#I'm working on some big pieces but I had enough wrist energy to draw a lil' something for Atoliiiiii

[nyarlylicious]

[4-5-24] I HEAR IT'S A GIRL'S BIRTHDAY TODAY????

[joansiefics]

Hey!! I just saw your prompt post and I was wondering if I could request prompts 2 and 4 from the angst section with Steve Rogers? Fluffy ending? I'm just really in the Steve mood rn. Thanks❤️😘

No Bed Of Roses

STEVE ROGERS X READER

Prompt 2: "don't you hurt a single hair on her head"

Prompt 4: "I don't know where I am... please help"

SUMMARY: You get kidnapped on your way home from running errands and Steve comes to save you.

WARNINGS: Explicit  Descriptions of Torturing (Cutting, Dislocations...), Kidnapping, Chloroform, Blood, Mentions of Death, Guns

A/N: The expression "no bed of roses" means not pleasant at all. And seeing that this fic is about an anniversary I accentuated and incorporated flowers in the fic. I'm sorry it took so long to write your request, but I hope you like the final product.

MARVEL MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are OPEN

Add yourself to my TAGLIST

~Flower #1: Peony - means Marriage~

You just finished decorating - roses strewn over the tablecloth accompanied by lit candles and fairy lights hanging by the entrance. It was your first marriage anniversary and you wanted it to be special. There were still three hours left before Steve would be home and you were almost done, you just needed to make your famous pumpkin pie. "Dang it!" you spoke aloud when you noticed your flour wasn't enough for the recipe. You rushed to the door and grabbed your keys on the way out.

------

You payed for the flour, thanked the cashier and rushed back to your car. A few meters away from your car, you searched your purse for your keys and unfortunately didn't notice the two men creeping up on you.

~Flower #2: Aconite - means Be Cautious~

A calloused hand enclosed around your mouth, muffling your cries for help, as the other arm snaked around your waist, preventing you from escaping. Another man's hand came into your peripheral vision, a torn rag in his hand. You struggled against the arm around your waist, screaming against his filthy, sour tasting hand and kicking your legs wildly. The rag was forced into your face, even though you twisted your head from left to right, holding your breath and doing everything in your power to escape the drowsiness. After about five minutes of useless struggling, black spots started to cloud your vision, the fight fully escaped from your body and you fell numb into your attacker's arms.

------

~Flower #3: White Rose - means Silence~

When you opened your eyes, the dark was exchanged for more darkness. You relied on your hearing to inform you of your surroundings - a dripping faucet, the roof's thermal expansion and contraction and silence. The sudden presence of a fluorescent light directed directly into your eyes had you squinting. "Sleeping Beauty finally awakes" a loud voice booms from somewhere in front of you. You try opening your eyes against the bright light to find the source of the goosebump-eliciting voice. "Who are you and what do you what from me?" you strenuously ask. A dry cough threatens to escape your parched throat and makes you gag, before you collect the most possible saliva to swallow. "We'll leave our identity a riddle for you to figure out while we wait for your Captain to show up"

'No, no, no, no...HYDRA...Steve fought so hard against them, he'll be devastated' you think "Well, then I'll have all the time in the world, he's not coming to save me" you say, hoping that it came across more convincing than it felt "We both know you're lying princess" "Don't call me princess" you seethe. "We need to do something about your snarky remarks, princess." he tuts as he walks to the corner of the room and for the first time you see the trolley decorated with tools. "With what do you want to start?" he asks fake politely. "You choose" you say with fake bravery masking your utter terror. "Let's see if we can shut your pretty mouth up first." He picks up a knife and slowly stalks towards you.

