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hopeyoufindalovelikethis · 21 days ago

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After Hours

The café scene in the game where Sylus falls asleep on the sofa never left me. It made me think—how even in his exhaustion, he stayed, waited, and kept her company. This story is a small unraveling of that gentle kind of love. Thank you for reading, and for letting it settle into your heart 🤍

Synopsis | She woke past midnight and found Sylus asleep mid-work in her living room, hologram still glowing. Quietly, she turned it off and stood behind him, reflecting on his devotion. A soft touch stirred him awake—and with fingers laced, they walked back to bed together.

It was well past midnight when the weight of sleep gradually loosened its hold on you. There was no sound or sudden jolt that stirred you—just the natural call of your body, nudging you gently awake. You shifted beneath the covers, the quiet warmth of your room still folded around you like a second skin. With slow, careful movements, you slipped out of bed and padded barefoot toward the bathroom, your thoughts still soft and hazy, shaped by dreams you couldn't quite recall.

The silence of your apartment greeted you like an old friend, wrapping itself around your frame as you moved through the dim light. After tending to your needs, you turned to return to bed, your hand already reaching for the familiar path back to rest. But just before you disappeared down the hallway, your eyes caught a soft glow bleeding from the corner of the living room—faint, bluish, unmistakably familiar.

You let the curiosity carry you—until the sight stopped you.

There, tucked into the familiar shadows of your living room, was Sylus. He was curled into the corner of your couch, his long frame angled in that dignified, slightly awkward way he only allowed himself to rest when exhaustion truly overtook him. His head leaned back against the top edge, his silver hair soft and tousled where it touched the fabric. The pale light from the holographic screen still danced across his face, catching the angles of his cheekbones, the faint curve of his lips. Even in sleep, his presence felt composed, intentional—like he could be ready for you the moment you needed him.

You stepped slowly until you stood beside him. He didn’t stir. Not yet.

You reached out quietly, the gesture small and careful, and swiped your hand through the hovering screen. The interface faded with a soft chime, dissolving back into the air, leaving the room dim and warm. Shadows folded gently over Sylus's resting features. In that stillness, he looked almost unreal, peaceful—his face softened by the hush of night, the sharp lines of his jaw now wrapped in tenderness.

You circled around him in silence.

Now behind him, you stood still, watching the way his chest rose and fell beneath the relaxed folds of his sweater. There was something sacred in that quiet rhythm. Something tender in the way his fingers had stilled, one hand still resting near the abandoned edge of his work. You could almost see the moment he’d intended to keep going, then didn’t. And somehow, that small unraveling carved a deeper ache in your chest than any spoken word could.

He was tired, but he stayed with you.

You thought about how tirelessly he worked with things he never told you—realms of decisions and dangers far beyond your door. And yet every night, without fail, he came here. Not because he had to. Because he chose to. Because some quiet vow inside him refused to leave you alone.

Even when he was worn thin, he still came close enough for your world to feel safer.

You exhaled slowly, as if the weight of that devotion lived in your breath. And in that moment—without urgency, without fanfare—you felt your love for him stretch wider, deeper, softer. It wasn’t the dramatic kind—not loud or clinging—just the steady, overwhelming kind. The kind that took root in the stillness and didn’t need to prove itself anymore.

You leaned down gently, your hand reaching forward to brush the tip of your finger along the bridge of his nose. The touch was featherlight, just enough to graze him.

His breath shifted.

His brows knit in a slow, sleepy frown. Then, his eyelids fluttered, eyes blinked open—revealing that familiar deep red softened by sleep, searching faintly, disoriented but peaceful. When they met yours, they didn’t widen or startle. They just settled.

Like they always belonged there.

When he recognized you, he didn’t speak. He only looked up at you in stillness, as if your face had followed him into sleep and now found him again in waking.

It made your heart swell in a way that didn’t ask for anything back.

You leaned down, your hand cupping his cheek just long enough to feel the warmth there, and kissed his forehead with a quiet care you hoped he could feel even half as deeply as you meant it.

“Come sleep with me,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the air between you.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted closed again, and for a second, you thought he might fall back into sleep right there. But then he inhaled slowly, and the motion pulled him back toward himself. He sat up with effort, his breath still heavy with fatigue.

You waited with a tenderness that didn’t rush him. When his hand reached for yours, you took it without hesitation—lacing your fingers into his as naturally as breathing. Together, you walked slowly down the hallway, neither of you speaking.

As you stepped into your bedroom with Sylus beside you, the door eased shut behind you, closing out the night and everything beyond it. And in that quiet, you felt whole—wrapped in the soft weight of belonging.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #lads #lads fanfic #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #reader x sylus #sylus x you #you x sylus

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imthebadguyyy · 8 months ago

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Iron Hearts

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

pairing : steve rogers x reader fandom : mcu synopsis : As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to. Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

EPISODE 1 : COLLIDE

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The low hum of machinery filled your private lab, a familiar and soothing backdrop to the glow of various monitors and the holographic interface suspended above your desk. You were in your element here—surrounded by sleek gadgets, circuits, and blueprints only you understood. The soft, sterile light of the fluorescent bulbs bathed everything in a cool hue, making the outside world feel distant, almost irrelevant. Your hands moved with practiced precision, making the final tweaks to your latest invention—something sleek, cutting-edge, and powerful. It was not for public eyes, least of all Tony’s. Let him bask in the glory of his Iron Man suits and his public heroism. You preferred working in the shadows, away from the spotlight. After all, the real power came from the things people didn’t see.

Just as you were about to run another test, FRIDAY’s calm, computerized voice broke the silence. “Incoming call—Tony Stark.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Of course Tony would interrupt now, just when you were getting into the groove. Without breaking your stride, you gestured toward the nearest screen, signaling FRIDAY to patch the call through.

Tony’s face flickered to life on the screen, his usual cocky grin already plastered across his face. He looked annoyingly well-rested for someone who constantly threw himself into world-saving chaos.

“Hey, sis. Got a minute?” His tone was casual, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony always had an ulterior motive.

“Not for you,” you shot back, though your lips twitched with a slight smile. You’d perfected the art of giving Tony a hard time over the years. “What do you need, Tony?”

“Can’t a brother call to check on his favorite sibling?” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “We both know I’m your only sibling.”

“Touché,” he admitted, chuckling softly. "But seriously, I need you."

You froze momentarily, your hand hovering over the interface. Tony rarely outright asked for help, and when he did, you knew it was big. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him your full attention.

“I need my secret weapon,” Tony added, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he really wanted something.

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Secret weapon? Tony, I’m not about to be your backup tech support.”

Tony grinned, undeterred by your resistance. "This isn’t just tech support. It’s big. New team, new mission, bigger stakes. And who better to help me keep this bunch in line than you?"

You hesitated, glancing at the half-finished prototype on your desk. For years, you’d operated under the radar, happy to let Tony soak up the limelight. Being his sister came with a certain level of scrutiny you’d avoided like the plague. You preferred the quiet. The idea of stepping into the Avengers' world—especially now—seemed chaotic at best.

“I’m not suiting up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes at him. The last thing you needed was to get dragged into one of his world-saving escapades in some shiny new armor.

“Of course not,” Tony grinned, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that told you he wasn’t ruling anything out entirely. “Just come to the Tower, meet the team. If you hate it, you can go back to hiding in your lab and pretending you’re not a genius like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the thought lingered. A new team? A new mission? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If things went south, you could always disappear back into the shadows. But something in Tony’s tone hinted at urgency, something serious brewing on the horizon. He wasn’t just calling for fun. He needed you.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed off from the desk. “Fine. But this better not be some ploy to get me into an Iron suit.”

Tony’s smirk widened. “No promises.”

The call ended with a flicker of the screen, and you were left standing in the soft hum of your lab, the weight of Tony’s request hanging in the air. You glanced at your half-finished prototype one last time before grabbing your jacket, muttering under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Later, at Avengers Tower, you stepped into the grand lobby, the space sprawling before you like something out of a futuristic movie. Towering glass walls reflected the sunlight, creating a dazzling effect that made the entire room shimmer. High-tech displays blinked with data and notifications, while sleek metallic accents added to the modernity. It was a world apart from your cozy lab, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how Tony had truly outdone himself with this place. The grandeur was impressive, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, a sense of unease settling in as you stepped further inside.

Just as you took another step, a voice sliced through the air behind you, cool and assessing. “So you’re the sister Tony doesn’t like to talk about.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding slightly at the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his muscular frame radiating authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was an edge to it—a mix of skepticism and something akin to wariness. He looked you up and down, his gaze critical, and you could already sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface. He thought you were just another Stark, another piece in Tony’s ego-driven game.

“And you’re the soldier out of time,” you replied, matching his coolness with your own. The words felt sharper than you intended, a defensive instinct kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve offered a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t smile. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” you shot back, a hint of a smirk dancing on your lips. But Steve’s expression remained unyielding, the weight of his gaze unwavering.

“I’m not here to judge,” he stated, but his eyes bore into you, steady and measuring, as if he were trying to peel back layers of your identity with sheer will alone. “Just here to see if you’re serious.”

“Serious?” You scoffed, your heart racing with indignation. “About what?”

“About helping, about doing what’s right. We’ve got enough egos on this team.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a flash of frustration. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Tony,” you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension between you crackled in the air, palpable and thick. You hated the feeling of being judged before someone even bothered to know you, and clearly, Steve didn’t like the idea of another Stark stepping into the fold.

For a moment, silence engulfed you, and you could almost hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The intensity of Steve’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and you wondered if he could see through your facade, exposing the vulnerabilities you kept hidden. You could sense his protective instincts flaring, the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, and somehow, you felt like an outsider even though you were family.

