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the-heaminator · 1 year

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Chapter 3 of the spy au

here on ao3

They stayed in that position for longer than they thought they would, first off it was not planned, it would offset their entire day, but something they particularly liked doing, secondly they were sleeping on Eleanor's bed, who speaking of, woke up not too long afterwards, maybe an hour later, she squirmed her way out, usually the blanket was not this heavy, nor this stiff, nor this warm, and when she poked her bleary head out of the blankets, she saw Arthur and Ivan lay asleep there.

Ivan was still mostly upright but hunched forwards in a way that would not be nice for the back, Arthur was smaller and had almost curled up on top of Ivan's lap like a cat would, both looked really quite tired now. They both were tired, bone-dead exhaustion, neither was ready to admit it of course but by how eagerly their bodies took the opportunity to rest, not even on their own beds, said enough.

It took her a moment to realise where she was and who they were, any 7 year old would've panicked, but at this point, she honestly could not care less, Jack was still asleep, he was loud, energetic, and hyperactive, and that did really take a toll on the body and he needed the sleep on the off chance he got it, and she plodded out of bed, she couldn't see Alfie or Matt but she knew where they would be, she used the stool to put in the key to the keypad and left, the door closing with a quiet thunk behind her.

She wandered into the back rooms, that's what she liked to call it at least, she could hear Alfred and Matt laughing and other varying sounds of the two that cannot be transcribed, the little motor cars that Alfred had tinkered together for the both of them could be heard too, he made one for each of them, Jack broke his remarkably quickly and took it apart. He said he needed it for something and absolutely no one was sure for what. She still had hers but it was jammed. She would fix that herself please and thank you very much.

"Eli! Finally, come watch."

Alfred was excited, as he always was when he tested out his little inventions, they were really not inventions all that often, he just liked calling them that, an invention meant that it had never been made before, these certainly had been but everyone let him have his moments. The tech lab had made a whole thing of giving them a box of miscellaneous functional but a bit useless equipment every month, and Alfred always burned through that box quickly, both metaphorically and sometimes literally.

She squatted next to Matt, she would sit next to Alfred but he was in a mood and he was a little feral like this, accidentally hit her around the face as he did a particularly large flourish, idiot.

Matthew's and Alfred's cars chased each other, here and there until Matthew's somehow managed to gain some speed after being on a bit of ground with a tad less friction and rammed into Alfred's. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on, Alfred looked downright pissed, and Eleanor was just observing.

"Aww, I'm gonna have to rebuild this. Again!"

"Then maybe stop losing so much Alfred." Oh, he was taking the mick out, it was funny to watch, usually, it was the other way around and a bit less pointed, Matthew could and would roast like all hell when given the chance, and despite being older Alfred looked chastised as usual when Matthew pulled something like this off.

Eleanor was a well-behaved 7-year-old, but even she couldn't stay still for this long without something to interest her, she retrieved the cars, both sparking a bit, Alfred's considerably more because Matthew didn't just manage to hit it, but also hit it into a fucking wall. She had noticed that the wall had a couple odd dried stains on it that looked an awful lot like blood, but she could never figure out whose or what the blood belonged to and just how old it was.

Alfred then absentmindedly asked, "Yo Matt what do you think those old guys are doing upstairs?"

Matthew didn't have an answer to that, Eleanor did "They're both still sleeping."

"Still? It's been like 4 hours, don't they have shit to do?"

Matthew interjected "Should we wake them up then? They've been asleep a long time and I don't think they wanted to sleep very much?"

Eleanor said something about why would they be sleeping if they didn't want to, she still was yet to understand that the will of the mind and the will of the body did not align very well most of the time, especially for those two, both being as exhausted, and downright stubborn as they were, probably hardly slept in the past week if the looks of them were anything to go by, "Yea we should probably wake them up, and Jack, he's not going to sleep tonight if we don't."

That was not a nice thought, as much as they loved Jack, him awake and loud at 11 in the fucking night was not something they liked to experience, he was old enough to reign himself in somewhat, better than when he was only in the single digits, but still even reigned in he was a lot to deal with. Matthew also wanted to make sure he and Jack didn't go off and accidentally kill themselves doing something stupid, those two shared a goddamn braincell and it had a chronic deficiency of common sense no matter how you looked at it.

Honestly, even Eleanor had more common sense than both of them combined.

Arthur and Ivan had scarcely moved from where they had originally fallen asleep, neither noticed that the original occupant of the bed was gone, nor that they weren't really in their own beds, and even less so that they were sleeping with each other, Arthur was cold, he was usually cold when he slept, Ivan was very much not cold, and he was far softer than the desk he usually ended up falling asleep at, for Ivan Arthur was small, he barely registered the weight but had unconsciously started to curl around Arthur who was nearly in fetal position, regression in sleep.

Jack had become the blankets on his bed, he always managed to become a cocoon when he couldn't have been able to, he was just built a little different, and he was cold, again he was a lizard in every way but biologically, he got grouchy and as bitter as a 10-year-old could be when cold and tired, and could channel the power of the sun when he smiled when it was sunny out, no one knew how, the doors opened with a soft clunk and closed again with a slightly lower noise, they had agreed to try and wake everyone up nicely and without water being involved.

Eleanor went up first, she jumped on the lump of blankets that was Jack and violently shook him "Oi, wake up!" Jack made a rather select sound that once again I'm not sure is possible to transcribe, he got up blearily, blinking hard to clear the sleep from his eyes "Wha' is it?"

Matthew coughed lightly and said, "Jack it's past midday, you need to wake up."

"Five more fuckin' minutes?"

"Language!"

He had the worst bedhead known to man Jesus christ on a bike, he sat up and glared, before softening and picking himself out of bed, he pointed at the two still asleep "So whatcha gonna do about them?"

"We're gonna wake them up of course!"

"But how?" Matthew being the voice of reason as usual "I do not think they would take well to being woken up suddenly, and I like my spleen please and thank you very much."

Jack ignored this, he did have some self-preservation, not much though, and he was not going to waste it on a moment like this, he approached the two, Matthew facepalmed, at this point if he was going to be stupid then let him face the goddamn consequences, he walked up to them and jabbed Arthur in the side, it was what was most exposed, Ivan was more covered by Arthur and that thick jacket he liked wearing, and Arthur was curled up like a cat, a lot of side was exposed.

The thing was that he didn't wake up, he muttered something unintelligible before immediately going back to sleep, which would naturally wake most people up, it woke Matthew up and he slept like a log when he did, this was not normal, he tried again, this time he didn't even get a response, only the slight sounds of teeth being gritted together and then nothing.

Jack looked puzzled "Mattie, Alfred? This is not normal is it?"

Alfred couldn't particularly deny that he was a little concerned, it was hard to wake Matthew up on a good day, but he really seemed to be out of it, Jack did not wait for an answer and deftly did the same for Ivan, Ivan did, in fact, wake up, unlike somebody, rapidly shooting straight with a somewhat audible crack of the back, knocking Arthur off, who did not wake up somehow, he looked blearily at Jack and said: "Where in the love of mother Mary's womb am I?"

Now they had heard a lot of creative curses but this was most certainly a new one for their ears, he looked around for a moment before everything seemed to register, he dropped his voice to something quieter, he had said his odd curse pretty loudly, to what he thought was quiet at least, not very much so but to his shitty ears he thought he was quiet, no one dared to point that out.

"Ah, apologies, I do not know what came over us...we should probably leave."

He prodded Arthur violently, but he did not wake up, shook him, but all he got was a muffled curse, Ivan raised his eyebrows, he couldn't do just one, he put his ear next to Arthur's chest, he was sure he was alive, but it was useful to check the heart rate, that said he was just asleep but why the actual fuck wouldn't he wake up.

There was half a glass of water on the table at the side of Eleanor's bed, and considering that Arthur seemed to not want to wake up nicely, drastic measures would have to be taken, everyone was fighting down the urge to burst into laughter, Eleanor failed and started laughing into her hands, this was a scene out of a looney toones cartoon what the fuck, he repositioned Arthur's head so the water wouldn't make her bed too wet, he didn't wake up even then, slept like the dead he was, and dumped the glass of water on his face.

Then he woke up, sputtering and hissing, he blinked and shit registered for him far quicker than it did for Ivan "What the fuck was that for Ivan?!"

"You weren't waking up normally, so force had to be used."

"Bastard, you could have just shaken me or something?"

Alfred interjected, he had bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter "Ivan tried that, and Jack jabbed you in the ribs."

Arthur had a foul face on, quite a difference from the peacefulness he had not moments ago, they both looked at each other, they didn't remember falling asleep on each other or anything, no one else could decipher it, but what it was was confused, Ivan really was warm, but Arthur would not normally have let his guard down enough to sleep on him, no matter how many times he had wanted to do that in the past.

He was normally a decently light sleeper, if he wasn't let's just say he would have been in big trouble many times before, curse his tiredness.

Matthew piped up, cutting off Alfred who was going to say something, no doubt something stupid with the little gleam he had in his eyes "You said that after Eleanor and Jack woke up, you will discuss the mission with us."

"Right, yes, that, that we shall do." Ivan sounded somewhat distracted and he looked around for the file and saw it on the chest of drawers next to Alfred's bed.

Arthur got up, and dried his face on his shirt, or he tried to, his face was a little pink, either from embarrassment or cold, perhaps both, Ivan picked up the file, again he was always surprised by its heft, it was more a folder than a file really, there was a table in the room too, but it wasn't big enough, probably, for all 6, and there weren't enough chairs, this was fixed by Eleanor and Jack sitting on the table, Ivan opened the folder and shook out the contents.

There were a lot of papers, as was to be expected, the majority of these were put to the side, housing agreements, insurance and the like, boring adult things, things such as marriage documents, fucking marriage documents, stayed out, as well as information to where the children would be enrolled in, and finally out clinked a little pouch, heavier than expected, the pouch was of dark silk, fancily embroidered and all.

They were the rings.

This was getting too real too fucking fast, of course, they had been fake married in the past, but always to people who knew it was meant to be for a month or something, it was easy to imitate newlyweds, be close and just a little over the top, it was believable and they were both pretty good actors, but trying to imitate an old married couple, with 4 kids no less, would be significantly more difficult for them.

Alfred had started to look through some of the papers, they weren't particularly interesting, Matthew was looking through the other pile, both trying to ignore or rather trying not to laugh at the odd faces the adults were making, the other two just sort of sat there, watching as the tension in the room slowly thickened enough to be spread over bread like jam.

Arthur delicately poked his fingers into the punch and fished out two rings, one significantly larger than the other, Arthur's hands were relatively dainty, as was the rest of him, womanly hands apparently as Francis had pointed out once or twice before, said hands smacked him across the face each time. Bastard he was.

Ivan had picked up this smaller ring, rotated a bit in the chair, shuffled really, he seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible, forcibly making direct eye-to-eye contact, and coughing awkwardly, the eldest stopped fiddling with the papers as they watched. Why the fuck were they so goddamn awkward and why was it so fucking funny.

Arthur flushed just a little, Ivan's ears were a dark shade of red, Arthur picked up the larger ring while he was at it. This was actually happening, not a weird dream, it kind of felt like it, but no, this was actually goddamn happening, Ivan picked up Arthur's right hand and slipped the ring onto his ring finger, it was a simple thing, silver by the looks of it, probably would need to be touched up often or it would tarnish, silver had a habit of tarnishing.

He didn't question why Ivan put the finger on his right hand, he would ask later, he picked up Ivan's left hand, large, heavy and calloused, Arthur's hands had thick skin yes, but they weren't calloused per se, the ring looked oddly large compared to Arthur's hand.

This could've gone as smoothly as it did the other way round, it did not, the ring got jammed halfway down Ivan's finger, Ivan growled at the back of his throat, likely embarrassed by the way the tinge of pink in his ears spread downwards to the rest of his face, Matthew was biting his tongue, Alfred his lip, Jack looked like he just swallowed a plum and Eleanor didn't know what was exactly all that funny, but she didn't say anything, there was something going on definitely she just didn't know what precisely.

Arthur pulled it off with some force, he could jam it down but that would probably not be beneficial in the long run, so he settled for putting it on the pinky, where it fit far better.

Ivan really wanted to bury his head in his hands, mainly because that was so fucking embarrassing but also holy shit this was actually happening. For some reason however it felt different to the usual fake marriages they partook in, he couldn't point exactly what it was but it was certainly different somehow.

They sort of just sat there for a second, a lot of things had happened today, way too many things in both of their opinions, Arthur fiddled with the ring absentmindedly, fuck he was married? And this was meant to be an at least somewhat long-term thing. Not that he was complaining, he got along with Ivan pretty well, he was a good cook and all, he would make sure everyone ate enough, he could clean pretty well, came with the job really he had had to clean up a lot of things he wasn't particularly proud of.

Oh who was he lying to, the thrill that came with the kill was hard to replace, though that thrill had dulled overtime quite a bit, the children were the main problem, they had no idea how to raise children, hell they barely knew what to do with themselves now, let alone them, neither got overwhelmed easily, they could both raise hell if they wanted to, and frankly have, but this was too much.

Too much going on, but also nothing going on, nothing felt right. This did not feel normal. This was not normal.

Breathe.

Breathe. Panicking would do nothing but make the situation worse, it showed on neither of their faces, Arthur's hands had clenched over each other all of a sudden and Ivan had started to vibrate, before both going completely still, and as if nothing happened, calling the children over after they extracted what would be their school enrollment, and the smaller file within the larger one that would detail where they would be posted and why, where they would stay, where they would work, all that jazz.

It seemed to be not too far away from here, 2 to 3 hours by car, not too far from the coast either, hounding a man called something utterly daft, the secondary school seemed well enough, a little old fashioned (the uniforms had winter caps) the primary school seemed rather run of the mill, though both were better than the little hellholes that Arthur and Ivan grew up in, the jobs were already dealt with, they would have to move into the house provided in the next month and get the kids in school by the next two.

The agency had already fabricated an entire past for them, and it wasn't hard to slip into such roles, they had done it so many times before that it only felt natural, the children crowded around when things referring to them came up, they were asked to sign in some places, Jack and Eleanor were mind-numbingly bored, Matthew and Alfred were too they were just better at hiding it, and finally, finally, the paperwork was done, neither of the adults seemed to be in a speaking mood, both completely engrossed in what they were doing.

It was starting to get dark by the time they realised they should probably leave, they bid the children farewell and stepped out into the corridor.

Inside everyone simultaneously lost their shit, the end part was boring, that was true, paperwork was like that, but everything before was just wonderful. They seemed to be trainwrecks, the both of them, but oddly enough they did seem to care, if yet it was still quite detached, something told them that this would go quite well for them, but right now they were starving, they would deal with that.

Outside Ivan and Arthur returned through those rank tunnels, they weren't sure the proper way to get back, and this felt so godawfully nostalgic that they wanted to walk through them again, maybe to once more catch whiff of their feral youth.

They walked in silence for a good while, Arthur held the file under his arm, shoes clicked clacking across the stones underfoot. For some reason the tension was high, it shouldn't be, but it was, there were little dried splatters of blood on the wall, and Ivan was viscerally reminded of smashing Arthur against said wall and punching him in the face, Arthur seemed to enjoy it then.

The wall was still stained with their stupidity from decades ago, neither brought it up though and Arthur spoke, pleasantly, in the type of voice that sounded just the smallest bit forced "Would you like to come over to my place to fill out the rest of these documents, there are plenty and I feel we have a lot to discuss anyhow."

Ivan nodded slowly, yes, that would be nice, and thank the lord he didn't ask to go to Ivan's, that, that was not clean at all, he could clean yes, he just more often didn't when it came to where he lived, he was going to move out in a couple months anyways, probably.

He just hoped Arthur had something to eat, he was fucking starving, he hadn't eaten all day, he knew that he was unlikely to have very much, I mean this was Arthur of course, food was not usually in the forefront of his mind unless he was actually about to pass out.

They finally got out of those tunnels in relative silence and tapped out of the building, they used the hands without the rings, mainly because there was security present and she loved needling them, they swore they did not look all that suspicious, she said nothing this time and let them pass.

Arthur's place was not too far away from here at all, they could walk in in about 15 minutes or so, which they did, and as Ivan expected, it was nearly spotless, save for the desk which looked like a category 3 hurricane hit it, papers strewn about, too many mugs and pens all over it, Ivan couldn't complain, that would be hypocritical of him, his entire flat looked like that, the table was quickly cleared, mostly, a chair pulled up for Ivan, and they got to work.

Arthur was squinting for an awfully long while as he read, the font size was less than ideal was what was likely, Ivan was still fucking hungry but didn't want to bring it up just yet, they had a job to do, reading forms, signing all that jazz, they'd done it plenty of times before, making up signatures was fun, they were good at it, but now Arthur's head hurt something aggressive and Ivan's stomach was practically yelling at him. But they had to finish this all, absolute demon pile of paperwork.

They tried, truly they did, Arthur grew excessively grouchy as was his way, he kept up an unending stream of increasingly vibrant curses under his breath as he worked his way through it, pretty loudly really, a lot of them involved various animals and various deities, that is all I believe you need to know, Ivan wouldn't have it anymore, and he needed his tea, Arthur probably did too, and it would somewhat placate his appetite, probably.

He scraped his chair across the floor and got up stiffly, "Do you want tea, Arthur?"

"Yes, but why are you doing it? Let me, sit down."

He obeyed and sat down, Arthur got up and bustled about in the small kitchen, he could hear the kettle being put on, muffled curses as he dropped the box of teabags, there was just enough milk for the both of them, just enough, he would have to get more, he also belatedly realised he should probably offer up some biscuits, which he only had a half-eaten sleeve of digestive, but it was close enough, tea was brought in two large steaming mugs, with the biscuits precariously balanced over the mugs.

One for Arthur, one for Ivan, they were battered and chipped, he usually disposed of most of his possessions when he moved around, it was only natural, the furnishings were already provided, but he liked to keep his mugs, and had gained quite a large stash over the years, the digestives were set down too, there weren't many left to begin with, Arthur had 2 and Ivan got through the rest of the packet, almost unknowingly, the tea was strong and sweet, exactly what they needed at this time.

Unfortunately, there was no coffee available at the moment, Arthur had just finished it yesterday and hadn't had time to pick more up, hence him being so godawfully tired the entire day, Ivan didn't particularly like coffee but it was useful for times like this, and besides they had already slept for a good couple hours before this, they were not proud of it, but it happened anyways, but they couldn't pull something off like that again.

Both their teas had gone told by the time they finished it, and neither was bothered to get up to microwave it, it tasted horrible and Ivan's had half a soggy digestive at the bottom of it, Arthur's headache had reached breaking point, and by extension so had Arthur, so many forms, so much bloody fine print, the curses had become exceedingly more explosive and genuinely angry sounding, sure they were both generally pretty high strung, came with the job, but he was getting stressed.

Ivan would be a bigass hypocrite if he said he wasn't, he was more irritable than stressed though, he needed to move, get out of this fucking chair, stop doing bloody paperwork, and he needed fucking food dammit.

Arthur set down his pen with an odd calmness and a slightly off expression on his face, Ivan had seen it before a-plenty, oh he was pissed, he was either going to start hitting something or yelling...o-or just sitting on the sofa, back straight and facing forward.

That was not expected at all, he seemed to take a moment to compose himself before returning back to the seat, in seemingly better spirits, not really but it did at least seem so, Ivan checked the clock on the wall, it was a little difficult to see in the dim light but it was eleven something, jesus how long had they been doing this?

On cue, Ivan's stomach rumbled long, low and loud, "Do you have anything to eat?"

Arthur seemed puzzled for a second, before he registered that Ivan was talking about food, he wasn't sure what he was confusing it with to be fair, he might've just been a bit slow today, was he hungry? He hadn't eaten all day so he probably should be, but was he was the question, Ivan certainly was, and he was getting a tad pissy so he should probably get some food even if he wasn't particularly all that hungry, courtesy and all.

He was also thankful for the chance to get up, his back was killing him jesus christ, Ivan was still doing what he was meant to do while Arthur rifled about the fridge and cabinets, the spoils of that endeavour were a little sad to look at, a couple eggs, half a loaf of bread, potatoes and 3 tins of beans. As you can tell Arthur did not eat with too much regularity, and he cooked even less often.

There wasn't much you could do with that, a fry up or jacket potato with eggs and toast, both far closer to breakfast food than something you would eat at eleven in the night, Arthur contemplated just eating beans and bread, what he usually ate, as I said he could not cook, motherfucker could probably burn cereal if he tried "Ivan! Uh, what do you want to eat?"

From the room "What do you have?"

Arthue recounted his spoils, heard the scraping of a chair and Ivan's footsteps and he turned up in the kitchen "You can't be serious?"

He looked at the counter and indeed upon it was half a loaf of bread, a couple eggs, potatoes and 3 tins of beans. Arthur was indeed being serious, he didn't look flustered per se, but it was close enough "I haven't been grocery shopping in a while" he paused for a second and added "cunt", for good measure seemingly.

I mean they hadn't exactly had breakfast so it couldnt have een too bad, making up for not eating breakfast at eleven p-fucking-m.

Arthur tentatively raised that they could just eat beans on cold bread and call it a night, beans on toast was sad enough, but why on cold goddamn bread, why would you do that to yourself, Ivan looked at Arthur "No. No we will not do that. Get me a frying pan."

Arthur complied, the frying pan seemed nearly unused, none of the debris or detritus that came with a well used bit of cookware, he internally sighed, Arthurn seemed to be trying to look over his shoulder in the most childish way possible as Ivan cooked, he really did not know how to cook huh, and this wasn't particularly hard, the stove was also almost completely clean, there was a singular burn mark and that looked like it had come from milk overflowing but again not much else.

He asked for the toaster, and finally came an appliance that looked well used, that was to be expected, of course he lived off of toast, he certainly looked it, he toasted what was left of the loaf Ivan made eggs, whatever not sunny side up was called, the potatoes were boiled. Arthur seemed not to own an oven otherwise they would be baked, the beans were warmed, nothing about this was difficult, yet Arthur stayed well away from anything cooking but looked on in sleepy interest. Ivan was exhausted too, but hunger won out, and while the meal was simple, the kitchen smelt divine and seemed alive for once

The meal was simple but filling, Arthur ate more than Ivan and indeed himself thought he would, he seemed a little surprised that he finished his plate, and that he wanted more, but insomnia makes one ravenous, as does stress, and neither had slept properly in fuck knows how long, it was past midnight now, they should get on with what they needed to, but they were full and warm, Arthur significantly more full than he was used to, and he still hadn't had his caffeine yet.

Eh maybe they could postpone this until tomorrow, it was too late now and they would probably cock up at this rate, Arthur fiddled with his ring again, it was oddly calming, he was in an oddly soft mood today though for some unknown reason, today had been merely odd. A lot had happened, a bit too much really. For the both of them.

After they ate, Ivan seemed to belatedly realise he had to get home, there were no buses running this late at night, not in this area at least, and Ivan lived a decent distance away "You know, you could always stay here the night, I've got more than silently the room?"

Ivan really wanted to flat out deny, that would be wrong to just take advantage if some bodies hospitality, but he was godawfully tired, and even in the dim light, Ivan could see Arthur was too, neither were in much of a mood for fussing and limp formalities, Ivan yawned and scratched his face "Mmh, I'll take the sofa yes?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose, something about Ivan sleeping on the sofa didn't sit right with him, it wasn't even a particularly comfortable sofa, might've been less of an issue if the sofa was actually nice and his moral compass was as broken as it usually was, but right now he didn't want Ivan to sleep on the shitty sofa, "No, no you will not do that, the sofa hurts your back like shit. You sleep on the bed, I'll take the sofa."

"Now how does that make sense, you live here?"

"Do you want to sleep on the shitty sofa?"

"Do you?"

Arthur rubbed his forehead with his hand, "Fine, do you want to sleep in the bed with me?" That was said as a joke, mostly, maybe.

He didn't expect Ivan to smile, not the cold calculated one he was used to, but a toothy and likely genuine one "I mean we are married now, I think we should get used to it no?"

He had a fucking point there, and Arthur was too tired, and a little too inquisitive to argue, another thing was that Ivan hadn't brought any clothes with him, none if the day was planned and he was still in his suit, he had taken off his coat as he came in, I mean he had slept in it before, he didn't mind doing it again, but still.

Well he couldn't sleep in his boxers and undershirt with Arthur, that would be weird. And Arthur most definitely did not win anything that would come even remotely close to fitting him, so in his shirt he slept, Arthur lay down first, claimed one side of the bed, Ivan had the other then.

They would not cuddle.

They wOULD NOT CUDDLE.

News flash, they did indeed end up cuddling, Arthur had buried himself deep into the warm blanket, but as always, he was cold, and the warmest thing in the bed was Ivan, and asleep he really could not care less, he was even softer than he thought, clinging to him almost like a backpack while Ivan snored away like a bloody jackhammer, Arthur was too asleep to notice, at some point Ivan ended up hugging him back, almost absolutely squeezing him, in a nice way of course, Arthur was warm and Ivan was accompanied, this was good for the both of them, Arthur kept unintelligibly mumbling in his sleep, Ivan had thrown his leg and an arm over him almost protectively, Arthur curled up under it.

This was good, too bad this would be over in the morning.

#Hws England #hws russia #Ruseng #Hws America #Hws canada #Hws New Zealand #Hws australia #The Children are such fucking shitheads ilove them #Fun fact I managed to use fuck 21 times her #Spy au #The heam writes #WEVE GOT FAKE MARRIAGE FAKE ADOPTIPM THERES ONLY ONE BED WE GOT RETIRED WE GOT SHARING A MEAL

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afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years

Text

Not A Date

Summary: You’re Bruce’s cute little intern and he has a crush on you, but doesn’t want to admit it. Except Thor’s kind of his best friend and can tell. He just needs a little push.