~Flower #4: Marigold - means Pain~

When he gets to you, he forces your mouth open - his long fingernails digging into your soft, rosy cheeks. He musters up all his saliva, stores it at the tip of his tongue and spits the ball of slime into the back of your throat. You choke on the warm liquid, traveling down your throat as he shakes your head to ensure that you swallowed all the given saliva. Once you swallowed everything you look your kidnapper in the eyes "thank you so much, I was so thirsty" "Let's see if you'll be so outspoken when I cut your tongue" he digs his nails deeper, drawing blood as you try to close your mouth. He forces the knife's blade into your mouth.

The cut is made at the tip of your tongue - not deep enough to cut the tip off, but just deep enough to let it bleed profusely. A scream escapes your lungs and the tears sting behind your eyes. "Not so brave now sweetheart, huh?" he mocks. He takes a phone out of his pocket and clicks on a number. The phone rings once and then the other person picks up "Hello?" the person, you recognize as Steve, unsurely greets. "Captain, we have your pretty little wife over here" "Don't you hurt a single hair on her head!!" Steve yells fumingly. "Oops, too late" "let me talk to her" Steve urgently orders, hands clenched into fists. "No, no, no captain...why don't I show you" your kidnapper switches the call over to video call and focuses the camera on you. He grabs your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open. Then he grabs a pair of pliers and pull at the tip of your tongue, to show Steve the damage that has been done.

You don't know when your tears started falling - maybe when you saw Steve or maybe when your tongue was cut into, but they were now flowing down your cheeks, stinging in the crescent shaped cuts of your kidnapper's nails. "Just hold on sweetheart, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" 'He is probably still at work... how long have I been here? Less than three hours?' You attempted to speak but you rather hissed at the pain when your tongue touched your upper palate. Steve's heart clenched at the sight of your fear stricken face, contorting in pain. "Here's the deal, we let your pretty princess go free when you hand yourself in" the kidnapper speaks up. "Deal, but I swear if you hurt her even more I won't hesitate to kill you" and with that Steve hangs up.

------

~Flower #5: Balsamine - means Impatient~

"I think he forgot about you princess" the kidnapper says, impatiently looking at his watch and walking the room up and down. When nearly twenty minutes have passed since the phone call, your kidnapper lost patience. He harshly yanked you up, by your hair, from the chair and pulled you after him - your feet sweeping the floor clean. At the other side of the room he let go of your hair and kicked you over onto your stomach. He gripped your tied up wrists and cut the rope loose, only to secure your wrists with a much stronger and longer rope. You could feel the sisal rubbing over your already lacerated wrists and feel the blood trickling down your fingers.

When your kidnapper was sure that you could not escape the bonds, he hauled you up by holding the other side of the rope. He lead you to a contraption where he made you climb the three stairs upwards. He positioned you that your back was to the pole-like-contraption and then tied the longer end of the rope (behind your back) to it. He quickly got off and pulled the handle which made the platform disappear from your under your feet and you fell with a big force to the ground, being pulled back by the rope just before your feet could touch the ground. You screamed as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket - the pain electrifying every cell in your body.

------

~Flower #6: Iris - means Faith & Hope~

You have no idea how long you've been hanging from a rope - a shoulder dislocated, probably a broken rib, lacerated wrists and a slit tongue. The distant sound of gunshots alert your kidnapper, but you hang numbly and exhausted. 'Where's Steve? I know he'll come for me, it's just a matter of time' you try to talk some sense into yourself, before you completely think that Steve has abandoned you. "Don't let them get the girl, she's our only leverage!!" your kidnapper yells through his comms to the soldiers, but he is met with static. "Your captain has come to rescue you... and now we have him right where we want him. He'll pay for all the destruction he caused." he has a disgusting smirk on his face, eyes glowing with evilness. "Sir, we need you on the field, all our backup is dead!" a panicked voice makes its way through the static and over the comms. "Stay right here you filthy female and don't make a sound or I won't hesitate to cut out your entire tongue out when I get back" he snarls before running out to the battlefield.

