#he's like a very angry skyscraper

[hnm-tech-support]

(Based on a silly RP I did with @rosiegardenlove )

My dad can be weird about who I bring home... To be fair the guy was GSA *and* Dark Matter but that was still a little harsh!

@kirbyoctournament

[miguelhugger2099]

Eye for an Eye

Summary: Miguel rescues you in an ugly way. A/N: my guilty pleasure is sometimes i wanna be saveddd Warnings: Brief suggestion to sexual harrassment/assault, a bit of violence.

Somehow in the year 2099, most people didn't understand that Spider-Man in this age didn't follow the famous "no killing" rule that the original Spider-Man upheld in the Heroic Age. Most people meaning criminals.

Spider-Man, even when saving people from falling from skyscrapers or punching Public Eye scum in the face, if pushed to his limits- he would kill. This was his rules, his timeline, his Nueva York and if some pesky criminal wouldn't understand that then he'd get rid of them by any means.

So where do you come in all this?

Despite your efforts at secrecy, in the dead of night Spider-Man would often escort you home after work or if you had gotten into trouble with some purse snatcher. Other times, he'd sneak in your apartment window after a long fight, wanting to see you and have you patch up the wounds that would take a little more time to heal.

Spider-Man had revealed to you that he was actually Miguel O'Hara, the handsome stranger that had seemingly bumped into you more and more often after your very first encounter with Spider-Man. Having already been in an established relationship, you felt your heart drop at this major secret.

A part of you was angry at him for not telling you. For revealing your feelings about Miguel to his alter ego Spider-Man and making a fool of yourself. For all the nights he cancelled seeing you without explanation-something that put a strain on your relationship for a while. 

However the other half of you was drowned in worry. So all those times his masked covered face had come in to see you, bloody and bruised while you fixed him up, it was all him. He could die, you told him. Why would he do this to himself?

"I haven't been good all my life," He groaned while you pressed a damp cloth to his wound one night. "I think of all this as repentance for being a shocking moron in my earlier years."

"There are other ways to repent. Like donating to charity or some confession booth at a church. Not some...Not risking your life." You could barely look at him, tears brimming your eyes and threatening to fall while it clouded your vision. 

"I'm not religious." Miguel replies. "It wouldn't mean anything with these in my body now. They'd probably still send me to Hell regardless." He lifts his hand, his talons auto extracting from his fingertips and he feels the bile from his stomach stir, an urge to vomit at the disgust of himself.

He forces his talons back into his fingertips so he could tilt your chin up to face him. His thumb caressed your cheek to wipe off a stray tear that had fallen. "I'm sorry I put this all on you." He whispers.

You shake your head. "You're stupid, I always knew that," You sniffle and Miguel bites his cheek so he doesn't smile. "But I could help you better now. I...I know who you are and everything makes sense now, we could-"

Miguel stops you by shushing you. "No, no, no. You're not helping me anymore." Your heart drops again.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the last time we'll see each other."

Your jaw drops this time. Eyes that widened in shock now turn to anger. "Shock, Miguel. I knew you were an asshole but breaking up with me after revealing your secret identity to me has got to be one of the lowest things you're doing."

You lean away from him, bloodied and dried cloth thrown at his chest. "I was useful when you could just pop in whenever? No strings attached–was it fun?" You scoff in hurt.

Miguel grits his teeth. "No, carajo, it's-it's me-"

"Don't bullshit me Miguel with that it's not you, it's me rhetoric." You cross your arms tightly to your chest.

"It's dangerous!" He barks back.

"Like it wasn't dangerous before?" 

"It was! That's why I can't come back! I can't let myself lead them to you!" Miguel sits up and grabs onto your shoulders tightly and gives you a firm shake. His hands shake as he holds you, his head hanging. "This...this power of mine. I...it can lead so many of those assholes to you." He whispers. "I trusted you enough to come here, which I hate myself for. I should’ve never involved you in any of this.” Miguel’s hands fall from your shoulders and down your arms to grip your hands in his. “I’ve already put you in so much danger. If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The feeling of his talons pricking your skin and the sight of his fangs leaking a drop of his venom made you think maybe he did know what he’d do. He would just really want to avoid it.

“Miggy,” You say softly. “How about you let me make that choice? Now that I know, it doesn’t scare me. Do you know why?” You take your right hand out his grip to cup his cheek. His tired eyes look up to yours, nostril dried with blood and a scar on his forehead that surely needed bandages.

“Because I know you’ll protect me. You’re Spider-Man.” You lean in closer, Miguel under your spell. “Let me help you. That’s my decision. In return, if I’m ever a damsel in distress, I hope you’ll help me.” You give him a small smile and his hand covers yours on his cheek. He squeezes your fingers. “I promise.” He swears. Miguel always kept his promises even if he stumbled on the way. So when he went to visit you after his nightly patrol, he didn’t expect to see your entire apartment in disarray. His mask phases off his head, scarlet eyes wide and panicked. He gulps down his fear, muscles tense as he steps into your room. Blankets and pillows on the floor, some slashed and stuffing being poured out the seams. Your desk that held photos of you and your friends had also fallen to the floor, glass shattered and frames broken. Miguel takes another quiet step outside of your room. Your entire living room was a mess. Your couch had been moved and cut in half, lamps cracked and more photos on the floor. His heart stops when he sees blood in the kitchen. Some of the knives had been taken and another wave of fear splashes down his spine. It was clear there had been some sort of resistance with whoever took you. Whoever took you. Who took you? Miguel feels the fear morph into rage, his mask phasing back on his head. “Lyla. Scan this place.” He growls. His AI assistant glitches into existence, her eyes behind her pink heart shaped glasses full of worry. She begins phasing in and out of different places while Miguel lets the anger fester in his body. HIs talons on his fingers and feet itch to come out, to be sharpened for whatever poor soul’s flesh he’ll rip into. His fangs seep out his paralyzing venom, his tongue licking off the excess. Lyla appears in front of him, more meek and smaller compared to her usual upbeat and sarcastic nature. She knew there was a time and a place. “The blood isn’t hers. They most likely knocked her out since there’s no trace of her own blood around. Fingerprints on the knife handle are hers. No other DNA samples could be acquired.”

Miguel walks towards the entrance of your apartment. His hand grazes the door frame that had been split apart. Lyla appears next to him. “Forced entry, probably by foot. There’s some traces of wet soil–mainly seawater. I’ve tracked several fishing ports–most in Staten Island.” She displays holograms of different spots, standing tall by his side while he skims through. “Did you find a match on the blood?” His voice rumbles. “Negative, Miguel. None in the criminal database, including The Raft. Looks like this is the work of someone new.” Miguel grows furious. He roars as he punches his hand through the already destroyed couch. Some novice wants his attention so badly, he’s willing to piss him off for it. Miguel swings out of your place and searches the entirety of Staten Island’s fishing ports until he finds the one he was looking for. You don’t know where you are but you can feel everything. A sash was wrapped tightly around your eyes, some rope or zip ties held your wrists together and your ankles to the chair you sat on. You felt the pounding of a headache when you woke up. The last thing you remembered was one of the intruders lifting his gun and slamming the barrel down on your temple. They grew tired of you after reaching into the kitchen to protect yourself. You held them off well but you were still just one person. The sash had been lifted from your eyes and you groaned when a bright light of a lamp shined in your face. While you squinted, you could make out at least three people in front of you.

“I’m sorry about my men. They’re still a little new. You know how it is when you get trainees for a new job.” The one in the middle speaks, you noticed he also is the one that took off your sash. “What the hell was the point of all this? You just kidnap random people from their homes?” You glare up at the man and his two puppets. “Streets say you’re good friends with Spidey.” One of the smirks. “Had one of these guys watch him crawl in your window like some squashed bug.” You scoff softly, rolling your side to the side. “So what?”

The man in front shrugs. “Either you’re his whore or you know him. So which is it sweetheart?” He rests his hand on the back seat of your chair and leans in close to your face. “Who is Spider-Man?”

You licks your lips and stare back up at him, choking back the stretch his breath was. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “Hm. So you’re his whore. A special one at that. He doesn’t appear in just anyone’s home so what services do you offer him in exchange for some protection? Do they apply here? Baby, I can protect you too.”

He’s sick, your mind screamed. You struggled against your restraints.

“Shock you.” You spit on his shirt and he lands a hard slap across your cheek.

He mumbles a string of curses before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him again. “Don’t forget who’s in the shocking chair, sweetheart. Your hero ain’t here so be a doll and shut the hell up.”

Your chest heaved up and down in deep breaths to calm your scared heart. You feel your cheek stinging and it didn’t help with this rotten man’s fingers digging into your skin.

Your silence pleases him and his other hand reaches down to your knee. “I don’t wanna hurt you, sweet thing. It’s just one simple question and I’ll let you go.” He lies. His hand rides up your thigh and your leg tries to kick him away from you but he just grips you tighter. “I don’t know.” You plead hoarsely. “I know, I know. So you say.” Out of the corner of your eye you see one of his men snatched into the darkness with a clawed hand around his mouth. Miguel. The guy in front of you digs his nails deeper in your skin and you can feel the scratch. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” You whine at the pain, pursing your lips to keep yourself quiet. “See, Spidey’s head goes for millions of dollars–money you can’t even comprehend so if you could do your community a favor of just letting us in on some intel on the son of a bitch; that’d be great.” “You wanna kill him?” You ask breathlessly, looking to the other side to see another newbie being hindered, his neck tilted to the side while some teeth bite into his flesh. His body slowly lost consciousness and was also dragged into the darkness silently. “Most of Nueva York wants that guy dead. All the ones on top but I’m dirt poor, sweetie. It’d be a disservice for the hero to not let me kill him. Shouldn't he give to the poor and needy?” He sighs, letting go of your cheek so both his hands rests on your upper thighs. You feel your skin crawling and try to move away as far as you can in your seat. “But you don’t know anything do you? Then I’d be doing a disservice by throwing out some useful goods here, don't you think?” His grimy hands grip your hips, looping his fingers around your jean belt loops. Before you could even think, the man is instantly ripped off of you by his shirt. He’s thrown back on his side, skidding as he comes to a halt. Spider-Man towers in front of you, his back facing you. You could still see the rage oozing from his suit, shoulders and muscles tense and claws out. His chest rises and falls with each jagged breath, the only sound coming out of him.

“Spider-Man!” The man growls, stumbling to get back on his feet. His pistol had slipped from the back of his jeans, sliding away from him. “Dammit–Darrell! Fernando!” He calls to his two men but he freezes. On the floor are both his associates, one’s clothes ripped apart with claw marks on his chest, the other with his jaw slacked open and two puncture holes in his neck–a strange mixture of blood and another liquid oozing from the wound. He lets out a strangled scream as he looks back up at Spider-Man. His tall frame stalks over to him but the man crawls to find his gun. Before he could grab it, Miguel stomps on the man's arm, giving a satisfying crack to his bone which the man cries out painfully. While he writhes on the concrete ground, Miguel grabs onto his broken arm and lifts him up–he screams, trying to push Miguel away. “You wanted to kill me?” Miguel growls, his voice deep and menacing. The man pleads for his life and another set of footsteps come from behind. “Shoot him!” The man yells as Miguel looks back over his shoulder. The rest of the group comes up from behind Miguel, raising–what Miguel considers pathetic–guns up to his face. The eyes on Miguel’s mask squint slightly and just as quickly, he turns with the man in his hands and uses his body to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets. The man’s entire group fires and every single bullet pierces into his body, splattering blood on the ground and Miguel’s suit. Miguel makes sure that you weren’t hit at any moment. Miguel tosses the limp corpse to the side and pounces into the group, attaching his fangs into some man’s neck while his talons ripped along his arm to let go of the rifle he was holding. Chaos ensues and they all begin shooting at one another in hopes that one shot could land on Spider-Man. Miguel’s claws ripped apart limbs and skin, every single hand that raised against you was littered to the ground. He continues to swing and jump around, letting everyone get lost in the confusion before tearing through chests and stomachs. His rage knew no bounds at the moment. He had planned to just come in secretly while he still had a part of his mind. Get in, use his venom, take you and get out. But when he saw what that scum would’ve done to you, touching you, gripping onto you–he lost his mind. Even with Lyla’s brief protest, Miguel couldn’t help but want to tear him apart. So he did.

It wasn’t often Miguel had to be reduced to such measures but everyone had their limits. By the time it was over, he barely noticed how silent it had become. His ears were still ringing, he felt like he was underwater as he gulped in heaps of air. “Miguel!” He hears Lyla yell at him. He snaps his head to where he heard her voice, blind rage melting when he sees you still in the chair. He sees Lyla with her arms crossed, her little foot tapping angrily in mid-air. Lyla had done her best to cover your sight and hearing of the crime Miguel had done with holograms of whatever–surely it was much nicer than watching Miguel gnaw off a piece of someone’s throat. Miguel glances at his hands stained and dripping with blood. He wipes them on his legs, hoping to get it off him before you could see. He falls to his knees in front of you with a soft whine of your name and his mask phases off. “Lyla, blur the room.” Lyla does as told and lets you see him. Your eyes are concerned and scared. “Miggy…” You whisper, feeling the trauma set in. “I’m here, I’m here–I told you I’d protect you, yeah?” Miguel uses his talons to cut off the zip ties from your wrists and ankles that were digging in your skin. Once you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms. Miguel fell back but made sure to hug you back, his arms going around your waist while his other arm went up to cradle your head. He buried himself in your shoulder, breathing in the mixture of your natural scent and the scent of the man. He growled and held you tighter. He’d do something about that smell.

“I was so scared–I didn’t know what to do–How did you find me?” You babbled as you finally felt safe enough to sob and cry. “Don’t worry about that. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Miguel reassures you, kissing your temple and cheek, pulling away gently to brush your messy hair away from your face. He wipes your tears with the back of his hand, unintentionally leaving a bloody mark. “Shit..” He mumbles, ashamed and pulls his hand away. You stop him, holding his hand back to your cheek. You just wanted to feel him, his warmth. You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened when Lyla put up holograms that blurred what you weren’t supposed to see. You didn’t care. May they rot. “Thank you.” You whimpered. “Thank you.” Miguel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Always. I’ll take you home.” “But, my apartment–” You try to speak as Miguel moves to hold your body in one hand while he swings on his web with the other. “Not your apartment. Mine. My penthouse. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” Your arms were securely around his neck. He was still tense but much less before. You tried to look back down but he squeezed you tighter– he didn’t want you to see.

For tonight, he’d take care of you just like all those nights you took care of him.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: major spoilers, angst, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon ignorance and inaccuracies, if you read the drabble you’ll know you originally just hosted Venom but this time I’m writing you as Spider-Venom

—

[Unedited]

The sun kissed the Western horizon as it slowly sunk beneath the surface. The gorgeous colors of the settling dusk bathing your New York in the luminous sheen of the golden glow that settles upon the city like a blanket.

You were just finishing up for the day, swinging from a tall skyscraper to tether a web to the very top of a clock tower. Pulling yourself up all the way to the top to perch on one of the very many gargoyle statues jutting out of the tower’s roof lip.