Pairings: Bruce Banner x black!reader x Thor

Warnings: smut, mmf threesome, age gap, daddy kink, swearing

(A/N: decided to change it up a little to celebrate 500 followers 🥳. It’s a little long. Enjoy, like, and reblog.)

Tagged: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya, @sweeterthanthis , @night-of-the-living-shred, @mariahthelioness29, @liquorlaughslove, @blackmissfrizzle

Bruce would have never thought about being with someone that worked under him until you. He liked to think of himself as a man with integrity when he wasn’t the Hulk. Yet he found himself thinking about you in the worst ways.

It was worse because you were half his age. He never wanted to cross that line. Despite Tony trying to convince him to ask you out for drinks. He didn’t wanna freak you out or make you think he was a creep. You really had no business looking that sexy in a lab coat, though.

What was worse was that it seemed like he couldn’t get a break from you. You genuinely enjoyed his company. You were eager to learn and Banner was definitely eager to teach you.

The only problem? Thor had taken a liking to you. How the fuck was he supposed to compete with that.

Would you rather have Banner? A nerd that spends all day in the lab or Thor. A king from another planet whose people had been forced hereafter said planet had been destroyed. The choice seemed pretty obvious to him.

Not that Thor wasn’t great. After everything that’s happened Bruce and Thor were practically best friends. Thor gotten him through a really rough time and obviously Banner had been there to help the god save his people. Then after everything with Thanos. They’d bonded in a way neither of them had expected.

He doesn’t even know why he tortures himself thinking about it. It was bad enough that the King of New Asgard was making googly eyes at you. Or that you seemed to be reciprocating it.

You were doing it right now. Laughing about something he said while his friend trailed his different colored eyes up and down your body. He couldn’t even blame him.

“Banner, you want to come out with us for dinner?” Thor had asked as you’d started taking off your coat getting ready to leave the lab for the day.

Bruce sighed. Why did Thor have to torture him like that. “No, it’s okay.”

“Oh, come on, Dr. Banner,” your voice was so smooth and sultry. Like you were always about to whisper something dirty. “Come out with us. All work and no play make you a dull boy.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your date,” he said as he finished packing up.

You tilted your head to the side with those confused puppy dog eyes. “Date? This isn’t a date. We’re just bored. And I wanna get drunk.”

“Yeah.” Thor nodded. “Just three friends having a few drinks and dinner.”

Banner looked between the two. Both of them with those sweet looks on their faces. Why the fuck did Thor have to be one of the nicest beings he’d ever met. It was hard to say no to him.

“Okay fine. Where are we going?” He asked as he finished packing up.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I get nachos!” You replied with a grin. “But I need to change first. I feel icky.”

Bruce had decided to do the same. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to at least look nice for the first time you’d be seeing him out of work. Not that he was planning on acting out on any feelings. Again. He didn’t wanna freak you out.

“I know your secret.” Thor narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face making Bruce almost smack onto him when he’d walked out of his room.

“Jesus, Thor!” He put his hand over his heart trying to not freak out completely.

He put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I do know your secret, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You like Lady Y/N. Am I right?”

His jaw dropped, but he tried to sober up quickly. “Wha- what. Why, why would, what makes you think that?” He stuttered.

“I’m a fertility god.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I can tell these things.”

“Oh...” he trailed off his cheeks getting bright red.

Thor laughed. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. She’s beautiful.”

“She’s half my age,” he replied.

“So?” He frowned in confusion. Of course, Thor would have no concept of an age difference when he’d lived through centuries.

Bruce sighed. “So, it’ll look odd if I start dating my twenty-five-year-old intern, Thor.”

He shrugged. “Look I’m sure Stark has done much worse. Don’t worry about what people will think or you’ll never get your chance.”

—

You sipped from your margarita from your spot beside him. Why’d you have to be so close. Not that he was complaining. You’d started drinking the tequila before you’d even gotten the chance to get your food.

It was so different seeing you out of the lab and compound. You were dressed so simply in a white v neck tucked into your black jeans and a pair of black boots, but you looked so good. Your hair was up and done in your natural look. Like a cute pineapple.

“Wait, can either of you even get drunk?” You asked.

Thor had set down his beer and nodded. “I can, there’s nothing like Asgardian mead, though. What about you, Banner?”

“I don’t drink. Not sure how the big guy would react,” he answered.

She nodded. “That makes sense. Hope you guys don’t mind if I get drunk as fuck.”

“Feel free,” Thor replied. “We’ll protect you. Won’t we?” Thor kicked him lightly under the table.

“Yeah... yeah,” Bruce replied.

“Dr. Banner, loosen up. We’re here to have fun.” You nudged him.

“Yeah you’re right,” he replied a tiny smile appearing on his face as he tapped his fingers against the table. “I guess a beer wouldn’t hurt. If anything, we can just stay at Tony’s.”

“How many homes does this man have?” You asked wrinkling your nose.

—

Thor spun around with you on his back as you guys walked towards the entrance of the complex Bruce had told you that Tony wouldn’t mind if the three of you crashed in for the night. Just because Stark Tower was gone didn’t mean the billionaire didn’t have other properties around New York.

Banner laughed as he walked behind the both of you. He’d stuck to a beer to be safe and had loosened up at least a tad. He’d enjoyed seeing you have fun more than anything. All those stories the three of you would share. Of course, nothing compared to the odd adventures Thor had over the centuries, but still entertaining nonetheless.

Once you’d made it in you pretty much skipped inside as you looked around the penthouse. “Wow is it weird that I’m surprised that he’s trusting us with this place?”

“What’s not to trust?” Banner asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, come on. This is the face of a troublemaker.” You made a kissy face at him.

He shook his head. “You look like you stay up watching Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Hey! Bill Nye is a national treasure. I used to have a crush on him. I think I have a thing for nerds.” You shrugged as you walked over to the kitchen.

Thor wiggled his eyebrows at Banner before motioning at him with his head. Bruce in turn shook his head at his friend. “Just talk to her,” Thor whispered still a little too loudly.

“No,” he replied.

“Think Tony will get mad if I drink some of his wine?” You asked as you took a wine glass.

“Eh, Stark will be fine,” Thor replied. “Enjoy yourself.”

So, the three of you had settled down to watch a movie. You’d also maybe raided the pantry which led to you and Thor throwing M&Ms into each other’s mouths while Bruce munched on chips. “At least Tony let us stay in the place that has snacks.” You laughed.

“Or does he know?” Thor asked with a smirk leaning over to steal one of Bruce’s chips.

“We’re not breaking and entering, are we? Because you guys might be able to get out of it, but...”

“We’re fine,” he answered, waving you off. “This is like the party house.”

“Yeah and where he goes when he wants to snack away from Pepper,” Bruce said with a smirk on his face.

“Wow shady, Dr. Banner,” you gasped with a giggle.

He groaned. “How many times have I told you to call me Bruce.”

“What if I like it?” You teased. “Besides if I call you Bruce I’m gonna end up calling you Brucie.”

“How about you can call me whatever you want then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he knew he was in for trouble. “Fine. What if I call you Daddy?”

For a minute, Bruce was sure his brain had short circuited. As soon as that word left your mouth, he could feel it happen. He closed his eyes for a minute. Almost like he was savoring it. He opened his mouth ready to say something witty or flirty or anything and, “Uhhhh...” It was like his voice had short circuited.

“Bruce, I’m kidding.” You laughed as you stood up, poking his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

As his friend was trying to process what had just happened, Thor sat beside staring at him with a dopey grin on his face. “I told you,” he teased waving his hands excitedly.

“She was just joking,” he quickly retorted.

Thor shook his head still absolutely beaming. “No. She’s totally into you.”

Bruce groaned because even if you were, it was still so inappropriate. “Thor, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Who’s going to stop you?” Thor shrugged. “Now fuck the twenty-five-year-old or whatever that is.”

“Thor!�� Banner said, feeling himself almost lose control. The Hulk must have had a crush on you, too, because he did not like the other man talking about you like that.

Thor quickly sobered up, not meaning to push him that far. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Is everything okay?” You asked peeking out of the bathroom. You looked a little panicked because in the few weeks you’d been helping him you’d never seen him go Hulk. This was the first time you’d even gotten a glimpse of him.

“Yeah. Just...” Thor looked at Bruce. “Give us a minute, Sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you replied softly biting your lip and close the door again. You’d already been over so many evacuations plan for just in case it happened, but you kind of cared about him so it would be kinda hard to see him like that.

“You okay?”

Bruce had his eyes closed and nodded. “No. I’m fine. I just... he wanted to come out and play a little.”

“You sure? We can go for a walk if you want. Clear your mind or whatever.”

He laughed. “No. I’m okay. Thanks. Y/N, you can come in!”

You peeked your head out again, looking between the two of them. “Everything cool?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Bruce answered feeling a little bad if he’d scared you.

You came back over and took a seat on the couch that was across from them. Like you weren’t sure if you should get close.

“Y/N, you can sit here,” he said, looking down at your former spot on the floor.

You knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but this kind of felt like a command and you found yourself complying. You weren’t even sure if it was from what’d just happened or from the daddy thing. “Okay,” you replied softly, making your way over.

You sat criss cross applesauce in between them. Thor peeked out from over the top of your head, staring him down. ‘Do it,” the god mouthed to him. You looked over and groaned. “Shoot forgot to get more wine,” you said standing up again.

“Banner, be a man,” Thor mumbled.

“I could say the same thing for you.”

“I am a man. I would have kissed her already. Taken control. Like a man.”

“I don’t want to scare her off.”

“So, you do like her!” Another grin grew on his face. “I told you.”

Bruce groaned softly. “Why would I want to do that with you here anyway?”

“Just trust me on this,” he replied as you walked up with another glass. They probably should have stopped you because by now you were pretty tipsy.

“Ohh, trust you with what?” You asked, sitting back in your spot.

“Nothing,” Banner replied. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, but he won’t admit it.” Thor added with a dramatic sigh.

You scrunched up your face in this cute pout as you got on your knees to wrap your arms around Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Brucie. I won’t let Thor bully you.”

Thor was so giddy.

Your breasts were so close to his face. “I thought you were supposed to call me Daddy?” He asked, looking up at you.

You got back on your knees your arms still around him. “Bruce! You’re so bad.” He could have done it. Just moved a little bit closer. Instead he froze again.

At that exact moment. While you were waiting right there. For him to just move closer to you. To connect your lips. His fucking phone rang. He groaned, resting his head against your shoulder. He dug it into his pockets to answer it. “Fucking Tony.”

You retracted your arms as he got up to take it. You leaned back resting your ass on your heels. “What, Tony?” He said a little harshly into the phone after he’d made it into the hallway.

“Where’d you put my wrench?” He asked and Bruce could hear the clattering of things being moved in the background.

“Seriously? This is what you’re calling me about?” Bruce laughed sarcastically.

“I texted you, but you never got back to me. I knew you three were out on your date thing.”

“It’s not a date, we’re just hanging out,” Bruce replied clearing his throat. “Why would you call it a date?”

“Yeah, whatever. Keep lying to yourselves. Anyway, where’s my wrench?”

It took a minute, but he’d finally found it and he was hoping he could get back to where the two of you were a moment ago.

It didn’t even make any sense. He was a fifty-year-old man, he shouldn’t have even been trying anything with you. Yet there he was ready to risk it all. For as Thor kept putting it, twenty-five-year-old pussy.

Of course, though, Bruce had the worst luck in the world. Between the Hulk and that whole thing. Making Ultron. Yeah, he’d fucked up a few times. Apparently walking away from you was one because there you were with his one of his best friends making out with you just like how he was supposed to.

Thor pulled away from your mouth to start kissing her neck. His hand went to one of her breasts. You looked up at him with this troublemaker eyes. “I told you to be a man, Bruce,” Thor said, in between nips on your skin. “So, I’m showing you how.”

He could feel his face getting hot. Like the big guy was threatening to come. He didn’t want you to see him like that, but as you stood up you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay. I have enough holes for the both of you.”

His jaw dropped, but he couldn’t respond as you’d already smashed your lips into his. Your mouths worked together. His hands stayed at his side as you pushed him back until he could sit on the couch.

You climbed on his lap. Straddling him as his hands went to your ass like it was an instinct. He could pretty much hear the Hulk actually giving him kudos for doing it.

“See how much better that is,” Thor said sitting next to the two of you as he started kissing your neck.

Bruce thought for a minute. He should be telling Thor to go away, but the fertility god was just trying to help him out. Maybe he could play and not really touch.

“Brucie,” you moaned as he started to trail down your neck with his lips.

“Been teasing me all night. Haven’t you?” He said, into your ear.

You nodded with a chuckle as you started to roll your hips against him. He moaned into your neck as he cupped the bottom of your ass. You gasped, “Daddy.”

His dick rubbed into you in the most delicious way. Fuck he felt so damn good. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor said, coming to sit the beside of you.

“Thor!” Bruce pulled away.

Thor rolled his eyes. “Stop making this weird.”

You laughed grabbing the man who’s lap you were currently on top of. “It’s okay,” you said in such a cute way, your body perking up.

He sighed before looking at Thor who started to kiss your neck again. You didn’t even give him a chance to think as you smashed your lips against his. It didn’t take long for that to become his focus.

One of them started to pull your shirt up making the other follow. You helped them as you pulled it from your body, lifting it over your head. They kissed the tops of your breasts as Thor reached behind to undo your bra. “Look at these beautiful fucking tits,” Thor said licking your nipple.

Banner went back up to your lips, grabbing your ass with so much more force. Suddenly Bruce stood up with you wrapped around his waist. Ended up dropping you so your back was against the couch. You squealed then laughed as he started kissing you again.

There was still enough room between the two of you to where Thor could fondle you and kiss your neck. Honestly you felt like a fucking goddess with the two of them worshipping you like that.

You started to undo Banner’s shirt needing so much more. He helped to undo the rest while you reached forward to unfasten his belt. He was quick to help so you could start to work off your own pants.

It all happened so quickly. Before he knew it the both of you were naked and you were ready for him to fuck you. “Please,” you whined.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“For you to fuck me.”

Just like that he slammed into you, not being able to wait anymore. Fuck it had felt so good. He’d been wanting to do this ever since you started coming around. All that pent-up sexual frustration.

The noises coming out of your mouth were perfect. He couldn’t believe he was finally inside of you. “Yes,” you moaned.

Thor had taken his dick from his pants as he watched the two of you. Bruce never thought he’d find himself here. Fucking you with his best friend stroking himself as he watched. It was probably hotter than any porn he’d ever watched.

“Harder,” you whimpered.

“Fuck her like a man, Banner,” Thor groaned. “Like the slut she is.”

“Yes,” you mewled.

Banner groaned before pulling out of you. “Turn over.” He demanded.

You did as you were told, flipping onto your stomach so your ass was in the air. He wasted no time in slamming into you making you yelp. “That’s good, Banner. Fuck her just like that.” Thor reached out to stroke your cheek. “You look so beautiful getting your cunt stuffed.”

You moaned looking up at the god with big doe eyes. The way you were biting your lip. Banner honestly felt intoxicated just from being inside of you. As he worked his hips back and forth while you worked back against him, he honestly felt like he’d died and went to heaven. Even Hulk was giving him props.

“That’s it,” Thor groaned as you finally put your mouth on his dick. As much as he was trying to resist it before, it was kind of hot to see you getting your face fucked by Thor as he fucked your pussy.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned taking your mouth off of Thor. Bruce rubbed your clit making trying to coax it out.

You tightened around him. He honestly felt like you were trying to milk his dick. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Cum for me, Baby. Be a good girl and cum for Daddy.”

His words made you explode because you were not prepared for him to say anything like that. Banner pulled out of you helping you flip back over onto your back. He once again wasted no time to enter your overly sensitive pussy.

You scratched his back and he noted that it was probably his favorite feeling. The way you raked your nails up and down. “Oh, Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned.

Thor got on his feet so he could get access to your mouth once again. You turned your head, ready to serve. “Thor!” Banner groaned.

“It’s okay,” you moaned. “I like it. And, look at how pretty it is.”

“See, Banner. It’s okay.” Thor moaned feeling your tongue back on him.

Besides it felt kind of good to be this desired. As a woman of science there was something so hot about Bruce Banner fucking the shit out of you while your mouth was full of dick from an alien god king. This was like your dream come true.

Though hesitant at first, Bruce was finding himself enjoying seeing your mouth be used by Thor at the same time as he fucked you. The way you licked it like he was your favorite popsicle before taking into your mouth. He could tell you were having a little trouble me multitasking since you kept pulling away from Thor to moan.

“Fuck, Daddy!” You whined having to pull away from the other dick once again. Your head was swimming because it was almost too much, but you were determined to please.

“Ah, ah, ah, Pet, I didn’t tell you to stop,” Thor scolded grabbing the puff of hair on top of your head so he could push back into your mouth. Even at the strange angle you were sucking his dick like a perfect little cocksucker.

It honestly looked so good. Seeing you moan as you tried to keep up. Bruce’s mouth was practically watering as he looked down at your spread-out legs and the way you attempted to take his best friend down your throat. He wasn’t sure if you could because Thor was as big as he looked like he’d be. Then again seeing you choke on him sounded kind of hot.

Slobber drooled down your chin. You were making such a mess, but it looked like that had been exactly what you’d set out to do. Bruce had only seen blowjobs that sloppy in porn. “That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. “Look at that. Doesn’t she look so pretty like this.”

“So pretty,” Bruce grunted as he fucked you getting more on your body now. He buried his head into your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You were slurping on Thor’s dick and fuck you were so wet. How was your pussy so damn wet. “Been teasing me all this time, huh. How long you been wanting this? Is that why you applied for the internship? So, you could take my dick?” He angled his hips in a way so that he could go deeper. His cock surrounded by your spongy walls.

As much as you’d fantasizes a long time about him, you never thought it’d be like this. Fuck were you pleasantly surprised.

“Answer me, Honey,” he said, looking back up at you.

Thor’s hand was still gripped in your hair and he forced you off of him long enough for you to speak. Except at that moment you finally reached your breaking point cumming around him. You felt yourself milk his dick and all he did was keep fucking you. “Yes!” You cried. “Fuck me, Daddy!” You begged.

“Such a good girl,” Thor cooed before shoving himself back inside your mouth.

You moaned around him. All that spittle on your face. Bruce wanted to kiss you so bad, but considering your mouth was a little preoccupied he hesitated. It did look good, though. He glanced up at Thor who was mostly watching you take him like a good girl.

He noticed Bruce’s eyes on him before looking down at him with this slight smirk, shrugging his shoulders. As a god and until recently a prince, he had no shortage of lovers. This meant from different beings to whomever. Men or women or anything else. So, with the way Bruce was looking at him, he wasn’t really shocked.

Bruce on the other hand had only been with a handful of women. As Thor’s thick cock was just right there in front of him with your lips sucking at it, he felt like he couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to lick what you hadn’t been able to fit into your mouth.

Thor hissed at feeling your mouth and his tongue now added. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.

You smiled around the dick in your mouth and pulled out with a giggle. “Daddy!” You squealed. Bruce blushed, pulling way. You leaned into him to connect your lips with his. He stopped moving and instead held you there. “It’s okay. I’m having so much fun.”

“Me, too,” he said, his face still red.

“Banner, it’s okay,” Thor said, rubbing the other man’s salt and pepper curly hair.

Bruce found it more comforting than he even expected before lifting away from you so he could lick it again, tasting the saltiness. You moaned underneath him connected your lips to his neck. “Don’t stop, Daddy,” you whispered in his ear before nibbling along his earlobe.

He ground himself, starting to move his hips again. This time fucking you with slower, deeper thrusts. This tingle that had already built up inside of you grew more intense. He was working your pussy so fucking good. Then seeing him do that you could feel a new orgasm building up inside of you.

“Help me, Baby,” Bruce said.

Thor smiled because he was happy to see the teamwork. Besides two mouths were definitely better than one. “That’s it.”

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum again,” your voice shook as you suddenly clung to him. This one was definitely going to be more intense.

You squealed out your moans opening your mouth before biting down on your lip only for your jaw to drop again. You lip quivered into a pout while your brows tensed up. He couldn’t help it has he mesmerized the little details. Noticing how your eyes got so desperate looking. And it was for him. For what he was doing to you. Of course, you’d clearly enjoyed what Thor had done to your mouth, but he was the one fucking you into two orgasms one right after the other.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for Daddy,” he grunted because he could feel himself ready to also cum inside that pretty pussy. “Want Daddy to cum all in this pussy?”

You nodded, but you were so sensitive at this point because your orgasm was intense. Bruce quickly followed behind unloading into you. Tremors ran through your body as your eyes closed.

When Bruce looked down to see he immediately got off of you. “Shit, Y/N,” he said, he rubbed your cheek. “Hey, hey,” he talked to you ever so softly.

Thor got down next to you. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you back tightly, kissing your temple. Bruce rubbed got down beside him, so he could rub your back. “I’m sorry. It was just a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bruce said. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” You laid back down as Thor kissed your forehead.

“Why don’t we go lay down?” Thor suggested.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

Thor carried you to one of the many bedrooms. Your legs wrapped around his waist; chin perched on his shoulder. Bruce trailed behind watching the glazed look in your eyes.

As Thor laid you down, he made sure the blankets were pulled over you before kissing the top of your head again. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you answered contently.

“Need anything?” Bruce asked. “Water? Pretty sure we’ve been through most of the snacks.”

“Can you lay down with me?” You asked looking between them with big eyes and a pout. Thor grinned before getting in beside you, Bruce quickly doing the same. You got snuggly between them. Thor against your backside and Bruce in front of you so you could wrap your arms around them.

You were enjoying the closeness of them. They would kiss you softly wherever they could reach and traced their fingertips on your skin. All the affection was making you feel like you’d settled into his haze.

Thor tickled your side and you giggled trying to get closer to Banner. “Daddy, tell him to stop.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed your nose. “Is Thor teasing you, Baby?”

“I’m the tease?” Thor gasped. “I’m the one who didn’t even get to cum and somehow I’m the tease?”

You laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be sorry,” he said, as he brought his hands further down over your butt, squeezing your flesh.

The jealousy Banner would have felt earlier was gone. Instead replaced with curiosity over what he could possibly do to her. The anticipation was making him hard all over again.

“Daddy!” You gasped; eyes wide as you looked into Bruce’s. “He’s touching me!” It sounded like you were trying to tattle and Bruce couldn’t help it as he laughed.

“Oh yeah? What’s he doing?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Thor had lifted your leg up so he could stuff his large fingers into your cunt from behind. “His fingers are in my pussy,” you replied with a moan.

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels really good,” you whimpered.

Bruce chuckled as he pulled you in so he could kiss your lips again. Thor kissed your shoulder as you started to leak all over his fingers. “That’s such a good girl. Why don’t you ask Daddy if I can fuck this pussy,” he whispered in your ear, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, Daddy, can I?” You asked.

“That’s not how you ask politely, Sweetheart,” Bruce scoffed.

You swallowed down a moan because fuck Thor was really working you over good. “Daddy, can Thor please fuck me?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. He felt like he was drunk off of you. For once even Hulk was at peace.

Thor grabbed you making you face him as he kissed you greedily. You climbed on top of him straddling his waist. He grabbed your hips to lift you up and then eased you back down onto his dick.

“Oh.” Was all you could say. Your face felt hot all of a sudden. It felt like you were almost too full from him.

Bruce smiled at the dazed look on your face. You looked so beautiful. “How does it feel?”

“He’s so big,” you whimpered.

“You wanted a God’s dick baby,” Thor said beginning to move you up and down his length. “You have to take it.”

“Is it too much?” Bruce asked taking his hardening member into his hand because watching the two of you was so perfect.

“I can take it,” you whimpered through gritted teeth because you weren’t entirely sure you were telling the truth.

“That’s such a good girl,” Thor groaned. Fuck your cunt was tight. If you weren’t having such a hard time now, he would have been slamming in and out of you. Your pussy felt so damn good.

Bruce’s watched intently as the other man fucked into you. He wasn’t sure what had come over him tonight, but he doesn’t think there’s any coming back from this. “Fuck, Thor,” he groaned, “your dick is too big for her.”

“Is it too big for you, Sweetheart?” Thor asked. “Too much?”

“I promise I can take it,” you cried because you felt like you were gonna be split in two.

“You better fucking take it,” Bruce said.

Thor finally started to pick up the pace. You threw your head back, biting your lips, eyes squeezed shut with your eyebrows furrowed.

You looked so gorgeous like this and even though you’d just made Bruce cum in that pretty pussy he wanted to do it again. Thor had this smirk on his face because there was something so funny about this little human woman struggling to take him.

Thor looked at Bruce as he’d glanced over him and Bruce wasn’t sure what came over him as he pressed his own kiss to Thor’s lips. Thor always needing to dominate kissed the other man deeply tongues fighting against each other.

You finally opened your eyes noticing the change in Thor’s movements as he tried to keep up with both at the same time. You started to move your hips faster because fuck they looked hot together and even though it felt like Thor was going to break you, you needed it.

“Fu- fuck!” You yelped as your orgasm came through. Thor smacked your ass and laughed against Bruce.

“See I told you her twenty-five-year-old pussy would feel good,” Thor couldn’t help himself from saying.

“Thor!” Bruce groaned.

You stopped moving, a laugh wrecking up through your body. “What?”

Your night pretty much went the same way. Getting used by both men until you were completely tapped out. You fell asleep nestled between them as they whispered sweet nothings to you and surprisingly each other.

Bruce couldn’t believe the smile that was on his face. Whatever aftermath happens after this he could deal with it. As long as you and Thor were there. Well mostly you since Thor would have to go back to New Asgard at some point.

—

“I don’t even know how she found out!” Tony complained to Happy for what was probably the millionth time.

The other man shrugged. “Maybe the kid let it slip?” He suggested as they finally came through the door. The both of them looked at each other as they saw the bowls of snacks around the floor and the only have drunken glass of wine.

And all the clothes.