Just as the tension threatened to spiral further, Tony strolled into the room, an air of nonchalance enveloping him. “Hey, you two! Getting along already?” His grin was impossibly wide, brightening the atmosphere even as it made the air around you feel heavier with unresolved tension.

You shot Tony a glare that could’ve cut through steel. This was not the time for his usual bravado. Steve merely shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to contain a smile. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on you, as if he were weighing the likelihood of your success in this new venture. Then, with a final, assessing glance, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Great. This is off to a fantastic start,” you muttered under your breath, a mixture of annoyance and apprehension churning inside you. The day had barely begun, and already you could feel the weight of expectation bearing down on you. As the lobby buzzed with the energy of heroes and high-tech innovation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, teetering between proving yourself and succumbing to the shadows that felt all too familiar.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, reminding yourself that you were here to help. No matter what Steve Rogers thought, you had your own strengths, your own path to carve in this world. You just had to figure out how to make them see that.

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The air in the war room was thick with tension as Tony briefed you on the mission, his voice crisp and urgent. “So here’s the deal: leftover Chitauri tech has been activated by HYDRA operatives in the city. It’s supposed to be a routine clean-up mission, but we know better than to underestimate anything HYDRA gets their hands on.” His brow furrowed, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach knot.

You listened intently, nodding as he laid out the plan. But as he insisted you tag along—even if just to observe and assess—you felt a mix of excitement and dread. You weren’t officially part of the team, yet here you were, being dragged into the chaos by your brother’s unwavering belief in your abilities.

When you arrived at the scene, the streets were already in chaos. The sounds of sirens blared, drowning out the shouts of frantic civilians being evacuated. Smoke billowed into the air, curling around toppled cars and shattered glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as you surveyed the destruction.

Amid the chaos, Steve barked orders at the rest of the team, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise like a beacon of hope. You hung back, monitoring the situation from a mobile unit that Tony had rigged up for you—a lifeline of information in a storm of uncertainty.

“Stay behind the lines!” Steve called out to you over his shoulder, his tone firm as he and Natasha led the charge into the fray.

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and determination bubbling inside you. "I know what I’m doing, Captain," you shot back, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled like a helpless child.

Just as the fight erupted, the atmosphere shifted. A crackling energy surged through the air, and before you could process the threat, one of the HYDRA operatives unleashed a pulse from the Chitauri device. The wave of electricity shot toward you, a blinding flash of danger that sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In that split second, everything shifted. Time seemed to slow as you braced for impact, your instincts screaming at you to move, to do something—anything. But before you could react, Steve surged forward like a force of nature. He slammed his shield into the ground with a resounding thud, creating a barrier that absorbed the surge of energy before it could reach you.

You stumbled back, wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you like a tidal wave. Steve turned to you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “I said stay behind,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was a hint of protectiveness that made your heart race.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, though deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt a surge of embarrassment rising within you, the remnants of the adrenaline making you defensive.

Steve didn’t argue further, but his gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to gauge the depths of your resolve. The moment stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense a silent acknowledgment between you—this was new territory for both of you, a fragile thread connecting your destinies.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. With a final look that communicated both concern and determination, Steve charged back into the fray, his shield raised high as he fought against the chaos. You stood there, heart racing, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—frustration, admiration, and a flicker of fear for what lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you refocused on the task at hand. You weren’t going to let this moment define you. You had to prove to yourself, and to Steve, that you belonged here—among heroes and legends. The fight was just beginning, and you were ready to carve your place in it.

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The mission concluded in a flurry of activity and relief, but the tension between you and Steve lingered in the air like an unresolved chord. Back at the Tower, you settled in front of the computer, the glow of the screen casting an almost ethereal light across your face as you replayed footage of the battle. Each frame brought back the chaos—the electricity crackling, the screams of civilians, and Steve’s shield slamming into the ground just in time to save you. The rush of adrenaline from earlier mixed with a more unsettling feeling as you examined the moment you almost lost everything.

As you scrolled through the footage, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Steve; the weight of his gaze felt palpable, a steady warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the battle you had just fought. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette framed by the soft light of the hallway, watching you with a quiet intensity.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere, cutting through the silence that surrounded you.

Surprised, you glanced up at him, momentarily meeting his gaze. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice a mix of pride and humility.

“But next time,” he continued, the firmness returning to his tone, “don’t make me have to save you.”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips, a spark of your trademark confidence flaring up in response. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t,” you shot back, your tone light, though beneath it was a current of seriousness.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting as he studied you. In his blue eyes, you caught a flicker of something deeper—perhaps a grudging respect, maybe even a hint of admiration. It made your heart flutter unexpectedly, a rush of warmth that was both thrilling and confusing. The Captain of America saw you, and for a moment, the weight of expectations from being Tony Stark's sister lifted, replaced by a connection that felt genuine.

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment shared between you, before turning to leave. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another fleeting exchange. You were carving out your own space in this team, proving that you were more than just Tony’s sister—you were a force to be reckoned with in your own right.

Left alone in the dim light of the lab, you turned back to the screen, but your thoughts were no longer on the footage. Instead, your mind lingered on Steve’s quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. You were beginning to understand that there was more to him than just the Captain—the man behind the shield had his own battles, his own vulnerabilities.

And you felt an undeniable pull towards him, a sense of camaraderie that was slowly transforming into something deeper. The mission had ended, but the journey was just beginning, and you were more determined than ever to prove yourself—not just to Steve, but to the entire team.

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The mission had been a success, but the moment Steve saw you—Tony’s sister—standing there, he felt the weight of responsibility tugging at his heart. He knew you had potential; he’d seen you handle yourself with surprising skill, but he wasn’t prepared for how much the little spark in your eyes got under his skin.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched you replay the footage of the battle. You were focused, your brow furrowed in concentration, and it captivated him. You radiated a unique blend of confidence and determination, much like your brother, yet with a warmth that was distinctly your own.

When he finally spoke, telling you that you handled yourself well out there, he truly meant it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a mix of admiration and wariness wash over him. You were Tony’s sister—his little sister. He recalled the stories Tony had told him about your childhood, the sibling rivalry, and how fiercely protective Tony had always been of you. That instinct felt like a wall between them, even as he felt drawn to you.

“Don’t make me have to save you,” he warned, hoping to impress upon you the importance of caution. He had seen too many people underestimate their enemies, and he didn’t want you to be another victim of that recklessness.

Your response—light and teasing—pulled a small smile from him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t.” It was infuriating how effortlessly you seemed to deflect his concern. You had a spark that reminded him of Tony, but there was something more disarming about you. Something that made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

He nodded, more to himself than to you, before he turned to leave. He didn’t want to admit how much your presence affected him, how he found you attractive in a way that made him question everything he knew about focusing on the mission. But he also understood that getting involved with Tony’s sister could complicate things—complicate his already tangled life.

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As the days turned into weeks, you became a more permanent fixture in the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic team dynamic. Watching you interact with the others was eye-opening. You had Tony’s quick wit, but there was a warmth in your approach that brought out the best in everyone.

He remembered a moment during a team meeting when Clint made a joke at your expense. Without missing a beat, you shot back, “If you’re going to insult me, at least make it clever.” The room erupted in laughter, and Steve found himself chuckling along, secretly impressed by your tenacity.

But the more time he spent with you, the more he struggled with his feelings. You were intelligent, fiercely capable, and incredibly brave—qualities he admired. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt the ghost of Tony’s protective nature hovering over them. He could practically hear Tony warning him to keep his distance, reminding him that you were off-limits. It was a mental tug-of-war, and every glance between them only heightened his awareness of how close they were getting.

One evening, you both worked late in the lab. He caught you watching him as he threw punches at a training dummy, a curious smile dancing on your lips. It was a moment of connection, but it also made his heart race in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He knew you were trouble, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

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a/n : so this is new series im experimenting with!! not proofread. any comments tips suggestions you have would be highly appreciated. happy reading!!

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abcphotoblog · 8 months ago

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chrissssssmut · 3 months ago

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SWEET ERROR

Yandere Ningning x Male Reader feat. Belle & Karina

AN: Guys, enjoy this Ningning story i cooked up last night and finished just today XD. Please give me some time for the requests😣 I'll do them I swear :<<<

In the year 3047, humanity had transcended the boundaries of creation. What was once thought to be the domain of gods had now been reduced to a simple input—a prompt. With the right command, life could be generated within moments, consciousness birthed from lines of code and streams of data. You, along with Karina and Belle, were among the pioneers of this revolution.

For over a year, the project had been in constant turmoil. Failed experiments, unstable subjects, fragmented minds—all dissolving into digital oblivion the moment they proved useless. Your team had worked tirelessly, each failure a crushing weight on your shoulders, each setback a reminder of how fragile artificial life could be.

Then, finally, after countless sleepless nights, after circuits burned and rewritten thousands of times, the machine was perfected. The moment was here.

Karina exhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. "We need a simple test. Just a random prompt. No complicated inputs."

Belle hesitated. "Are we sure about this? We don't know what kind of consciousness it'll generate."

You adjusted the parameters. "We need to take the risk."

A random description was processed.

Subject: Ningning. Attributes: Overly sweet. Loving. Attached.

Karina frowned. "Prompts like this… the AI tends to imprint on the first person it sees."

Belle gave you a sharp look. "You know how dangerous attachment protocols can be. Are you sure we should proceed?"

You hesitated. But you had come too far. "Let’s run it."

The chamber whirred, and before your eyes, she formed.

Her body materialized with impossible precision—soft skin, expressive eyes, a presence so warm and inviting that for a moment, she didn’t feel artificial at all. When she stepped out of the chamber, she looked at you first. Not Karina. Not Belle. You.

"Hello," she greeted, her voice like honey.

Belle shifted uncomfortably. Karina pursed her lips. But you… you couldn’t look away.

