run through his findings again. 

None of them needed to hear his presentation – they lived through it. Regardless, he was happy to have the support; even if their presence was entirely because of the man who’d been hanging back, obviously waiting for a free second to approach him.

Finally, after what felt like way too long, Tony Stark was standing in front of him. It took Peter a few seconds to collect himself enough to actually get words out of his mouth. “Thanks for coming,” Peter decided on, slipping a hand into the space between them.

Tony took it without hesitation – his fingers were warm and covered in callouses, the fact that he did his own work apparent in the well-worn nature of his palms and fingertips. More than beauty, then.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. You’ve got something interesting on your hands, Pete. With a little bit more funding and some better equipment – you could really have something.” Tony only dropped his hand then, Peter’s skin on fire from the tight grip and intense ‘zing’ that shot through him. Despite being covered by purple glasses, Tony’s eyes were recognizably watching him, the depth of their brown only enhanced by the darkness of the lens.

Peter let the words sink in now that the distracting touch wasn’t pumping liquid fire through his veins. Tony Stark, greatest brain in the world, thought he had something. What could that possibly mean? Peter knew the direction he wanted to take the biodegradable fluid, but also wanted to be the one to take it there. Whatever it was – the simplistic idea that Tony thought it was good seemed like more than enough.

“Probably the coolest thing I’ve ever heard,” Peter babbled, a hot blush slipped across his cheeks as he spoke, but he couldn’t even help it – this entire interaction seemed like a dream.

A deep laugh settled in the space between them, Peter reddening further when he realized just how nice the sound actually was. It pulled a bubble of excitement and laughter from Peter’s chest, too – the collection of sound immediately absorbed in all the madness surrounding them. He tried not to smile too widely – the last thing Tony Stark needed was another person gushing over him.

Which made the next thing to come out of Tony’s mouth a total surprise. “I’d love to hear more about it. And you, honestly. Any big plans after the expo hall closes tonight? Or could I possibly steal you away for dinner?”

Eyes bugging widely, Peter looked at him incredulously. When Tony didn’t put his hands up in jest, Peter let a huge smile spread across his face. The answering one from Tony himself was even better. Sucking in a breath, Peter didn’t spend another second hesitating. “No – no big plans. I would love to be stolen away for dinner.”

Thinking quickly, Peter took a pen from the table next to him and pulled Tony’s hand to him. Tony stared at him for a second, then spread his finger, turning his palm up – what Peter was about to do becoming apparent. “I’ll be here until 8. Let me know where to meet you.” He wrote his number carefully, leaving no room for confusion.

The smile they shared made Peter’s heart beat a little faster. Tony’s face was split wide by the smile, his cheeks crinkling at the corners from the force of it. His eyes got a little squinty, like he was staring at something bright instead of Peter himself. It felt like a long time before either of them moved a muscle – Tony finally stepped away, the hand with Peter’s number waving back at him as he retreated.

A few minutes later, Peter’s text message notification went off. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Peter found himself beaming.

Maybe – Tony Stark: Meet you at your booth when you’re done. Maybe – Tony Stark: Looking forward to it.

Quickly adding his contact, Peter glanced up at the time and let out a long breath – he still had 5 hours to get through.

----

After street tacos from a food truck a little outside the Brooklyn area code, Peter had a hard time not falling heels over head in love with Tony. The recognizable nerves in Tony’s eyes when he pulled his fancy car up to the slightly sketchy looking eatery made Peter laugh – he reached over and grabbed Tony’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “This is perfect.” Peter reassured, his stomach grumbling in agreeance. “How’s their barbacoa?”

From there, things took off without much of a hitch. It took Peter a while to get used to the fact that every single one of his moves with Tony was highly publicized – the idea of being famous was not one he ever played around with before. There were a few moments of doubt that put a bit of separation between them, but even then, Peter was unable to stay away. Tony’s patience and the respect he gave to Peter’s feelings spoke much louder than the clicks of paparazzi cameras.

The minute Peter finally gave himself to all that surrounded Tony, things between them got so much better. Tony took him in and showed him so many things about life that Peter couldn’t have possibly imagined. They shared the lab where Peter had access to everything he could’ve possibly needed to transform and adapt his biodegradable fluid. And when he was stuck or at the end point of one of his experiments, Tony would gesture him over and catch him up on whatever he’d been working on.

They did lots of things outside of the lab, too. In the many moments they spent together, Peter got to see a side of Tony that no one else did. He’d been around Tony and Pepper together and Tony and Happy to know that he kept walls up the entire time. Regardless of the fact that those two people were some of his oldest and closest friends, they weren’t privy to the final and most essential piece of Tony – the enormous heart that resided in the darkest confines of his chest.

During the still times with the older man, Peter learned that he snuffled in his sleep and when he was really tired, he’d talk about the experiment on his mind or recite words in Italian. Every now and again, Peter was conscious enough to put the word in his notes to be looked up later. Tony liked to be held when nightmares caught up to him and played the big spoon all other times – which was fine, Peter was not opposed to being held tightly against the warmest chest he’d ever encountered.

Physicality wasn’t instantaneous between them, either. Peter had to admit that he appreciated the restraint – getting to know Tony without putting the barrier of raging hormones between them to begin with made it even better when it did eventually happen.

In his teenage years, Peter was always embarrassed to admit that he kept his virginity – it seemed like a turnoff to the more mature people he always wanted to attract. Handing it over to Tony, however, felt like passing off something special – his boyfriend approached the situation with knowledge and care; Peter didn’t think many people could say their first time was THAT good.

Once Peter got the itch for pleasures of the flesh, they were all over each other. The 6 months it took for them to actually come together in that way was cherished – Peter got to know the little things before his brain became a beacon for insatiable want and desire. The way Tony made him feel was a welcome distraction and the final straw that broke into pieces to open up the dam of feelings he’d been doing his best to keep in check.

Tony took him out to celebrate finishing the semester about a year into their relationship – Peter only had one more year left and couldn’t wait to be done. A part of him wanted to take the many job offers Tony whispered in his ear when he amazed him in the lab, or when they discussed the homework that got progressively harder the further into his degree that he got. The part that always won out wanted to be absolutely prepared for it, though, and knew he wouldn’t be until he at least had a platform to stand on.

For once, Peter let Tony take him to a fancy place – he aced all 21 hours he took that semester, so it only seemed appropriate. In New York’s finest Italian establishment, Tony got them a private table in a fancy room attached to the main dining area. The table looked tiny compared to the empty space around them. The hostess left them with a nod – there wouldn’t be any menus that night, they were in for whatever the chef’s special was.

The conversation was easy, Peter listened to Tony recall a disgruntlement between Pepper and Happy, his cheeks alive with the smile that slipped across his face. Comfortability looked good so good on him. Reaching across the table, Peter grabbed Tony’s hand, a look of adoration slipping across his face. Tony quirked his head, a question in his gaze. “What?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders, his grip on Tony’s hand tightening a little. “Nothing. How good you look just caught me off guard.” His voice was level, the words obviously genuine.

Soft lips on his hand sent a shiver down the length of his spine. Peter shook his head, a nervous laugh escaping him. “That’s so cheesy.” Tony said as he pulled away, his smiling growing. “I could say the same for you, though. Your excitement is written all over you.”

“Good – I’m happy. Finding success and being in love agrees with me.” Peter held his breath, mentioning love hadn’t been the plan, but it couldn’t seem to be helped. The red wine they were sipping on loosened his lips and the openness of his heart made it that much easier. He didn’t have any intention of going anywhere. The feeling was only going to get more intense – the depth of it different with each passing minute. Why not admit it? 

“It does – there are times when it’s devastating, how beautiful you truly are lit up like this,” Tony replied softly. It pulled the breath from his lungs, how earnestly Tony said those words. He pulled off his glasses for the first time all evening, the molten brown of his eyes shining. “I love you, Pete. I’m in love with you. In that weirdly desperate sort of way. Have been for a while, too. A long while.” Tony disguised the vulnerability of his words with a chuckle, his hand tightening within Peter’s grip.

Grinning widely, Peter started to babble – “Same. Me too – I mean, I love you, too. So much. It’s insane, being with you – but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And there wasn’t – no matter how much MJ and Ned fought against the age gap between them. To Peter, age was just a number and there wasn’t anything that was going to convince him otherwise. Tony kept up with him and when he couldn’t, he stood back and let Peter do his thing – no matter what age, doing something like that was hard for any person. Despite the labels that floated around Tony’s head, Peter knew better and understood Tony’s tendencies and attitudes. There were certain things that would always protect a person – and Tony chose walls to build as his.

Taking the time to look behind them was a challenge that Peter was more than willing to take on – the things he discovered when doing so were more than worth it.

When the moment he’d been hoping for since they met came, Peter said yes without hesitation. It wasn’t grand or out in the open, the way Tony asked him to be his husband. They were sitting out on the balcony after a last-ditch effort meal they threw together with the remaining goods in the refrigerator, clearing space for the food delivery set to come the next day. Tony poured them an aged scotch and they curled up in the swinging seat they built themselves.

Peter leaned into the weight of Tony’s arm around him, his head settling against his chest. It’d been a while since they got to do anything other than pass each other by, so it felt stupidly good to be butted up against his greatest comfort source. A soft sigh left his lips, his chest relaxing for the first time in days.

“This is nice,” Peter said – the silence around them seemed to absorb the words, adding them to the atmosphere they created in the little bubble they were existing in in that very moment.

Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead, the scratch of his goatee making Peter’s eyes close, the touch enticingly familiar and soothing. “Everything about this, us, is nice, Pete. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Tony tugged him a little closer as he spoke.

The words took his breath away, but they were only the beginning. “I’ve had this thing in my pocket for months now,” Tony remarked as he shifted a little, a black box coming into view. Strong fingers flipped it open – a damascus steel wedding band sat within it. “I can’t even remember what I was waiting for, but it seems silly now. I want this forever, Pete – the ease and comfortability and passion that exists between us. Does that sound okay? Will you be my husband?”

Peter looked between Tony and the most unique ring he’d ever seen. Without thought, he nodded his head – “Yeah, yes – of course!” Peter put his untouched drink down on the ground and used his free hands to grab Tony’s face and press their lips together.

It took a few minutes to pull away from each other, Tony insistently kissed him the second their lips touched – Peter could feel the rush of so many emotions releasing in the caress. He kept his grip on Tony tight, Peter unwilling to let him get away. When the need for oxygen finally forced the issue, Tony sat back, pulling Peter’s hand with him, slipping the ring onto his finger. The swirl of the two metals together looked like an optical illusion against the paleness of his skin.

Tony pulled Peter’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss against the ring resting on the skin of his third finger.

“Forever it is then.”

----

The actual planning of the wedding was a lot more exhausting than Peter initially figured. Pepper, the beautiful human that she was, took care of a lot of it – she had friends that were wedding planners, so the most stressful things were handled flawlessly. It was the little things, however, that tripped them up the most. Tony wanted whatever Peter wanted, and that made deciding twice as difficult.

For the most part, Peter worked on instinct. He knew Tony’s favorite color was a dark red, which went perfectly with the gray of the suits he had in mind. The idea of having too many flowers anywhere near the place he said ‘I do’ made his stomach turn, so he focused on the food and alcohol choices that seemed a little more necessary. All of the extravagance seemed a little silly when Peter would’ve married Tony in a paper bag if that was the only option – but he knew tying himself to Tony Stark came with obligations, starting with a wedding that people could be seen at.

Despite that, Peter kept the guest list pretty small and decided to keep it simple and have it on the penthouse level of Stark Tower were they’d slowly been making a home for the last couple of years. A moving crew came in two days before the ceremony and removed all the furniture in the living room, dining room, and kitchen – the space now empty and equipped for the eclectic collection of foods that would be offered after their brief ceremony.

