#the inhabitants of the cage are out at the moment so my dad could clean it out so i took the opportunity to take that photo

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Double feature

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Reunion Arc - Test Writing

As promised, here's the blurb I wrote to prepare for this arc! I may actually do this for the rest of the arc cause I don't like what I've sketched out for the end of it, as well as future arcs. It helped a lot with the pacing and making the scene as emotional as possible!

Raph was trying to pay attention to what Leo said, he really was - though a lot of it was just a nonsensical story about a dream he'd had. Half his mind was still cast on the issues from earlier. On how they just kept failing and failing. Meditating should have worked…it worked the first time they unlocked their ninpo and when they needed to break out of the cage and defeat Draxum…. 

So why couldn't Leo unlock his ninpo?

Was it the fact that he was just too little or that he couldn't meditate properly or that he just…still didn't trust them? But that couldn't be right, ‘cause he'd been acting like…well, like Leo around them again. He clung to all of them like the real- like Leo always had. 

Raph just wanted to scream and fight and hit something- but he didn't. He took a subtle breath in, held it, and let it out a few moments later. Calm down, Raph. You can hit something later. 

He didn't want to scare Leo, after all. 

He tuned back into the conversation, watching with faint amusement as Leo spoke animatedly about his dream, hands moving all over the place. 

He was saying something about ‘a purple Leo that was him but not him’ when he stopped, eyes wide. Raph noticed the staticky electric feeling before he turned and a bright purple light washed over the kitchen and all its inhabitants. 

For a brief moment nothing happened, everyone else turning in slow motion to see what was going on. 

Two figured emerged from the portal, the purple light blinding Raph so he could only see their silhouettes. One tall and one short. He recognized the short one in a second, and so did Leo, judging by the loud gasp and the clattering of his chair as he leapt down from the table and rushed over. 

Draxum's voice boomed over the kitchen, “ WHICH ONE OF YOU MISCREANTS SENT YOUR SICKLY FATHER TO BOTHER ME ON VACATION!?” 

It didn't seem to bother Leo, though, the boy rushing over to Splinter with a shout of “DADDY!” and leaping into their dad's arms. 

For a moment Raph was almost angry- Splinter didn't deserve a greeting like that after he'd ignored Leo during their last few phone calls. 

But he was jealous, too. He missed being small enough for Pops to hold like that. To hug like that. 

Splinter opened his arms and Leo ran into them, squeezing Splinter as tightly as he could manage. 

“ Oh, my little Blue….” Splinter sighed, voice nasally and exhausted, “ Were you good for your brothers?” 

Leo squeezed him tighter, tail wagging a mile a minute. He seemed to be so happy he couldn't contain it, little body trembling with the need to get the energy out. 

He barely moved out of the hug, shouting into Splinter's robe, “ I'VE BEEN SO SO GOOD AND I HOLDED MY SWORD TODAY ALL BY MYSELF AND STIRRED THE CURRY AND I MADE SURE TO-TO CLEAN UP ALL MY MESSES AND EV-EVERYTHING!” 

His voice shook as he yelled, stumbling over his words in his excitement. He couldn't seem to keep a happy chirp from leaving his throat either. the sound intermingled with his words. 

“And-and,” his little voice wobbled, no longer shouting, his claws gripping Splinter's sleeve tightly, “and I thought you got brainwashed and then I got s-sad and-”

Tears had begun forming, his beak trembling with the effort to keep them in, squeezing Splinter tightly. He didn't let them fall, though, claws shaking where he was trying to keep still. Like he didn't want anyone to worry that he was crying. Like he was afraid he'd make more of a mess of things. 

Then Splinter gently rubbed a hand over his shell and Leo burst into tears, pressing his face into Dad's robe and voice coming out in choked gasps. 

“ I WA-WAS SO SO SCARED!” He wailed, Splinter glancing up to give the rest of his children a concerned frown. 

“I WAS SCA-SCARED CAUSE YOU-CAUSE YOU- CAUSE WHO WAS GONNA TAKE CARE OF MIKEY AND RAPHIE AND DEE DEE IF YOU GOT BR-BRAINWASHED!?” 

Leo’s crying carried on, but his words were choked out by sobs. All he could do was let out a pitiful wail, even as Splinter tried to comfort him. He curled into Splinter's embrace, little body shaking with sobs the entire time. 

He rubbed Leo's shell and hugged him tighter, the little turtle only barely starting to calm down. He couldn't seem to keep the tears from coming now, his crying echoing throughout the kitchen. 

“It is okay, Leonardo, I am here now,” Splinter murmured, leaning in close so Leo could hear him, “ you were a very brave boy while I was gone, weren't you?” 

The wailing died down to a quiet sobbing, Leo sniffling and hiccuping in response. 

It was quiet, save for a few hiccups and gasps, before a wet chirp came from the turtle in response. It was muffled by Splinter's shoulder, but had most certainly come from the little turtle. 

Splinter sighed, still rubbing his shell, his voice softening, “ I am so very proud of you, my son. You did such a good job.”

A beat of silence, a hiccup, and then- 

Another chirp, this time with a sad, questioning tone to it. As if to say, ‘really?’ 

“ Yes. and I think your brothers are very proud of you as well,” He glanced up to his other children and beckoned them over. 

Mikey pushed his chair back with a screech and quickly joined the group hug, but Donnie and Raph didn't move just yet. 

Raph’s jaw was tight, his face a stony mask of barely concealed anger. His hands flexed open and closed, claws tapping against the table as if contemplating if he really should join. 

Raph was only thinking about how Splinter had spoken to him on those phone calls. How he'd wax poetic about Raph being the leader again. 

Leo didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be ignored by their dad when he was just trying t tell him about his days. About all the things he was doing. Leo sought his attention over everyone else, even when he wasn't here. 

And yet Splinter was here now acting like it had never happened. Like Leo hadn't had to fight for attention the entire time he was gone. 

The thought made Raph sick, but he joined the hug regardless. 

it didn't show as much on Donnie's face, but he seemed to be going through a similar revelation. He'd been hesitant to call Splinter and ask for his status at all. He doubted Splinter would even find Draxum, doubted that he was even trying. He had suspected their dad of just running away from The problem rather than seeking an actual solution. 

It wasn't as if Splinter had ever done anything like that for them when they were children, so why would Donnie give him the benefit of the doubt now. 