“Hungry.”

“That’s what the sandwiches are for bud.”

Venom settled inside when you tore the wrapping off the sandwich and took a big bite out of the end. Plenty of meat packed into the sandwich but also enough vegetables to sustain you too. Nutrients were vital in your symbiotic relationship with the alien and regardless of where they came from you both needed hundreds of them to keep yourselves alive and healthy.

“I hate the vegetables.”

“Well I like them. They taste better than people do.”

“You’ve never had another person before! You don’t let me eat people!”

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“Hmph.”

You rolled your eyes at the symbiote’s childish behavior, you’ve grown used to it but that didn’t mean you’d grown to like their attitude.

But you had grown to like them, ever since they had attached themself to you on your fourteenth birthday. The same day you very nearly took your own life.

Your life was far from perfect, as a matter of fact you can’t remember a time in your twenty long years of being alive that you’d actually been happy. Really, well and truly happy.

Your mother died when you were five and your father had abandoned you not too long after. About a year and half to be precise, and in his care and his care alone you’d learned that he was the furthest thing from what a proper father should be.

The first five years in which he parented you alongside your beloved mother he seemed guarded. Closed off, angry at the world and everyone surrounding him. And his own personal turmoil seemed to transcend into raising you— as he didn’t put an ounce of love or affection into bringing you up.

At the time, you hadn’t understood. What did you do wrong? Did you make him angry? Why wouldn’t he love you unconditionally? Your mother did.. was it so hard for him to treat you as his own? As if he loved you?

Apparently it was too hard for him, because he didn’t want to do it alone. And when your mother had died of cancer he had attempted to raise you in her honor but failed miserably and gave up within two years.

You were seven when you experienced your first heartbreak, in the years prior under his ‘care’ you had plenty share of devastation and let-downs from him. But none compared to this, no other feeling you had ever experienced before compared to this.

A searing ache in your chest born of self doubt, lack of self worth and value. Because you had believed it was entirely your fault that he was incapable of loving you fully and to the extent of his heart. And it festered in your years spent under different families, the issues regarding how you viewed yourself only darkening as you were let down over and over again.

Given up on— over and over again. And the ache continued to linger, growing in secret places— dark and hateful in your tired heart.

And slowly but surely it had given up on you too, shatter to pieces and cast to the wind to leave you broken and hurt. Vulnerable and fragile to the cold and bitter winds of this cruel and brutal life.

Eventually your mind followed suit, wishing for anything to escape this pain. Anything to leave it behind.

Your luck had a turn for the worst when you were bitten by a spider at twelve and gifted cursed with abilities and skills inhuman and otherworldly.

Enhanced senses, heightened sensitivities and awareness and phenomenal intelligence and strength.

Superhuman.

And for two years you lived with it, not utilizing the powers for any kind of purpose. The heightened healing property of your curse made it hard to give up on this life as you had so desperately wished to.

You tried and tried again— and each time you failed.

When you were fourteen is when you met Venom, you had tested buildings before but never the Golden Gate Brigde. And as you clambered over the rail to stand at the very edge of the bridge’s structure— it happened.

You remember the feel of their texture sliding across your skin, then the pressure you felt as they sunk beneath your skin to meld with your body—

“It wasn’t that bad. You’re overexaggerating.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stay out of my head.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“Venom,” you scolded lightly. Not reprimanding in a way that spat disappointment over ownership. But in a way that spoke volumes of the relationship you shared with the alien. Equals.

“I hate it when you think about that bastard.”

“I know, I’m sorry.. my thoughts get away from me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. He made his choice, you are what he made you. And you’re more than worth it. You deserve love just as everybody else.”

They went silent after that and you didn’t bother trying to get them to keep up the conversation. Just smiled softly at their nature— overprotective and fond.

Venom had saved your life when you were at your lowest, the abilities you gained from your spider bite coupled well with their own. And upon latching themself to you they had promised they would make you see the value in life. And you had.. in them.

They were what kept you alive, and you couldn’t be more grateful for them coming to your aid when you needed it the most.

“You’re sweet, you like to act like you’re big and bad but on the inside you’re just a big softie.”

“I regret everything I said.”

“Oh come on, I was thanking you for what you said.”

“Funny how you didn’t actually say the words ‘thank you’ at all.”

You just laughed as they grumbled in your head, but you were swift to straighten and turn serious when your senses tingled. Like a cold rippled shucking down your back to warn you of incoming danger or threats.

Venom growled lowly alongside the tingle and you jumped up, spinning around to face the danger that caused your senses to ripple. And a glowing orange portal suddenly erupted to life just a few feet in front of you. Sliding your mask back on you separated your feet and steadied yourself, prepared and strong in stance.

Your senses tingled again— sharper this time and you stood there on tense silence and a brief moment of absolute stillness. A moment later something was shooting from the portal, something turned out to be someone and you recognized the green suit and grinning goblin mask as Green Goblin tackled you off the building.

You freed yourself from his grasp and shot a web to the corner of the building to your left before pulling yourself free from his grip and onto the side of the skyscraper.

Your jaw ticked as a flicker of annoyance sparked to life in your chest. The very last thing you wanted to deal with after a long day was an anomaly. You were honestly tempted to just call up Peter B. Parker and have him come here and take care of this himself.

Or maybe he could convince the leader he follows to come do it, not that you know his name or anything f about him but from what Peter says apparently he’s pretty damn good at his job.

“Seriously another one? Our dimension can’t be that exciting can it?”

“Right there with ya buddy, why did he have to come here after we already finished up our day too?”

“Honestly, like— a little fucking class wouldn’t hurt.”

You chuckled at their remark before your senses tingling had you swinging away from the spot you occupied previously just as a gas bomb erupted against the brick.

An irritated sigh left your lips behind the fabric of your mask as you perched yourself on a lamp post, the Goblin’s eerie hysterical laughter echoing loud and prominent in the desolate streets surrounding you. Everyone having long since turned in for the night leaving the area free of any civilians which made your job —and in turn Venom’s— easier at least.

The fight that had begun two minutes after Goblin had tried to surprise you with his fucking chemical bombs wasn’t all you had thought it would be. This Goblin was a whole lot weaker than your Goblin, not only that but the guy kept glitching every few minutes.

And you and Venom capitalized on the very golden opportunities that event opened up to you every time it occurred.

And finally taking him down without any damage to the buildings or street was just the icing on the cake, the fact that the whole fight didn’t endanger any innocent people was a plus too.

Things only went to shit when you went back to that portal with Goblin slung over your shoulder and found two different spider variants walking out of it.

“Well what the fuck took them so damn long? Sure, sure no worries we’ll protect our own universe and keep others out too. No fucking problem on our end.”

Again, you found yourself chuckling humorously at Venom’s attitude. Their clear lack of patience and respect for those in charge of keeping the multiverse under control amusing you. Sure, you both liked Peter enough to admire what it was he and the guy he followed did.. along with the other spider variants he works with. But still.. if you’re going to make this your entire career and you’re going to dedicate yourself to the security of the multiverse— at least be good at it.

“Think this asshole got lost, poor wee lamb.” You quipped as you landed on the rooftop the other were standing on. You carelessly threw Goblin off your shoulder and he grunted as he hit the concrete on his back. The sound of pain coming from him almost humanizing him a bit, and you curled your lip derisively as he broke out into a mad grin seconds later.

Whilst you were distracted staring at Norman, Miguel withheld his sudden and intense urge to upheave all the contents in his stomach. His heard felt like lead as it plummeted to his toes, knots in his stomach winding themselves up tightly at the sound of your voice.

“[Y/Name]?”

You looked up when the man of the two variants spoke, and there was a flicker of recognition in your stomach at the voice. Recognition that swiftly turned to course and fiery hot rage that flowed through your blood like magma.

“How dare he?!”

The man pulled his mask off his face and there he was, your father, Miguel O’hara.

“How dare he return here?!”

You took an instinctive step back from him when he revealed his face. And you flinched internally when you saw it, he looked miserable.. eyes bloodshot and brows downturned to put a deep and painful scowl on his face.

He looked broken.. hurt.

And the twisted and vengeful feelings inside you felt good at the prospect of him hurting. You liked that look on his face.. because he more than deserved whatever put it there.

Miguel watched as you stepped back, you didn’t remove your mask as he did. Just stood there frozen as you stared at him. Then the eyes of your mask narrowed and he could abruptly feel the heat of your glare searing into his skin. Angry and painful.

“Parker— that fucking bastard, we’ll kill him.”

“We?” The woman spoke and you looked from your father to her. She had darker skin and a styled afro, her mask was more or less goggles on her face and Venom snickered inside your head at the mental insult you made.

You decided to ignore her question, the passive aggressive tone she took not inclining you to be cooperative with her at all.

“As far as we know Osborne was the only one who got into this universe,” you informed choosing to look back to Miguel to address him instead of the woman. “So gather him and go home.”

“[Y/Name] wait!—”

“Don’t. You’re just here for him right?” You queried gesturing to Norman when you referred to him. Then you were facing Miguel again. “Take him and get out. We’re finished here.” You weren’t granted the chance to see his reaction— immediately doing what you thought was best for you and getting out of the uncomfortable spot his return had put you in.

And you swung away as you ignored the calls of your name he roared into the night. You didn’t want anything to do with him, and there was nothing you owed to that bastard. Not a damn thing.

And as you swung away from that rooftop you felt angry at the fact that you could feel your guarded heart hurt in deep and stinging agony once again— because of him.

And you felt a twitch of disgust in yourself twist itself into a knot within your chest, born at the expense you felt you were dishonoring Venom by being hurt you saw your father again.

After all, it was them that had healed you six years ago when they had first bonded with you. And it was them and them alone that had healed that ache in your heart.

“Kid.”

“Please Venom, not now.”

They went silent after that, and you stayed quiet too as you swung through the city. You just wanted to be at home, safe and comfortable in the warmth of your own space. Just so you could calm the roaring of your blood and thunderous heart in the security and peace that your home brought you.

You knew that now that he knows you’re still alive he’ll come back, and you’re not sure how the next time will go.. this time you just wanted out. The way your heart had picked up and the way your blood quickened had made you just want to be isolated and safe.

You’re not so sure which feeling will take more presence next time— but you could promise this; the rage you had briefly felt, that died behind the feeling of ache and hurt but still lingered, was strong. If it took province over every other feeling next time you could promise it wouldn’t end well.

Not for Miguel.

Not for you.

And not for the multiverse.. the same multiverse he had been so keen on protecting—

The multiverse he had chosen over you.

—

a/n: I did this during a tattoo on my ribs— and the wipe down continues to be my least favorite part of adding tattoos to my body, cause how can I sit through a tattoo just fine then get weak on the wipe down? 🥲🤌🏽

[mrsdesade]

I can fly, you can't

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (I used my OC name here) TW: fighting, teasing, mention of sxx abuse, Homelander being an asshole as usual playing with your fears Timeline: The Boys S1 Words count: 3,2k Note: this is the first long one-shot fic I wrote please be kind and enjoy the drama, English isn't even my native language so I'm trying my best to write correctly! Summary: Homelander following you after a meeting, after forcing you the night before to be his perfect girlfriend for the media (and in your bed), you hated all of this and you hoped to have a moment of peace for you, but after a fight he discovered what your biggest phobia is.

Leaving the meeting room feels like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. It's like you can finally breathe again and think clearly without Homelander around. You feel like you're finally free from the burden of having to act like his girlfriend in public, at least for a little while. You exit the elevator and step outside on the rooftop of the Vought Tower, and then take a deep breath of fresh air and try to calm yourself down.

You take a few steps to the edge of the building, looking down on the city and trying to clear your mind. But your fear of vertigo kicked in and you're forced to step back immediately.

You heard the little sound of the elevator coming up, someone is coming after you. You can only guess who it is, especially considering how everyone else in the building is in that meeting. It's probably your nightmare of your days and nights, Homelander.

He steps out of the elevator and immediately notices your tense expression and the way you step back.

"What's wrong Ophera? Running away from an official meeting isn't really from you." he asks mockingly, his tone very smug and his smirk wide.

His footsteps echoing in the silence. As he got closer to you, you could feel his presence, and your heart sank with each step he took. You knew you had to stay calm, but the fear of vertigo and the presence of Homelander made that very difficult for you.

"I was bored. The topic doesn't concern me so I left with an excuse." you lied, slowly coming back to the elevator direction, standing safety far from the edge of the building. You've a secret to hide.

"Bored? It's rather unusual behaviour for you. There's something you're hiding and I want to know what it is..." he can see that you're trying to stay calm, but he can sense there's something wrong. He notices your movements towards the elevator direction and he steps closer to you, his gaze fixed on you.

"I'm perfectly fine. I assure you." you continued to maintain your fake calm behaviour, trying your best to don't look at the edges of the skyscraper.

"I'm not stupid. I can see through your deception. You think I haven't noticed your uneasiness? And I've been watching closely since this morning. You are acting strange, you're hiding something.'' he suddenly steps closer to you, his hand grabbing your chin and lifting it up towards him, his eyes locking onto yours. His gaze turns intense and calculating as he speaks to you.

You push him back with both of your hands, making him leaning back a few centimeters from you. You've to keep your secret or he may use it against you "I'm mad at you for what happened last night. Am I allowed to be angry or not?"

"Angry? Oh, so now you're angry at me for what happened last night?" He says, his voice filled with a mixture of arrogance and aggression. "Did I hurt your pretty little feelings?"

"I've no feelings for you, you hurt my body, you forced me. It was horrible." you pointed your finger at him and taking some step closer, for someone maybe you may be intimidating but for sure not for him.

Homelander's expression falters for a moment, your words seemed to have a genuine impact on him, especially when you accused him of hurting you and forcing you. "Oh, forced you? You have no idea what it means to be forced. You're still alive and healthy, aren't you? How much did it hurt anyway?" he lets out a scoff, like he's dismissing your words.

You felt for a second like your feelings and actions are nothing to him, everything you say is invaluable by his own way to see stuff. You became unable to control yourself and you can't stop from attack him out of frustration. You punched him on his pretty cheek.

Your punch didn't even make him fall back a single step, he looked at you with a fierce gaze and just laughed at you, like he found your action incredibly hilarious. "Ah, that's definitely a strong punch right there. You're gonna need more than that to hurt me girl. But I must say, I'm entertained by your attempt."

"I've just started, asshole." you answered immediately with a serious and challenging expression, starting to attack him again. In the back of your mind you know you can't really hurt him, but you need to let out all of your rage and frustration.

"For real, you're cute when you're trying to be strong. It's adorable, like a little Chihuahua attacking a Rottweiler. But I gotta give it to you for trying." He comments as you start punching and kicking at him with all your might.

You felt even more rage coming up inside your body. You move your hands in little circles movements and decide to use your powers. You can't hurt him, we'll see.

"Don't you dare calling me dog." your powers allow you to manipulate metals, so you lift two metal plates that were abandoned on the rooftop and throw them in his direction, fast, sharp and very heavy.