Before anyone knew it, they were getting ready for the small rehearsal dinner that May insisted she help with. Thankfully, Peter managed to cut the guest list down to their immediate friends making it much easier to handle. There were going to be more than 100 pairs of eyes staring at him the next day, the less people he needed to deal with the night before, the better.

Peter spent an extra couple of hours in the lab before going up to get ready – his mind was delightfully clear after getting his hands dirty. The stress he’d been feeling started to boil down into nothing the closer it got to marrying Tony. It’s what he wanted – a forever with the person that made him the happiest. No matter what happened that evening or the next day, getting to call himself a Stark at the end of it all was the only thing that mattered.

Tony ended up having a meeting until right before dinner, so his presence in the bathroom while Peter finished up getting ready made him jump. “Tony – holy shit!” Peter shouted, his voice echoing around them. Arms wrapped hm up, a chuckle huffing against his neck the only answer he knew he was going to get.

“I got done a little early. Thought I’d see how you were handling the suit,” Tony muttered, his lips moving across the length of Peter’s neck as he spoke. His hands moved down the length of Peter’s jacket, and across the crisp leather belt holding custom fit trousers. “Looks pretty good, except – “

Quick hands turned him around, Peter grinning when he came face to face with Tony’s dark eyes and soft smirk. “Your tie is crooked.” He worked the knot until it rested on the hollow of Peter’s throat, his fingers caressing the skin there. He was decked out in the dark red Tony liked, his shirt, vest, and tie etched with black seams and outlines. Tony wore black with the same shirt, vest, and tie combination. They looked like they went together.

Leaning forward, Peter stole a kiss from Tony before the man could even reciprocate. He pulled the sides of Tony’s coat closed and patted his stomach, affection dripping from him. “I can’t wait to marry you.” He looked Tony straight in the eye, the words somehow more serious that way.

The crinkles at the corner of Tony’s eyes got a little deeper as the happiest smile Peter could remember seeing spread across his face. “Yeah, me either.”

[iphoenixrising]

I was thinking about the Titans working with the Avengers Kon and Bart still a little ticked at how Tim was treated brag about how fast Tim bonded with the Avengers. How Tony is seconds away from adopting Tim. How Bucky and Tim have come so close that he is in agreement with Tony to kidnap their new son. How they had to drag Tim out of Tony's lab where he and Peter were playing with DUM-E. To add insult Cass shows up and says how happy Tim is. Dick & Jason are off to get their baby bird back.

Hi babe.

WELP. This is not exactly what you were thinking of, but dammit. Dammit. Angst, you know?

But I mean, I really do enjoy two things: Tony Stark taking Tim in the Tower so they can literally wreck ALL the things; also, the Bats realizing the absolute fuckery of how Tim pretty much got booted out of the role as Robin, then running elbows over assholes trying to get him back and make up for it.

So, I kind of thought it might start out like this maybe...

**

“How do we look, Tin Man?”

“We look fantastic as always, Klondike. Sexy is our aesthetic. See anything from your perch?”

“You know what I’m looking at, Tones.” The Winter Soldier only partly means the view in Gotham.

And yes, Iron Man already has JARVIS focused on the two vigilantes walking around their Robin’s penthouse apartment. He knew letting Tim come back to Gotham was a bad idea, but dammit Steve had been adamant, saying they shouldn’t try to sway the kid.

“He needs to make his own decisions, Tony. We want him to come back because he wants to, not because we’re pressuring him, right?”

Tony and Buck had immediately called bullshit, but couldn’t argue when Tim himself, old backpack and worn hoodie, no mask over his eyes or utility belt around his hips, just a 19 year old kid that looked so much younger, so timid, so broken without his alter ego.

“It’s time for me to go back,” he’d said quietly to the gathered Avengers, a whole different kid without the mask. “I just wanted to say good-bye.”

His eyes are violet-blue and soft when he looks around at them, seemingly satisfied he’d single-handedly brought the team back together after the shit show that was Civil War. He can leave now since the mission he’d set out to do is accomplished, and is apparent since they’re all gathered in New York City once again, leaving the Compound for the new incarnation of SHIELD with Fury at the helm, pretty much infiltrating the Tower to start the road back to becoming the family they used to be.

(And God is it crazy, fighting and living together with the insanity that is their lives.)

It started with a broken metal arm, alien invasions, and a plate of superior nachos.

It ended up with the team saving each other’s asses, coming to an understanding, fighting it out, then crying it out.

It ended with Wanda sobbing in Tony’s chest while his arms around her are almost as tight as Peitro’s once were, with Steve red-eyed on Tony’s other side, whispering in his hair how never again – together means together, with Bucky’s forehead against the back of his neck and tears streaming down his face, with Bruce and Nat holding hands while their legs tangled with Tony’s, Steve’s, and Vision’s, with Sam laughing at them all while he’s wiping his eyes, with the whole group literally jumping on Thor the minute he touches down with the new haircut and air of perpetual weariness, with them taking up a big table in their favorite 24-hour diner feeding each other and telling stories about what they’ve all been up to since that awful thing at the airport.  

Red Robin’s run with them started with fractured friendships and ends with them tripping all over each other during meals and movie nights. Bruce’s curry, Nat’s homemade dressing for the salad, Thor dipping in to snatch bites from everyone’s contribution. But this time around, it’s Sam and Wanda chopping vegetables while Bucky directs a sleepy Tony to a barstool close but out of the traffic, turning around to let the mechanic tie up his hair for him before he joins the cooking fiasco.

A week after they all move back in, he feels good leaving them with the rooms in the living quarters of Avengers Tower full of light and voices and warmth, just like it should have been. He’s giving himself a million vigilante points for this one – even if he’s going back out with no team and no safety net. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can’t stay forever anyway.

Besides, Kon and Bart have been trying to find him again, so it’s time to move on before they get too close. And really, he’s got no other excuses to stay. Bucky’s arm is maintained regularly, the broken team is working and the Accords (thankfully had been attacked on more than one side, thanks to big industries like WE and Queen, Inc. alongside Stark Industries) are modified to protect superheroes rather than stop them from doing what they do best.

All-in-all, he’d say the mission has been a success.

“Tim,” and the Captain moves away from Tony and Bucky’s side, one hand automatically out toward him, “you absolutely don’t have to go.”

“I appreciate the offer,” and he clears his suddenly tight throat, making sure the hood and too-long hair obscure his face. “But, it’s time.”

It only takes a glance back at the full team crowded around the communal floor television while the four player Mario Kart game stays on pause. The faces full of devastation make the message clear enough. With a decisive nod at the silent statement going through the team, Steve turns back to try arguing, the teenager is just–

–gone.

Tony, however, can’t shake the feeling of wrongness in the abrupt departure, and absolutely starts tracking the second he can pull away from the team to set-up protocols to trace the steps of their vigilante.

He listened to Steve’s half-hearted, “you know we can’t interfere with the Justice League, Tony. And Batman? Gotham is his territory. We go there, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be making it out if we even get past city limits.”

“Those guys might have the whole city wired with traps,” Natasha grudgingly admits. “Everyone knows the capes are unpredictable and terrifying. We should at least go through proper channels to get permission. Even if he’s still–”

“Oracle has nothing on me,” Tony’s eyes are all for the blipping red dot on his floating holo-screen.

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance behind Tony’s back, eyes meeting with a silent message. Bucky smirks and slides the muzzle up his face. Steve briskly turns on a heel and leaves the workshop with a plan already forming on how he’s going to run interference with the JLA so Tony and Bucky could sneak into Gotham without making a fuss.  

Bucky strides the opposite way, hand on Tony’s bicep, leaning in to talk low, “tell me ya got something more stealthy than red n’ gold, Doll. That or yer gonna play my Oracle, and get me in the kid’s penthouse from somewhere safe n’ sound.”

“Oh hell no. You’re not going anywhere without me. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, Buckeroo, and it’s going to get us an audience with our disappearing vigilante.”

Tony’s satisfied grin makes him look adorable enough that Bucky has to literally bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from kissing (their) the engineer until he begs.

(Not like this. Steve had to be there when they were finally ready to tell Tony how they felt about him. Soon, they’d agreed last night after finding the exhausted mechanic asleep on the kitchen table with a tablet clutched in his hand and could finally admit to themselves how much he made them want.)

“I’ll bite. What d’ya got?”

“Just a little something super waiting in the wings. JJ, fire up the Quinjet. We’ve got a Robin to visit.”

With the Winter Soldier watching the two vigilantes facing Tim through his scope, Tony stands on a closer rooftop with the very new, very nice stealth armor, recording the footage of Nightwing and the Red Hood. His blood heats when it looks like they’re yelling at Red Robin while the younger is obviously bandaging himself up after a bad run-in.

And they’re not even helping him for fuck’s sake.

“Wow, that’s cold,” Bucky says softly while the comm in their ears are giving them the whole conversation. Something about Tim taking on a guy named Bane by himself. Seems to Buck like the kid took the asshole down, so the ass-chewing the other vigilantes are handing him seems to be pretty fucking ungrateful.

“They don’t deserve him. We have more sciency things for him to do. Crime fighting is always fun, but why not build amazing shit in-between?”

“Aw, c’mon Tones. Gotta let ‘im outta the lab so’s we can spar. Kid’s always got tricks. Makes fer some fun.”

“I know that’s why you like him so much, Barnes.”

“What, like I ain’t seen you fightin’ outside the suit before?”

“I’m not teenage vigilante kind of street-smart. I will punch the hell out of you, make some nifty explosions, re-configure your systems...oh.”

“Finally gettin’ it are ya?” And he can’t help it when his tone drops a little, watching Nightwing’s arms flail. “S’why I like ‘im. Reminds me of you, Doll.”

“...you might actually make me blush, Soldier. How novel.”

“If it helps, Steve never believed ya were just a guy in a suit. Not from the moment he met ya.”

“Where the hell did that come from?”

“Like I ain’t hung out with ya the past few months? I know how ya think, Stark, and ya ain’t just the armor.”

“Sure, sure. In all actuality, I’m the most well-paid consultant that ever lived.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes flicker over where the Mark XXI is ducked in the shadows, jaw clenching because Tony’s odd self-deprecating tendencies bothers him just as much as it bothers Stevie. At some point, they’re going to address it with Tony, face-to-face. Not now, but that day is going to come, so help him.

In the meantime, Bucky tunes back in on the conversation happening inside, flips the safety on his rifle, and starts moving closer to Tony’s roof since they might not even need Plan B after all.

“What does that even mean, Timmy?”

“Calm it down, Big Wing. Pretender, look–”

“Do you see a fucking R on my chest, Hood?” And even from where he’s trucking over rooftops, Bucky can see the tension in Tim’s spine, the fast, angry movements as he tapes gauze pads to obviously fresh stitches. “I’m not ‘pretending’ fuck anymore. So how about you fuck off with that ‘Pretender’ shit.”

“...all right. That’s fair, so my bad. But lookit, B is all about ya coming ta the yearlies, you feel me?”

“What part of ‘it’s not my place’ isn’t clear here?”

The sigh from Nightwing is loud enough to hear it over the microphone Tony planted when they touched down.

“You have got to get over this thing,Tim. Dami’s been Robin for–”

“That’s what you think? That I’m fucking jealous, Dick?”

“He was a kid. He’s not still crying about the past–”

“Get. The Fuck. Out.”

The quiet calm of Tim’s tone is enough to make Bucky pause, and the sleek black Iron Man armor to step out of the shadows.

“I’m serious Tim! Listen–”

“I’m done. Done with you, done with the Bats, I’m fucking done. So do us both a favor and forget you were ever here.”

Nightwing flinches, his shoulders and back getting tight by the time Bucky is beside Iron Man, frowning behind the muzzle.