Sure, he'd left of his own volition and had done so promptly. But this was Splinter. Who raised them off of movies and as little information about their family and their origins as possible. Splinter who left Raph to do so much of the work that he'd- 

But this was different. Splinter was different. And Leo was- well Leo was still clinging to the idea that their dad would pay attention to him and kiss his booboos and tuck him in at night. Because at that age he still did. For a little bit, anyway. 

Donnie swallowed, tucking his phone into his pocket. He could think about all the ways Splinter had failed them in their childhood later. What mattered now was his twin. They couldn't go influencing how he felt about Dad, after all, there was no telling how it might affect the space-time continuum and all that. 

 Donnie’s eyes shone and he reluctantly joined the hug, trying to put all the feelings and concerns about Splinter out of his mind for now. 

Raph squeezed them all together, just like it should be, and rumbled that he was proud of Leo. For the record. He wondered to himself if maybe they should tell Big Leo that a bit more. Because maybe then he wouldn't go throwing himself into danger for them and maybe Raph wouldn't have to worry about him so much. 

And cause it was the truth. He really was proud of Leo. Both this version and the teenaged Leo. He wasn't sure if his opinion mattered much to either version, but he made a note in his mind to tell Leo when he got back. To make sure he got it through the kid's stubborn head. 

…if he ever got back. 

It was quiet for a bit.April joined the hug at some point, Casey Junior staying at the table and keeping his distance for now. 

( it might be cute if Leo was like 🥺 Casey hug too? ) 

Leo sniffled. He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses and glanced up at everyone, tears still dribbling down his cheeks, “ even though I didn't- I didn't get my superpowers back?”

Splinter seemed confused, so Mikey quickly cut in, “ It's okay, Lee! You've been trying your very best, haven't you?” 

They hugged him a little tighter at that, Leo letting out a weak, warbling chirp in response. 

[whump-a-la-mode]

Um hi, I don't normally send prompts but I had an idea, so…anyway, basically the prompt is a villain's young sidekick who shows up at the villain's doorstep in the middle of the night (villain is a nice person; more unlawful than evil, idk) really injured, and when the villain patches them up, they end up accidentally revealing that they live with an abusive family? Idk, sorry if this is a weird idea.

With ideas as good as this one, you should send prompts more often ^^ It's not weird at all, I absolutely love this. I tried really hard on this one, so I really hope you enjoy!

Please note that this work contains descriptions of the aftermath of physical child abuse. If this would upset or distress you, please avoid reading this work.

CW//Child abuse, physical child abuse, verbal child abuse, being called a 'freak', death of a spouse, blood, bacteria (in a scientific setting)

Villain had never been much of a fan of children.

They wouldn't exactly describe it as a dislike. Kids were... fine. Annoying on occasion, and endlessly confusing with their new trends and habits, but fine. Those who brought them into the world and raised them provided a precious service, but their talents were far more useful elsewhere.

They squinted their eye, the eye pressed up against the lens of their microscope. With a tiny twist of a knob, the image below focused, displaying in full detail a million squirming lifeforms.

The culture was developing as expected. They removed the slide and returned the bacterial colony to its petri dish.

They'd thought about having a family, when they were young. A juvenile, clueless thought, but a thought nonetheless. There was something that warmed them about the concept of a home that was never empty.

Nowadays, they shared their home with no one but the bacteria, and they weren't exactly the best conversationalists.

Villain moved across their lab, soft socks muffling the thudding of their feet on the tile. With practiced accuracy, they returned the petri dish back to its tray, where it belonged.

They couldn't help but glancing just to the right. To the rabbit cage, sitting empty as it was. The light above it was still glowing bright, illuminating the stale hay below, and the toilet paper roll where the cage's inhabitant's teeth had once gnawed.

Now, the habitat sat empty.

They couldn't bring themself to clean it out. That was Spouse-

That was Spouse's job.

Villain bit their lip, taking another petri dish from the tray and returning to their microscope.

They growled and swatted at the thoughts that fought to enter their brain, but it was no use. No weapon could have fended them off.

Because... Because...

Because Spouse had loved kids.

They had always talked about the concept in dreamy, wistful tones. The idea of having a family, of creating something together that wasn't borne of chemicals in a lab. And Villain had agreed. But it was always simply a plan. Something that would be done sometime in the future. When the world wasn't so hectic. When there wasn't work to be done. When...

Villain bit their tongue hard enough to draw blood, gazing as intensely through the microscope's lens as they could manage.

Now that Spouse was gone, the laughter of children would never light the dreary home. There would always be a spare bedroom.

Their home would always be empty.

Maybe that was why they had taken Sidekick in.

It was something they'd wondered so often, not that they'd ever admit it to the teen they had taken under their wing. The relationship had started so uneventfully-- a powered kid with just enough spunk and reckless abandon to find their way into the world of heroes and villains.

At first, Villain hadn't even thought of them as a sidekick. They were just a kid that they trained in their free time. A future ally who needed someone to show them the ropes.

Then, they'd started coming with them on missions.

And fighting at their side.

And now, Villain couldn't help wondering, whenever they laid in their large, empty bed, what Spouse would have thought of their protege. If they were still around, then Sidekick's 16th birthday cake wouldn't have been so shitty. But, hey, no one could say that Villain hadn't tried.

Damn, did they miss that kid. Even when they called them a dinosaur and laughed when they didn't know what Tock-Tic was, or whatever they'd said. They'd been gone almost a whole week, now.

It wasn't the first time, of course. No teen had the time to be a full-time sidekick. They had their own life. They needed to go to school and hang out with their friends and be a kid. And do whatever kids did on Tock-Tik. Villain was certain that they would come back when they were able.

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By the time the knock on the door came, Villain was almost done with their inspection of the bacteria colonies. Their tired eyes flitted to the clock on the wall: Three in the morning. Had it been that long?

And who the hell was at their door at three in the morning?

The knock sounded again, yet, this time, it was distinct. Three sharp taps, then a fourth two seconds later.

Sidekick's knock. The one they'd practiced, to notify Villain when they arrived. But... They looked at the clock again. Their eyes had not deceived them. It was the dead of night. The kid should have been asleep hours ago!

Without care, they tossed down the petri dish in their hands on the nearest countertop, not so much as bothering to shrug off their lab coat as they hurried to the front door. They expected to hear the knock again-- the kid was always so impatient-- but there was no such noise. Only heavy, shallow breathing.

Other villains would have bemoaned their recklessness, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that their kid was here.

Villain flung open the window. Sidekick leapt back.

Sidekick...

They stood in the doorway a moment, liquid shock and terror battling for dominance within their bones. When they finally recovered, they spoke no words, only bustled their protege through the door and locked it behind. The kid stumbled all the way to the lab's exam table, which Villain practically threw them upon.

