#<hadn't played a fighting game before six weeks ago

[ghelgheli]

good luck at the fighting game tournament!

thank you! I lost badly 🐐

[kitashousewife]

do better than this

an: this is based off of the song tampa by LANY. i am a massive lany fan and i decided i might write some fics based off of their songs, so this is the first one!

pairing: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: angst, angst to fluff, swearing, cheating, flying, fighting, fluffy ending, childhood friends to lovers as well, the first part is a lot of atsumu focused story

wc: 1.5k

-

airports, especially late at night, are one of the most special places to be. quiet, empty, full of travelers whose stories you don't know. the gates and hallways are full of adventure and wonder. it is a very unique and lovely experience.

except, of course, when you're heartbroken.

angry and hurt are the two best words to describe how atsumu is feeling right now. MSBY had finally wrapped up their couple week long trip in the US, 4 games total with lots of practice matches, interviews, and events. the whirlwind experience finally coming to a close in the state of Florida, where the weather was warm and sticky and the beaches were sandy and blue. the team was very successful and everyone had a great time.

atsumu was having a wonderful time as well. this was one of his favorite parts of playing: seeing the world and going up against immensely talented players.

earlier tonight, after zipping up his last suitcase, atsumu was sent a couple photos that he wish he hadn't seen.

his girlfriend of two years, pictured in a club with what looked to be one of her co-workers that he recognized. no big deal. except the next set of photos showed his girlfriend in his lap, then kissing him with the other male's hands all over her body.

the worst part? atsumu isn't surprised.

this isn't the first time. the first six months were great, some of the best moments he's ever had in his life. the sweetest memories of all took place in the beginnings of his relationship. after that, though, things started to go downhill. small fights and disagreements lead to blow ups and yelling matches. doubts and worries lead to trust issues. his love and passion for volleyball, once a light of his life, had been painted over and turned into the villian. atsumu almost believed that his life's work was the cause of all of the issues in his relationship.

waiting in line at security gave him plenty of time to think, even though he didn't want to. slipping off his shoes and grabbing a bin, atsumu thought back to the most recent fight.

his girlfriend, if you could even call her that now, yelled at him before he left two weeks ago. shouts of all you care about is that stupid sport and you don't care about me like you used to filled the room. feeling defensive, atsumu tried to explain himself and fight for himself. bringing up moments he took time off every month to spend with her, sending her flowers and gifts while he was away, taking the time to call her as well, even though she wouldn't pick up. the fight ended in her storming out of his apartment, the slam of a door the only form of goodbye he received from her.

he wasn't a bad boyfriend. he knew that deep down. but her words cut deep, almost convincing him that he was the reason.

walking to the gate with his head down, atsumu feels empty. what do i do now? staring at the photos over and over, hoping that he made the images up in his mind, his head feels like it's spinning. he gets it, he travels a lot. he has a lot of practices, trainings, camps, and commitments. but he always made time for her.

hearing the approval to board, atsumu finally decides on what to say. hitting send, atsumu shoves his phone back in his pocket with a shake of his head.

i'm boarding now, but i think it would be best if we called when i land.

-

the flight was nothing special. atsumu tried to sleep, tried to watch a movie, anything to distract himself from the shitshow of a phone call that was bound to happen when he landed.

sure enough, his prediction was correct.

as soon as he landed, he sent her a text to let her know he arrived, to which she responded with enthusiasm, unknowing to the fact that he knows everything.

atsumu!! ❤️

the following hour of his commute back to his apartment was full of angry words, shouting at his dashboard while he drove through the city, finally pulling into his apartment and slamming his door shut. like most of their fights, it was filled with atsumu apologizing for nothing, trying to come up with solutions to convince himself to stay, all for them to lead nowhere.

in the end, she was the one to end things with him.

-

it was about dinner time when your phone rang. turning off the stove and answering, you set your phone on speaker as you serve yourself some food.

"tsum, welcome home!"

throwing himself on his couch, he smiles for the first time in what feels like years.

"why thank you, i'm glad to be here."

sitting down to eat, your heart beats a little quicker at the sound of his voice. you know you shouldn't, you know he has someone, but you can't help but feel this way. pushing your emotions down, you distract yourself by hearing about his travels.

"i'm glad you're here, too." wincing at how forward you sound, you quickly try to cover it up by asking another question.

"okay, tell me everything, and don't leave out a single detail."

the next fifteen minutes are filled with stories of matches, games, sites he saw, the cities he got to see, and how it felt to be somewhere new. both of you laugh as he recalled a couple stories from their times in Las Vegas, but the stories seemed to wrap up suddenly.

"and then we got to Florida," a long pause. "...and then it was all over and I came home! so, a pretty good trip overall," the last part mumbled, atsumu feels his heart break a little.

"what? you can't just leave out an entire state, 'tsum. tell me, I want to hear!"

another long pause, followed by a loud sigh.

"well, the activities itself were great. i had a lot of fun," smiling, he recalls visiting the beach with his teammates. the smile disappears when the memory fades. "um, well-"

sighing yourself, you pinch your nose. in annoyance or worry, you're not sure. you know exactly what he's going to say.

