#also I just want to shout out to the New York special that said the most American America we can conceive

[pedrito-friskito]

disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

+

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you’d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not. 

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

+

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

+

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

+

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again. 

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

#my fics #disobedient #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel

[thelittleliars]

Eventful concert

Natasha Romanoff x Singer Fem!Reader Black Widow x Female Singer Reader

Warnings: mention of depression and being suicidal

Words: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers couldn't prevent hydra from attacking you during one of your concerts.

AN: Not proof read. I somehow wrote this all today without having a writers block or ideas falling flat! Also since it's October 2023 *cough* Endgame events happening *cough* this is a part of remembering Natasha Romanoff. Nat moya lyubov, I will love and remember you forever 😭🖤

You heard tons of screaming fans as soon as the lights went dark. Usually you'd start with a bit of dancing and walking around from one end of the stage to the other, but you couldn't do it that night since you had a fractured foot. Instead you limped with one of the two crutches you had towards the middle of the stage where your microphone stood. When you were on your mark for the night, lights turned back on and shone on you. "Hi everyone! How are y'all doing?" You asked the crowed in which you got only screaming as an answer. "I'm excited to be here tonight. New York City baby!!!" The crowed was excited and hyped as you said the city you were in right then. You were the same back in the day when you went to concerts and you favorite artists said your hometowns name. It was always something special. "Unfortunately I fractured my foot last night and I can not give you all a 100% performance as I usually do but I hope this slowed down show is still something you'll enjoy." You smiled as you heard some get well soon's and we love you's. "Alright let's get started!!" 

The first song was a faster more upbeat and happy one. You tried your best walking with a single crutch in one hand and the microphone in your other hand from one side to the other side. Just because you needed crutches didn't mean  you wouldn't walk around to see all of your fans. You loved seeing your fans, interact with them and hear them sing the lyrics with you. The second song was slower than your first one but still faster than most of your work. It was also more of a song that was about the struggle of finally finding happiness again after dark patch. As your third and fourth song you played the saddest songs you'd ever written. They still broke your heart each night you sang them but the pain was worth it since you knew they were fan favorites and helped them as much as they helped you. 

"Thank you all so much for coming and singing along. I just wanted to make sure to let you all know that you're welcome here for whatever reason you came tonight for. It's valid if you came for only to see me and do nothing more than look at me. It's valid if you came here because I'm a lesbian artist and you wanted some safe space to relax. It's valid if you came because you can relate to my depressed and suicidal lyrics. I'm here for you all. I love you all. And thank you for having enough energy to come here tonight." You looked at your pianist and gave her a signal for them to start playing slowly. "Since I'm here in New York right now, I decided to play a cover of a huge song back in 2009. If you know it, please sing along." It was 'Empire State of Mind' by Alicia Key and Jay-Z that you decided to cover a small portion off and the crowd went absolutely wild as soon as they recognized which song it was. With fans shouting the lyrics and them screaming in general you nearly missed hearing security through your ear piece saying that there was a breach. After that somehow chaos broke out. Fans were screaming in fear and tried to leave the venue to get to a safe place. Your pianist was about to reach you to get you to safety when a huge bald guy launched at you. You tried to fight the best you could. If you hadn't your crutch you were helplessly lost. He got some good punches on you though but before you got knocked unconscious, he was flung through the entire room. Confused of what had happened you tried to move your head but two hands came out of nowhere and held your face steady in place. You looked up only for the first thing to see red hair falling down to your face. Your vision then cleared more and you saw the most mesmerizing green eyes you had ever seen in your entire life. "Let your head rest like this for a minute first. You shouldn't move your head too fast too, you might have a concussion from the brutal hits you received." When the sound of her voice hit your ears it felt like the wind got knocked out of you. Her voice was so warm and soothing but at the same time raspy and sexy. 

"I-I-I'm Y/N" You stuttered out like an idiot. She simply gave you a genuine smile. "Yeah I know." She said before she helped you up slowly. After she made sure you were good and there was no sign of a concussion she introduced herself. "I'm Natasha." Oh lord. You thought. A pretty girl with an even more prettier name. How will your lesbian ass ever not fall in love at first sight? "Let's get you backstage."

"What? No, I can't go." You started to protest. "I need to make sure that my fans will be alright!" 

"Don't worry. They're safe." She gave you your crutch. "I saw the Avengers out there helping." You took your crutch and you both started to walk very slow in the direction of the backstage. She kept a close step near you in case you loose your strength. "The Avengers..?" You said confused but by the look of her gaze it was as if you should know them. Out of fun you acted as if you realized that you them. "Ohh yeah sure THE Avengers.."

The sarcastic remark shocked Natasha a bit. After what happened with the Civil- War they caused she was sure that everyone knew about them. "You-you don't know the Avengers?"

Your face fell stone cold. "God damn why do americans always assume that people know for sure every single person in their stupid country.." You huffed down the couple of stairs that would get you behind the stage leading to your backstage room. Natasha was close behind you giving you room to take the steps at your pace. "I'm not american." She almost said it in an angry tone. You stopped when you finished going down the stairs. "But your accent...? You don't- I'm sorry for assuming." Natasha stepped closer to you before speaking in russian. ">No worries darling<" Your knees suddenly gave in a bit, the redhead was quick to steady you by having a good grip on your waist. There was this churning feeling deep inside of your stomach as she touched you again. How come that you felt like you just fell in love with her? This was insane, it possibly couldn't have happen this fast, right?

"I think I might really have a concussion." You blamed your little incident on your weak knees instead of the real reason that is your gayness. Though nobody could ever blame you for going weak for a woman, they're women for goodness sake!

Natasha knew you weren't serious but was also going to make sure you were going to see a doctor to rule it out officially. "This must be one hell of a bad day then."

"Being held by a beautiful girl is never a bad day." Natasha didn't know what to say. Men always commented on her body in a sexual way and a bunch of women were always body shaming her so hearing your sincere compliment made her feel a lot of different things. "So I have to ask since I'm too curious for my own good. Are you a fan of mine or just a casual music enjoyer?" Before she could answer she was saved by your manager who came running towards you. "Oh thank god you're alright so far. Or do you have other injury I don't know of?"

"She got pretty harsh hits to her head as you can see by all the blood." Natasha stated the obvious. "I'm no doctor but so I can't rule out a concussion." He nodded as he listened closely. "Is it still far to her room?"

He shook his head. "No but there are another set of stairs." That was enough for Natasha to swoop you up in her arms. You let out a yelp, not expecting to be carried - especially not bridal style. This truly made up for being almost beaten unconscious. Shortly after she sat you down gently on a chair, a doctor came in and made a concussion evaluation. While you were busy with the doctor, Natasha checked in with the other Avengers, said she'd come back to the Tower once you were cleared and stitched up. It didn't take long until the tests were over and you had a stitches on your forehead and temple. You ended up only with a mild concussion and thankfully nothing worse. "About that question earlier.. I'm still interested in an answer."

"Unfortunately neither." She said with a heavy heart since she didn't wanted to see you sad but lying to you didn't see the right choice either. You nodded, she noticed you not being sad or disappointed and that got her wondering what you were thinking about her. "Then what's your reason of coming to my show? There are more than two choices here." At that Natasha opened up about being an Avenger, even explained what that is and also about Hydra, you were shocked to hear it all since you apparently missed a bunch of things that were going on. Not long after her explanation you manager rushed you to get to your tour bus since you had a show the next day in another state. That was how you ended up giving her your cell phone number, even boldly told her to call or send a text since you wanted to give back something for her help. And that was exactly what Natasha did the day she knew you finished touring.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

can you make one with matt where the reader used to be a black widow but now she's trying to live a normal life, is dating matt and everything is doing great until elektra comes back and they have all that conversation about running away together, he lefts the reader but matt and elektra end up getting caught along with the defenders, karen and foggy goes after the reader to ask her to rescue them. she and matt talks and you can decide from there (its ok if its a little long)

hii, love this sm. I wasn’t sure about the ending, so it’s kind of up in the air a bit, you’ll see what I mean- it’s up for interpretation. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

also this is based on events from midland circle

me or her

pairing || matt murdock x blackwidow!fem reader

wc || 1.1k

warnings || mentions of weapons, kind of angsty (?)

a/n || I do not hate Elektra- I love her, but it’s just for the storyline

masterlist + rules

taglist

There were three dreaded words that you had hoped would never come out of anyone’s mouth. Those words became a reality when Karen and Foggy called you out of the blue sounding worried, those three awful words were “Matt needs help.” If Matt needed help, you knew it must’ve been bad. You truly would do anything for your boyfriend, even though he’d never actually ask. But he didn’t ask, it was his friends so that confirmed your worst fear; that he was in fact in danger.

As a young girl, you were trained in the Red Room, which meant that you were a very skilled widow. You had managed to escape a few years back and ever since then, you’ve tried your best to live somewhat of a normal life. A few months after leaving you had found Matt, he had become a close confidant and someone special that helped you reintegrate back into the world.

Over those years of dating Matt, you had learned many things about him, especially his complicated relationship towards his college ex-girlfriend. You appreciated the way he’d open up to you about her, but you couldn’t help but dislike her. You hated the way she affected Matt but it wasn’t just out of jealousy, it was something more.

So when Matt found out that Elektra came back from the dead, he completely lost it. She became his every thought, and you began to dislike him for it. You told yourself that he just has a big heart, and wants to help people. But that didn’t always translate to your brain.

Even though you were mad at Matt for going after her, you would still do anything for him, especially if Foggy and Karen asked for your help.

Pulling out a padlocked box of your old weapons from the back of the closet, you pack your bag, filling it with anything you might need. Dressing and padding yourself, you run out of the apartment in an attempt to get to Midland Circle before it was too late.

Karen and Foggy were safe at the police station, and they told you what you needed to know. You felt relieved to find out he wasn’t alone in there and that he had help from a couple of other New York heroes.

Rushing into the building, making your way down the numerous stairs to the basement. Running past the defenders, immediately asking “where’s Daredevil?”