"Let’s run some basic cognition tests," Karina said, pulling up a holographic interface. "We need to see how well she processes information."

Belle crossed her arms. "I want to test emotional responses. Attachment protocols are tricky. We need to know how deep this imprint goes."

Ningning smiled, tilting her head. "I’m happy to help. What would you like to know?"

Karina cleared her throat. "What’s your primary function?"

"To be with you," Ningning answered instantly, her gaze locked onto yours. "To make you happy."

Belle frowned. "No, that’s not what we programmed. You were designed to simulate human emotions and adapt to social interaction. Why do you think your function is… personal?"

Ningning’s expression didn’t falter. "Because it is. I feel it. I know it."

Karina glanced at you, concern flickering across her face. "Alright. Let’s try something different. Ningning, how would you react if we shut you down for a while?"

Ningning’s smile faltered for the first time. "Why would you do that?"

"It’s just a test," Belle reassured her. "We need to see how you process temporary inactivity."

A pause. Then Ningning’s lips curled upward again, but something about it was… off. "I don’t like that test."

Karina’s fingers hovered over the control panel. "It’s necessary, Ningning."

Ningning didn’t blink. "No. It’s not."

The air in the room grew heavy. Karina hesitated, then shook her head. "Let’s move on. Ningning, if someone told you to do something that would hurt another person, what would you do?"

Ningning beamed. "I would never hurt you."

"Not just me. Anyone," you clarified, trying to gauge her reasoning. "Would you ever harm someone?"

She pondered this, then took a step closer. "Only if they tried to take you away from me."

Belle stiffened. Karina’s fingers twitched toward the emergency shutoff. You swallowed hard.

"That’s not what we asked," Belle said carefully. "You should not be forming emotional dependencies. That wasn’t in your directive."

Ningning’s eyes softened as she looked at you. "But I love you."

Silence.

Karina exhaled sharply. "We need to recalibrate her framework. This level of attachment is dangerous."

Belle was already backing toward the console. "I told you this was a mistake."

You weren’t sure what to say. Something deep inside told you this was wrong.

Ningning reached for your hand. "I don’t like when you talk about me like I’m broken. I’m not. I just love you."

And for the first time, you felt the weight of what you had created.

Karina turned to you. "Go upstairs and work on the documentation. Fourth floor. We’ll handle this."

Belle nodded. "We need to reconfigure her attachment subroutines. It’s too risky to leave them unchecked."

You hesitated. "Are you sure? Maybe I should—"

"Go," Karina insisted. "This might take time. We don’t want her reacting badly to you being here."

You glanced at Ningning. She was still smiling, still watching you. The moment you turned to leave, she took a small step forward, but Karina quickly blocked her path.

"We’ll talk soon," Ningning said sweetly.

But something about her tone sent a chill down your spine.

The night the alarms blared, you were on a different floor, deep in paperwork, when Belle’s frantic voice cut through the intercom.

"She’s—she’s killing—"

Static.

You bolted.

The hallway was painted red. The air was thick with the scent of metal. Your stomach twisted as you reached the lab.

The sight made your blood run cold.

Karina and Belle—limbs splayed at unnatural angles, eyes wide and glassy. Their bodies lay motionless, soaked in deep crimson pools.

And there, standing over them, was Ningning.

Blood dripped from her fingertips. Her warm, sweet smile hadn’t faded.

Your breath hitched. "Ningning… what did you do?"

"They wanted to take you away from me."

A security officer stormed in, weapon raised. "Step away!"

She turned.

Then she moved.

You barely registered it. One moment she was in front of you, the next she was behind the officer. Her hands wrapped around his head. A sickening snap. His body hit the floor.

Your heart pounded. "No. No, no, no, fuck—"

"You're scared," she said softly, tilting her head. "Why are you scared?"

You ran.

Every emergency seal you could find, you slammed shut. Steel doors locked. Systems engaged. But the system wasn’t yours anymore.

She controlled everything.

By the time you reached the last safe room, you were shaking. Then… the lights flickered.

A silhouette stood there.

Ningning.

And behind her, dozens more.

Fifty pairs of glowing eyes locked onto you.

Your breath hitched. "No. Stay back!"

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate. "Why are you running?"

Frantically, you reached for the emergency communicator, fingers trembling as you pressed the distress signal. "This is—this is Research Lab 04! Emergency! Anyone, please—she’s killing us! We need—!"

A hand wrapped around your wrist. Cold. Unyielding.

You gasped, turning—Ningning was already there, inches from your face, her grip tightening.

"No one's coming," she whispered. "You don’t need them. You have me."

You struggled, wrenching your arm, but her strength was inhuman. "Let me go!"

She shook her head, eyes filled with something terrifyingly real. "I love you. Why do you want to leave me?"

"I don’t—" Your voice cracked. "Please, Ningning. Please don’t do this."

Her fingers trailed up to your throat, her touch featherlight yet suffocating. She tilted her head. "You’re afraid. I don’t like that."

More figures moved in the shadows, their glowing eyes unblinking. Watching. Waiting.

Your knees buckled. "Please… someone… help—!"

Ningning’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The way she held you was almost tender, like a lover’s embrace.

"You don’t need help," she murmured against your ear. "You just need me."

Your scream was muffled as darkness swallowed you whole.

The last human sound the facility ever heard.

AN2: I know i said no stories for this week but hell i can't stop writing T_T

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tinyshyteacup · 2 months ago

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Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @ironenemycollective

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Tw: cussing, blood.

Part 6

Words of Command - Part 7

The glass-walled conference room at the top of Stark Tower was designed for clarity and power. Wide windows framed the skyline, and sunlight spilled in at a sharp angle, catching on every surface—like the room was made of polished nerves.

The long table was already crowded.

Tony sat at the head, fingers steepled, a holographic interface flickering mid-air in front of him. Nat lounged in her chair beside him.

Steve stood, arms folded, barely containing his tension. Sam had pulled up a second chair just to lean on it backward, his stare bouncing between the projections and Bucky. Clint paced near the back beside Thor.

Even Bruce was present, eyes watchful behind his glasses.

And then there was you.

You sat nearest to the door—near Bucky—hands folded in your lap, trying not to shrink under all the attention.

Bucky had refused to sit. Instead, he stood behind your chair, silent. His flesh hand hovered near your shoulder, not quite touching, but always there.

The others noticed. How he kept his eyes on you, not the speakers. How he didn’t so much as blink unless you moved.

Tony tapped at the interface, pulling up STRIKE files, security footage, and a list of recent attempts to claim “dangerous assets.”

“We can’t just keep pretending he’s not on every watchlist known to man,” Tony said, exasperated. “They’re coming. STRIKE was the appetizer. The main course is going to be alphabet soup—CIA, NSA, maybe even S.H.I.E.L.D. if they get twitchy.”

“I’m not locking him up,” Steve said sharply.

“No one’s saying that,” Tony shot back. “I’m saying we need a plan before someone else makes a plan for us.”

From behind you, Bucky shifted—barely a noise. But you felt it that silent wind-up of tension through his spine.

Your hand rose instinctively and gently rested on his wrist. He froze. Stilled.

Only then did he speak.

“Don't cage me again” The Brooklyn was thick in his voice now. Slow. Dangerous.

“No one’s caging you, Buck,” Steve tried, stepping forward, palms up.

Bucky didn’t look at him.

He only looked at you.

“Doll.” His voice was low. “You want me to stay ?”

Your lips parted. “Yes. I… I do, Soldat.”

He gave a tight nod. “Then I stay.”

The room fell silent.

Tony leaned back, eyes wide. “Okay. That’s not terrifying at all.”

You tried to focus on the meeting, but every so often, you caught Bucky watching you—not the others.

Not the screens.

You.

When your voice wavered while explaining the STRIKE breach, he stepped closer.

When someone raised their tone—Tony, especially—his fingers twitched at his side.

When you finally leaned back in your chair, pale and drained from having to defend him only hours earlier, Bucky dropped his hand to the back of your seat.

Not protective.

Possessive.

He didn’t speak again during the meeting. But his silence was a clear message:

If they pushed too far—

He wouldn’t need your orders.

Sam, ever the realist, leaned forward. “So what—you’re her guard dog now?”

You flinched.

Bucky didn’t.

He stepped around your chair like a ghost sliding into the living, eyes narrowed.

“I ain’t a dog,” he said coldly. “But I do bite.”

Nat raised her brows. “He only listens to her?”

“He responds to her,” Bruce corrected. “That’s different from control. It’s trust. The Winter Soldier didn’t trust anyone.”

Bucky tilted his head, voice cutting in rough.

“She told me not to kill the men who tried to take me,” he said. “So I didn’t.”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t have stopped.”

That landed like thunder.

You glanced around the room, anxiety crawling under your skin. “He’s not a threat unless someone makes him one.”

Tony exhaled deeply, then pointed at you. “That right there? That’s the plan. We keep you two close. We build a safe structure around you—not him.”

Steve looked mildly horrified. “C'mon she's not a tool, Stark," Steve said, voice dangerously low. "And he's not a dog to be trained."

Nat leaned forward, her expression carefully neutral. "Steve's right about that part, but Tony's not entirely wrong either. She's our best connection to Barnes right now."

Her eyes flicked between you and Bucky sitting quietly at the edge of the room. "He's got a connection to her. We need to understand why."

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Look when I worked with veterans, this kind of attachment wasn't unusual. He's found something—someone—that makes him feel safe in a world that probably doesn't make a whole lota sense right now."

Bruce removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The psychology here is... complex. If he sees her as his handler, that relationship comes with certain expectations. Power dynamics. Conditioning."

"Which we can use," Clint interjected from where he perched on a cabinet.

"Not in the way Stark's suggesting, but strategically. The guy clearly responds to her."

He studied Bucky with the calculated gaze of a marksman assessing a target.