"what did she do, atsumu?"

putting you on speaker, atsumu walks to his kitchen to grab a snack for himself. shutting the cabinet a little too hard, you finally get a response.

"she cheated, she fucking cheated and with that bastard she works with, too. i should have known, maybe i-" he sucks his teeth and shakes his head, putting the bag of chips he grabbed on to the counter. "nevermind."

you know what he was going to say.

"atsumu. you didn't do anything wrong."

his chest feels tight. "yeah, maybe,"

"i'm serious. you've done nothing wrong. this isn't your fault. you aren't responsible for her actions."

silence fills the line, followed by a couple sniffles that atsumu hoped you wouldn't hear.

he swallows a sob. "yeah, i can do better than this, but maybe i deserve it?" tears fall down his cheeks. "i am busy, i'm gone all the time, and-"

"no."

he sniffs. "no?"

there's silence from your end this time. "atsumu, you deserve so much more. you did so much for her, you spent every ounce of extra time on her, and then some. she didn't value you or your time, she didn't love you like i-" stopping before you get any further, you take a deep breath. "like you deserve, 'tsum. i mean it."

his ears perk up at your last sentence. like i?

he never admitted it outloud, maybe to osamu, but he has always loved you. you've known each other for years, but he never thought you were interested. part of the reason he started dating was to forget about you, trying to distract himself. he really, really hopes he heard you correctly.

"woah, wait a second," he stumbles around, putting his shoes on and grabbing his keys in a hurry, wiping the left over tears off his face. "what did ya say?"

your stomach flips. "i said, you deserve to be loved," you cringe. there's no way he heard me, right?

he's driving now, that much you can tell. he still hasn't said anything in response. "'tsum, you still there?" the sound of automatic doors ring through the speaker.

"yeah, just got hungry and needed a snack," he lies. hes grabbing a couple things, but not for himself. "you're home, right?"

you sit up. "yeah, i am...why?"

the crinkle of cellophane and the shut of a car door peak your interest, but atsumu isn't clearing things up at all.

"could i come see ya? i just-i really want to see ya. i missed ya, after all."

still confused, but eager to see him after a couple weeks, you agree. "sure, 'tsum. i'll be here."

"great, see ya soon." atsumu hangs up, and places the wrapped flowers carefully in his passenger seat, along with a couple other things that he got for you while he was gone.

for the first time in two years, atsumu is buying flowers for someone he truly loves.

he only hopes that you love him, too.

[vivaamor]

out of tune

warnings: swearing, tiny bit of angst if u squint, not proof read

relationships: eddie munson/ female reader

summary: eddie plays a song for you & you get the reassurance you need

"thanks for lunch, mom," you say into the phone, sitting on the edge of yours and eddie's bed. you looked around the room, smiling to yourself. you foot over the red stain on the grey carpet, remembering when eddie spilled red wine on it the first night you moved in. that was about six months ago. your eyes wander from the carpet to the guitar in the corner, the very guitar he'd played for you the first night you spent over at his uncle's place. things were so much simpler then.

"honey?" your mom's voice rings through your ear, wondering if the phone call accidentally disconnected because of your silence. "i have to get going, i need to go to the grocery store."

"okay, mom. love you." you hang up the phone, walking around the bedroom and just taking a minute to look at everything. eddie was at work, he had to work saturday again, after promising the first time would be the only time. things had been so stressful lately, he'd been working like a mad man at a job he hated, while you had one you loved. being a teacher could be challenging sometimes, but it was absolutely worth it.

your work schedules and how overly irritated and exhausted eddie would be once he got off work had challenged your relationship for sure. you'd been getting into small arguments, where half the time you didn't even remember what you were fighting about. no matter how small it was, you hated fighting with eddie. he still had another three hours until he would be home and you missed him.

you walk to his guitar and pick it up from the stand it rested on, collecting dust because he hadn't had any time to play for you recently. you sit on the bed, chuckling at the smudge from his fingertips on the shiny, black exterior. you couldn't help but grin, reimagining his face when you played so awfully out of tune when he attempted to teach you some chords. you lacked the musical bone in the relationship and no matter how much you tried, you could never remember the lesson from before. but that was how your relationship felt- out of tune.

you're so lost in your thoughts you don't even hear the front door open and shut, or eddie keys to the van drop on the kitchen counter. you only realize he's home when his voice pulls you from your thoughts. "hi, pretty girl." you lift your head to meet his tired smile. "i got off early after claiming i had some serious disease that i need to sleep off." he jokes, nearing you by the bed.

"eddie." you smile back, taking his hand in yours. you look down at the guitar and frown, standing up to put the guitar back in its place when he tugs on your hand.

"want me to play for you?" you nod, sitting back down and he sits beside you, kissing your temple before taking the guitar from you. he grins to himself and begins strumming at the strings, starting to play what he knows very well is your favorite metallica song-- nothing else matters.

he played for you all the time in high school. he would always bring his guitar and amp to hellfire and once everyone left, the two of you would hang back for another hour. it was just that one hour you would spend together twice a week that made you know the real eddie. it was in that very room you used to play the game where you told eddie you loved him for the first time and where you two shared your first kiss together.

so close, no matter how far

couldn't be much more from the heart

forever trusting who we are

and nothin' else matters

trust i seek and i find in you

every day for us something new

open mind for a different view

and nothin' else matters

you can't help the frown that beckons your lips. here he was, your boyfriend of three years, singing for you, and every doubtful thought crowded your mind while he played your favorite song. he abruptly stops, putting the guitar down behind himself on the bed. taking your chin in his hand, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips. you look at him with soft eyes, your small hand taken in his. "i love you, you know that." he finally speaks, pulling you closer to him.