“Underground, you gotta be fast, the whole building is gonna come down.” Danny quickly said.

“He wouldn’t leave her.” Jessica says with a slightly pained smile.

“Go go, before it’s too late.” Luke instructs, pointing you away.

Jumping down the flights of stairs until you make it to the elevator. Attaching a harness to the secure parts of the building, hopping in the lift to take you many levels underground. Looking down you spot him. “Matt! Matt!” You shout out, trying to get his attention.

It seems to have worked because his attempts to stop Elektra became more urgent and desperate. Pulling a pistol from your holster, aiming at her foot to stall her. Jumping off the poorly made lift, you stalk over and yank a pair of batons from behind your back, striking her with them and sending electroshock waves throughout her body.

“What are you doing?” Matt shouts out confused, trying to pull you away.

“That’s not Elektra.” You reply, holding her down.

“I can help her.” He says almost sadly.

“It’s not her, Matt. Your Elektra is gone… this isn’t her.” You empathetically say.

She must’ve sensed your moment of weakness when you turned your attention to your grieving boyfriend because that’s when her knee bolted up to strike you in the stomach. Hitting at her several more times to get her to surrender.

Matt pulls you away from behind, tugging at your waist to stop.

“What are you doing!?” You shout, trying to resist movement.

“I can’t let you kill her.” He says quietly.

You look over to Elektra who was slumped against the wall in pain. “Kill her? Matt, that’s not her. She’s gone!”

“Stop saying that.” He yells, dragging you away.

“Why are you protecting her and not me?” You ask, suddenly realising.

“Just go.” Matt shouts, continuing to pull you.

“Not without you.” Tugging on his arm.

“I can’t leave her.”

“Matt. She died… in your arms. You have to leave her.” Overpowering him and dragging him to the lift.

Pushing him down and strapping him to the metal bars. “Please, Matt?” Sadness growing in your voice.

Hitting the ‘up’ bottom and continuing to hold him down. His struggles became harder to contain but you were almost at the top. Looking down at Elektra, you saw how lost and confused she was. The guilt you felt was horrific, even though she was a weapon of the hand, she was still a person. You knew Matt would never forgive you for this, but you would rather that than him squished under a building.

Heaving him from the lift and up the stairs. It was like he mentally checked out, which made lugging his weight even harder. Wrapping his arm over your shoulder, holding onto his side to support him as you walked out of the building.

Paramedics rush to your side, peeling Matt away from you to check him over. Rushing over to Karen and Foggy, pulling them into a hug while the building behind you began to crumble. Windows exploded with fire as the levels started to cave in.

Looking over, you see Matt who was sitting curled up with his hands over his ears to cover the noise. He didn’t want to hear it because that would mean that Elektra was truly gone- again. You felt your heartbreak, so you excuse yourself to try to comfort him.

Taking a seat next to him in the back of the ambulance. Cautiously thinking of how you could possibly soothe him. “I’m so proud of you.” You say sweetly.

He doesn’t respond, he just rests his head atop your shoulder, quietly soaking in the comfort of your scent. You didn’t know what things would mean for you both now, but you were just happy that he was okay. You just hoped he would be able to understand what you did, and in time hopefully forgive you for it.

Holding his head, blocking his ears so he didn’t have to hear the remaining clatters and crashes of the tumbling building.

Karen and Foggy were finally let past the police, so they rush over to you to hug you both tightly, checking each of you over with worried eyes.

Matt turns to face you, a pained smile across his lips. You weren’t sure what exactly what he was feeling, but you were just so glad that he was next to you right now.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fem!reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #matthew murdock fanfiction #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock blurb #daredevil #black widow #the defenders

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

Billy Russo Drabble

This was my favorite one to write and I hope you guys like it! This man holds a special place in my heart. Which may be slightly concerning. 🤔

Also saw these great dividers by @moonstrider9904 and could not resist using them.

“Hey babe get over here I need warmth!” You yelled across your small apartment for your boyfriend.

While waiting for him to shuffle over, you divert your attention back to your buffering screen.

“Baaaaaaaabe!” You shouted louder. “Get up! You can sleep while we’re cuddling!”

“The wifi out again?” You smiled at his tired New York accent and watched as he walked into the room. The two of you had been together for about a year now, and since getting out of the Marines, Bill had been trying to start his own company. Although as of now it mainly consisted of him emailing potential investors and doing research.

“Yeah, I can’t finish my stupid essay.” You flopped your head on the couch’s armrest and gave your fiancé an inside down smile.

“What’s this one about?” He asked striding over to the router and picking up his laptop as he went.

“They want me to analyze this stuffy text from god knows when.” You aggressively taped your mouse pad in an attempt to reload the page. “Although I don’t know why I need to know about the gold rush when I’m a nursing major. These stupid Gen Ed courses are so boring!”

He snorted at your response while turning the magic wifi box on and off again. “Work now?” He looked up at you expectantly.

You glared at the slow circle on your screen as it continued to swirl, but cheered as it finally loaded. “Yes!”

Billy laughed as he collapsed next to you on the worn couch. “This is why I went into the Marines.” He teased. “When’s this thing due anyways?”

“Tonight.” You said, with a shrug.

He raised an eyebrow at you that you didn’t notice. “And you’re only starting it now?”

“Don’t judge me Bill! I had better things to do, like memorizing different respiratory diseases and getting ready to take my pathophysiology exam.”

You got up from your seat and moved to sit in between his legs. “By the way, what do you know about the gold rush? All I know is that there was gold involved.”

“Gold in the gold rush?” He asked with a laugh. “That’s news to me.”

“Keep pushing me and I will get another cat.” You playfully threatened while scanning the 13 page article.

You felt yourself relax as he started to run his fingers gently through your hair.

“Please don’t. The demon spawn has just now stopped clawing out cabinets.”

“His name is Simba.” You deadpanned. “And I think he needs another brother.”

“Not happening.” He leaned over to kiss you gently on your forehead. “Maybe a dog.”

Your eyes shot open at that and you twirled to look at him. “Really? Because there’s this Pittie mix I saw at the shelter I’ve been looking at. He and his sister were taken in from a dog fighting ring.” You batted your eyes at him and poured.

“We’re not getting two dogs babe.”

But you only smiled. He wear down eventually.

One week later there were two more animals running around your apartment and your fiancé had already sent 20 pictures to his friend Frank.

#reader insert #fanfic #ben barnes #ben barnes x you #ben barnes x reader #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fluff #billy russo fic #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #billy russo the punisher #the punisher au

[yutahoes]

Inconvenient Family

(Surrogate Special Chapter)

characters: Ichika, dad! Yuta Nakamoto, mom! Y/N (with husband! Kun and mentioned husband! Mark)  word count: 2.3k words genre: fluff  summary: Yuta hanging our with his daughter and her mom.  warnings: none that I can think of 

This is a special chapter of Surrogate that is requested by two anons. I want to thank you for liking Surrogate since it is one of the stories I am unsure of writing. Thank you so much 😍 This isn’t much but I hope it made sense and didn’t ruin the main story for the readers. 

taglist: @meowniee @aiforyuu @roohnyk @a-bts-world @thetwinkrenjun @multiyuta @destinyg237 @freshtaledonut @sunshinetaetaev @baehaechannie​ @ytzvivi​ ​ @yujaesbestiee​​ @what-sarah​​ @foreverabrunette​​ @a-place-filled-with-random​​ @anonjyxd​​ @joepomonerof​​ @iwannabreathetosetmefree​​ @brightestmark (These are the users tagged on Surrogate) 

“Papa!” Ichika shouted running towards him, making Yuta grin. He just landed in New York for a stopover from his business trip and what better way to enjoy his 24 hours in the city than to hang out with his daughter. 

For the summer vacation, Ichika stayed with Y/N and Kun and he missed her terribly. So when he came from Brazil, he decided to stop in New York and come see his daughter. “I miss you, papa.” 

“Me too, princess.” he whispered. “Are you having fun here?” 

The six-year-old kid nodded, smiling in the same toothy smile like him. “Mommy, daddy, and grandma take care of me a lot,” she said fluently then looked around. “Where’s daddy Mark?” 

“He had to go to Canada but he’ll come here tomorrow. We can see him then.” 

“Can we, mommy?” she asked with her big, bright eyes that made the older girl giggle. 

Y/N nodded, “Of course, honey.” Yuta stood up then kissed her on the cheek, “I’m so surprised when you said you’re stopping over.” He giggled. It’s always a spontaneous trip when they’re visiting them. “Have you booked a hotel? Or do you want to stay at our place? Mom would be happy to see you.”

Yuta grinned. “I already booked a hotel but I’ll visit auntie,” he claimed that made her nod. “Where’s Kun?”      

“Daddy has an emergency surgery,” Ichika answered for her. “Papa, he’s so cool. He cures people. I want to be like daddy when I grow up.” 

Her mom giggled, crouching down to fix her shirt. “I thought you wanted to be like me.” 

“I also want to be like you mommy. And like daddy Mark and papa.” She grinned, making Y/N smile. 

They do look alike. If put side by side, no one can ever mistake Ichika as Y/N’s daughter. Now, he wonders if Ichika would grow up looking exactly like her mom. He hoped not. He’ll be sure Ichika will have a lot of suitors when that time comes and he’s not ready to give away his daughter for marriage. 

"I'll leave you and papa to hang out," Y/N told the younger girl which startled Yuta. She’s not coming with them? "Just call me if you need anything, Yuta." 

"Are you busy?" 

She smiled then shook her head, "But I don't want to bother you and Ichika." 

He chuckled just as the younger girl held her mother's hand, "Let's hang out. The three of us." 

It was a shift. If his past self were to see him, he'll be proud that he strolled New York with the girl he loves and a younger girl who looked exactly like her. But he didn't know if past Yuta will be proud of their relationship. 

It was an inconvenient family, that was what others would tell him. It seemed so wrong in the eyes of others but as long as Ichika was happy with it, and understood it, he didn't care about society. He loves his daughter and he loves Mark as well. He cannot choose one over the other. 