'If I yell someone might hear me and save me, or that freak will come back and cut out my tongue. Maybe I'll die when he does that, then I won't have to suffer anymore... it's worth a try' and then you start yelling with every ounce of energy and air left in your lungs. "Heeeeelp!!!" you cry out. The sound of your cries echoes through the room and into the hallway just outside the room. "Y/N?!" it takes a moment before you realize that it's not your echo boomeranging but someone calling out to you. "I don't know where I am...please help me!!!" you yell.

Steve follows your voice as the other Avengers fight of more HYDRA agents. When he enters the room and sees your hanging figure his heart breaks into pieces, shattering on the floor. "Y/N?" he carefully asks, to make his presence known. He slowly walks closer to you, purposely making his steps louder for you to hear and not to startle you. You lift your head up a bit, seeing Steve, before your head falls back down, your chin touching your collar bone. Steve assesses the entire contraption as he takes a few more steps closer to you.

~Flower #7: Gladiolus - means Heroism~

When Steve is standing in front of you, he carefully lifts your chin to make you look him in the eyes. "Steve" you whisper, throat dry, lips sticking together and tongue aching. "I'm here sweetheart" he comforts you, because he knows you'll need it to pull the next part off. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me" "hmn" you acknowledge him. "I'm going to cut the rope from this contraption and I'm going to hold you so you don't fall, I just need you to trust me and work with me" "okay" your small voice, make tears burn at the back of Steve's eyes and he has to fight hard to suppress them. He snakes an arm around your waist and cuts the rope, making you fall over his broad shoulders (fireman style carrying). A disgruntled sound leaves your throat when your shoulder flops around limply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Steve apologizes.

He carries you to the middle of the room and lays you down. He takes of his jacket, folds it and put it under your head as a pillow. "Sweetheart?" he lightly shakes your uninjured shoulder to get your attention. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" you nod your head 'no' before closing your eyes again. "I know you're tired, but you gotta stay awake just a little while longer okay?" You open your eyes again and Steve asks the same question "can you tell me where it hurts, sweetheart?" "my tongue" Steve knows about your tongue, but he lets you finish. "my shoulder" he saw your shoulder was out out of place when he cut the rope loose. "my ribs and my wrists" "Is that all?" Steve asks, and you just give him a simple nod, too tired and sore to talk.

"I'm going to first take a look at your shoulder" Steve says. He quickly informs the team of your whereabouts and then focuses all his attention back to you. He lifts your arm up, supports your shoulder with his one hand and pulls as hard as he can towards him. A high pitched scream leaves you, once again. "It's done, it's done" Steve cooes as he rubs his hands over your arms.

Just them Bucky and Natasha arrives at the scene. "It's all clear" Bucky relays to Steve. "Thanks guys" Steve thanks, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the Quinjet.

------

At the compound you were professionally taken care of. And later that night, you woke up to the soft 40's music playing in the background, Steve holding your hand and flowers next to your bed, with a note attached to it - "I love you so much Y/N, and nothing will ever take you away from me" You lightly tugged at Steve's hands and he woke up, but before he could speak you put your finger over his lips. "Just lie with me, please"

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

TAGLIST: (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you)

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus

[megumiya]

needy | oikawa tooru

↳ pairings. timeskip! oikawa tooru x f!reader

↳ summary. if only your boyfriend knew how hungry you were...

↳ includes. sub!oikawa + fingering + pet names + oikawa is called good boy + dry humping + praising + a little bit of handjob + overstimulation + unprotected sex + some degradation at the end. let me know if i missed something!!

↳ wc. 1.6k

a/n. first smutty long fic in my life sksksks hope this isn’t bad ssjjsjsj but yeah oikawa’s moans have been filling my thoughts lately edited: sorry for reposting again i noticed the one i uploaded before wasn't the edited doc :c

“I didn’t hear you arrive!”

Oikawa’s eyes flutter open at the sound of your voice. His tired body shifts its position on the couch to face you. Today’s training had left his limbs and body sore as ever and the only thing in his mind is the softness of your shared bed.