"Oh, so you're gonna use your powers against me now, huh?" He says with a confident tone, almost seeming like he's not taking your attempts seriously.

"That's cute." Despite his smug attitude, Homelander manages to dodge the flying metal plates with ease. He dodges them without breaking a sweat, and looks back at you with his usual smirk.

The plates fell of the skyscraper and probably are gonna hurt someone on the city, but you don't care at the moment. Your following attack was immediate, you managed to control some metal cords from the elevator and use them as sharp whip against him. You didn't notice as well that in this action, you broke the elevator, you already don't know that but you're stuck on the rooftop with him now.

He can fly, and you don't.

As you use the broken elevator cable as a whip, he manages to dodge it again. "Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to kill you right now?"

"Attack me then, fight me Homelander!" you shouted in his direction, challenge him and then continuing using the cables, even doing a little scratch on him can make you satisfied, but seems quite impossible for now.

"You want a fight? Alright then. Let's see how long you last." He suddenly flies at you at a high speed. With a swift move, he lunges at you, he grabs your neck, his grip is tight and powerful.

You don't even have time to react, in just a single movement you appear defeated. It's hard to breath now. Your hands closed on his wrist that he's holding you so tightly "That's easy for you, but you've not...win...yet..."

That blonde monster scoffs at your comment. "Not winning? I have you in a chokehold and you're struggling to breathe. How can you say I haven't won yet?"

"Maybe I should squeeze tighter..." he adds, increasing the pressure on your neck. He smirks, looking at you with a certain degree of arrogance. You can feel his thumb pressing harder on your throat and his fingers squeezing it tighter, making it hard to breathe.

The words die in your throat, but you don't give up, you try to lift a metal pipe using your powers, you stretch out your hand in that direction and the object flies at an impressive speed towards him.

"Oh really? Trying to attack me again? Didn't we settle this already? I have you by the throat, you're literally in my hands." he says, his grip on your throat tightening even more, but he manages to catch the pipe you threw at him with one hand.

You stare at the metal tube in his hand snapping like a branch of wood, he could do the same to your neck.

"You really can't stop struggling, hmm? You're just going to exhaust yourself baby. How about you just give up already?"

''I'm not the type of woman who gives up easily...'' you feel the oxygen lacking, the pressure on your neck is increasing and you no longer breathing at all.

"I appreciate your determination... but I guess you'll just have to suffer a little more to learn the lesson." he tightened his grip on your neck even more, choking you and making it harder and harder to breathe.

you're about to respond, but you can only cough from the lack of air. When suddenly you feel Homelander lift himself off the ground without letting you go, reminding you that he can fly and you can't. As your feet no longer touch the ground, you feel the fear of heights overwhelming you and your fear of vertigo kicks in.

"How does it feel to be completely at my mercy? To be helpless and powerless, at the mercy of someone who can do whatever they want with you? It must be quite an experience, hmm?" he says with a taunting smile, watching you with a look of amusement.

As you feel yourself being lifted off the ground, your heart skips a beat and your panic sets in, now you're in mid-air, with your feet dangling.

''Put me down...! Immediately!'' as he rises you are forced by your fear to cling to his shoulders, and his grip on your neck becomes lighter, he wants to give you the impression of falling into the void.

"Excuse me, are you afraid of heights? I guess being up here is really shaking your confidence, isn't it? Trust me, I'd hate to drop you."

From your expression it's clear that you are afraid of great heights, and that the vertigo is terrifying you, your secret is now fully exposed and he knows it. He should never have found out.

Homelander notices instantly how you're responding to being high above the ground and that your secret is now out. A sense of superiority and satisfaction washes over him, he finally has a weakness of yours he can use against you. "Wow, look at your expression. You're absolutely terrified. Kinda pathetic. And all this fear because of an innocent little height? You really need to work on that."

You feel him completely release his grip on your neck and you risk falling, he's forcing you to clinging to him for safety with both hands and find yourself face to face with him.

''Please, please please please! Don't...!'' you continue to look down as he moves outside the perimeter of the skyscraper, leaving only the view of the city below you.

"Oh, now you're begging for mercy, huh? It's cute to see the mighty Ophera tremble in fear. But don't worry, I won't drop you… yet."

''Hold me up for goodness sake, or I swear to God when I get down from here I'll kill you!'' you give in to the obviousness of having to beg him for help. Your ramblings are dictated by fear and anxiety, you are facing your greatest fear in the worst way, and seeing him laugh at you only makes you more nervous.

''Look at you, begging me so desperately. It's hilarious. But I guess I have some mercy in me, so sure, why not." he says with a mocking tone, wrapping his arms tightly around you, making it seem like a tender hug but in reality he's just trapping you.

"Is that better? Don’t you feel lucky to have your hero protecting you?" he adds, continuing his taunting.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his arms supporting you and some of the fear vanishes, but you still remain on alert, expecting some nasty prank from him. Then you hold on more tightly and rest your head on his shoulder, exhausted.

''I despise you Homelander...''

"Ah, you know I'm not surprised. But I have to say, you look adorable when you're frightened and clutching onto me. Maybe next time I should throw you off the roof and catch you before you hit the ground? Just to really see you panic." he teases you mockingly as he holds you close in a loving terrifying embrace.

You feel too frightened and exhausted to respond, so you just stay there, your head resting on his shoulder. But the thought of what he just told you made you shiver, because you know that if he could, he really would.

"Cat got your tongue? What's the matter, can't use that pretty little voice of yours to express your detest for me anymore?' he tauntingly whispers in your ear while one of his hands remains holding you, and the other starts brushing gently through your hair, in a seemingly affectionate gesture.

''Bring me back to the ground...'' you beg him once again, feeling miserable for the hundredth time in a few days, in every situation with him, you always come out defeated.

"Come on now, I thought you were enjoying this little flying adventure? Just look at the beautiful view, you should appreciate the scenery." still speaking mockingly as he slowly starts to descend towards the rooftop, he lands softly on the ground.

''The answer is no.'' your legs start to tremble as soon as you hit the ground, your heart is beating fast and even your hands are still shaking from the scare from just before, imagining yourself falling was terrible.

"Wow, that was quite a performance. You really made quite a show of yourself up there, clutching onto me like your lifeline. I wonder what the fans would say if they saw the mighty Ophera frightened to death by a little bit of height."

''You call that a little height? We were at least thirty meters from the ground!'' you scream at him, still exhausted and frustrated by what happened, you approach him again and point the finger at him, your tone continually oscillates between fear and stupid courage.

"Thirty meters, yeah that's no big deal."

Then he walks towards you, taking one step with each word, a mocking smile still painted on his face. "I think I really need to teach you to face your fears. Maybe I can be your flying instructor and help you conquer your precious vertigo, would you like that?"

''Shut up, you must not tell anyone about this, not to Ashley, not to the Seven, not to the media, not to anyone.'' this time your voice is firmer, almost authoritative, you know what your career depends on, and you can't risk being fired from Vought.

"Relax, your secret is safe with me." he rolls his eyes at your demand, clearly not taking it seriously. His tone is bored, feigning disinterest.

"It's not like I want to tell everyone how easy it is to make you scream, in different situation." he adds with a smirk, as if the idea of keeping this secret amuses him more than bothers him.

''We're not all perfect like you, you know?'' you are as always shocked by his audacity, and you have to take a deep breath so as not to insult him once again, it's really difficult to tolerate.

Homelander grins and rolls his eyes in response to your sarcasm. He starts walking around you, circling you like a predator observing its prey.

"True, not everyone can be like me. But don't feel bad, it's quite amusing to see how quickly you crumbles. Maybe one day you'll reach my level of perfection, but I doubt it." he responds mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm as well.

''I don't want to reach your level, I just want to be left with my feet firmly on the ground.'' your response is calm but attentive, you follow him with your gaze as he walks around you, the cold air at the top of the skyscraper moves your messy hair from the fear of just before. Then a question arises spontaneously from you.

''You weren't serious before when you talked about pushing me off the skyscraper, were you?''

''Didn't you hear the sarcasm in my tone? Of course I was serious, it would be hilarious to see your face when you plummets down, screaming your lungs out. I mean, imagine the thrill of feeling the wind in your hair, the adrenaline running through your body..." his words dripping with mocking sarcasm that turns into a dark smile.

''Yeah…that would be terrifying for me.'' you take a step back still eye locked on him, while insecurity makes room in you, you don't know whether to trust him or not.

"Aww, don't be scared now. I know you secretly loved being up there with me, all dizzy and clinging onto me."

''Don't talk nonsense...'' but while you try to leave that situation your eye falls on the elevator, it is broken due to your previous fight, another fear grips your insides, how will you now get down from there?

Homelander notices your gaze shift towards the broken elevator, and he laughs again, clearly enjoying the situation. "Oops, looks like the elevator's busted. Well, guess you're stuck up here with me for a while longer...unless you decide to fly with me, we would get off a lot faster than waiting for the Vought techs, it will take a few hours to fix it.''

''I'd rather die than fly with you again.''

He smiles at your defiant response, clearly enjoying the game. "Hmm, let's see. A long day with me up here, or a thrilling flight with the world's greatest hero. Your choice." says tauntingly, standing before you with his hands on his hips.

''Believe me, it would be terrifying either way.'' you sigh deeply, looking for a solution, as your phone continues to ring, Ashley wants to warn you that the repairs will take a long time. After all, they are fixing an elevator for a hundred-story building, it's not something simple.

"Ah, seems like you're running out of options, aren't you? But don't worry, I'm feeling generous today. I'll take you down.''

''Ah-ah, of course. And what do you want in return for this so kind and heartwarming favour?''

Homelander smiles mockingly at your words, but you notice a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes. "Well, since you asked so kindly, I want a picture of the great Ophera, in my arms as I carry her back to the ground safely. The tabloids will love it, and more importantly, you need me to get down there. So how about this?''

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, expecting some other much more indecent request (but clearly you would have received those later, once the sun went down). And for once when his request was acceptable, you nodded.

''But I warn you, Homefuckinglander, try to make some jokes while we are suspended in the air and the journalists will have to talk about your murder and not one of your heroic rescues.''

He chuckles at your threat, clearly amused but also a bit turned on by your feisty attitude.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll be on my best behavior. After all, we wouldn't want the media to know about my little sadistic tendencies, now would we?" he extends his arms, inviting you to step into his embrace.

Slowly, you approach him, until you're back in his arms, held up like a ridiculous freaking princess, the media and fans will love it, but you'll hate it to the core.

"Remember, eyes on me, and don't forget to smile. This picture is going to be legendary. Ready for another ride?"

______

And we're done! It was so much fun writing this, hope you enjoyed as much I did! Kisses <3

[talewrites]

Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos. 

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles. 

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason. 

You were still scared. 

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance. 

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground. 

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

 “….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands. 

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed. 

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.” 

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch. 

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair. 

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean. 

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.” 

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen. 

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?” 

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. 

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly. 

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions. 

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed. 

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit. 

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth. 

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink. 

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[wyvernest]

Miguel vs very angry reader? Miguel is usually the one who is grumpy and broody but for a change has to deal with his usually cheery lover being unbelievably Moody and angry!

lo siento, mi alma

pairing: miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader

warnings: angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending, miguel kinda being a dick

summary: coming to miguel for comfort leads to a fight, his duty coming right between you

Usually, you would feel so happy and excited about visiting Miguel at HQ. You'd find yourself smiling so stupidly on the way there, surprised with your reflection in a nearby skyscraper, instantly reminded that you're so in love with him. 

But today wasn't one of those days.

Today, your monthly hormonal storm has decided to mess with your mood and patience in a way you weren't looking forward to. Usually, you'd feel more clingy and emotional, yearning to be close to your boyfriend, to be held by him, to cry in his arms because you were out of your favourite snacks. 

But then again, today remains odd among the usual habits.

Today, you felt anger boil in your throat, ready to burst at the slightest inconvenience. And plenty have already tested it. Miles scared the crap out of you by swinging an inch from hitting you, right before scurrying away with an echoed "Hello!" that rang so stridently in your ears. Peter also intercepted your wish-to-be-hidden trip to HQ, unsolicitedly informing you about the last thing Mayday ate, how cute she looked, and how she's been learning to use her webs with more agility. You held back your bubbling nerves, deep down knowing he only meant well.

Finally inside Miguel's extensive laboratories, you look up to spot the platform he usually inhabited empty. 

Great. Fucking hell.

And because expecting something good to happen and then having it snatched from you like a chocolate from a toddler makes you unfathomably angry, you feel hot tears sting your eyes.

You had wanted the comfort of his embrace so bad. It was the only thing that could've soothed your mood. So you found a flat surface to sit on and wait, probably one of the many machines and equipment he spent his whole time creating and testing instead of giving you the attention and love you craved so much, you thought.

It wasn't long before a long, sharp, red blade cut through the fabric of space, followed by the familiar silhouette of your beloved boyfriend. His mask dissolved away, revealing a terribly tired face, hair messed up and cheekbone slightly mauve with a forming bruise. 

He sensed you in the room, not bothering to offer you anything more than a turn of his head in your direction to meet your eyes before sprinting to his platform. Layla also glitched into the room, relaxed as usual. 

You squint, making out "canon divergence RESOLVED" on one of his screens, some hope blooming in your heart at the thought that maybe now he'd have time for you. But before you can inhale to speak, he opens up another portal.

You can't believe it. He didn't even speak to you, like you aren't his heart and soul, as he had told you so many times. 

So you snap.

"Miguel!" You shout, quick and harsh, wanting him to feel a fraction of the frustration that's gutting you right now.

He doesn't flinch.

"I'm busy. Wait for me at home." He speaks with authority and the confidence of a man who knows it wouldn't take much to make you listen to him.

You feel your pulse quicken, heart stuttering with anger and bewilderment.

"That's how much my emotions matter to you?" You shout up to him after a second of weighing his words. "That's the support and consideration I get?" Your voice cracks and you hate that he now knows how affected you are.

"I'm not even a fucking priority at this point. I'm at the bottom of the list."

"I can't deal with this right now. I still have the damage the last anomaly has done to deal with." He raises his voice at you, the words vibrating through the laboratory.

"So I'm on hold until Miguel O'Hara is fucking available? Will you also notify me so that I can present myself back to HQ, sir?" Your tone is dripping venom, sarcasm and sour tears threatening to burst into streams down your cheeks. You do, consider, in the back of your mind, that you're exaggerating. But the way he dismissed you is not an easy thing to get over. No greetings, no emotion, no nothing.

Just "I'm busy.".

No excitement to see you after a mission.

How are you any different than any other spider-person bothering him then? Where is the love he has for you when he's working?

He grinds his jaws together, not wanting to say something he doesn't mean, that he'll regret later. He knows you're particularly sensitive today, but he can't allow himself to soften right in the middle of a job. It's not how he works. He gets distracted.

"I said go home, cariño." He doesn't even face you as he speaks, as if you're a child throwing a tantrum.

You feel small. Irrelevant. He isn't even touched.

"Oh I will." You yell through a sob, your pain arrowing right through his chest.

"Only not to your home." 