The terror in their bones had settled firmly in their stomach.

"What in the world happened to you?"

It was with the gaze of a parent rather than a doctor that they scanned the kid from head to toe.

The sheer volume of blood made it difficult to pinpoint their wounds. Yet, it was clear to see that the side of their head was still pumping scarlet, and the crimson dribbling down their leg was already dripping onto the pristine lab floor.

Villain gulped. The idea of taking their eyes of the kid for a split second was petrifying, but they relented, rushing off to returning a moment later with handfuls of rags. They shoved one into the kids hands.

"Hold this to the wound on your head, as tight as you can. I'll clean off your leg."

Even with trembling hands, the kid obliged as Villain knelt down , drenching rag after rag in blood until the leg was finally clear. At the very least, the wound upon their knee seemed to have stopped weeping scarlet. It was a messy thing, blunt trauma with enough force behind it to tear straight through the skin. The villain's practiced fingers tied a tight wrapping of gauze around the joint, standing to their feet.

Blood had seeped between Sidekick's fingers, but it seemed to have begun to dry. The head wound had stopped bleeding.

"Good." Villain pried the soaked rag from the kid's hands, tossing it aside. They could clean up later. "Where else?"

Sidekick averted their gaze, shoulders winding up taut.

"You need to tell me where you were hurt. Please."

After a few moments of trembling like a leaf, the kid gestured to their side.

"Okay. Can you take your shirt off for me, please? I need to get that cleaned."

"Okay..." The kid whimpered, obliging. Villain tossed aside the bloodied garment with little care, adding it to the pile of dirtied fabric.

Their torso...

The wound on their side, just above the hip, did not bleed nearly as bad as the other two. But...

With the sheer amount of bruises littering their flesh, Sidekick's skin may as well have been blue.

Villain took a clean rag, pressing it to their side.

"Who." They spat. "Who did this?"

Their mind began to run with such speed that, had it been a computer, its fans would have been on overdrive. What heroes were active around Sidekick's neighborhood? A few came to mind, at least one or two that were far enough outside the law that they wouldn't have put much thought into doing this to a kid.

But Sidekick did not speak, instead staring at their own shoes, dangling off the exam table.

When the hip wound was dried and wrapped, Villain whirled around, grabbing their phone and flicking to the contacts page. Which of their fellow villains was near the kid's home? They could think of at least a couple. Even if they were little more than acquaintances, someone who would hurt a kid was the common enemy of all.

"I need a name, kiddo. A name. Was it Viper? Sunstorm? The Twilight Reaper? I have friends, lots of friends. We can make them regret this."

No reply. Villain bit their lip, selecting a contact, moving their finger towards the call button-

"Wait!"

The kid at last cried.

"It wasn't a hero. My dad's not a-"

Villain whirled around.

"Your dad?"

Sidekick flushed.

"U- um, no, I, um-"

"Did your father do this?" They stormed to the exam room where the kid sat. "All of this?"

"I- I-" Their voice was choked by tears, carving down their scarlet-stained face.

Villain placed their hands on the kid's shoulders, turning their gaze towards them.

"Please. Please, kid."

The falling tears turned to full-on sobs.

"H- He said I was a- a freak!" They wailed. "I was training, I- You said I needed to practice my flying, in bird form. And I was practicing, and I didn't think anyone else was home, and then he walked in and-"

A sob broke their voice.

"They told me never to use my powers. He doesn't know that I- I stopped taking the pills. The ones that suppress them. And he got m- mad, and, and-"

"It's okay, it's okay."

Villain threw their arms around their child, embracing them while taking care not to disturb their wounds.

"I didn't know where else to go." Sidekick's words were strangled. "I'm sorry, but I didn't want to go back home and..."

"No, no." They tightened the embrace. "No. You don't have to go back, never. Not if you don't want to."

They broke off the hug, picking their phone up again once more.

"Talon has kids your age, she would take you in. Alya, too. Swan Dancer is a teacher..."

"Um." Sidekick seemed to have run out of tears, leaving them with only a broken, low voice. "I... That's all fine. But, um, I thought you mentioned having a spare room?"

Despite their parental terror, Villain let their face break into the smallest smile.

Spouse's room.

In a way, maybe they would get to meet Sidekick, after all.

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - XXXVIII - Torturous Research

It can get intense and graphic, so read with caution after the "BOOM".

Also, there is a bit of a time skip. Only a day or so.

Russia wakes up slowly to a sliver of sunlight shining on his face. He had fun with the kids for the past few days.

But today, he and America had to leave to start their mission. 

Russia sighs.

At least they had some of their own fun before they lost their private room.

America shifts next to him before pulling him down into a kiss. Russia sloppily kisses back and runs his hands down America's back, tracing his spine down to his lower back and thighs. Russia enjoys messaging America's behind and America hums, feeling up Russia's chest before pulling away.

"You wore me out last night," America mumbles, staring up with half-open eyes.

Russia smirks. He admires the marks he'd left on America's collar bone. He pulls America back in for another kiss, and America returns the passion.

"It was fun," Russia teases

"A'course. You're good~," America purrs.

Russia smiles back and closes his eyes. America takes a deep breath before sinking against Russia, slotting his legs in between Russia's. America lays that way for a second before pulling away suddenly, sitting up quickly on the bed.

"S***!" America exclaims, the blankets pooling around his waist, "we need to get going!"

Russia nods and sits up. America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up.

"Come on!!" America exclaims.

America pulls him into the connected bathroom to the room and they quickly clean up before America drags Russia downstairs to where Texas is waiting for them.

"Who is coming with us?" America asks.

"Dixie's in his truck with Netti right now. Then once we get in, we'll be on our way," Texas replies, "it'll be a while before we get there, so we'll have to figure out a game plan."

Russia nods.

"All y'all's stuff is already in the back of the truck. You'll have to thank Ginny and Pig-Pen for getting your bags packed and all that. Now come on, let's get going," Texas says, waving them forward.

America hops into the passenger seat and Russia sits in the back with Texas and Connecticut. Connecticut gives a welcoming smile which Russia returns.

"Hey, Dix. Didn't know you would decide to come along," America says, pulling on the seatbelt.

"Georgia can handle the house," Dixie says, gripping the steering wheel, "and I ain't gonna be standing back no more. Can't have y'all getting hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Now, where are we headed?"

"The closest one from here is a good few hours North," America says, summoning the glowing map he had drawn in the warehouse, "So just start going north and we'll be good. I'll figure out better directions with an actual map."