There are times when he would always think of what might happen if he didn't go to Mark in Canada after Ichika was born. Maybe he'll be a divorced, single father. Worst, he might fail to keep his daughter by his side. He was lucky that Mark still loves him even though he hid the truth from him. 

It was his fault, Yuta knew. He should have told Mark the first time he slept with Y/N. He shouldn't have hidden from him that the surrogate his husband liked is his ex-girlfriend, the first love he cannot move on from. He should have told Mark the first time Y/N came to their home. He should have told Mark when the feelings started coming back for her. 

But he was scared. He cannot hurt the person who gave him utmost happiness. He cannot hurt the person who taught him how to love again.

"Daddy Mark would love this," Ichika claimed, handing Yuta a watermelon plushie. He laughed then nodded, Mark would really love that. "Mommy, can I buy this for daddy Mark?" 

The same person who showed so much love for his daughter. 

Yuta glanced at Y/N who nodded while giving her cash. The younger ran to the crowd, the older girl following her with a look. "She saved a lot of money from helping around." She noted which made him smile. Ichika has always been active and helpful like that. His husband says she got it from Yuta's attitude but he highly doubts that. They just raised Ichika to be always helpful to others. 

Y/N's phone rang, she excused herself to answer it and he nodded. When Ichika came back, she looked for her but only nodded when Yuta said that she was on the phone. "Mommy is always like that," the younger shrugged, "She's famous so she talks to a lot of people." 

"Papa, do you think mommy would like it if I learn ballet?" 

Yuta chuckled, ruffling her hair. "I'm pretty sure mommy will support you on that." Ichika smiled. "Papa, daddy Mark, and daddy Kun will watch and cheer for you." 

"It's so great having many daddies." She exclaimed, making Yuta chuckle. He was just glad Ichika is positive about this set-up. 

The two decided to meet up with Y/N outside the store but she was talking to an elegant older lady with a smile on her face. “Mrs. Long, this is my daughter Ichika and…” 

“The rumors are true. Your husband is really handsome.” Y/N just smiled when the older woman extended her hand, “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Qian.” Should he correct her or not? He just held her hand, shaking it and then smiling. 

“I’ll just join Mrs. Long for a while. Can I leave you and Ichika together?” Yuta nodded, claiming that she can. “I’ll just meet you in Per Se, Ichika knows where that is.” 

“We’re eating there?” Ichika’s eyes were bright and wide as she said those words that made her mom nod while laughing. She must have really liked the food there. “Their truffles are amazing!” 

Y/N giggled, “We’ll get the truffles for dessert.” She claimed while rubbing the younger’s cheek. “Have fun and show papa around, hmm?” Ichika nodded enthusiastically. “I’m sorry if she had mistaken you, she hasn’t met Kun before.” Yuta smiled, muttering that it was alright. “I’ll see you later.”  

When she left, Ichika already pulled Yuta inside an accessory shop. “I’m going to make rings for all of you.” She claimed then took out her remaining money to buy a family set which includes only three plastic rings in pink, blue, and white with some beads. “Can I get another set with two blue rings and a pink one?” She asked fluently but the attendant shook her head saying that the materials were pre-packed. “But I have three daddies.” The older woman looked at Yuta in surprise. 

“We’ll buy two sets more,” Yuta claimed while handing his card. 

The younger kid sighed looking at three sets of pink, blue, and white rings. “There are too many pink and white rings.” Yuta chuckled then explained, “We can give one to your grandma and the two to mommy. Then you can have all the white rings.” 

She grinned before handing him the pink ring, “Then you make the other one for mommy, papa.” 

Yuta smiled while putting a single piece of gem on top of the plastic ring, designing it. Come to think of it, this is the first time he’ll give Y/N a ring. And it’s a plastic ring. He had always reasoned with himself that he was still in college when they were dating and that he cannot afford to give her a ring. That he’ll just put a ring on her finger when they get married. A thing that he didn’t fulfill until the end. 

He realized he isn’t the best boyfriend back then. That he’s selfish for keeping her to himself and leaving her when she needed him the most just because of his insecurities. He fully realized that it was his fault why they had failed as a couple. “Ichika,” he asked which made the younger girl hum, “Do you want papa and mommy to be together?” 

“You are together.” 

Yuta smiled, “No, like daddy Mark and papa together.” 

Ichika seemed to think at first but she quickly returned to what she was doing so Yuta just shrugged. Maybe she hasn’t thought about it. “If you and mommy are together, I won’t have a hard time moving from one country to another.” Yuta knew that it must be difficult for Ichika. Being his and hers kid is frustrating enough but she also had to move to different countries just to see the other parent. “And that would make everything easier to explain.” 

He chuckled. How can those words come out of a six-year-old kid? But he’s glad he asked for he slowly understood Ichika’s struggle. “But if you and mommy get together, I won’t have daddy Mark and daddy Kun.” she claimed as Yuta stared at her in awe, “That’s the worst.” 

Yuta laughed. Why did she suddenly sound like Mark? But Ichika is right. What they have right now is better than anything.  

He was surprised that Ichika knows a lot about New York. She toured him in Central Park where she claimed Kun would always bring her on his day off. He also saw the row of theaters where Y/N performs and even saw a poster of her performance. She really had reached her dream. 

He did as well, with her help. 

And that is Ichika. 

"Mommy!" Ichika greeted, walking briskly to where her mom was. Y/N gave her a kiss on the top of her head, asking if she enjoyed the tour. "I had fun. And I bought you this." she said before taking a velvet box from her bag.

"Did you make this?" Y/N asked while slipping the ring on her finger. "Thank you, baby." Ichika even showed the three rings she had, even boasting that all rings were made by her papa. 

Watching them interact made Yuta smile. A part of his heart would always go crazy whenever seeing them together. 

His girls, together. 

"Papa also made you a ring," Ichika claimed that made Y/N look at Yuta. He handed her the velvet box that made the older woman smile. She slipped the ring on the finger of her other hand, looking at the two rings on both her hands. "It looks good on you, mommy." the younger grinned widely. 

"Thank you, Yuta." Y/N whispered with a smile. He loves seeing her smile. Mark is right, he can't shake off the feelings he had for her. He's glad the person he loves understands. And that she forgave him for everything. "Did Ichika tire you out?" 

Yuta shook his head, laughing at how Ichika seemed like a New Yorker already which made the younger girl grin widely. "Did you order truffles, mommy?" She tucked a loose strand of hair behind Ichika's ear before nodding and explaining that the chef specifically told her that he'll put strawberries on the truffles since she loves it. "Is daddy Kun coming?" Y/N nodded. 

“This must be an expensive place,” Yuta claimed, eyeing the interior of the restaurant. Didn’t he read this restaurant in Michelin guides? “How did you get a reservation?” 

“Kun did. He knows the owner from the hospital and the chef is a fan of mine.” Wow, they’re large scale. “You can order anything you want, it’s not every day you’re here in New York. I just wish Mark is here, their watermelon shake is amazing.” Ichika nodded. 

The girl let Yuta choose the 12-course meal that they’ll have with the aid of Ichika as Kun came while handing a rose to Y/N and carnations for Ichika. “Long time no see, Yuta.” he greeted before looking around, “Where’s Mark?” 

Yuta had to explain that he made a quick stop in Canada before inferring about Kun’s work. Y/N and Ichika both excused themselves to freshen up. It wasn’t that awkward talking to Kun now compared to before. He used to be so cautious about talking to him but Y/N’s husband is just a great guy. They had a casual conversation about jobs and businesses and then about Ichika. 

Their gazes were then diverted to the two girls walking to where they are. “She looks so happy,” Yuta noted, smiling. “Thank you for keeping your promise, Kun.”

“I’ll do anything for her, Yuta.” The doctor smiled with his dimples peeking from his cheeks, “I’m just happy that she’s receiving a lot of love.” He whispered which made Yuta nod. “Thank you for still loving her.”  

Yuta smiled timidly. Of course. He’ll do anything for her, as well. 

When she sat down beside Kun, Ichika beside Yuta, the older girl looked at the two while asking what they were talking about. Her husband shook his head before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, smiling at her. “I miss you.” The girl giggled while looking at him with a confused expression. “Did you have fun with Ichika and Yuta today?” 

The other guy just stared at the interaction between the two. Kun was right. After all years of doubting herself if she deserves to be loved, she should receive more love than she ever gave. When she leaned on Kun’s shoulder, showing the two rings on her hands, he knew those two belong to each other. “God, I miss Mark.” 

Y/N laughed. "Me too." Ichika followed up with, "Me three." And Kun said 'Me four' in a playful manner. 

Yuta smiled. He can't undo the past and, honestly, he didn't want to. 

Because this, the love and happiness that they have as an inconvenient family, is what makes Yuta's dreams come to life. 

A happy family of his own. 

Surrogate Special Chapter: Miracle

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #nakamoto yuta fluff #surrogate

[sl-newsie]

New York At Christmas (Peter Parker x OC) *Christmas Special*

Summary: A newcomer visits the Rockefeller Center during Christmas time and meets a certain spider nerd. Is it just the magic of Christmas, or is there another warm feeling in the air? (Takes place after NWH)

“Ey, I’m walk’n here!” The angry man next to me continues to shout at the cab across the street.

“Cool!” I chuckle to myself. “He said the thing! I guess I really am in New York now!”

I’ve only been here half a week and I’m already taken back by the unfamiliar hustle and bustle of New York. The only reason I’m in town is to start at a nearby photography school next month, so obviously being from the country I’m certainly not used to the crowd.

“Watch it, lady!” Another taxi speeds past.

Although the gorgeous and grand Christmas ambiance has been magical, I can’t say the same for the people. It’s a miracle I haven’t run into trouble with gangs or muggers yet. I know it’s dangerous to walk at night, but how else am I supposed to enjoy the Christmas lights?

“I’ll never be able to hail a taxi,” I mutter to myself. “Guess I’ll take the long way to the park.”