“Who the fuck...” Tony gasped.

“I’ll do a sweep of the place,” Happy said already getting into protective mode.

Of course, Tony not being able to be patient wanted to see who the hell it was that had clearly had sex on his damn couch and didn’t even clean any of the evidence.

His jaw dropped seeing you in bed all safe and sound with Bruce. All of the irritation he felt was suddenly replaced with shock, but also relief because at least it was just Bruce. Besides he needed to get laid.

Thor came out of the bathroom at that moment, making Tony’s eyes widen as soon as he saw the god in all his naked glory. “Hi, Stark.” Thor greeted him with a grin as he went back over to the bed.

“I fucking called it!” Tony shouted, jolting the two of you awake.

You let out a scream before throwing a pillow to hit him in the face. Happy had covered his eyes because this was too much for him. “We’ll just wait outside,” he said, grabbing Tony’s shirt to yank him away.

“I knew it was a date!” He giddily yelled.

“Well, at least we don’t have to tell everyone because Tony is probably having Friday text everyone.” Thor shrugged, before scooping the both of you into his arms. Fuck, Tony. He was going back to sleep with his two small humans and then take them out for breakfast.

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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Prima Vista Part IX

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55.

He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair.

This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place.

Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you.

He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad.

“Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him.

He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

“Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine.

A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel.

"And, the other girl you saw is—"

"I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?"

"Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago.

Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown.

Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team?

He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology?

Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike.

Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you.

"If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him.

Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing.

With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows.

"Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you?

The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you.

The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

"This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake.

"Happy to be working with you."

It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it.

The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college.

And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all.

"Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic.

You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there.

"Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

"Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not.

"Thanks. Mobs made it."

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer.

You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you.

"Here."

He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable.

"I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that.

"Do you, though?" He asks.

"Do I what?"

"Look forward to working here."

"Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

"Very big."

"It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

"Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head.

He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table.

"Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you?

Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you.

He needs to fucking call Erwin.

"Hey, bro, what's up?"

"Dude," is all Mike says at first.

"What?"

"You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

"You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly.

"Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years.

"Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?"

"It—Wait, what did she say?"

"Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

"No name-calling or confessions of undying love?"

"No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts.

"Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

"Could have been better too."

"What? How—"

"Could have bent her over the desk and—"

"Dude!"

Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months.

"I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?"

"Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

"Yeah, yeah."

They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you.

You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice.

"Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!"

"Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

"Hitch—"

"Breathe!"

You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

"You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away.

"Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her.

"Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself.

"Agreed."

"Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?"

You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

"Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?"

You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

"Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

"Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up.

You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

"Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice.

You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him.

He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes.

"He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?"

"God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

"Why would you—"

"Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

"I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

"Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

"And, Maddie."

You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to.

"Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort.

"And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet.

Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome.

"I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

"Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

"I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

"Why?" You question with a head shake.

Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

"No, I—"

"I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

"I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums.

"Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

"Then, talk."

"Mm, pass."

A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?"

"Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe.

"Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles.

"Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns.

"You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you.

"Uh, yeah?"

Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

"Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl.

It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door.

Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet.

You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn.

"'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts.

You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea.

You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway.

While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead.

Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick).

And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out.

You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too.

It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

It is not a productive work environment.

Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out.

There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake.

"You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

"Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you.

"You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up.

"Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

"I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

"You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

"Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

"Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table.

You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

"I don't wanna talk!"

You really don't. But, you also really do.

Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week.

He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs.

It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.

Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting.

Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings.

Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural?

Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it.

"It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

"You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says.

"I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?"

"I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

"'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching.

"Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

"Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks.

Mike frowns. "Uh, no?"

"Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

"We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks.

"What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

"Well—"

"Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

"Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles.

"I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

"I'm hanging up now."

Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

"Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

"Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

"I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

"Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god.

"Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

"We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks.

"Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

"Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

"Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation.

Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

"Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

"I didn't say anything!" He laughs.

"You don't have to. I know."

Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away.

The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things.

He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now.

Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else.

"Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home.

Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything.

It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday.

"Where'd you even find those?"

You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

"So, you went… dumpster diving?"

Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos.

"Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?"

Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

"I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

"Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

"It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

"Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully.

Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

"I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows.

"You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him.

"Ew."

"Just spitball. Throw it at me."

"Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him.

"Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts.

You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels.

"So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago.

He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it.

"Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

"It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk.

You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college.

"Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's.

"What of it?"

"These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

"Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

"I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment.

"It was easier on the eyes," you explain.

"It was a frat boy car."

"You were a frat boy!"

"And, now I'm a professional."

"Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk.

"Most of the time."

The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive.

He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside.

This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

"Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

Then, you shake your head.

"No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I mean, if that works for you."

"Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

"God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe.

"I've always been an early riser."

"Not from what I remember."

Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time.

"Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too.

Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast.

Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections.

His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears.

He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

“Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I, honestly.”

Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago.

“You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

“What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be.

There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely.

Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

“So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

“Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

“Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

“Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy.

Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago.

It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave.

Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day.

You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

“So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

So much for letting the past stay there.

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

“I really think we do.”

“Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

“Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing.

“I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse.

“I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.”

The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild.

“Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair.

“If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

“Do you not feel the same way then?”

Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

“You were in love?”

“Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

“I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

“Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned.

“Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there.

This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back.

“Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

“Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans.

You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did.

“This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

“Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much.

You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you.

“Oh, fuck.”

You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point.

Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it.

Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue.

“A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open.

Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart.

“Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

“Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears.

It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

“Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?"

You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?"

"Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

"Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?"

Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp.

He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you.

Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you.

"Miche, please."

"You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight.

"Good enough to fuck me?"

"Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears.

It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name.

"You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out.

You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time.

Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything.

"I—I—I—..."

"You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you.

Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this.

And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike.

His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

"Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees.

He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it.

Another day.

Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb.

Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly.

His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much.

That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

"Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him.

Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again.

But, not yet. Not yet.

Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit.

He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand.

"Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down.

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss.

He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down.

"You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

"Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you.

"Jesus fucking—"

Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation.

He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen...

Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it.

As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth.

The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry.

The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him.

He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever.

You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you.

"God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with.

"Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses.

He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away.

"We were, weren't we?"

"Mhm."

Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him.

He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

"I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast.

"You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?"

He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands.

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face.

He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you.

Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

"Wasn't positive."

Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you.

He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip.

He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does.

Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them.

But first, he needs to call his mom.

It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field.

When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you.

"Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them.

"I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

"It's been going on for a long time now," you snort.

Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?"

"Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head.

You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind.

The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends.

You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again.

Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes.

"Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps.

"Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles.

"It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds.

You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin.

Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner.

"God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate).

"Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

"Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door.

The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume.

"I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them.

Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip.

Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.

A small pink box.

A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it.

"Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

"Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

"You are fucking impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up.

It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now.

"Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling.

"Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells.

"Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

"Yeah, good call, bro."

"I hate both of you."

"Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him.

And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

"Against my better judgement," you smirk.

He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you.

"Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others.

Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

"I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off.

"Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

"Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?"

Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

"Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles.

You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

Note

In relations to my last ask, how would you write Danny revealing his ghost identity to Sam and Tucker? Set somewhere in the month between Danny being vaporized by the ghost portal and the opening episode.

sorry for sitting on this one for a couple days, I didn't have the spoons to go into the answer I felt it deserved

I know there have been fics and aus about Sam and Tucker not being there during the accident, but it's been so long since I read one so I guess it's time for my take on it!

Danny would have been Freaking Out after it happened, like he sees his reflection and realises that something fuckin' weird absolutely just happened to him, he might not twig at first exactly what it was because he figures he could be hallucinating or his vision could have been fucked up by the light in the portal, it isn't anything serious right?

the power surge from the portal would have alerted his parents who come down into the lab and they go absolutely buck wild with joy that the portal finally worked!! and oh my god Danny you weren't standing too close to it right?

Danny's thinking 'why the fuck aren't they saying anything about the white hair and glowing eyes' but he glimpses back at his reflection and it's totally normal again, okay so maybe it was a hallucination okay that's good

his dad is pretty much doing a victory dance while his mum is scanning him for any contamination, she says his readings are abnormally high and they should keep an eye on him and run some decontamination procedures

boy goes back to his room feeling pretty shaken up, he probably calls Sam and Tucker immediately to tell them what happened, he might mention that he was seeing things after coming out of the portal but everything seemed to be fine now, he feels really cold tho

his parents pull him out of school for a few days to keep an eye on him but nothing especially unusual happens, he mentions to his parents that he feels cold all the time and they keep checking his temperature and ectoplasmic readings

it's an unpleasant few days, he has to scrub his skin almost raw in the shower and wash his hair three times in a row every night, as well as drink a fuckton of water and take a diuretic to flush out his system, they make him take some kinda medication they developed that's supposed to keep him from absorbing any more radiation than he already has, it makes him really sick but they keep making him take it

but in the end despite feeling incredibly unwell his readings DO go down and his temp DOES climb back up so the Fentons breath a sigh of relief and just tell Danny to make sure he tells them if he feels sick again or if anything unusual happens

what they DON'T realise, is the treatments worked to flush what was currently in his system and on his skin, but it didn't do anything for the fact that he was now producing his own ectoplasm, which very readily began to replenish itself after the initial purge

he goes back to school and tells his friends all about his terrible last few days, and suddenly Sam is looking at him in alarm and whispers 'dude your eyes are glowing'

Tucker looks over like 'what do you mean? they look fine'

'they were absolutely glowing! like just for a second they were-'

'bright green?' Danny asks, mildly panicking

he tells them exactly what he saw in the mirror when he came out of the portal, and they finally start wondering if maybe it wasn't a hallucination

they go hide in some empty classroom somewhere and discuss what should happen next, Tucker thinks Danny should tell his parents, Danny does not want to go through another few days of decontamination procedures, Sam sides with Danny, mostly because she's generally anti-parent in general but also because she thinks that the Fentons' methods sound dodgy as hell because of how sick the medication made him

'I mean have they even tested those meds properly? how do they know it won't make him worse?'

it's at this point that the school-bell rings and Danny falls through the desk he was leaning on

Sam and Tuck think he just slipped, Danny also thinks he just slipped, but Danny also noticed that he felt really weird and tingly for a moment there

in class his pen keeps slipping out of his hand, in science he drops two beakers and is barred from handling anything fragile for the rest of class, he finds himself feeling weirdly lightheaded and motion sick at random moments, his stomach flipping and his feet feeling almost like they aren't completely touching the floor

he doesn't know that it's his body very momentarily ignoring gravity, not enough to make him float completely but just enough to make him feel weirdly unanchored to the ground

Tucker is very much convinced that Danny should tell his parents about this, Sam thinks he should probably go to a hospital instead, Danny thinks telling his parents is probably a good idea, but he's highkey terrified of them making him take that medication again, they kept assuring him that it's harmless to humans and the sickness is just a reaction to the ectoplasm in his body, but he knew that each time they made him take it he felt more and more like whatever was in it shouldn't be in him

so in the end he decides that he'll wait to see if the side effects go away on their own, so far they don't seem to be hurting him, and he'll take being lightheaded and dropping stuff constantly over taking those meds and feeling like he's got pins sticking into every nerve in his body

(like it was Bad, kid's lowkey traumatised)

and then in class he falls right through his chair, nobody sees what happened, he was at his desk and now he's on the floor, everyone laughs it off but after school Danny drags his friends around behind the gym to tell them what happened

he is freaking out, totally panicking and that's when Sam and Tucker notice his appearance change, it's wonky at first, flashes of light keep sparking off him and his eyes are glowing on and off, his hair is flashing streaks of white and his clothes keep shifting into something black

Sam snaps him out of it with a slap, but instead of going back to normal his whole body flashes and suddenly he's in his ghost form

he is SUPER confused about why he's in his hazmat suit again and why the colours are all wrong and Sam and Tuck have to tell him 'uh dude, that hallucination definitely wasn't a hallucination'

then a football comes flying past and some jock chases it behind the gym and see them standing there and is like 'what are you two losers doing back here'

and Sam and Tuck are like 'two?' and they realise that Danny isn't there anymore, the jock grabs the ball and runs off again

then Danny reappears

cue all three of them freaking out

the fact that he's fighting ghosts without hesitation in the beginning of the first ep probably means it isn't the first time it's happened, he's probably down in the lab with his friends, showing them the portal and telling them exactly how his accident happened, when something comes flying out

it immediately attacks them and Danny probably goes instinctively into protective mode, he transforms and lobs a punch at one of the fuckers, and it hurts it, a lot, he grabs it and hauls it around, throwing it back into the portal

Sam and Tuck are just like 'holy shit dude you kicked ass' and Danny's just like 'uhhhh I dunno what happened guys but that felt really super cool'

he turns back to normal as his dad comes downstairs and gets all excited about the three kids being interested in the ghost portal, cue opening of the first episode

at this point Danny is pretty convinced he's going to tell his dad, but Jack doesn't give him a chance to say much before going off on his monologue

and then the portal opens up again and the ghost comes back, this time with friends, Danny barely thinks before he's throwing himself at the ghosts, kicking their asses and lobbing them back into the portal, he turns around completely expecting to have to explain himself and finds his dad SOMEHOW hadn't turned around even once during the whole fight and by a miracle didn't notice anything unusual

Danny loses his nerve and transforms back without telling his dad anything, and then we have the events of Mystery Meat where he's still struggling to control his powers and whether or not to tell his parents

soooo yeah that's my take ~ hope you enjoyed

#asks #danny phantom #lula's headcanons

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drwcn · 3 years

Text

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot.

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins”

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!”

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.”

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1]

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?"

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries.

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?”

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult.

Unless he’s on acid.

Well… okay, psych consult either way.

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.”

“....Thank you.”

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed.

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.”

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.”

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue.

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.”

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.”

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her?

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical.

I must be the one losing, damnit.

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me."

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession.

"She would forgive you."

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but...

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope - but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace.

[4]

— Did you love her?

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough.

— Do you love her still?

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do.

...

— Are you ashamed of it?

...

— No. No I’m not.

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team.

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again.

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then.

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had.

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance.

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!”

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng!

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties.

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -”

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.”

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly.

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.”

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.”

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding.

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen...

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.”

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.”

“I didn’t fracture -”

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.”

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair.

Shen Liang’s smile widened.

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!”

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam.

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat.

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.”

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.”

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...”

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.”

The boys agreed.

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed.

#cql #the untamed #chengqing #wen qing #jiang cheng #a midnight conversation in your local er #cql ficlet #corie fics

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mosswillow · 3 years

Text

Iced Coffee 2 - Dark!Stephen Strange x reader

Series Warnings:

NEW WARNING! Somnophilia

18+ adult content, Dark, Rape/noncon, obsessive behavior, stalking, doctor/medical themes, needles (chapter one, not sex related), violence, abuse, kidnapping, forced marriage, smut, escape attempt, Somnophilia

Potential warnings, a non-exhaustive list: Oral, praise kink, mild degradation (Will not include whore or slut)

You can join the tag list here.

Thank you to the unnamed requester and @couldntbedamned for this request. 🖤

By Clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over 18 and understand that this content is mature and potentially triggering.

Light from the window slowly crept up towards you as the sun rose. When it finally reached your eyes you turned and groaned, your body still throbbing all over. You managed to make it to your desk and grab your phone. Shit, Coworkers were going to start arriving soon and they couldn’t see you like this, couldn’t know what you had done. You let out a sob as you pushed your body to it’s limit, walking out of the lab and to the elevator. It took everything in you not to trip, ramming your shoulder into the door as you walked through the entrance of the hospital. People were looking at you with concern but you ignored them and kept walking.

You weaved between vehicles, using them to balance yourself as you slowly made strides to your car. Ten more feet and you would be there, you could do it.

“Hey, are you ok,” Stephen stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

“I’m fine, just trying to get home,” you replied. You took a shaky step and stumbled, slamming your side against a minivan. Stephen grabbed your arm and helped you up, his hand remaining even after you were upright, holding you in a tight grasp.

“Woah, I’ll give you a ride.”

“No,” you whimpered as you tried in vain to pull yourself out of his grasp. You weren’t sure he could even tell you were trying to pull away, you were so weak.

“You’re in no position to drive yourself anywhere,” he wrapped his arm around your middle and held you up. You looked at him and inhaled, his concern and determination was evident throughout his entire body. His face was scrunched into almost a scowl and his muscles were tense. He held his breath, obviously ready to argue. He wasn’t going to give up.

“I’ll call a car,” you said, raising your phone up. Your fingers were so shaky that the phone slipped immediately from your hand and to the concrete, making a loud sound that made you both flinch. He leaned over and picked your phone up, holding it away from you.

“It’s just a ride home, please” He urged.

You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. It pained you to let him help but there weren’t many other options. You weren’t going to make it home yourself, you weren't even sure you could keep yourself up without his help.

“Fine, just a ride home,” you agreed.

His body relaxed slightly as he helped you to his car. He opened the door for you and buckled you in. As soon as the door closed you leaned against it and closed your eyes trying not to cry. You were almost home, you just needed to make it a little longer. You were already feeling better than the evening prior and were sure if you just slept for a while longer the side effects would wear off.

Stephen stole quick looks at her as she slept in his passenger seat. His cock twitched and he shifted, uncomfortable with how turned on he was. He wanted her so badly, it’s the only thing he could think about. Her under him, face scrunched up in focus as he fucked her. Her body moving with him, reacting to him.

He wanted to show her how he had changed, wanted to prove something to her and if he was honest with himself he wanted to win. He wanted to be better than her, shift the power she had taken back to himself. He had never been turned away like that and it made him feel hurt and angry. He deserved her love, deserved everyone's love.

He decided then that she was his responsibility. No matter what happened in her life, whether she decided to be with him or someone else, he would take care of her. He owed it to her after what he did all those years ago.

He set his jaw and focused on the road, trying not to think about his intense desire to pull over and fuck her. She was so weak and helpless, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of that addictive feeling, the feeling of power and control, of being the best.

Stephen didn’t want her because she was weak and helpless though, in fact her physical weakness was the only thing he didn’t like about her. He had always been attracted to power and his attraction to her was no different. He wanted an equal, someone just as brilliant and strong as he was.

It was about the vulnerability for him. She was so strong - so independent and focused. For her to give into him, to argue with her and win, was like nothing he had ever felt. Her helpless body sitting next to him was only attractive because it meant that he won.

She let out a small whimper and he put his hand on her knee, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok love, I’ll take care of you,” He whispered, knowing she was too out of it to understand his words.

He didn’t know how to get to her house but even if he did there was no way he would let her out of his sight like this. His girl was so sick, she needed him. If he wasn’t so respectful, so thoughtful of what she wanted he would take her to the emergency room. He knew though that she would be angry, that taking her would push her away from him, possibly forever. He couldn’t lose her, refused to jeopardize the seed of a relationship he was planting.

He parked at his home and carried her to his guest bed, covering her with blankets and setting water next to her bed. His cock throbbed and he brought his hand down and unbuttoned his pants, stroking himself as he watched her sleep. God, she was beautiful, perfect. He imagined pushing her over his desk at work and having his way with her. She stirred and he reluctantly tucked his cock away and left her to sleep, retreating to his shower where he wouldn’t risk waking her with his groans.

When you finally awoke the cold you had felt before was gone, replaced with a different sensation. Everything you touched felt different, it was weird and curious, like another sense you hadn't possessed before. It took several moments to remember what had happened, how Stephen had found you in the parking lot and gave you a ride. He must have taken you to his house instead of yours you concluded.

You stood and walked to the bathroom, feeling much better, almost back to normal. A set of clean clothes were laid out for you along with a toiletry kit. You turned the shower on and looked at your face. You looked just like you did before you had injected yourself with the medicine, not that you expected a change of appearance. The important part is what it did to you on a cellular level. You looked at the injection site, which had blue vein-like lines extending in a circle around it. You touched it gently and felt a sharp sting. A list of multiple tests started forming in your head. You needed to do them before your lab was shut down, see what it had done to your body. The pain you had gone though would be worth it if it worked. Even if it didn’t work at least you would know.

After your shower you grabbed your phone and called a car to take you back to the hospital. The door creaked as you opened it and you held your breath, tip toeing through Stephens home.

It was exactly what you expected, pristine, immaculate, almost sterile in it’s cleanliness. Your soft footsteps felt loud against the tile floors that covered the entire house and you slowed your walking even more. You could hear him cooking in the kitchen and held your breath when you finally reached the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going,” shouted a sharp voice.

You stopped and turned to see Stephen standing in the breakfast room with a spatula. He held it like a scepter, moving it around as he spoke.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of here before looking you over.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I’m a grown woman and doctor,” you tried again.

“So you know that doctors are the worst at taking care of their health then, good, come sit over here,” He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table.

You looked at the GPS on your phone, which showed the little car getting closer to the pick up location.

“Cancel it, I’ll drive you after we’re done,” He called from the kitchen.

You hesitated at the door before canceling the ride. You didn’t want to be rude, he had taken you home and let you sleep in his guest bed after all. The least you could do was eat a small breakfast, let him check your temperature and look in your ears.

You sat at the table and he brought you a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast before leaving and coming back with a small black tote. You took a few bites while he dove into his bag and pulled out several instruments.

“Your temperature is very low,” He mused, writing it down in a little notebook.

“I run low,” you lied.

“I’d like to run some tests,” he muttered, jotting down a list in his notebook.

“No,” you said quickly “ I’ll have them done but not by you,” you added when his eyes narrowed.

He sat back in his chair and clenched his jaw.

“Is there information you’re not telling me?”

You shook your head and unconsciously grabbed your arm. He pulled your jacket down suddenly and examined you.

“What is this?” He asked.

You panicked, your heart rate starting to rise. “A bug bite,” you stammered.

He gave a short nod, his expression the embodiment of distrust, and grabbed your face. He looked at your eyes, ears, and throat, his hand remaining on your cheek after he finished, thumb rubbing back and forth so subtly that you barely noticed.

“You look ok but I’m worried about your arm, promise me you’ll get it looked at immediately,” his voice deepened into a low, commanding tone.

“I promise,” you whispered.

Instead of letting go of your face he leaned closer to you.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” He said, breath hot against your cheek.

He gave you a soft kiss where his breath was seconds earlier and pulled away.

“Eat up,” he motioned to your plate.

You picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.

“Thank you... for your help,” you mumbled awkwardly.

Stephen looked at you and gave a half smile.

“It’s the least I could do.”

-o-

Series Master list 🖤 Previous Chapter 🖤 Next Chapter

#dark!stephen strange #dark!stephen strange x reader #dark!doctor strange #dark!mcu #Dark fics #Dark doctor strange #dark stephen strange

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oneshotnewbie · 3 years

Note

We need to know what happens with B!D and Alex after coughing blood 😱

A/N: Your wish is my command! :) ♥ --- When you got to the emergency room, you were separated from your sister. While she was talking to the doctor about what had happened, you were immediately placed in one of the treatment rooms and wired to the monitor by a nurse. A vein access was also placed and blood was taken from you without a holding hand by Alex or Kara to your suffering.

The monitor next to you beeped incessantly and the kidney bowl filled with blood with every choke and displaced breath. The doctor must also have heard it from the outside so that he and Alex stormed in and looked questioningly at the screen. "Her saturation is at 80%, the body's gas exchange is bad for her age and shouldn't be less than 95%."

He walked around you and with the help of the redheads he sat you up. While she held you up, he put a stethoscope on your back and listened to your lungs as you tried to breathe in as deeply as you could. The air was getting thinner for you. "Rattling noises and not fully exposed lungs. Your sister's body can no longer fully absorb oxygen and release carbon dioxide."

"And what now?" she asked panicked and kept turning to the door, hoping the blonde would come in and help her. For her too it was more than shocking to see you like that.

"Massive bleeding can make breathing so difficult that it can be fatal." he took a deep breath and was about to continue when Alex interrupted him. "Deadly?"

"Yes. The risks arises from the fact that blood runs into other sections of the lungs that are not affected by the bleeding and breathing can be impaired, which, if not acted quickly, can lead to death by suffocation."

A moment when everyone felt as if the hospital had been emptied. You couldn't hear anything anymore, no people romping about in the hallways, no sirens, nothing. Just the beeping. "Does she have any pre-existing conditions that should be known about? Allergies?"

"No previous illnesses, until last night she was a perfectly fit and healthy girl. Pollen allergy, hay fever. Those are the only allergies she has." Alex was desperate. Even if she knew they were routine questions, she just wanted him to stop asking and finally help you.

"No cardiovasbular diseases or lung cancer from the sides of her mother or father?"

"No, no. Nothing."

He turned away from Alex while he turned to the nurse and spoke to her. "Attach four liters of oxygen to her and watch her for changes. Someone from the radiology will be here in a moment and take her up for a contrast-enhanced computed tomography where we may see more. On the other hand, we sent her blood to the laboratory to see if there are any indications of a pathogen or inflammation."

"Thank you, doctor."

He disappeared with a nod and left you alone with your sister. His word made you panic. You began to tremble uncontrollably and tears ran down your cheeks but Alex was not yet aware of that.

She stood in front of your bed, her hands on the bed frame while she looked down at the floor and took a few deep breaths. She also had to pull herself together after said words and now shot any fear towards you. She knew that she had to be the strong one now to offer you hope and security.

Only after hearing the ventilator roll across the fake tile floor did she look up and see you. Completely finished with your nerves and with the strenght at the end you layed there and looked at her with tired and tearful eyes.

Immediately she grabbed a chair and sat down next to you. She was too scared to crawl on your bed and lie down next to you to hug you so she took your hand in hers and laid her head on your chest. "Hey baby, calm down. Everything will be alright!"

Your heart was racing and your breaths became even more uncontrolled than in the situation anyway. All the blood loss and exertion made you dizzy itself so when it came to having a panic right now, you would lose the battle and get unconcious.

So with all the strength left, you tried to keep track of your eldest sisters breathing and the circles that she was drawing on your hand. But where was Kara?

"Kara."