DIxie nods and pulls away from the house. After just a few moments of driving, the entire building is hidden from view. Russia smiles before turning back to see America excitedly talking Dixie's ear off and Dixie gently shaking his head with a bemused smile.

"Okay," Connecticut says, crossing their arms, "we need a game plan before we start storming bases. Otherwise, it's just gonna end badly."

"Damn right," Texas agrees, turning to face Russia.

"What?"

"You are the only country who might actually be able to plan something," Connecticut says, "Dad has never been a 'planner' and Dixie doesn't get any father than 'shoot now, questions later'. We were hoping you could help."

Russia goes quiet and stares out at the passing scenery.

"We should go to search for missing countries. We have basic maps, so we know where to start," Russia says.

"And how much damage are we causing?" Texas asks.

Russia shrugs.

"Do not get caught," Russia warns.

"Yes!" Texas celebrates, fist-bumping the air.

"Who are we looking for?" Connecticut asks curiously.

"Ukraine. There are others we will look for, but I want to find my brother," Russia replies.

"Sounds good to me," Connecticut says.

Russia looks back and spaces out.

"We're close."

"Hey, what's with the black car?"

"DAD!"

BOOM

...

Russia sits up a little and groans. He rubs his head, trying to ignore the pulsing headache, and he looks around only to see that he is completely surrounded by a thick glass reinforced with metal bars with small windows 3 meters above the ground with some deceiving slots in between some of the bars for sound to carry. There is a metal exam table bolted to the ground in the middle of the room, and it looks like it has spots of rust on the restraints. It smells like blood.

Russia looks around more and sees that each of them were in large, and separate cages. He looks a little closer and sees a brutalized Dixie curled up on the ground and covered in blood and bruises. Connecticut looks like they're about to cry and Texas looks beyond angry, but also scared.

"Who's next?" a voice asks.

Russia whips around to stare at a scientist that walks into the hallway in between Russia's cage and America's.

"NO!" America screeches, "DON'T TOUCH THEM! PLEASE!"

Russia looks up and sees America's arms hanging from chains, his wrists bound to the ceiling, and his ankles shackled. Blue magic audibly snaps around America's eye, but America shrieks in pain and his muscles seize. America howls before going limp, and blue-ish black smoke drifts up from the shackles. America's breaths come in ragged gasps.

The horror builds in Russia's chest a lump forms in his throat.

"Me. I'll go," Dixie says, sitting up, his face bloody and one of his eyes swollen shut.

"Oh, no. Not you. You've been beaten. You don't need this," the scientist says with a sickly sweet tone, looking back down at his clipboard.

The scientist looks up at Texas, "What about you?"

Texas glances at Connecticut with a conflicted gaze. The reality of the situation hits Russia like a truck and he leaps to his feet before he gives Texas the chance to answer.

"NO! No. Take me," Russia says, throwing his hand in the air.

The scientist hums for a moment before a smirk appears on his face that disappears quickly. Russia steels his face over and the scientist walks off.

"What's going on?" Russia asks Texas, who looks away.

"We're at one of the bases. They ambushed us," Dixie chokes, "They caught us by surprise and restricted Amy's magic. Amy already tried to escape, so they have him restrained, and Connecticut's magic is blocked here."

Russia examines the area and sees they aren't the only ones here, but that most of the other inhabitants looked almost catatonic in their own cells. Russia flinches when he hears the door squeak open. His eyes go wide and sprint for the exit.

But before Russia can make it out the door, he's struck in the stomach by something that sends bolts of electricity through his veins. He flys back and his legs shake violently. The scientist tsks and writes something down on the clipboard. Russia tries to push himself back to his feet, adrenalin rushing through his system and his heart skips a few beats as he tries to stumble around the scientist.

The scientist jabs him in the stomach again with what looks like a cattle prod and Russia collapses into a heap on the floor.

"You will learn to stay down," the scientist sneers.

Russia ignores the words and tries again to scramble to his feet, only for his legs to go limp against his will. Panic ravages his mind and he tries to crawl his way forward. Then several people walk in dressed as guards. They pick Russia up from the floor and strap him down to the table. Russia thrashes against them, but his arms are hard to control and his legs had gone numb.

"I will take another one to experiment on," the scientist suggests with a smirk.

Russia's frantic thrashing calms and he forces himself to lay back.

'Better me than any of them.'

"Good country," the scientist coos, stroking Russia's cheek.

Disgust fills Russia and he swallows back the nausea that follows.

"Where am I?" Russia spits, and the scientist chuckles.

"You're with me!" The scientist cackles.

"Who are you?" Russia asks, biting back his growing anger.

"I am the main researcher for our cause, of course! Now, lay back and keep quiet~"

Russia shuts his mouth and tries his best to look around until the scientist grabs a strap and yanks it. Russia's head flies back and hits the table with a CLANG.

"Now, let's explore the healing you countries have. Oh! I have been so excited to get my hands on another one of you!"

Something rolls into the room that is loud with clanging and metallic sounds. He can hear muffled shouting.

"What are you doing?!" Texas shouts, his tone horrified.

The scientist shoves a gag into Russia's mouth and Russia swallows back the vomit creeping up his throat.

The cloth tastes like old blood and vomit.

Russia stares with wide eyes and tries to figure out what was about to happen, but the metal things that he hears clambering around remain out of his view. Then something pierces the back of his hand. His back arches in agony and he screams. The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

It feels like his hand is being thrust into a flame, and he feels nails being buried into the back of his hand. His thrashing had loosened the restraints enough to turn his head and he sees the scientist with a sadistic grin poking a red hot nail into Russia's hand and fingers. The scientist puts the nail aside and begins writing while closely examining the wounds.

"Interesting..."

The scientist prods at the throbbing wounds with gloved hands and pushes the flesh apart as it tries to stitch itself back together. Muffled screams fill Russia's room and Russia's face streaks with tears. His hand burns horribly and throbs with every heartbeat.

"Flex your fingers," the doctor demands.

Russia tries, but stars dance in his eyes.

"Do it!" the doctor demands and a piercing pain burns through Russia's hip.

Russia wails and his vision goes white. He clenches his hand and the burning recedes, and the hole throbs as it is exposed to the air. He wheezes and tries to blink away his tears.

"Russia!" Russia hears America cry out.

Russia's head whips around. To his left was America, who screams and cries hysterically. To his right is the doctor. In front of him is the frozen faces of the states staring up at him horrified.

'I can't let this happen to them.'