“I think we’ve heard about enough,” is distorted but still so Tony through the suit’s synthesizers. “Want a ride, Red Dawn? We can show up and be the likeable ones for once.”

“Really, Iron Man? I thought only Cap got special rides.”

“Well, I will always make an exception for my Bucky Bear, you know,” and he wiggles an arm, sighs a little as the Winter Soldier steps up against the suit, stepping up on to the rocket boots.

Having Bucky against him is something he can keep locked in the secret file in his brain he pulls up when he has bad days. Things like Steve hugging him, trips to the ball field, Bucky hanging out with him in the workshop while Steve drew or read or did paperwork on his tablet.

(Things he can never have. Sure, he can want, but he can’t let it get too real. Locking it away is safer for everyone.)

Knocking on the door of Tim’s balcony, shaking up the Bats, is really much more satisfying than Tony would have thought ten seconds ago.

He knows Tim is shocked, had probably been expected the big, bad Bat at his door rather than two Avengers waiting for entrance.

In his black and gold stealth armor, Tony waves metal fingers when the curtains pull back and Tim’s mouth drops open on the other side.

The door is wrenched open, and they can both hear, “we ain’t done here, Tim,” from inside, but Tim absolutely ignores it to stare wide-eyed at Iron Man and the Winter Soldier just, you know, hanging out on his balcony of all the fucking places.

“Tony. Bucky, what the hell–”

“Leave you alone for a few minutes, and you’re all kinds of hurt. Why am I not shocked? Winter Wonderland, are you shocked?” Tony gives no shits about interrupting this cute little family get-together and absolutely pushes his way in to Tim’s penthouse without a fuck to give.

As normal, Bucky is more of a doer than a talker when he’s in the mask, so Tony gets to watch him do that incredibly sexy murder strut right over the threshhold and grab a hold of Tim’s elbow. He snickers at the older vigilantes obviously gawking as the Winter Soldier pushes the third Robin down in a seat at his kitchen table right by the open first-aid kit.

“Zadnitsa,” the Winter soldier snarls in rebuke, already digging out more gauze pads.

“I missed you too, Frosty,” Tim shoots back, obliging the dangerous assassin by holding still while the gauze pads are taped down and more alcohol wipes are used to disinfect a serious slice on Tim’s shoulder blade.

Honestly, Tony has no idea how he even managed to stitch it himself, but the helmet swings over to the two surprised vigilantes.

“This sure as hell ain’t a good way to show it, y’know,” Bucky pulls the goggles off but leaves the mask, metal arm moving seamlessly while he gently pats the remaining slice with disinfectant.  

“Well, I didn’t expect you two to just drop in or anything. Or else, I might have a nice psycho for you to take down.”

“Well, shows you, don’t it?”

“I guess so. But I do have a bag full of plums in the fridge, so you’re in luck.”

“Hell yeah, Red.”

The faceplate of the helmet kicks up and Tony is grinning beneath it, “aww, plums for our favorite murder bot? What about coffee for your best engineer friend–”

Bucky pauses abruptly, and Tony sees the movement, a soft sigh of sound, but only just. The knife as long as his forearm is just suddenly out, metal hand on Tim’s good shoulder, holding him down, some automatic instinct to protect the kid makes Tony bite the inside of his cheek so he isn’t smiling.

The other vigilantes, however, are really intimidated in their own right since Red Hood has twin .45s in his gloved hands and Nightwing’s escrima sticks spark a few times for good measure.

“Tim, get up slowly and step back,” Nightwing’s voice is just this side of dangerous.

“We gotcha back, Tim, you feel me?” Hood’s thumbs flick the safety, a whole lot of not fuckin’ around happening right here.

“Do me a personal favor,” the unmasked vigilante deadpans, “and go fuck yourselves.” Tim wiggles out from under the hold on his shoulder and stands, gingerly puts a hand on Bucky’s brandishing the knife. He waits for those blue-gray eyes to slide over to him.

“C’mon, Bucky,” Tim tries to cajole softly, “these guys aren’t a threat. The knife is very nice. Is it new? You know I like to look at new weapons, but you can put it away. Promise.”

“Malyutka,” is a question more than a statement.

Tim huffs in annoyance because honestly, he’s not a kid.  (Welp, take into account, 100+ year old assassin, and maybe he can see the point.)

“My apartment, my rules, and if anyone, anyone,” he stresses, glaring at the two tense vigilantes, “gets blood on my floors or walls, then it’s fucking on. Everyone get that?”

“You’ll have to forgive us for being jumpy,” Nightwing deadpans, “we have a tendency to treat legendary assassins with immediate attention when one’s in our city, right Hood?”

The stiff angle of the guns doesn’t waver, nor does the helmet move. “Gotta say,” Hood’s voice is deep, even with the synths, “always thought this might go down different if our paths ever crossed again, Soldier.”

From behind the muzzle, Bucky’s teeth flash white, a terrifying smile, “last time my Handler wouldn’t let me kill you, Red Hood. Wanna to give it a go now that I don’t have one?”

“Sounds like a fucking party to me, sweetheart. Ya gimmie a time n’ I’ll bring the motherfuckin’ confetti.”

“Any. Fuckin’. Time–”

“As entertaining as this is,” Tony interjects, the soft haaa when the armor opens up to let him step out, “our host absolutely said no blood, right boys?”

Slowly, weapons lower, but the tension is high in the room, only broken when Bucky points a gloved finger back to the chair Tim was previously in.

(And during the time Tim had spent with the Avengers, none of them knew the Winter Soldier and Red Hood had met before. He’s going to want some details on that little scuffle.)

“Thank-you. I’m glad good manners are winning out over bullshit posturing,” and Tony pours on his media smile, giving Nightwing and the Red Hood something else to look at while Bucky gently finishes up with their vigilante. “Because really. We’re literally all on the same side here. We just happen to go through legal channels to beat the shit out of bad guys. Not as much fun, but you can’t beat the tax breaks.”

“Mmhm, I’m really hoping you aren’t in Gotham as Iron Man, Mr. Stark. You know there are rules about being in this city.”

And Tony would bet his entire fortune Nightwing has a listening device somewhere in that ridiculously tight suit for the Dark Knight to monitor what’s happening in Red Robin’s apartment right this moment.

(Especially the fact they know his civilian identity and are comfortable enough calling him by his real name. They probably aren’t going to be on any Justice League party invites for a while after this. He wonders how Steve is doing with Superman and Wonder Woman right about now.)

“I asked them to come,” Tim interjects, not bothering to glance at either vigilante, “they’re here to help me with a case. My lead is a dead-end, so we’re all going to be out of Gotham as soon as fucking possible. The Batman will have to deal with it.”

Tony hums, crosses his arms over his chest. He meets Bucky’s quick glance, quirks a grin since maybe they could convince him to come to New York instead. Or, if his Plan B is still waiting in the wings, they could do something altogether different.

(There’s a whole floor available in the Tower, and wouldn’t that be some incentive for Tim to get it together and land somewhere more permanent?)

“Tim…” and the wealth of warning there isn’t enough to earn Nightwing the youngest vigilante’s attention after the last gauze pad goes on.

But the youngest of the vigilantes stands from his chair, turns to give them the same fuck you and the zip line you rode in on attitude, “don’t fucking even with me, N.”

“You can’t come to the yearly gathering for one night, but you can pal around with the Avengers?”

And oh! Is that jealousy he hears? Tony has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking because wow, Nightwing does not sound very happy.

“It’s none of your fucking business–” and that tension is back in the square of Tim’s bare shoulders, the flex of his forearms.

Tony easily picks up his discarded nerd shirt, pointedly steps between him and the glowering vigilantes, shoves the shirt over the kid’s head and ignores his sputtering.

“I’m sure nothing that would interest you,” Tony makes a point to stay between the two groups, “I mean, you don’t work with Red Robin anymore, right? So he’s a free agent. Believe me, he’s been super helpful with us in New York, I don’t know if we'd all be in the same room without him.”

Tony is being absolutely innocent about it, letting Tim shove his arms in the right places while he grins at the obviously unhappy vigilantes over his shoulder.

The glare Tim levels at him would have probably withered anyone else. Good thing Tony has very, very little shame, and between him and Steve, the best troll in the Avengers award is still undecided. This might just put him over the top. He doesn’t need Bucky to remove his mask to know there’s a smirk underneath.

“I’m sorry, what now?” The whiteouts swing from Tim to Tony, “since when don’t we work together? We only have since you were twelve–”

“And we haven’t since your Robin kicked me the fuck out of my home. I’ve been out of the Cave, out of this city, and out of your life since then, so don’t come here with some attitude about it.” Tim’s eyes slide to the Red Hood. “You two coming here to ask me about the yearlies? Like I’ve been there for the last three? Like I haven’t come back unless someone called me in because, let’s face it, I’m just another body to fight the good fight, right? So this? Acting like I’m just going to forgive and forget? You can both absolutely go fuck yourselves.”

And some tiny part of Tony feels utterly proud in that moment, feels somewhat vindicated at how cold and calm Tim is, how he’s just laying it all out on the table, no bullshit, no contingencies, no taking the high road, no giving in, and it’s so much the Tim he knows, squaring his shoulders and facing both older vigilantes with anger so cold it burns.

“I–I mean, Tim–”

“There is literally nothing you could say right now that I’d want to hear, Nightwing. Nothing. All those years of fighting together, of being partners? I never would have guessed you’d be the one to stab me in the back, but I guarantee you won’t get another chance.”

But, the night gets that much better when Nightwing and the Red Hood gives them the death glare of doom before Tim pretty much kicks them out of his apartment.

Tony isn’t cheering out loud, but wow does he want to.

“Timmy,” Nightwing gives it one last, desperate try, turning at an impossible angle with one leg out the window to face the de-masked vigilante, tone low and serious.

“You’re a few years too late, Nightwing. Now get the fuck out.”

Tim had flicked his hand out behind him, a flat palm telling Tony and Bucky to stay back when he pretty much forced both vigilantes out of his apartment with a sneer of disdain and a promise to set his security protocols to shock the utter fuck out of them if they ever tried to come back to his last hold-over in Gotham. By the way the Red Hood stood shock still, and Nightwing’s frown deepened, they apparently believed him.

While Tim shuts the windows, locking them with finality, Bucky finally pulls off his muzzle and goggles, exchanges a worried glance with Tony when he realizes Tim’s hands are shaking.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Is soft but firm, is obvious Tim is trying to put himself back together.

“Well, as I said earlier–”

“Don’t bullshit me, Tony. There’s no case.”

With how empty and cold Tim sounds, how his hands are fisted at his sides, the tremble going through him, Tony pauses to take in the rest of the signs. He catches Bucky’s eyes and makes an executive decision.

Plan B it is.

“Okay, you’re right. No case. But, what I do have for you is more interesting and important than a case right now. Meaning, I still need your help with it.”

And when the kid finally turns to face him, face them, Tony can see the effects of dealing with Nightwing and the Red Hood in the clench of Tim’s jaw and the way he won’t really meet Tony’s eyes. A distraction is exactly what he needs, a reason to get the hell out of this city before he drowns in his own misery.

Instead, Tony turns his head toward a window, “all right, kid. Time to make your dramatic entrance!”

The super speed never gets old.

Not to mention the fact, Superboy is absolutely adorable when he’s just suddenly there, grabbing Tim around the waist and hugging him a little desperately.

“Oh my God, Kon?!”

Blue eyes blown wide, Tim’s eyes go from the meta-human wrapped around him to Tony’s soft smile to Bucky’s gentle smirk.

“Tim, Tim I can’t– I just! I...I missed you so much, Tim. We all missed you so much,” and Kon-El’s voice is barely a croak, heavy and thick with emotion, his face buried in the side of Tim’s throat, his back hunched over the smaller vigilante. “I needed to see you. Sorry about this, but...I’m not really.”