You storm out without looking behind. Your ego soared and anger kept rising to your senses. 

You knew you wouldn't break up, or even move out. You just wanted him to feel something. 

You wanted to see him want you. To see him make the slightest gesture towards wanting to keep you by his side.

But the doors closed shut behind you, and you found yourself walking slower, just to give him some time to run after you.

He didn't.

You did your best to hide your teary eyes and runny nose, not wanting to deal with any unwanted attention, any questions, anyone knowing that you and Miguel just had a fight.

You didn't want anyone else's attention but his, and it killed you to acknowledge that.

You got home, finally breaking into tears. You let yourself fall face down into his pillow, still seeking the comfort he never gave you. The smell of him, the imagined, simulated warmth of his embrace.

He had a duty, you know he did. You just wanted to be more than a chore to him. You wondered if this relationship really was for you, head spiralling into the hormones, stress, and wrath. 

You, a needy, extremely loving girlfriend, with a man like him, with a full time job that entire universes depended on. You loved him, you really did. But you loved yourself too. 

The train of thought drifted towards sympathy as the flames of rage ran cold within you. Maybe you were too hard on him. Maybe he really did have urgent things to tend to, and was just trying to keep cool. He hasn't always been the best at showing emotions. 

You whine softly into the pillow, the scent of him flooding your already fluttering heart.

You don't know how much time has passed. You felt your tears dry on your cheeks and your eyes puffy. A creak of the bedroom door makes your heart beat right out of your chest, yet you attempt to stay calm. Heavy footsteps near you, before you see his shadow engulf your shape on the white mattress. 

He hesitates, looking at your quivering body, knowing he should haven't arrived earlier.

If only he could.

Your brows shoot up in surprise at the sight of a bouquet of roses he places on the bed next to you, but you don't get to think of what to say as he kneels at the edge, encircling your waist in his arms, placing his head on your shoulder, close to your own.

"Lo siento mucho, mi alma. Forgive me."

You snivel, humming a fragment of his name. He shuffles closer, seeing no retreat from you. He brings his lips to your stained cheeks, pecking over the salty traces. 

You instinctively shift into his warm embrace, chasing the comfort and touch you had wanted all day. 

"I'm sorry," you begin, "I shouldn't have-"

"Shh, no need" he stops you, pressing a sweet kiss shy of your lips. "No need, mi vida."

His arms tighten their hold around you as he pulls you to his chest. You grab at his biceps, pulling him on the bed. 

"The roses-" He whispers, hurriedly.

"Miguel!" You whine, entrapping his waist with your legs. He complies without another word; suit on, flowers still on the white sheets. With his massive body wrapped around you, finally content, you drift into a sweet slumber.

"Lo siento."

His voice rings low and quiet in your ears as you fall asleep, head on his chest.

translations: Lo siento mucho, mi alma - I'm terribly sorry, (my soul)

a/n: before yall beat my ass for the angst this is the best depiction of miguel x reader x anger issues from both that came to my mind, really hope you like it😭

[saintbarou]

𝐃𝚶𝐍'𝐓 𝐘𝚶𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝚶𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝚶𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝚬 𝐓𝚶𝚾𝐈𝐂.

WARNINGS: 18+ minors dni / loosely established relationship / power dynamics / m!recieving oral / fem!reader / situationship / / the briefest touches of petplay /abuse of power lowkey i can not lie - let me know if i missed something ! (WC: 1.2k)

SYNOPSIS: the electric type gym leader of Python City decided to hole herself up, neflecting her duties for the 4th time and oliver is sent to deal with it.

author's note: written for @prettyboykatsuki. set in my own bllk pokemon au where reader is an electric type gym leader and oliver is the poison type elite four member, region is not specified.

This is the 4th time where Oliver has to be the one to sort this out. Arriving to your city - the famed Python’s City know far and wide for it’s technical prowess because the gym leader decided to hole herself up in some dark room again. The city is a beaming beacon of bright white light and dark glass skyscrapers and everywhere he looks he finds some sort of electric type walking away alight with energy. The path to your Python’s City Gym is deeply ingrained in his mind, counting the folders of information in his brain to rack through all his memories of you that fill him with a sense of deja vu as he presents his League ID to your assistants that have been dealing with the mass of angry challengers that have not backed down from wanting to challenge you.

Your apartment is right above the Gym -a perk to this position which why you took it in the first place. You’d never be one to turn down free housing especially if all you had to do was crush some hot headed dweebs in your words from the last time he had to come visit you. Oliver is at the door to your home and looks for the key in the same place he left it, under your worn out and faded pink welcome rug your friend gave you as a horse warming gift. The apartment is dark and stale when he enters, an amused sigh leaving his lips as he makes his way down a dark hallway he is most familiar with by now.

What he finds is what he expects - you laying flat on your belly with cans of empty energy drinks around you as your eyes remain completely focused on the handsome fictitious man in whatever dating sim you find yourself enraptured in.

Your obliviousness makes him snort and even that keeps you from turning your head to the very obvious man in your room that was once not there. It’s only when he calls your name, voice too smooth and silky for what’s supposed to be a reprimand call. He likes that wide eyed look on your face, it’s very cute for the type of person you try to come off as. You say his name all shocked and surprised as if you didn’t know he would show up after all the complaints you’ve been sent from challengers and your staff.

“You’re in trouble again you know - keep this up and I won’t be able to make these types of calls once they kick you out of your position.” His words makes you turn the way, feigning nonchalance but he can see the twitching of a frown at your bottom lip.

“Don’t tell me that’d make you sad? Not seeing me?” He asked and you let the frown show on your face a little.

“Maybe.”

“Just a maybe ? I think I fuck you a little better than to just get that half-ass response.” You roll your eyes at him and pull your lips back to reveal your teeth in a harsh frown, just to get under his skin and it makes Oliver wrap a big palmed hand around the soft skin of your ankle to drag you down your bed to where he stands. Your face doesn’t change and that’s what he likes even when he starts coiling around you like a serpent with a mouse.

“Shut up - I don’t do this because I wanna fuck you I’m waiting for the stupid League to realize I don’t want this job.” Oliver hums, a soft and measured sound as he lets his hand pull up your sweats to caress more of your supple skin.

“You know I’d believe you more if you hadn’t just shaved.” He remarks and the sight of his grin is like sweet poison to you as you feel an oppressive heat fill your stomach despite having the AC blasting in your room. What happens next is a blur and you wish you could say it was the summer heat that’s beating down the people outside but you don’t even have that excuse at your disposal. Everything leading up to this moment was painstakingly crafted to make him come here but now that he is - it’s like you are losing the cords to the plan and are being tugged around by the viper in the underbrush.

Your days old sweats that are stained from your last meal are tugged down and off your legs - leaving you in a pair of boxers and a big t shirt. Somehow you end up on your knees with the edge of the bed at your chest and in between Oliver’s thighs. His shirt is pulled up and he can catch the way you watch him undo his belt with rapt attention. You look cite like this, he thinks and he tells you as such.

All he gets is that embarrassed frown he finds himself quite fond of and grins back. His pants are undone along with his belt and he looks at you expectedly.

“What?” You ask, voice quiet and filled with thinly veiled frustration. Oliver chuckles deep within his chest.

“You don’t get to waste my time by pulling these little stunts just to get fucked - make it up to me and then I’ll let you soak my dick for as long as you want.” It’s laughable how quickly you agree, trying so hard to show how eager you are for it like he can’t see how your hands tremble when they settle on his thighs to bring yourself closer to his crotch. You bring down the tops of his pants and take them down enough you can stripe his layer to reveal his cock. It’s hard and twitching - it always is when he's around you, it makes him laugh under his breathe watching your hand take him in the way you know he likes. Oliver coos down at you, giving you small encouragements as you begin to take him.

Usually he likes to drag things out especially with you.

He’s fond of making you wait, of dragging things out until the venom of lust has dulled your senses enough that he constrict you in his grip and swallow all that you are whole. The head of his cock is in your mouth, hot and wet and it makes him let out a wrecked laugh at how good it is after not having you since last time he had to come sort you out. His thigh comes behind your head, pushing it forward and making you take more than you prepared to. You gag, and Oliver laughs.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve doing this shit you know? Just cuz you’re so needy doesn’t mean you can go making trouble for your superiors.” He lectures you, serious despite the way he has his cock half way down your throat and you are so delirious that you aren’t even paying attention. He pushes your head a little further down and asks if you’re listening.

It makes his dick twitch when you nod your head with wide eyes, desperate for whatever he gives you.

“Not bad - guess a bad dog can still learn new tricks , yeah?” His hand comes to your head and grips what he can. He pulls you a little back, just enough he can see how well you shined the shaft of his cock with your mouth. Something so wicked and cruel and so mind-numbingly sweet dances in his dual colored eyes as he tilts his head to speak to you.

“Let’s see if you can learn how to beg for forgiveness now.”

[leeaaaell]

New York Nights

Heeseung

You decided to go on vacation with him for your 3rd anniversary. As you walked through the bright streets of New York, you talked about how cool it looked. When you turned to say something to him, you saw that he was already looking at you. He grinned at you .

"What were you going to say?'

Jay

You were looking at the city from the balcony of the luxury hotel and sipping your drink. When you saw him coming to the balcony, you left the drink on the small table in front of you. He sat next to you and lifted your chin with his finger and kissed your lips.

"Is the view good?"

Jake

You had left the mall and were walking towards the hotel. As you passed through the wide avenue with tall skyscrapers, you looked up in amazement and looked up at the tops of the buildings. Just as you were about to hit a street pole, he put his hand on your forehead and protected you, pulling you back.

"Look ahead, princess."

Sunghoon

You had held his hand and decided to go for a night walk, but You didn't wear a coat because you didn't think the weather was cold. Now you were walking with your hands freezing while holding his warm hands.He felt his hands were cold and put your hand in his coat pocket.

"I told you the weather was cold"

Sunoo

While he was chasing you on the street, you were running away from him with all your might and the only thing illuminating the area was the street lights.You forgot the lip balm he just bought on the bus. He suddenly grabbed your arm and kissed your lips.

"You are my lip balm until you get a new one"

Jungwon

It was late and you were yawning the whole way because you were sleepy. He suddenly picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist.You screamed at his sudden movement.

"You're like a sleepwalker"

Riki

You had been trying to take a photo exactly as he wanted, in front of a street pole, for about half an hour.But he didn't like it. He either didn't like the angle, the lighting or the pose.You finally got angry and dropped your phone on the ground, and as you walked away, he picked up his phone and ran after you. When he realized you were angry, he kissed your cheek and put his arm around your shoulder and continued walking.

"At least you have a very handsome boyfriend"

[daechvvitas]

GIRL MEETS EVIL | prologue

to escape her harrowing past, a young woman runs away to seoul and is taken in by the the owner of BANGTAN, the hottest club in the city. what seems like just a luxurious nightclub on the surface is actually a money laundering front for its true purpose: the stomping ground for the most notorious mafia in the region. and when the past comes back to haunt her, the seven members vow to do anything to protect her.

pairing(s): mafia!bts x bottle girl!reader (f) genre: mafia au, noir, angst, sm*t rating: mature, minors dni warnings: mentions of physical ab*se (not from the boys) word count: 1.1k

a/n: this has been an idea of mine ever since the butter concept photos dropped and now i'm motivated to finish it! this is just a small prologue/flashback to set things up. all of the boys will be featured in the next chapter!

MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER

january 2020, seoul

Seoul was made for the night time. A myriad of lights reflected off the skyscrapers and hanging signs. The air was filled with laughter from pedestrians, watch where you’re going! from drivers, and a cacophony of music. Sleep-deprived university students wandered down the sidewalks, on the hunt for study fuel. Meanwhile, the hedonistic and the reckless drunkenly bounced from one bar to another without a care in the world.

And then, there was you.

Somehow, you managed to find a quiet spot amongst the bustling activity. Your frame, worn down from hunger and exhaustion, was just barely propped up against the brick wall in the dark alleyway. Shallow breaths slipped from your lips, eyes fluttering open and close to try and keep yourself awake. But it was too damn hard. An almost unbearable pain radiated through your ribs. He’d broken them, that was for certain. Or at the very least, sprained.

Just the mere thought of him was enough to send you into a panic. Tears began to fall. Teeth slicing into your inner cheek, you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to quell your ever-rapid beating heart. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you ever again. The words weren’t as comforting as you hoped. It was a lie, after all. You weren’t safe. If there was anything this cruel world had taught you in nearly twenty-three years of living, it was that you would never be safe anywhere.

"What are you doing?"

The unfamiliar, masculine voice jolted you into alertness, but the bruised ribs kept you from making a run for it. Another surge of panic overtook you. It may not have been him but that didn’t lessen the fear. The voice still belonged to a man and that was more than enough reason to beware.

Blinking rapidly to clear your blurred vision, your wide eyes landed on the tall shadowy figure standing a few feet away. His face was hidden by the shitty lighting, even as he slowly began to approach. Ignoring the pain, you slowly curled your legs into yourself, rendering yourself into a ball of protection from the unknown source.

"I’m not going to hurt you."

You bit back a humorless laugh. How many times had you heard that before? You’d just escaped the last man who promised you that.

"Don’t... D-Don’t come closer." Those were the first words you’d spoken in a day. They scratched at your throat unpleasantly.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone—"

The man’s voice trailed off as he stepped close enough to get a proper look at you. He exhaled sharply, his entire body suddenly rigid as he took the sight in. Your ribs weren’t the only thing bruised. Under the left eye, a harsh purple-red discoloration marred your skin. Your lips were swollen beyond its limit, dried blood caked over the bottom. Hair that reached your mid-back was currently matted down by sweat and dirt. You felt mortified to be witnessed like this.

"Who did this to you?"

He was angry. You dealt with enough angry men in your past to know exactly what that sounded like. As he knelt before you, you flinched, preparing yourself for a blow to the face. But one never came. Instead, you in return caught your first sight of him as he stepped into the light. Even at your eye level, his tall stature couldn’t be ignored. Silence fell between you two as you took him in. His dark, draconic eyes were narrowed in suppressed rage.

It should have been a terrifying sight, but it was strangely beautiful. Just like him.

"What’s your name?" He asked.

You felt compelled to tell him, but you remained silent. Trust was not something that you could hand so easily onto a plate. You’d done it before and it did nothing but land you here. He nodded, seeming to understand your hesitation. It was almost eerie how gentle he was being. Almost as if he knew that one sudden move would cause you to crumble all over again.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to."

His eyebrows furrowed in concern. The controlled calm he had over the conversation was admirable to witness. In comparison, you felt like an embarrassingly fragile little thing. You were all raw, devastating emotions while he was steadfast and firm. He clenched his teeth, the muscle flexing beneath his sun-kissed jaw. The small movement caused the collar of his expensive dress shirt to shift, exposing a huge, jagged scar on his neck. Your eyes widened, wondering how deep and far the cut ran. He noticed instantly and his expression clouded, fixing the collar to cover the healed wound once more.