He bites the cloth in his mouth to keep from crying out while the doctor puts the nail back on the table.

"Bring it in," the doctor calls.

Someone walks in and he hears America shrieks. Russia spins around to stare at one of the guards walking in with a large, steaming pot. Texas begins shouting obscenities and Connecticut begins trying to bargain with the guards.

"Stop," the doctor says before leaning over Russia's face, his eyes dead except for an evil, sadistic gleam.

"Well, you have two choices. One, you're drenched in boiling water."

Russia's heart drops.

"Or we could make one of the others take your place."

Russia begins hyperventilating at the thought of the pain.

"So, what'll it be?"

"Russ!" Texas shouts desperately, "I can take it! I'll take it! Please!"

'No. I will not let you get hurt if I don't have to.'

Russia stares the doctor in the eye.

"Option one?" the doctor asks, and Russia nods, determined.

The doctor giggles.

"Alright!" the doctor cheers, a horrible smile on his face.

Russia is blinded by searing pain as the scalding water begins burning away the skin on his chest and stomach. He screeches and thrashes as the burning tunnels into his skin. The doctor begins scratching at him and Russia throws his head back against the table, not seeing anything but stars.

Russia can faintly hear America screeching incoherently. He turns his gaze to America, who looks inconsolable, sobbing and thrashing against the restraints.

'Better me than them. Than him.'

Russia's surroundings begin to fade away as the doctor begins taking samples and taking notes. Russia feels his chest and stomach skin go completely numb and the doctor continues to prod at the injuries. He stares blankly, his mind spinning with pain.

'Want to find him.'

Russia stares up at America, who cries and screams into the empty air, the cuffs around his wrists smoking.

'He's sad.'

'I don't want him to be sad.'

"Meri?" Russia tries, but the cloth muffles it to the point that it doesn't make any sense.

America looks up at him and more tears gather in his eyes.

'Oh no.'

'Am I making him sad?'

"I'm sorry," Russia tries to say.

America's head whips up and stares forward with tears before America begins to throw himself around the room against the chains, screaming in rage. Russia's eyelids grow heavy but he forces them back open, trying to watch through his double vision.

The chains snap and Russia is blinded by a bright blue light and he sees America slams against the walls. The doctor didn't seem concerned at first until the glass shatters and Russia hears a horrible scream. A scream of anger, pain, and grief.

America summons his scythe and slices the cages open, breaking Dixie, Texas, and Connecticut out of their restraints before rushing into Russia's room. The guards try to take him down, only to be sliced in half.

Their pieces scatter along the floor and they ooze blood across the floor.

Connecticut summons throwing knives and pins the doctor to the wall by his hands. They laugh sadistically.

America leans over Russia and begins pumping magic into Russia. A thick sheet of magic surrounds his injuries and Russia stares up, watching America's magic begin to flicker in his eye. America's eyes begin to fall, but he scowls and continues to shove as much magic as he could manage into his efforts. Russia feels his pain begin to fade and the waxy skin on his chest began to rebuild itself.

Connecticut cuts Russia's restraints and removes the gag. Russia turns over and vomits before falling back onto the table. America begins shaking.

The cuffs are vibrating and smoking horribly.

"Are you okay?" Russia mumbles.

America's breathing is labored and he trembles, his eyelids fall unevenly. The magic flickers, but the sheets of healing magic remain consistent.

"Dad, you have to stop!" Connecticut demands.

"No! I let this happen!" America wails.

"You're killing yourself!" Dixie yells, trying to pull him away, "STOP!"

America refuses and continues forcing magic into Russia, but the magic that had been in his working eye fades away.

"*America?*" Russia mumbles.

America's magic begins to spark wildly and America sways. He leans against the table before crumbling. Russia tries to sit up, but screams. The hole in his hip throbs and his skin burns. He falls back and breaths heavily.

"We have to go!" Connecticut says.

"No," Russia interrupts, "we have to find anyone else who is here."

"But-"

"No!" Russia screams, biting back his cry of pain, "this can not be for nothing!"

Texas and Dixie glance at each other and nod.

"Go," Dixie says with a dark look, "and take care of them. They deserve it. And grab the guns."

The states smirk and run off, and he hears screaming and gunfire under their running footsteps. Dixie stands over them, trying to prop America up in a more comfortable position.

Russia lies back, trying not to aggravate his injuries any further, feeling completely helpless.

~

Next

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Table of Contents

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Surprises

For @whumphoarder​. Happy Happy Happy Birthday, Bethany!

This is set in my favourite alternative universe where everyone’s alive after Endgame and staying together at the reconstructed Avengers compound. Fluff & Humour.

Thanks to @sallyidss​ for beta reading!

_____________________

It’s 2am on a Friday night and Tony is sitting his lab, working on the solar-powered spider car he is planning to give Peter for his birthday. 

The gift had technically been ready a week ago, but then Morgan broke into the lab and spent a happy afternoon using various spray paints to add a personal touch to the vehicle - a cute gesture, but Tony doubts whether Peter would want a car with a five-year old’s “golden glitter spiders” painted all over it. Tony came down to the workshop hours ago - originally only in order to clean the mess, but then he got the sudden inspiration of adding a pizza slice holder to the passenger door, and after that his ideas only kept multiplying, and who needs sleep anyway?

He’s currently bent over his StarkPad, completely immersed in updating the safety system once again, when something pokes him in the shoulder.

“Oh yeah, coffee sounds great,” Tony mutters and turns around, fully expecting to see his self-propelled cup holder hovering next to him with his hourly dose of caffeine. 

Instead, his gaze falls onto a very bloody kid. 

“What on earth?” Tony exclaims. With a quick gesture, he orders DUM-E to pull a cover over the car on the other side of the lab, hoping that Peter hasn’t taken notice. 

“Uhm, Mr. Stark, I can explain…” Peter mumbles. 

“What happened, kid?” Tony asks, stunned. Peter is pressing a rag against a wound on his ribcage, which seems to be the main source for the blood, but it’s all over his body, some drops have even made it to his hair. “I thought you went to sleep, not crime fighting!”

“No, this wasn’t a criminal - it was Black Widow’s knives,” Peter admits sheepishly.

“What?” Tony frowns. “Nat’s not even in the country!”

“No, no, not Natasha - I got cut by the knives in her cabinet-”

“You opened Natasha’s cabinet? Are you mad?”

“No, Mr. Stark, just listen, please! Cassie and I had a bet that I couldn’t do a triple backflip without touching the ground, but Captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes were wrestling in the gym, so I went to practise in the attic. I got distracted by watching Falcon fly upside down in front of the window... and then I crashed into the cabinet,” he spills without taking a breath in between.