"i know," you nod slowly, "i love you, too."

"and with what we have, it's not gonna be perfect, sweetheart." he tells you as if you don't already know. "sometimes we're gonna fight. hell, scream if you need to."

you shake your head, "i don't care about the stupid fights. i'm not worried about that, i'll worry when we stop fighting."

"then what's on your mind?" he pulls your legs over his lap, rubbing his hand over them softly.

"are you happy?" you ask, finally looking at him seriously. "and don't give me some honey-sweet, bull shit answer. i mean, you barely see your uncle anymore. shit, you barely see me and when you do, it's not like it used to be. you're stuck at a job you hate so we can afford the bare minimum."

he waves his hand in front of your face, "i'm happy, my sweet girl." he runs his free hand through his curly hair. "does right now suck? hell fucking yeah it does." he wiggles his eyebrows at you, earning himself a giggle from you. "but when i come home from a shitty day, you're here. you're on the phone, watching tv, cleaning, whatever the hell... i come home and maybe we go to bed or we fight, but i don't care. i honestly don't."

"what do you mean?"

"just seeing you, walking around our own place that we have together, it's enough to make me die a happy man. do i hate my job? it blows. is it worth it for now, so we can pay our bills? of course it is."

you sigh, "i don't want you miserable just so i can be happy and have a job i like."

"a job you love." he corrects you, booping the end of your nose with his finger. "and i am perfectly fine working a god awful office job until we have the money so i can quit and go somewhere else, if in the meantime you can love what you do." he pulls you by the legs until you're sat on his lap. "i love you, sweetheart."

"i love you, eds." you lean in and kiss him, and you kiss him with everything you have in you.

[avocado-frog]

Dahlia. 10

sorry about the spam posting i'm trying to get caught up. curses to everyone who voted "update dahlia" on the make me write tag

I keep posting these and forgetting the link lmao -Ao3 link

-It's the Leo backstory chapter!!

-I spent a whole goddamn hour trying to make sure this lined up with the timeline

Segment one- 7/29/2008 -The twins are five, the triplets are about three months old -Using Leo's full name felt like I was writing an entirely different character -My confession is that this chapter was written back in May, and I didn't learn to play go fish until two weeks ago when a six-year-old beat me four times (she was cheating) -It's edited to make it less obvious that I didn't know how to play go fish when I was writing it. I thought it was like solitaire?? As if a game for little kids would be like solitaire ever at all?? -Olivia>>

Segment two- 4/2/2009 -Twins are six now -They just got stolen -"She could count on one hand the amount of times she'd even seen her aunt, and that was impressive, because she could count really high up." Baby Leo <3 she can count to like 80

Segment three- 4/5/2009 -Logan and Lily!!! Love them -Logan's probably around 13, Lily's 5 -The way I forgot Logan had a sister -The way I also forgot that Lily's full name is Lilith

Segment four- 4/10/2009 -OH THANK GOD it was physically paining me to write Leonie -(chewing on drywall) they gave each other nicknames and they kept those nicknames even though Leo forgot everything else and-

Segment five- 5/14/2011 -The twins are eight now -Logan, Jasmine, and Lily all left and if the twins hadn't forgotten then they'd have grown up thinking that they were dead anyways :(

Segment six- 5/30/2011 -Leo was out for like two weeks -Emily (derogatory) -Oh No

Segment seven- 9/29/2011 -The twins are color-coded red and green -THEY'RE BOTH AFRAID OF LOUD NOISES AND THEY DONT REMEMBER WHY GEGEGRGRGGR -Autistic Leo real -So it's canon that their magic develops after a big stress and Leo's was after one day at school and honestly-

Segment eight- 10/23/2011 -Their ninth birthday!! -Kai debut the littlest guy ever -He's like. eight i think

Segment nine- 10/17/2013 -It says age ten but it's a week before they're eleven -Leo got into a fight for attention -emily for the love of god pay attention to your hostage she's about to develop a personality disorder -Marcy's brief cameo <3

Segment ten- 11/19/2014 -The twins are twelve -The twins are no longer friends also -Leo almost gets arrested -"That was what she wanted, wasn't it?" NO -How obvious is it that i don't know card games

Segment eleven- 6/17/2016 -The twins are thirteen -Girl you GOT him!! he's fucking dead!! that was unnecessary!!! -ASPD Leo is real

Segment twelve- 10/31/2018 -They're sixteen -Forget-me-not canon

Segment thirteen- 1/14/2019 -Leo's dynamic with the kids >>> -"Snowmen, I'm familiar with the concept." -Leo says "hold your horses" -ELLIOT!! Alive and well!! He demands apple cider -Sam wants to be like his sister :((

Segment fourteen- 3/20/2019 -I'M SORRY!! -Leo's beef with Jaxon sort of explained -Leo's just trying to find someone to blame

Segment fifteen- 4/20/2019 -The fight :( -Leo leaves

Segment sixteen- 5/11/2019 -Ryan's nightmare but Leo is too Leo to know what to do about it -"Silently, she cursed the weather for doing this to him."