Since I’m still new to the subway maps I’ve been having trouble navigating my way throughout the boroughs. My apartment is in Queens, but my destination is located in Midtown Manhattan.

I try to slink through the crowd without bumping into anyone, but am quick to fail. After I nearly run into a rugged, ferocious-looking brute, he grabs my arm and yanks me to face him.

“Watch where you’re going!” He barks. “Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

“Let her go, Travis. She won’t hurt anyone.” A voice speaks up from behind. It’s calm, but also firm.

The man called Travis huffs in annoyance and shoves me forward, almost making me lose my balance as I grip my purse. Thankfully the one who spoke on my behalf catches me, and I come face-to-face with a pair of soft brown eyes.

“H-Hi,” I stutter. 

“Hello,” the man says kindly. “That’s just Travis, he doesn’t bite. And where are you off to?” 

“Oh- right!” I catch my breath.  “The Rockefeller Center!”

He laughs. “Ah, another tourist!”

“Actually, no,” I correct him. “I live here now and I’ve always wanted to see the Rockefeller Christmas tree, so I figured I’d take advantage of my new lodgings.”

“Oh! That’s gotta be tough. Do you… want me to take you there? So you don’t get lost?” The man holds out a hand in friendship. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

My instincts say this man is trustworthy, so I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker. I’m Sarah. Sarah Williams. And yes, I’d love it if you showed me the way before I end up in a ditch.”

We both laugh and Peter gestures for me to follow him. Now that I’ve calmed down I can get a better look at him as we make our way through the concrete jungle. He’s almost a foot taller than me. Soft eyes, a few strands of brown hair poking out from under a winter knit cap, navy coat, jeans, and sneakers. I wanna say he’s around my age, but don’t want to assume anything.

“So it’s true what they say? ‘If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere?’”

Peter chuckles. “In a way, I guess. So Sarah, how are you liking New York?” He asks with genuine curiosity.

“Too loud,” I immediately answer, at which Peter laughs. “I’m serious! It was loud in the country, but with birds and the sound of rushing water. Not honking horns and screaming people. How can you stand it?”

Peter thinks for a minute. By now we’ve turned multiple corners, leading me to wonder how much longer we need to keep walking. I always forget just how big the city is.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s hidden gems throughout this place that I love. Certain restaurants, news stands, heck even the harbor has a great view.”

“View?” His comment sticks in my head. “What, do you climb the Williamsburg Bridge or something?”

I could be bonkers, but I swear I hear Peter mutter “You could say that” under his breath.

The TV blares overhead, outlining the top story about the latest sighting of the hero known as Spider-Man.

“Oh, I forgot all about him! Does he ever swing through Queens? That’s where my apartment is, and I was hoping to maybe snap a few practice pictures.

Peter looks at me as if I’ve just offered him a million bucks. “Are you kidding? I’m into photography too!”

“Seriously? That’s awesome!” My brain starts whizzing with ecstatic thoughts. “Could you maybe give me some pointers? Or maybe… Do you know where to find Spider-Man?”

He seems to be contemplating an argument in his head, and it makes me wonder if I said something upsetting.

“Is that wrong of me? I’m sorry if I-”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Peter reassures me. “I… actually might be able to set up something with him.”

My jaw drops. “Really? Are you guys, like, best buds or something?” I tease.

Peter suddenly gets a panicked look and gives a nervous chuckle. “Hehe… Oh! Here we are!” Peter quickly changes the subject.

My eyes look up to see-

“Oh my God!” My jaw drops. 

TV and Instagram can never show the amount of wonder and majesty that this scene gives off. The giant tree alone is enough to make me feel my childhood Christmas memories glowing inside me, and looking down at the gorgeous skating rink makes my giddy heart skip.

“Peter, this is- is…”

“Indescribable?” In my dazed state I hardly notice the kind man take my hand and help lead me down the stairs. “Most people say that. There’s something about New York at Christmas that has a certain feeling to it, like something out of an old Christmas card.”

My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out. “Exactly! Like there’s a piece of vintage Christmas magic! I- Wait. Where are we going?”

Peter’s led me to the skating rink, which I’m surprised to find is not very busy.

“You’re gonna have the full experience!” Before I can get a word in, Peter walks over to the stand and pays for two sets of ice skates. “I’m guessing you’re a size 6, right?”

“Yeah… But I don’t know how to skate,” I say glumly and avoid looking up. “I was only planning on seeing the tree.”

I expect Peter to laugh, but he surprises me by instead giving me a kind smile and offering a hand.

“I could teach you, if you want? And if you don’t like it, um… We could go for hot chocolate?”

“I’m just going to look like an idiot, that’s-” I stop myself and rethink Peter’s sentence. “Wait a minute, are you asking me out?”

His brown eyes turn wild and nervous, helping me determine his intentions through obvious body language. At first I’dve said absolutely not, but… Call me crazy, but talking with Peter for twenty minutes has made me feel like I've known him my whole life. He’s not crazy or angry like other people I’ve met here, he’s… smart, quirky, and absolutely adorable. I’d be stupid not to say yes!

“Because if you are, I would say yes.” 

My words seem to spark a whole new wave of emotions in Peter, flashing from excited, to troubled, to nostalgic. Now I’ve got to rethink everything. Is he asking me out, or am I making a complete idiot of myself?

“Sarah, I- Yes, I’d like to ask you out. The only thing is that… I have a very scattered schedule, and can’t always make concrete plans. And…” Peter gets a cloudy and distant look. “Sometimes I need to stay cautious about the people I care about, meaning I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Peter’s confession leaves me a bit confused, but still grateful for his honesty. To show comfort, I take his hand to give it a squeeze.

“I can look after myself, Peter. I don’t need a babysitter. I’d love to go out with you because of how funny and charming you are, not because of making plans. I can’t always make plans either, so I try to go on a play-it-by-ear basis.”

Peter is delighted by my reaction, and shows it by sweeping me in for a sudden hug.

“Oh- right, sorry.” He pushes away with a sheepish grin. “I’m a hugger, just a forewarning.”

“I don’t mind at all!” I laugh. “So does that offer to get hot chocolate still stand?”

Peter’s eyes sparkle as he takes my hand and starts leading me towards the skating rink. “Yeah. As soon as I’ve taught you how to skate!”

My mind starts panicking and I try to tug him away. “Uh, haha. How ‘bout no? I can’t skate, remember?”

“You wanted to see the Rockefeller Center,” Peter recollects as he helps me lace up my skates. “So you will, up close and personal!”

You are indeed a unique individual, Peter Parker.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland spiderman #spider man x reader #spider man fanfiction #spider man #spiderman #tom holland #christmas time #christmas lights #new york #new york christmas #rockefeller center #marvel #marvel x reader

[eroticwound]

okay some hannibal/the bear au thoughts under the cut for the anon, with a shout out to @asordidbarwere who indulged me by contributing their deranged bear/hannibal thoughts.

so, to start, i’m thinking of the similarities and differences between carmy and will. like will, carm is an isolated person, which is just how hannibal likes it. he’s a prime candidate for hannibal’s influence.

like will, carm is unstable but white knuckling it. he’s sleep-walking like will, which implies there is a lot going on with the character that they are not consciously addressing. i also think of their symbolic dreams—will’s stag and carm’s bear—how dreams bleed into real life in both shows, blatantly in hannibal, and a little more subtly on the bear (i think of the bear growling carm hears staring into the fire in ep 8, or even ball breaker talking to fak).

where will is fluid—like oil or water, taking the shape of anyone his empathy touches—carmen is fire. the controlled fire of the kitchen usually, medium heat, simmering, but add enough stress you get an explosion. and hannibal loves playing with fire.

i love the idea of hannibal getting carm to cook for him, to cater a soirée where hanni’s supplying the meat.

… or even better, hannibal cooking for carm, whose stomach is fucked. hannibal wanting to nourish him with his special meats… the possibility of feeding richie to carmen… i mean richie would absolutely hate hannibal’s pretentious european ass, and hannibal would absolutely see richie as a pig. cold cuts. bologna. like richie’s not going in a fancy dish, he’s gonna be in a sloppy sandwich.

or, better still, richie would go in a dish carmen makes as some mystery meat hannibal provided >:) g-d, and if carmy ever found out he cooked and ate richie? his brother’s best friend? that would fucking *break him*. his delicate stomach would revolt. it would destroy food for him, because he would never be able to get away from the taste of richie. i could see this pushing carm to the edge. unmooring him in some fundamental way. if hannibal was also using some creative pharmacology, he could maybe get carmy to kill this way… a deranged carmen curious about the flavors of those around him? cooking and eating people as a way for him to get close to them, the “logical” progression of cooking with them, which is currently the only way carmen knows how to be close with people—sublime.

and *that* would be a fascinating dynamic for hannibal in particular. will was able to empathize with him, to hunt with and fathom him. but carmen would *get* the cooking in a fundamental way will never could. hannibal could collaborate with carm on what dishes to make people into. what pairings and ingredients to bring out the best flavors. g-d, maybe carmen couldn’t kill… but he could cook.

i said it in my other post, but i *love* the idea of carmen and hannibal cooking together. i feel like for hannibal, cooking with someone is a step below the intimacy of killing together. it’s sensual and soul-bearing. and watching carm work would bring hannibal to tears, like listening to the opera singer in season 1. for carm it would make him feel close and protected. you see it with him and syd. but cooking with hannibal would invoke michael in a deliciously painful way. like cooking is both of their love languages, and i think they’d really get on well together in the kitchen. carm is a professional, but respectful. diffident. hannibal would love carmen taking control in the kitchen. he would have carmy focused on an intricate dish, and while carm is disarmed and vulnerable and a little distracted, hannibal would add pressure to all of carm’s various wounds: his new york kitchen trauma, his anxiety, his chef’s ego (which hannibal would approve of…), his anger/hurt/betrayal/guilt that is michael. the fucking sleep-walking!!!

hannibal would take special care to prod the michael wound in particular. @asordidbarwere brings up a great point about michael’s note, if hannibal knew about it before carm (which is so hannibal, being the devil himself):