“You...What?” There are so many things wrong with Peter’s explanation that Tony’s doesn’t even know where to start. It definitely seems like a nanny would be a good idea for most of the compound’s inhabitants.

“Uhm…” Peter interrupts, suddenly swaying a little. “I think I should sit down…”

“Shit.” Tony feels his chest goes tight in worry - the lecture can wait for later. He pushes Peter down onto the lab stool. “Okay, let me see.” 

Tony unceremoniously pulls up the boy’s t-shirt and raises his eyebrows at the mess. There are a number of cuts all over his torso, but the most worrying one is an approximately 5-inch slash on his rib cage. “Yeah, this definitely needs stitches,” he assesses.

Peter bites his lip. “I’m sure the spider healing will take care -”

“You know yourself that it won’t, or you wouldn’t have come to me. Come on, let’s move you over there.” Tony wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and supports him to the sofa in the corner of the lab. “Lie down, kid. I’ll fix you up.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Peter asks doubtfully. “No offence, just, you’re not exactly a doctor…” The kids eyes glance at Tony’s left hand, which is trembling a little like usual. 

“Well…” Tony lifts his right arm dramatically, and a needle extends from his index finger. “The perks of being able to design your own prosthetic arm. I got it patented, it’s fully approved to perform simple medical operations.” 

“Wow!” For a moment, Peter seems to have all but forgotten about his injury. “That’s amazing.”

“Amazing is my middle name.” 

(Tony doesn’t mention that the main reason for incorporating the feature is that it provides him with an easy way to avoid consulting medical about his own frequent work injuries.)

“What else do you have in there?” Peter asks, eyes gleaming.

“Anything and everything you can imagine. Sometimes I wish I had thought of something like that earlier, the self-cleaning function would have come in handy while changing Morgan’s diapers…”

Peter chuckles. But when Tony dabs Lidocaine on the wound and goes on to insert a surgical thread into the eye of the needle, he presses his lips together, his face paling.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing.” The boy’s voice is shaking a little.

“Sure, Pinocchio.”

“I just - I don’t really like needles,” Peter admits, biting his lip and eyeing the device nervously.

“Oh, kid.” Tony feels for him, but he can’t help but add, “On the plus side, at least I don’t have to worry about you getting an I love Justin Bieber tattoo on your bicep.”

 “Justin Bieber? How old are you?” Peter exclaims in honest shock.

Tony gives him a stern look. “Watch it, boy.” 

Tony hears Peter’s breath quicken when he bends over the boy and pierces his skin with the needle. “So, tell me about that physicist you never shut up about, what’s his name? Saran Wrap Twigson?” 

“Søren Thygesen!” Peter corrects indignantly. “You totally know his name.”

“What’s his newest discovery?”

“You’re just trying to distract me,” Peter points out. He flinches when Tony places the next stitch.

“Never, kid,” Tony says in fake earnestness. “So, Søren Thygesen. He plays the, what was it, saxophone? Bagpipe?”

“Didgeridoo,” Peter grumbles. “He even won a national competition in Denmark, it’s all on YouTube.”

“What did he have to say about NASA’s newest Mars mission?”

When Peter doesn’t respond, Tony glances up between the careful movements of his fingers. The kid’s face has taken on a slightly dazed look and he is swallowing thickly. 

“Don’t puke on me,” Tony warns.

“Huh?” 

“I know that look from Morgan. That’s the I’m going to barf in the next five minutes face.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Peter swallows once more. It’s more like a gulp this time. He glances down at the needle. “Okay, maybe I’m feeling a little queasy.” 

“Uhm.” Tony warily eyes the trash can on the other side of the room, then looks down at his handiwork. “Just hold it for another minute, okay? Two more stitches.”

Peter nods and squeezes his eyes shut. His face has taken on an ashen tint and there is sweat running down his temples. 

Tony finishes the stitches as quickly as possible. “Done,” he sighs with relief. The nanotech of his small finger retracts to reveal a scissor. “Just let me cut-”

“Daddy?” 

Morgan is standing in the door frame, all messy bedhead with a Spider-Man plush toy in her arms. She looks from the blood-covered t-shirt on the ground and the surgery equipment poking out from Tony’s prosthetic hand to the gash on Peter’s chest, and promptly bursts into tears. 

“Hey bud, don’t worry,” Peter mumbles. He struggles to sit up a little straighter and tries for a reassuring smile which quickly morphs into a pained grimace. “I’m fine.” 

Then, without further warning, he leans forward and throws up all over Tony’s pants.

*

Five years of parenting have done wonders for Tony’s patience, but after calming down one puking and one crying kid, changing everyone’s clothes, getting the bots to clean up the lab and settling Morgan back to sleep (and reassuring her about 3000 times that Peter will indeed be fine), he is pretty much at the end of his nerves. 

When he returns to the lab, Peter is waiting on the couch where Tony has left him with a bottle of gatorade and strict orders not to move from there before the end of the night. 

“How’re you holding up?” Tony asks, hoping his tone doesn’t betray his own exhaustion.

“Okay, I guess.” Peter is still pale, but not looking in any immediate danger of being sick or passing out, so Tony counts that as a win.

“Let me see.” The engineer lifts the gauze the kid was pressing against his ribcage. The stitches are neat and regular, and Tony mentally congratulates himself for his precision work. Maybe he’s imagining it, but it looks like the edges of the wound are already starting to grow back together. “I’ll bandage this and then you can go to sleep. You’re staying home tomorrow, and no acrobatics for at least a week.”

“But Mr. Stark, what about the backflip? I bet Cassie for the clip of her dad and Mr. Barton performing Umbrella at the New Year’s party!” 

“Will you stop, please?” Tony growls. “My lecture on responsible behaviour will follow in the morning, once I’m properly awake. But don’t dare to even think about doing anything like that in the attic again.” 

“On second thought…” Peter smiles cheekily, “I kinda did manage the triple backflip before I hit the cabinet, so if I could just get a hand on the security camera feed and show them to Cassie…?” 

Tony sighs. “FRIDAY?” 

“The footage has been sent to Mr. Parker’s email account, Boss.”

“Thanks. Now, on to the important issues…” Tony starts to dress the stitches on Peter’s chest as well as the smaller wounds. Peter stays quiet, but he can’t suppress a wince when the disinfect burns in the cuts.

“Do you want a painkiller?” Tony asks. “Actually, scratch that, I’m ordering you to have one. Dum-E?” 