Segment seventeen- 10/23/2019 -Coincidentally the seventeenth segment is the twin's seventeenth birthday -Hope you're excited for the Cass backstory chapter when I parallel the shit out of this

Segment eighteen- 6/14/2020 -They're still only seventeen -Anyways: the present -Dylan and Ryan are basically possessed by Elliot right now so that's cool -Leo has to deal with it tho -There was a deleted segment where Leo used to play softball to explain the baseball bat she uses, but I don't know shit about softball and didn't want to try. Anyways, Leo played softball in 7th grade -Leo finally calls the others, does not mention the part about the kids being possessed

[merge-conflict]

I am here to interrogate you about Val/Goro for the Ship Questions: Pre-Relationship: 1, 7 | General: 2, 4 :3c

Tyyyy for asking, I did not mean to schedule this one so close to the last haha. Questions are here

Pre-Relationship 1: How did they first meet?

They did meet in the canonical way– which is to say Val crawled partway out of the dump and Goro took her the rest of the way. Important caveat that she 100% was deliriously info-dumping about the elite squad that almost killed them while they were both bleeding out and Goro was pleading with her to call someone. (Love that particular dialog option I gotta say)

Their first real conversation at the diner, Val was pleasantly surprised to find that not only did Goro not want to kill her but he was surprisingly practical about his desire to seek vengeance. She agreed to help him in large part because looking at him made her think of where she'd been sitting six months ago. After a week or so on his own in NC he was mostly impressed by her will to live and whatever it was that had her ripperdoc willing to go out of his way to keep her alive on the strength of an IOU.

Pre-Relationship 7: What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Hoooo, there's a lot of ways to think about this one, but the most obvious is to say that Yorinobu's rebellion didn't play out at all. In that universe, I think Val would eventually transition out of merc work and start her own tech repair and supply business with Jackie. If she managed to survive through that she'd probably end up picking some sort of rivalry which keeps her busy and motivated. Maybe meet Rogue and actually get along with her, because she's good at nothing if not networking and building a rep.

Barring Saburo walking into any other dangerous situations and then telling him to get lost, Goro would eventually successfully end his tenure as Saburo's bodyguard and probably end up in semi-retirement as a teacher. Possibly strike up an old flame in his old age (a fellow elite soldier, haven't decided on a name for him). So essentially, they'd both get on alright without the other, but I think Val would suffer a little more from trust issues and rely a lot on Jackie as her sole close connection.

(I hope that's not a boring answer, but I like the thought that even though they were thrown together, they don't need each other, and they work because they choose to.)

Other answers under the cut:

General: 2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

I'll admit I hadn't thought about this, because canonically they don't have any free time during game events, and then afterwards they're hiding their relationship because they're not supposed to have one.

But I'd have to say they would go out for a romantic dinner dressed to the nines, take turns swapping stories, eat excellent food and get a little sloppy drunk, before indulging other appetites. By that point they've got all the other romantic bases covered (blindly loyal sacrifice, tending bloody wounds, killing for love, engaging in mutual trolling) so all that's left is to enjoy parading each other around with incredible that's my wife! (gender neutral) energy.

Funnier answer: if we're counting by quality time spent together outside of work (i.e. Goro's missions), it would be that time Val got stabbed in a knife fight with a scav and Goro showed up to help her clean out the rest of the den.

General 4: Were they each other's first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

For both they are the first relationship where they recognized they had the same way of showing care, which is to say absurdly large acts of self-sacrifice and devotion. Recognizing and respecting that urge in each other is a very important part of why they become inseparable so quickly. (They need someone to take care of!)

[yamanorakuen]

Obey Me! -cast as Taylor Swift songs (1989 & Red edition)

Remember how I made the version with Evermore, Folklore, Lover and Reputation? Well, here's a version with 1989 and Red as an homage to Red (Taylor's version) that I've been listening to a LOT after it's release a few weeks ago.

Read my choices & lyrics that I thought justify my choices down below!

1989

Lucifer: Blank Space

"New money, suit and tie

I can read you like a magazine

Ain't it funny, rumors fly?

And I know you've heard about me"

༻✧༺

Mammon: Style

"You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like

And when we go crashing down we come back every time

'Cause we never go out of style"

༻✧༺

Leviathan: How You Get The Girl

"Stand there like a ghost

Shaking from the rain, rain

She'll open up the door and say, 'Are you insane?'

Say it's been a long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want"

༻✧༺

Satan: Wonderland

"Didn't they tell us not to rush into things?

Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?

Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?"

༻✧༺

Asmodeus: New Romantics

"Baby, we're the new romantics

Come on, come along with me!

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly!