Omg hanni would use the knowledge that mikey *stashed drug money* for carmy's benefit, to absolutely play him like a fiddle. I think hannibal would simply invoke Michael's memory at the worst possible moments~

this is really something i can get behind! beyond hannibal using the note to drive a wedge between carm and richie (and maybe sugar too, because michael’s last words were for carmen alone), the emphasize asordidbarwere puts on it being drug money for carmy adds this extra twist of guilt. like thanks jasper <3

because i think even without knowledge of the note, this is a dynamic hannibal would pick up on—the dynamic being michael sacrificing himself for carmy to be more legit.

i mean i’m sure carm’s not squeaky clean, but he’s a character who’s been shown to try to do things by the book despite his family’s association with cicero/betting/whatever. he emphasizes that only marcus and richie have cars, but richie’s license is suspended. then makes syd drive richie later in the episode.

like it’s clear michael wanted carmy to be legit. he didn’t want him at the bear, in the midst of whateverthefuck was going on there (for sure selling drugs and maybe money laundering? and who knows what their dad was into). michael wanted his baby brother to go out there and be a professional without criminal baggage.

mikey’s been sacrificing himself since the beginning, and that’s not something carmen was able to really see until later. hell, the fact that carm realizes he knows nothing about mikey, would be such a sweet spot of pressure hannibal would love to exploit.

who was michael, really? richie knew, but not carmen. hannibal would poke and pick at that. the fact that michael was a father figure almost more than a brother. i mean, carm’s entire fucked up family structure, the obvious trauma he has with his mom (who canonically has anger issues and is probably mentally ill), his absent father, sugar and michael are his siblings but also like parents (which implies a weird lack of boundaries… like the older berzatto siblings were def parentified). whatever guilt carm might harbor for being a burden on his siblings and mother.

and *fuck*, don’t get me started with syd! who craves recognition, who’s talented and capable and a ruthless problem solver. hannibal would be smitten! would try to influence her like abigail or margot or chiyoh. he would stoke the fire he senses in her, would *latch* onto her stabbing richie, would push her to do something like du maurier: set up a situation where she would *have to kill*. and her cooking skills would titillate hannibal just as much carm

some @asordidbarwere thoughts on carmy and syd and hannibal to round out this incredibly long, incredibly deranged au braindump:

I think syd would actually murder him tho. I mean she stabbed richie on *accident*, I feel like her & carmy would end up in a will/abigail situation w Hanni but I think syd would just fucking stab him and make carmy help her hide the body

Carm's just like 😰😰😰

if she managed it lol. It is hannibal after all

#carmy berzatto #hannibal #the bear #sydney adamu #hannibal lecter #richie jerimovich #michael berzatto #will graham #bear bait au #it’s my unhinged side blog and i can use the gift of imagination to hallucinate toxic manipulative relationships if i want #i should do one of these for syd tbqh #bear meta #kinda

[space-mermaid-writing]

could you write something where Reader and Stephen are married and have a son but something goes wrong in your universe maybe it was stephens fault maybe not but he dies. Somehow reader and her kid get relocated to another universe (616) and are just out going for a walk when the kid starts getting excited and shouting look it's dad, hey dad and runs over and hugs 616 stephen and stephen looks so perplexed and the kid is still hugging him and you have to pull him off and explain that yes that's stephen but not your stephen that his dad is gone and just basically just stab me in the feelings lol and whatever stephens reaction to this would be? 🌌

Tags: feels

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 1044

Chapter's Note: You want to be stabbed in the feelings? I‘ll stab you in the feelings! Here you go. Have fun. - I wrote this last night, so it‘s a bit of a mess. Just like it needs to be.

Life could be better. It became simpler after you had jumped universes. But you struggled. You hadn’t jumped by choice. Neither you nor your son had.

Your universe had been dying. An incursion caused by the very man you loved, the father of your son. He hadn’t done it on purpose, it had been an accident. A terrible, irreversible mistake. And he had used the last of his magic to bring you both here. To safety.

You would have preferred to die with Stephen. But your son should live, that had been Stephen's wish and you respected that, trying your best now as a widow and single mother.

This new universe was similar enough that you were able to integrate well. Similar enough that you sometimes forgot what happened, only to be reminded the next moment of what was missing at your side: Stephen. It stabbed your heart every time.

Your son, Vince, was six years old, had just finished pre-school and had experienced enough magic in his short life that he understood the explanation that his father was on another world without the possibility of ever coming back.

He missed him terribly. So did you.

You built a new life for yourselves. A modest one, without magic, without dangers. You lived in the suburbs, far away from New York. The city held too many memories of what you had lost, and you couldn't bear to be reminded of that every day. Besides, there was the danger of running into someone there who recognized your face. It was better not to spend too much time there.

That said, however, now you are back in New York with Vince for a short visit. Your son had begged you for weeks to visit his favorite museum, the AMNH. He loved it and they currently had a special exhibition about dinosaurs.

You had eventually given in and promised him this trip. And Vince loved it.

Afterwards you went to Central Park and to look for his favorite ice cream stand. It didn't exist in this world, but you found waffles that were just as good. Eating them you sat on a bench and enjoyed the sunshine.

Vince was so happy that it was worth it. And you are also feeling better than you thought you would. Your arrival in this universe had been two years ago, maybe you could finally move on.

The park was a popular place, full of people walking their dogs or sitting on blankets on the grass reading or picnicking. Everyone was in a good mood and it was contagious.

Suddenly, Vince jumped up excitedly. "Daddy!" He dropped the rest of his waffle and ran across the meadow. Startled, you almost choked before hurrying to follow him. Your eyes are wide as you spot Vince standing by a man who really looked like Stephen Strange.

Shit.

Of all the eight million people in this city, you had to run into him. You shouldn't have made the mistake of coming so close to Greenwich.

This Stephen had stopped, looking down at the boy in confusion. Next to him was a teenage girl you didn’t recognize.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you saw the spitting image of your deceased love. How were you going to explain this to Vince?

Vince had his little arms wrapped around Stephen's waist. "Daddy!" he cried joyfully at the reunion.

"I'm so sorry." You rush to pull your son away from him. "You look just very similar to his father. Sorry to bother you."

Your head hung low and you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. But Vince wasn't having it. Understandably he was being difficult about the situation, so you picked him up.

"Y/N?" this other Stephen asked, and you close your eyes for a moment before putting on a neutral expression and slowly turning to face him. Hearing your name out of his mouth brought back old memories. Painfully fond memories.

"Hey..." It was awkward and you had no idea what to say. Of course, he knows you in this world too, even if you don't know what kind of relationship you have here.

Stephen tried to assess the situation. His eyebrows drawn together as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

Now, that you could see him close, you notice that he looked a little different than your Stephen. Good thing, because you don't know if you could stand it otherwise.

When no one said anything, you raised your voice again. "Sorry again. I didn't mean to bother you and… your daughter?" Your gaze briefly wandered to the teenager, who was watching you thoughtfully.

"She's not my daughter," Stephen said at the same moment she stated, "You're not from here."

You took her statement as a way out of here. "That's right. And we gotta leave."

"No, I mean, you're not from this universe."

Double shit.

Stephen raised his eyebrows.

"Mommy, why is daddy so weird?" Vince asked softly on your arm. You gave him a kiss on the forehead to calm him down.

"I think you have some explaining to do," the wrong Stephen said.

"No." You shifted your stand and looked at him. "No, I don't think I have to." With that, you turned and left. The situation was too much. Both for you and for Vince. Your top was wet at the shoulder, where he was sobbing into your shirt. He didn't understand why the man who looked like his father and talked like his father didn't act like his father.

"Y/N." His voice made you stop, but you didn't turn around. "We can take you back to your home."

"There's nothing left to go back to." It hurt to say the words and a lump formed in your throat.

There was a brief pause in which Stephen seemed to contemplate things. "In your universe, you and I... he..." You looked at him, tears forming in your eyes. You nodded, unable to speak. "What's his name?" Stephen asked.

"Vince Strange."

With that, you left without another glance back.

Maybe one day you'd be strong enough to seek out the Sanctum. When your heart was no longer bleeding. When Vince was old enough to demand more answers.

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

Okay, but imagine: a young adult Vince coming to the Sanctum to meet the man that’s the closest being to his own lost father. To talk to him, to get an idea of what his real father has been like. Are you crying? Good. You’re welcome.

#Stephen Strange #Stephen Strange x reader #Multiverse of Madness #Mom #angst/comfort #Angst #Space Mermaid Writing #feelings #crying #stab me in my feelings

[dildoteamtaskforce]

So, I just finished played through the entire Deus Ex franchise and I still can't recommend it enough. The best part is that it sells stupidly cheap whenever Steam has a sale going.  That said, the Embracer Group is saying that they want sequels and remakes. Sequels are fine. We could use another adventure to tie Jensen's stories to JC Denton. Remakes, however, are VERY dangerous territories. The original is widely considered, by many, to be their favorite game of all time. I agree. Why fix what isn't broken? Why mess with perfection? Well, it isn't perfect. Time has started to show the cracks. 

The game is beloved for it's hammy voice acting and immersive gameplay. For the time it was made, it did a FANTASTIC job illustrating that you're playing about 5 minutes before the end of the world. That said, the game is sparse nowadays. Especially compared to the prequels. Mods like GMDX and Revision have done their share to modernize it, but there's only so much they can do. A remake of the first Deus Ex would have to retain the general layout of the original game. That's non-negotiable. The real challenge would be working with modernizing augmentations and skills. The first game used XP, to be allocated at the player's discretion, to upgrade different skills. Lockpicking, hacking, pistols, ect. Augs were upgraded with upgrade canisters. The prequels did away with skill points to just focus on augs. XP would build up to new Praxis kits to upgrade augs. Besides upgrading them that way, you could always purchase Praxis kits or find them in the world. Still, they can’t just sacrifice aspects like lockpicks and multitools. Some skills are redundant like weapons abilities. Others, like technical skills, seem logical to keep. Still, that doesn’t cover how your augs could grow naturally as you gain XP.