The robot whirs off obediently to retrieve one of the Super Duper Painkillers Bruce and Tony cooked up for Peter’s enhanced metabolism. 

Meanwhile, Tony finishes the dressing. “That’s done, but no hasty movements with this, you gotta promise-”

There’s a clatter from behind, and then Tony hears Peter suck in a gulp of air through his teeth.

“What?” Tony turns around and sees, to his horror, that Dum-E managed to get entangled in the sheet covering the car and pulled it down completely, revealing the present to Peter.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers. “Is that for me…?”

“No, I’m designing a red-and-blue cobwebbed-themed car for Hawkeye,” Tony snorts. “You were not supposed to see that. Great work, Dummy.” The robot whirs apologetically. “Yeah, yeah, that’s not gonna help you.”

“A car…oh my god...” Peter’s face is an adorable mixture of shock, surprise, gratitude and awe. 

“It’s not just any car,” Tony clarifies, then stops himself before he can give away the special features - spider legs to take over in dangerous terrain, or the swimming ability, or the wings, oh yeah, the wings... The mechanic has still got some surprises up his sleeve.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you so much! That’s amazing, that’s, that’s -” the kid is clearly lost for words. He looks at Tony with a huge grin and tears in his puppy eyes that have nothing to do with the pain from his injuries, and the engineer can feel his heart go warm. 

“No big deal,” he dismisses. “Now, take your painkiller and then move over.” 

He fetches the pills from Dum-E and shakes one into Peter’s hand, who swallows it obediently and then shifts on the couch to make space for his mentor. 

Tony groans when he drops into the cushions. He watches as Peter curls up on the other end of the couch. The boy’s eyelids are already drooping, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. Gratefully, he notices that the pain is slowly dissipating from the kid’s features.

Tony is feeling more wiped out than he usually does after a week-long workshop binge. Kids are a plague. But, he realises with a smile when Peter falls asleep with his arms wrapped around Tony’s legs, they’re worth every second of it.

_____________________

I stole the flying saucer, Søren Thygesen, and the Super Duper Painkiller from whumphoarder’s and @awesomesockes’s wonderful fic universe.

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

All my fics

[rememberstilinski]

better with you || stiles stilinski

word count: 2238

warnings: heated make out session, little swearing

request: hey there :)could you write something where the reader is very shy so she only talks to Scott and stiles around the pack but she has a huge crush on isaac.She tells stiles to ask him for help cause she doesn't know how to talk to him so he practices with her and after a while he suggests to practice kissing with her because he starts to realize that he really likes her and the reader gets so comfortable around him that she doesn't really that she loves him?you can include shy smut if you want c @ephemeral-stilinski

author’s note: so i haven’t written or posted in a couple weeks but i am back! i hope you like this because i’m really happy with how it turned out. thanks to @dumbass-stilinski for proof-reading and fixing my errors as well as @sarcasticallystilinski for also reading this! i’m happy they both liked it! :)

masterlist

Anyone in the McCall pack could tell you that Y/N was a shy girl. She hardly spoke to anyone besides Scott and Stiles. The two boys knew almost everything about their friend. But everyone else couldn't even tell you her birthday. No one really knew why she was so reserved, not even Stiles and Scott.

Even though Y/N was shy, she inhabited a small crush for Isaac Lahey. They'd never had a deep conversation because every time Y/N attempted to start talking to him, she'd stumble over her words or completely forget what they were talking about. Every morning she'd stare down the hall, just admiring the tall boy who had some weird scarf fetish.

He was just drop dead gorgeous. Isaac was just that guy; the one that could make literally any girl swoon. Y/N sighed in admiration as she watched him talk to some guy on the lacrosse team. Behind her, a locker slammed shut, taking her out of her daydreaming. She jumped as the loud sound rang in her ears. “Stiles!” Y/N turned around and scolded her best friend.

“Are you ever going to ask him out?” Stiles sighed, zipping up his backpack and shrugging it onto his shoulder.

Y/N stuttered. “I-I don't know what you're talking about.”

The two began walking down the hallway so they could get to Economics with Coach Finstock. “Scarf boy, Y/N. You're always looking at him, why don't you just ask him out already?”

Stiles looked down at Y/N as they walked. Y/N sighed and looked down at her shoes. “I just…”

“You just what?”

“I've never had a boyfriend.” She mumbled playing with the long necklace that Lydia told her fit the outfit she was wearing perfectly.

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks causing Y/N to look behind her as she realized he stopped walking. “You've n-never ha-had a boyfriend?”

Y/N shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “It's really embarrassing. I've never even been kissed and it's not exactly something I like to share, either.”

“No, no, no. It's not that.” Stiles put his hands on her arms and rubbed up and down in a comforting manner. “It's that I'm surprised. You're absolutely perfect. You're unbelievably smart, you're an amazing friend, trustworthy, hilarious, and absolutely breathtaking.”

“Not even.”

“Don't argue with me on this, Y/N. I mean it when I say you're beautiful.” Stiles grinned.

Y/N smiled softly. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“Tell you what. I'll teach you.” He swung his arm over her shoulder and continued their way to class.

“Teach me what?”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Well, I have some experience when it comes to relationships and you know… smooching. Maybe I could help?”

“So you mean you're going to teach me how to kiss?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the wild offer.

“Only if you want to. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” In all honesty, Stiles was hoping, praying that she would accept. For a few months Stiles has been harboring some serious feelings for his best friend. These new feelings towards Y/N just sprung on him.

When Stiles’ view of Y/N changed, he was still working on his ten year plan with Lydia. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't see it working. He doesn't feel that way anymore. The only girl he can see himself with is Y/N. She's the one for him.

Y/N continued thinking about Stiles’ offer. It makes sense. Y/N would have experience with a guy and it could boost her chances with Isaac. She would be more confident in herself. And maybe it would give her closure for the teeny tiny feelings she has for the sarcastic boy.

The girl nodded. “Okay, I'll do it.”

A big smile made its way onto Stiles’ face and hope into his heart. “Great! Let's plan to meet at my place. Is seven okay?”

“Yeah, it's perfect.” The final bell rang just as Y/N and Stiles walked into the classroom and sat in their seats.

The rest of the day went on as normal. Y/N pining over Isaac, but still thinking about Stiles. Stiles admiring about everything Y/N even if what would happen later that night was so she could have a chance with a boy he didn't really care for.

After Y/N went home and did homework, it was a quarter until seven. She made herself look a little more presentable. Y/N pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and fixed her makeup. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her keys from the bowl on the table next to her front door and walking out the door. She got into her car and drove to Stiles’ house.