But your needs are different than his.

You clench your thighs, watching his legs spread on the couch, the fabric of his shorts looking a little too tight for his thighs and especially for his crotch, making the outline of his cock more visible than usual. 

“Hey princess”, he says, a slight smile gracing his lips as he stares at your figure wrapped in an oversized shirt. “sorry, baby, i just got home, training started a little la—”

“I missed you” you cut him off, placing yourself on his lap. Oikawa’s eyes squint in confusion noticing the notorious warmth radiating from your core. His gaze lowers trying to catch a glimpse of your underwear when you yank his hair, making him stare back at you.

Feeling his length right under your hole makes you bite back a moan before innocently throwing your arms around his neck. Your clothed breasts press against his torso evoking a smile from you when his breath hitches in his throat.

“A-are you alright, pretty girl?”, he asks, the growing tent on his shorts pressing more evidently against your naked cunt.

You shake your head and automatically his large palms find their way to your thighs, caressing the plush skin as they move up, reaching for the dip of your hips. His chocolate eyes widen when he notices the absence of your underwear “no panties?”

“I don’t need them, right now” your voice sends blood directly to his dick making him stiffen, “I need this”, you coo, batting your eyelashes as you palm his length. 

“Princess, wait—” he breathes, his head is thrown back as you rut your hips against his cock experimentally “Fuck―”

Smirking, you start humping against his shaft harder, firmly holding onto his neck for support. He is sure if you keep that pace you’re gonna make him cum in his shorts but he couldn’t care less.

You stare at your boyfriend with hungry eyes, watching with amusement how his face contorts as he gets close to his high. That’s when you stop humping him.

“Why—Why did you stop?” he says in the form of a weak pant as you grab his wrist pulling it between your legs, moaning when you feel the contact between his finger pads against your pussy lips.

“Good boys make their girlfriends cum with their fingers first. Yeah?”  your mouth latches at his jaw, leaving kisses and bites on your way to his neck, sucking his pale skin. He whines in desperation as you chuckle. “Mmh? Use your words”

A part of his brain still wants to sleep but the other gets drunk more and more in your praise, fantasizing about being used for the sake of your pleasure only, his body turn into a mere fuck toy.

“I’ll be a good boy! I’ll make you cum all the times you want, princess. Just want you to feel good” Oikawa whimpers, his hand still buried in between your thighs waiting for your approval to start working on your cunt.

 You smile sweetly at him before pressing a messy kiss on his lips, rutting your core against his palm. 

His long fingers trace the outline of your slit, quickly getting coated in your juices before spreading your pussy lips.

“Yeah, just like that!” you encourage him and Oikawa bites his bottom lip, suppressing a growl when he finds your puffy clit. 

Holding onto his shoulders, your nails dig into his skin as he starts making slow circles over the sensitive bud. He stares with nothing but pure fascination at the perfect  “O” your mouth makes with each of his strokes, your mind slowly drowning in pleasure.

One of his thick fingers slips into your drooling cunt, eliciting a loud moan from both of you. Giving slow, languid thrusts, he slides another finger in, knuckles deep inside you as his thumb reaches for your clit.

“ ‘M close Tooru”, you breathe, fueling new determination into the setter’s movements increasing the pace in which he’s thrusting his fingers, ignoring the ache of his wrist. You grasp his shoulders, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

Oikawa rubs your clit roughly, making your hips buckle against his palm as you chant his name. Your gummy walls tighten around his digits, creaming on his large hand and soaking him. He unplugs his fingers from your cunt watching with a happy smile the thin layer of your arousal coating them. 

“Go ahead,” you say and immediately he brings his fingers to his mouth, humming as he swirls his tongue around them. “Good boy, making me cum only with your fingers”

You lean, pressing a tender kiss on his lips as your hand snakes down to the hard bulge on his pants, ripping a whine from his lips.

“Does it hurt, baby?” 