"She will be there as soon as you are back from the CT, I promise." she spoke softly and listened to your heartbeat. Despite the oxygen, your breathing became shallowed and the concern for you grew with every single second.

---

During your CT, Kara had arrived at the hospital and joined her morbidly panicked older sister who was waiting for news in the waiting room. She knew roughly how long such a CT scan would take and so she didn't understand why you still weren't brought back.

It was only after a while that your attending doctor came to your sisters and took them to the treatment room where you were lying before. "So, your sisters blood values are in the normal ranged based on the inflammation. However, the D-dimers and other values that indicate a pulmonary embolism were increased. We also discovered these during the CT with the contrast agent."

"Whats happening now?" Kara said in a whisper and put on an arm around Alex who, visibly shocked, didn't know what to say.

"She was immediately sent to the cath lab where the doctors use a catheter to loosen and remove this clot. Of course under general anesthesia so nothing can go wrong or further bleeding can't occur if she moves."

After talking to the doctor, they were sent to the ward where they excitedly were waiting for you to arrive again. While Alex tried process everything, Kara tried to calm her down and get her to sit down since she was awake for almost 36 hours now. But the older one was stuborn and refused to sleep. She knew that she could only close her eyes when your were besides her again.

---

After you got upstairs in the room, you were still very fuzzy from the rest of the anesthetics and the painkiller that you were given preventively so that you weren't quite awake even tho you realised everything.

As you looked through the room with half open eyes, you saw Alex now soundly asleep in the chair next to you, but still holding your hand tightly in hers to feel if something was wrong while Kara was sitting at the table in front of your bed, eating some chips from the vending machine and typing on her laptop.

"You're beautiful." you slurred out and Kara frightened before she realized who was talking.

"You are finally awake!" She whispered smiling and sat down on the free space at your feet. "You scared the shit out of us, you know that? You even knocked Alex off her feet!" she pointed to the redhead next to you and laughed.

"How can something like you be so pretty?"

"I beg your pardon?" she questioned while realizing that it was not you who were talking but all the drugs in your system.

"You are an alien and probably already tens of thousands of years old. How can you have such smooth skin and such soft hair?" you asked still cloudy in your head, not pretty sure what you were talking even though the words came spilling out of your mouth and you simply couldn't control it.

"Well, aliens don't always look like they do in movies." the blonde giggled and watched you looking at her with almost closed eyes as if you were scanning her from top to bottom.

"Aliens are green and ugly. You are very different, you are human."

"I am not Y/N, and you know that. Probably not now but you know. How many times have you flown with me?" Kara asked and watched you how you struggled for an answer.

"You lowered down on a huge rope and got carried around by and airplane. I see through your magic tricks."

Even if it wasn't appropriate to film this status of you, she did it anyway to show you what came out of your mouth during your medical drug trip. The blonde laughed out loud and covered her mouth so as not to wake Alex. She watched you slowly return to sleep and follow your oldest sister into the dream world.

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Note

The love I have for him in sweatpants is unexplainable, he looks so cozy, like a college student walking to class on a Monday morning type shit. Ugh lord just take me know because I can’t

That’s biology student!Harry running late for an early lab so he threw on whatever he found first— a random t-shirt and a pair of tie-dye sweats that had been on his beanbag chair for a month now— and had rushed out of his apartment in a panicked frenzy (Dr. Dickensberg— or as students refer to him behind his back, Dickberg— had told him that if he was late again, he wouldn’t let him in or allow him to redo the lab, which Harry thinks is ridiculous because he’d only ever been late one other time and it was because there had been an on-campus car wreck blocking the parking lot of the science building). He’s finger-combing his hair as he slings his backpack over one shoulder, quickly jogging down the cement stairs with only one of his tennis shoes on and the other tucked under his arm, half a piece of gum cracking and popping in his mouth. He found in the pocket of his pants and it gives him something to do with his teeth, rather than grind them in anger.

He has hopes that maybe his lab partner— Y/N— had better luck than him this morning, because then if he’s late, at least he can get any important notes from her. That dream is crushed when he steps out of the complex and spots her scurrying out of the one beside him, looking in just as bad a shape as he is. It’s pretty obvious, seen in the way she’s wearing oversized olive green sweats and mix-matched socks, how her hair is in a half-assed ponytail (it’s required to have your hair back during labs, lest you lose 10 points right off the bat), and she looks utterly mortified as she sprints across the damp ground towards her car, lugging her bag along while she juggles a few extra books in her arms.

Harry nearly has a conniption right then and there.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He speed-walks over to his car— which is coincidentally parked beside hers— and she’s so unhinged as she tries to find her keys that she nearly screams when his vehicle beeps.

When her eyes land on Harry, she looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm, as well. “Oh my God, I thought you’d—”

“Be on campus by now?” He finishes, yanking his door open and chucking his belongings into his back seat. He shoves the key in the ignition, sighing sharply as the car purrs to life and the heating immediately kicks in. He’s going to have to wait a bit while the engine warms up, so he proceeds to start working on putting on his other sneaker as he glances at her over the hood of his car. “In an ideal world, I would be.”

“Fuck, I was hoping I could—”

“Get the notes from me if Dickberg doesn’t let you in?” Harry finishes for her yet again, a mildly amused scoff puffing from his chapped lips as he ties off a double knot on his laces. “Great minds think alike, it seems.”

“Irresponsible minds, more like it.” Y/N releases a surrendered groan, and for a second, she entertains the idea of walking onto the road and begging her lab partner to run her over, just for the sake of sparing her all of the misery this mishap is going to bring. “Christ, we’re fucked. Absolutely fucked.”

Harry nods solemnly, straightening out his back and rolling out his tense shoulders. He’d slept funky last night, which had resulted in him not getting any real rest for the majority of the last eight hours or so, which is what had then caused him to sleep through his alarm this morning. He thinks he should probably start taking some melatonin gummies like Niall had suggested, or maybe he should try that weird tea concoction he’d seen on TikTok the other day. He’s willing to give anything a shot, at this point. Even a club to the head. Bonus points if it sends him into a coma.

He tucks a few rouge curls away from his tired eyes, tapping his lanky fingers across his dashboard as he waits with hardly any patience. “He said today’s lesson would be on the exam.”

“Oh, thanks for the emotional support!” The girl snaps at him sarcastically, rolling her eyes up towards the dusky sky. “Knowing that will do wonders for my sanity.”

The brunette lets out a soft snort, contemplating his acquaintance for a second. She looks nice in green, he notices. And especially with her Hello Kitty and Spiderman socks, and her hair falling across her cheeks in silky wisps, and how loose her outfit fits her to the point where it seems like she’s being swallowed in cloth. Pretty cute.

Harry suddenly juts his chin towards her, tilting his head down symbolically to signal his car. “I’ll give you a ride, yeah? We’re headed to the same place anyway, and if we walk in together, maybe he won’t chew us out as bad.”

Y/N indulges a long sigh, the action stemming from both relief (she’s much too sleepy to drive right now, in all honesty) and exhaustion (mental more than anything). She shifts her books onto one of her hips and reaches for the handle of Harry’s passenger’s seat, the corners of her lips twitching with gratitude. “Thanks, Harry. Guess we’re going with the classic partner in crime technique, huh?”

The young man ducks down into his car, pulling his door shut as he turns on the wipers in order to get rid of the dew covering his windshield. “You know what they say: ‘Spreading the blame is easier than shouldering it on your own.’”

Y/N slumps down into the cushions of her spot, closing her door lightly and allowing herself to bask in the notes of Harry’s delicate yet manly aroma. He always smells like ocean salt, French vanilla, and lavender fabric softener, and though all those scents lie on very different points of the spectrum, it strangely works. It’s cozy and comforting, especially now, when they’re both headed to their public executions. “Valid point.”

Harry sets his car into reverse, throwing Y/N a playful smirk over his shoulder as he reaches for the screen on his console to pick out some music for the drive. “Scientifically proven, actually.”

“Maybe if you agree to write a paper on it, Dickberg will let us off the hook.”

“As long as you co-write, I’ll consider it.”

#drabble

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crybabyalexxx · 3 years

Note

hihihi! could i possibly request a peter parker x stark!reader where the reader and their dad arent close? possibly themed around the song motion sickness by phoebe bridgers? thank u in advance!

Motion Sickness

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: The reader finally opens up to Peter about the relationship she had with her father and what his death meant to her. Inspired by Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: Character death, Morgan being adorable, slight mentions of trauma (SLIGHT) and so much sadness

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, I absolutely love this song and can relate to it. Tony Stark was like a father figure to me so thanks for the tears while I wrote this lol. I hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this! I should also try and write something that isn't so sad next.

Word Count: 2.1k

You hated him for what he did. You hated everyone for making him feel like it had to be him. You couldn’t understand why he did it. Why did he have to snap his fingers? Why did it have to be him?

“Hey kid, how are you feeling?” Happy sat next to you, it felt as if maybe he needed a hug more than you did. You gave Happy your best smile and shrugged, “I’m okay Happy, just needed some fresh air. It's so sad in there, it could use some music. He might have liked that.”

Happy chuckled, but he knew exactly what you were doing. You aren’t the first or only Stark he had to deal with. “Yeah, he might have liked that.” You and Happy sat in silence, comfortably. You were so used to faking a smile, even at your father's funeral, it felt natural. You were fine with that. After the attack in New York, Tony became distant from you. Always working on his suits, partying instead of going to your science fair. You couldn't blame him, but a part of you hated him for it. And now he's gone. He's gone and you're here with a new sister you only met a few days ago.

“Dad, please. I don't need to see a shrink. I'm fine, really.”

“It's a therapist and I think it'd be good for you.” Not many people knew this about Tony, but he would see his therapist twice a week. He hadn't realized how much you were affected by the attack on New York until Pepper pointed it out to him. Although you were only a kid when it happened, he knew the both of you would never be the same. And instead of going through it together, Tony dealt with it in his own way. Which meant you were alone to deal with it in your own way as well. You only went once, and Tony let it slide. Sometimes you thought that your dad would rather be back in that wormhole than be open with his own daughter. Whether that wormhole be the one in the sky or the one in his mind, I'll let you decide.

“What are you doing out here?” You and Peter were inseparable once your dad introduced you two. He couldn't hide his excitement every time you and Peter interacted. His daughter and his prodigy. In fact, he gave you the old ‘If you do anything to my daughter’ talk instead of giving it to Peter. He said you'd corrupt him and you did but that's a story for another time.

“Just thinking.” You couldn't stand to be out in the world anymore, not with all the constant reminders of him. It made you emotionally sick. It was easier to be numb than to feel.

“Is that why you've been ignoring my texts and calls?” If you were being honest with yourself, you'd say that yes you were avoiding Peter. For reasons, you didn't want to admit it out loud or to yourself. You loved Peter, he was sweet and silly. He was everything you weren't. He was even closer to your father than you ever were. You can see why your dad took a liking to him. He was nothing like a Stark.

You sat just outside your window on the fire escape. Peter was only wearing his Spidey mask. “What's with the mask?”

“Didn't want people seeing me swing around the city as Peter Parker.” Peter takes off his mask with ease while you look for any reason to run inside and avoid him a little longer. “So why are you avoiding me?” No more hiding.

You sigh and figure, you can't keep running from him. He doesn’t deserve that. “You're not the only one I'm avoiding Peter.”

Peter takes a seat next to you and waits. He doesn't say a word, just sits next to you and waits until you're ready.

“It's like everywhere I go, I see his face. A constant reminder of who he was to the world. And what he was to the world is so much different from what he was to me. A hero who made the ultimate sacrifice, a father who was never around. I don't know whether to be thankful or to hate him for it. He left before we could ever get close. And we blipped for five years, and I came back with a sister who knows him better than I do. She's always asking me how dad was like before her, but I don’t know Peter! And it's so frustrating! Not knowing who my father was and then coming back to find out that he read her bedtime stories and played hide and seek with her. When I won my science fair he was miles away at some party. I thought once maybe when I'm older we can finally both heal from what happened in New York and get to know each other. Then you came along, and I realized that I could never have what you two had with each other.” You hadn't realized the tears coming from Peter until you finally looked up at him. “Why are you crying? I'm supposed to be crying. Not you peter.”

Peter smiled softly at you and wiped away a few tears that were rolling down your cheeks. “You are y/n.” It was like a dam broke and you could no longer stop it. “I just really miss him, Peter.” You leaned into Peter and finally cried. “I miss him too.”

“I didn't know you and Mr. Stark weren't close. He always talked about you and how proud of you he was. It made me a little jealous, wishing I had a dad that was as great as him. He was a father figure to me, you know?.” Peter can recall many long nights where he and Tony only ever talked about you. He could also see how sad Tony was when he talked about you. Peter now just realized why that was. He missed you, except you were alive and well. Peter could only imagine how he felt for those five years you were gone.

“Really? Whenever we were together all he ever talked about was you. He said you were the only thing he never second-guessed. To be honest it made me a little jealous of you.” You and Peter chuckle at the idea of being jealous of each other.

“Peter, I’m horrible at this whole opening up stuff. But I don't want to leave this world someday and have the people I love second guess whether or not I loved them.” Peter nodded, understanding what you were trying to tell him. “I'll help you y/n, I always will. Just please don't drown me out or push me away. I need you too. I can't lose you too y/n.”

After you and Peter talked you decided that the following day you would go see Pepper and Morgan. You didn't even get a word out and Pepper was already hugging you and saying how much she missed you. And that she knew why you were there. So she let you go downstairs to Tony's lab. You looked around and really just imagined him running around finding some breakthrough for a project he was working on. Then you bumped into one of his tables and knocked a few things over.

“Shit.”

“Shit!.”

You turned around and found Morgan smiling at you from the stairs.

“Morgan! Only mommy can say that word, she claimed it.”

“What are you doing down here?”

“Knocking over some shit apparently.” You and Morgan giggle and head upstairs. You stay for dinner and Pepper tells you how much she and Morgan miss you.

You tell Pepper about how you've been feeling about Tony and his death. You tell her how angry you were that he felt like he had to do this. And how guilty you felt for not trying hard enough to open up to him. The image of your dad on his back while he slowly died made you sick. Emotionally sick. You explain to her what it felt like to turn into dust and to feel Tony hold on to you with all his strength, just to wake up in this battle and watch him snap his fingers. You were thankful you made it out and sorry that it all went down like it did.

She offered to stay with them for a while. Maybe you and Morgan can get to know each other a little more. You consider her offer, it scared you to be a part of their lives now. You don't understand why. But before you could give her an answer you two saw Happy driving up the driveway.

“Hey Kiddo, I talked to Peter earlier and he told me to come see you,” Peter told Happy about the conversation you two had. Peter didn't know if he could be much help and was worried about you. So he called Happy and asked if he could help, and Happy knew exactly what to do.

“How'd you know I'd be here?” You'd see Happy every once in a while. He'd come to your apartment to make sure you were alright. He was the only person you couldn't avoid, even if you tried. He's trained in working with Starks.

“Pepper called me and told me you were here. I got something to show you.” You and Happy walk to the living room and set down a device. “Your dad told me to show you this when I thought you were ready.” You looked at Happy confused, then a hologram of your dad appeared. Morgan came running to sit next to you and held your hand.

You panicked and couldn't even imagine what your dad wanted to say. Then it's like every good memory you had of him left your brain. And everything you wanted to say to him occupied your mind. Why must you try and save everyone? Why did you leave? Why couldn't you talk to me?

And now it's too late to change anything. And you can't ignore the things that remind you of him anymore, even if you try. You can't drown him out anymore.

“Y/n, I told Happy to give this to you when you needed it. So I guess now you need it.” Tony sits down on his hologram chair and looks directly at you as if he knew where you'd sit. “Before I had you, I was partying and sleeping with women I thought were interesting enough. I thought I had it all. All the money, all the fame. But I realized that I only did those things to drown out how lonely I was. Even the loudest parties seemed so quiet. Then when I met you, it was as if I were in the band. Everything came to life. I know after New York it was like I left. And I can't forgive myself for leaving you the way I did. I also don't expect you to forgive me. But know that I love you. I always will. I love you both 3000.”

You told Peter everything that happened a few days later. And how you agreed to stay with Pepper for a while and make sure Morgan never knows what it feels like to be drowned out.

“I miss him, Peter. I wish I could just tell him that. We weren't close but god, I miss him.” You wondered if maybe you were making the wrong choice, staying with pepper. Maybe not feeling at all would be easier.

“Please don't second guess your decision. This will be good for you I promise. I'll see you every day if you need me to. Just please don't shut us out again.”

“I just wonder if forgetting him is easier than all of this right now.”

“You aren't just shutting him out though, you're shutting us out, me. Please don't leave me.

It was then that you realized what your father must have felt like when he came back from that battle in new york. You were so angry at him shutting you out that you hadn't realized that you were starting to do the same thing to everyone else.

“Okay Peter, okay. I won't surrender to the sound.”

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tsuumu · 4 years

Note

hii! i really like your blog so far, you’re writing is really good! this idea just popped up in my head so idk if it’ll actually make sense but i’ll try lmao. so could you write some headcanons of sugawara, tendou, and kuroo w/ a shy s/o who gets jealous of some girls that come up to them, and she tries to tell them that shes jealous, and how they would react to that? thank you so much, and i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lmaoo :)

kuroo, tendou and sugawara with a jealous s/o.

good evening anon! this req is written in a school setting with various s/o personalities. i really hope you like it. <3

(the kuroo section is CONSIDERABLY longer than the other two and i apologise for that!! D: )

• nekoma’s volleyball team had become quite popular after the nationals tournament, where they had fought tirelessly and with extreme talent for everybody to see. people knew of the members and especially of their handsome captain. kuroo was prideful of his position and liked to flaunt his team’s successes to those who were interested, unknowing that they were probably more interested in him.

• he’s been talked about a lot lately. your friends always want updates on your ‘volleyball prince’, to which you promptly swat them away. he’s not a famous person. he’s just a high-school boy. a really cute, out-going, intelligent high-school boy.

• kuroo spends his free time in classes with girls on, around and at his desk, happily answering all the questions they gave him.

• unfortunately, you’re not so pleased. since tetsu had chemistry exam prep, his class has moved just a few doors down from yours. usually you wouldn’t get to see him during class because the lab work was done on the other side of the school, however he cheerily mentioned the change to you this morning whilst you were walking together.

• it happens as you’re on your way to your next room, stopping abruptly at the thought of the walk and peering in to see what was going on. after a short few seconds of scanning, you catch sight your boyfriend’s signature, dark hair. he’s chattering away to his female classmates.

• you really can’t help but feel a slight pang in your chest.

• you’ve never been overly protective or possessive of kuroo, at least, there had never been circumstances that lead you to feeling that way. you just stand there momentarily, staring at the varying expressions of the girls. tetsu is so oblivious. they’re totally hitting on him. you can’t help but sigh out. yes. he’s the talk of the town right now but wouldn’t you stop to ask him if he’s even single? you’re not angry, just a little bitter that you couldn’t sit with him like that and let them know of your existence.

• one of the girls closest to kuroo punches his arm lightly and you focus your attention back on them. you can’t figure out what on earth the actual conversation is about but she keeps placing her hands on his arms when she’s laughing or speaking enthusiastically.

• you’re not a fan of that at all, it makes the jab at your ribs heavier. you decide, ‘fuck it’ and push on the door to open it. it’s entirely on impulse and the nervousness sets in when the classroom quitens and -give or take- twenty eyes are set onto you.

• the second kuroo turns his head, he stands up at once, that shit-eating grin you know and love dearly plastered all over this face. it’s like the conversation with anybody else ended the second he saw you.

“woah. i didn’t know the next teacher was gonna be the love of my life! no, but seriously, what have you done to him, babe?”

you push on his chest lightly and tell him to quit it, cheeks burning at how loud he is, before embracing him tightly and wrapping your arms around him. you feel much safer.

• yaku chucks a piece of balled paper at you two from another area of the classroom.

“hey, you two. i know we signed up for chemistry but not your chemistry!”

• kuroo just throws it back, before kissing you on the forehead. you mumble into the fabric of his button-up that you’re just on your way to your next lesson and you’ll probably be late now. you just wanted to see him and tell those girls you’re uninterested. he chuckles out, moving back slightly to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“well i’m glad you did. this was the best surprise ever.”

• he leans closer, pressing his lips to your ear in a coy whisper.

“what girls? there’s girls? i thought they only made one in this entire world just for me. if it’s not another you, i’ll pass.” the corners of your mouth tug into a smile, burying your nose more into him.

“hey, kitty. as much as i’d like to keep you in here forever, like a cat that very obviously has another owner, i’ll just have to see you after class. i’ll be right outside your door. okay? now scram.”

• he flicks your forehead and walks with you to your next class. you grumble playfully. on your way, you meet eyes with the girls earlier. they’re shell-shocked, previously unbeknownst of your existence, you give them a small wave before holding his arm tightly and smiling to yourself.

• tendou is the life of the party wherever he goes. everybody seems to know him and it’s not always because of volleyball. he just seems to be friends with everyone. he’s the type to be chatting with teachers, students, the old, the young. he’s a mood setter and everybody loves him.

• you fell for him. hard.

• before dating him, it made you a little agitated that everybody got along with him so well. you never knew if his smooth words and instantaneous charm were factors of all his conversations. you could never approach him, since you’d never been good at displaying romantic intentions through actions. unfortunately, these small thoughts persisted even after he himself approached you and asked you out for coffee after school one day, despite not knowing you at all. even after he kissed you on the step of your door months later. even after he eventually begged you to be his.

• you aren’t too big on publicly displaying your relationship. initiating PDA was never your thing. you weren’t embarrassed of him at all, you just preferred to stay completely professional and education-orientated when in school. he’ll tease you, once even told you you remind him of a female ushijima... before staring at the ground to reflect on his own comment and taking it back vehemently (he doesn’t want to imagine dating his best friend in front of you).

• whenever you ask him if girls talk to him, he hushes you copiously, assuring you that every man and woman that’s entered his life after you as resembled humanoid blobs in purple uniform. he has eyes for only you.

• you’re a little cold, you tend to be when jealousy sets in. like that one day your friend told you that this notoriously pretty second year had approached him, handing him a blank lined sheet and asking for his help with her english work. you found out later that she’d thanked him with fluttering eyelashes and big smiles, before frowning down at the paper.

• he’d ended up practicing his signature over and over on the page because -and you quote- “i suck at english too but this paper was good document-signing practice, so thanks!”

• a relief washes over you. you and tendou are stark opposites, in fact, the only time you ever feel obliged to lose your cool is over him. however, you know he’s loyal. he loves you very much and hopes that you’ll come to trust him with your entire heart one day.

• you vow to work on it, hard.

if sugawara was my s/o i’d just accept that everyone else would probably fall in love with him too

• this boy is made of honey. the first time you laid eyes on him was during first year, noir jacket slung over his shoulder, beautiful, silver hair rustling as he tried to shut the class window as you walked in, you were hooked.

• you felt utterly helpless at how infatuated with him you were. your friends all felt the same way. picture: sighing together and staring whenever he did ANYTHING. he was so sweet to absolutely everybody. nobody could ever bring them selves to defy, ignore or be aggressive with koushi. from the start it felt like you had competition.

• you’re a happy-go-lucky, loud-mouth shithead with an abudance of enthusiasm and energy but this third year makes your knees shake. walking up to him on a summer’s evening to ask him out, you could barely even talk. luckily, he did all the talking for you. your time together has been nothing but loving history.

• sugawara likes to spend his free time with you, often lunches, where he’s adamant on feeding you lots and lots of his own cooking to ensure you’re well-fed.

• imagine your surprise, when you’re walking, hop in your step, over to your usual meeting place and see your boyfriend sitting with another girl, feeding them. your heart practically falls out of your ass. steps slowing, you don’t even try to hide your alarm as you approach him. koushi’s face is to you, smiling and laughing. he catches sight of you and waves happily.

• your expression doesn’t change. you’re confused, hurt, unsure of how to act. should you just pretend like everything is fine? you feel like criticising them but they’re just eating. god, you’re overthinking this.

• “(y/n)! say hi to hinata!”

huh?

the girl turns around.

oh god.

• hinata’s blowing unattractively on strands of hair that are stuck to his face, before leaping up to greet you. he’s wearing a god damn wig.

“ah! (y/n), hi! i took totally weird, don’t i. it’s for this stupid drama class. i seriously thought i’d get to act and do fight scenes and look super cool to girls but instead, they made me dress up as a high-school girl! it’s ‘cause i’m short, they said!”

• you’re not even listening, just wallowing in your shame at how panicked you were.

“—i ran into sugawara and he let me try some lunch, have you eaten?” you shake your head, before grinning and suddenly grabbing the younger boy, trapping him in a playful headlock and making him squirm.

“oi, hinata. you gave me a scare, makin’ me think some doe-eyed lowerclassman was chatting up my boyfriend!”

• he whines and apologises profusely. koushi just sits and laughs, munching on his lunch and watching you give the poor boy hell. he’d never dream of that, he know you’d do worse to him if that were ever the case.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #sugawara headcanons #sugawara x reader #tendou headcanons #tendou x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #HSDJSOSK THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE #the last one especially #hq

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ask-purpled-and-blued · 3 years

Text

Vigilante

Not once has Purpled ever called himself a hero.

He wants that on record, wants to say it up front. He’s never had any delusions about what he is and what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have the license for it, doesn’t have the morals for it. He’s not even saving that many people.

He’s just some kid running around in pro hero cosplay with his shoddy homemade support gear.

So riddle him this: why the fuck is his vigilante name trending on Twitter under #Swag_forHeroCon?

(—This one’s got a high-stress moment and the briefest panic attack known to man somewhere in the middle. Mind the post’s tags and reply if it needs more.—)

—

It started about a year ago. It’s sophomore year and he’s looking at his options for next year’s classes.

Of course he’s taking AP Calc and everything he thinks colleges wanna see. That’s a given and a no-brainer and he’s not gonna go into detail about that.