“Guess we’ve both been hurt.” He piped up in a cryptic tone. As if he was trying to coax a morbid laugh from you. It didn’t work. Instead, you felt your heart sink. Someone had hurt him — just like someone had hurt you. You couldn’t help but wonder who or why. But that wasn’t a question you dared to say out loud. As beautifully phlegmatic as he appeared, he was still a stranger to you. You never knew what could change his expression of worry into one of fury. And you had zero desire to find out.

"My name's Kim Namjoon. You don’t have to speak, but let me help you. You’re obviously cold and hungry." He offered. "You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you ever again."

You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you ever again.

A chill crept up your spine, hearing him repeat the words you’d just said to yourself. You wondered if it was a sign from a god you didn’t even believe in. He said the statement with all the confidence in the world. It felt like a silent vow at the altar. Kim Namjoon made you want to believe that he could actually protect you.

"O-Okay..." You whimpered out with a slow nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to express your consent. Namjoon gave you a gentle smile in response. You could tell by the way it shyly formed on his features that it was a rare gesture. And yet, he decided to give you one.

You hoped the smile would be the first of many.

[stealth-liberal]

So, it's that time again, the anniversary of 9/11. Two years ago, on the 20th anniversary, I wrote an essay about the Twin Tower jumpers and how we as a society have refused to look their fear and pain in the face and hold it.

Now, it's been 22 years since that day and my thoughts go elsewhere. Now I am thinking about legacy and remembrance. Honoring the dead. How do we fully honor the 3,000 people who were killed that day? Because I have some serious issues with how that has played out over the last 22 years.

I was in my 20's when 9/11 happened, and I was in the Marine Corps, so, as you can imagine, it changed my life, and not a single one of those changes was positive. Right now though, it's not what I want to talk about.

We say never forget, always remember, but how are we doing that. By dooming ourselves to what was 20 years of unending war? That doesn't sound like a good memorial.

I never had an issue with the war in Afghanistan. We were attacked Pearl Harbor style, and that was always going to end the way it did. But the war in Iraq? It made me an angry liberal. I had never been conservative, and I joined the Marine Corps to pay for college, we had been at peace for So Many Years that I guess I didn't really think that could change. The war in Iraq was criminal, though. Dubya and his cronies whipped our pain and our grief into a storm and used it to help him LIE to Congress (both sections) so he could get his war. Afghanistan had no natural resources besides poppies for opium that would benefit the war profiteers. They were strategically placed, but that was it. Iraq? Iraq had oil and Haliburton, Chaney, Dubya, Condoleezza Rice, and the rest made So Much money. Billions were made, and billions were "misplaced." Congress was given false intell reports so they would vote for the Iraq War. The fact that no one went to jail for that scarred me. They lined their pockets, and my friends came home in body bags because they SOMEHOW didn't have the money for proper body armor. I will never forgive them for that.

So... It's not a very good way to remember the 3,000 who died on 9/11. Perhaps the worst memorial of all time. Dubya shackled us to pain and grief, and no one was allowed to recover. Least of all the families who lost people. They were paraded for the cameras to be used, and looking back on it, it was sickening. How could they do that to families and the survivors? Why?

I mean, intellectually, I know why. Emotionally, I will never understand it. The survivors and the families deserved to recover. We, as a nation who witnessed the horror, deserved to recover. But recovery meant no profit. Recovery meant no Iraq War. Recovery meant Halliburton might not make quite as much money. So we all stayed traumatized, unable to move forward.

And here it is, 22 years later. How should we honor the 9/11 dead and the survivors? Well, I have a few ideas.

1. 3,000 people died that day, but it could have been less. Why? Both the Twin Towers and the Pentagon had structural and safety issues that made something catastrophic even worse. The Twin Towers did not have enough emergency staircases for it's size. All skyscrapers were supposed to have 4 staircases in case they ever needed to be evacuated. Both Towers only had 2, and the why of that is rage inducing.

You see, 4 staircases meant less floor space, which meant less desk space, which meant less ability to charge businesses higher rents. So money changed hands when the towers were built, and the number went down to 2 emergency staircases. This was a decision that was heavily criticized at the time, and many in the trades predicted disaster.

When the 1993 bombing of the Twin Towers happened, the towers stayed standing, and the 2 missing staircases weren't a problem. Everyone thought all was good. To be fair, NO ONE ever thought a terrorist group would fly a jumbo passenger jet into each tower. No skyscraper was built with that eventuality in mind. They are now, though.

When the planes hit the towers, each tower lost access to elevators and 1 staircase each. Now, both towers had to be fully evacuated with just that one staircase. It wasn't enough, and survivors have all spoken about how everyone was jammed into the stairwells going down those stairs one at a time at a snail's pace. It's a miracle as many people actually survived as they did.

The South Tower was hit more on the side, so some people above the impact zone were able to get out. The North Tower was not so lucky. It was hit head on, everyone above the impact zone was doomed, and they knew it. It's why so many of them chose to jump once faced with what was no real choice to begin with, burn, or jump to their deaths.

Had there been enough staircases, had there been 4 instead of 2, many more people would have survived. So I think a suitable way to never forget the people who died in The Twin Towers is to enact legislation so that never again can a skyscraper be built without proper emergency egress/staircases in case of an evacuation. Any skyscrapers without enough staircases are brought up to code so that if the worst happens, as many people can be saved as possible. That seems a fitting memorial.

The Pentagon was built like a fish trap, the idea was if an enemy somehow got in, they would never get out. No one ever factored in the notion of a jet being flown into the building, most of the inner ring collapsing and massive explosion damage and fire racing through everywhere. There are many stories of people pounding on the glass and not being able to get out.

Thankfully for the people at the Pentagon, they were not in a skyscraper, and first responders were able to find ways to get to them. But they couldn't and didn't get to everyone. So I think a fitting memorial to the Pentagon dead that day would be to make sure no building is so secure that you can't get out, can't truly evacuate, if the catastrophic happens. When a building is on fire, everyone deserves the best possible chance to get out and get home alive.

2. The first responders of 9/11 were the heroes of that day. I think we can all agree that the very definition of heroic is running back into a collapsing and/or burning building determined to save just one more life. So many first responders died that day doing the best they could to save lives. The ones who survived were harrowed to their bones.

The people who worked the wreckage of both sites, who collected what was left of human remains. Who bit by bit picked up the wreckage and tried to heal two cities with the labor of their hands. These people were also heroes, and anyone who says differently is just wrong.

They were told it was safe, and they were told we would take care of them. However, it wasn't safe. Both of these groups of people have had massive health complications ever since from the toxins they were immersed in for days, weeks, months, and even years. The dust alone caused so much lung damage.

Then, to add insult to injury, a Republican congress tried to take away their health benefits, to leave them twisting in the wind. These ghouls left the ACTUAL heroes of that terrible time in chronic illness, terrible pain, and in many cases tried to let them die. Why? Because they were too cheap to spend a dime on these people. John Stewart basically had to retire from The Daily Show to shame Congress into taking care of these people.

On the 17th anniversary he gave a blistering speech to them and I paraphrase here: "17 years ago, they acted heroically and did their jobs. They did their jobs! NOW DO YOURS!"

You want to know the very best way to remember the first responders who died in 9/11? Take care of their brothers and sisters who survived, their brothers and sisters who spent years working The Piles. None of these people should EVER pay so much as a dime for their health care ever again. For the rest of their lives. Period.

This is how we should memorialize them, this is how we never forget. Not chaining us to a never ending cycle of pain, despair, and anger. Not lying to us to get a second war that no one needed. Not war profiteering and then calling it patriotism. Not terrorizing our Muslim citizens. Not taking away our rights, not trading our civil rights for the illusion of safety.

This is how we make peace with the horror of what happened. This is how we move forward and let the memory of the dead be a blessing.

[hypothermic-dream]

The city stretched before him, a labyrinth of honking horns and flickering neon signs, each light a malignant tumor in the decaying flesh of urban sprawl. This wasn't a city; it was a festering wound, an obscene monument to humanity's insatiable greed and relentless decay. Every face he saw, every laugh that scraped against his ears, felt like a personal insult, a cruel reminder of his insignificance in this world—a rigged casino, a den of inequity where he was the sucker, lured by the false promise of fortune, pockets empty and soul sucked dry.

The air hung thick with the stench of exhaust fumes, rancid sweat, and desperation, a putrid miasma that mirrored the churning pit in his stomach. This place wasn't built for people like him, just another expendable cog in their infernal machine, destined to be ground to dust and discarded when they found a shinier replacement. The skyscrapers loomed like tombstones, casting long shadows over streets slick with rain and regret, a sprawling necropolis where dreams came to die.

Each morning, he woke to the taste of ash in his mouth, a bitter reminder of the countless battles he'd already lost. His body was a roadmap of past mistakes, every scar a self-inflicted punishment etched in angry red. He was a barely contained explosion, a walking disaster on the brink of implosion. Looking in the mirror was an exercise in futility. The reflection that stared back held the same contempt he felt for the world, a bitter cycle of self-loathing reflected in hollow, dead eyes.

"Hope?" He spat the word out like a rotten piece of fruit. "Hope is for suckers who haven't learned the game is rigged. They dangle that carrot in front of you, just to keep you chasing until you drop dead." His voice was a low growl, a barely controlled snarl of disdain. "This world can keep its happy endings. I'll take mine served on a bed of nails, with a side of betrayal." A surge of dark energy coursed through him, a twisted desire to burn it all down—this city, this world, everything that had brought him to this point. Maybe from the ashes, something new could rise, something forged in the fires of his rage and despair.

The streets were lined with the broken, the forgotten, those who had been chewed up and spit out by the merciless gears of Capitalism. Their eyes were vacant, their faces gaunt, shadows of the people they once were. He walked among them, a kindred spirit in this gallery of the damned. The buildings around them crumbled, their facades cracked and peeling, as if the very city itself was giving up, succumbing to the relentless march of entropy.

Every corner held a new atrocity: a man begging for scraps beneath a billboard promising luxury, a child sifting through garbage for something to eat, the distant wail of sirens a constant reminder of the ever-present chaos. The rain fell in sheets, a relentless deluge that did nothing to cleanse the filth but only seemed to smear it around, creating rivers of sludge that flowed through the gutters.

Then there were the aristocrats, the parasitic elite who strutted around in their tailor-made suits and designer dresses, their fake smiles and hollow laughs echoing through the corridors of power. They pretended it was all good, their every word a lie, their every gesture a mockery. Their laughter was a cacophony of hypocrisy, a parody of joy. They drove their luxury cars past the homeless, their tinted windows hiding their disdain, as if the suffering outside was just another piece of scenery to be ignored. They dined on gourmet meals while children rummaged through garbage for scraps. They wore their wealth like a shield, oblivious or indifferent to the agony their privilege inflicted on the rest of humanity.

Yet he pitied them, too, these aristocrats. Their wealth was a prison, their lives as hollow as those of the destitute. They, too, were victims of the same merciless system, trapped in a cycle of meaningless excess, unable to see the futility of their pursuits. Their luxury was but a thin veneer over a chasm of despair, their laughter masking the same existential dread that gnawed at his own soul.

There was no escape from this urban hellscape, no respite from the crushing weight of existence. The world outside was no better; nature itself had turned against humanity, withering and dying under the toxic assault of progress. Forests burned, oceans choked with plastic, the air thick with the poison of industry. Humans were parasites, sucking the life from the planet and each other, too blinded by their own hubris to see the precipice they were hurtling toward. And in this grand theater of misery, he saw the futility of it all, the shared suffering of both the poor and the rich, each bound by their own chains, each marching toward the same inevitable end.

[izvmimi]

cw: brief nsfw. minors dni. cheating reader, complicated relationship dynamics, a part 2 to nova’s ( @raichijingos ) fic calling twice.

Izuku watches you carefully as you finish up your conversation with Katsuki, and once you hang up the phone, a sweet, complacent smile on your face, he crosses his arms over his chest loosely, a bit of trepidation evident on his face.

“I’m a bit impressed and disturbed by how convincing that was.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

This question is posed with your voice a little too light, and therein lies the insecurity and hurt festering in the pit of your stomach. Izuku stands a bit closer, but doesn’t hold your hand. Not yet, at least. For now, the two of you stand in front of the imposing skyscraper where your cheating partners supposedly work, and most likely fuck just as much, and you wonder if the building grows just a bit larger.

“I think I shaved a few years off my life in that one minute pretending not to be angry,” Izuku mumbles as you start to walk through the glass doors. You’re still angry too, you think, perhaps because denial is no longer feasible at this point in time, especially since you’re now standing in the same building where your so-called friend opens her legs for your partner.

She’s in the room now, you think and you grit your teeth. Will she get her clothes back on by the time you make it up the elevator?

Izuku obtains wristbands and directions from the receptionist and returns to where you stand, handing you one tentatively. You notice the slight hand tremor and frown. Your own heart is steady for now.

“Calm down,” you tell him suddenly. 

He blinks, then looks away. “Yeah.”

“We’re even,” you murmur under your breath. You can see him dry swallow, as he remembers that just last night he was balls deep inside you in your hotel room, and probably can fill up a notebook or two with the exact tones your voice makes when you cum. 

“Perhaps.”

You shoot him a look and he says nothing more. Now you are the one shaking, you realize as you press the elevator door close key four times in rapid succession. It won’t make the elevator move any faster. It won’t negate the fact that Bakugou has fucked your friend a countless number of times. It won’t change anything.

You still have his stupid ring on your finger. You also wonder if Izuku still has the engagement ring he’d planned for his unfaithful girlfriend burning a hole in his back pocket. It’s pretty like yours. Pretty and worthless. 

You remember how he cried when you, without thinking, immediately marched over to his hotel room and told him the news. Still furious, not able to forget the fact that you could see the very obvious pair of women’s panties in the corner of the image in the bedtime selfie he’d sent you, and even worse, the fact that your so-called friend had acted oddly to the suggestion that he could, perhaps, be cheating on you. She was a god awful liar.

If it hadn’t been her, a witch hunt would have ensued immediately. And yet, she pretended to be exhausted and had been desperate to re-address it in the morning. 

And never called that morning, nor this morning.

In retrospect, you should have known. She was always around, always too invested in Katsuki’s whereabouts, and called him her evil twin. Funny how willing she was to fuck family, really?

So you did the same. Izuku was more a brother to you than anything. But pain is as pain does, and you had needed to do something, anything to regain control over the situation.

And while you couldn’t pretend it completely eased the hurt, you have to admit you liked it. Like indulging in forbidden fruit, there was a subtle thrill in it once the endorphins rushed in along with all the heat to your pussy lips, along with the drag of his thick cock against your walls. There was something cathartic about the release, the idea of someone, anyone holding you tight, burying their head in your chest, stretching you wide. Being wanted, being wanted, being wanted. 

Would it hurt her to know that you could play so dirty the same way it hurt you? To know that you were sharing without each other’s knowledge, neither the true fool?

Or was this her plan all along? A decoy, so to speak. 

The elevator door opens on the floor, and you no longer have any time to ponder, the ding of the bell so loud you think you can hear it in your throat. There’s a feeling that seems like disembodiment as you walk out. You’re not paying attention to Izuku behind you.