We're too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet"

༻✧༺

Beelzebub: You Are In Love

"Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt, he keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts"

༻✧༺

Belphegor: Bad Blood

"Band-aids don't fix bullet holes

You say sorry just for show

If you live like that, you live with ghosts

If you love like what, blood runs cold"

༻✧༺

Diavolo: Wildest Dreams

"He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is"

༻✧༺

Barbatos: Clean

"The drought was the very worst

When the flowers we'd grown together died of thirst

It was months and months of back and forth

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore"

༻✧༺

Simeon: This Love

"Clear blue water

High tide came and brought you in

And I could go on and on, on and on and I will

Skies grew darker

Currents swept you out again

And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone"

༻✧༺

Luke: Welcome to New York

"Walking through a crowd, the village is aglow

Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats

Everybody here wanted something more

Searching for a sound we hadn't heard before"

༻✧༺

Solomon: Shake It Off

"I'm dancing on my own

I make the moves up as I go

And that's what they don't know"

Red (Taylor's version):

Lucifer: All Too Well

"And you call me up again

Just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well"

༻✧༺

Mammon: Red

"Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly

Loving him is like trying to change your mind once you're already

Flying through the free fall

Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all"

༻✧༺

Leviathan: Message In A Bottle

"But now you're so far away and I'm down

Feeling like a face in the crowd

I'm reaching for you, terrified"

༻✧༺

Satan: State of Grace

"This is a state of grace

This is a worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You're my Achilles heel

This is the golden age

Of something good and right and real"

༻✧༺

Asmodeus: I Knew You Were Trouble

"And the saddest fear

Comes creeping in

That you never loved me

Or her, or anyone, or anything"

༻✧༺

Beelzebub: Stay Stay Stay

"Before you I'd only dated self-indulgent takers

Who took all of their problems out on me

But you carry me groceries and now I'm always laughing

I love you because you have given me

No choice but to stay, stay, stay"

༻✧༺

Belphegor: Nothing New

"And my cheeks are growing tired

From turning red and faking smiles

Are we only biding time 'til I lose your attention

And someone else lights up the room?

People love an ingénue"

༻✧༺

Diavolo: I Bet You Think About Me

"Now you're out in the world, searching for your soul

Scared not to be hip, scared to get old

Chasing make-believe status, last time you felt free

Was when none of that shit mattered 'cause you were with me"

༻✧༺

Barbatos: Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

"In dreams, I meet you in warm conversation

And we both wake in lonely beds, different cities

And time is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you've got your demons

And darling, they all look like me"

༻✧༺

Simeon: The Very First Night

"I wish I could fly

I'd pick you up and we'd go back in time

I write this in the sky

I miss you like it was the very first night"

༻✧༺

Luke: Forever Winter

I'd fall to pieces on the floor

If you weren't around

Too young to know it gets better

I'll be your summer sun for you forever

Forever winter if you go"

༻✧༺

Solomon: Treacherous

"All we are is skin and bone

Trained to get along

Forever going with the flow

But you're friction"

༻✧༺

A/N: Thank you for reading! I might make the last batch of these (Debut, Fearless and Speak Now) if there's any interest or when Speak Now (TV) or Debut (TV) drops. I also ~may~ have written a post with the Obey Me! -cast as lines from All Too Well (10 minute version) (Taylor's version) (From the vault) soo.. I may post it at some point too. Also if you have any ideas for headcanons and imagines, please tell me! :)

[allegra-writes]

“Teeth”

Peter Parker x Anti-hero!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, chocking kink, rough sex.

Part XI of the "Mercy" series

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

"Something in the way you look into my eyes... I don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive"

Teeth - 5SOS

Peter was going to be sick.

He hadn't felt sick in years, ever since the spider bite, but he was sure his stomach was about to turn any second now.

It was all in front of his eyes, the darkest, most confidential of S.H.I.E.L.D's files. Project Lazarus. Nick Fury’s  unethical, insane scheme to get the original six back together, using the kree blood running through Captain Marvel's veins to reanimate the fallen ones. And you had been the ultimate guinea pig, the final test.

And Peter had been the one to authorize it.

The name on the files was your father's, but Bucky had only consented after Peter…

He ran, barely making it to the ensuite on time to empty the contents of his stomach into the sink. He let the water flow to wash the foul liquid away.

That wasn't even the worst. Oh no, that was barely the top of the iceberg. The most horrifying part, the part that was going to give him nightmares for weeks, was that protocol. The T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol, a machine wired directly to your brain, with your skull splitted open, erasing everything Fury considered you didn't need. There were even fucking reports about how much more docile and happier you were after forgetting your mother's death, and your subsequent murderous rampage.

And at least half of it was bullshit. They had told you about Natasha the very same day you had woken up, asking for your mommy in russian, breaking their hearts in a thousand pieces once they understood what was going on.

He sprayed some cold water on his face, trying to regain his composure. As bad as he was feeling, it was probably nothing compared to what you were feeling. He had to get it together, for you. He rinsed his mouth and dried his face with a towel, stepping back into his room.

But you were nowhere to be found.  

His heart fell to his stomach. He scrambled to put on a pair of sweats, cursing the valuable seconds he was wasting, before running at breakneck speed through hallways and flights of stairs until he reached your floor. By the time he barged into your room, he was out of breath.

“No” It came out as a whisper, a barely audible gasp at finding his worst suspicions confirmed.

There you were, fully dressed, a backpack open on your bed with a few clothes thrown haphazardly inside as you raided your bedroom for weapons.