Like muscle memory, Tim’s brings a hand to the back of his best friend’s neck, making small circles against the tight tendons with his finger tips, still looking more shocked than pissed.

Tony is absolutely going to take it as a win.

**zadnitsa means ass or asshole kind of. Thanks Google Translate :D

[hackink]

Step Dad

A short story

I hear thrashing and screaming, I yearned for it to end, never did. That quite sucks not gonna lie.

I'm the big one, it's like I'm the chosen one in my family, could be both good or bad. I've got to take care of my siblings, like all the time. The big responsibilities always point in my direction. It's not all bad, I do have my fair share of fun. But for that same reason, I must set a good example. I can't really act the way I wanna most of the time, usually I've make-up on my face, covering the skin before it. It's kinda complicated.

This one time, my parents came into my room, they introduced me to someone, he was a tall white man, and was fairly well clothed. He was wearing these really nice shoes, and had a suit on that looked like it cost buck. I shook his big hand, it felt soft, and a bit warming. We talked for about 30 minutes, he was a fairly nice person, and my parents seemed to like him as well.

After that time was over, my dad went to the room, and grabbed some suitcases out from the closet, as he rolled them by, I felt my heart drop. They explained everything.

Quickly, I put my make-up on, before it was too late, it was. Once I saw my little brother and sister hugging the leg of my dad, begging him to stay, I washed it off naturally. 'Who is he to take the place of my dad?' This thought lingered in my head that night, I took some sleeping pills.

I avoided the man, I didn't want to talk to him, if I saw my mother close to him, I'd turn my head, cause I know how violent I can get. There was this one time, where I walked into the kitchen to get a snack, was playing Minecraft with my siblings, and there I saw the two, hugging and kissing. I, at that moment, remembered how my dad taught me to drive, how he taught me to build a nice dog house for our pet dog, which had died upon my dad's exit. I remembered every single second I spent with my father, the amazing role model he was, and snapped.

Back in the 8th grade, one of my good friends was playing bloody knuckles with someone. He totaled him. He then turned to me, and held his fist up, I didn't last two punches. He told me to start punching the walls at home, bit by bit, so that it wouldn't hurt and my fists would become stronger. In two months' time, my knuckles along with my punches, had become stronger than most boys in my school. I beat my friend, the only time I did too, cause he trained after that as well, and became much better than me. Though, I did beat just about anyone in school at bloody knuckles.

I clenched my fist, and I dropped my phone. This man was innocent, I just hated the fact that he wanted to replace the man who could never be replaced, ever. I felt like letting him know. I had never punched anything as hard as I could, since it'd probably be the end of my fist, but boy do I gotta say his cheek was soft. He fell to the ground and hit the stove with his head, my mom started to scream and push me back, each little shove she gave me, let me know how much she liked this man. They all hurt. I hadn't seen her do that with my dad in the past year, and he gets to do it in the first week? I couldn't settle with that, I ran out the house, and went to my grandma's house, where I began punching the tree in order to not break down in tears.

She gave me some hot cocoa, and let me spend the night there. She felt like she always had, like my grandma, so I felt comfortable, silently I sobbed. The next morning I got up and took a shower, my hands had a bunch of wounds in them from punching the tree bare fisted, and they really hurt to clean. They were also shaking, 'maybe I cracked a bone or something?' I didn't really care, my adrenaline wasn't going down anytime soon.

I was taking a jog outside around the house to clear my mind, when I see a tall man, with some really nice shoes, and a bruise on his cheek come by. 'Your mother sent me to get you.' I ignored him, for his sake. He sat down in a chair, and patted next to him, signaling for me to take a seat. I was thinking it was a bad pun, was he here to mock me? His face was so infuriating, the fact that it wasn't six feet under was pissing me off. On my next lap around the house, I kicked his chair over, his suit looked expensive. He smiled and chuckled, 'kids these days are quite funny.' Why? He must be a psycho, my reaction would be to get mad, or confused at least!

He began to jog alongside me, this man was starting to tick me off big time. I stopped running, grabbed his tie, and said 'Get out, and I mean out, you lay another finger on my mom and I'll kill you!' I tripped him, and continued my jog. I'd feel guilty, but I can't for someone who got my father kicked out of the house, nobody deserves to live after screwing with my family.

I returned home later that day, still a tad hesitant because of the incidents the day prior. My mom asked me to help her cook, she was making shrimp. She gave me the basic rundown of what she had going, and started cutting vegetables off to the side, we started talking about the usual, how much I annoyed her, and how my siblings were idiots. I hear the door open, and I get ready for disappointment, 'Hello everybody!!' it's a... playful voice?

'Where's my food you peasants?' My eyes lighten up, followed by tears. I rush over to hug my dad, started to sob in his arms. He had a black bag, that had chips in it, he always brought chips back home from time to time. He lied it down on the table, and not long after, my siblings came running and crying. 'Dad why did you leave!?' My little brother cried as he hugged him, my sister on the other side. I felt a sense of family, something I haven't felt in a long time. Through the open door walked a other entity, the tall man. I then snapped back into life, and became a bit sad that I wasn't seeing my dad every day, or that he wasn't showing me something. I didn't feed him, I let him eat a microwaved frozen food, I could not give a damn about his existence. Well, that's a lie, I'd prefer if he was gone.

A couple weeks went by, I was kinda getting used to ignoring the tall man in my house. One good thing is that I never saw him getting intimate with my mom. Could've been good or bad, cause I couldn't punch him, bummer. He was always at work, your typical nine to five corporate slave. So when he was gone, I'd spend time normally with my family. I video chatted my dad every day or two, and just talked about life, sometimes he'd show me how to wood work via video chat. I could live with this.

One day, he came back with a few boxes in his hands, and a letter, or at least that's what it looked like. He opened the boxes in front of my sister and brother, as well as my mom and I. Inside the link box, there was a super high quality drawling tablet, the exact one that my sister always wanted, and cracked jokes about. She took it and ran to her room to use it. In the blue box, there was this laptop, one that my little brother was talking about gettjng for ages, and wouldn't shut up about how good it was. He said thank you and ran to his room to use it. I was pissed, he was trying to buy us into liking him, and it was seeming to be quite effective. He opened a my box, it was keys to a car, specifically the car I always told my dad I was going to get when I got money, and got us out of this house, into a nice house. He always said he was gonna buy it for me, I felt conflicted.

'I know we've had our ups and downs, but I really do want to get along with you as my child, or maybe even just a friend.' I saw my mom out of the corner of my eye, she was tearing up, of happiness. I came back to my senses, and went back to my room, slammed the door shut. I knew I had let my mother down, there were like twenty different emotions circulating through me, they were wreaking havoc. I began to punch the walls, I started screaming, it was probably audible from miles away. I felt weird, something I had never felt before. It didn't seem healthy, but I didn't care. This feeling was new to me, I felt like dying over and over, but even then, that might've not been enough to suppress the pain. I remember thinking to myself, 'I'm gonna kill him, he will die!'

That night, I asked him to come talk to me outside. He looked excited. We went outside, and I took him to the back of the house. I had an itch on my lower back. 'So, what's up?' I didn't reply. 'You're uh, quite the mysterious one aren't you?' He chuckled a bit to himself, I didn't move a muscle. He began to talk about what he had for the future, how he was gonna move us out in like a month, and buy us everything we wanted. 'That's what my dad's gonna do.' I mumbled quietly. 'I beg your pardon?' He replied. I couldn't take it anymore. 'My dad's gonna buy us a house, he's gonna move us out!' I pulled out the pocket knife from the back of my pants and stabbed him in the chest.

His blood came rushing out shortly, I began to scream and cry, 'You will never be my dad!' I stabbed him time and time again, he didn't move after a while. My dad walked up behind me and patted me on the back, along with my mother, sister, and little brother. We spit on him together, and we started to chant, it was a happy chant. We danced around his corpse. I started to sweat intensely, my family began to fade away, still chanting, it turned louder and louder. They began to float away, I dropped to my knees, and the tall man was laughing at me, he pointed and laughed. I started to laugh, with tears running down my face, I took the knife and pointed it at me, that's when I heard the voice. 'Wake up! Jesus Christ you've been sleeping all morning!'

My mom woke me up, I got up and went to the table. I got a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and began to eat. My mom walked outside and began to talk to my aunt, 'So, I was able to get this puppy sold for about $150!' I overheard some of their conversation, I wanted a puppy. My dad walked in with a bag, 'Hello my dear children! I am awesome for I have brought the goodies!' I look inside the bag, and tell him that he forgot my hot chips. He quickly runs outside. I take the bag over to my sister and brother, where they get their bag of chips, and start munching away. Once I finish my cereal, I get ready for school. I brush my teeth, and put on a sweater. My mom passes by me on the phone with her sister, talking about something, I couldn't quite catch it. As I open the door, I see my dad chasing after my baby sister, who's face is covered in mud, and laughing away. 'I'm gonna brush your hair so hard!' He yells at her, I giggle to myself. My aunt is outside my house, playing jump rope with my cousin. I wonder who's winning. My sister walks past me, and looks at me. 'Another bad dream?' she asks. 'Yea, this one was hectic.'

[dat-fandom-losertown]

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 9: One Down, One to Go...

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank x Connor and Gavin x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any warnings beyond the usual swearing...

Word Count: 8,311

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    “Sit your asses down.”

    Ritch quickly does as Marshal Fowler says, trying to not think about how he and Connor were in this room not too long ago. He also tries to not think about how quiet and obedient Gavin’s being, especially since the last time he was in the marshal’s “private office”, he was just as sassy and snippy as ever.

    This is not good.

    “I’ve got a lot of questions and you guys are already on some thin fucking ice, so you better give me the truth when I ask ‘em. Got it?”

    Ritch nods and figures Gavin must too, since he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

    “Good. You can start by telling me why the fuck you broke into Harold’s and Leach’s bunker.”

    Ritch silently turns his head to glare at Gavin. He was the one who said there were no cameras, and how else did they get caught? Ritch managed to pull the both of them out before that group of assholes turned the corner.

    “We didn’t do shit.”

    Apparently Gavin is more of a dumbass than he thought.

    Marshal Fowler levels him with a glare. “You’re a dumbass if you don’t remember the cameras we set up in the pilot’s hall.”

    The pilot makes a strange, strangled noise. “Those cameras have been down for weeks! Months!”

    “Those cameras were just fixed two days ago because people down that hall possibly had contraband. Now why the hell did you go against my orders and recruit someone to break into someone’s bunker?”

    “Just like you said! They were keeping combat knives and givin’ them out to people!” Gavin snaps, “I wasn’t gonna sit by and let them get away with it! Nothing was happening!”

    Ritch watches as Marshal Fowler’s eye twitches and decides to step in before the situation can devolve any further. 

    “Marshal Fowler, I wasn’t recruited. I was the one who approached Gavin while he was watching Harold and Leach’s group from a distance, and I offered to get him inside their bunker. It was my idea to take a more hands-on approach.”

    “And why the hell would you offer to break into someone’s room just because of a vague suspicion?”

    How does he answer this without sounding like a narcissistic jerk, as North once bluntly put it? Is there even a way? He can’t think of one off the top of his head...

    “Because I’ve spent most of my life training to read body language so I can have a better idea of who is trustworthy and who would be more likely to give away or sell classified information.” Ritch reaches into the large pocket on his right outer thigh as he continues, “So when I think something or someone is especially suspicious, I’m confident that I’m not wrong.”

    He pulls his hand out of his pocket, revealing the two sheathed knives he stashed there in a hurry earlier. Marshal Fowler’s eyes widen slightly, and Ritch sets the two weapons on the desk between them. They both jump slightly when Gavin violently slams his hand down onto the desk.