Down the hallway, where you’ll turn right into his office as directed, you can see her step out first, followed by Katsuki right behind her. Her eyes make contact with yours and her lips pull into a weak, half-hearted smile.

And you see red.

[sciderman]

since we're here in osborn hell, here's one of my favourite little chapters from it came from outer space! with one rare appearance from one norman osborn

Peter could throw up. 

With how mad he was, he could tear through concrete like tissue. 

It was everywhere. 

Everywhere he looked. 

Every tabloid. Every sleazy celebrity magazine. Every news outlet. 

Harry Osborn. 

Son of billionaire scientist Norman Osborn and heir to Oscorp, 23rd largest company on Forbes’ Global 2000 list. 

Gay. 

Like it’s such a fucking big deal. 

Harry was being jumped on by everyone. Everyone wanted a ride. Everyone wanted to point and heckle. 

Caught in the act, with some big-name fashion model Peter’s never heard of. 

High cheekbones, and a sprinkle of freckles. Tight cherub-like curls. Legs for days. 

Carved by Michaelangelo. 

Peter burned with envy. 

Peter bit that down, and focused on Harry. 

His best friend. 

Publicly outed. 

The million-dollar photo, printed in every paper.  

Harry’s hand shielding his face. Hiding his eyes from the camera. 

Peter tore the paper to shreds. 

Peter Parker had spent his whole life hiding. 

Harry Osborn didn’t have that luxury. 

Peter had wondered if Harry had even tried. 

Red marks circling his neck, and going about his day. He didn’t seem to care who saw. 

It wasn’t a big deal. 

Spider-man momentarily stumbled over his feet as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. A beeline to Oscorp industries. 

Harry wasn’t taking interviews. 

In fact, he’d disappeared from the radar all together. 

“Oscorp Industries will not issue a statement at this time, but would like to assure stakeholders that Harold Osborn will step away from the public eye.” 

Typical. 

So fucking typical, that they’d try to bury Harry like this. 

Take everything they’re ashamed of and sweep it under the rug, like it never happened. 

“I need to talk to Harry. Harry Osborn.” 

Peter’s fingers frantically drummed the desk of reception. His heart was racing. Thrumming in his ears. He’d attribute it to the pace at which he swang across the city to get here. All the blood in his head left his limbs numb. 

“I’m sorry, Harry Osborn isn’t here. Can I take a message?” 

“No. No. I’ve tried that already and they don’t –” 

Peter released his grip from the counter when he noticed the faint cracking sound under his fingers. 

“I need to see him. I’m – I’m Peter Parker.” Peter said, unsure if that meant anything at all to anyone. “I’m his friend.” 

The receptionist offered a sympathetic frown. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Parker, but without an appointment I can do very little apart from try to pass on your message.” 

Peter stepped back, throwing hands up in defeat. 

“Thanks.” 

Normally that would be the end of it. 

Peter should just go home and forget about it. 

It’s not his problem. 

Peter backed towards the wide, glass doors of the Oscorp building. 

Before he sprinted, a mad-dash, leaping over the key-card terminal that granted employee access. 

“Mr Parker!” 

His sneakers skid as he made way to the elevators, frantically pressing the button. 

A team of three security guards came on the approach. 

Stairs it is . 

Peter slipped fast to the stairway, racing up the steps, three at a time. 

More cardio than Peter would’ve ever liked to do in one lifetime, and he was still catching his breath from swinging here. But the suit made him stronger. Made his bounds lighter. Pushed him forward, faster. 

He’d lost the three initial security guards floors below – they didn’t have the superhuman stamina to climb a skyscraper. But more guards found him on higher levels, jumping him. 

He threw one against the wall. One sent flying through the door they came through. One backing away, clearly not paid enough to be tossed around a stairwell by an angry 20-something out for blood on a Tuesday afternoon. 

More guards at every level. Couldn’t slow him down. Peter barraged through them unrelentingly. He moved too fast. He lept and dodged, feather-light on his feet. 

One guard knicked him with a taser. 

He didn’t feel it. 

He grabbed it and ran, snapping it in half. He threw it down the stairwell, narrowly avoiding someone’s head. 

He didn’t care what damage he wrought. 

He didn’t care about anything, but reaching the top. 

“Peter.” 

He was greeted as he burst through the doors of the executive level of the Oscorp building. 

Norman Osborn. 

“If you wanted to talk, you need only make an appointment.” Norman said, civilly. “You know we’ll always accommodate you here, Peter. You’re family.” 

Family.

As if Norman even knew the meaning of the word. 

Guards stormed into the room after Peter, grabbing him by the shoulders and arms. As if that was enough to hold him back. 

Peter didn’t startle. In fact, his glare didn’t leave Norman at all. 

Norman looked at Peter with a fascination in his eyes. An uncomfortable fascination that made Peter’s skin – both of them – crawl. 

Maybe it was a common Osborn trait.

The ability to undress Peter Parker with their eyes. 

Peter was too mad to overthink it. 

Too fired up to consider how a lanky 21 year old being able to effortlessly rush past high-grade security in a multi-billion dollar corporate building might raise suspicion. 

“I won’t press charges, Peter.” Norman said, with a perfectly civil smile. 

Peter could wholeheartedly believe he had the teeth of a shark hiding behind it. 

“You’ve always been like a son to me.” Norman continued, “And a brother to Harry. I know you care, so deeply for him. And I appreciate that. We both do.” 

“Where did you send him?” Peter stepped forward. The staff detaining him could barely keep a hold of him. “Where is Harry?” 

“He’s an adult, Peter.” Norman said, in an unbearably patronizing tone of voice.  “He can make the responsible choice to leave for himself.” 

“You didn’t send him away?” 

Peter thought back to that afternoon in 2004. Waving as Harry got into a car that would steal him away to a European Boarding School for the worst years of Peter Parker’s life. 

“He did it of his own accord.” Norman said, coolly. “He had enough reason to.” 

Peter didn’t believe him. 

“It was such a shame to see you two falling out,” said Norman, in patronizing pity. “You were so close.” 

Peter charged at Norman, unable to stop himself. He’d lost all vision. All sense of self-preservation. He’d managed to grab Norman by the front of his suit before he was torn away by security. 

Peter let them pull him back. 

“He’s your son, Norman. You can try to bury him, but he’s part of you.”

Peter delivered the kind of look that only a man who had the power to snap another man in half could deliver. 

“And everything comes to the surface.” Peter spat, as he was escorted away. “Eventually.” 

Norman smiled. 

“I think you might be right about that, Peter.”

[lesfir]

This is the kind of post that become a flight of thought and reasoning with a bit of hc. The Break Up with Lord Astarion Like: Asc Astsrion dickpic photo of a drunk ex - behavior nah well if drunk... still nah+meh Astarion has centuries of seduction experience. His brains aren't so smooth as to send Tav a "dickpic" in hopes of attention and success. He'll come up with a really nice and neat plan to get Tav to come to him on their own. He's got time. It's AU meme modernity ofc. It's hard to work. Without context, Astarion loses a lot. The medieval, vampirism and slavery is a big context. Depends on how painful it was. Let's say it went okay, a little uncomfortable, but normal. In modern times, if Tav was kind, he'd be something charitable, showy. For Tav and good for building influence, too. For love of the people. If Tav was more evil. He'd be doing something extravagant, still logical. Looking like a fool is not a best seduction tactic. For a good Tav, he'd create parks in the city, and support the arts, charities. For the evil Tav, he would seek influence in closed circles so that those she knows about (admires) would talk about him and his deeds like new skyscraper-hotels with casinos. In any field he would quickly become famous: a beautiful man with refined taste. Speaking of the Middle Ages, in Faerun. Depends on what Tav is interested in, it's magic - the best relics from around the world in Baldur's Gate. New opportunities for mages from all over Faerun. Come to Baldur's Gate. Warfare - don't even ask. Fella will climb into any dragon lair on his own to get to impress. (And have some fun). Astarion despite having goals, would quite enjoy and discover new things in the world. In general, he would get his way. I don't think it's even canonically obsessive, that you can't get off once, like a frenzy, nah.

He'd remember his personal plans, he'd party a lot, he'd be sad sometimes that Tav couldn't share the fun with him. Eventually he was able to taste the food again. There was so much around that he couldn't for 200 years. Seriously he would eat 10 kinds of desserts and enjoy them, forgetting everything. I prefer it when Tav loves everything and shares eternity, pleasures and decadence, the line of play. In this line-breakup I'm more interested in the “partners in crime” that Lord Astarion suggests. That's the fun line of the game.

Here, if Tav friendly agrees, he definitely:

Kinda Friendship Zone. But Astarion is ok with it.

-- Everyone on the Sword Coast thinks they're having an affair. -- He very often emphasized in the beginning that Tav was his friend, like a little poke. But he stopped doing that when Tav returned the favor. -- Astarion feels the need to touch Tav's hand. In general, touching Tav makes him feel better. This Tav is also tactile, she needs to touch someone she likes, someone she is friends with. -- That Tav is a druid. She turns into a frog if Astarion goes too far. And starts croaking. A thing that makes him angry, sad and happy. -- Astarion crosses the lines of edgy flirting while dancing. -- Sometimes Astarion thinks dark thoughts, but he always just thinks them. He has time. To lose her smile is to be a fool. -- He always sulks for about three days when their temprs clash. But that doesn't happen very often. This Tav is as calm as a toad in the sun. -- Surprisingly. He was so greedy for her time, literally, but he'd only gently invite her to join him - for a party, a walk, on a ship to Calimport. Tav had said no a few times. Needing to keep her distance, not to spoil the greedy dragon. And he'd just go like a cat and she'd be bored while he got the fun of traveling. He brought back souvenirs. But she would have liked to see his smile the first time he looked at this town. -- No friend in the Realms gets gifts like Tav. -- His legions of crows are on duty outside her house. Tav didn't mind, she didn't have the best opinion of the world anyway. They were showing up together, these rumors... who need to prick him, will prick her. -- At sunset they often walk together in the parks in the Upper City.

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Welcome to Heaven

Chapter 01

"Welcome to Heaven!" Emily shouted, arms spread wide. With a beaming smile on her lips and full of excitement, she fluttered in front of the three sinners and her sister, up and down along the gold-paved path. "My name is Emily, but you can call me whatever you like! I'm so happy to see you here. I can barely believe that Charlie's idea really worked. You three are the first here and we're gonna-"

"Emily!" Sera interrupted her sternly. She could feel the worried looks of the heavenly residents resting on the strange figures of the three new arrivals as she led the small group into Heaven through the back door instead of the gleaming pearly white main gate. With a quick wave of her hand, she instructed her sister to be quiet. "Please calm down..." Sera sighed sourly as she skeptically studied the three sinners from head to toe, who followed her with slow steps and wide-eyed astonishment. Under all circumstances, their arrival had to go unnoticed. "I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding," Sera claimed. "These three sinners don't belong in Heaven with us."

"No, definitely not a misunderstanding!" interjected St. Peter. Frightened, he ducked his head as the head seraphim gave him an angry look. "Uhm... T-They… They're all on the list..."

"The list is wrong," Sera declared. She shooed the three sinners through the entrance of a gigantic skyscraper, which looked very much like a modern office complex on Earth, only much more luxurious with reflective marble floors and endless gold ornaments. A fountain with crystal-clear water splashed in the entrance hall. A receptionist jumped up quickly when she spotted the two seraphim, but Sera waved her off and headed for the nearest meeting room.

"The list is never wrong," Emily protested indignantly as Sera let the door slam shut behind them and turned the key.

"Outside these four walls, not a single word will be spoken by any of you about the arrival of these three sinners in heaven, do we have an understanding?" The head seraphim quickly pulled the heavy cloaks closed in front of the windows. She blocked out the strong sunlight and motioned to the three sinners to sit down at the table.

The three obeyed without a word or objection. Huddled close together, they dropped onto three chairs. Sera and St. Peter sat down opposite them with folded hands.

"Why?" Confused, Emily tried to understand her sister's decision. Three sinners had been redeemed from Hell and ascended to Heaven, which was great news. Emily had the living, foolproof evidence that Charlie's hotel worked. So why didn't Sera share her enthusiasm?

"Emily...," Sera warned her little sister, her tone ominous. "Do we have an understanding?" Sera repeated her question, looking sternly at her sister and St. Peter.

St. Peter nodded mutely, but Emily shook her head.

"What about Charlie?" Emily wanted to know with desperation. "I want to speak to Charlie straight away and tell her about the success of her hotel. Together we could-"

"No! I forbid you to have any kind of contact with Lucifer's delusional daughter!"

Shocked, Emily winced. Her shoulders slumped, her sister's harsh tone silencing her. She quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve to get rid of her tears. She stifled a sob of sheer irritation and dropped quietly onto a chair.

"St. Peter..." Sera sighed. She massaged her aching temples, she could already feel the headache looming. "Could you keep watch outside the door, please? This... delicate matter is not meant for untrusted ears..."

"Of course, Sera." St. Peter bowed to the head seraphim before hurriedly leaving the meeting room and standing guard on the other side of the closed door.

All the while, the three sinners had remained silent, too intimidated by the gold and the glitter and the presence of the arguing angels. Alastor had lost his smile, while Pentious looked around in bewilderment and Carmilla stared at her hands, her eyes downcast and lost in her thoughts.

"Uhm... what? What's going on here?" Carmilla asked, confused. She finally mustered up the courage to open her mouth and speak up. "Excuse me, Head Seraphim..." The sentence died on the tip of her tongue before she could get her question over her lips. She cleared her throat to regain her voice and perhaps her courage. Her brow was furrowed with deep worry. "Uhm... W-Why are we here? What list?"

"Yes? Why are we here?" Pentious repeated Carmilla's question.

"Because you're on the list!" Emily announced happily. She seemed to have regained her enthusiasm. "Every soul on the list gets to go to Heaven!"

With her arms crossed behind her back, Sera stood in front of the table, her expression grim. "I never thought it was a possibility that this silly hotel of Lucifer's delusional daughter would work and-"

"Hey!" Alastor interrupted the head seraphim. "Be careful what words you choose for Charlie!"

"And..." Sera gave the former radio demon an utterly dismissive look. "None of us were prepared for three redeemed souls of sinners to suddenly arrive at our heavenly gates... What is the last moment you can remember of your life in Hell?" Desperately, the head seraphim tried to keep the upper hand. She brushed the strands of hair from her face, a pathetic effort to hide her insecurity and ignorance.

Alastor huffed angrily, crossing his arms in front of his chest and turning his back to the head seraphim.

"That exorcist..." Carmilla whispered. Horror flashed in her eyes.

"Lute?"

"Yes... I think her name was Lute. I remember that Lute came crashing through the glass into my office, screaming loudly in anger... She spoke of revenge, then only blackness followed..."

"Yes!" Pentious confirmed. He had jumped up from his seat in agitation, his fingers clawing at the tabletop. "My last memories are hazy scraps of the battle for the hotel, then infinite blackness and the next moment I regain consciousness in front of the gates of Heaven."