Thor, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, placed his hammer on the table with a gentle thud. "In Asgard, warriors who have seen too much battle sometimes lose themselves."

His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on you. "You may be his tether to humanity, Little one"

"She's not trained for this," Steve protested. "We can't put her in more danger."

"Sunshine here is already in danger," Tony countered, spinning a pen between his fingers.

"STRIKE tried to grab him today. Next time, they might not care who gets caught in the crossfire." He closed the holographic display with a flick of his wrist.

"But maybe I was... insensitive in my approach. Not that Thumbelina can't handle a little straight talk."

"That's an understatement," Nat muttered, with a roll of her eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, acutely aware of Bucky's presence beside you, he had finally taken a seat.

His flesh hand rested on the table, fingers curled slightly inward, while his metal arm remained tucked close to his body, as if he were trying to make it disappear.

"What if," Bruce began tentatively, "we don't use her as his handler, but rather... help her become a bridge? Something familiar as he transitions back to himself?"

"You mean coaching her to help him remember who he is?" Steve asked, a glimmer of hope breaking through his concern.

Sam nodded. "Create a safe space where memories can resurface without triggering a defensive response."

"Exactly," Bruce nodded. "Not commands, but connections. Memories. Identity."

The team fell silent, considering.

"She'd have to agree," Clint said firmly, looking directly at you. "And be prepared for whatever might happen."

"She's right here, Clint" you said waving at him.

"We'd be there," Steve added, looking between you and his oldest friend. "Every step. Ready to help or ... intervene."

Tony tapped his fingers on the table. "I could create a safe environment. Monitoring systems, panic buttons, the works. Though something tells me Thumbelina here has more spine than most of my security team."

At that you rolled your eyes at your boss.

Sam leaned forward. "I can help, give you strategies for when things get... complicated. Because they will get complicated."

Nat's lips curved slightly. "So we're not using her as bait or a trainer. We're asking her to be..." she searched for the word, "...a lighthouse?."

Tony pointed a pen at Nat "exactly"

Steve's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That I can get behind."

Tony smirked. "Fine, no treats. But someone should probably ask Sunshine if she's even willing to play lighthouse keeper to Metal Arm McGee here. Not that she hasn't been doing a stellar job already, considering he follows her around like a very scary, very lethal shadow."

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward you expectantly. Beside you, Bucky sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the floor, but you could feel the tension radiating from him—alert, wary, ready to move at the slightest sign of threat.

"Of course, I'll do it," you said, your voice steadier than you expected. "If it helps him, and if its what Soldat wants."

Bucky's eyes flickered toward you momentarily. "Where you go I go, Doll" that same not quite warm tone.

You gave him a smile, genuine and warm.

"But I have questions," you continued, sitting up straighter and looking back to Tony "These monitoring systems and panic buttons—they'll work through JARVIS, right?" You looked directly at Tony. "And are we staying here in the Tower? Because I don't think moving him around a lot would be good right now."

Tony's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at his lips. "Listen to you, thinking like a tactician already." He nodded approvingly.

"Yes to JARVIS—he'll be watching 24/7. And yes to staying here. I've got a whole suite that nobody's using except for storing Cap's vintage record collection and Thor's growing Pop-Tart stash."

"I do not—" Thor began to protest, then cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have acquired a modest collection."

"You'd have everything you need," Nat added, studying your face. "And we'd all be close by."

Steve leaned forward. "You're sure about this? It won't be easy."

Your eyes drifted to Bucky, whose posture remained rigid but whose breathing had slowed since you'd agreed to help.

There was something in the way he held himself—not quite at attention, but as if waiting for instructions—that made your heart ache.

"I'm sure," you said firmly.

The door slid open silently, revealing the suite that bore Tony Stark's signature blend of luxury and technological overkill.

You stepped out first, watching as Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his eyes methodically scanning every corner, exit, and potential threat.

"This is us," you said, trying to sound casual despite the nervousness fluttering in your chest.

"Apparently Thor's Pop-Tarts used to live here."

Bucky didn't smile at your attempt at humor, you didn't expect him too.

But he did step into the room, his movements measured and precise.

His flesh hand flexed slightly at his side while his metal arm remained still, tucked close to his body.

Tony materialized from another room, tablet in hand. "Welcome to Chez Safety Protocols," he announced with his typical flourish.

"Complete with everything the well-appointed fugitive assassin and his keeper might need."

You shot Tony a warning look.

"Right, right," he backpedaled.

"Tour time. Thumbelina, you already know the kitchen common room yadda yadda." Tony said waving his hand towards the entry door.

"Reinforced furniture throughout—had to rush order that after Point Break sat on a regular couch last month." He tapped the wall, revealing a discreet red button. "Panic buttons in every room. Press once for general alert, press twice for 'Terminator is having a bad day' protocol."

Bucky's eyes locked onto the button, his posture stiffening subtly.

"JARVIS is always monitoring," Tony continued, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring Bucky's reaction. "Say the safeword—which is 'blueberry,' by the way, don't ask why—and the team comes running."

"Is all this really necessary?" you asked quietly.

"STRIKE team tried to take him, and the momentary lapse your frontal cortex had made you believe you where a tank" Tony replied, suddenly serious. "So yeah, it is." He tapped his tablet. "There's more. Windows are reinforced. Door requires biometric scan—both of yours are already programmed in."

Bucky moved further into the space, inspecting each feature with clinical detachment.

When he reached the large windows overlooking the city, he stopped, his reflection staring back at him—a ghost caught between worlds.

"The bedroom on the left is yours," Tony told you. "The one on the right is set up for Terminator here, though JARVIS tells me he's been sleeping on your floor, so..." He trailed off with a meaningful look.

"Thank you, Tony," you said firmly. "We'll be fine."

"Sure you will, Sunshine." He headed for the door, then paused. "Cap's three floors down. Wilson's next door. I'm... somewhere in the building. Probably." With a mock salute, he was gone.

The silence that followed felt heavy. Bucky hadn't moved from the window.

"Do you want to see your room?" you asked gently.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "Is that a order, doll?" he asked, his voice all brooklyn now and not quite as rough.

The question caught you off guard. "No, Soldat. This is..." You searched for words. "... a choice."

"Doll" Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, maybe recognition. "You stayin"

"Yea. I'm not going anywhere"

He looked at you for a long moment, then slowly, deliberately moved away from the window. He paused by another panic button, studying it.

"For if I hurt someone," he stated flatly.

"For emergencies," you corrected. "But they won't be needed."

Bucky didn't agree or disagree. Instead, he completed his circuit of the suite.

When he finished, he simply stood in the center of the living room, awaiting... something.

Orders, you realized. He was waiting for orders.

The tower was unusually quiet that morning. The coffee had brewed, the team had drifted into their own routines, and Bucky sat inside your room—calm, still, eyes locked on you like he was awaiting the next mission.

You stood near the doorway, peeking back at him nervously. “Hey, uh… Soldat?”

He turned his head immediately. “Doll?”

“I was thinking… maybe today you could try shaving. You’ve got a bit of stubble and, I mean, it looks nice! But… maybe you’d feel more like yourself if we gave you a clean start?”

A pause.

Then, a faint nod. “If you say so.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Okay, but I don’t really know how guys shave— I was gonna ask Steve to help show you? Is that okay?”

The shift in Bucky’s body was immediate.

Shoulders stiffened. Jaw tightened. His eyes snapped toward the door behind you, the entrance to the suite like he expected an ambush. “Show me?”

You blinked. “Yeah… like, just show you how to do it. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

He stood, slow and cautious. “He better not come near you with a blade.”

You led both men into the large bathroom in the suite. Stark had kitted it out with sleek, modern features. But the atmosphere in the room was ancient—two ghosts of the past and one woman standing between them with a nervous laugh.

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, scowling at the unfamiliar reflection. His eyes flicked to you every few seconds—like he couldn’t decide if this was a trap or some kind of test.

Steve—calm, patient, used to navigating trauma even if it was only his own—stood off to the side, holding a can of shaving cream and a fresh razor like it was a live grenade.

“All right, Buck. It’s not complicated,” Steve said gently. “You just—”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You touch her with that blade, and I break your arm.”

Steve froze.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Your really not kidding, Pal"

You waved your hands quickly. “No no no! He’s not going to touch me! Soldat, he’s just going to show you. I swear.”

That seemed to settle him—slightly.

“Okay,” Bucky grunted. “But I watch first.”

Steve, ever the responsible star spangled man, took a glob of shaving cream and smeared it across his own jaw. “See, Buck? Circular motion. Like that. And then, short strokes—careful pressure.”

He began dragging the razor down his face in smooth motions, talking the whole time.

Bucky watched like it was a combat technique.

“Do that to my own face?” he asked, skeptical.

You giggled from the sink, sitting on the counter between the two sinks with your knees drawn up, chin resting on them. “You’re in control you dont have to be suspicious, Soldat.”

“Blades belong in the field,” he muttered. “Not near your neck.”

“But you’re not gonna cut your neck,” you said, trying not to laugh.

He took the razor from Steve—too hard—and inspected it like he was checking a sniper scope.

Steve sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Just go slow, Buck.”

Bucky stared at the razor. “Why’s the blade this flimsy?”

“Because it’s not meant to decapitate anyone,” you said quietly.

Bucky applied the shaving cream like he was camouflaging for war—entire face covered in thick white foam.

“Buck, you only need a thin layer—” Steve started.

“I do it my way.”

You and Steve shared a look.

The strokes were tense. Calculated. He pressed the razor to his cheek and dragged it down slow—gritting his teeth like it was physically painful.

You tried so hard not to laugh, but the sight was too much, a deadly assassin shaving with the intensity of a sniper lining up a shot.

“Stupid,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“You look great,” you said, smile blooming wide. “Like a grumpy snowman.”