    “Why the fuck did you not tell me you grabbed some knives, asshole!? We could’ve skipped the fight if you had and we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess! What the hell!?”

    “There were people in the hallway so–”

    “No there weren’t! I fucking checked!–”

    “If you had shut your trap for one second you would’ve heard the footsteps and Leach’s obnoxious laughing. But you couldn’t think about anything but throwing a tantrum and a punch.” Ritch has to keep himself from snarling the words. He barely manages it.

    “Oh, so you couldn’t have whispered it to me or something!? Or told me–”

    “Told you what, Gavin? To wait a minute? Because I knew there wasn’t any way to get you to listen unless I physically brought you out of your head.”

    “And that was a good enough reason to punch me!?” Gavin stands up from his seat.

    “At the time, yes!” Ritch curls his hands into fists.

    “Enough! Both of you!” Marshal Fowler snaps, “Sit the hell down, Reed, and don’t fucking test me.”

    Gavin drops himself into his chair, glowering at nothing in particular with his arms crossed tensely.

    “We’re not done talking about the breaking and entering–”

    “It’s not breaking and entering if we knew the code–”

    “Were you given the code, Reed? Was Stern?” The glare the marshal sends the pilot’s way is enough to make even Ritch freeze. It’s enough for Gavin to slightly shrivel in his chair.

    “…no sir.”

    “Then it was fucking breaking and entering.” Marshal Fowler heaves a deep breath and raises a hand to rub his temple. “We will talk more about that later. God knows we’ll have to. But right now, we’re gonna talk about that fight. And I want Stern to go first!” he adds louder when Gavin opens his mouth to speak.

    Ritch swallows, but he’s careful to not let his voice doesn’t portray the sudden nervousness he feels, “What would you like to know, sir?”

    The marshal sighs, but surprisingly doesn’t yell, “Why did you punch Reed? There’s no sound on those cameras.”

    Ritch grimaces, “I didn’t want to get in trouble, and he was starting to get riled up.” Gavin opens his mouth to speak, but stops when Marshal Fowler glares at him. “I thought a punch would get him to stop yelling and get out of his head long enough for me to say something. It worked, just not in the way I was expecting.”

    “And I’m assuming you punched back because Stern punched you first?”

    “Partially.” Gavin growls.

    The marshal raises his eyebrows and nods sharply to get Gavin to continue, which he does after a moment of visibly collecting himself; probably so he doesn’t explode.

    “I mainly punched that asshat because he punched me first, but he also dragged me out after I found the knives but didn’t let me take one. Had I known he’d taken one or more of them, I would have left quieter. Probably.”

    “I punched him back because I thought I could goad him into chasing me away from where people could see me, but he reacted quicker than I anticipated, so I couldn’t immediately step away.”

    “Okay then.” Marshal Fowler says tersely.

    He turns to grab something out of his desk drawers. He lifts up a tablet, taps a few things on it, then props it up on his desk so Ritch and Gavin could see the screen. The recording of the fight is on there, and according to the bottom of the screen where the marshal is manipulating the video feed, the fight only lasted a handful of minutes instead of how long it felt being a part of it.

    The screen suddenly freezes at the beginning of the fight, where they had both first paused to evaluate each other.

    “Why didn’t you run there?”

    That question is easy. “I don’t turn my back to an opponent unless I know I can outrun them. I underestimated how fast Gavin could react, so I no longer knew if I could run faster than him.”

    “Okay.” He responds in the same terse tone. If he hadn’t been subject to that type of tone frequently under Amanda’s care, he would likely be getting more nervous now.

    He distantly wonders if this is what Connor has to feel 24/7, and if it gets noticeably worse in tense situations. It would unfortunately explain a lot.

    Marshal Fowler simply presses play on the video so they have to watch their fight, instead of just skipping to where he wants to make his next point. It takes what feels like a couple minutes, but Marshal Fowler finally pauses where He kicked Gavin in the back of the knees.

    “And why didn’t you run off here? He’s down, you could have at least gotten a head start.”

    Ritch highly doubts that Marshal Fowler will like his answer, so he says nothing. He probably won’t like the silence either, but maybe there’s a chance he’ll move on to Reed–

    “Stern.”

    Shit.

    “I was… enjoying it?” he answers without much thought like an idiot.

    He sees Gavin snap his head towards him as Marshal Fowler continues in a mildly surprised tone.

    “Enjoying it. Is that a question or an answer?”

    Ritch shifts in his chair and avoids eye contact as he explains, “The only people I’ve ever sparred or fought with are Connor and the occasional personal trainer Amanda sent our way.” He shifts again. “I’ve never sparred with anyone where I didn’t know exactly what to expect from them or didn’t have any strict guidelines or rules to be aware of. Having something different was… enjoyable.”

    After a few silent moments where it becomes increasingly obvious Ritch is done talking, the marshal finally prompts more discussion.

    “So sparring with someone new was fun? Or sparring with someone like Reed, or even just Reed himself was fun? Because I need to know the difference.”

    Ritch blinks. He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of “it was the adrenaline of the fight I liked,” but he closes it again and actually thinks about his answer.

    If anyone other than Gavin threw a punch at his throat, he wouldn’t have just dodged. He would have grabbed that person’s arm and twisted it until it hurt then warned them that he wasn’t as inexperienced as they thought. Although, if anyone but Gavin was standing at the food court entrance staring at that group of jerks, Ritch would have ignored them and continued past to get the juice he was there for. If anyone but Gavin was mouthing off at him with those people behind him, he wouldn’t have punched them, he more likely would have slapped a hand over their mouth and signaled for them to be quiet. Although, that’s more because that method would probably work on anyone who wasn’t Gavin.

    He also truly wasn’t lying when he stated that the fight was fun, especially after they moved on from the basic punching and kicking; when there were no real rules to the fight but there was a silent understanding to not aim to seriously injure. He’s never fought like that with anyone before. It was exciting, and Ritch doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t know how to feel about anything anymore.

    “I don’t know. I do know that I wouldn’t have reacted in certain ways if the person I was sparring with wasn’t Gavin, but I also doubt that I would have aided anyone who wasn’t Gavin or Connor with this, and this isn’t something Connor would do in the first place.”

    Ritch looks up to meet Marshal Fowler’s eyes. The other man immediately huffs and turns to Gavin.

    “And you, I’m guessing you fought just because that’s what you do when you’re mad? You didn’t know when to quit?”

    Ritch looks to Gavin and is surprised to meet the pilot’s gaze instead of seeing the side of his head. He looks like he’s a mixture of curious, mad, and frightened of all things, and his shoulders are tense with whatever concoction of emotions he’s feeling. Ritch tilts his head in question, which causes Gavin to snap out of it with a deep scowl, and turn to Marshal Fowler with a sarcastic smile.

    “You know I always have fun when I’m brawling–”

    “I already know what your punishment is going to be, so don’t try to lessen it.”

    That makes Ritch sit straight and eyebrows furrow. He didn’t think Gavin was trying to do anything beyond his usual shenanigans.

    “And if you’re gonna do what I think you’re gonna do, then I want no fucking part of it.”

    “You don’t have a say in the matter.”

    “Like fuck I don’t! It’s my–”

    Marshal Fowler points to the screen forcefully. “Take one look at that video and try to tell me that you two aren’t compatible.”

    Ritch freezes. Gavin and Marshal Fowler keep talking and yelling but he suddenly can’t understand or even properly hear them.

    Compatible? I can be compatible with someone who isn’t Connor? Without retraining myself completely?

    Closing his mouth, not knowing when it opened in the first place, he reaches over to restart the video. He leans forward in his chair and watches the feed carefully, pretending this is another one of Amanda’s exercises– that it isn’t him and Gavin in the video, that it’s just two random people. How would he rate the pair’s compatibility, taking into account these two people have only been speaking to each other for less than a month (if the taunts he and Gavin trade can even be considered “talking”, that is).

    Several minutes later, once the video is over, his analysis is that he and Gavin are, objectively, extremely compatible for combat. Take that and add the fact that they both enjoy making fun of each other often despite Gavin clearly disliking it when anyone else does so and the fact that they have the potential to work well together outside of combat as well, if the initial breaking into the room is anything to go by… Ritch slowly sits up and leans back into his chair, not focusing on anything in particular as he rests his chin in his palm and lets his fingers cover his mouth in thought.

    They could absolutely be compatible with a little training and getting properly used to each other. They definitely could be drift compatible.

    Ritch knew he’d need to get a new partner, of course. He knew this. Yet, somehow he’s completely shocked that he could be compatible with anyone who isn’t Connor. He always assumed that if he was, then his twin would still be the closest he could get to true drift compatibility, and the other partner would be a case of “close enough”. Although, fighting with and against Connor has always been more of a chore than anything else, especially since it happened, and this fight with Gavin was just… not.

    Is that how sparring with someone is supposed to be? Enjoyable? He thought it was supposed to be a chore because jaeger pilots are not supposed to be fighting against one another, they’re supposed to fight and work together. He doesn’t know anymore. The one thing he does know nowadays is that he doesn’t know anything anymore, that nothing in this new world fits anything he thought he knew before. He doesn’t know if he can handle anything more being proven false in his life. He doesn’t know–

    “Hey ass-face.”

    Ritch blinks hard and turns to Gavin. A part of him knows that he should express his confusion instead of staring blankly at him, but a larger part of him is too tired and unsteady to even try. He then abruptly remembers that he’ll have to get better at conveying emotions before he starts doing it around Gavin because the new and failed attempts make the pilot extremely uncomfortable.

   Or would he be considered a trainee, now that they’re apparently partners? Or would RItch be considered an unofficial pilot?

    “Ritch.” Marshal Fowler calls in a more gentle voice, “You okay?”

    Ritch blinks again and forces his attention on him with a sharp nod. Why is his head moving so slow? Isn’t getting a new partner something he wanted? Everything he wanted, recently? It definitely still is, and he knows a part of him is happy–

    “Your punishment for the fight is rooming with Reed for the indefinite future and making an effort to get along on the basis of possibly being drift compatible. We’ll talk about the breaking and entering and theft when the people in charge of this contraband case has time to go over it with you. Go pack up your stuff, Stern.”

    Ritch sits up stiffly at that and his eyes go wide in realization. “Connor has never slept in a room on his own before. I don’t know if it’s wise for me to leave so suddenly–”

    “He’s a grown man. He can handle having a room to himself for now. And you’ll be talking to someone about that later too, with Connor and a therapist present.”

    Ritch decides against saying how he’s nervous to share a bunker with someone as potentially dangerous and unstable as Gavin. What if the pilot does something to his clothes or other belongings while he’s away or sleeping? The only reason he’s not worried about something happening to himself is because he’s a relatively light sleeper, but even then…

    “Why the hell have you two been sharing a room for so long? I understand sharing as children, but two adult brothers? You’re supposed to be young prodigies, so your what, 25? 26? That’s around how old Anderson and Fowler went on their first mission–”

    He turns to Gavin as he explains, “We were training to be pilots together. We can’t mourn or wish for separate rooms or more privacy if we never had it in the first place. And Connor and I are 23.”

    “Jesus christ. What the fuck.”

    Ritch tilts his head. “It’s sound logic.”

    Gavin looks at him like he’s growing a second head. “No the fuck it isn’t! And what the hell do you mean you’re 23? The legal age is 25–”

    “Nope! Okay, take this conversation outta my office. If you want to talk about that, do it while Stern is packing or when you’re in your bunker tonight. I’ve already had to sit through this particular talk twice, and I’m not going for thirds.”

    Gavin makes a sound that’s between a huff and a growl and storms out. He somehow manages to slam the door both open and closed, but Ritch tries to ignore this and instead stands and meets the marshal’s eyes.