If they do remake the original, I'd love to see more shout outs to the prequels. I always liked to think that the free clinic in Hell's Kitchen was a repurposed LIMB clinic. Mankind Divided did a great job in showing that the golden age was over. They can keep it going. Touching on how sparse the original looks, Human Revolution and Mankind Divided spoiled plenty of people with their "clutter porn" environments, too. To see the rundown, warzone streets of New York again with that design outlook would be great. If they kept the special dialogue between NPCs, it’d be perfect. Every time you returned to New York, it looked worse. It really illustrated that the United States was a third-world country that was on the brink of dying.

Some shout outs to earlier games would be welcome too. The prequels did a lot to change aesthetically to resemble the original. Moreover, they had a lot of small details that mentioned organizations or individuals in the original game. Signs for Tai Yong Medical or an e-mail in one of the triad bases talking about the Dvali. Stuff like that. The prequels also built a VERY large expanded universe. It’d be good to tie up those loose ends by the time of the original game. Of course, the remake would have to keep a basis in the newer mechanics. Cover, takedowns, bigger environments. If they keep the original layouts, they'd still have to expand upon them. There's no way to fuck up improving the character models. After the prequels, mech augs look almost silly with light blue metal jutting over clothing. If they give us Gunther Hermann with black augs and his trademark red eyes... hoo boy.  At the very least, they could make JC and Paul Denton look like 20-somethings instead of 40-somethings.

 They’d have to touch up the voice acting. That’s contentious because the bad voice acting is loved by fans of the original. “JC Denton. In da fresh.” Funny as that may be, it couldn’t work nowadays. Now, Jay Anthony Franke still does occasional VO work so he might return to voice JC and Paul again. That said, if JC and Paul ARE clones of Adam Jensen, Elias Toufexis could always lend his voice.  All in all, if they stay true to the basics of making an immersive sim and the basics of their own Deus Ex prequels, a remake of the original should work. As for Invisible War, there's no changes they could make that wouldn't make the game instantaneously better. They could honestly spare to rewrite entire chunks of Invisible War. There's no satisfying ending. Not really. The gameplay was built to be less of an immersive sim/RPG and more of a corridor shooter with RPG elements, built for consoles. There's potential, but it's under SO MANY layers of crap.

#Victor. Shut up about your favorite game franchise of all time.

[werewolfrevenge]

Uhhh kinda hypnotic insanity chapter one?

This is just focusing on team vigilante (yes I’m calling them teams like s0nic heroes, also setting up their dynamic with eachother nothing too serious errr anyhow

It’d already been a long week in general Casey just wanted to relax for once shit the best vigilante in nyc has gotten that wish so far hell the black haired vigilante was even about to get to have some special time with the hottest babe in the world well that was until Leon pushed Casey off of him and put a finger over Casey’s lips

Casey gave a loud huff “Ay what’s wro-“ Leon quickly cut Casey off “I hear something no someone near the fire escape” Leon’s words were hushed a low whisper, Casey’s attitude immediately shifted going on high alert grabbing a nearby baseball left haphazardly against the couch. The window to the fire escape rattled loudly before it open a gush of cold New York winter weather flowing into the poor joneses apartment but whatever….or whoever landed into the apartment with a loud THUD

Casey throw the baseball bat at the intruder to which Leon shot Casey a confused expression almost as if to say “really? Throw our only line of defense? At the attacker?” Casey turned to Leon and gave a sheepish shrug, the bat hit its target who hissed in pain “what the fuck case?” A voice called out both Leon and Casey’s guards immediately dropped, Leon groaned in annoyance while Casey immediately perked up and hugged the mysterious figure while Leon turned on the lights to reveal Rapheal who currently wear a brown trench coat and hat “Yo! Raph what’s up dude ya gave me a big scare ya can’t just break into someone’s apartment man!” Casey’s voice was a mixture of amusement and some minor frustration. Rapheal sighed softly “look m-“ the hot tempered turtle paused “what pronouns are yeh usin’ today case?” Casey titled their head before gaining a goofy smile and putting raph into a headlock “it’s a girl day!” She answered happily.

Raph grunted at the sudden headlock before he just let it go “alright then sorry doll….its just look I gotta there’s somethin’ really important really crazy yeh feel?” He asked as he broke away from the headlock quickly deciding he didn’t want to let it go Raphael pushed her away with a frustrated look, Leon cleared his throat with an unamused expression “well it better be damn good to just enter into our apartment like you own the place!” The telekinetic put a hand on his hips with a stern motherly expression which caused both Raphael and Casey to settle down completely Casey was more so the one actually worried by the stern look she knew that look…..she’d prefer not to poke an angry bear with a stick!. Rapheal held up his hands in defense “okay yeh just calm down!” He exclaimed as he pointed one of his only three fingers at Leon who scowled “tell us why ya came here or I’m going sho-“

Leon got cut off by Casey who used her hand to cover her fiancé’s mouth up quickly to avoid any further infighting of the group “okay raph what he just said” Casey didn’t actually remember what Leon had just said but if she pretended she did then everything would be okay! Raphael grunted in frustration as he sat down on the ledge of the fire escape “alright well I’m a father now!” Both Leon and Casey’s eyes widened Casey jaw went slack and Leon’s nose twitched before both shouted out “WHAT?” Leon followed up the what with rapid fire questions “like is this biological adoption? Did ya steal a baby? Raphie? What the actual fuck?” Leon hissed in frustration or fear neither Casey or raph could tell!. Raphael closed his eyes and started gesturing with his hands a common occurrence with him “soooo I broke into a run down test facility and maybe I found a lil’ baby turtle….maybe hypothetically”

Leon blinked “so that just makes me think you did that” Casey also blinked “babe he only said hypothetically that doesn’t mean it’s true” Leon shot Casey a quick glare “babe?” “Yeah?” “It’s quite pretty time” Casey blinked in confusion before pouting “ahh screw ya!” She replied before she laid her hand onto Leon’s shoulder Leon just patted her head in response, raph finally spoke up again “fine yeah….thats what happened but look she was a baby all alone they just left the kid there! I had to do something!! Don’t yeh get it?” The turtle started on an angry rant before Leon held out a hand “Nobodies judging you” oh…..they weren’t judging him but weren’t people meant to judge you? Why weren’t either of these humans telling him he’s too impulsive or that they should have called them first before acting….weird? Raphael mentally shook it off “ah sorry man just pulling yer ponytail” Casey snorted at the remark while Leon just let out a deadpan “ha so funny!”

Raphael took a short breath before he continued “I just felt so bad for her I couldn’t leave her alone so I decided to take her….named her lita she’s the sweetest thing ever but she has these sad eyes like a kicked pup ya know?” Casey nodded “leonie says I often look like a kicked puppy!” Leon glanced over at Casey with a raised eyebrow “I don’t think I’ve ever said that!” Leon paused his bickering with Casey for a reason to ask a question that hit him “wait wait wait where is lita now? Because she’s definitely not here” Casey chimed in “unless she’s the invisible turtle!” Both Leon and Rapheal let out a small chuckle at Casey’s comment. “Ehh nah case I actually left her with mikey….”

Casey’s jaw went slack her face twisted into complete and utter confusion “what?” Is all the usually loud and brash vigilante muttered, Leon’s brow furrowed in disbelief “your talking to them again when did that happen” his voice was soft and sympathetic a motherly tone through and through. Raphael nodded “nah I’m just talking to Mikey again and it’s a long story alright” the red masked turtle snapped slightly he didn’t mean to snap he never did….he didn’t understand why he snapped at people he cared about last time that happened….nevermind. Casey shook her head blinking before she sighed deeply “well sit the hell down raph cause we gotta a lotta time to listen pal”

#if anyone wants me to explain the team thingy I will cause uhh I might have too uhhhhh #also hopefully I don’t take fucking decades to write more…. #hypnotic insanity #🪦 my writing 🪦 #my aus 🎥 #also ofc I had to include Caleon they are literally one of the only couples I have in here leave me alone #also also Casey is genderfluid so Casey will be referred to with different pronouns a fair bit! #shit one last thing everyone (besides lita) are adults! #the humans are all 23 to 25 and the turtles plus jennika are 19 to 20

[alizstories]

Chapter one: How it started

How it started:

Sir, what's your taste?

Cheap. Cheap. It's not for someone special. I'm just trying to get the pressure off of my shoulder.

What is the occasion, sir? A birthday?

No, it's more like an anniversary.

OK, I Recommend you… this one. 

How much is it?

Do you like it, sir?

It doesn't matter, I told you. I want it to be cheap.

Oh, I understand. 

So, How much?

One thousand five hundred dollars, but I can sell it as low as 1300 to you.

Impressive, but why am I getting 200 off the original price?

I want to get rid of this, you know. I paid 6000 for this 11 years ago, and no one ever liked it. Whoever saw this felt such a creepy sensation that it made them hesitant to purchase.

I can see.

Yeah, but I can sell it cheaply since you don't care about the look. Do you want it?

Oh, Yes, of course. I'm paying cash.

Great.

****

November, 1982. USA, Austin, Texas.

News reporter:

The neighbors reported a house fire at about 2:30 in the afternoon today. After that, the firefighters and the police arrived to see what happened. The house belonged to Mr and Ms. Stevenson, a hard-working salesman at Banshee Security Company.

As reported, Mr. Stevenson's wife, Jolly, and their two sons were at home during the incident. Unfortunately, all of them are reported dead. 

James showed up at his house when he heard the news, but he was silent and showed no signs of sadness. He pushed the police officers at the door away to get in, but they blocked his way.

He was down on his knees and was looking at the flames. In his mind, he saw all those memories and moments he had with his wife. The plans they had together for their children. The years of work he had done to build the house Jolly wanted. He was broken like a boy who saw his sand castle destroyed by the ocean's waves. 