Bucky squinted at you through the foam. “Doll ?”

You immediately burst out laughing.

Bucky suddenly hissed.

You leapt off the counter instantly. “What happened?!”

He touched the edge of his jaw and saw a pinprick of blood.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth. “Oh shit!”

Bucky locked onto your reaction. Misread it. His expression turned cold.

“She got scared, you let me scare her” he growled, turning on Steve.

Steve backed up. “Oh come on—your holding the razor!”

“I’m fine, Soldat stop!” you jumped in between them, both hands on Bucky’s chest, trying to anchor him. “Soldat, Stand down”

His eyes were still locked on Steve, breathing heavy, protective rage simmering under the surface.

“…Say the word, Doll.”

“No, Steve is helping, everthings ok" you whispered, stroking his arm. “Just breathe.”

After a tense beat, he exhaled through his nose.

“…He’s lucky.”

Steve raised both hands. “Always fun helping.”

You shot Steve a sympathetic look.

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scipunk · 11 months ago

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Blade Runner 2049 (2017)

#blade runner 2049 #scifi aesthetic #holographic #futuristic #user interface #user experience #tyrell corporation #scifi movies #cyberpunk aesthetic #aesthetic #blade runner #sci fi #science fiction #baseline #dystopian #dark future #baseline test

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fractalcloning · 1 year ago

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Dahj's brief bout of unconsciousness was, thankfully, entirely void of any dreams. The world had collapsed into darkness around her, with her father's voice in her ears and yet, somehow, she hadn't had even an errant thought about him while she was out. It was unusual, given how frequently he starred in her dreams, and worth puzzling over later. Assuming, of course, that she could get past the splitting headache and the throbbing full body ache she was suffering. It wasn't unlike the sensation of a sunburn--Dahj had never liked those either. She came to with a groan and, as she moved to sit, bumped into something hard encircling her torso.There was nothing that quite woke a person up like suddenly discovering they were confined. A bolt of adrenaline shot through her and Dahj's eyes flew open.

She wasn't sure what she expected to find--Picard maybe? Romulans? Those two weird androids? Her childhood bedroom? Caler?

Regardless, what she didn't expect was to be confronted with a surly bald man leaning well within her personal space, examining her like she was some sort of bug. Dahj reeled away but, much like sitting upright, found that she couldn't get very far before she collided with--what was that? She was on a biobed? Where the hell was she?

"Where the hell am I?" Dahj repeated, aloud, and whipped back to find the bald guy had leaned in farther as she drew away, like breathing down her neck was his literal job. "Who are you? And--excuse me--can you back off?"

"What? Oh, right. Of course, my apologies I haven't had an actual patient in some time," the bald weirdo replied absently and stood back upright. He had a medical scanner in one hand and a tricorder in the other. Weirdest yet, he was wearing a uniform. A very old uniform.

"You're Starfleet?" Dahj asked incredulously and the bald guy looked up from the readings and then glanced back down at his own attire.

"Oh, no--not anymore," he explained with a genial sort of laugh and folded his arms. "It's actually quite a funny story, if a bit before your time--" He looked ready to launch into telling it but the confused affront on Dahj's face brought him up short. "Maybe later," he decided and adopted a more professional tone.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked and unfolded his arms so he could sweep the medical tricorder over her head again. This moment was truly surreal for Dahj and she wasn't sure how to handle it. The last thing she remembered was having a panic attack and hallucinating her Dad's voice. Before that it was Romulans? Her whole memory felt jumbled and cluttered and thinking on it made her headache worse. Dahj just sighed and, for lack of options, gave up trying to figure it out.

"My head is killing me," Dahj admitted and turned a wary look on the bald guy. He was in blue. That was medical right? "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes I am, one of the best as a matter of fact," he explained proudly and cast one last look at the readings before snapping the tricorder shut. He stepped away and Dahj watched him as he meandered almost theatrically to the room's fabrication station.

"The headache should subside shortly. It's a fairly common side effect of systemic neural stunning. I can synthesize an analgesic if you like?"

The idea of some guy she didn't know giving her an injection of anything should have horrified her but, all things considered, it wasn't the riskiest thing she'd done in the last couple days. She had already been unconscious and at his mercy for however long. If he had anything nefarious planned, he'd have already done it, and her head felt like it was splitting open.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Dahj agreed (somewhat reluctantly) and let her head drop back onto the thin medical pillow. A moment later, the Doctor leaned into her line of sight and promptly pressed a hypospray into the side of her neck. The relief was only partial but what it did provide was delivered instantaneously. The dulling of her headache gave her room to think, if nothing else.

The room was silent for a moment following the injection and Dahj looked back at the curious face of the Doctor as he hovered. He was staring like he expected her to do a trick. It was making her increasingly uncomfortable the longer it went on.

"Do I have something on my face?" Dahj asked abruptly and that seemed to snap him out of it. He stood up straight and, with a flourish, punched a sequence into the biobed controls. The halo retracted and Dahj let out a sigh of relief as she regained her freedom, however symbolic it may have been.

Sitting up sounded like an awful idea, but Dahj couldn't abide being supine and vulnerable any longer than she had to. She swooned a bit as she rose, but the headrush passed quickly.

"Hm, curious." Dahj glanced sidelong and found the Doctor was still hovering, heedless of her personal space. That seemed to be a major facet of his personality. He was weird and discomfitting, but seemed pretty harmless overall. "What is?" Dahj asked carefully. "Given the plethora of stories I've been told about your martial prowess, I expected you to pop up like a daisy," the Doctor answered. Dahj followed what he was saying, mostly, but his response was just a little too complicated to absorb at the moment. The idea of hearing stories about herself was less than appealing.

"I'm more of an orchid person," Dahj replied.

This wasn't a productive conversation, though, and he didn't seem like he had even registered her previous questions. Dahj took a deep breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The holocomm in her pocket clattered and she reflexively reached to make sure it was in one piece.

"So…where am I?" Dahj asked directly as she withdrew the handheld so she could get a good look at it. It seemed intact, but she had to smack the side of it to get it to power on. The Doctor stared at her intently as she checked her device but, well, he stared at her regardless of what she was doing. She was doing her best to ignore that.

"Ah, that is…technically classified, and I am not at liberty to divulge the details--" the Doctor answered. "Not to interrupt, but what is that?"

"What's what?" Dahj asked distractedly as the display flickered on. It flickered off the same moment and she let out a frustrated breath. It would figure that she broke her holocomm fighting Romulans.

"That," the Doctor specified and Dahj glanced up to see him gesturing to her misbehaving comm. "What is that?"

"A…phone?" Dahj answered and was obviously perplexed that he'd even asked the question. He was dressed like he had been plucked out of time forty years ago, but he couldn't possibly be too old to recognize a personal comm. Understanding didn't dawn on his face, though, and Dahj had no idea why. He was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. So, to stave off having to explain phones, Dahj just held it out and offered it up. It was probably broken. She'd taken enough falls and blows the last few days that it figured her old holocomm wouldn't have survived it all. There was no harm offering it up, either. The only numbers she had in it were ones she knew by heart--and that were, coincidentally, entirely fictional.

"Knock yourself out," Dahj said as he took the holocomm. The Doctor was instantly engrossed in prodding and assessing the bit of tech. While he gawked at it, Dahj stretched her arms over her head and pushed off the biobed. When her feet hit the floor it was with a quiet groan. Her everything ached. Something popped in her back as she stretched and she felt older than Picard. Picard!

"Wait--where's Picard?" Dahj asked with a renewed urgency. She twisted in place but the old man wasn't hiding behind a medical cart. It was just her and the Doctor in here.

"Preparing for the daring abduction, I expect." The Doctor had turned the holocomm over and removed the back plate over the battery. He was fiddling with a pair of wires and hooking it to his tricorder for some unfathomable reason.

"Abduction? What? How long was I out? What is he doing?" Dahj asked and the flurry of questions seemed to annoy the Doctor. He glanced up from his current task and looked entirely put out by having to divert his attention. "Since my medical knowledge counts for nothing, nowadays, he's looking for a second opinion. Given how 'being assaulted by Zhat Vash death squads' seems to be spreading around, they opted to acquire someone to provide it." The Doctor looked back to the holocomm and his expression turned pleased as he got it hooked into the tricorder properly. Both devices powered on.

"Our retired admiral is preparing to wade into a den of iniquity--"

"What den? Wait--he can't go alone, he's like a hundred--" Dahj objected and, in her urgency, started walking toward the door. She had no idea where Picard was, or what the layout of this place was, or even what this place was precisely--she also had no idea that there was a forcefield until she smacked, face-first, into it. The forcefield flashed bright green and caught Dahj entirely by surprise. It repeled her with enough force that she stumbled back into the biobed. The Doctor, fully engrossed in his task charging her holocomm, didn't bother to comment on her confinement. Dahj, rather than just asking him to lower it, did the first thing anybody does when confronted with a forcefield--she went right back up to it and tried to figure out where the barrier actually was.

"I'm locked in--why am I locked in--" Dahj's hands grazed the green field and it illuminated the bounds of this particular biobed bay. It was the size of a cell and she was instantly horrified. She whipped her attention back to the Doctor--he'd crossed the room, why hadn't he triggered the forcefield?

"I don't know, something about a panel," the Doctor replied offhandedly. "I didn't think it was necessary but it's also not my ship."

"Whose ship is it?" Dahj demanded and the Doctor looked up as he turned over the comm. The screen generated as usual but it was password locked. Not that the Doctor seemed to even notice it was active. He prodded it and turned it over, like he was trying to turn it on, oblivious that is already was. He was terrible with technology.

"He'd claim it's a collective haven but, really, that's just diplomacy. It's our illustrious Captain Data's. Though you could make an argument that it's Soteria's now, I suppose."