No, what matters is that his junior and senior year let him take career classes.

Hero-related career classes.

Because not only is this a private nerd school that he needs his scholarship to afford. It’s a private nerd school that has a dual-enrollment type thing with a nearby heroics school.

And one with a pretty good support course that is now available to him.

He’s always been interested in math and engineering. Support courses are just using both of those to make cool shit for heroes and make hella money while doing so.

He’s done his research. Support gear can cost anywhere from a couple thousand dollars to an arm and a leg and both your kidneys.

And it’s his dream to make that kinda money.

So he talks to his counselor about it, fills out the applications and waivers, takes the program’s entrance exam. And within a week he’s got his new schedule that’s got an extra two hours slapped onto the end of the day.

It’s gonna be so worth it.

—

And it really was.

The beginning of the year was covering what they should make support gear for, how to take the quirks and ideas of the heroes they’re working for and make them actually work.

But also the design process, how to research stuff, lab safety. How to make something look nice while not compromising its utility, costume design, branding. Different materials and their uses, different materials and how to work with them. How to deal with mistakes and set-backs. Avoiding burnout and getting literally burn.

The class was amazing. But his favorite part came later in the year.

The final project.

They were given a made up hero student’s profile and were told to create a support item for them. The file came with their name, measurements, hero name, quirk description, and several sketches of what the fake person looked like and of them using their quirk.

They were given a few deadlines and some profiles came with design requests, but for the most part they were allowed to go ham.

And go ham he did.

His assignment was a kid whose quirk was being able to float just himself. He got a couple sketches of what the kid’s costume already had and it looked like there was a bee theme going on.

So, naturally, he decided to give this kid a pneumatic nail gun.

...

Alright so maybe that wasn’t as intuitive as he thought it was. But the kid didn’t have any sort of weapon on him in any of the sketches!

And there wasn’t any sort of close combat abilities listed in the biography like some of his classmates’s people had, so the further this kid could be from the action while still packing a punch the better.

Hence the nail gun he was designing to look like a stinger.

He did his research. Looked up where the body’s vital organs are and read up on acupuncture. Looked up the damage that stab wounds can do and how fast a thing had to be going to go right through you.

Printed out some human outlines and wrote up a couple sheets that pointed out the “no-no spots.” And basically wrote a manual on how to use the thing and half an essay on why certain safety features were implemented to keep him and the fake kid from being sued.

And then halfway through actually building the thing he got the idea to add a paralytic substance.

And then he hated himself a little bit because he had to find a substance that would be non-lethal and would have the desired affect. And then he had to go to his teacher during his office hours to sit down and explain that yes he had this idea but he’s not entirely sure if it’s a good one.

And he wrote another almost-essay about what he chose as the paralytic substance and why he chose it and what the max amount the average person could take was so that he wouldn’t be liable if it was used improperly.

And then he recorded himself reading all of his paperwork both for extra credit and because apparently the kid’s bio said he was dyslexic and the teacher wanted them to do this as realistically as possible.

Probably would’ve been easier to just change the font but he’s come this far, might as well go the extra mile.

He paints the thing. Gathers up all his research and his concept sketches and his blueprints and his explanations and his recordings.

And he dumps them on the teacher’s desk and enjoys the lull in the class as the final projects get reviewed and graded.

They get to watch movies and Netflix with the TA while the teacher sits in the other room grading them.

He loved this class.

—

He still loves the class but it loses points for the fucking heart attack it just gave him.

Apparently the hero students they made shit for we’re real hero students. Actual, physical people who applied to the heroics department and got in. And may possibly one day be heroes if they didn’t fail.

And were going to come in and see the shit they made that passed inspections. And would be given said shit to use as part of their hero costumes.

In hindsight it should’ve been obvious, but Purpled cut himself some slack there.

At least his guy was nice. A little too excited at 4pm on a Thursday, but given the fact that Purpled just handed him a gun and said he could shoot people, it was understandable.

Purpled felt really good as he walked this Tubbo guy through the instructions again. Apparently he’d already been sent the paperwork and the audio before this. So all that was left to do was remind him about it the important stuff and then taking five wide steps back and letting him shoot at a practice dummy.

...

Well, Tubbo’s aim wasn’t his problem.

F to any villains and civilians in his way.

—

At this point, there’s probably some confusion.

“Purpled, why did you become a vigilante if your support gear inventing future looked bright?”

He’s getting to that!

He needs to talk about his junior year to give context for his senior year.

Which sucked absolute ass.

—

For one, Purpled’s quirk came in.

Now, normally that would be a pretty good thing. Somewhere around 80% of America’s population had quirks.

Four out of every five people had some sort of ability or abnormality that ranged from being able to detach your ear to having super strength. Getting one that wasn’t detrimental to your health, even at his age, was generally a positive thing.

Except Purpled’s actually sucked. Sucked so fucking bad.

Yeah, he was lucky in that he didn’t suddenly grow gills and need to live underwater for the rest of his life or something. But he honestly wished he could go back to a week ago when he didn’t have this quirk.

When he wasn’t constantly being forgotten by the people in his life because of a quirk he couldn’t turn off.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the quirk counselor’s quirk let them detect the use of quirks, he would’ve thought he’d lost it.

People forgetting his face, his name, his existence over the span of a week was hell. He had to show his mother his birth certificate and social security card and his baby pictures so that she’s remember she had another son. Let alone everyone else in his life that he only saw at school.

Oh god his fucking school.

The lengths he had to go to to keep his fucking scholarship was fucking nuts.

Classes were a nightmare with the teachers forgetting about him by the end of the period.

Things eventually got easier when he realized it was an area of effect thing and that he could shorten it to affect people within a few feet of him.

From that point on he just had to social distance from people like his life depended on it. Because his social and academic lives did depend on it.

He didn’t experiment with his quirk beyond that though. He hated it. He did everything in his power to keep it as tightly controlled as he could.

Until the one time he didn’t.

—

He was out to get another notebook because he’d severely underestimated how many notes he’d need to take for one of his classes. It was just supposed to be a quick stop on his way home.

He’d sat on the bus home with his quirk pulled in tightly around him, the force of it a buzzing weight on his skin that he refused to let go of.

He got off at a stop that wasn’t his but was closer to the dollar store he had in mind. He honestly didn’t expect to take more than ten minutes.

Then a guy walked in and loudly told the cashiers to hand over the money.

Purpled wasn’t that close to the front, but he peeked around the aisle and watched the robbery unfold.

The dude had what looked like leaves for hair and was holding the cashiers at gunpoint. There were two of them at adjacent checkouts, neither of them with any visible mutations. They actually might not have quirks.

Purpled has no idea what to do with this information.

His best bet was to wait for the heroes to arrive and stay quiet-

One of the cashiers was looking right at him. Robber guy noticed.

Turned around and pointed his gun at Purpled. Told him to get out from where he was hiding and to kneel on the ground in the open.

And Purpled was scared. He couldn’t move, he’d frozen.

The guy got loud and mad and he still had the gun pointed at him.

Purpled was panicking. His chest felt too tight and his quirk was freaking out. Buzzing harder than it ever has.

He couldn’t hold it. He let go.

...

For a moment, everything was still and everything was quiet.

Purpled felt light, he felt more at ease than he had in months.

Because his quirk was free and loose and everyone else in the room looked so fucking confused. Like they had no idea what was going on.

Like they just forgot what was going on.

And then the heroes arrived. How they knew to be here was anyone’s guess.

Purpled should probably give his statement.

Purpled was probably in shock though. So he forgave himself for shoplifting and not pulling his quirk back in. For just walking right out of the store and down the street.

Nobody shouted at him or called him back, so he assumed they forgot he was there.

He wished he could forget he was in the store for that moment too.

—

There’s a lot of other little things that lead up to Purpled being a vigilante, but those things don’t matter as much.

He drops out. It’s not hard to make people forget he even went to school.

He regularly breaks back into school to steal tools and materials for his projects and just wipes the people who walk in on him doing that shit.

Makes a costume but scraps it and decides to make several replicas of the top twenty’s costumes.

Because he’s realized that the wider he makes his range the less of an effect his quirk has on all those in range. Vice versa.

So the pro gamer move here is to make people forget what they saw the person in the pro hero costume doing instead of trying to make them forget they saw an unfamiliar figure doing shit.

Memory is reconstructive after all. Easily manipulated even without a quirk like his.

And he’s good at making his costumes and altering his appearance.

He probably won’t always do a good job wiping people’s memories though, so he lets it stick that there’s a vigilante that impersonates pro heroes. One that constantly shifts their appearance.

He even gets bold and makes a name for himself.

Swag_.

...

Listen he didn’t say it was a good name-

—

He doesn’t stop a lot of crime. And the people he does save often think they were saved by someone else.

But there’s always that one moment after he managed to save someone where they look at him. And they see him.

And that’s worth everything.

It’s not a selfless motive. It’s not a heroic motive.

But it’s enough of a motive for Purpled.

—

He doesn’t know how he got a following. Doesn’t know how he never noticed.

But he likes it. After the initial shock of seeing himself trending fades, he lets himself soak up all the positive attention.

And then he gets back to work.

#text post #lore post #ask purpled and blued #vigilante!purpled #purpled #purpled bedwars #superhero Au #gun mention #tw gun mention #ask to tag #long post #not proofreading this one

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thwip--thwip · 4 years

Note

Angst 16 with irondad?

“Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Peter’s exactly thirty-seven minutes, forty-two seconds late when he finally walks out of the elevator into Tony’s lab.

Tony knows this because he had F.R.I.D.A.Y. throw up a timer, which has been running steadily on a holoscreen to his right for the entire duration of his wait. Tony’s frown has been getting deeper and deeper the long it goes on, with no sign of Peter - he’s not answering texts or calls, which is becoming more and more worrisome, which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem - but he’s not in his suit, either. The vitals screen that’s always on the bottom left-hand corner of any workstation Tony’s on is blank, inactive.

So what the hell gives?

He’s been working himself up to real irritation - Tony’s a busy man, with plenty of shit that’s not going to do itself. So what if he’s started looking forward to these little lab sessions? So what if he enjoys the excitement the kid brings to stuff that’s old hat to Tony, reminding him of his MIT days, when everything was new to him, too? It has nothing to do with the fact that he feels a little stood up - Tony’s a busy guy, okay?

Peter trudges in through the elevator, and Tony’s prepared, stone-faced, with his arms crossed. He opens his mouth to let the first chiding remark fly when he promptly loses all air from his lungs, as Peter turns sheepishly to face him.

“Are you hurt?” Tony demands, which wasn’t what he was originally going to say, but it comes out in the same harsh tone. Peter winces more at that than he does the obvious injuries, because of course he does.

“No.” Peter pushes his hood down and sets his backpack by the lab station, turning away from Tony. Now that won’t do. Tony circles around to face Peter, hitting him with a signature raised brow.

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” And there really are, all over. He’s black and blue, already half healed, and Tony wonders if that’s why he was late, waiting for them to fade before realizing that they wouldn’t - or maybe he’d just decided this was good enough, which told Tony it must have been worse before -

“Would you - please stop?” Peter practically begs, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “I can see you panicking from here, Tony.”

“Panicking? Me? I’m not panicking.” Tony snorts, looking Peter over from head to toe for more injuries. “Why would I be panicking? My favorite intern shows up thirty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds late looking like he got into a fight with a steamroller - why would I be panicking?”

“You have it down to the second?” Peter asks, lips quirking into a small smile, and Tony stares him down, unimpressed.

“Shut up. You look like you saw the wrong end of a meat tenderizer.” Tony shoos Peter away from the workstation he’s inching towards, like he wants to open up his project and pretend he doesn’t have a concussion - because he must have something, Jesus, what the hell? “What happened? And don’t bullshit me, Parker.”

“Before you ask, I didn’t have the suit.” Peter raises his hands like he’s expecting Tony to shoot. Tony’s considering it, feeling the vein in his forehead start pulsing. Of course Peter would jump into a situation without his suit. Of course. “But I put MJ’s bandana over my face, and I had sunglasses on, so it’s not like they saw my face.”

“Yeah? Your disguise survived the beating?” Tony gestures to Peter’s person and Peter scuffs his shoe against the floor. He looks reluctant to elaborate, but there isn’t going to be any getting out of this one.

“That’s not from...that.” Peter hedges, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Tony stares, not easily dissuaded, until Peter sighs and slumps, defeated already. “I might have...run face-first into a billboard as I was trying to leave.”

“Pete.” It would be funny, if it hadn’t clearly fucked Peter up so bad. He must have been hauling ass; maybe he’d even broken his nose before showing up. “Kid, you gotta be more careful.”

“I know! I know.” Peter looks down at his feet, gaze nervously flickering up to Tony, then back down. “I wasn’t thinking I just - I had to jump in. I couldn’t ignore someone just - getting hurt, like that. Are you...are you mad at me?”

“Furious.” Tony blows out a long breath, closing the distance between them to clap Peter on the shoulder. “And proud. Aggravated, but worried. So many things, kid. You’re doing good, I just...wish you’d take care of yourself a little better.”

“Come on.” Tony musters up a smile, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “Let’s get some ice on that shiner, huh?”

“Hey,” Peter starts, as they head back towards the elevator. “Am I really your favorite intern?”

“Can it, Parker.” Tony growls, without any real bite, and Peter beams, clearly thriving under the indirect praise. “You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are.”

“But I’m your favorite pain in the ass.” Peter clarifies, laughing as Tony’s eyes roll to the Heavens. Well, he can’t argue with him there.

#ask #anon #milestone #peter parker #spiderman #iron man #irondad #tony stark #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #avengers

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Nine

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: cursing, vivid depiction of a panic attack do not read if this makes you uncomfortable, crying, blood, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices? Restraints, mentions of unwanted sexual acts? I suppose just sadness, man. The next chapter is going to get pretty dark, and this one leads up to that, so beware.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 7.1k~

A/N: Surprise!! Hi, I know this is early, but I had a productive week and felt inspired. I am so excited for like two chapters down the line, because there is a really sweet scene, that I can’t wait for you guys to read. Thank you for all the love, it means so much. Please like, reblog, comment so more people can see this series! I absolutely LOVE hearing from the readers of this series, and it is my favorite time of the week interacting with you, so please send me all the asks you want, I’m happy to answer questions about characters! You might learn a thing or two if you read those asks I answer ;) ALSO: I’m less than 50 followers away from 1,000... which is... insane. I’m going to do a drabble/ask maybe request thing once I reach 1,000 so stay tuned!

Jungkook’s eyes were panicked and Jin’s heart cracked at the sight, not remembering a time when Jungkook had been so passionate about something, the weight of his words settling in his own chest, “They took her.”

It’s dark and cold. Your eyelids are so heavy you don’t think you could open them if you tried. Your throat feels like the Sahara desert with how dry and scratchy it is, and your muscles feel like you attempted to run a marathon without stretching whatsoever. To put it simply, you feel like shit. But why?

The last thing you remember was sitting with Jungkook next to the small stream you found in the middle of the forest. Sharing your first kiss with him. The thought makes you smile mentally, taking your thoughts away from the searing pain you feel throughout your body. You’re not sure if you’re even awake right now, you can’t move any part of your body, nor can you open your eyelids. Were you in some sort of coma? No, there’s no way.

Did you fall asleep? That must be the case, right? Maybe you were so dehydrated and exhausted you passed out. Jungkook would take care of you, though, so you shouldn’t worry. But then again, why do you feel like you’ve been hit by eight trucks and thrown off an overpass?

Your body feels like lead, it’s so heavy, and you almost feel like you’re sinking. Your body is floating, you feel no hard surface beneath you, like you might if you were laying on the ground, but at the same time it’s like you're slowly falling through quicksand. It’s like you’re weightless, but entirely too heavy all at once. Nothing is really making sense to you right now, all you know is that you’re in pain, and you really, really want to wake up and ask Jungkook what’s going on. Is he okay? Are you okay? Your brain calls out to him, but nothing happens.

Your thoughts are cut short by a sudden sharp, shooting pain in your right arm. At least, you think it’s your right arm. You can’t be entirely sure, because it feels like your limbs aren’t quite attached to your body. You’re panicking, the pain is seeping through your veins, traveling to the rest of your floating limbs, connecting all your body parts together through a burning sensation that is one of the most unpleasant feelings you’ve ever experienced. You want to scream bloody murder, you want to open your eyes, you want to figure out what’s happening to you, but you can’t. You’re stuck in this dark abyss, unable to locate your mind or your body, unable to piece them together to become one being again.

The pain is duplicated on your left side now, the same acid like burning sensation traveling up the left side of your body. You’re starting to feel whole again, but at what cost? Your arms feel like jelly, yet you still can’t move them. They’re burning, like fire, it hurts so bad. If you could, you’d be crying out for help. For Jungkook. For Jin, for anyone to help you. You need help! Your brain is screaming out to anyone, but no one can hear you. You can’t even hear you, you can’t hear anything. You don’t even know if there is anyone around. Did Jungkook leave you? What did you do to deserve this kind of torture? For the first time in a couple of days, you think about Mina and Woo, how they would help you if they were here. You want your friends, Seokjin, Namjoon, anyone. Please…

Jungkook walked close by Jin, never straying from his side, clutching onto his hand tightly, as the seven of them traversed the forest. He hadn’t fully stopped crying since he woke up, tears blurring his vision as they travelled, thoughts of you swirling through his mind. All he could think about was you, the kiss you shared, the way you made him feel. He felt responsible for you, he was the reason you got separated from Jin in the first place, right? He took off without making sure the elder was with you. If he had just stayed, or maybe charged his stupid phone so Yoongi was able to track you, maybe you’d still be with him. There were so many things he could’ve done differently. I feel safe with you. Those words engulfed his mind. He didn’t deserve your trust, he let you down, and he would never forgive himself for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this low before, ever felt such a horrible pain of losing someone. He never knew his parents, never really had anyone besides Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Tae, so to finally have that with you, and to have it all ripped away in a few short days, was excruciating to him.

Once they realized they lost you, Namjoon urged them to push on, to make it to the outskirts of Seoul where they could come up with a plan. They hoped they still had Yeonjun on the inside, but they couldn’t be sure until Yoongi could get to a secure location to try and contact him. For all they knew, he could’ve given them away on purpose, though Namjoon liked to find the best in people, so he wasn’t completely sold on that idea. He was trying to keep a strong frame of mind for his group, he needed to be their pillar of support right now, make sure they were safe. But he was conflicted. Shouldn’t he have kept you safe, too? They accepted you as one of their own, told you that you could trust them, and now they’ve lost you. Namjoon felt horrible, like he should’ve been able to stop this, even though the logical side of his brain told him it was no one’s fault, really, except Big Hit’s. They were the only ones to blame in all of the unfortunate situations all of them have gone through.

While Jimin and Taehyung had yet to meet you, they could sense the pain the others were feeling. Even Hoseok’s demeanor had changed, and he barely knew you. He knew the people he loved most, loved you, he could feel it, and the fact that they were feeling pain, was bringing him down as well. Jungkook and Jin were enraptured by you, so there must be something special about you. What little time he spent with you told him that much. Would he ever get a chance to get to know you better? He hoped so. Even for the boys who weren’t close to you, they all understood the pain that you were probably in right now, and understood what you were about to be put through. Especially Taehyung. He just got back from the torturous experiments and shitty conditions they kept him in, and he hoped he would never have to return to them. The fact that you were experiencing the same, or similar things to what he had just gone through, was heartbreaking to him.

Once they were reunited, Taehyung clung to Hoseok and Jimin, looking to them for guidance and support, unsure of his feelings. He was so happy to be free of that place, but at what cost? Now they have you, an even rarer DNA makeup, he couldn’t imagine the things they would do to you. Sure, he didn’t know you, but he was an empath by nature, and was already feeling guilty over essentially switching places with you. His freedom for yours. It didn’t sit right with him, and so he was starting to slip, following Hoseok around like a lost puppy, a glazed look in his eyes.

Yoongi was trying to stay focused on getting to another safe house, or somewhere he would be able to potentially help you. He can’t believe the way he’s treated you since you’ve come to stay with them, and he’s been beating himself up about it since you all left the warehouse last night. He made you cry, he hurt you. You probably hated him, or at least thought he was cold, cruel even. He didn’t want you to remember him like that. Despite his often icy exterior, he didn’t like when people viewed him as cold-hearted, and he was pretty sure that’s how you saw him. He wanted to make sure he had the chance to redeem himself, to get to know you, actually know you. He was determined to get you back.

But no one was more determined, more distraught with your disappearance, than Seokjin. Not only had he spent the most time with you, and gotten to know you the best, but it was so much more than that. He could feel himself falling for you, for your shy exterior, but your deep faceted personality, your stunning features, and that adorable pout you wore when he was tending to your injuries. He was falling for you, much like he fell for the others. Maybe even harder, and he was not prepared to lose you without a fight. Aside from his strong feelings for you, he could see that Jungkook, his other half, was in just as deep, and that cut him to the core. They could have had something so special with you, with the others, that they haven’t experienced before, and you were ripped away from them. Just when he could tell Jungkook was starting to open up and blossom into the person he always hoped he’d become, you vanish into thin air. That hurt more than anything, the what if. What would happen if you were still here? Would your relationship bloom into something beautiful? Even if they get you back, which they will, Jin tells himself, you won't be the same. They all know what happens in that lab, and they couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse it will be for you, their first female. Jin shudders at the thought, catching the attention of his companion who is clinging to the back of his t-shirt.

Jungkook looks up at his elder with wide doe eyes, still glassy from earlier events. When Jin looked down at him, the dam that he had been holding together with a string, burst. He stopped in his tracks, making Jungkook stop as well, looking panicked as he reached out to wrap his arms around Jin. They stood in the middle of the forest, clinging to each other tightly, silently mourning the loss of what could have been.

The others slowly started to realize what was happening, one by one, and all started to gather around Jungkook and Jin, no words spoken, emotions telling their story. First was Hoseok, placing a comforting hand on Jungkook’s back, and leaning his forehead against his shoulder. Next, was Jimin and Taehyung, each wrapping an arm around their maknae to support him as he sobbed. Then, Namjoon approached the eldest, wrapping him up in a tight back hug, placing gentle kisses against the back of his exposed neck. Last was Yoongi, he was hesitant to offer his comfort, because he didn’t feel like he deserved to comfort them, didn’t feel like he deserved any place in this with how awful he had been to you. But grief at watching his love's hearts break, eventually pushed him to move, reaching up to wipe Jin’s tears away gently, as his own started to fall.

You blinked your eyes slowly, once. Twice. Three times. You felt the haze of the Sandman try to pull you under once more, but resisted with all your might. Even though you had no grasp on how long you’ve actually been asleep, your aching body told you it’s been too long.

You let your eyes slip shut again, the appeal of unconsciousness dangling just within grasp. You almost let it take over you, but you persist, opening your eyes one more time, blinking tightly to try and remove any leftover sleep from them. When you finally manage to peel back your eyelids, all you see is white.

Furrowing your brow, you try and turn your head to your right, but your neck feels like you haven’t moved in it decades, cracking under the pressure of movement. You let out a soft whimper from the back of your throat at the pain, but it sounds more like a growl with how low and gravely your voice is. You don’t even recognize it to be you for a moment, still uncharacteristically sleepy.

When you finally manage to twist your head to the side, you’re just met with more white, and more confusion. You’re in what looks like a small doctor’s exam room, like the ones you would go to at your pediatrician’s office when you were a kid. Only this one was completely void of any color or those posters that tell you about puberty.

White walls, white tile floors, white ceiling, a white table and chair in the far corner, and a white door. No windows, no sink like you’d usually find in a doctor’s office. The room closer resembled a holding cell at a prison than anything else. You try to sit up, but your muscles resist, instead shooting a searing pain from your shoulder down to your lower back, making you yelp in surprise.

The pain made you feel more awake than you have since you opened your eyes, and for the first time, you really take in your surroundings, realization hits you. Where is Jungkook? Jin? Anyone? You sit up, ignoring the cracking of your bones, biting back the scream that wants to escape your throat at the feeling. You wince, trying to bring your hand up to rub at your face in any attempt to wake yourself up, you must be dreaming right? Only your wrist is snapped back to the bed, a loud metal clanking sound echoing off the walls. Your head snaps down, eyes widening at the sight of a leather cuff strapped to your wrist, connected by a chain to what you can assume is the slats of the metal bed frame you’re currently laying on.

Looking over at your other wrist, you notice it is restrained in a similar way. Panic is starting to set in, your mouth slightly agape in fear, eyes comically wide as you frantically search for a way out of here. Your breathing is labored, you can feel that black shadow of anxiety creeping up your spine, bleeding into your throat and traveling into your nose, making it hard to take a deep breath. You’re suffocating, pulling at your restraints, you can’t inhale at all, it’s like someone is holding a pillow over your face.

“H-help!” You try and scream, but it only comes out as a garbled cry with how little air you have in your lungs. Tears are streaming down your face as you start to thrash in the bed. This can’t be happening. They got you, they took you. Did they get Jungkook, too? What about the others? The thought is enough to send you into another spiral of panic, neck straining with the need to escape. They can’t be here, you led them away, right? But, that means they probably took Jungkook, too. Or worse.

Your chest is heaving, soft whimpers escaping your throat as you attempt to take in any air your body will allow, when the white door to your room is thrown open, bouncing off the wall adjacent to it. The panic doesn’t stop, however, when you see who walks through the door. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, willing away whatever demons were bringing you this wretched dream. This can’t be real, you reason with yourself, it’s just a horrible nightmare.

“Pearl?!” Your father shouts, coming into the small room, another, shorter man, in a white lab coat following in behind him. You barely have any time to take a look at the other person in the room, as he preps a syringe, filled with an unknown substance that only makes your fear suffocate you further. “Pearl! Can you hear me, Pearl? It’s me, it’s dad!” Your father is kneeling next to your bed now, as the strange man approaches you, needle in hand.