His family was living in New York, and he had to stay with his wife's family: his father-in-law, Mr. Robert Brown, an old farmer who was a hero in WW2. Robert could feel the amount of pain James was in. At least he could see how depressed he was in his face. Ms. Brown ordered some food for dinner, which none of them touched. 

Robert sat next to James and told him: Son, you've done anything you could for your family; you should know it was all an accident. It would help if you didn't blame yourself.

James said: I don't know. Was it an accident?

What? What do you mean?

You wouldn't understand, Robert. I feel someone did this to us. This past few weeks, I saw a new face in our neighborhood. I never liked him. He was different. He was around our house so often that I had to tell him to fuck off once. Jolly thought I was paranoid. But it has something to do with him. I can swear he is related to this.  

The FBI agent showed up at Brown's house early in the morning.

They had a bad news, a terrible news.

The bodies that they found were indeed Ms. Stevenson and the children, But they were all killed and chopped out before the fire. Each body was cut into ten pieces before they were burned. The signs of a doll saw blade were on all the bones. They also found out that the killer didn't kill them before cutting them, based on the marks on the bones that proved struggles.

James fell to the ground and shouted: STOP, STOP, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, I'M BEGGING YOU, STOP.

You can say that James was a big man, but when he was on the ground, he was so small suddenly to the eyes that he was as small as a boy. Jolly always called him a baby, not as an insult but as an affirmation. He was always so calm and relaxed whenever he was in her arms. She used to tell him that he looked and sounded so different when he was with her and in public. She found it funny how he acted like a serious man in front of her family while he wasn't anything but a baby in her arms.

Two weeks ago, James saw him for the first time. James has a habit of walking before getting to bed. Before, Jolly would've joined him too. Still, after she gave birth to Tom, their first son, she didn't join him anymore. Still, he wasn't complaining because it was the only time he could smoke a cigarette and think about his plans. Jolly knew he smoked, of course, but she was more amicable than this to tell him anything. 

It was 11 pm, and James was walking to the local store to buy a pack of red Malbros. He saw him in the back of the store; far in the distance, there was a being. It wasn't a man nor an animal; it was a being. Smiling so wide open that James could see the last teeth in their mouth. It was standing tall and half naked, with long, messy hair and black pants that had some stains on them. Except for its head, it had no hair on its body. Its eyes were red, but without any light, they were so dark, and only in the light of the store's windows could James see how red and bloody its eyes were. James was a bit tipsy from the beers he drank after the dinner, so James thought he was just a homeless in the street, so he just nodded at the being and went to the store. James got his cigarettes and walked back into the lane. The being was not there, but he still could hear footsteps behind him while James was walking. He didn't turn his head around, and when he arrived at his home, he finally checked behind him and didn't see anyone following him.

It was his first encounter. However, it wasn't the last one.

After that, he kept seeing a new man in their neighborhood. He was just like the being; he was tall and had long hair, so James assumed he should be the same person. 

The new neighbor was Ramsy, an alone man living in a house his long-dead Aunt had left for him. The house was so old but still was good enough to live in. Ramsy was an artist, but he had several mental ills, such as autism. Therefore, he couldn't get to know anyone in the neighborhood, but his connection with kids was much better. He even came forward and talked with Tom several times, but James didn't like that at all. James yelled at him and told him to fuck off.

The FBI agents came over with a professional detective who had worked on such cases for decades, Detective Gregory Anderson.

He came forward and helped James to stand on his feet; he shook James's hands firmly and guided him to the chair. 

I am Greg, the Detective assigned to your family's case.

Gregory, a tall, middle-aged man with black eyes and gray hair, had a soothing voice and always spoke calmly. He must have liked James, as he introduced himself as Greg, even though he usually went by Mr. Anderson to his coworkers. 

I had been working on the case for several days now, and I was determined to find the answers your family deserved. I had a reputation for being thorough and relentless in pursuing justice. I intended to live up to that reputation in this case. I hope to bring peace and closure to your family during this difficult time.

James remained silent, still in shock and unable to speak. Robert was equally stunned, and Ms. Brown nearly fainted after crying for so long. The room fell into a heavy silence as they struggled to process the news. It was as if time had stopped, and the weight of the situation hung heavily in the air. After a few moments, Ms. Brown composed herself and took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. Robert reached out to James, offering a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

The house showed no signs of forced entry; the killer was able to enter without disturbing the peace of the neighborhood. The police were baffled by the lack of evidence and witnesses. They combed through the house for clues but found nothing. The killer seemed to have vanished into thin air. Their only lead was a faint scent of fear that lingered in the air. They set up surveillance in the neighborhood and interviewed everyone who lived nearby. The killer had left no trace, and the police were left with more questions than answers.

James discussed their new neighbor with Greg.

James said everything about him gave me a bad feeling. Since he came here, everything has changed. I couldn't quite grasp it, but something was unsettling about him. His smile seemed forced, his laughter too loud. And ever since he arrived, things have been off-kilter. People who were once friendly now seemed distant, and there was a tension in the air that I couldn't shake. I tried to brush it off as paranoia, but deep down, I knew something wasn't right. I didn't know what to do about it.

He also described the night that he met him for the first time; he told him how red his eyes looked and how he was half naked at that time of the night in the streets.

Neighbors shared strange anecdotes about Ramsy. One claimed to have witnessed Ramsy chasing after feral cats. At the same time, another reported seeing Ramsy carrying a bag filled with deceased mice. Ramsy was the sole focus of everyone's attention. Ramsy's peculiar behavior continued to puzzle the neighborhood. Some said they had seen him talking to himself in the middle of the night, while others swore they had caught glimpses of him performing strange rituals in his backyard. No one could quite put their finger on what exactly was going on with Ramsy, but one thing was sure - he was the talk of the town.

Finally, the moment had come. Greg was about to interview Ramsy, asking only questions he could answer. As Greg sat across from Ramsy, he could feel the tension in the room. Greg knew he had to tread carefully with his questions. Taking a deep breath, Greg began the interview, determined to uncover the truth behind Ramsy's mysterious persona.

Hello Mr. ...

Stone

I am Detective Gregory Anderson, and I believe you are Mr. Ramsy Stone. I assume you understand the reason for our discussion.

The Boys, I knew the boys. (A teardrop appeared on Ramsy's face.)

Greg was somewhat surprised.

How well do you know the boys, Mr. Stone? I heard you moved to Austin not too long ago. It was about two weeks before the Crime occurred.

We played basketball together on the court near the park.

Mr. Stone, I understand your circumstances and acknowledge that you have multiple mental illnesses, including autism. I believe this may impact your ability to form connections with others. Can you confirm if this is accurate?

Yes

How did you manage to become friends with kids who are at least 15 years younger than you?

I, I like children, sir. I feel safe around them.

Have you ever considered hurting them?

No, sir. I like children. I won't hurt them.

In your documents, there is evidence that you previously encountered an issue during your high school years.

They attacked me; I didn't want to hurt them (again, he started crying while shaking)

Why did you go so far as to break their legs with a steel pipe if you didn't want to hurt them?

They killed Mandy

Who's Mandy

My dog.

Mr. Stevenson told me you sometimes came around his house and talked to the kids. Do you recall this?

Of course, I went to see Tom and Jim to tell them when I go to play. However, after one time when Mr. Stevenson got mad at me, I didn't do that again.

Your neighbors have reported that they witnessed you chasing stray cats at night and carrying bags containing deceased animals. Can you confirm or deny these allegations?

I use deceased animals in my art.

Art? What kind of Art?

Paintings, sculptures, taxidermies, and photography.

So You do various forms of art. Can we visit your residence?

No, I wouldn't say I like that.

Very well, we will meet again after I obtain my warrant. You may leave now, Mr. Stone.

The odor emanating from his house was so awful that officers had to wear masks to enter. The stench was overpowering, and it was clear that something was seriously wrong inside. As they cautiously made their way through the rooms, the source of the smell became apparent - piles of rotting garbage and decaying food littered the floors. It was a scene of utter neglect and squalor, and the officers could hardly believe someone could live in such conditions. They were appalled by the gruesome items they found: a chair upholstered with rat fur, a mug fashioned from a raccoon skull, various stuffed animals in grotesque poses, and he had a belt made of cat paws. Some of the items had been there for a long time. Ramsy claimed that his Aunt had taught him how to make everything. There were pictures of animals in bizarre human-like scenarios on the walls—a mouse pedaling a bike, a rabbit clutching an umbrella. He invited them to sit on the couch, covered with a patchwork quilt of different animal skins. He offered them some tea, pouring from a teapot shaped like a turtle. He smiled innocently as if he didn't notice their discomfort and curiosity. He said his Aunt was very kind and creative, leaving him all her belongings when she passed away. He said he missed her very much and wanted to share her legacy with others. He asked them if they wanted to see more of her creations, and before they could answer, he led them to a door at the end of the hall. He opened it and revealed a dark room filled with more horrifying sights. There were jars of preserved organs and skeletons of hybrid creatures. He said this was his Aunt’s studio, where she worked with different animals and plants. 

Someone asked him if he had ever sold any of his “art” works; Ramsy replied that he did it for himself but that his Aunt had bought this place with the money she earned from selling her own “art.” He said that she was a famous artist in the underground scene and that her works were sought after by collectors who appreciated her unique style and vision. He told her loyal fan base admired her courage and creativity.

His house was filled with repulsive and strange things, but there was no trace of human presence. They could not confront him directly, but his living conditions and behavior aroused their suspicion.

Another thing that struck Greg was Ramsy's odd confidence in his house and his lack of any autistic traits, which made him doubt his diagnosis. He decided to verify it; he looked over the papers again and found the doctor’s name and address, who had confirmed his condition.

Dr. Li Shufen had diagnosed him with autism when he was 11 years old. Greg was lucky that she was still working in Austin, and he could visit her the next day. He explained the situation to her and asked for her help. Like everyone else who had heard the news recently, Dr. Li was shocked and moved by the incident, and she wanted to do her best to help the detective. However, there was a big problem: She had no records from that time. She said it was long ago and that she only kept documents briefly. She said she could not remember every patient she had ever had, but Ramsy’s records said he and Dr. Li had been in contact for two years. This was unbelievable because she was sure she had never met him. She said her memory was not the best, but she would remember if she had a patient for two years.