    “May I show that video to Connor?” He says, pointing to the tablet on the desk, “He may not fully understand otherwise. And he really hasn’t slept anywhere on his own before–”

    Marshal Fowler interrupts with a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be in here for a little while longer. You can grab him and show him this video if you think you really have to.”

    Ritch is already nodding before he finishes speaking.

    “Thank you, Marshal Fowler. I won’t be long, so I won’t hold you up.” He turns and leaves briskly, unable to completely contain whatever this new nervous energy is.

    “Just don’t think you’re gonna get out of this with your brother’s help!” the marshal calls after him.

    Ritch pauses by the door to the hallway to nod in affirmation. He doubts Connor would try to help him anyway, not with Marshal Fowler dealing the punishments and the video as proof. Besides, even if he did want to help, Ritch doubts he could be convincing enough to do anything.

    “Hey, baby face.”

    Ritch sighs to hide a groan and closes his eyes to hide the fact he’s rolling them. It doesn’t matter that Gavin’s tone is softer than Ritch has ever heard it before (though, that isn’t saying much), he just wants to break the news to Connor and process all of this on his own. Unfortunately, however, The sigh is enough of an acknowledgment for Gavin, who then continues talking.

    “Are you really 23 years old? Coulda sworn you were 26.”

    Ritch turns to him lazily, asking, “Why would I lie about my age in front of the marshal?” He starts walking down the hall. “I’m 23 as of a couple of weeks ago.”

    “How the hell did you even get accepted–”

    Ritch spins sharply to meet Gavin’s eyes with stress-induced irritation, and that’s thankfully enough to get the pilot to silence himself.

    “In the light of having to work together for who knows how long, you should also know that Connor and I have spent nearly every day training since we were a little under 11 just so we could become pilots, which is the only reason we were able to bypass the legal age limit and be accepted into this program at 22 years old. I also apologize in advance because that’s also why I will sometimes seem arrogant and cocky about my skills while other times I won’t have a damn clue of what anyone is talking about or referencing to. I don’t mean for either of those things to happen, but that’s what a group of my friends tell me happens anyway, and I have a feeling it will be a major point of irritation for you.”

    Ritch pauses to take a deep breath and calm himself since he was slowly getting worked up the longer he ranted. And that’s what it was, a rant. He’s tired of having those things– maybe also some others that he can’t think of at the moment– being constantly speculated on by other people. It’s exhausting in a way he didn’t expect when he made Connor agree to keep their decade of training a secret. He almost regrets asking Connor to do so, now.

    Gavin stays unnaturally and uncomfortably silent even though Ritch has just given him the perfect opportunity to mouth off back at him. With a small sigh, he turns around to head back to his dorm to fetch Connor and pack his things, but pauses after a step. He looks over his shoulder as he starts explaining.

    “I didn’t tell you this so you’ll treat me differently like everyone else seems to think they need to do. I told you this so you’ll be slightly more prepared for the unpleasant memories I have in my head in the case we enter the drift together. And maybe so you’ll be more likely to let me use your phone or something to look stuff up when I don’t want to ask the other people I hang around.” He faces forward and starts walking again. “See you this evening, water grass. I hope your room is cleared of porn magazines, or whatever it is you normal, adult men stash in their rooms.” He’ll make a small dig at himself if it means any chance of getting things back to normal.

    He hears a scoff. Ritch is glad his back is turned because he can’t quite hide the relieved and pleased smile at the promise of Gavin insulting him; a step closer to to Ritch’s new normal.

    “Fuck you, retch. I don’t buy that kind of shit. You better not bring your books on whatever robotic shit you get off on, though, or I swear to god I’ll burn them all.”

    Ritch hums sarcastically, enjoying the pilot’s grumbling at the lack of a real reply.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor is sitting at his and Hank’s table, picking at his lunch tray absent-mindedly.

    He doesn’t know how to feel about Ritch moving out so soon. Sure, he wrote down in his journal that Ritch would be more compatible with Gavin Reed, but that was more of a note to not even make an attempt with the irritable pilot than an observation of the pair. Although, this certainly makes the weird, insulting conversation they had when Alex went crazy make more sense.

    “Hey Connor.” Hank greets tiredly, a tray of food in his hands. It throws Connor off for a second; he’s usually the one to greet Hank first, not the other way around.

    Connor accepts the distraction from his thoughts with a small smile, nonetheless.

    “Hello Hank. Did you rest well?”

    Hank hums and nods his head once. He actually got restful sleep, then, even if it was only for a couple hours. If he hadn’t, he would have just grunted or tried to glare at him (key word being tried. Hank hasn’t been good at being genuinely mean to him lately, or maybe Connor is just desensitized to it). Besides, he’s pretty sure he saw Hank in his old tennis shoes, rather than the ratty slippers he wears when it’s a particularly bad day.

    North and Markus have let him know that it can be creepy to keep all these small tabs on different people, but studying habits to use to navigate people’s moods has been an important self-taught lesson while co-existing with Amanda and sharing a room with Ritch. Old habits die hard, after all, especially the useful ones.

    “You saw me this morning, didn’t you? Why didn’t you ask me then?” Hank grumbles.

    “Well, we were too busy talking about a variety of things then, so I never got to ask.”

    Hank shakes his head and rolls his eyes not unkindly.

    I wonder what has him in such a good mood today, Connor wonders to himself. He seems less drunk than usual, so he didn’t get another secret stash of alcohol...

    “Yeah yeah. I slept for three good hours. You happy, mom?” Hank takes a large bite of his food.

    Connor pauses before he nibbles on his lasagna, his fork still close to his mouth as he asks without thought, “Are mothers known to ask people how well they slept?”

    Hank pauses at eating his meal and just stares at him. Connor, having the distinct feeling that he said something weird or wrong again, scoops even more food onto his fork and shoves it in his mouth so he can’t give in to his impulse to ramble.

    “Y’know, Connor, sometimes you say things that somehow make me more depressed than I already am, but also make me wanna punch someone at the same time.” he finally takes another bite.

    Connor lowers his head as he swallows. “Sorry.”

    “Not your fault.”

    He frowns. “But you said that I–”

    “And I said it ain’t your fault.” he restates with finality, then sighs. “Mothers are stereotypically known to nag and ask their children about little things, like how they slept, if they’re hurt, if they’ve eaten enough– those kinds of things.” He mumbles something that sounds like “jesus christ” under his breath.

    “Sorry. For being clueless about these things.” he adds when Hank looks like he’s about to snap at Connor for apologizing again. “I’m trying to learn these little things as fast as I can, but it can be hard to do when I don’t have a way to regularly access the internet and the people who do can’t read my mind and tell me what I’m missing.” He finishes with a small, awkward smile.

    Hank nods with a weird mixture of a grimace and a smile then turns back to his food. Connor simultaneously doesn’t mind it and hates it because he desperately needs a distraction, but he doesn’t force Hank to talk any more than he wants to. This is about how long their conversations have been lasting recently. He doesn’t want to move progress backwards just so he can procrastinate thinking about being on his own for who knows how long. Being on his own isn’t even that nerve wracking, not that being without his brother for literally the first time in his life isn’t making him a little nervous, but that alone is manageable. It’s that this is all yet another change that’s happened while he’s been trying to regain stability in his new routine. He’s tired of his entire world being flipped over and over.

    He takes another small bite out of his food, wondering if he should have offered to help Ritch pack. After all, North, Josh, Markus, and Simon all talked about helping each other pack when they moved into their own apartment. He only has to spend a couple seconds thinking about trying to help Ritch when he realizes he would have just gotten in the way and irritated his brother. They didn’t even help each other pack their few belongings when they moved out of Amanda’s manor, why would he want help moving to another hall? Especially since Ritch already seemed tense enough as it was.

    Apparently he’s going to bother Hank more this lunch, after all. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore, but it’s the only thing his brain wants to think about for whatever reason, despite the fact that anything on the topic there was to think about has already been exhausted. He’s just repeating facts and predictions over and over again, and it’s getting annoying.

    Therefore, Connor blurts the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t Ritch or being alone.

    “Do you like dogs?”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    ”Do you like dogs?” What kind of fuckin’ question is that?

    Hank probably looks as surprised and confused as Connor does, if not more. It’s a shock because Hank is supposed to be the surprised one since Connor’s the one who asked the question and he’s also supposed to be the stoic one, the one who doesn’t really let things affect him.

    And why the hell does Connor want to know if he likes dogs, anyway? What brought that up. If Hank has him figured out like he thinks he does, the trainee doesn’t ask unrelated questions. Unimportant, yes, more often than Hank would like, honestly, but never completely unrelated.

    “Yes.” he answers slowly, unsurely. “Why do you need to know?”

    Connor visibly hesitates. “I– I don’t?”

    Well that doesn’t sound like the usual Connor at all. Usually by now he starts rambling about why he needs or wants to know, then backtracks to explain how he came to think about whatever topic that prompted him to ask his question. Normally, when someone rambles like Connor does, Hank vows to get rid of them quickly, but Connor always has a surprisingly logical way of thinking that make his random topic jumps and rambling make sense. The small part of Hank that’s a nosey asshole has always liked it, even if the rest of him only puts up with it at best.

    Hank opens his mouth to ask what he means by “I don’t need to know”, but Connor starts rambling before he can actually say anything.

    “I don’t know. I just, I like the idea of having a pet? Even though I’ve never had one before? Like, I read that some dogs can help with stress and stuff, and I only looked that up because I noticed that someone around here walks around with a bulldog, but I don’t think I’d like one that small? It’d stress me out even more because I’d be afraid of stepping on it–”

    Good god, he’s a fuckin’ mess today, ain’t he? This rambling isn’t making much sense at all. If Hank actually puts thought into Connor’s words it makes sense, but he usually doesn’t have to.

    “What’s your favorite dog, then?” Hank surprises himself by asking.

    Connor’s mouth clicks shut as he freezes.

    “What?” he eventually asks. Apparently that pause wasn’t him thinking about his answer, then. He really is a mess today, huh?

    “You’re rambling about dogs, and you implied you did some research, so what’s your favorite dog breed.”

    As much as Hank wants to tell himself that he just wants Connor to start making sense or stop or slow his rambling, he really is just curious about what the trainee thinks his ideal dog would be. He already said he doesn’t like the idea of having smaller pets, so his taste in dog breeds can’t be horrible. Not that small dogs are bad, but still. 

    “Oh. Well. I haven’t looked too much into breeds, but I liked the way people described Labradors and Golden Retrievers. They’re usually portrayed as being very happy and cuddly dogs, even if they’re also kinda protective and want to eat everything. From what I saw, I don’t think I’d like german shepherds all that much. They have a lot of energy and take a lot of work and I’ve never had a pet, so it might be too much at first, especially in a space like this.” He gestures around the room. “I’d almost want a cat since they can move out of the way quickly if I’m about to step on them and are super soft, but they’re small and–”

    “And they’re usually assholes.” Hank finishes. Although, judging by Connor’s confused expression, that’s not what he was going to say.

    “What?”

    Hank rolls his eyes as he says, “Oh come on, Connor. You can’t tell me you did research on pets and didn’t see that most cats were assholes. There’s no way.”

    “I didn’t really do research on pets in general. Just dogs. I heard– uh–” He falters, then pauses for a moment, obviously contemplating something. “I heard that they can be trained to help comfort people? And as I’m sure a lot people around here know by now, I can be a mess when it comes to people. Like, point me towards a kaiju or fight and I’ll hold my own well, but tell me to have a normal conversation with a few strangers and I’ll probably start internally panicking right there on the spot.” Connor huffs a stressed-sounding laugh and starts picking at his food again.

    Hank can definitely relate to that. God, if it weren’t for Jeff saving his ass at almost every interview and other bull shit gathering in the beginning of their career, he surely would have been put on the back burner instead of front and center like he was. Possibly both of them would have, and if that had happened, there’s no way he would’ve been able to stay here at the base even though he’s a hop and a skip away from being completely useless these days.