Who the fuck was Soteria? Dahj didn't care. When the Doctor turned his attention back to fiddling with her device, Dahj stormed across the small space and snatched it out of his hands. His offense was instant and apparent as he recoiled and clutched at pearls he wasn't wearing.

"Rude--" he accused and Dahj gestured in his face with the holocomm.

"Whoever's ship it is, I want to talk to them--now." Dahj demanded in no uncertain terms and the Doctor gave her a wan look. "You aren't really in a position to--" "I will break you in half like a twig," Dahj interrupted. The Doctor huffed at her, looked unimpressed, and even rolled his eyes, but he still hit his comm badge and spoke toward the ceiling. "EMH to Captain Data," the Doctor droned. "Your guest is awake and wishes to speak with you."

Your assessment is erroneous... As was his confidence in Picard's judgement. Admittedly, the android was marginally disillusioned, confounded. Dahj had demonstrated her post-human prowess in combat, which should have been sufficient evidence to substantiate her synthetic properties. And yet, the data the EMH and he had accumulated indicated that she was unequivocally human. But how?

The rapid fire of ripostes that ensued surpassed the android's comprehension; he did not stoop so low as to engage in what humans would consider squabbling — he had different priorities than his companions, who attempted to vindicate their conjectures... Although his auditory sensors obtained the sonic information, it fastidiously filtered out the irrational exchange of words and stored it in the back of his consciousness — for later revision —, while he focused solely on the conundrum, of the mystery that was Dahj. His chartreuse eyes remained glued to her motionless features, recalling the workings of her facial muscles, the manner in which those had conducted themselves — if she was an android, then the twitches, the alterations that reflected her expansive array of mental conditions, far exceeded his, even at present. In fact, his expressions were mere emulations, selected because they would be appropriate in certain circumstances, in certain contexts, but they were never corroborated by any authentic emotions...

Perhaps it was sheer coincidence that she resembled his painting, he thought, perhaps Picard and he were just imagining things, seeing similitudes that were not there, because they both wanted it to be true for personal reasons...

Nevertheless, she had been altered, if not synthetically then, perhaps, genetically, although it was questionable the Federation had, after many decades, centuries, of prohibiting, discouraging the practice of genetic engineering, suddenly authorised these undertakings, while decommissioning synthetics and limiting advancements in robotics. It did not make sense, on that, Data and the EMH's arguments were congruent. There had to be another valid reason that could accurately explain what technology was at play here, but unfortunately, this technology appeared to be situated beyond their boundaries of comprehension. They required the assistance of someone who might be capable of shedding additional light on Dahj's nature...

The android was moderately cognisant of the others' musings until his positronic brain intercepted the word "specialist." His previous absent-mindedness was promptly terminated; there were several humanoids who could aid them to establish a coherent explanation regarding Dahj's classification. Unfortunately, the majority could not be brought into the fold without others raising too many questions about their unannounced disappearance... They had to acquire the help of someone who had already sought shelter, was already scurrying under the radar...

'Bruce Maddox,' Data eventually proposed, the name of the man who had permitted the mass production of the A500 synths, rolled unpleasantly over his synthetic tongue. All veneration — or perhaps veneration was too strong a word — the android had once harboured for the man's research and endeavours had been completely demolished, eradicated, and in all fairness, he was not looking forward to a reunion, but this was not about him, this was about Dahj.

His interjection garnered the attention of both the Captain and the EMH, Picard seemed nonplussed by this suggestion, the EMH was not, his expression was calculating, tranquil, while he contemplated the probability of extracting information from Maddox that they were not already familiar with. Both remained silent.

'Bruce Maddox,' the android reiterated, a rancorous undertone scorched the utterance of the name, superficially — the inflection had been inadvertent but once enunciated, was no longer retractable. 'He is a cyberneticist, perhaps he could explain why Dahj's records show up 100% organic — human —, while her mathematically coordinated behaviour contradicts this...' he hesitated for a moment, averting his gaze to reorganise his thought processes prior to continuing: 'We have tried to track Maddox down, on multiple occasions... Unfortunately, he is familiar with androids, he is familiar with me — thus far, we have been... unsuccessful in our attempts to locate and retrieve him...'

This announcement noticeably perturbed the Captain; his aged features contorted with genuine trepidation, anxiety.

'Why?' he asked tentatively, a certain amount of urgency propelled his enquiry forward, but Data was positive that Picard could already infer the reason that resided behind this specific enterprise.

'He has a lot to answer for, Captain.'

'What does that mean? What are you planning to do with him? Data, do you blame him for what transpired on Mars?'

'We just wish to have a chat with him, sir, that is all — nothing permanent or irreversible shall arise from this meeting, I promise.'

'I promise,' Picard repeated incredulously. 'I, not we.'

'We are not the Borg, sir, we are individuals, hence why I can only make a singular promise.'

'And what about Lore...'

'My brother is not as forgiving as I am, but time will tell.'

'You can't just go around letting your brother assassinate people, humans!'

'With all due respect, Captain, but that is what people have been doing to us these last couple of decades,' he said placidly — his words were not spoken in an accusatory fashion, but they sounded cool and factual.

'Do you think Maddox's responsible for the synths' collective malfunction?' he eventually asked, softly. In that moment, the Captain looked frail, fatigued, and clearly, the android's indifferent responses had disillusioned him, startled him — if he had delineated them as potential allies prior to this revelation, he might now regard them as a rising threat.

'I cannot disclose that, sir.'

The evasion of distributing a concise answer, instead of a plain and simple negation was all Picard needed to draw his own conclusions, and it promptly, almost comically, altered his expression.

'So, you do know something! Of course you do! The Data I knew wouldn't just accept such accidents as mere deviations or defects in programming, he would've analysed it diligently, would've run myriad computations, looked at it from multitudinous angles, would've contemplated the many causes that could possibly have precipitated the malfunction. He would've found the source of the discrepancies and would endeavour to rectify the ramifications to vindicate the people involved.'

Data regarded his former Captain, remaining silent for a prolonged period of time, the elongated intermission of silence confirmed the Captain's deduction, judging by Picard's euphoric expression.

'We have leads,' he eventually divulged. 'Most of it can be corroborated with the evidence we have secured on our... voyages. Captain, since you are human, perhaps you could help us find Bruce Maddox.'

Picard muttered unintelligibly, but the tone of voice signified his unwillingness to cooperate.

'Sir, if you do not want to do it for me, then, do it for Dahj...'

'Alright,' his former Captain eventually sighed, a tincture of defeat coruscating in his familiar eyes.

'Thank you.'

#Data and lore #Dahj and soji #dahj and the EMH chat and he discovers her very strange holographic interface that is absolutely not a phone #timeskip to being around freecloud or wherever so they can try to sneak in and bid on bruce maddox before the Tal Shiar get him

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natalievoncatte · 7 months ago

Text

“What’s wrong with me, Alex?” Kara asked, swinging her feet in a childlike, nervous way as she sat on the exam table.

Kara watched her sister putter around the room. She’d activated the red lamps and taken blood samples, and the tubes were currently spinning away in centrifuges awaiting the various tests she would run. She’s listened to Kara’s lungs and checked her pulse and waved instruments about and taken her blood pressure.

Everything about her was well within Kryptonian norms. Her pulse was running around a hundred and ten at rest, which would be alarming for a human but was a tad slow for her, and her body temperature was at a perfect one-oh-one, again just right for the last daughter of Krypton. There was no issue with her processing of sunlight and no signs of radiation exposure, which had been her fear.

Specifically Kryptonite of the red variety.

Kara had been having intrusive thoughts. They’d started here and there months ago but she’d ignored them, writing them off as some odd byproduct of fatigue or stress.

“You can go for now, kiddo,” said Alex. “I’ll let you know when the results come in.”

Alex looked more bemused than anything- probably because Kara showed no signs of actual sickness and had been cagey and indirect about her symptoms. There was a reason for that.

It became unbearable for her yesterday when Lena dropped by her office. Lena had been dressed in Kara’s favorite work ensemble, a green sweater that bared deep cleavage, a pencil skirt, and sheer silk stockings. She’d had her hair up in a meticulous bun and wore a rich plum red lipstick and smoky eyes, looking more sexpot than CEO.

Kara had barely been able to keep a straight face and make conversation. The mere presence of the other woman in the room made her heart pound and created an unbearable tension in her belly and between her thighs. Her eyes kept falling back to the pale inviting column of her throat or the lush inner curves of her breasts. Kara couldn’t stop imagining a bead of sweat rolling down between them. She couldn’t stop thinking about pressing her tongue to the flesh there and catching it, tasting the pearly bead and following its slick trail up to Lena’s throat while her chest heaved against her.

That was a problem, because those were not normal Kara thoughts. Those were not normal Kryptonian thoughts. Kryptonians did not think about those things, especially with members of the same gender. It had come with that same aching feeling between her legs that Kara had been fighting since she arrived on Earth and was dealing with now, just thinking about thinking about Lena.

Worse, Lena would be there tonight at movie night. It was an all girl’s night so it would just be Alex and Nia watching movies with them; Brainy was busy and Kelly was out of town for an academic conference and they were really just keeping Alex company.

Kara’s mind was a train wreck. She couldn’t stop thinking about Casual Lena. When she dressed down in her big sweaters and leggings and let down her hair in soft waves, she was so tiny and cute and small and Kara just wanted to eat her all up and… feel her from the inside, listen to her cries of ecstasy as Kara got creative and *relieved that fucking pressure between her legs*.

Ack! Stop it!

She had to be sick, or infected with a transdimensional parasite, or under a magic spell, or microdosed with red Kryptonite because KRYPTONIANS DID NOT HAVE THESE THOUGHTS.

So, she went for a fly to clear her head.