“No” He repeated, more firmly, when you passed by him. He was met with more silence, as you took your small Glock 42 and checked the magazine. You wouldn't even look at him. You couldn't. You knew that if you as much as met those warm coffee eyes, bright with tears, you wouldn't be able to bring yourself to do it, you wouldn't be able to leave him.

And you had to. Peter didn't know, you were certain, he didn't mean to do so, but he was playing right into the role director Fury intended for him to play: A distraction and an anchor, something to stay for, to keep you loyal to the avengers.

Just like Hydra had used your father to keep your mother in line once, a long time ago. She had told you that story, told you about your dad's face, frozen inside a cryogenic pod. And she had taught you, with tears in her eyes, the motto you had lived your whole life by, up until now: ‘Your first and most important loyalty, must always be to yourself’

You counted your bullets, and tucked the gun into the thigh holster under your skirt. It was time to honor that law.

Peter stepped in front of you, halting your advances,

“Y/n, stop, talk to me, please!” He reached for your hand, but you avoided his touch. You knew what would happen if he touched you.

“It’s over, Peter” Your voice washed over him like a bucket of cold water, chilling him to the bone, “I’m leaving”

The words knocked all the air out of his chest, like a physical blow. He knew your first reaction would be to fly, your mother had raised you your whole life to make self preservation your first instinct. He had feared you would leave him behind.

But somehow, Peter had never pictured you would want to leave him.

He could feel his eyes burn, smell the salt of his own tears. He choked on the question that wanted to escape his throat, it was useless questioning why: He was still pretty much a stranger to you, all of them were. You weren't one to trust easily in strangers, and you had just been proven right. But comprehending didn't make it any less painful.

“Take me with you” He was conscious of the futility of his request as he said the words but he had to try. He had to.

You stopped your packing, meeting his eyes. But he found nothing in yours. No warmth. No trust. Nothing but the cold fire of your barely contained rage, algid and terrible. Peter had seen that look before, back in a barn on a stormy night. He regretted, for what was probably the thousandth time, not running away with you then, instead of asking you to stay with him.

“I was there” He tried again, “the night you tried to kill Clint”

“I know” You interrupted him, “I just read the file”

“I asked you to stay that night. You wanted to run and instead of asking you to let me go with you, I asked you to stay. I’m not making that mistake again. Let me go with you”

Unknowingly, Peter had just confirmed your worst suspicions. He had been the key piece in Fury's chess game from the very beginning, sending him after you over and over again despite his failures, he had set the bait. And you had fallen straight into his trap, forgetting all your training, giving up your own freedom… for a boy.

You weren’t making the same mistake twice either.

“Goodbye, Peter.”

He watched as in slow motion how you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, realizing then that the only way to stop you from leaving was to physically stop you. Desperate, he let his instinct take over in one last attempt to keep you there.

He tackled you, your body hitting the floor hard, all the air knocked out of your lungs at once. Your wrists hurt where his hands pinned them to the floor as he straddled you, a feeling of deja vu washing over him as he looked down at your furious face, but you weren't the same girl he had webbed down to the faded hardwood of that dingy apartment almost a year ago. Not anymore. Six months of training with the winter soldier, the handler of widows himself, had made you even deadlier than you already were.

You tangled your ankle around one of his own, bucking your hips up, pushing him out of balance as you rolled him over, landing on top of him, hand firm around his throat.

“You think you can stop me?” There was venom, and contempt, in your words, his spider sense flaring up. But tried as he may, he couldn't move, couldn't even look away. He was a fly, trapped and defenseless, in your web. He had always been. How foolish and conceited of him, calling himself Spider-man, when there, laying underneath you, he finally understood what a real predator was.

“You think you can get on top of me? Think you can dominate me, boy?” You felt Peter's gulp under your palm. It was tempting, so tempting…

So you squeezed, just a little, watching his pupils blow wide with adrenaline, equal parts crisp trepidation and desire.  Peter’s head was spinning, and it wasn't just from lack of oxygen. He didn't know the exact moment you went from fighting him to claw at his clothes, but you were, and he was aiding you, ripping yet another one of your panties, another casualty in the warfare of your relationship, guiding your hips down as you braced yourself, one hand on the floor, the other one still around his neck. Unlike him, who was hard from the moment he felt your hands on his skin, you weren't ready, nowhere near wet enough, but you didn't care: The slight burn grounded you, made everything sharper. This wasn't about placer anyway, this was a punishment. For Peter, for making you feel the things he made you feel; and for you, for allowing them to grow and fester in your heart.

He seemed to like it, though, hips bucking to meet yours, breathless sounds leaving his lips as you fucked yourself on his cock.

“You like this, don't you?” You marveled, “Like it rough, boy?”

It wasn't your old ‘baby boy’, the one that belied your tenderness as you did the most depraved things to him. But it was close enough to get his heart racing.

“Pathetic” You decided, as you felt his pulse pick up under your hand. He whimpered, tears pricking at his eyes, and at last, you let go of his neck, placing both hands flat on his muscular chest for leverage. It wasn’t long before you were breathless too, as taking his cock became easier and easier with every downward stroke.