Oikawa nods softly, strands of hair falling on top of his forehead as he stares at you with need. He only wanted to pass out on his pillow but now the ache beneath his shorts is too much to handle. 

 “Want to be inside you, please”, he mumbles with half-lidded eyes, earning a cocky smirk from you.

And who are you to deny when he has been such a good boy?

“Don’t worry Tooru, what type of girlfriend would I be if I left you full with cum?”

Sliding down his shorts, you lick your lips looking at the evident tent, noticing a dark patch on his underwear. You stare back at him, grinning at the blush on his cheeks before taking his shirt off.

Your movements are too slow for his liking. You play with the waistband of his boxers causing his hips to buckle up before tugging them off, finally letting his cock free. 

Throwing his head back, Oikawa hiss when the cold air hits his swollen dick. The tip of its, head angry red as trails of precum ooze from it, glistening under the lights of your living room making your mouth water.

You wrap your hand around the base giving it a few pumps that have a constant trail of pants and huffs coming out from your boyfriend as he straightens. His hands move to your hips as you place yourself above his aching dick.

“I missed your cock so much,” you say, lining your entrance with his length, slowly letting your weight drop until the fat head of his dick slides inside you, deliciously stretching you out. 

“So tight—” Oikawa mutters, eyes shut tight as your warm walls strangle him. He digs his fingers on your skin, a long moan slipping past his lips when you start rocking your hips “Fuck— gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum” 

Oikawa’s face heats up as his cock twitches inside you, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, sticking his brown locks to his forehead giving him a blissful look. You keep rolling your hips at a merciless pace when a broken moan falls from Oikawa’s mouth, white, sticky cum filling your cunt to the brim.

His sounds are enough to make your walls convulse too, milking him dry as you throw your head back, feeling hot spurts hitting your cervix. 

“Tooru, more~” you mewl and  his hips instinctively buckle up, desperately fucking his cum inside you, “~Need more of you”

“Princess, I—nghhhh” your hands travel to his chest, pinching his sensitive nipples and rolling them between your fingers drawing out the sweetest sounds from the setter. “—It’s too much!”

“But you said you’ll make me cum as many times as I want” you pout, halting your movements and staring at his fucked out expression with needy eyes. Oikawa looks down, remembering his words. He didn’t think you’ll be this insatiable tonight. “Just one more, okay?” 

He hardens again. Wondering how you’ll use him next was strangely arousing and with a weak nod, he grounds your hips, helping you ride his sensitive cock, ignoring the pain.

“Good boy” you praise, starting to bounce on his dick, ripping a stream of moans from his pretty mouth.

Finally, you remove your upper piece of clothing smoothly, allowing an eager Oikawa to latch his lips to your breasts. 

Between whines and huffs, he licks your nipple as his hand fondles your other tit, squeezing the soft flesh eliciting a whimper from you, a familiar heat nestling in your lower belly, making your eyes roll. 

Oikawa feels your pussy walls starting to spasm around him, Using the last bit of his energy, he grounds his feet on the floor to thrust up into you, searching for your climax. 

But the urge to cum is too big for him. His hips stutter for a moment before he paints your insides white, grasping firmly the skin of your hips.

“Sorry, sorry—” he whimpers with red cheeks before hissing at the extra sensitivity. Taking a shaky breath, he slams his hips upwards with deadly precision, hitting that spongy spot that had you gushing in seconds. 

Your mouth falls open, letting out a strangled moan, finally coming undone. The mix between your juices and his cum soak his lap and part of his shorts.

Covered in sweat, you both collapse on the couch, panting, completely exhausted.

“Thank you.” you say after a couple of minutes, pressing your cheek against his bare chest, suddenly yelping when his hand gropes your ass harshly.

“Ah, don’t thank me, doll, once I take a nap I'm gonna use you like a cumdump”

© megumiya 2021 — do not modify or repost

[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish�� (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He��s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.