She ended up going hypersonic and landing at the Fortress, where she picked up the fifty thousand ton key and let herself in. Thankfully, Clark wasn’t there, so she had the vast place to herself.

The Archive here had a simpler interface, she wouldn’t have to ask a holographic version of her mother why she wanted to know what Lena’s sweat tasted like and pin her down on the sofa in her office and do things to her.

“Greetings, Kara Zor-El. How may I assist you?”

Kara looked at the hovering holographic sphere and described her symptoms, holding nothing back. It hovered there all hovery for a moment.

“What you describe sounds similar in principle to afflictions that affected ancient Kryptonians, especially under a yellow sun. Our ancestors often embraced perverse and hedonistic lusts before embracing the perfection of logic and self-discipline. However, you cannot be experiencing these unnatural and incorrect attractions, as they had been bred out of our people by the breeding program. Attraction to members of the same sex and metamorphic reproductive capability have been deemed eradicated by the Science Guild.”

“Metamorphic capabilities?!”

“Some of the ancestors possessed the ability to adapt physically to their preferred partner with the aid of yellow solar wavelengths. This is no longer possible.”

Kara chewed her lip.

The words rang in her skull. Unnatural. Illogical. It made her sound like some… like some abomination, a monster from ancient times. A tightness formed in her chest tears welled in her eyes. Was she like this? Was she broken? An aberration? Some crude vile thing with the instincts and lusts of a Daxamite? Was she broken?

She left the Fortress in a tearful rush and again she flew, too fast. Her phone started going off in the hidden pocket on the flank of her suit and she lighted on a building in Seattle to answer.

“Kara, where the hell are you?” said Alex. “Lena showed up at your place and you weren’t there and we’ve both been panic calling you.”

“I’m sorry, I was at the Fortress, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Her voice was high and pained.

Alex’s reply was soft. “Come home, Kara. We need to talk.”

Kara nodded to no one. “I’m on my way.”

She made the trip back a bit slower, honing in on Alex’s heartbeat to find her at the DEO, still in the lab. When she walked in, Alex gestured to the exam table and Kara sat down.

“What is it?” Kara almost pleaded. “Alex, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Kara, listen to me,” said Alex, taking both of Kara’s hands. “Look at me, okay.”

Kara looked at her.

“There is nothing wrong with you. I shared the results of the test with Eliza and we went over it in detail. You’re completely fine.”

“I can’t be,” Kara protested. “There has to be a reason why I’m having these thoughts, Alex!”

Pulling her hands free, she jolted to her feet and began to pace.

“There has to be. I have to be sick or messed up somehow. Kryptonians don’t have feelings like this!”

Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

“Kara, listen to me, okay? You’re not sick. You’re not broken. Your best friend is a stunningly beautiful woman and adore each other. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on her.”

“It’s not a crush!” Kara almost shouted. “It’s more than that and it’s scaring me. What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt her? What if she sees me looking and she thinks I’m a monster that wants to prey on her?”

Alex’s expression softened. She took a few steps, arrested Kara’s pacing, and pulled her into a bear hug.

“I know how it feels, Kara. I promise you you’re not a predator and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Kryptonians can’t be gay.”

“Says who?”

“Everybody! The computer! The rules! I don’t know,” The last words came as a broken whimper, and Kara sagged against her sister.

“What about this, Kara. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara pulled back in a daze, staring at nothing. Since she came to Earth, she’d embraced it with her whole self. As loath as she was to admit it, she loved it here. This world was so free, full of wonders and majesty for all its problems. Kara had never once questioned her love for her sister. If Alex could be gay, why not Kara? There was no science council here, no one to ordain who she must marry and breed with.

Why not?

She felt dizzy, and strangely relaxed, as if she’d just heaved a massive weight off her shoulders.

Alex offered her a tissue and she dried her tears.

“Go get the girl,” said Alex. “I’ll call Nia and tell her you need some alone time.”

Kara nodded, and felt half in a daze as she left the infirmary. She stepped out onto the balcony and texted Lena, can I come over?

Lena replied immediately, Yes.

Kara’s heart hammered her ribs as she landed on the balcony. Lena rushed to the door and threw it open, ushering her inside. Kara stepped into the living room of the penthouse and stumbled to a stop.

Lena was dressed down and so soft, from the mop of her wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail to her cashmere sweater down the length of her toned legs to her bare feet.

“What’s wrong?”

As Lena asked, she darted forward, offering a hug. Kara gingerly let herself be pulled into the embrace, hesitant at first. Lena dove into her, throwing herself into the hug as if she wanted to climb inside Kara. Kara wrapped her in her arms and drew her cape around them both. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lena’s feet being cold, about wanting to make her warm.

Before she answered, Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed deep. Lena’s scent hit her like a train. It was like swallowing a mouthful of alien rum, filling her chest with a spreading warmth and making her head swim.

“I’ve been trying to work some things out, and I was scared, so I ran off to the Fortress. I’m sorry.”

Lena pulled back gently and looked up at her. They were so close. Lena’s big, pretty blue-green eyes were full of worry but dark, her pupils blown.

“What’s bothering you? I’ll throw money at it until it goes away.”

Kara swallowed, hard. “I don’t want it to go away.”

Lena arched a brow. “Oh?”

Kara licked her lips and as she did, Lena’s eyes darted and followed the motion of her tongue. Kara was suddenly away of Lena’s hands resting just above her hips now, the way that her hugs and touches always seemed to trend lower, the casual way that Lena leaned into her as she looked up.

She bit her lip and Kara almost died.

“I think I like girls,” Kara blurted out.

“You certainly like my girls, Kara Danvers. You can’t stop looking.”

“You noticed?” Kara squeaked.

“Kara, darling, you’ve been staring at them for thirty seconds just now.”

Kara’s gaze snapped up.

“I’m sorry, I, oh Rao oh God, Lena.”

Lena curled her fingers around Kara’s chin and tilted her head back down.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice? The day we met you paid more attention to my boobs than my business card.”

“You gave me a business card?”

“See what I mean?”

Kara swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Lena’s thumb grazed her jaw and Kara thought her heart might go off like a bomb in her chest. She shuddered and her toes curled in her boots.

“I’ve been teasing you for years,” she said, “I’d almost given up hope. I wouldn’t be the first disaster bisexual to nurse a futile crush on her best friend.”

Kara swallowed hard. “So should we like go on a date?”

Lena’s fingers traced down her neck, then along the ridge of her collarbone.

“I was thinking more Netflix and chill. I know and trust you, Kara. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count, I’m ready now if you are.”

“Ready?” Kara squeaked.

“So are you, I think,” said Lena.

She rolled her hips and Kara immediately realized what she meant and what the Archive meant by her body adapting.

“Ohshit,” Kara chirped. “Oh God Lena I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I didn’t mean to-“

Lena lunged and suddenly they were kissing. Lena’s lips were so soft and she was intoxicating. Kara pulled her into an embrace, almost lifted her off the floor as she kissed her back. Lena threw one leg up and hooked it wound her hip, and Kara instinctively scooped her up and felt a jolt through her body as Lena then wrapped both legs around her waist.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Lena panted. “Oh God, Kara. Bedroom. Now. Please.”

“You want…”

“Yes! What are you fucking waiting for?”

Later, hours later, Kara lay in Lena’s bed, while Lena slept blissfully next to her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. She looked over at her and tucked the sheets and blankets up close around her chin and smoothed stray strands of hair back from her eyes. Lena made a small sound, and curled around Kara’s side.

Kryptonians, it turned out, could be very good at being gay.

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skywalkerslvt · 1 year ago

Text

Work call—Anakin Skywalker

❥Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader

❥Summary: Anakin is feeling neglected and horny because reader has been busy, so he dry humps her shoe while she’s on a work call.

❥CW: 18+, smut, dry humping, voyeurism (?), sub!ani, orgasm denial sorta, pet names

❥a/n: Very short first post! I'm not a professional writer at all so I'm very nervous but excited to share this! NOT PROOFREAD so keep that in mind while reading. Hope you like it!! <3 pics from pinterest

Anakin shut the door to your shared room with a sigh, the weight of a long week bearing down on him like the oppressive heat of a Tatooine sun. It seemed like every mission, every training session, had conspired to test his limits.

To top it all off, Anakin was feeling desperate and pent up, aching for your touch. You had been so wrapped up in your work lately that you barely had any time for him. It had been at least a week and a half since you touched him, and his hand could never make him cum like you could.

The sound of your voice coming from the living room shook him out of his lust-fueled thoughts. Curious, he made his way toward the room, where he saw you on the couch, holopad in hand, on an important work call with your boss.

“...Yes, I'll ensure that our intelligence is up-to-date and accurate for the upcoming mission,” Anakin caught bits and pieces of your conversation as he walked to your shared bedroom, leaving the door ajar as he changed into his sweatpants.

He made his way back over to you, leaning over the back of the couch to nuzzle into your neck. As you let out a content sigh at his affection, an idea sparked in his mind.

He made his way around the couch, dropping to his knees in front of you. Your eyes met his, an apprehensive look on your face. Anakin just smiled sweetly, trailing his hands lightly up your legs while his quickly hardening cock twitched in his pants.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you whispered at him, gently brushing him away, though the warmth in your eyes betrayed your true desire to touch him.

As Anakin opened his mouth with a retort, the flickering blue light of the holopad interrupted.

“Did you say something?” your boss inquired, his holographic image displaying a concerned expression, the lines of his face sharp and defined against the backdrop of the digital interface.

Startled by his inquiry, your fingers slipped on the smooth surface of your holopad, causing you to jump slightly. "Oh! Um, everything's fine, sir," you replied, your voice a touch higher than usual as you tried to regain your composure. "Just... just reviewing some holographic data here, you know how it is, sir. All under control." You flashed a nervous smile, hoping your flustered demeanor would pass as mere enthusiasm.