“Shit... I’ll give it to you, spidey… your dick feels amazing…” You gasped, little frown of concentration on your face, lips parted, unable to contain your little moans. How could he ever let you go, when you were the most exquisite thing Peter had witnessed in his whole life?

“Too much for you, little spider?” He could do nothing but sob as you teased him, cruelly, tightening your muscles around him “...Or not enough?”

You leaned forward, tracing your tongue over his open lips, but quickly withdrawing when he tried to capture yours in a kiss. You changed your pace, no longer bouncing but rocking on top of him, grinding your clit against his pelvis, enjoying the electricity that the friction created on your little pearl of nerves.

Meanwhile, Peter was a mess underneath you, tears now flowing freely, whimpering, and shaking, fisting the fabric of your skirt so hard that you heard it rip. But still not daring to complain.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you? Could do anything I want with you… use you anyway I wanted to…”

You felt him twitch inside you at your words, another whine escaping his chest.

“I could ruin you, ride you so hard… get you so close… and stop right before you come”

He shook his head frantically, desperate, but still, he kept silent.

“You don't want that? But you'd take it anyway, wouldn't you?”

He closed his eyes, unable to meet yours, ashamed. That was all the answer you needed,

“You would. Because you are mine… my pretty toy… to use… to fuck…” You picked up your pace, bouncing up and down his cock, and he couldn't contain himself anymore,

“Yes!” He cried, “I’m yours! All yours!”

“My slutty boy” You praised, legs burning with the strain and exhaustion of the night, but stopping was not an option. You were close, drunk on the power of having such a strong superhuman submitting to you, such a gorgeous man turned into a needy, desperate puddle between your legs.

“Please” He begged, pitifully.

“What do you need, little boy?”

His fingers closed around your wrist, guiding your hand until it was back around his neck, and you understood. You could have mocked him again, humiliated him farther, make him beg for it. But something inside his coffee eyes stopped you. It wasn't trust, no. You could practically smell the fear, the sharp tang of epinephrine coming off his pores, every hair on his body still standing on end, proof of his spider sense still on high alert…

No. It was deeper than that. It was surrender. He knew you could as easily give him what he wanted, as turn on him. Never, not even back it that farm, had been more evident to him that the hand he loved to hold was a weapon.

But he couldn't help never wanting to let go.

“Я тебя люблю” He croaked, throat dry and sore from your manhandling, but still clear enough to make your hips falter.

“What did you just say?” You breathed, stunned.

“Я тебя люблю” He repeated, more clearly, hands sliding up your thighs, till he had handfuls of your ass, “I love you…”

“Shut up” You hissed.

“I won't. I love you” Peter felt as your nails dug on his chest, until he had five bloody crescent marks to match the ones on his back, “I love you…”

You squeezed his neck harder, until he was really struggling for air, black spots dancing in his vision.

“I love you” It was nothing but a gasp.

You made a frustrated noise, but there was no denying the way your walls fluttered around him. And there was no stopping your hips, working him ferociously, fucking yourself on his cock without mercy. You were falling already, falling apart for him.

“Come with me” It was a command. It was a request. It was an invitation.

And Peter knew you weren't just talking about his release.

To be continued...

[xtruss]

Was Shoaib Akhtar's Talent Overshadowed By His Sagas?

World’s Fastest Bowler Shoaib Akhtar of Pakistan

Karthik Krishnaswamy

In Come to Think of it, we bring new perspectives to bear on received cricket wisdom. This week: was Shoaib Akhtar undervalued?

There's a fairly widely held strand of public opinion that would view Shoaib Akhtar as a wasted talent. It isn't just armchair fans who might think this - just look at his ESPNcricinfo profile.

"But that he will end his career an 'if only' or a 'coulda been' is the great tragedy," it says, fairly high up. "He had it all and he blew it." It ends with these lines: "So much so that what he did on the field had long ago ceased to matter and has been eclipsed by his scrapes off the field. For any sportsman, that is a damning indictment."

There are reasons to feel this way, of course, and the profile lists them succinctly: "doubts about his action, ball-tampering offences, beating up his own team-mates, courtroom battles against his board, long bans and heavier fines, serious career-threatening injuries and most damagingly, doping charges."

None of this is untrue, and that list doesn't even include the time Akhtar's board sent out a press release explaining his absence from a squad, and, rather than reach for one of a thousand bland corporate euphemisms, spelled out the exact nature and location of the skin condition that was keeping him out.

Akhtar's post-retirement public persona has done little to burnish his legacy. At the time of writing, he's in the news for claiming that he turned down a lucrative county contract with Nottinghamshire so that he could fight in the Kargil War. He... what? Yeah.

But hard as it seems, it's actually possible to disentangle all that from the thing that really matters, and properly appreciate Akhtar for the magnificent cricketer he was.

There was the pace, of course, and it was a strange and magical coincidence that he came along at the exact historical moment when bowling speeds were first being measured and displayed on live TV as a matter of course. You didn't just know he was quick; you knew he was quicker than anyone else, probably ever.

It was also Akhtar's fate that another purveyor of extreme pace, Brett Lee, came along at pretty much the same time. For the first two or three years of this millennium, the two of them pushed themselves, each other, and the limits of the human body to bowl faster and faster still.