“N-no!” Your high pitch scream startles both men, piercing their ears as you let out a wail when the man approaches you, stabbing the needle into your bare thigh. “N-no -n-no!” your voice wavers, stuttering to a complete silence, as your body falls back against the cardboard-esque mattress. Your breathing is evening out, eyes half-lidded as your brain feels like it’s floating. You aren’t asleep, no, just floating, peaceful even.

“Is she out?” you faintly hear your father ask.

“No, sir,” another voice sounds off, “it’s just a sedative. It’ll wear off in about an hour, but I don’t expect her to be in much better condition by then.”

You can hear them, though it kind of sounds like they’re underwater. Focus, YN, you tell yourself. Listen to what they’re saying. In your dazed state, you can’t really remember why exactly you should be listening, just that you should be listening.

“Are you going to keep her here?” You could hear your father ask, his voice sounded… strained? Your hazy mind was confused by the pained tone of his voice.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” the second voice sounded professional, yet there was a hint of regret to his tone, “that was part of the deal.”

Deal. What deal? Your foggy mind tried to hold on to that piece of information, but you were in and out of consciousness, your body felt like it was floating. The next time you regained consciousness and were able to decipher the voices again, you only heard one.

“Yeah, she’s here,” it was the second voice, the one you hadn’t recognized before, “no, I don’t.”

It sounded like he was speaking to someone, but you didn’t hear a second person anymore. You definitely didn’t hear your father.

“Look, I don’t have much time. They suspect me, but they haven’t done anything yet, though I’m expecting it soon. Yeah. I’ll try.”

You loll your head to the side, unable to do much to hold it up. You felt heavier than you did when you woke up the last time, but you were able to open your eyes slightly to catch a yellow haired man talking into a phone. “You really need to get here soon,” his back was to you, but you could hear the urgency in his voice. He lowered his voice when he spoke his next words, “They’re getting ready to run tests, you know how-” he cuts off abruptly, pausing for a second, “I can’t Namjoon.”

Namjoon? Your brain was feeling more alert at the mention of his name. Faintly, you could hear the yelling of another voice coming through the phone speaker. Was that really Namjoon? You were about to use all your strength to sit up and ask the young man, when the door slammed open again, another man in a white coat entering the room. The yellow haired guy immediately shoved his phone into his pocket, turning around, wide eyed.

“Yeonjun,” the second man addressed the yellow haired one, he sounded a bit surprised, “Soomin has been looking for you.” Yeonjun, you supposed, bowed slightly, walking out of the room quickly, but not before he sent you a worried look from behind the second man’s back.

You still couldn’t move much, bones and muscles feeling like gelatin, but when the man in the white lab coat approached you, you tried to sit up and scoot away from him. It didn’t take a genius to realize exactly where you were, now that your state of mind was a little clearer. The fact that your father was here, and seemed to know exactly why you were here, only confirmed what Namjoon told you a couple nights ago. It must be the drugs doing their job, because you weren’t feeling the panic and anxiety that was suffocating you earlier. You felt a little more clarity about where you were and what was happening to you, even though you were no less scared.

As you tried to back up against the wall, your right wrist tugged on the chain, preventing you from moving any further. The man didn’t care, though, as he continued to close in on you, eventually settling for sitting on the end of your bed. He was way too close to you for you to feel comfortable at all. You pulled your knees to your chest with all the strength you had left in you, even though you couldn’t hug them like you wanted too, you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you know where you are?” The man asked, his voice low and placating. You didn’t trust him, something felt off about him. You squint your eyes at him slightly, shaking your head. He takes a deep breath, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re at a testing facility for natural borns,” he begins with a smile, one that you can see right through, “we brought you here because your family sold your rights to your DNA. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, but it will help you cope in the long run. I know it’s a lot to handle, and so we have therapists on staff to work with you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Your voice is so rough you hardly recognize it. You give one of your chains a quick tug to prove your point. You don’t miss the way his eyes flash with anger, only momentarily, before he steels his features, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah, yes,” he sighed, rubbing his chin with his hand, “the restraints were for our safety. We didn’t know how you would react once you were awake, but I promise we aren’t always like this, in fact, it’s actually pretty nice here once we get you set up in your own room.” The smile he wore was disgustingly fake, it was unnerving. Everything about him was unnerving. He must be a designer baby, one that borderlines the uncanny valley. He starts to reach his hand out to touch you, a creepy smile on his face that makes you want to scream, instead you shake your head quickly, making it known you don’t want him to touch you. He doesn’t care, though, instead his hand continues it’s path until it’s resting awkwardly on your ankle. It’s almost like he wasn’t human, but was trying to mimic the action of comfort that humans normally do.

“Why am I here?” You ask quickly, your voice squeaky as you pull your foot from his grasp, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“I told you, Miss Y/L/N,” he sighs again, like he was annoyed by your questioning, and pulls his hand back to his lap, “your family sold-”

“Why. Am I here.” You gritted your teeth, willing the tears threatening to break the dam, away.

“Miss Y/L/N,” his voice was suddenly more stern than before, turning in his seat to face you head on, “it’s better if you don’t ask questions. Things will be easier here for you if you accept it.” His words scared you more than he himself did, accept it? That’s what it came down to, right? You’re stuck here. You had no idea if you’d ever escape like the twins did, had no idea if the others even cared to get you back.

You shook your head back and forth, dislodging some of you unshed tears, biting at your lips hard enough to draw blood. If you were stuck here, you at least needed one question answered. “Where is Jungkook?”

The man scoffed at your question, making your tears fall harder, “That boy? They left him in the forest. He’s no use for us here. Now, I have some things to go over with you.”

You sniffled hard, trying to stop the tears from flowing, as your focus wavered, not really listening to anything else he had to say. At least Jungkook wasn’t here, at least he had a chance of escaping. You could only hope that the others found him and he was able to get back to them. You didn’t know them very long, they would forget you soon enough. That was what you were going to hold on to if you had to be here. At least it wasn’t him.

“Are you listening?” The man asked, more aggressive than before. Your head snapped up, tears still falling, as you looked him in the eye again. He lets out another sigh, standing up from the bed, “You’re going to be administered medication three times a day. You already had your first dose this morning when you were brought in, and someone will be by shortly to give you your second. It’s very important that you eat the food they give you with it, otherwise your body won't be healthy enough for testing. You’re very valuable to us here, so if you don’t take care of your body, someone else will, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” He gives you one last fake smile before turning and heading for the door. You watch him with a furrowed brow, tears flowing like a river down your face. He turns around, hand on the doorknob, “And YN, dear? Welcome to Big Hit.”

You’re not sure how long you were left alone in that insanity inducing white room before someone came back, you were too lost in your own thoughts, unable to self-soothe, due to your hands being chained to the bed. You sat as close to the wall as you could get, knees pulled to your chest as you sobbed into your knees. By the time you heard the door creak open, you were nearly out of tears, devoid of any emotion, other than hopelessness, maybe.

“YN?” A woman’s voice called out. It sounded sweet, but you knew better. You didn’t lift your head, didn’t acknowledge her at all. She huffed a little when you didn’t respond, walking into the room and closing and locking the door after her.

“YN, dear,” she said again, wheeling over a metal cart to your bedside, “you need to eat something.” She set a tray of something down on the small desk in the room, but you didn’t bother to look at it. You could smell it from here, and it didn’t smell appetizing.

When the woman realized you weren’t going to speak, she came over and sat on the edge of your bed, as far away from you as possible, as if she was afraid of you. Like I could do anything, you scoffed, mentally.

“YN, I know you’re upset,” she sighed, “but if you don’t eat, dear, they’re going to force feed you, or worse, run a tube through your nose.” You perked up at this knowledge, head tilting to the side slightly, but still not looking at her. “I’ve seen them do it plenty of times to patients. You need to be healthy, darling.” She sounded kind, older, wiser than you. But you didn’t care. Why would you care if you were healthy? For all you knew, you could die in here. Then what was the point of eating at all? Maybe it would be better if you starved yourself to death instead of whatever horrors they were going to put you through.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” You surprised both the nurse and yourself when you spoke, your mouth betraying your brain. Your voice was even scratchier than before, and you sighed at the sound.

“Didn’t Dongin tell you, darling?” Dongin, that must have been the white lab coated man from earlier. Did he tell you? You honestly couldn’t remember. You spaced out halfway through what he was saying, thoughts only on Jungkook. You decide that no, he didn’t, and you tell the nurse as much. “YN, you’re here for donations. I would’ve thought your father told you that long ago?” She sounded puzzled, like she didn’t really even know what was going on here.

You looked up at her for the first time since she walked in, shocking her with the dead look in your eyes. You decided to play her to your advantage, maybe she really didn’t know what was going on.

“Tell me what?” You asked,as innocently as you could muster.

The woman furrowed her brows at your, reaching out a hand to place on your leg. You flinch away from her, making her pull back instantly. Maybe she was kinder than the rest. No, you can’t let yourself believe that. “Darling, you were born here. The company was taking back what was theirs in the first place. Not that I agree with that, or anything, but you know how these big pharmaceutical companies work. All about their money.” She rambled on, her tone almost disbelieving that you didn’t already know the things she was telling you, but you didn’t feel like you had any answers to your questions. You only had more questions. Taking back what’s theirs?

“What do you mean, ‘what was theirs’?” You straighten your legs out a bit, knees popping and cracking as you do. You bring your hands as far into your lap as you can without straining them against the cuffs.

The nurse was looking even more confused than you felt, pinching her brows together tightly and pursing her lips. “I - I don’t think I should be telling-”

“Soomin!” A man, the yellow haired one from earlier, bursts through the door, cutting the woman off and making her jump at least a foot in the air in shock. Turning around quickly, Soomin stands and bows to the man before scurrying out of the room, bowing one last time for good measure, before she’s gone. The young man runs his hand through his hair, huffing a breath of air as he closes the door behind him.

“YN-” he rushes over, dropping to his knees in front of you, frightening you into backing up as much as you could again, on the defense, “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. At least not on purpose.” He was talking so quickly you could barely keep up, “My name is Yeonjun, and I work with Namjoon and Yoongi for an organization that helps natural borns. I’m the one who helped Jimin and Tae escape yesterday, and I think the company is starting to catch onto me.” He takes a deep breath, looking over his shoulder quickly and then back at you, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You nod, slowly, still not exactly following the frantic man.

“That nurse is going to come in here in about fifteen minutes to administer hormones to you,” you furrow your brow at this new information. Yeonjun must sense your confusion, because he quickly explains, “They’re trying to harvest your eggs, YN. They’re trying to use your DNA for new experimental designer babies,” he shakes his head, a look of disgust written on his face, “it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you take the hormones, and you eat. I know, I know you don’t want to, and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s going to hurt.” You wince at his words, and he softens his gaze, pursing his lips, “I’m sorry YN, but the only way I’m going to be able to get you out of here, is if you play along. They have to believe that you’re complacent before they’ll move you to a less secure area of the building. I don’t know how long it’ll take for them to move you, so I need you to play along to speed up the process, but I will do my best to deter them from… experimenting on you, for now.”

Yeonjun looks uncomfortable as both his hands grip the side of the mattress. “E-experiment?” You aren’t sure you want to know what he meant by it, but you’re sure you’ll regret it if you don’t.

He sighs, looking sideways for a second, not wanting to look you in the eye. “It takes a long time to successfully create an embryo in a lab…” he trails off, still looking anywhere but your face, “it’s relatively… quick, in a human body.” He coughs, clearing his throat as he looks back up at your mortified face.

The weight of where you are and what is going to happen to you here, suddenly hits you. It’s like a giant wave, crashing on top of you, pulling you under water, trapping you on the ocean floor. Your throat felt like it was closing again.

“YN, look at me,” Yeonjun begged, and you obeyed, trusting this man before you, “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to keep that from happening, but you have to comply with them, or it’s going to make it harder for me to do that. Okay? Do you understand?” You were breathing heavily, eyes blinking rapidly, but you nodded your head at him, gulping as you did.

“B-but, why? I- I don’t understand what t-the nurse said,” you stuttered, still desperately trying to suck in a decent breath of air, “what did s-she mean?”

Yeonjun looks conflicted, but answers your questions anyways, “I don’t have the entire story, but what I do know is that your dad used to work here. I guess he still kind of does, in a way? But from what I have heard, him and your mom struggled to have a baby…” he trailed off, like he really doesn’t want to answer your question. He’s staring at you with furrowed brows, like he’s trying to get a read on you, trying to determine if you’re mentally aware enough to hear this information.

“The company agreed to… help, on one condition. You were still their property, and when you turned eighteen, you were to come back to the company. You were one of their experiments, YN.”

Your mouth drops open slightly at his words. You weren’t sure what you felt, sadness… anger? Were you not a natural born? Did you go through all that torment in school, in life, all for nothing? You were actually one of these God forsaken designer babies, forced to live a life of secrecy, and for what? To be bullied into a crippling depression? Your mind was reeling with this new information, you had no idea what you were supposed to do with this.

“So I belong to them?” You blink your eyes tightly a few times, trying to hold back tears, unable to rub at your eyes like you want. You pull slightly at your chains, letting out a broken sob. “I-I’m one of them?”

Yeonjun sighs, shaking his head and looking up at your watery eyes. “I’m sorry, YN, I wish I had more information about what exactly you are, and I wish I could have told you this under better circumstances. The goal was for Namjoon and Yoongi to bring you to the safe house so they wouldn’t be able to take you, but obviously that didn’t work out.” There was remorse in his words, but no anger. He understood it wasn’t their fault, or yours. It was this horrible company's fault. They were the only ones to blame.

“I have to go, YN, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he stood up. He placed a hand gently over your head, stroking your hair back once before turning to leave. “Please, listen to them. For now. I’m going to help you, I promise.”

You look into his eyes one last time before he nods once, leaving the room, locking it behind him. No longer do you have the distraction of conversation to sate your mind. Now you’re free to spiral into the dark depths your brain created for you.

Your parents have been lying to you for your entire life. Were they really even your parents? Could you trust them? Your father did seem conflicted when he was here earlier, almost like he didn’t want to leave you here. What Yeonjun said circled back in your mind. They were only supposed to have you until you turned eighteen. But you were twenty three now. Had they been the ones keeping you from Big Hit?

You thought back to that fateful morning only a few days ago, when your father met with Hyunwoo. Was he telling him to leave you alone, would he have protected you, did you screw yourself over by leaving with Namjoon and the others?

The others. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to them. Were they okay? You hoped so. You could only hope that they were able to get out of that forest, and finally able to reunite with one another. You hoped that Seokjin and Jungkook wouldn’t blame themselves for you being taken, though knowing what little you do know of them, they probably would. Your heart ached for them. You’ve come to care about them so much in the past few days, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said a part of you didn’t hope they would come for you.

You heard Yeonjun on the phone earlier, though the memory was a bit fuzzy. He did tell them to come here, and even though you wished they would help get you out of here, a larger part of you hoped that they would stay away. They had a chance to be away from this place, once and for all. All of them, together. You didn’t want to stand in the way of that.

Lost in your thoughts, you startled violently when the door to the small room opened again. It was the nice nurse from earlier, Soomin? When she shut the door behind her, she tsked at your pitiful sight. Still curled into the smallest form your restraints would allow, dried tear tracks staining your face.

Taking a wash cloth from her little cart, she walks over to you, holding it up as a way of asking for permission. You remember Yeonjun’s words from earlier, and nod your head in acceptance.

Soomin sighs, wiping the tears from your face, “You’ll be able to take a shower and get cleaned up once we get some food in your and you take your meds, okay?” You nod as she continues to clean your face.

When she’s done, she brings the small plate of food over to you, setting it on the bed in front of you. Carefully, she feeds you the oatmeal and fruit, and while you would normally protest, not wanting to eat, fearful that you’ll just throw it right back up, you’re mindful of what Yeojun said. You need to be complacent. What could happen if you weren’t, was so much worse than having a nice older woman spoon feed you breakfast foods.

After you finished off the fruit, Soomin went back to her cart, putting on gloves and setting up what looked like syringes and tiny glass bottles, holding some kind of liquid. You wince as she picks up one of the needles, bringing it to the tiny bottle, and pulling the liquid out.

“Lie back for me, YN,” she says sweetly, walking back over to the bed. You look at her hesitantly, fear in your eyes. You’ve never liked needles, always been afraid of them. “It will only hurt a little, okay, dear?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nod, just wanting to get this over with. Laying back on the brick like pillow they provided you with, you try to relax into the similarly firm mattress. When Soomin lifts your shirt gently, you jump, definitely not expecting her to touch you there. “W-wait!” you shout, louder than you mean to. “W-wait, p-please! Where are you putting that?!” You whimper, not wanting her to touch you further.

Soomin backed away for a moment, looking at you like you were a disobedient child. “Darling, it’s just a shot. It’s going to go in your lower stomach, I have a few of them.”

You shake your head, eyes filling with tears as you try and sit up, “No, please, don’t” you beg, wrists pulling at your restraints harder now.

“YN, dear, please calm down,” she shushes you, walking closer and placing a hand on your stomach, holding you down slightly, “it will be quick, okay?”

You let out a sob as she brings up the cotton pad to clean your skin for the injection. She does it on both sides of your belly, before cleaning on a small patch on your outer thigh, as well. You let her, though your body is trembling in fear as she does it. Your brain is instantly transported back to the searing pain you felt earlier when you were in your coma state. Is that what you were about to feel again? Before you could think too deeply about it, you feel her gloved hand on you again, causing you to jolt.

“Deep breath,” she says, before you feel a sharp pain in your stomach, making you jerk up and cry harder. Soomin pushes on your stomach with her free hand, holding you still. The searing pain from before flushes through your veins, not as intense as before, but hot, like the blood in your veins is boiling.

Your entire body is shaking with sobs by the time she finishes, not bothering to clean up the small drops of blood pooling at the entrance wounds. Maybe she isn’t as kind as you originally thought.

You feel violated. You weren’t able to stop it, to defend yourself. Even though it was only a shot, only some hormones, you felt completely stripped of your rights. That experience really solidified to you that you are nothing more than property to them, a doll, to do with what they please, and that thought breaks you when you remember Yeonjun’s words again today. You have to comply.

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep.

To be continued...

A/N: thanks for making it all the way to the end, I’m so excited to write the next couple of chapters, ahhhh!! xx

taglist: @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

ok i updated tags, but some still wouldn’t let me tag!! tumblr has been doing me dirty these last couple of weeks, so please REBLOG to people can see this

#bts x reader #bts angst #ot7 angst #ot7 x reader #ot7 smut #bts smut #cypherwritersnet

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liberty-barnes · 4 years

Text

Keep You Safe

Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Prompt: “I can’t decide if that’s cute or something characteristic of a psychopath”

Warnings: slightly creepy Peter, but like the endearing kind of creepy, also Petey being a dork,,,as always, protective Peter Parker, Endgame related angst but only for a sec, cuddlesssss, and fluff, lots of fluff, because I’m a hoe for fluff... and Tom Holland’s biceps but that’s a story for another day

Word Count: 2167 words

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: School has officially closed which means that I’m now forced to stay home all day (which wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t locked at home with my dad and he’s getting on every single one of my nerves) and do the homework our teachers send us by email... I didn’t even know Microsoft Teams and OneNote existed until a week ago... so that’s something. I usually write stuff on paper during class cause let’s be honest, I only pay attention to what my teachers are saying when I’m forced to (don’t do this kids, listen to teachers, God I’m a such a bad example) so I’ve got about 5 stories written and I thought “Hey, since I’m too lazy to do my physics homework, why not post it all on tumblr?” So yeah, hi, this is my version of “quarantine is driving me crazy and I need an escape”. And before you ask, yes, I’ve succumbed to the toilet paper juggle thing already, it was not pretty.

Masterlist

Peter Parker was not a creep, he was simply a worried boyfriend.

There is nothing wrong with following your girlfriend after school to make sure she gets home safe before going back to the Tower. Or asking Karen to alert him whenever you leave the house so he could follow you to make sure you were safe. Or gifting you one of those morse code bracelets that monitored your vitals and location because he knew you’d never take it off and that way he could constantly know where you were and how you were feeling.

Peter Parker was not a creep.

He watched from his vantage point on top of a building as you and MJ left the mall, Slurpees in hand and carrying at least five shopping bags each, most of them being from art stores and only a couple from clothing. The sight of your bright smile made his heart burst with affection and he listened intently, still able to hear your melodic laugh over the hustle and bustle of the busy street.

He followed you at a safe distance, losing sight of the two of you as you entered the subway. Karen kept him aware of your whereabouts though, and he saw you again when you exited the subway station, now alone.

You walked a couple more blocks and entered your apartment building, but Peter only truly relaxed once he saw you entering your bedroom, having a clear view through your window.

He stayed for a few more minutes, admiring how beautiful you looked doing something as mundane as cutting tags off your newly bought clothes and throwing out the plastic wrapped around your new art supplies.

He then made his way to the Tower, where the Avengers chose to live again, for practical purposes.

“Hey everyone!” He immediately greeted his teammates after walking into the kitchen, mask off and hair slightly messy.

“Hey Pete,” The twenty-year-old witch gave him a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, already knowing that the boy would be parched.

Peter kissed her cheek and did the same to Pepper, Carol, and Morgan who were all sitting at the table playing Uno, no doubt to make the young Stark happy.

“Where is everyone?” The young spiderling asked after downing his water bottle.

“Bucky and Sam are in the gym, Bruce is messing with something in the labs, and Sharon went grocery shopping with Rhodey.” Carol set down a blue five, not even looking up from her hand. For a superhero, she sure sucked at card games.

“Oh, okay. I’m going to my room, be back to help with dinner!” He called back before walking to the elevator and pressing the button to his and May’s floor.

After everyone returned from the Blip, the Parkers lost their home and Pepper immediately offered them a floor at the Tower, not wanting her not-really-but-still-kind-of-feels-like-it son and his aunt to be living on the streets. Peter was very happy to be living with some of his favorite people in the world and very grateful for the opportunities it provided him.

He entered his room and pressed the button on his chest, the suit retracting to a simple spider pendant that hung around his neck, looking like an ordinary chain. He took it off and put it in his charging cradle before changing into a pair of grey sweatpants (your favorite though he still doesn’t understand why) and his blue Midtown sweatshirt.

He sat on his desk chair, ready to start his homework but a vibration from his phone made him postpone the task, choosing instead to open the messaging app on his custom made StarkPhone.

Princess 👑 ❤️: heyy :) Princess 👑 ❤️: can i meet you at the tower later? Princess 👑 ❤️: i want cuddles :)))

He smiled at that and immediately texted you back.

Baby🕷️ ❤️: i’ll ask Rhodey and Shar to pick you up on their way home :) Baby🕷️ ❤️: love you <3 Princess 👑 ❤️: love you more <33

He texted Sharon and after receiving confirmation that you were in the car with them, he turned his phone face down on the desk to avoid any distractions and started on his English homework, hoping to be done with it when you got here so he could cuddle in peace with his beloved girlfriend.

Twenty minutes later, he was almost done with his homework, fully engrossed in the words on the page that he had to meticulously read, highlight and analyze. He barely noticed when you entered the room, his spidey sense no longer detecting you as a threat, but took a much-needed breath of relief when he felt your hands around his shoulder, rubbing softly.

No words were needed as you kept rubbing his shoulders while he finished his homework, relishing in the soft kisses you left on the crown of his head from time to time. He finished the last sentence on his analysis and set his pen down, sighing. He closed his eyes and put his head back so it rested on your shoulder and you kissed his forehead, hands around his neck, hugging his upper body from behind.

“Cuddles now?” You asked, voice soft and soothing reaching his over-worked brain.

“Yeah, baby, let’s go.”

You kissed him on the forehead once more and took off your shirt, staying in your white lace bra and pastel pink sweatpants before laying down on the king-sized bed. You made grabby hands at him and he took off his own shirt, laying down between your legs and resting his head on your breasts. Your right hand made its way to his soft brown curls while your left rested on his upper back, hugging him close to your chest. His arms tightened around your waist and a pleased sigh left his lips, his lashes fluttering and tickling your skin as the tension rolled off of him in waves with every gentle pass of your manicured nails through his scalp.

Peter loved this position. There was really nothing sexual about it, he just loved hearing your heartbeat and feeling your colder skin against his naturally overheated one. He loved protecting the city and all of its inhabitants but here, in your arms, in this bed, he wasn’t Spider-Man, the newest Avenger. He wasn’t the Starks’ unofficially adopted kid that would take over SI alongside Morgan and Harley. He wasn’t the kid who brightened up everyone’s day and felt solely responsible for their happiness and well-being.

He was just Pete. Your Pete. Your fragile, vulnerable boyfriend who just really needed a hug, and you were more than happy to provide.

“How was your day?” He asked, voice slightly muffled because of his mouth’s position, buried in the valley of your breasts.

“Pretty good. I went to the mall with MJ after class and we bought a bunch of new clothes and art supplies for our trip to DisneyWorld.”

“Why do you need new stuff just to go to DisneyWorld?”

“I need Disney themed stuff.”

“You already have Disney themed stuff.”

“But I need new ones so that every time I see them they’ll remind me of our trip to DisneyWorld.”

He chuckled at your over-the-top-ness and nuzzled his face deeper into your chest.

“‘M hungry.”

“Must be cause you didn’t eat.”

“Did too!” He snorted at that.

“A Slurpee doesn’t count as food, princess.”

A silence enveloped the room and he felt your heartbeat quicken.

“I never told you I had a Slurpee.”

Oh shit.

“Y-Yeah, you did, you said you went to the mall with MJ to do some shopping and had a Slurpee after.” He was panicking but focused on playing it off as best as he could.

Spoiler Alert: he’s a very bad liar and can’t hide anything from you.

“No, I didn’t so how do you know that?”

He stuttered and incoherent sentence your way, trying and failing TRYING VERY HARD to defend himself.