“No…” Sera shook her head in total disbelief. "Why would Lute want revenge on a sinner? I will not have you lying to me..."

Carmilla lowered her head in disgrace. "At the last Extermination, I was forced to kill one of her sisters. I killed an exorcist to save my daughters' lives."

"That's it! I know why you're here!" Emily gasped in shock as three sinners and her sister looked at her with much bewilderment. She could no longer sit still at the table and started fluttering up and down in great excitement. "I am convinced that your deeds and your death were honest and absolutely selfless, so you have succeeded in redeeming yourselves and now you are here!"

"Uhm... I'm terribly sorry..." Carmilla interrupted Emily's enthusiastic rambling. Her face took on an unreadable expression. "I-I don't want to disappoint you, but... but I can't stay in Heaven, I have to go back to Hell..."

"Excuse me?" asked Sera. Did this sinner just dare to contradict her own redemption?

"I can't stay in Heaven, I have to go back to Hell," Carmilla repeated her words. "I have unfinished business there."

"What in Hell would be so important that you would wish to leave Heaven?"

"I have to get back to my daughters!" Carmilla growled in rage as her jaw clenched and her fingernails dug deep into the tabletop. Her hands tightened into fists.

Sera shook her head. "For now, your redeemed souls will not leave Heaven again. I can’t allow that…"

Before Carmilla could pick a fistfight with the head seraphim, Emily quickly intervened. "I suggest we postpone this discussion until tomorrow. We'll look for a solution to this problem together in the morning. In the meantime, how about we show you to your quarters to calm some of the heated tempers?" Accompanied by her sister, the seraphim led the three sinners out of the meeting room and to an elevator.

*

"Tada!" Smiling with pride, Emily spread her arms and spun in a circle as she showed the three sinners their quarters.

"What's this supposed to be?" Carmilla had her arms crossed in front of her chest, a sour grimace on her face and looked at Emily very suspiciously. She pointed to the high ceiling above their heads, the glassy windows, the bright sunshine that was blinding her and already annoying her, the shiny surfaces and the smooth marble floor as well as all the gold decorations.

Pentious marveled open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"For better or worse, the term 'quarters' is a vast understatement..." Alastor remarked. "I find the description 'royal' and the designation 'palace' much more fitting in the face of reality." He strode over to the window front and took a look out. "I should point out that we are housed on the top floor of this skyscraper. Alone and close to the Seraphims and away from the gaze of the rest of the residents of Heaven, aren't we?" he asked brashly.

"As rather special new arrivals, you will have to follow some specific rules..." The head seraphim ignored Alastor's provocation. She cleared her throat and began to list the rules. "Be prepared for these quarters to be under our surveillance the entire time. You will not leave these four walls without my orders and never alone. Under no circumstances will you speak a single word about your life on earth or in hell and I will not tolerate any swearing or violence towards the residents of Heaven. As long as you three sinners follow these simple rules, we will not get in any trouble with each other. I hope I've made myself very clear and you've understood me!"

"Uhm..." Pentious raised his hand cautiously. "How long are we not allowed to leave the quarters?"

"I emphasize again that the arrival of you sinners will remain under strict secrecy until we know if there is a misunderstanding. This situation is very special, no sinners have ever been redeemed from Hell before and to protect the souls of Heaven we must act with the utmost caution. For the time being, you will not leave these four walls or Heaven again... Either you comply willingly or I will personally ensure that you do..." With this threat, the head seraphim bid goodnight to the three sinners.

"Please let me know if you need something or just anything..." Emily gave the three sinners an encouraging smile before quickly following her sister out the door.

"Ay, dios mio..." groaned Carmilla as she closed the door behind the seraphims and leaned her back against the heavy wood. Exhausted, she sank to the floor. Her gaze fled to the window, to the white cotton clouds that shone in the burning colors of the rainbow in the light of the setting sun. She had last seen a sunset in her lifetime on earth, together with Odette and Clara. The sight made Carmilla wistful and the thought of her daughters brought tears to her eyes. "I don't want to stay in Heaven! I have to go back to my daughters... They're all alone in Hell!"

"I don't want to live without my precious eggbois!" Sobbing heavily, Pentious dropped to the ground next to Carmilla. He rested his head on Carmilla's shoulder, she allowed the crying snake to do so and patted his back comfortingly.

"If we want to find a way out of Heaven, then we have to stick together..." Alastor stood with his arms folded behind his back in front of the windows and was lost in the view of the sunset, letting his gaze wander over the endless sea of clouds.

"Is there even such a way out of Heaven for us?" Pentious wanted to know doubtfully.

"There must be a way!" Carmilla argued. She quickly pulled herself to her feet and held out her hand to Pentious. "Under no circumstances can we simply give up and leave our fate in the hands of Heaven, this seraphim! We must try to find our own way out of here and back! I want to try for my daughters!"

"I'm in," Alastor decided. He turned away from the window, his shadow growing longer in the fading light. "We all have unfinished business in Hell and want to leave Heaven again... I suggest we work together and form a rather atypical alliance for demons between the three of us." His two fellow prisoners concurred.

"Where do we start?" asked Pentious.

Carmilla thought for a moment. "I think our chances of an escape from Heaven will increase if we ask the younger Seraphim, Emily, for help..."

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump 8.5 (Extra per request)

No Anesthesia – OC&TBB – Wrecker’s overzealous efforts to destroy a building lead to Doc getting pinned in a dire situation.

Warnings: Very heavy whump in this one, with a couple moments of descriptive gore and medical procedures, impalement, difficulty breathing, near death, cursing. TW: claustrophobia

WC: 5116

Watching them work was a thing of beauty; the way they adjusted effortlessly to each other’s movements without the need for speech; how they seemed to glide over the debris-covered streets of this ruined city, strong limbs carrying them with an effortless grace that I could watch for hours. Unfortunately, the trio of elite soldiers darting toward the capital building weren’t meant to be the focus of my attention.

While Hunter, Echo, and Tech gave the appearance of charging the final stronghold of this decrepit city head-on, Wrecker was already traipsing about the far side of the towering structure with Crosshair perched in a nearby building as cover. I’d been positioned in the building just in front of the target, ordered to oversee this side of the battle to ensure our route back to the Marauder was clear.

“Does this mean I get a rifle, too?” My earlier tease hadn’t been serious, though there had been some knowingly futile hope. Crosshair’s dismissive, bored glance was all the answer I needed, but I caught the smirk that touched those thin lips as he’d turned away.

The pair of pistols offered a comforting weight at my waist, but, from this vantage, I was purely a pair of eyes. Sweeping the macrobinoculers away from the brilliant displays of prowess effortlessly dodging enemy fire, I searched the path back toward the ancient fungal forests lining the city, but the streets were empty beyond the occasional robotic limb ending in a tangle of wires.

“Wrecker, eta?” The growl of the Sergeant’s voice was a welcomed change against the terrible quiet from being so high above them, and I found myself automatically searching for flashes of black and red armor darting between mounds of rubble. Once, this had been a thriving metropolis, towering skyscrapers jutting up in stark contrast to the softer shapes of surround fungi as millions of everyday civilians went about their lives.

Now, barely a handful of towers still stood, but so many citizens remained, hiding, trying desperately to survive long enough to find some hope for the future. Taking out the opportunistic pirates holed up in the capital building would be the first step in granting them some chance to rebuild in the wake of what those ignorant to the horrors of war would call a victory.

“Ready when you are!” Wrecker nearly shouted gleefully, his excitement an instant boon to the oppressive quiet.

“We’re clear. Do it.” Hunter’s order barely finished before the world shook beneath a massive eruption. I felt my breath catch in my throat, macrobinoculars falling to my chest as I stared in shock at how slowly it fell; only noting a gentle tilt at first, but then, as though the structure itself merely gave it, the entire thing wilted. It sounded like rain from up there, the tumble of stone atop stone singing in the same cadence of an angry storm. Vaguely, I noted that the building now visible beyond where that tower had just been concealed Crosshair somewhere in those unending levels of dark glass.

“Wrecker, what in the karking hells was that?!” Hunter roared, and I could clearly picture the thick vein pulsing in his neck.

“Just, yuh know, figured I’d make sure”

“Kriff - Doc! Run!” What? Was that panic in Crosshair’s voice? He didn’t panic… he… I’d just forced myself to my feet, hands pushing atop the heavy medpack I’d been using as a rest when that first whisper of confusion stole over me. Moving… It felt like…

Dread. Cold and fast and flooding my veins with lead. The world outside the window was shifting, sliding, rising. It was easier to see it that way: like everything else was moving instead of me, because, if that wasn’t the case, if I was wrong… I was dead. My eyes darted back across that now empty space once more, as though there was some hope of finding those amber eyes, some hope that he might reveal a miracle to save me at the last second, but then I was cursing myself, feet scrambling beneath me to race away from the window lest I find myself falling through it.

The way my stomach flipped. The disorientating dance of unstable flooring beneath me was its own hell, but I didn’t stop, fleeing madly through the maze of corridors. How high up was I? Four stories? Five? How many seconds had it taken the capital building to finally plummet? How could I possibly reach anywhere remotely safe in time?

I could hear everything begin to fall apart. It didn’t sound like rain anymore. It was loud and relentless, and the dust filled the air too quickly for me to even realize I was suffocating beneath it until it obscured my sight barely a foot from my face. The floor began to drop, folding beneath the weight of an immeasurable mass of stone and metal overhead, tilting into such a steep angle, my feet began to slide out from under me, hands shooting forward for something, anything to grab onto. Something crashed against my chest as the last bit of solidity vanished beneath my toes, and the hurt of jagged edges burring between slats of armor didn’t matter because at least it wasn’t crumbling into the abyss below.

The desperation that drove me to cling to that ledge, the frenzy fueling my limbs as I scrambled up, and the sudden exhaustion in that exact second I realized I’d made it, body flopping onto my side as I dragged sharp gulps of air through my gaping jaw; it was all a mere blink of raw panic, and it robbed me of every thought and memory and dream until the distant hum slowly solidified into a voice.

“Doc! What’s your status?! Are you okay?!”  Hunter’s voice shouted from my comm. I watched my hand reach for it before my mind caught up with the motion, fingers trembling too violently to grasp the narrow cylinder for just a few seconds too long. “Doc!”

“I’m okay.” I found myself whispering, body painfully tensed, frozen, but the sharp relief in the chorus of sighs drew a small smirk to my lips. “I… I think I-” It was such a strange thing. I didn’t hear the floor crumble, nor feel that terrible weightlessness of falling… but I heard the tiny gasp; that quiet, sharp intake of air, and then the flood of indistinguishable voices flooding my comm was the only thing I could focus on as my body plummeted the handful of stories to the mess of rubble below.

-

“…!” What was that?

“…-ease say…thing…” Fading in and out.

“-oc! … me?!” Muffled.

“Over h…!” A rhythmic tabbing.

“… see her!” Maybe… water?

“Be care…! …unsta…” No… footsteps?

“Kriff.” It was the horror in that voice that finally breached the fog distorting what fleeting sliver of reality surrounded me. Crosshair… If he sounded like that… something must be wrong… couldn’t sleep anymore.

“Echo, Crosshair; get the Marauder here, now!” Hunter… needed to find out why he was so worried… “Wrecker, start clearing that debris off of her – carefully!” I don’t know how long my eyes had been fluttering listlessly against the distant thought that I needed to wake up – to help them, but only darkness continued to stare back at me. The sound of skittering pebbles seemed to reverberate all around me; couldn’t figure out where it had come from… couldn’t remember why it mattered. That familiar voice continued speaking in the darkness, but the words vanished in distorted murmurs and distant thunder.

I didn’t notice the weight until it shifted; some impossible pressure spanning across my chest, down my stomach, across my hips, pinning my left arm and leg fast against whatever frigid, uneven surface lay beneath me, digging into my back and calf. Once I felt it, however, it consume me; and I wondered how long my torso had been shuddering beneath failed gasps, body simply too weak to push against that heaviness and the agony even the slightest movement sent shooting throughout my chest. Drowning; stomach churning amidst the sharp tang of iron.

Something wrapped carefully around the back of my neck. A hand. I felt their fingers slip under my helmet to gently tilt my head up just enough to ease the bucket off, and my eyes slammed shut against the assault of blinding lights. Another touch quickly settled over me, blocking out that blinding brightness. Touch… I was… The terror of the reality surrounding me began to clear, and I wasn’t surprised by how violently I trembled.

“Can you hear me? Doc! Can you hear me?” Scowling against the fear and cold. the agony tearing through my lung, the burning of suffocation screaming for a breath I couldn’t force past shaking lips, still, I dragged my gaze to the dark visor only just visible over the edge of those fingers. My vision blurred, cringing against that terrible brightness once more as he quickly withdrew his hand to wrench off his helmet. Hunter…

“Look at me, Doc!” There was a fear in that order, but the touch of his palm slipping over my cheek was nothing if not gentle. My gaze just managed to find his when that weight shifted once more. My jaw trembled against a choked scream I simply didn’t have breath to voice, some useless wheeze catching in my throat as my body seized beneath the bursts of sharp fire burring through my chest, my leg; white-hot and so deathly wrong, it flooded my eyes with tears and sent my heart racing in panic.

“Careful!” Hunter barked, attention snapping up to someone I couldn’t see over the mound of rubble. Brows drawing together, I felt my blood run cold as some dreaded understanding washed over me. That rubble… trapped… I was-

“No-no; hey Doc, I need you to look at me, right now.” He forced the rushed words into some belated façade of calm, hand dragging my gaze away from the towering pile of metal and stone and destroyed belongings once treasured by now displaced citizens. I initially attempted to fight him, staggering mind fighting to make sense of just how abysmal my situation was, but whatever strength I once processed was quickly dripping onto the shattered remains of civilization laying beneath me, seeping over dust and debris in a crimson pool of stolen warmth.

“Listen to me,” That wasn’t an order, “Come on, Doc; just look at me.” He was begging… He knew how bad this was, and he was afraid for me in a way that consumed me. There wasn’t a damn thing I would do to fix this, and that realization was a nightmare I wasn’t ready to address… but I could do what he said. If only to grant him some vain comfort in the futile belief that he still held some sliver of control over this. For whatever time I still could, I would grant him that, and the encouraging smile that just touched his lips when my eyes found his once more was more than enough reason.

“Good,” He murmured, “The Negotiator’s already en route to meet us. After we get all this off you, we’ll have you in their medbay within the hour. You just need to stay with us until then, okay?” I couldn’t answer him beyond a tiny nod, chest still seizing beneath the shallow flutters of frantic gasps that I tried desperately not to count. I didn’t see Wrecker begin pulling at that final, massive chunk of debris.

White. Stopstopstopstop. Shouting. Nails bent as my fingers clawed into the stone beneath me. Muscles contracted, flailing, useless. Hearts aren’t meant to beat that fast. How could it be so impossibly cold even as that searing, shrieking, rending heat tore through my chest? The nerves were panicking. Everyone was yelling. My chest bucked, straining to cough, copper flooding my mouth, trickling down my cheek. It tickled, and some part of me knew it was blood.