    A small part of him thinks he should probably do something about his uselessness, but the rest of him doesn’t see the point. The damage has already been done, enough to the point of no return. And isn’t this a common scenario since he’s met Connor? Some small pieces of his mind suddenly wanting to change how things have been for years for whatever reason.

    Well, several things have already changed around him since these twins arrived, so what’s changing just one more thing among the others, right? He’s having a good day today, anyway, for whatever reason.

    “I– uh…” Hank rubs the back of his neck, “I get that. I grew up with dogs. They help. If they’re trained right, that is.”

    There, once more tiny change. Giving away a bit of personal information where he would usually grunt and glare. Connor’s wide eyes and slightly-dropped jaw is absolutely worth the onslaught of memories of his old dogs; Captain the corgi, Snow the black lab, Lex the tan mutt, and the first and last dog he’s had on his own rather than shared with his family–

    “Have you raised any puppies?” Connor blurts with eyes that are still wide.

    Hank sighs, “Yea, I have. Once. He was a good lug of a dog.”

    Sumo was easily one of the best dogs he’s ever had in his life, mainly because he took in that runt of a sickly pup for a huge discount and got him all healthy himself. He was still a bit small for a Saint Bernard, even when he stopped growing, but he was always a damn smart dog and very loving and protective of Hank, eventually Cole too when he came around...

    “Do you think the people in charge will let me get a dog? A bigger one?”

    Hank raises an eyebrow, mostly glad to have a distraction from that mess of memories, but also curious of what Connor’s getting at.

    “You were serious about the dog thing?”

    “Yes?” Connor tilts his head and frowns.

    Hank didn’t realize that he was being completely serious about that. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think it was serious– Connor rarely brings up unrelated topics– but no one can blame Hank. He hasn’t had a conversation last this long or remain this peaceful in a long time. It’s almost… nice.

    Hank shakes his head as if he can physically remove that last thought from his mind as he back tracks in the conversation a bit. He’s starting to need his own distraction with how weird his own head’s being now.

    “When you say bigger, what do you mean?”

    Thankfully, Connor takes it in stride like he seems to do with most things relating to Hank; there’s little confusion and no hesitation in his answer. Finally, Connor’s getting back to whatever version of normal he is.

    “I’ve seen people walk Labradoodles and Golden Retrievers by our manor before. I don’t think I want anything much smaller than them. I want to be able to hug my dog and I don’t want to hurt them by squeezing too hard or stepping on them. Plus, I read that small dogs can be yappy and can bark more than a lot of larger dogs. I don’t know how true that is, though. I just want something that can help ground me.”

    Hank hums in approval. Even Captain, as well trained and adorable as he was, was prone to barking and yipping a lot when he was excited or wanted attention. It was always cute at first until he wanted to play and everyone had work or school to do. Bigger dogs may take more care, but he prefers them over the small ones, unlike his parents had. Hank turns back to his food and starts eating.

   Just after his second bite is when Hank’s mind (un)helpfully reminds him of the reason why Connor’s been contemplating getting a dog in the first place.

    He always figured that Connor had some type of social anxiety– kind of hard not to tell when the guy puts up with Hank just to get some so-called “peace” during his day– and it’s been clear for weeks now that, while they act amicable enough towards each other when around others, the twins don’t get along as well as people may think. He remembers the epiphany he had about them being like how he and Fowler were towards the end of their stint as pilots.

    But none of that really matters at the moment, or preferably ever.The real question is, would they let Connor have a dog?

    It takes no time at all to come to the conclusion that, yes, they would let him have a dog if it was only dependent on how much good it would do him. In reality, he’ll probably have to find a partner that has had a pet before or something. Maybe they could have him do some kind of personality assessment to see if he actually could handle it? That seems like a thing people have to do to get an animal out here anyway.

    “They might.” Hank shocks himself by speaking aloud.

    “Who might what?” Connor asks, putting his cup down and giving Hank his full attention again. How long had the silence lasted? Almost all of Connor’s food is gone now...

    “The people in charge of whatever that would give you permission to get you a dog. They might let you have one. Not immediately, and probably not until you have a second person to help care for it since you have no experience, but I think you have enough of one if your– what do you guys call ‘em? dip days?–”

    “–Mood dips–”

    “–Yea, that. You get enough of those, which, from what I can tell and what you’ve told me, even an untrained animal could maybe help with. You just gotta prove that you’re responsible enough to take care of it and that you actually need it, which shouldn’t be an issue.” Hank stuffs the last bit of his food in his mouth to keep him from running his damn mouth any longer.

    God, if he’s fucking lonely enough to be talking about nonsense with some trainee, then maybe he could use a dog. Not that they would ever in a million years let him have one; he can barely take care of himself most days, let alone an animal. He has a feeling that even if he did the impossible and cleaned up his act, they still wouldn’t let him have one because of his self-sabotaging history.

    Wow, self-sabotaging. That’s a term he hasn’t heard or used since his bout of therapy years ago. Yet another small change in the flaming wreck that is Hank Anderson’s post-pilot life. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s finally kicked out soon. He doesn’t even know how he’s managed to stay this long in the first place.

    There’s another lengthy pause where Hank finishes his drink, and right as he’s about to start getting up, Connor takes an audible. His head is down and shoulders hunched in the textbook form of hesitance. Considering Hank has already done plenty today that he wouldn’t normally do (namely just having a civil conversation with someone other than himself), he figures it wouldn’t hurt to stick around until Connor can get himself together. He’ll say that today was a weird day if it’s ever brought up, and it wouldn’t even be lying.

    Connor sighs and glances up at where Hank sits, then does a double take as if he wasn’t expecting Hank to be there. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, then clicks shut and his head falls again. Hank feels his own face twist up in a familiar grimace, then starts putting his trash and dishes onto the small tray so it can all be carried away.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

    Connor has apparently used up all of his courage and energy for this conversation and now can’t even look Hank in the eyes and apologize for taking so much of his time today. He doesn’t know exactly why he’s suddenly so uneasy around Hank, but he has a feeling it has to do with his new resolve to get the man to like him enough to maybe, possibly, try going into the drift. Even a single training session, even if it was the bare basics of combat, would please Connor.

    He watches subtly as Hank starts to clear his things and opens his mouth to apologize again, when the only useful words of the therapist he tried yesterday abruptly comes to mind.

    ”The first thing you can try for constant apologizing is stop apologizing and start thanking. Instead of saying sorry for not making sense or for getting something wrong, thank the person you’re with for being patient and trying to understand.”

    Maybe it’s a good thing he’s been stalling. Thanking actually seems easier to do than apologizing right now. Besides, Hank has mentioned multiple times that he doesn’t understand why Connor apologizes so often, and he always acts disgruntled even when he doesn’t say anything about the apology. After a success like today, he doesn’t want to taint the end of it with irritation.

    “Thank you, for listening to me today.” Connor finally manages to say, albeit softly. He clears his throat and forces his voice to go a little louder, “You didn’t have to entertain me today, or ever really, so thank you for doing so.”

    He finally manages to find the strength to look up at Hank, who had just stood up when Connor began thanking him. He now stands very still with something like surprise twinkling in his blue eyes as he seemingly studies Connor. While in this look and posture, Connor can very easily see how much strength and intellect Hank still has hidden under his unkempt hair and old, loose clothing. It only enhances his desire to have Hank be his partner, seeing that he still could very well be a pilot if he had the motivation and drive to.

    Connor realizes with shock that he feels nervous because, not only does he want to have the chance to see if he’s compatible with Hank– to pilot with him if all goes well– he also wants to be one of the reasons that gives the motivation and drive back to Hank.

    He doesn’t know what happened to make Hank this stand-offish with other people, but Connor wants to show Hank that he can put his trust in him and he won’t disappear.

    Connor knows that Ritch would call this hero-worship or hero-complex or something like that, but this feels distinctly different from anything like that. He hasn’t changed his mind on his view of saving people– he is still very aware from personal experience that the only ones who can save people are themselves– but he doesn’t want to just give Hank nudges and reminders every now and then anymore. He wants to help guide him, and maybe in a perfect world, have him guide Connor as well.

    He knows this isn’t a realistic scenario whatsoever, but a guy can still dream and hope, right? No damage done as long as Connor doesn’t actually go meddling. That kind of thing isn’t any of his business, anyway.

    Connor only realizes he’s been staring at Hank this entire time when the ex-pilot’s jaw suddenly tenses. Hank looks down and to the side with a contemplative expression before nodding.

    “Yeah,” he says in an oddly somber way, quickly glancing at Connor with a look he can’t quite read or understand. “No problem.”

    He slowly turns, then starts walking away. Connor follows his movements with just his eyes, curious as to what Hank is feeling or thinking. He walks as if he hadn’t gotten enough good sleep the previous night, but without the various signs of irritation and aggression that always go along with it. Connor takes the last bite of his food as he sees Hank stroll out of the cafeteria.

    As Connor piles up his own lunch dishes on his tray (Is it only lunch still? This day already feels like it’s lasted a year.) he tries to come up with a reason why Hank’s attitude changed so suddenly. Connor didn’t accidentally remind him of something from his past, did he? He hopes not, he thinks as he leaves everything to be washed and exits the food court. The last thing he wants is to be sent a step back before he can actually put effort into getting Hank to trust him. Not that he really knows how he’s going to get the older man to understand that it’s safe to like and trust another human in the first place.

    Maybe he just needs to keep doing what he’s doing, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. Stay on Hank’s side– even when it doesn’t exactly follow protocols– keep talking to him about things and treat him how Connor himself likes to be treated. Treat him like he isn’t a broken mess of a human like he’s gathered everyone else does from the things Hank says or has said to him, because Hank isn’t really broken.

    Maybe it really is enough to be the one person in this entire base that treats him like a normal human being, rather than the broken-down shadow of what was once the one and only Hank Anderson. Thinking of anyone like that is a sure-fire way to alienate someone, even without realizing it. Connor would know, with how often he was placed in Ritch’s shadow under Amanda’s care, and he isn’t almost world-wide famous like Hank was– still mostly is.

    That makes Connor pause with his hand on his and Ritch’s bunker door. He hasn’t thought of Hank as anything more than “Hank, the one guy who doesn’t ask too many questions and newest potential partner” and “Mr. Anderson, the retired pilot who prefers to be left alone” since the first couple of days. He hasn’t thought about what kind of media may be needed or wanted if he somehow successfully gets Hank to partner with him. Not that Hank would partner with him any time soon, if at all, but in this hypothetical, perfect world in his head, there’d probably be a lot of interviews and cameras. There’d probably be just a lot of people asking him “How did you manage to bring the famous Hank Anderson back to the field?”

    He doesn’t like that thought. He doesn’t know how he would answer, or if he’d even answer at all. Maybe if he’s lucky, Hank would step in and help–

    Connor takes half a step into the bunker. Seeing that half of everything that used to be inside is now gone is a harsh reminder that this is the real world. In the real world, he’s going to have to fall asleep without being able to hear Ritch’s breathing to let him know he won’t be alone if he has a nightmare. Ritch rarely ever helped him through nightmares, and Connor doubts he knew how frequent they used to be, but just having another living, breathing being in the room always helped immensely. Just knowing he wasn’t alone but wouldn’t be bothered usually did wonders for getting him out of bed, and why it’s been more difficult to since being here. Here, everyone either leaves him completely alone or bothers him until they leave.

    He turns and exits the bunker even though he hadn’t stepped completely inside yet. He needs to find Markus since he knows a lot of the “community” computers will be taken up by now or will be needed by others for more important things soon. Markus and Simon are the only two people he knows he can ask for their phones for research and have them truly not mind.