“Have you been following me?”

Shitshitshit.

“N-No?” He hated that he couldn’t lie to you, one look at him and all his secrets would come out like some kind of verbal diarrhea.

You pushed him off your lap so the both of you were sitting up, looking at him with nothing short of hurt, confusion, and betrayal swirling in your beautiful sparkling eyes.

“Have you been taking advantage of EDITH and your powers to spy on me?”

He didn’t answer, simply hung his head, closed his eyes and waited for the blow-up that was bound to happen next... but it never came, only a broken whisper followed by a heart-breaking sob reached his ears.

“Do you not trust me?”

“What?” His head snapped up and he stared into your eyes, seeing the tears threatening to leak and cursing himself because he caused that, he caused his babygirl pain.

“W-Well if you're following me it must be because y-you don’t t-trust m-me.”

Your words were punctuated by a particularly loud sob and he quickly gathered you up in his arms, nuzzling his cheek on the top of your head soothingly and threading his fingers through your hair.

“Nonononononono, baby that’s not it, I promise.” He took your face between his hands and kissed your tear-stricken cheeks, resting his forehead on yours. “It’s just that... with everything that happened with Tony and Beck and my identity being revealed, then almost going to prison, thank God for Pepper, I just... I’m constantly worried that someone’ll come after you because of me, because of what you mean to me, and that I won’t be able to protect you and I just need to know you’re safe, always because you’re the most important person in my life and I don’t know what I’d without you, so I followed you and asked Karen to update me on your vitals every hour so I know you’re safe and alive, and real, and... I just need to know you’re safe.”

He took a deep breath after finishing his jumbled up explanation, finally shining light on the fears deeply installed within him for months.

“I can’t decide if that’s cute or something characteristic of a psychopath. Cause you wanna protect me but you do it by following me and invading my privacy.”

“Wha- psychopath?” You both burst into laughter, foreheads still resting against one another.

“Well, you’ve been following me around for a while. Do you have a camera in my bedroom?”

“No! Of course not! Just... in the lobby... and one facing your apartment door... and on your fire escape facing your window...”

His cheeks were flushed red and he was looking everywhere but at you, seemingly embarrassed by his predicament.

“You said you had Karen monitoring my vitals... how?”

“Oh, um... remember the bracelet I gave you for our six-month anniversary?”

You lifted your right wrist, cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘this one’.

“Yeah, so um... I actually made that. It’s got nanosensors that monitor your heartbeat, blood pressure, sugar levels, emotional state and a bunch of other things along with a tracker that’s constantly activated. It’s all connected to Karen, so she can let me know whenever you’re in trouble...”

“Is that how you always know when I’m having a panic attack or when I’m on my period?” Your eyes softened up and an adoring smile graced your face when he nodded.

“You’re a dork.” You straddled him fully and properly, then kissed him on the lips softly.”But you’re my dork, and I love you. And I love that you want to keep me safe and that you’d be willing to sacrifice your dignity and do something quite illegal to make sure I stay safe.”

He smirked at you.

“You know, out of context that sounds a bit twisted.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at him.

“What can I say? From time to time, I sure do love me a bad boy.”

He smiled and kissed you on the lips, slow and passionate, filled with all his love and adoration and relief, pure and utter relief because you’re here, with him, and you know, and you don’t hate him, in fact, you love him even more.

He fell back on the bed, taking you with him as you resumed your previous position, only this time with you on top.

“So are we gonna mention that when Tony did the exact same thing to you you threw a fit and had Ned hack into the suit?”

“Shut up.”

That night, when Peter got back home after dropping you off, EDITH alerted him to movement on your fire escape. His heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s as he pulled up the live footage but it all turned into a breathless chuckle when he saw the surveillance video.

You had put your whiteboard in such a way that it would be seen by the camera and scribbled a ‘Goodnight baby <3′ on it.

Baby🕷️ ❤️: goodnight princess <3

And this is what I do during my English and french classes... English because I don’t need to (perks of being trilingual) and french because the teacher spends the lesson talking about stuff I already know so I really don’t care.

With that said, please stay in school and listen to your teachers... do as I say, not as I do.

Anyway, I hope you liked this little one-shot. Please don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog if you feel like it!

Love you all, Libby <3

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

marked

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, violence.

word count: 10748

description: soulmate!au; just because you’re meant to be together doesn’t mean it always works out that way. what happens when you’re not completely ready to meet your soulmate?

prompt: “that’s not how soulmates are supposed to react to each other”

note: happy belated birthday love, i hope this year finds you well and i hope you don’t get too hungover (sorry this took so long)

for @jbbuckybarnes;; birthday challenge

You’ve had their tattoo your entire life. That’s what you called it too. Their tattoo. It didn’t feel like yours. The tiny brand of their fated love. Whoever they were, they were already a fully formed adult by the time you were born. The nurse who wiped the blood and mucus off of your little body gasping seeing the soft little bloom on your chubby arm.

You parents had been a little alarmed. The tattoos forming once the partner was eighteen years old, the age gap startling. But the fates were to be trusted. So life went on.

At first when you were a little girl, you’d loved the little string of flowers on your forearm. You’d colored it in with markers and outlined it every day, but you didn’t understand what it was then. They were called bleeding hearts. The strand of them across your entire forearm.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to get it until you were an adult.” Her name was Amy. You didn’t get along with Amy. “Does that mean that you’re going to be with an old person?” A cackle from her group of friends. You sunk lower into your desk, covering your arm with your hand and pulling it in tight to your body.

It became something they’d tease you about for years.

The bleeding hearts that your Mother had planted, you came to resent them. The ones painted onto your childhood bedroom’s walls you’d begged them to be covered up. You started using makeup to cover up the black outline of the offending flowers, trying to gain some kind of normalcy.

It’s funny how a couple of cruel kids can totally change your outlook on something that should be so simple, so easy.

But it made you think, what if he was an old man? By the time you were eighteen he would be almost forty. That is, if he was exactly eighteen when you were born. There were possibilities outside of the norm, like usually people would be wondering what their partner was doing right now. What did they want to do with their lives? This person, whoever they were, man or woman, must have been alarmed that their flower never showed up. Their right arm staunchly blank until you yourself turned eighteen.

You wondered that night, as your family celebrated your birthday, as you blew out your candles, if they were just as panicked as you were.

The doctors stalled. Their movements halted, and the asset didn’t know why. What were they doing? New procedure? They murmured to each other. Passing by closely, a nurse resumed strapping him down, his bones still chilled from cryostasis. “Soulmate.” He heard.

It scratched at him from the back of his mind, the word. He’d heard it before. He knew what it meant of course, soulmates. He’d separated one from another many times. Instructed to dispatch one and let the other live, it didn’t matter which one.

He did his job, quickly and efficiently. He had to.

A mouth guard placed between his teeth and his heart began to race in a Pavlovian response. Fingers clenching and unclenching with anticipation. His legs and arms being restrained before the metal plates would close over his face and the pain would begin.

“I have a new mission for you,” Alexander Pierce. The man who was in charge. His boss. His master. “It’s ongoing. Concurrent with any other missions I ask of you, do you understand?” He felt himself nod, mind still scrambled, dazed. “You see this?” His wrist was harshly turned over, the black lines swirling around it he’d never seen before. “If you ever see this on someone else, this exact tattoo, you bring them here. Do you understand?” The asset’s eyes glazed over, unfocused. Pierce smacked him upside his head, gripping his face tightly and pulling his gaze into his. “Do you understand soldier?”

“Yes, I understand.”

The sun rose and set with no event. You hadn’t found him. Years passed and your life went on. The apprehension and the fear of finding him out there somewhere would never leave. Your friends found their soulmates, they got married, some even had kids now. And you were still alone.

“You don’t want to meet him?” Your best friend, Nia asked. She wrapped a perfectly curled strand of hair around her finger, tightly pinning it with a clip and spraying it with hair spray. Her tattoo was of a set of constellations, it was on her collarbone. Her husband’s matching one was found in your first year of college. The two found each other in a chem lab and babbled to one another over renewable energy and found they both wanted to work for the same ecological lab that was currently designing a plastic made from trees, something they worked together to produce.

You watched her in the mirror curl your hair for another college friend’s wedding, the bride and groom having met each other in a perfect meet-cute, their dogs both racing towards each other in the middle of central park. Screaming and tripping and tumbling into one another and realizing they had the very same perfect little heart on their ring fingers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to meet him,” You explain, watching Nia’s perfectly manicured fingers twirl another perfect curl away from the iron, “I’m just apprehensive.” And that was the truth.

You wanted what all your friends had, really. It’s just what happened was you didn’t see an issue in having an older soulmate until your classmates pointed out it was weird to have an older soulmate and now that it was pointed out to you that it was weird to have an older soulmate now you think it’s weird to have an older soulmate.

But that’s hard to say to people.

“Everyone is nervous to meet their soulmate,” Nia soothed, “But that person is the other side of your coin, they’re someone who the fates have created specifically for you.” And that’s what is so scary. Someone is out there waiting for you and it gives you a shit ton of anxiety.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this Buck?” Steve stood in the doorway behind him, geared up, watching Bucky tighten the laces on his boots.

“Gotta get back into it sometime don’t I?” Bucky looked up at his long-time friend. Steve’s jaw was clenched, clearly on the fence about letting him back in the field.

“If you feel it at all going south, just let me know. We can get you out of there, and fast.” Bucky stood, clipping his holster on his back he said,

“I’ll be fine, let’s just go.”

The wedding was beautiful. In Central Park where they’d met. The early summer sun was warm, but not overbearingly so. It was a perfect day for a wedding and you were already a little drunk. They did this thing with champagne and chambord that was really quenching your thirst and for whatever reason your glass seemed to never be empty. It was easy to lose yourself in the happiness of the day, dancing, drinking, and eating your weight in hors d'oeuvres.

“Here, c’mon, let’s get a picture.” There was a large floral background weaved with beautiful blooms and greens. The group that were your best friends in college, the ones you smoked way too much weed with and drank yourself blind on twisted teas with, and the groom, whose bathtub you’d woken up in more than once, a group picture at his wedding that you were sure would start endless conversations about late night Taco Bell runs and do you remember this embarrassing thing you did this one time?

But you couldn’t quite remember what happened after that. It all happened so fast. Spillover from some Avengers fight nearby. There was an explosion, smoke, then triage.

You couldn’t breathe. The coughing was hard on your throat, gasping for breath. A clear plastic mask was fitted over your face, pure oxygen began pumping into the mask, you could feel yourself shuffled around, doors to an ambulance closing. Your blood was thin from the alcohol. You heard something about a transfusion and then it was dark.

Bucky’s heart was racing as he came out through the fog. It was just like when they would pull him out of cryo. Muddled and cold.

“Buck.” Steve’s voice called. “Can you hear me?” He couldn’t move his arms. He couldn’t move his legs. “Bucky?” It was a tiled ceiling. White. It hurt his eyes at first glance. He was at the compound.

He didn’t know how it went south so fast. The mission was going to be intense, he knew, but he didn’t realize the series of tunnels that twisted through the city would lead them to central park. Right into a trap. The explosion he remembers, resurfacing he remembers, what he doesn’t remember was what happened when he was trying to grab civilians out of the way. It all became a blur then.

“What happened back there?” Steve’s brow pulled in concern, he was changed, freshly washed and sitting in the chair next to the bed in the med room.

“I don’t know.” Arms flexing against the restraints, “Let me outta here.” A buzz and a chink sound and the metal restraints unlocked and retreated back into the frame of the bed. Bucky sat up and swung his legs over the side, eyes locking onto the bleeding hearts on his arm and halting, before hastily tugging his sleeve down to cover it.

“I think you need to talk to Shuri.” Steve stepped back and let Bucky stand, “There’s still something going on in there.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Have you ever had a trach? A large plastic tube down your throat, it helps you breathe but it’s uncomfortable, and startling when you wake up and you could feel it hard against your tongue and throat. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes from the harsh lights. A steady beep in the background as you reached consciousness and realized your surroundings.

“Hey sweetheart.” Your Mom, brushing hair out of your face and soothing your rising heart rate, “You’re okay, you’re okay. Let me get the nurse.”

Everyone for the most part was fine, the blast came from the ground, feet away from the reception. There were guests in critical condition in the ICU but no one had died. Bride and Groom were in the same condition as you were, bruised and with a broken bone or two but mostly fine.

A cast sat, freshly dried on your right arm, from wrist to elbow. Your soul mark covered by plaster. Your throat hurt after the trach was removed and you were left to recover in your childhood bedroom.

“It’s unbelievable.” Your Dad sat in his recliner, feet up, drinking what must have been his third cup of coffee that day. “Ross is a joke.” The news had been all about the Avengers and what happened in central park. Wedding guests who hadn’t been injured were interviewed, joggers, a family visiting from some other state with two small children. There was a replay of events, in between the rubble and smoke were the Avengers fighting a group with steel masks on, one with white scratching in the shape of a skull and ‘x’ scraped on the chest plate. They called him Crossbones. He was their leader. Supposedly.

“If he were to just let the Avengers do their job, these criminals wouldn’t be getting so close to the city.” A gruff response to the newscaster talking about what Secretary Ross had issued in a statement earlier.

“We are doing everything we can to find the perpetrators responsible for the Central Park bombing,” A simple, practiced response, “We will be working tirelessly until they are caught and brought to justice.” Your father scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“They’ll sit on their thumbs until the incident is forgotten and then maybe by then whatever group this is will have another bombing ready to go.” A knock on the door. Your Mother leaving the other side of the couch where she was listening, but not really while scrolling through her facebook page on her phone.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The pleasant chirp of her voice. You couldn’t hear what was on the other end but moments later she reappeared in the living room, two men in suits in tow. “Y/N, honey, these men work with the government, they just have a couple questions for you about the incident.”

The two men looked straight out of men in black, almost comically so. They said that they worked with the Avengers and it made your parents skeptical of them. Why would the Avengers send someone out to talk to you in the first place? You already had given your report to the police in the hospital. It didn’t make any sense.

But you answered their questions and about an hour later they were on their way out the door and you hoped they wouldn’t be back. Something just seemed off about them.

Life went on, as it does.

You were back at work, girls nights on Thursdays having margarita pitchers and tacos at Nia’s penthouse apartment, her and her husband had the good fortune of working for a leading ecological engineering company where they both worked side by side in a lab attempting to mass produce reusable and biodegradable alternatives to the current norm. Chinese takeout containers in your fridge and the same bag of salad you throw out and replace each week. Normal.

Except for one thing that made you feel a little crazy. You felt like you were being watched.

Something was wrong, Bucky knew that, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was itching at the back of his mind. Something he had forgotten. Something he couldn’t piece together. It was killing him.

He remembered everything from before. Every hit, every instruction, every time he was put in that chair and his brain was scrambled. Everything except one thing in particular.

Those bleeding hearts on his arm.

He knew that he didn’t have them during the war. It was a point of contention for him, never getting his soul mark, he was endlessly sensitive about it. Insecure. He wondered if maybe the fates hadn’t chosen one for him. Maybe he was a mistake, a flaw in the soulmate system. He didn’t have one. Which is why in that little apartment in Bucharest that he found himself staring at the thin and dark black lines on his right arm.

Was this always meant to happen? He wrought his brain in those early days, when did this happen. When did his soulmate become an adult? How long ago was it? How old are they now?

The apartment smelled like shit. Plumbing was out somewhere, the neighbors next door constantly screamed at each other, but it kept him hidden. It gave him time to think before he would let Steve find him.

But those flowers.

He couldn’t remember. It was gone.

“It would have interfered with their plans,” Shuri explained, “If you had a soulmate that person might have been overwhelming enough to you to deter your mission.” The lab had been updated since he’d last been here. New gadgets and equipment scattered about in an organized but cluttered way.

Shuri was always working on something new and she frequently called him down to work on his arm. Something to give it more feeling, now he couldn’t just feel pressure and temperature, he had actual nerve endings. “They’ll immediately close at the hub if something were to happen, though I don’t imagine you being able to destroy this arm easily.” The dark vibranium and gold.

Bucky nods in agreement, “That makes sense.” She gives him an odd look.

“We could go deeper,” She continues, “They’ve probably buried it deep into your psyche.” It wasn’t a painful process, but it was uncomfortable. Bucky trusted Shuri and he wanted to know. He had to know.

This person, whoever they were, was made for him. He knew that he wasn’t ready for them, for that relationship, but he could at least figure out when the flowers bloomed on his arm and put a timeline together. That’s what he needed.

It was like falling asleep in the bath.

Warm and comfortable, a little foggy. Sleep sets on and you find yourself sinking, slipping further into the heat. Then the inhale of water, burning against your lungs and you’re leaning over the side, fully awake and coughing liquid.

Then again,

And again.

Until it’s clear.

He needed to stay far away from you, whoever you were.

If there was one thing you loved about taking the NYC subway it was people-watching. Not able to happen when it was rush hour and you’d be shoved between an overweight man with a staring problem and an older woman who refused to sit because it was sexist, but on your way home after a late shift. When you had your seat and there were only ten other people in the car with you.

This observance showed you an old man headed home with a cloth tote of groceries. You assumed he was a professor because who else wears tweed on top of a vest and tie. The leather attache case also seemed very professor-like.

There was a group of kids, probably fresh out of high school, laughing loudly and joking around at the front of the car. One of them recording the other three on their phone, a short clipped tune playing on the phone. Probably something for TikTok.

There was a couple and both had a bike with them. The girl was in loose cotton overalls and had lavender hair. The guy’s hair was long, reaching just below his shoulders, heavily tattooed, and thin. He had tapered cuffed jeans and a floral button down on. They would kiss every couple minutes in between talking softly.

The weirdest group were the three men at the end of the subway car. They gave you a weird vibe, but being around seven other people made you feel a little more safe.

They weren’t talking to each other, looking at their phones, but something made you feel like they were watching you when you weren’t looking. You just hoped they weren’t getting off at your stop.

“This paranoia,” your therapist explained, “Is most likely rooted in the incident. You were comfortable and your guard was down.” And then the attack. “It’s perfectly normal to be experiencing some PTSD after being through a traumatic event.”

But it felt so superficial. Other people have had worse situations. No one was hurt that badly. Yes, your cast itches like hell, but you didn’t have to live through the blip. You were one of the ones who blipped, so it was like it never even happened.

You had two parents who really loved you and supported your decisions. They didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to and they always were there if you needed help.

You had a good group of friends who were reliable and got together once a week like adults do. You had a nice studio apartment not too far away from the good part of town and a job that you excelled at.

There were people who had a bad day, every day. And you had a truly bad day once and now you were this paranoid mess that always felt like the other shoe was about to drop.

“Your worst day is your worst day,” is what she said, “Don’t compare yourself to others, their trauma does not discount your trauma.”

But it still didn’t feel right.

You were regretting bringing your tumbler out to work. Always at the end of the night, full of water or tea, and not wanting to carry it anymore you dumped it out on the street. Another block and you’ll be home. Only one of the men got off at your stop. Tumbler stored in your backpack you white knuckle your keys in your fist. He was headed in the same direction.

It became kind of like tunnel vision. The only thing you could hear is his footsteps. Hard, clacking against the pavement and also the side of your skull. Your heart was racing and you could feel a cold sweat break out on your forehead and the nape of your neck. Your hands are shaking.

The steps to your building have never felt more comforting, but the final slam of the passcode protected door was definitely a little more comforting. The shadow of the man continued to walk by. No glance in your direction.

And you felt foolish.

You were just paranoid, you were sure of it.

“So I was thinking,” Nia took a sip of her margarita, the table full with nachos, guac and chips, and various small street-style tacos. It was a local spot not too far from your apartment, a basement restaurant that was the friend group favorite since freshman year of college when you’d sneak in with fake IDs. “Maybe we upload your soulmark to one of those search sites.”

You roll your eyes, licking the salt of the rim of the glass before taking a long pull of your drink. “I don’t think that’s for me,” You shrug, leaning back in your chair, “I just want to let it happen, it’ll happen eventually.” It’s not that you had anything against those sites. They really helped people and it’s completely possible that it’s how the fates planned for them to meet, but seeing as you were fine as you were at the moment, you didn’t really want anything to help you speed up the process.

Nia sighs, but relents, “So are you going to come to Gin’s gallery opening?”

“What do you have on Rumlow?” Bucky just freshly back from Wakanda greeted Steve.

“How was it?” Bucky shook his head, changing the subject, “Do we have anything on him? His location? Anything?” Steve looked at his friend, understanding, but not wanting to drop the subject.

“We’ve got a couple leads to flush out, but honestly Buck, are you okay?” There was a dark look in his eyes, the look he had often had when he was fresh from the ice and going through Shuri’s process for the first time. The memories he’d face everyday.

“I’ll be fine.” And that was that. Not further questions. He didn’t want to be asked and Steve knew he would come around eventually.

He told himself he was fine, because he was, mostly. This fence he straddled of wanting his soulmate and the before final resignation that he didn’t have one, he was finally on a third side. He couldn’t find them.

Not if he didn’t want to hurt them.

The fog cleared.

He remembered bursting from the ground, flung recklessly by the bomb, landing on his feet. Crouched. Knees shocked in protest, from catching his body weight. He remembers instinctively, standing, making one pass and realizing there was a large group of people in the smoke. He got to work, pulling people out, getting them out of the way before going back in.

Then there it was. As clear as day, he could see it. The bleeding hearts. And then he didn’t have control over his body anymore.

He snapped your arm.

He was ripped away by someone on Rumlow’s team. But he snapped your arm. His eyes focused on your unconscious body as he felt himself fighting others. He didn’t mean to break your arm.

He didn’t mean to.

But he did. And it sat in his gut. Toxic and acidic, rolling and cresting up his throat until he was spitting up bile. Laying over his toilet, gagging and unable to vomit.

He had to stay away. There was no other option.

“They wanted you to bring her back to them?” Shuri asked.

“But they don’t exist anymore.” Bucky offered. Shuri nods, scrolling through the datapad.

“I can take the mission objective from you,” She explains, “But you’re going to have to deal with these negative feelings with your therapist.” The fear. The anxiety. The longing.

“It’s a string.” He remembers his grade school teacher explaining. “A string that’s loose at first, but the tension pulls you closer and closer together until you meet.” A string that bonds, wraps itself around you and fuses you together.

Shuri continues, “You’ll see her again.” It’s a certainty. “Hopefully by then we will have this taken care of.” The trains moving the vibranium, Bucky watched them, disassociating. It was so relaxing seeing them pass on a schedule, quickly and efficiently. Always on time. “You deserve to be happy, James.” That brought his eyes to hers, still unfocused and wanting to leave. “You deserve to be with her.” But he wasn’t so sure.

“Let’s go.” Steve’s voice was soothing, familiar when he feels like he’s drowning. It always brings him out. It pulls him back to the surface.

He’s in the jet. The jet just landed. Another base. Another search for information. Far away from New York. Far away from you.

“All these bases look the same.” Sam sounds annoyed, the concrete structure buried halfway into the ground. Old Hydra bases that Rumlow knew. The ones that Bucky also knew. The ones that Rumlow knows that Bucky knows. Breadcrumbs found in the forest leading them into the evil old woman’s oven.

It was abandoned and recently so if the empty rotting food containers and spoiled milk in the fridge was anything to go by. Robbed of the guns and ammo, the last few bombs left over from the old regime kept under lock and key behind steel doors.

“Where do you think they’re going next?” It was no secret that Rumlow hates Steve, Bucky, and Sam. Sam is the reason his face is burnt to shit. Bucky was the golden boy of Hydra and Steve… Steve was one of the big three. Steve’s face was plastered on billboards and they sold action figures of his likeness. Rumlow was the jealous type. Always.

If Rumlow had been chosen to be a Winter Soldier he would have taken it with pride. He wouldn’t have suffered or had to have been scrambled like Bucky. And as far as Bucky was concerned Rumlow could have taken it. But it wasn’t that easy. And Rumlow had been 60 years too late.

“Onto the next one?”

You could swear that was the same guy from the other night. Maybe. Possibly. Were you crazy? Your leg shaking with anxiety, bouncing to try to release any kind of energy building. The paranoia. The fear. He rode this train the other night. The guy who gets off on your same stop. But maybe that’s just his stop. Maybe he lives on your block. Maybe you really are crazy.

You were trying to look preoccupied with your phone, but from the corner of your eye you could see him. Black t-shirt and jeans. Hands held placid in his lap, staring out the window. Not much to look at when you’re underground, but if you looked up you can see your own reflection in that window.

Trust your gut.

That’s what all of those true crime shows and podcasts have told you. Trust your gut. And something was wrong with this guy.

Your cast itched like hell.

In your phone you created a note. What color were his eyes? How tall was he? What was his build? Any distinguishing features? Scars? Tattoos? Did he have a visible soulmark?

Your stop came. And as expected he also got off.

The pounding of your heart matched the dual footsteps. A thump in your ears as you listened to the blood rush through them. Above ground you quickly dialed someone you hoped would answer.

It rang once, twice, three times.

Four and five.

He seemed close. Like he knew you were onto him. Like he knew that you knew his intentions were sinister.

Six and Seven.

Keys fisted in your opposite hand you prayed under your breath that Nia would wake up. Fucking Christ Nia answer.

Eight and Nine.

A chill down your spine, a harsh grip against your cast, arm yanked out of socket. The man pulled relentlessly, other hand coming to grip your neck. Your fisted keys meeting his cheek and eye socket. A scream. Phone dropped. A sore, broken and still healing arm, bruised and blue, now in the open air. A fist meeting your face and your back hitting the brick wall of the building behind you.

Directed to voicemail.

“Is it bad?” Natasha sniffed the cup in front of him before taking a sip, “Tastes fine to me.” The coffee he didn’t realize he’d been glaring at. Too caught up in thinking about the flowers on his arm. The ones revealed by his rolled up sleeve.