“Stay with us! Dank farrik! Stay with us!” I could feel the air wash over my face as he screamed my name, hands grasping my cheeks just hard enough to ache in some desperate plea to draw my attention back to him. Floating. Like I’d somehow become disconnected. “No-no-no, Doc, please!” Even through the fear and pain and consuming need for even a moment’s reprieve, that terror in his voice is what ruined me. I felt my eyes moving, rolling blindly about the nothingness before me for several seconds before some hint of color slowly returned. Shapes. Movement.

“Good-good; you fight, dammit – you stay with us!” The relief in his order growled through clenched teeth.

“There appear to be rebar”

“I saw them, Tech.” Hunter snapped, but quickly forced himself to release a quick breath. “I know.” There was a silent apology in the sighed words. I could feel the tension seeping through my chest, robbing me of what minuscule whispers of air those worthlessly fluttered gasps could offer, but I forced my gaze to remain on the man still kneeling over me despite how my vision blurred and spun.

“She has a hemopneumothorax – air and blood are pooling in the pleural space causing her lung to collapse. I’ll have to insert a chest tube to relieve the pressure.” Wrecker should have interrupted him… Why didn’t he interrupt him - balk and the wordy description and mock his brother for overexplaining? I’d never wanted the normally loud and cheerful man to talk over that brilliant pilot before, but I would have given almost anything not to hear those words spoken aloud, body already tensing against the coming pain. Desperate pleas burned atop my tongue, forced into silence at the simple knowledge that it would only hurt them, and, still, Tech would have to push through.

“If it were one of us where you are,” Hunter started quietly, drawing my attention eagerly back to those dark eyes, “would you do any less?” Frowning through a scowl, something like sobs shook through me. Ass. My head shook weakly. If any one of them had been trapped in this nightmare, I’d stop at nothing to see them live another day.

“Didn’t think so.” He murmured before drawing a deep breath. “I want you to bite down on this.” Body heavy with a growing sense of exhaustion and helplessness, I had to strain to look for him. I think it was his glove, twisted inside-out into something of a ball. My jaw shifted listlessly, lips barely managing to part, and I could see the worry spike in those gorgeous eyes, but he said nothing about it, palm carefully whispering over my cheek as his thumb pressed against my chin to help me open my mouth enough for him to slip the wad of fabric and armor and a tang that I would forever associate with forests and dirt and something feral and utterly him between my teeth.

There was no warning. My body jerked against the violent intrusion of ice and hurt burring between my ribs, each panicked twitch of muscle tearing at the lengths of metal piercing my chest. Something pressed against me, pinning me down as my jaw clamped shut.

“Almost done.” The gentleness of that murmur ripped a fresh sob from me, and, a moment later, that sharpness digging through me stopped, fading into a terrible, throbbing ache. “Alright, you did good. Just breathe.” He praised, easing the glove from my lips. I wanted to scream at him that I couldn’t breathe. That my body was dying, and I didn’t want them to see me like this; that I was so, so terribly tired; that I just wanted to rest, if only for a moment, but my diaphragm jerked taut, wrenching a tiny gasp into failing lungs. It was the deepest breath I’d managed since waking, and part of me loathed that teasing glimmer of hope.

“We’re ready – why isn’t that thing off of her, yet?” Crosshair snapped.

“There are several lengths of rebar protruding from the bottom that have impaled her chest and leg.” I didn’t have to see him. I could hear his dread in the weight of his silence.

“Now that the Marauder is nearby, we must move quickly.” Tech prodded, and the weak, relentless tremble stealing through me grew violent. There was no thought beyond the desperate screaming of nerves still raw from the last time Wrecker attempted to free me from that final boulder, mind suddenly unable to remember anything beyond that pain, beyond the overwhelming certainty that I wouldn’t survive it again.

“Wait!” I gasped, straining to grasp some manner of clarity with which to plead my case, certain I could find a valid reason to somehow avoid the coming hurt, but I merely heard my terribly frail voice beg, “Wai-wait.”

“Doc, you know we can’t.” The apology in his voice broke me, wincing at how the sharp sob jostled the screaming flesh surrounding those metal stakes.

“Well… She’s got painkillers in that bag, right? We can give her those – take the edge off, at least?” Wrecker asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, anything we have that depresses the nervous system, also depresses the respiratory system; hers, of which, is already severely compromised.” Tech stated automatically. “Additionally, I am unsure where her bag landed, and have only what supplies I brought myself.”

“If we don’t hurry up, she won’t need painkillers.” Crosshair hissed.

“He’s right.” I watched the muscles ball over his jaws as the Sergeant looked over his shoulder to his brothers. “Crosshair stabilize her chest. Wrecker, lift it smoothly on his count. Tech, be ready with the coagulant.” Something passed between them in silence before the sniper quickly kneeled beside me, absently pulling the gloves from those skillful hands, and I hated the way that tremble redoubled at the simple realization that he was about to touch that ruined flesh.

“Don’t look at him, right now – look at me.” The rich smokiness of Hunter’s voice was a comfort in itself, but when it dropped into such a gentle murmur, if only for a moment, nothing else mattered, and I instantly found myself moving to obey him as he shifted to position himself between me and the others, blocking my view of their final preparations.

“You remember that little talk of us becoming settlers?” He was whispering, body just curling over me, and it felt so easy to pretend, to melt into any reality other than the one around me… I answered with a small nod. “The settlers of Clone Force 99 wouldn’t get very far without their medic… You going to abandon all that ruckus of city life to keep on adventuring with us?” The broken smile that pulled unsteadily at my lips held none of the terror and pain fighting to overwhelm me, but I could taste the sadness in it.

“Ca-can’t get r…rid of me…” I gasped on what useless huffs of air my ruined lungs could hold. He smiled back with that same threat of heartbreak before his shoulders jerked with a sharp breath, attention shifting briefly behind him. When he turned back to me, the dread in his eyes turned my blood to ice.

“Listen to me; we’ve got to get this thing off you – you ready?” I felt the automatic movement of my head shaking, trapped in some horrified denial that this was happening… but I knew there simply wasn’t time for that… Brows pulling sharply together, I turned hard eyes up to his, and I knew he saw how deathly afraid I was as I gave a firm nod. Again, he eased my lips apart to slip that glove between my teeth. “Alright. You just focus on me for a while, okay?”

Something slid between my torso and the mass of stone, and I could feel the shredded muscles twitching in some futile plea to escape. The knowledge that it was Crosshair’s fingers offered no relief. In a moment of yielding to that mounting fear, my arm lashed out, hand latching onto Hunter’s wrist.

“Hunter…” It sounded like I was pleading, begging around teeth already burring into his glove, and I hated it, but then his thumbs began dancing gently over my cheeks, wiping at tears I hadn’t noticed fall, and his touch was the only comfort in a nightmare of hurt. In that moment, I couldn’t fight the depth of my own need as I stared up at him.

“I know.” He breathed, remorse and guilt weighing each syllable.

I didn’t hear Crosshair’s signal. I didn’t hear the rumble of stone beginning to shift, nor whatever attempts at calming words fled those dancing lips as Hunter’s hands locked me in place. My back fought to arch, muscles thrashing for any relief, but Crosshair kept me pinned down. What useless wisps of air I’d held tried to escape in a barked scream, diaphragm seizing, but my throat closed too tightly even for that. My jaw snapped shut, eyes wide. Tearing. Ripping. Rending through me with such a violent sense of wrong and panic and cold.

“We’ll find someplace beside a river.” His lips brushed over my ear, cheek flush against mine, and I could feel how his fingers shook where they’d tangled into my hair. “Tech’ll design some overly fancy place to live, and I’m going to need you to deal with him and Wrecker bickering while we build it.” That sharp tang of copper… My chest bucked, but couldn’t manage to rid my mouth of that nauseating heat. “Echo and Cross can hunt so I can help you keep the peace.” I could feel the tissue drag against the textured ridges along the metal, felt them chip against my rib, and my stomach flipped. “Bet you can convince Cross to pick up knitting – make everything matching scarfs by winter.” Echoing… why was his voice echoing like that? I didn’t like the way it blurred with that horrid sound of churning meat, the wet sucking of floundering lungs; that distant thudding.

“…please.” My name sobbed from lips twisted into a scowl. “We’re so close, Doc; just hold on.” Hold on? Couldn’t… the very rigidity of my bones seemed to abandon me, jaw falling slack, body barely tensing beneath the occasional huff of a cough, but even that autonomic effort to clear my lungs enough to draw breath was failing.

Whatever relief that distant recess of my mind hoped to feel as that final inch slipped free fell frightfully silent. I felt how my body moved beneath freshly panicked touches and shouted orders; felt them push me onto my side as Wrecker’s massive hands shifted around Crosshair’s to apply pressure to the wounds; felt Tech began packing each puncture with foam, felt it sink through me and swell. I felt some fleeting attempt at a whimper choke over numb lips as Hunter held my head steady as though there were still some point to maintaining some semblance of support lest unseen injuries to my neck render me paralyzed, felt his lips continue that pleading dance against my ear before straining to make out his words.

“Just a few more, then we’ll get you out of here.” He promised. “Echo’s just outside. You hear me?” I couldn’t feel that hurt anymore. Not really. “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Doc. Not now.” But I could still fell his warmth. “We’re too damn close for you to give up now.” The calluses of his fingers. “One more – just one more.” What was… was he crying? I was certain I’d felt his shoulders jerk ever so slightly. “Please… stay with me.” I think I tried to move – to find those eyes; to show him I was trying…

“That’s it! Move!” Crosshair shouted. The way the world tumbled around me; the shock of sunlight robbing my already fleeting vision… I tried to listen; tried to find them through the distorted mockery of reality, but everything was spinning too quickly to find even a whisper of logic beyond the certainty that I knew I was as safe as I could possibly be in their hands, and I didn’t doubt that it would be enough.

-

Despite a lifetime in hospitals and medbays, still my nose crinkled at the sharp scent of antiseptic. The beginnings of a moan caught in my throat with a choked grunt of pain, body shuddering beneath the deep ache that bloomed in my chest.

“-sy; try not to move yet.” Echo… I’d know his voice even in a chorus of his brothers. Brows drawing together in a weak pout, I forced my eyes open, squinting slightly against the way the dim colors blurred. “Hey,” The greeting left in a huff that sounded like it desperately wanted to be a sob, “It’s good to see you back in the land of the living.” I let that pout pull up into a brief scowl, before offering a fleeting glimpse of a smile.

“We’re still aboard the Negotiator,” He explained quietly, lips settling into a gentle smile of his own as he stepped closer to my bedside, and I was pleased to find my vision slowly clearing enough to find those amber eyes. “Don’t push yourself if it hurts, but can you talk, yet?” Of course, I could, if only because he asked. Mouth parting slightly, I drew a purposeful breath, but let it out with a slight shutter, body hesitating beneath the foreign sensation that should have been commonplace.

“Yeah.” I managed on my second attempt, voice hoarse, but it easier than I’d anticipated, and the beaming grin it brought to Echo’s still pale lips was well worth the effort.

“Great,” He sighed in relief. “They had to replace parts of that lung, but the medbay here is topnotch – only had to keep you on bacta for a couple days before they’d grown enough to replace the damaged sections.” I listened passively to his explanation, not bothering to interrupt him with the reminder that I was intimately familiar flagship medbays.

“They’ll have regrown me a whole new set of lungs by the time this war ends.” I grumbled, heart soaring at the quiet chuckle it drew from him. “Wher- mgh.” I started, but the instant I tried to look around, the muscles around my ribs balked.

“Whoa – I said not to move.” He chided, expression twisting in a sympathetic grimace as he carefully laid his hand over my shoulder. I tried to do just that: to let my body melt back against the thin cot, but it was several seconds before those frantic muscles began to still.

“That’s it; easy.” He murmured quietly. I felt the chill sweep through me beneath the icy sweat that broke out over my skin, quickly soaking into my hair and the pale patient gown. “Might have a couple rough days of recovery ahead of you, but the hard part’s over.” He promised, “And we’re not going anywhere until you’re back on your feet.” The suddenness with which those words ripped a sob from me and flooded my eyes with tears should have surprised me, but, beneath the overwhelming rush of relief, I couldn’t bring myself to care, gaze darting back to him in a quiet gasp. His tongue swept quickly over his lips, expression mirroring the tentative hope bursting through my chest.

“Yeah – General Kenobi cleared it. Between him and Cody, there’s not really a lot of people high enough rank to overrule… so… we’re not going anywhere.” Finally, I merely let myself crumble amidst that relief, tears falling silently down my cheeks. His grip tightened slightly around me as he continued. “The others got kicked out – the medics here are pretty strict on the one-visitor rule, so we’ve been taking shifts.” I tried to show him the depth of my gratitude in the weak smile that tugged at my lips, and I didn’t doubt how clearly he understood.

-

I wasn’t sure when I’d fallen asleep, but it felt like I’d merely blinked before suddenly finding myself surrounded by the others. The beginnings of a chuckle quickly devolved into choked, painful coughs. Someone carefully pulled me up enough to lessen some of the strain, and I wasn’t surprised when Hunter’s deep voice whispered in my ear.

“Shh, if that control-freak of a medic hears you, he’ll kick us out again.” Despite my best attempts to hold it back, a fresh burst of laughter brought with it the same breathless coughs. Another hand gently swept along my back in a slow, soothing rhythm. Blurring eyes shifted to find Echo, lip caught between his teeth in worry. Too-quick breaths escaping in a painful wheeze, I slowly managed to regain some bit of control, body melting into the warmth of their touch.

“You lot look like shit.” I mumbled, noting the dark circles around their eyes, the way the normally rich gold of their skin appeared almost sickly even in the blessedly dimmed light. The collection of scoffs only fueled my weary grin.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” Crosshair said dismissively, arms looping over his chest, but even his lips hinted at a smirk.

“I don’t think any of us have gotten much sleep since we landed.” Hunter admitted, thumb shifting almost nervously over my shoulder. I let my eyes slip closed, head resting against him as my still quick breaths began to ease into something closer to normal.

“H-hey Doc?” Something about Wrecker’s hesitant call broke my heart. I quickly sought out those mismatched eyes and found myself mourning the sorrow in them. “I’m… I’m real sorry about… well, I should’a just followed the plan ‘stead of… yuh know…”

“Wrecker.” His name sighed through a worried frown, fingers of my right hand flaring in invitation. He paused for a mere moment before stepping forward, and, not for the first time, I silently remarked on just how small I was against him as he carefully slipped his hand around mine. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” I assured him quietly, but my words offered no balm to his guilt. “It was a mistake. You learned from it, right?” There was no judgement in those softly spoken words, and he offered a small nod. I instantly rewarded him with a broad smile. “Alright then.” I said simply, “lesson learned. I’m okay. You’re all okay… Nothing to forgive.”

“You mean it?” He pressed, still tensed as though expecting some sharp words, and I wanted so desperately to pull him to my chest as whisper promises and reassurances to him until he believed me.

“I mean it.” In the moment, however, those firm, loving words were all I could manage, but, at the relief that eased the tension from his shoulders, it seemed enough.

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