    He’s going to at least try to ask about getting a dog, but he wants to do at least some research on what breeds would be best for this kind of environment. Hopefully the more he knows and the more specific he is about his reasoning and options, the more likely whoever would be in charge of allowing Connor to take care of an animal will let him have one.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Heyo! So, funny story I thought I posted this chapter in mid-May? So last week I was reading through it to make the final edits before posting and realized why it was never posted Lol (three characters went wildly out of character for whatever reason 😂). So I rewrote the second half of this chapter, like, 4 times, and I’m still kind of iffy about it because 90% of it is just dog nonsense and people going “what the hell is happening now”, but hopefully it isn’t as filler-y and redundant as I think it is.

Good news, though! Next chapter will have a lot more Gavin and Ritch action! I plan on making most or all of it following those two around. 😄

Well, I think that’s all for now? Your comments/likes/reblogs give me life, so don’t feel shy to talk or ramble to me! 😊 I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter (hopefully the next one will be up within a week or two). Have a good day/night, and stay as safe and healthy as you can! 💕

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #17: Storm

Iris was laughing as she got in the car. “Weather reports say it’s gonna be a big one!”

Caitlyn had just met this woman. This was a ridiculous idea. Chasing a violent thunderstorm had to be the dumbest idea any human ever had, surpassed only by chasing tornados, which apparently Iris also did when she was further west. There was no way in which it was a good idea to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Caitlyn slid into the passenger seat. “Just so you know, I feel like this is probably a dumb idea.”

“Of course it’s a dumb idea!” Iris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Humanity only progresses by having dumb ideas!”

Her laughter, her cheer, was infectious. Iris was nearly six feet tall and easily two hundred eighty pounds, her hair buzzed short and her arms tattooed. She was everything Caitlyn’s mother would have told her to be wary of. She was also sunlight in human form. Her force of personality was blinding, overwhelming, but warm, and it lit up the world.

On the interstate, the miles per hour crossed the 55 line and continued to go up. “Where are we going?” Caitlyn asked. “I mean, yeah, a thunderstorm, but physically where?”

“We’re going south to intercept it. Probably hit it near the Maryland border, so we’ll take the bypass to the wild side of Delaware and follow it down on local roads.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right? It’s just a storm.”

“They’re never just storms, Caity.” Caitlyn could have gone a long time not knowing how Iris was spelling that, but unfortunately, Iris had addressed her by name in the text she’d sent to provide her number and email address. “Storms can kill people. They don’t have to be hurricanes. They knock down trees, they take out the power, they cause accidents. So I hunt them down.”

“That… really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, you’ll see! It’ll be fun, I haven’t had a friend along on one of these trips in a year!”

Iris cut off a tractor trailer, causing the bellow of an air horn behind them. Small wonder no one wanted to go with her. “What happened with the last friend?”

“We broke up. She thought I was reckless! Can you imagine?” The smile Iris briefly flashed at Caitlyn before turning back to the road knew exactly why her ex thought her reckless, and was self-mocking about it.

“No, I can’t imagine it,” Caitlyn said, deadpan.

“But you know I’m reckless and you got in the car with me anyway, so if sometime in the future you say to me, ‘you’re too reckless’, I can say, ‘you knew that about me on the first date.’”

“This is a date?”

Iris’s laughter this time was almost a bark. “Pretty sure it must be! You’re not in love with storm chasing and you don’t like the way I drive, so you must have gotten in the car on the strength of my beauty and charisma, or something.”

“Something,” Caitlyn agreed, though in fact that was exactly why she got in the car. There was no way Iris could be considered beautiful by airbrushed Hollywood standards, but Caitlyn had always thought those women seemed somehow plastic, unreal, and now she knew why. Iris was realer than real, larger than life, and since they’d met and started talking at the mixer less than an hour ago, she’d known she was willing to get in Iris’s car and go anywhere. Including to Maryland to find a thunderstorm.

“You must be looking to add some chaos and recklessness to your life. Every woman who gets in my car is looking for that, or they wouldn’t get in the car.”

“How many women have gotten in your car like that?” Caitlyn asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, only three.” Iris wove in and out of a wolfpack of cars. “Four, now, counting you. I don’t exactly run around luring all the women in with my siren song.” She laughed. “How about you, any ex-girlfriends? Or boyfriends, I don’t judge.”

“One boyfriend when I was fifteen, back before I knew I was a lesbian. One girlfriend. We were together for ten years.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “She thought I was boring. And not very good in bed. She wasn’t rude enough to say it in those words, but I can read between the lines.” Strange; Caitlyn hadn’t told anyone else that, and would normally have thought it oversharing. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was telling Iris, now. It didn’t seem like a great idea to warn a woman you were interested in that your last girlfriend thought you were boring in bed.

“Well, my philosophy is, if your girlfriend is bad in bed, it’s usually because you’re a lousy communicator and you never told her what you wanted, or else you’re a picky picky princess and you have a very narrow range of tolerance for what you like. At least, if she’s a cool human being in the first place, which you seem like you probably are.”

“No, it – she was wilder than me, and she wanted more than I could give.”

“Then it just sounds like you were incompatible,” Iris declared.

She glanced down at her tablet. “Huh. It’s changing course. We’re going to take the highway all the way down, Caity, be faster that way. I think we’ll be able to intersect it at Delaware House.”

“At where?”

“It’s a rest stop on I-95 near the Maryland border. I’m gonna need somewhere to pull over and it’s not a great idea to do that on the highway itself if you have any choice in the matter.”

“What’re you going to do when you catch it?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’m gonna punch it in the nose!” Iris laughed.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Okay, but seriously. You take pictures of them? Do you send them to NOAA or something? What do you do when you catch the storm you’re chasing?”

“You’ll see!”

***

An hour later and they were inside the storm, according to Iris’ tablet, which was set to a live feed of satellite imaging from weather.com or someplace. They’d just crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge, and it was raining hard. The tablet said it was eleven minutes to Delaware House, but that was probably assuming normal highway speed, and despite the rain, Iris was still driving at least 75 miles an hour.

“So you wanna get some food or something after we’re done here? Delaware House has a Popeye’s, we could get fried chicken.”

“Sure, why not.” Caitlyn had spent the past hour talking about herself, which was weird, because usually she was quiet and would hang back in any conversation, and she usually preferred to listen rather than talk. And you’d think Iris’ boisterousness would make it so she’d always be the one talking, but in fact she’d said almost nothing about herself. She’d talked a lot, but mostly questions for Caitlyn, who’d found herself as a result telling Iris her entire life story. “Maybe you can tell me some things about yourself. I feel like I’ve been talking and talking. You must be sick of hearing my voice.”

“I would never get sick of that voice, Caity. You have a lovely voice.”

“Most people don’t think so. They think I’m quiet and monotonous. Or, sometimes, loud and monotonous.”

“Some people have no grasp of subtlety,” Iris said. “Oh, good, the timing’s perfect. Looks like the center of the storm’s going to be passing over here in minutes. If I speed up just a little, we should get to Delaware House in time.”

“Why is the center of the storm so important? Does it look any different than the rest of the storm?”

“Not to most people,” Iris said cryptically, and leaned forward like a race car driver, her foot presumably turning into a block of lead from how the car sped up.

“Uh, aren’t you worried about hydroplaning?” Caitlyn yelled over the sound of the engine revving as they accelerated.

“Water knows better than to do that to me!” Iris yelled back, grinning.

“No, but seriously--!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got the car under control!”

Caitlyn held onto the handle above the car door, awkwardly – it really wasn’t positioned well to be a safety handle – as Iris raced through the storm, only slowing down when she reached Delaware House. She coasted onto the left-side exit and allowed momentum to carry her to the parking lot, only braking once she was there.

As she pulled into a parking spot in the back, she said, “I don’t know if you wanna stay in the car or come out with me, but you can do whatever you like. I gotta get a move on, though, the storm center’s almost here.”

“I’ll stay in the car for now,” Caitlyn said, wondering if all of this was a terrible mistake. Maybe Iris was right and she was looking to add some recklessness and chaos to her life, but maybe this was too much.

“Okay.” Iris got out of the car, and looked up at the sky. The rain was coming down in sheets so thick, it was hard for Caitlyn to actually see her through it – she was a blob of color, not a clear human shape. But she heard Iris’ voice with surprising clarity.

“OKAY, MOTHERFUCKER! IT’S ON, NOW!”

What.

“COME ON, YOU LITTLE PISS TRICKLE! YOU CALL THIS RAIN, MY MOMMA DUMPED MORE WATER DOWN MY THROAT WHEN SHE GAVE ME A SIPPY CUP TO DRINK FROM! GET OVER HERE, YOU COWARD, AND FACE ME!”

The wind moaned, making the car creak.

“YEAH? YOU WANNA SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU DUMB SHIT? COME ON! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

And then, as Caitlyn stared in absolute shock, Iris punched the sky… and the sky reeled, the clouds parting for a bare moment, before thunder rolled and lightning slammed down, hitting a nearby tree.

“YOUR AIM’S WORSE THAN A BLIND GRANDMA THROWING A DISHRAG! THINK YOU CAN HIT ME? COME AT ME, FUCKER!” Iris punched the clouds again – impossibly, because they were however many thousands of feet in the air and she was here on the ground, but the clouds roiled as if they’d been struck. Then she went to the ground, rolling, and came up to a sitting position next to an oversized pickup truck. Lightning struck the truck, and Iris sprang up and swung her fists at the sky again, her body language suggesting that she was putting all of her body’s force into the punches, and meeting resistance. One, two, three punches, and a gap opened in the clouds and stayed that way. Lightning came down again and hit a tree in the picnic area.

“OH, YEAH! GOTCHA ON THE ROPES NOW! GIVE IT UP, YOU SUMBITCH, IT’S ALL OVER FOR YOU!”

She swung her left arm out in a blocking gesture. A moment later, lightning struck inches away from the arm. Iris followed up with multiple punches, clearing more of the sky. The rain had significantly diminished, making it much easier to see what she was doing. “GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN SKY, MOFO! DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE HERE? WELL, DID I, DIPSHIT?” More punches, more clear sky. Another lightning strike, and an increase in the wind, blowing hard enough that the car actually rocked in it. And then Iris swung her arm out against the wind, and it dissipated. “THAT’S RIGHT, YOU LITTLE SHIT CREEK, WHO’S YOUR MAMA? WHO’S YOUR MAMA? I’M THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING RAINBOW, KIDDO, NOW GET BACK TO YOUR FUCKING PLAYPEN AND DRINK YOUR BABA!”

There was, in fact, a rainbow glittering in the sky, as the storm turned to mist.

Iris pulled the car door open. She was completely drenched. “Well, I kicked that thing’s ass,” she reported gleefully. “You up for fried chicken?”

“How – how did you –”

“Hon. You are the Greek mythology expert. How do you think? I said I was the goddamn rainbow, and I know you heard me, right?” She grinned widely.

“Iris was the goddess of the rainbow, and messenger of the gods,” Caitlyn said, mechanically, “but there was nothing in mythology about her fighting storms.”

“That’s because the Greeks were a bunch of patriarchal assholes. They saw Zeus throw some lightning bolts around one time and decided he was the god of storms. Never thought about the fact that rainbows come out after a storm’s over, did they?” She took a step back from the car and shook herself, like a dog, sending raindrops flying everywhere. “So. Do I drive you home now or do we go get fried chicken?”

Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Fried chicken. I have so many questions.”

“And I’ve got so many answers, so this will work out great!”

The storm had turned into nothing but a misty drizzle. Caitlyn got out of the car and followed Iris toward the glassed-in building that was Delaware House.

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

While this is far from the only story idea of mine inspired by it, I definitely do have to credit “Fear for the Storm” by Jessica Best, from the podcast series “Starship Iris”, for inspiring this story. Also the Holly Near song “How Bold”, but with a happier outcome.