“The coffee’s fine.” Bucky sighs, yanking down his sleeve, looking up at Natasha’s prying eyes. A beat of silence. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not.” She protests, grabbing his arm and yanking the sleeve back up, “What’s going on?” Bucky shakes his head, picking up his mug and creating a distance, tugging the sleeve back down over the offending ink. “You haven’t been yourself since Central Park.”

“I haven’t been myself since I enlisted in the military.” Not untrue.

“You know what I mean,” Nat leaned against the counter, peering at him, a calculating look in her eyes. “Did you see them?” The way his back tensed she knew she was right, brow pulling together tight. “Bucky-”

“Drop it.” He could hear disappointment in her voice,

“You not talking to them isn’t going to make it hurt any less.” He knows. He knows. But it would hurt you less. So that’s what he’s going to do.

“You have to learn to trust yourself,” His therapist said, “You have to trust that you’re a good person and that you weren’t in control, you wouldn’t have done these things normally, would you?” Well no, but he still did those things. The guilt will never go away. He just has to learn how to come to terms with it.

It’s a process.

But he needed to keep you from him.

It’s not that he believed he would break your arm again or worse, but maybe. It’s a possibility and it gave him enough anxiety that he isn't sleeping well anymore. Those blissful eight hours dwindled to six hours full of tossing and turning. Being too hot and then too cold. Nothing was helping, jogs, hot baths, cold showers, time spent with a punching bag, reading, meditation. He wondered why Pierce never removed the skin on his arm.

If he didn’t want him to have anything to do with his soulmate that is.

“They could have used them to control you.” Shuri had speculated, “Make you more compliant.” Makes sense.

But he could have just brought you back and then what? They use you to torture him. Give you to him as a reward? Let you play house for doing a good job?

He shudders with the thought.

His room was a nice reprieve from the questioning. From Nat, Steve, and even Sam had started to ask about his more than chilled demeanor recently. But he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to focus on. He didn’t know what he wanted.

But it seemed like someone was going to choose for him.

You hated hospitals. The smell, the noise, the way the sheets felt against your skin. The only good thing about it was the socks, for whatever reason they are the thinnest yet warmest socks ever created. Wild.

“We think you should move home,” Your Mother was pacing, “We never liked you moving into the city in the first place.” You knew this.

When you were freshly graduated from high school and told your parents that you wanted to move to New York it was definitely a hard subject for a while, but you’d been living in the city for a while now and truth be told this was only the third time something bad has happened to you since moving here from North Jersey.

The first one was years ago when you were still in college and to be fair, it was a bad part of town, it was very late at night, and you and your friends were as naive as you were young. The guy didn’t make off with too much money anyway since all of you were broke, but regardless, still a shitty situation.

The last two were just this past week, the wedding, and now the guy who took your wallet and ripped the cast with unbelievable force from your arm. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Your arm had been pulled out of socket as well, so now you were in a fresh cast and a sling.

“The city is getting worse,” Your Father agrees, “I don’t know if I can honestly take another call telling me you’re in the hospital.” You could agree with them.

When you were younger and the Avengers first became a thing it was a steady increase in crime. Then Daredevil and Spider-Man didn’t help. Every criminal in New York wanted to test their chops against the big guys. King Pin became a thing and a bunch of superpowered criminals became rampant, kept only in check by the constant monitoring of heroes on the streets.

But it wasn’t always like that, 99% of the time it was just another normal day. The problem is your parents loved watching the news, and everything on the news was bad. They didn’t see the good things about the city, they didn’t see the good people in the city. Like the older man in your building who you could call at any time with a plumbing issue and he’d be right over to fix it, the housing office will get back to you anywhere between 7-30 days. There’s another woman with a large family who, even when they’re not there, cooks enough to feed an army and is more than happy to deliver leftovers to your door.

You’ve never felt more like yourself before moving to the city, there was no doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t be moving out of New York any time soon.

“It’s just bad luck,” You sigh, closing your eyes against the harsh fluorescent light, “I’ll be fine really, I told you that you didn’t even have to come up here.”

A knock at the door, your nurse. She walked in and placed the little paper cup with two pills on the tray next to the bed.

“These are for pain, you have some other visitors,” Other visitors? “Are you okay to be questioned?” You’d already given your statement to the police.

“Questioned by who?” The nurse looks over to your parents apologetically.

“It would probably be best if they questioned her alone.” Begrudgingly your parents left the room, two Avengers taking their place.

“So one of Rumlow’s goonies attacked this girl?” Sam looked down at the file in his hands. The car scenery changes from the woods and forest of upstate into the skyscrapers and metal of the city. Bucky’s stomach was churning, but he faced the window and didn’t speak.

“She was also one of the vics at Central Park.” Steve directed the car down the exit ramp, into the heart of the city. Bucky felt like he was going to vomit.

It’s her.

“So dude gets a good look at her, thinks she’s pretty, follows her for days afterward?” Sam speculates. Bucky’s neck feels hot.

This whole car feels hot. He cracks his window.

“I’m gonna wait here.” Steve and Sam look at him in the rearview, Sam even turning in his seat as Steve navigated a spot in the parking garage. “What?”

“Everytime there’s something Hydra we can’t pull your nose out of it,” Sam began, “But all the sudden, ‘I’ll wait in the car?’”

“Are you good, Buck?” Steve’s voice with more concern, killing the engine.

“No.” He grumbles, “I’m not.” He couldn’t go in there. He just couldn’t.

“If it’s okay,” Steve began, “We would just like to ask you a few questions about the man who attacked you.” It must have been a big deal, the guy who followed you. Why would two Avengers be in your hospital room if it wasn’t.

“Of course.” The chill of the hospital room was slowly warming, a nervousness was growing. Who was this guy? And why did he attack you?

“When did you first notice he was following you?” The Falcon, he stood further back, almost against the wall. His arms crossed and legs in a wide stance. Captain America was in a much more comforting position, sitting in the chair next to your bed, leaned forward, hands clasped and elbows on his knees.

“Uhm, well… I was in the hospital for a day or two after the attack.” You shift in bed, suddenly wildly uncomfortable, “I was on the subway, headed home, and he was with two other men.”

“Did they also follow you off the train?” You shake your head,

“No the first night I saw them, they seemed to know each other, but they stayed on their phones most of the time. The man who attacked me was the only one who left at my stop.” The two men had been on the subway sporadically, not always with him. But more often than not.

Whoever they were, they must have thought you were dumb enough not to notice. But you were also dumb enough to think your paranoia wasn’t real. Maybe you should be going to therapy once a week instead of twice a month. Maybe then you would have learned the difference between markers of past trauma and an actual gut feeling of danger.

“What did he look like?”

Bucky’s leg anxiously bounced in the backseat. His fingernails were no longer interesting and his phone, no matter how often he checked his apps, gave him no solace.

“Maybe just a peek.” He reasoned, leg halting its movements and he looked out the window of the car to the door, entry to the hospital. You were so close, his heart was pounding. He steps from the car, but pauses at the glass sliding doors long enough for them to automatically close again before finally venturing inside.

Bucky hated hospitals. The smell reminded him of the lab. How sterile it was. How cold. It made him wildly uncomfortable.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. The arm. The one he knew that your tattoo resided because that’s where his was, covered in a cast and a sling. There was bruising down the same side, starting under your right eye and trailing down and disappearing into your hospital gown, before reappearing on the small sliver of skin between your sleeve and the top of the sling.

This was his fault and he knew it.

But he’ll handle it.

He’ll make sure that Rumlow and his thugs were safely behind bars on the Raft. Either that, or buried in a shallow grave somewhere in Siberia.

“She might have seen something.” Steve slammed the car door and Bucky pretended to be preoccupied with his phone.

“We’ll have to tail her for a while,” The engine starting, Sam continues, “He’ll come back.” Bucky’s jaw clenched.

He wouldn’t give him the chance.

The paranoia. The fear. It was palpable. You constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d bought another deadbolt for your door. Checking the windows twice before bed. You bought blackout curtains. As soon as the sun set. Windows checked, curtains pulled. Deadbolts are always locked.

You didn’t leave unless you had to. The two Avengers didn’t comfort you, why was this guy after you?

“We’ll do everything we can to find him,” The Captain, just like the words of Ross, aimed to soothe but it really showed you that they had no idea either.

“Maybe you should take a break,” That’s what your therapist said, “Go stay with your parents for a little bit.” But you couldn’t. Because it felt like he was winning. And you were far too stubborn for that.

You started carrying a knife.

It bounced against your hip as you walked, to and from work. The heavy metal you’d run your fingers across if you felt too anxious to continue. The routine helped. It helped the stress, the depression, the anxiety. You found yourself missing the comfort of the tattoo.

It gave that to you.

You never noticed it before now. When by force you can’t actually see it, now you wanted to see it more than anything, but your arm was encased in an inch of plaster and was still terribly sore. It was a comfort to know that there was someone out there that would have been able to help you through this. But you didn’t know who they were, or where they were. And it didn’t matter anyway.

What good would you be if you couldn’t help yourself?

“Have you felt an increase in thoughts of this nature?” Your therapist was a nice woman who wore her hair messily piled on top of her head. Gray streaks throughout and proud of them, always in all black and always had a fresh iced coffee whenever you met with her. You’d been seeing her for years.

Insecurity about one's soulmate often led a person to seek help, the strange self-loathing and anxiety that grew as a teenager was what gave you a final push in college when you turned to abusing adderall in order to tackle your busy schedule and just keep you from thinking all together.

“Just since the assault.” And that was true. You’d been so good for such a long time.

“Progress isn’t linear.” She always tells you. And you’ll try not to criticize yourself even further for falling behind. Or what you think is falling behind.

You try to hold those ideas close. Because your soulmate isn’t who is going to help you get past this. You are.

It didn’t take long. Not for the Winter Soldier. And definitely not for a man who was personally wronged by a sloppy thug who left tracks like mud on white linoleum.

It was his soulmate they were after. The tug on his heart strings as he remembered the way you face looked, eye socket swollen and black because of this asshole’s fist. The anger that bubbled and rolled, acidic and hot in his gut.

It took him less than 36 hours to find the guy.

“What does Rumlow know?” Fuck all if Brock thinks Bucky Barnes was going to call him Crossbones. The man’s eyes were rolling, head lolling, drool coming from the corner of his mouth, strapped to a medical table that Bucky could still feel against his back. He sighed in frustration. Maybe he hit the guy a little too hard. That’s fine. They had time.

This place gave him the creeps. The facility that he’d searched with Steve and Sam just a day or two ago. It was eerie seeing it empty. The way he remembered it, back in the 90s when he was here, right before Howard and Maria, it was booming with personnel. Men and women devoted to ‘the cause.’ Hydra’s better tomorrow.

The better tomorrow that he helped shape.

Natasha set the bomb off. He was cleaning up the rubble.

“What does Rumlow know?” The man’s eyes met his, fearful, a hard swallow. Tongue seeking out the tooth that Bucky already ripped out. The cyanide. Another hard swallow, his fate resigned. Bucky leaned forward, the metal chair rusted and screaming in protest. “What?” Bucky couldn’t help but bite, “You had no problem beating a woman on the street.” And now the coward wanted to be afraid. “Start talking.” The tools Bucky kept on him lay out on the medical cart. Pliers and a couple different knives. A pick he used to unlock doors. Mostly for show.

Mostly.

Fingernails were the worst. That’s what Bucky started with, but the guy was more of a coward than he thought. He got two fingers in before squealing,

“He just wanted a picture of the tattoo.” Fat blubbering tears. Snot across his nose. “He wanted to see her soulmark.”

“Well?” Bucky pressed on the raw flesh, hard. “Did he see it?” If Rumlow saw the tattoo, if he had a picture, and he knew where you lived, he had to move fast. The man squirmed, crying, “Did he?” Bucky yelled.

“Yes.”

You wondered how these kids got so talented. Truly. A ten-year-old who tells Gordon Ramsay that he’s making a Bearnaise sauce. Like what even is a Bearnaise sauce?

From the comfort of your home, a blissful day off, you’d gotten a lot done. Probably one of the most productive days you had in a long time and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that cleaning your entire apartment ceiling to floor and listening to an audio book completely cleared your mind. It gave the sinking feeling in your gut that you couldn’t shake a twelve hour break as well.

This ramen that took three minutes to make from a plastic bag looked paltry in comparison to ten-year-old Grace’s filet mignon that she was presenting to the judges, artfully drizzled with her Bearnaise sauce, but it was the best you could do planning to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

The broth was hot, spilling on your pants as a series of hard knocks met the wood of your front door. Anxiety spiking. Stepping from the couch, you backed away from the door. Setting the bowl on your counter,you backed yourself down the hallway, towards your bedroom where you knew your phone was charging on your night stand.

The person stopped knocking, voice coming muffled through the door. “Y/N, this is James Barnes.” The Avenger? Your steps halting, you stood in the doorway of your room, straight ahead was your front door. “I have reason to believe you’re in danger.” There was an internal struggle. Was this guy telling the truth? Do you go look out the peephole? You weren’t even sure you knew what this guy looked like to know if it was him or not. What if this was a trick? What if the man who assaulted you was on the other side of that door?

Heart racing you took a step forward, heading to the door to look through the peephole when you were yanked back hard enough to hurt your neck. A scream leaping from your throat as a hand covered your mouth, a strong arm pinning your arms down and keeping you from lashing out.

“I’ve got you,” A whisper, “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” You could feel your body trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “That’s not James Barnes.” There was a slight breeze from where your bedroom window was open. “I’m gonna let you go, but you’ve got to listen and trust me to get you out of here. Can you do that?” His body was hot against your back, the hand over your mouth cold and metallic. James Barnes had a metal arm, didn’t he? You could feel yourself nod, the man releasing you slowly and letting you take a step away before turning back to face him.

His hair was short, ruffled, with a thick scruff on his face. And the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

“Let’s go.” The banging on the door resumed, but this time, the hinges were bending, metal warping with each hit. The man you were supposed to trust jumped onto the windowsill and held out his hand to you, “We don’t have a lot of time.” Your eyes flit between the front door, now splintering, and the open metal palm of the man who broke into your apartment. Adrenaline rising you made a split second decision, the door falling off its hinges you let the man pull you out of your apartment and down the fire escape.

It was close, almost too close.

Apartment window locks, the old ones anyway, were an easy lift and pop out of place. The banging on your front door gave him cause for alarm, but you’d already been making your way back to him. Steve had a lot of questions, but was enroute nonetheless. All he had to do was get you as far away from Rumlow as possible.

“They’re on their way to take care of the guys breaking down your door,” He explained, trying not to think about how soft your hand was in his. “Steve, Sam, and a couple other agents.”

Your eyes were shifty, he knew you didn’t trust him, at least not all the way.

“Are you okay?” The swelling was gone from your eye but it was still a violent shade of blue and for a second Bucky thinks he went easy on the thug before turning him over.

You’re three blocks away, the late night traffic and noise was a little disorienting. A car was in front of you backed into an alley, blacked out windows, the Avengers insignia in gray paint on the side. Maybe this guy was the real deal.

“I’m fine.” Truth was you were terrified, your feet were cold and you were surprised you didn’t step in glass with how fast he’d dragged you three blocks without shoes on. He gave you an odd look before opening the passenger door and gesturing for you to get inside. There was hesitation. His eyes locked with yours, seeming to debate something before taking a step closer to you.

You stepped back.

“I need you to come with me.” His voice was soothing, reassuring, but you still couldn’t quite be bought.

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of situation you got me out of back there, but this is all a little too strange for me,” There were police sirens, flashing lights sped down the street behind you, towards your apartment. You look back at the man in front of you, arms wrapped around yourself and toes now going numb. “I just don’t know exactly who I can trust right now.”

The metal digits moved to his sleeve, tugging the fabric upward, his pale skin a stark contrast against he black ink of bleeding hearts.

His bleeding hearts.

Your bleeding hearts.

“Trust me,” he says, voice desperate, “Please.” And in an instant, you did.

It made sense.

It made complete sense.

He was over eighteen when you were born, because he was born a century ago.

There was silence in the car as you left the city. Both unable to speak. Where did you go from here? You weren’t ready for this. You don’t know if you could do this. Your hands were shaking, your shoulder was aching and you suddenly felt wildly uncomfortable.

There’s an expectation with soulmates. Is it what he expected of you? Like was this you jumping into the deep end of dating and meeting families and getting married and spending every waking minute sappy and in love?

You weren’t ready.

You couldn’t do this.

You were safe. That’s all that matters. Bucky’s hand hurt from gripping the wheel so tight. His heart was racing now that you were so close. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do here. Does he start a conversation? Does he tell you about what just happened? No. He doesn’t want to scare you more than you probably already are. Rumlow is a conversation for later. When there can be a rational conversation outside adrenaline and fear.

But where do you go from here? Bucky didn’t know. Should he be asking you on a date? Are you going to ask him on a date? His anxiety spiked thinking about it. He just started doing well enough in therapy to go back on field missions, he didn’t know if he was ready to take on a committed relationship. The rolling feeling in his gut was back.

“Here,” The compound was sleek and minimalist, “If you want to rest until the rest of the team gets back, it might be a while after interrogation and processing.” A room for you to sleep in, the sun already sunk below the horizon well before you were pulled hastily from your apartment, the fatigue finally settling in.

“Uhm, thank you,” You didn’t know what to say, but it seems like he didn’t know either.

“I’ll uh…” He took a step back, “I’ll come get you in the morning.” Okay, okay. “If you want to take a shower, it’s right through there. And there’s spare clothes in the drawers.” Avengers sweats and hoodies. Nondescript undergarments.

The bottom of the shower, arm hanging out the side. You didn’t know how long you sat there, the water never went cold. But by the time you were done and you slipped under the covers the rest of the world just seemed to disappear.

“She’s your soulmate?” Steve looked at his friend incredulously. “Bucky why didn’t you say anything before?” He was stubborn, and he didn’t know what to do at the time.

“I don’t know.” Steve was annoyed. Hands on his hips, wide captain stance, authoritative voice annoyed. Disappointed dad annoyed.

“We would have had a strict detail on her,” He paced, “We could have brought her here for christ’s sake.” But Bucky didn’t want that. He wasn’t ready for this.

“She didn’t seem really interested in it Steve,” he shrugs, “And neither am I.” Sam scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“You don’t want to be with her?” A strange look, “She’s literally made for you, and you for her, and you don’t want to be with her?” Sam’s eyebrows pulled tight in confusion.

“That’s not how soulmates are supposed to react to each other.” Steve adds. Both men didn’t understand. When they found their soulmates everything seemed to click into place. They weren’t as damaged, they weren’t as scarred. They wouldn’t understand.

“I’m not ready.” Bucky’s chest felt tight. “I’m just not ready. Not yet.”

You never had to see him. This Rumlow person. Crossbones. The next morning, when you woke up, James Barnes was waiting for you at the door.

“Are you hungry?” He seemed nervous, but so were you. He leads you out into the main common room. A plate of food covered in a metal lid, eggs, bacon, toast. A plate set aside for you from their early breakfast, he explained that most of them wake up for early morning training. Paperwork for the incident yesterday. It was quiet. Awkwardly so. But you didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like neither did he.

He busied himself making a cup of coffee and you watched him move. The ease in which he moved about this kitchen in where you imagined he made his meals, where he bonded with those other Avengers. Celebrities. It seemed surreal almost. Domestic. It’s why in all of those magazines they take candids of celebrities going to the grocery store, coming from the gym, faces clean of makeup.

They buy food. They work out. They have wrinkles and acne. Just like us.

They make coffee. They have awkward conversations. They don’t know what to do. Just like us.

It’s why your Mom loved watching reality tv shows. Not because she liked the people on them, but because sometimes it was interesting to see how the 1% lived. What they worried about. What their worldview was. How black and white they saw things.

You briefly wonder what an Avengers reality show would be like.

This was your soulmate.

The person created for you. And he drinks his coffee black. He had dark circles under his eyes. His arm was black, gold detailing, shaped just like his flesh arm. You were trying to remember the guy from the history books, what he looked like, but fifth grade was so long ago and you were more worried about growing out the bangs you’d cut at home in your bathroom.

It was hard to believe.

But it was real.

And right on his arm as he turned to join you at the kitchen bartop. You felt your back straighten, your fork continuing its path, pushing eggs from one side to the other. What do you do now? Say something? Anything? You couldn’t tell if he didn’t want this as much as you or if that’s just how he was. Silent, standoffish, the gears in his head turning and turning with thought. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the movement of your fork. Seemingly snapping out of it when you lay your fork to the side, his eyes met yours, a forced smile.

This isn’t what you expected, but the bubbling in your guy was going to spill from your lips before you could possibly help it,

“We don’t have to do this.” Whatever this was.

You’ve seen soulmates meet and you’re sure he’s seen soulmates meet in his lifetime. It wasn’t uncommon. Passing on the street, they see the soulmark, tears, hugging, maybe even a kiss if the pair was passionate enough. At your place of work it happened once with a new hire. It happens, constantly, around you. But this wasn’t like that at all.

He lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” Your heart clenches, a feeling of rejection, smothered down, swallowed with a sip of orange juice.

“Wow.” His mouth opens and closes,

“I didn’t mean it like that,” shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair, “I’m just not ready for this.” An understanding,

“Me either.” You both mirrored each other, relaxing against the chair back. You stare at one another for a minute, the silence comfortable for the first time. There was a simmer of rejection in the acid of your stomach, like maybe if he’d just been into it. If he wanted to be together now and do those things together now, you’d push aside your fears and leap into it.

But this was being an adult? Making the choice that you need to make and not the choice that you want.

There was that feeling there, you wanted to ask him questions. You wanted to know everything, this curiosity nagging at your brain. But this was good enough for now.

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” He asked. You let out a heavy sigh, realizing you wouldn’t be able to go back to your apartment for a bit. The door was bashed in “...and the fight was in your living room.” So the entire front of the apartment was mostly destroyed. “You won’t be able to go back there for a while.” You mourn the $300 you’d just spend finishing the living and dining area. “I mean, I’m not going to kick you out.” He continued, “But I’m not sure you really want to stay here.”

“I don’t.” He watches you rub your eyes and lean over, elbows on the table. “I can go stay with my parents for a little while.”

He didn’t think about how you would have living parents. His were long gone, buried in a cemetery behind the church they’d gone to their entire lives. It gave him pause,

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“It is.”

There was silence for a moment more, Bucky debating something before beginning, “I uh… just got cleared for field work, I still have some stuff I need to work through before I can be in this relationship.” Shifting awkwardly, “Fully.”

He watched your eyes widen a fraction, before releasing a sigh, “I understand that,” You lean towards him, “It’s weird cause my whole life I thought you were gonna be some guy old enough to be my father.”

“Technically I’m old enough to be your great-grandfather.” A laugh, the tension vaporized from the air.

“I wish I paid more attention in social studies,” You shake your head, “After central park,” A swallow, “I started to have nightmares and I felt so paranoid, and then that guy attacked me on the street, and now…”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” His eyes soft, fists clenched under the bar top, “That’s my fault.”

“I know they were after you,” you could see it across his forehead, the way his shoulders were tense, the guilt, “but it’s not your fault they attacked me, and central park was just a coincidence.”

“I know.” He knows. “But I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.” You paused, not knowing to say, but it makes sense. His line of work was dangerous, and it means that you might be put into danger every once in a while.

“We will just have to find new ways to cope then.” You could see the appeal, the way his eyes were looking down at the bartop, then snapped up to yours. It felt like the breath was knocked from your lungs. Is this what it feels like?

If he had asked you in that moment to stay, you would have, without hesitation.

“If you need anything,” You couldn’t see his eyes properly in the dark of the car parked outside of your parent’s house, “Just call, and if I don’t answer send me a text.”

“Okay,” you look down at your hands in your lap, then over at the front door, the porch light on and you could see the TV through the window, your parents probably watching Brooklyn-99 reruns and trying to stay awake until you arrive.

“Hey,” His hand slipped into yours, pulling your eyes back to his, “You can stay at the compound if it would make you feel more safe.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He’d taken you back to your apartment, behind the caution tape and helped you pack a suitcase before driving an hour outside of the city, well into New Jersey. Your belly fluttered as he pulled the suitcase from the trunk, carrying it to the front door where the two of you now stood under the porch light.

“Just check for me,” He said, “You’ve got my number and Steve’s.” You did. “You’ve got the number for the compound direct office.” You did. “Okay, okay.” A pause, “Let me just give you Nat and Sam’s numbers too, and Shuri’s.” You huff a sigh as the phone is taken from your hand, numbers quickly punched in.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He looked at you from beneath his lashes, thumbs quickly entering the last few digits.

“If anything suspicious happens, and I mean a neighbor takes their dog on a different route, someone passes the house one time too many…”

“I’m gonna be okay Bucky.” Your heart warmed with the concern, but you were also comforted by the fact that you’d agreed to take this slow.

“This is more for me than you, more for my peace of mind.” You could understand. He let out a deep breath, eyes meeting yours while he handed the phone back. There was a beat of silence, a creeping tension creeping up your spine, something pooled in your lower belly. Not awkward, not awkward at all. Something else. You took a step closer to him,

“Can I just do one thing before you go?” Bucky’s tongue peaked out, wetting his lower lip, rosy and pink. “I’m just-”

“Yeah,” A whisper. His fingers were soft on your arm, warm. And you pressed your lips to his. Hard to explain, how right it felt. Like you had a puzzle you’d been working on all your life and you were close to finishing, putting the whole thing together and he came up and handed you a piece you didn’t know you were missing. But it wasn’t complete yet, not yet.

Lips parting as you kissed him again, that pink tongue brushing against your lower lip. A breath away, “I should go.” Another kiss, soft and languid.

“Yeah.” It was hard to catch your breath, setting back down on your heels, stepping back. The air suddenly chilled, your body missing his warmth.

“If you need anything…” You smiled as he took step off the porch, mouth grinning, stupid and sweet.

“I’ll call.”

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