The pace race was thrilling to witness, but in a WWE sort of way, bordering on silliness and fetishising pace for pace's sake. Watch the five balls that this video packages in ascending order of speed. Are they, as claimed, the five fastest deliveries in cricket history? Who knows. Do they make the batsmen cower in fear? Not particularly, and the quickest of them, bowled by Akhtar to Nick Knight during the 2003 World Cup, clocking 161.3kph, is nudged routinely to midwicket.

In the race to be the fastest bowler, one of these two purveyors of pace lost out Hamish Blair / © Getty Images

Pace is pace, yaar, but it's how you use it that counts. The pace race had an inevitable intertwining effect on the careers of Akhtar and Lee, but in doing so, it did one of them a considerable disservice. One was fast and hard-working and a fine first change behind Glenn McGrath and Jason Gillespie. The other was fast and scary, utterly impossible to take your eyes off, and utterly unplayable on his day.

Akhtar was the superior bowler, unarguably, but even a surface reading of their Test numbers would tell you as much. The point isn't that Akhtar was better than Lee. It's that he was an almost one-of-a-kind bowler who heightened the effect of raw pace to a degree rarely seen at the highest level of the game.

There was, of course, the effect on the spectators, achieved via that run-up, that exaggerated sideways leap and javelin-thrower wind-up, the theatrics between deliveries - occasionally during his run-up - and even that hair. But all that would have come to nothing without his effect on batsmen.

When Akhtar was fully switched on, in rhythm, and at his physical peak, the pace was almost all he needed to have that effect. Pace aimed with thrilling directness at the base of the stumps. It sounds simple, but there's a reason why only a tiny fraction of other bowlers have ever really pulled it off - or even attempted it - on a regular basis. Bowling yorkers at high pace takes a lot out of your body, and there isn't a whole lot of margin for error. Get it wrong and it's a lot of energy expended, and probably a lot of runs conceded, with little left in the tank for the rest of the day's exertions.

Akhtar's genius lay in being able to beat the very best batsmen with that direct, route-one method. I mean, come on. Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar in the space of two balls? Ricky Ponting, both Waughs and Adam Gilchrist in the space of 11?

In between, there were six wickets in 8.2 overs in Lahore, which sent New Zealand crashing to 73 all out on a pitch where Pakistan had made 643. Only once has a bigger first-innings lead been secured by a team bowling second, and that happened in a timeless Test.

Watch those wickets again: bowled, bowled, bowled, bowled, lbw, bowled; four pinpoint yorkers, the other two balls also full enough to just about fall under that classification, all of them beating the batsman for pace, with little or no reverse in play - New Zealand's innings only lasted 30.2 overs. This was the definition of taking the conditions out of the equation, and few did it as well as Akhtar.

There might even be a way to measure this.

When Akhtar took wickets, he took them quickly, as have the other four names on the table below. Vernon Philander and Dale Steyn have run through numerous teams, the latter in all conditions; Stuart Broad routinely goes on inspired bursts of wicket-taking; and Andy Caddick was a memorable blow-hot, blow-cold performer.

BOWLERS WITH BEST STRIKE RATES WHEN TAKING 4+ WICKETS IN AN INNS

It's an imperfect measure, of course, penalising bowlers who are part of better and deeper bowling attacks, but it says something that in the Tests where Akhtar burst through the opposition at the rate of a wicket every 23 balls, Pakistan's other bowlers took one every 75 balls. When other bowlers struggled, he often found a way.

At his peak the pace was often enough, but bowling that fast took a lot out of him, physically and mentally, as he revealed to Sidharth Monga in this fascinating interview five years ago. "I used to crawl to my bathroom every day of my career," he said. "I used to limp out of my bed. I can't remember a day I didn't have pain in my knees for the last 18 years."

Akhtar knew he needed other tricks apart from pace, and he certainly had them: swing, seam - look at this ball to Chris Gayle, in Sharjah of all places - the use of angles, the ability to manipulate batsmen with his lengths. Watch him bowl Matthew Hayden from around the wicket here. The late swing is a joy in itself, but what you won't see is the short balls he bowled before this ball, to push Hayden back and stop him from stepping out of his crease as he did time and again to fast bowlers.

Then there was the Akhtar slower ball. No bowler has ever delivered this variation with a bigger drop-off in speed from their stock ball, and he bowled it with no discernible change in arm action. England, fresh off an Ashes victory they still haven't stopped talking about, had no answer to it during their 2005-06 tour of Pakistan. Akhtar bowled many quicker spells through his career, but few approached this one in Lahore for the bafflement he caused. You want to watch this, but maybe not if you're Michael Vaughan, Ian Bell, or Liam Plunkett.

That Test match was Akhtar's 39th. He only played seven more, the last of them on an India tour in 2007, where he outbowled most of his colleagues on largely unhelpful pitches. The skills hadn't gone away but the body was uncooperative. He continued playing ODIs, sporadically, until the 2011 World Cup, and that was that.

Forty-six Tests. Umar Gul, the perennially crocked Umar Gul, played 47.

Even with all his injuries, Akhtar could have probably squeezed in a few more, what with all the bans and disciplinary troubles. But it's a marvel, come to think of it, that he left himself enough room to squeeze in all those spells, and leave us with all those memories.