It didn't take long to get his house considering it was just around the corner. She got out of the car and walked up the driveway and got to the mahogany door. Y/N knocked three times and the door swung open to reveal Stiles himself. He looked breathtaking. The brown hair on the top of his head was messy in a perfect way. It wasn't his usual spikes that went in every which way, but sat flat on his head as if he just got out of the shower. The obvious dampness confirmed it.

Even his attire was simple yet sexy. He wore a black t-shirt that hugged his lean, yet muscular biceps in every amazing way. The grey sweatpants that he usually wore during their movie or study nights hung low on his hips. A small chuckled that erupted from Stiles’ throat took Y/N’s gazing off his body.

Y/N shook her head, snapping out of the daydream. Her Y/E/C eyes met with his honey ones. “Hey.” Y/N said coolly.

“Hey. Come on in.” Stiles opened the door wider giving Y/N a non-verbal invitation to come in. She looked around the house and saw it was spotless as usual.

“Your dad working again?” Y/N asked as she turned to look back at Stiles. He scratched the back of his neck and nodded.

“Yeah. He actually just left, said to say that it would be nice if you came over for dinner sometime.”

Y/N chuckled. “I will.”

Stiles clapped his hands together. “Great. Let's go to my room?” Y/N nodded and followed Stiles down the hall and to his room. The usual board of whatever supernatural occurrence or theory he had was in an organized mess.

The two sat at the foot of Stiles’ bed, Stiles on Y/N’s right. His room was clean just as it always was and his bed was perfectly made. “So…” Stiles trailed off.

Y/N wiped her hands over her leggings to get rid of the clammy feeling. “So, uh, where do you want to start?”

“We can start with kissing if you want.”

“Yeah, that's a good idea.” Y/N nodded.

Stiles scooted closer than they were before. He took her left hand and put it on his shoulder as he snaked his arm around her waist, their chests were now pressed together. Stiles and Y/N could feel their heartbeat speed up and pound against their rib cages.

Before they realized it, Y/N and Stiles’ face and were very close. Their breaths were mingling and as Y/N’s minty breath hit Stiles’ face, it sent shivers down his spine. Hell, the thought of kissing the girl in front of him was enough to make goosebumps appear on his skin and make the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight.

As their lips brushed together, Y/N looked into his eyes and saw the same intensity in Stiles’ eyes that she was sure was in hers. “If you want to stop, just say the word.” Y/N’s heart fluttered as the words fell from his mouth. Without thinking, she closed the very little amount of space between them and took Stiles by surprise.

The soft skin of their lips caressed each other and they could've sworn sparks flew. Y/N had never kissed anyone, but she couldn't imagine that a feeling this euphoric could get any better. The speed of her heartbeat increased by tenfold the moment their lips touched and every single in sync movement made her stomach erupt with butterflies. Any thoughts she had of Isaac completely vanished from her mind. In this moment, all she wanted to do was kiss Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes fluttered shut the moment their lips met. One kiss. Before the moment had come, that was all he wanted. Now that he'd had a taste of what kissing Y/N Y/L/N was like, he was already beginning to crave more. He pulled her closer to his chest, if that was even possible. A groan left his lips and fell into her mouth when Y/N’s fingernails scratched at his scalp. His lips started trailing away from her lips and down her jaw and neck.

A pleasured moan left her perfect mouth and it caused something in Stiles to snap. He pushed her back onto the bed and Y/N didn't stop him. Stiles’ lips found her sweet spot and it drove him crazy to see how it affected her. He started sucking a purple patch right on her pressure point. His right hand intertwined their fingers in a loving manner.

“Stiles.” Y/N whispered his name and all it did was spur on his actions. Stiles moved his lips back up to hers and that was all they did for a few moments. His tongue ran over her bottom lip and she had no hesitation to give him access. When his tongue entered her mouth, it wandered around, memorizing each and every single inch.

Stiles felt himself getting more and more aroused as they kept making intimate contact. Reality of the situation set in and it caused Stiles to pull away. He was risking everything right now and he couldn't lose her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Y/N asked and her chest moved up and down as she tried catching her breath.

“No, no. You-you were perfect. It was me.” Stiles stuttered. He sat back up and pulled away from her completely. Y/N lifted herself up and scooted next to him.

“It was good?” Y/N sounded completely surprised but a smile grew slowly on her face.

“It was amazing, Y/N.” He looked down at his fingers and began playing with them. “Probably the best I've ever had.”

Y/N would've had to have been deaf to not notice the falter in his tone as he spoke. “Well why do you sound so disappointed?”

Stiles stayed quiet for a moment before answering in a small voice. “Because I didn't want to stop.”

“Well then let's keep going.”

He shook his head. “No. That's not what I meant.” Stiles looked away from his fingers and back to the beautiful girl he could feel himself falling past the point of no return for. Her lips were swollen from all the tugging and rushed kissing they'd done. The very defined purple patch was on her neck and he couldn't help but feel hurt that he'd never be the one to always make her look like that.

“What do you mean, Stiles?” Y/N rubbed her arm up and down his bicep as she smiled softly with her head tilted so she could see him better.

“I meant I don't ever want to stop.” The movement of Y/N’s hand stopped and her eyes widened. “I don't ever want to stop kissing you. The way you look now with your swollen lips from my kisses is taking my heart away. And that purple love bite on your neck, I want to leave those all over your body. I'm in love with you, Y/N. I'm so so in love with you.”

“Y-you're in love with me?” It was now Y/N’s turn to stutter. “Stiles Stilinski is in love with me, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“More than anything.” Stiles took her hands in his and smiled. “I know that you have feelings for Isaac, but I'm utterly in love with you. You've always been my best friend, but now you're something different. You're something more and I don't know how to explain it. You make me happy and I'm always happiest when I'm with you. I love you.”

Y/N stayed quiet for many moments as she absorbed everything Stiles had just told her. He was emotionally naked in front of her right now. “Say it again.” She whispered as her hand moved to his face and began stroking his cheek, fingertips running over his beauty marks.

“I love you.”

Y/N smiled and crashed her lips to his. Stiles could feel her smile into the kiss and he sighed through his nose in relief. The kiss was short but sweet and was filled with more love than lust. “What about Isaac?” Stiles asked and the worry was very evident in his face and his voice.

Y/N smirked. “I like it better with you.” Stiles smiled and pushed her back on the bed just as he'd done before. The rest of the night was spent being wrapped up in nothing but love and each other.