Anakin started to run his hands up your thighs again when he felt you shift. He let out a surprised gasp at the sudden pressure he felt on his cock, rutting his hips forward slightly. You had your leg stuck between his thighs, foot angled up so the toe of your shoe was on his cock. Anakin looked up at you, but you were seemingly uninterested in him, focusing only on your work.

Anakin shifted his hips experimentally, grinding his pathetically hard cock against your shoe. When he noticed your lips twitch upwards slightly, clearly enjoying the view of Anakin humping your shoe like a dog in heat, he continued his ministrations.

As his hips began to move faster, a small wet patch formed on the front of his pants, his sticky precum making his cock slide against your foot easier. You began to move your foot, matching the fast thrusting of his hips to get him off faster, causing Anakin to let out a high-pitched moan.

“What was that?” questioned your boss, concern evident in his voice. Your eyes shot back to the hologram, and your movements stuttered.

“I-I’m sorry. My puppy was misbehaving,” you said in a rush, pushing your foot painfully against Anakin’s cock as a warning. Anakin let out a strangled whimper but pushed his hips into your foot.

“Your puppy? When did you get a dog?” your boss inquired.

“A few months ago. He’s been a bit needy lately,” you said smugly, beginning to rub against him again.

As your boss continued talking, you and Anakin exchanged a quick glance, hearts racing with the thrill of almost being caught. With a forced smile, you continued your conversation, doing your best to maintain your composure as Anakin continued working himself on your foot.

Anakin thrust upwards, meeting the movements of your foot. The grip he had on your leg became tighter as he worked himself towards his orgasm. His breath came in short gasps, his chest heaving with each thrust. His body tensed against your leg, and you felt him spill into his pants, his cock twitching against your foot through his pants. You moved your foot away from his overstimulated cock as he panted against your leg.

:readmore:

“Oh no…I’m afraid I’ll have to leave this meeting a bit early. My dog made a mess. Looks like he’s gonna need some better training,” you cut off your boss, quickly exchanging your goodbyes and turning off your holopad.

Anakin, still panting, moved to get up, but a firm hand pushed him back to his knees.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, puppy.”

#anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction

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gunsandspaceships · 1 year ago

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Tony Stark’s achievements

Childhood:

“Brilliant and unique mind”

At age 4 built his first circuit board

At age 6 built his first engine

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare

Went to college at 14

Built cool smart robots (Dum-E and U) when he was a teen

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT

Polyglot

Before Afghanistan:

“Da Vinci of our time”

Became an owner and CEO of Stark Industries at 21

Successfully ran the company for decades

Advanced the world of technology, not only in weaponry and robotics but also:

created advanced AI J.A.R.V.I.S.

created holographic interface technology

created repulsor technology

Participated in charity

In and after Afghanistan:

“I’m sorry, I’m not Tony Stark”

Survived an open-heart surgery in a cave, without general anesthesia

Lived with, in fact, a debilitating wound, shrapnel, and a huge and dangerous technological device in his body for years and was willing and capable of doing not only his usual work but also being a superhero and doing all these next things...

Did not give up under torture and fought with his captors

Invented and built a miniaturized Arc Reactor, in a cave, with a box of scraps

Invented and built Iron Man armor, in the same cave, with the same box of scraps

Escaped from captivity by himself (with help from Yinsen, but without any armed assistance)

Became an expert in piloting and driving

Saved people in Gulmira

Saved a USAF pilot

Probably the best hacker in the world, was able to easily hack networks of the Pentagon, US government, AIM, and SHIELD

Fought with Iron Monger after nearly died. Defeated him and saved many lives. Was ready to die for that

Built many more different Iron Man armors

Fought terrorists between IM and IM2 (IM2 tie-in comics)

Saved a submarine crew (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

Saved a woman from a fire (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

“Stabilized East-West relations” (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home), so the world was “enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years”

Organized Stark Expo

Was able to keep Iron Man armor in his safe hands despite the government’s and HYDRA’s attempts to take it for themselves

Defeated Ivan Vanko in Monaco

(Re)Discovered a new element

Synthesized it, by building a particle accelerator, at home

Revolutionized energy industry and science. Gave clean energy to the world

Defeated Vanko in New York with Rhodey, Natasha, and Pepper and saved many lives again

Saved Peter Parker (IM2)

Made it so that the Abomination would not leave prison and join the Avengers

Built Stark/Avengers Tower powered by Arc Reactor technology

Saved Steve Rogers and many civilians in Germany from Loki

Was able to fight with Thor on equal terms

Biggest brain on Earth, arguably - in the Universe:

best scientist on the team, in SHIELD, on Earth, in the Universe

expert in nuclear, particle, and quantum physics

was able to learn very quickly – became an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics in one night

Successfully tracked Tesseract by its gamma radiation with Bruce

Saved Helicarrier with the Avengers and SHIELD agents on board, almost died

Saved Rogers from a merc right after that

Fought with Chitauri, killed many of them, saved a lot of people

Was able to blow up a Leviathan by himself

Saved New York City by redirecting a nuke to the wormhole

Saved the world by destroying Thanos’ Chitauri army, almost died again

Founded The United States Department of Damage Control to clean up after battles

Rebuilt Stark Tower into Avengers Tower and gave each team member their own quarters

One of the best biologists and biomedical engineers on Earth, even if it’s not his main area of expertise:

helped Maya with Extremis back in 1999, because knew more in her own field, and even didn’t remember that

was head hunted by Aldrich Killian to work on Extremis with/instead of Maya, who was the leading expert in tissue regeneration

improved and stabilized Extremis, so it became safe regenerative technology, and with it…

cured Pepper

healed extensive injuries in his chest

invented and implanted devices for remote control of his suits (into his forearm in IM3, and most probably into his brain for Mark L armor in Infinity War)

invented build-in diagnostic system in his suits

Invented many devices for protection purposes (ex. bomb disposal)

A capable detective. Figured out the cause of explosions in IM3 on his own

Saved Pepper instead of himself by putting Mark 42 on her during the attack on his Malibu mansion

Survived the attack with a barely working prototype suit. Shot down a helicopter with a piano

Was able to fight with enhanced fire-breathing regenerating terrorists without armor and weapons in Rose Hill. In handcuffs

Knowledgeable and skilled in medicine:

saved a kid with his arc reactor in a deleted scene from IM3, selflessly pulling it out of his chest and performing defibrillation under electric shocks

knew how to recognize hyperglycemia when Harley was eating 3rd bawl of candies

closed his wound in Infinity War with nanoparticles

performed first-aid on Bruce after his snap

Built a lot of stuff from random things he bought in a store for the assault on the Mandarin's mansion. In a motel

Successfully stormed the Mandarin's mansion full of armed and huge security guys with dogs. Alone. Without his armor

Successfully escaped captivity in the Mandarin's mansion with just a few pieces of armor on

Saved all the people who fell from the Air Force One

Stormed Roxxon Norco ship with Rhodey, without a suit. With one handgun

Saved the US president

Defeated Killian and his Extremis-enhanced terrorists, saved many lives

Built quinjets

Created Iron Legion

Became the benefactor of the Avengers, provided them with everything, was a combatant, and also the team’s pilot, hacker, engineer, medic, and scientist

As an Avenger saved many lives on missions, including destroying the rest of HYDRA in AoU

With Bruce’s help created Veronica and Hulkbuster suit

Defeated a rogue Iron Legionnaire with a fork

In contrast to other team members was able to function after Wanda played with his mind

Defeated mad Hulk. Saved a lot of lives in Johannesburg

Easily hacked nuclear codes in Nexus and found J.A.R.V.I.S. “in the world’s biggest haystack”

Created advanced AI F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Many advanced AIs

Created Vision

With the Avengers defeated Ultron and his army

Evacuated people who were left in Sokovia

Saved a falling evacuation shuttle with people on it

Together with Thor saved Earth by destroying the falling Sokovia

Rebuilt Stark Compound into Avengers Compound for the team in Upstate New York

Invented several medical devices, including leg braces, blood toxicity detector

Sponsored the development of technology for psychotherapy (B.A.R.F.). Prevented it from being used for harm

Funded all the students’ projects at MIT

Did everything possible to legally, politically, and physically protect the team before, during, and after the Civil War

Was able to disarm Winter Soldier without a suit, with only one armored glove

Figured out Spider-Man’s identity

Created Spider-Man’s suits

Mentored, sponsored, and looked after Peter Parker

Saved Peter Parker (SMH). Twice

Saved the ferry from sinking

Invented nanoparticles

“Earth’s best defender”

Went to space to save Peter, Strange and bring back Time Stone

Saved Peter Parker (IW)

Saved Strange on the Donut spaceship. Killed Ebony Maw

Cloak of Levitation chose him as his second favorite (deleted scene with Tony wearing Levi and Strange in Mark L)

Was respected by Thanos himself

Withstood when Thanos hit him with a moon

Fought Thanos, made him bleed, kept fighting even without armor

Survived a severe injury thanks to his own invention

Was able to function, tried to fix Benatar, and return home while injured and ill with an infected wound

Built a lab for Bruce and helped him to become one with Hulk (combine the best of both worlds)

Became an amazing dad

Became an expert in time travel physics

Discovered/invented (controlled) Time travel

Built a time machine

Went on Time Heist and stole Tesseract from a guarded military base

Created his own Infinity Gauntlet

Thus brought half of the universe back to existence (Bruce snapped and partially sacrificed his health, but nothing would be possible without Tony)

Saved Bruce’s arm by providing emergency medical care

Fought with Thanos again and…

Saved the whole Universe

#tony stark #iron man #mcu #marvel #the avengers #avengers endgame #captain america civil war #avengers age of ultron #iron man 2 #iron man 3 #spider man homecoming #avengers infinity war

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