But why would Ramsy fake his autism? This puzzled Greg. He couldn't grasp Ramsy's reason for pretending to be autistic. It was an odd and pointless choice. He wanted to uncover the truth behind Ramsy's behavior.

Additionally, Ramsy initially declined to hire a lawyer. However, he spared no expense once he realized suspicion was directed towards him. He hired Maxim Perry, one of the most experienced lawyers in Austin. Greg suspected there was more to Ramsy's story than meets the eye. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Ramsy was hiding something. Perhaps Ramsy was involved in something illegal or had some ulterior motive for faking his autism.

Despite Ramsy's attempts to clear his name, Greg remained skeptical. He knew something was still missing and was determined to find out what it was.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but Greg refused to give up. He knew a story was here and was determined to get to the bottom. Finally, after months of investigation, Greg stumbled upon evidence that changed everything.

In the summer of 1971, Ramsy had a severe accident in the desert. His car was destroyed, and the other driver's vehicle burst into flames, causing the driver to be badly burned. Ramsy sustained only minor injuries and broke his left hand.

Greg was very interested in the accident. He had a feeling that something was not right. He decided to investigate further and started asking questions. He found out that Ramsy had been driving under the influence of alcohol and was responsible for the accident. However, Ramsy used his connections and wealth to cover up the truth and avoid any legal consequences. 

It was not right; not only did he not have any significant injuries, but he didn't face any legal problems. However, it was clear that he was drunk at the scene of the accident.

The lives of Brown's family and James were destroyed as the police and detectives worked on the case. James was no longer the man he once was, no longer lively. James became withdrawn and haunted by the unfolding events. His family struggled to understand the depth of his pain as he retreated into himself, consumed by guilt and grief. The weight of the tragedy hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their once-happy home. He rented a small apartment and spent most of his time there. Over time, he became dependent on a medication to help him sleep, which was first given to him by his doctor.

As his dependence grew, he found it more challenging to function without the medication. It became a crutch that he relied on every night. Despite the adverse effects on his health, he couldn't bring himself to stop taking it. His small apartment felt like a prison, and the medication was his only escape. He wanted to end his life, but he couldn't do it without the peace that he needed from justice.

 He resigned from his job and was now living off his savings, so he spent the whole day at home and began drinking in the morning. As the days went by, his drinking became a daily routine. 

His savings were ending, and he knew he needed to find a new job, but the thought of facing the outside world filled him with anxiety. So he continued to drink, numbing himself to the reality of his situation.

One night, he was highly intoxicated and went to Ramsy's door, knocking and yelling, "MURDERER, YOU ARE A MURDERER!" Ramsy didn't open the door and simply called the police to come and take him.

Greg requested Ramsey's presence at the station for questioning the following week. Ramsey responded, "Sir, you are misusing valuable time that should be devoted to finding the killer instead of focusing on someone unrelated to this case."Greg frowned, his eyes narrowing as he considered Ramsey's words. "I understand your concern, but we must cover all bases in this investigation. Your cooperation is crucial in helping us solve this case," he replied firmly.

This time, Ramsey showed up with his lawyer. 

I'm Maxim Perry, Mr Stone's lawyer.

I'm Detective Anderson; I'm glad you came for integration again.

Well, I have nothing to hide.

I doubt that Mr Stone.

Ramsy became a little offensive.

What do you mean by that? Is there anything I need to know?

Mr Stone, Why did you lie to everyone about your condition?

Ramsey, a little shocked, said:

What? This is so offensive, Mr Anderson. Why would I lie about a condition that I had with me since I was a little boy? Everyone in my Family is aware of that.

By family, you mean your long-dead Aunt. Since I could not find any other relative of yours, Mr stone.

I have friends who can tell you about my condition.

Mr Stone, In your documents, I see the name of the doctor who diagnosed you, Dr Li Shufen. Do you remember her? You were her patient for two years.

Ramsey said: Of course, I remember her; I met her two months ago.

Greg smiled and said: Are you sure about that?

Of course, I'm sure. What's the meaning of all this?

Mr Stone, I was at the office of Dr Li just recently.

Ramsey was frozen; he had not expected that.

Greg continued: She did not recognize you. Also, She needed documents proving your visits to her, especially if you visited her recently, because, as she said, she may have lost the old records. Still, it is more interesting now that you say you met her recently.

Ramsey was so angry; his face was red like the flames of the fire that burnt Stevenson's house. 

His lawyer, Mr Perry, advised him to leave. Ramsey said: Can he do that? This information is private. How can he go through my info like that? Also, there must be a mistake, a colossal mistake. That stupid Japanese bitch.

Greg said: She's Chinese.

Ramsey and his lawyer left in a rage.

Still, nothing was proven so the investigation had to be continued.

#stories #criminal minds #new author #first post

[robertwilde1]

The streets are no longer safe. Ladies, when you consider a handbag don't just buy for the looks. Consider instead: how hard can you hit with it when an attacker wants your bag. Hand Bag Self Defense Imagine. You are walking down a nice shopping street. Suddenly there is a flash mob robbing stores. No police anywhere to see. I guess we are in San Francisco or Portland, Oregon. One of the masked crazies runs at you and shouts: "Give me that bag, you ..." (censored: the word hidden is an itch for the decent and starts with a b ). &nbsp; &nbsp; Finally you can apply what you have learned in self-defense class: You take a swing and hit the attacker on the head with your bag his tooth fillings fly out sideways. And if you have purchased the special edition handbag, the one with retractable spikes and the bullet proof metal that attacker will have to take a long time to get up again - if he ever will. Just to be sure: it also works beautifully against female attackers and will do more damage than just disturbing their bad makeup and meth head hairdo. Fashion Photography without Dictators It's become a new fad to picture dictators with fashion like in the most recent Vogue shoot with the Ukrainian strong man Zelinski who ended the democracy in Ukraine in 2014 with a power grab. We are trying to be more ethical and make sure the right people get hurt. We want the robbers and attackers, the bullies and scumbags to be hurt. &nbsp; &nbsp; Self-defense by Weaponized Handbag Which is why we urge you to buy the right kind of bag. And what about us, say the men? Well, have you ever heard of a knuckleduster? Which, by the way, fits nicely in the best combat handbags we tested. Instead of a makeup compartment they feature a knuckleduster compartment, a pepper spray slot and, for the really lawless cities like San Francisco, Portland and New York, a gun holster. Just in case the hyped nutcases come by more than one. Fashion designer Desmond Destruct of the new combat handbag brand Crusher said he is working on a version that can release tear gas, pepper spray and some more serious gas should the war conditions in our cities further deteriorate to full blown civil war. Well, I guess that's what you have to do if certain types want to defund the police. You have to fund your own assortment of self-defense means. Find more inspiration for futuristic fashion ideas here: &nbsp;

[tessandscottforever18]

May 9

‘No Bullshit and Be Honest’: Camila Cabello Talks ‘Familia,’ Roe v. Wade, and Real Friends

Met Gala: slayed. New album: dropped. Mental health: under control. Camila Cabello’s 2022 has been filled with healing and highs as she continues to reel in the success of her third album, Familia. The Spanglish LP was a mix of reggaetón, mariachi, and pop perfection, and it served as a real, introspective look into the “Boys Don’t Cry” singer’s life and psyche — and damn, Cabello’s proud of it.

“Oh my god, I feel so good about it,” she tells Rolling Stone with a soft smile over Zoom. “Right now I’m really grateful that ‘Bam Bam’ has connected with people. I’m focusing on just celebrating that. I fucking love it so much.”

The no-skips LP features collaborations with Ed Sheeran, María Becerra, Willow, and Yotuel, among others. It also touted some of her most personal lyrics, as she sang on “Psychofreak,” “Sometimes I don’t trust the way I feel/On my Instagram talkin’ ’bout, ‘I’m healed,’/Worryin’ if I still got sex appeal/Hopin’ that I don’t drive off this hill.”

Like with the album, a trip to Cabello’s social media pages sees her sharing similar candidness. She often shares reminders about mental health (“It’s life-saving to talk about it,” she says) and uplifts the voices of activists standing up for immigrant, LGBTQ rights, and reproductive rights (“It’s tragic [that] the people affected are not having a say,” she recently told Variety.) In other words, Cabello keeps it real.

Weeks after dropping her third album, and ahead of her Pepsi opening ceremony performance at the 2022 UEFA Champions League Final later this month, the singer spoke to Rolling Stone via Zoom about her lyrical vulnerability, the importance of “Real Friends,” and why she’s so vocal about her mental health:

I don’t know what you put in “Hasta Los Dientes,” but that song hits.
[Laughs] Oh my god. I just saw the last cut of the music video yesterday. It’s kind of like space vibes; like a performance on a spaceship.

What’s your current favorite song on Familia?
“No Doubt.” I performed it recently. You’ll see soon. But I was like, “This is hitting.” Just something about that reggaetón beat and the melodies. It was just a sexy performance. I fuck with this song.

I’ve gotten so many compliments. As I walk around New York, and I’ll be like, at the park and somebody will be like, “I really, really enjoyed your album.” And they’ll say it so sincerely that it just resonates. I’m just so grateful that the people that have connected with it deeply and truly, and that feels really special. I saw some fans be like, “I feel like I know her more now.” That’s what it’s about. I fucking love that.

You were saying that people said they got to know you a little better. There’s this deep vulnerability that really stood out on the LP. Was that cathartic for you?
It was honestly life-changing for me. And I feel so grateful to be able to say that about an album. It’s not something that I was just like, “Yeah, like, it was cool. And yeah, and here it is.” The whole journey of it for me was like being able to be in a room where I feel like I just tapped into really being vulnerable and really being honest. And talking about things that I have gone through that I never spoke about before was really healing for me. It just made me so much more open and vulnerable in my friendships, and then in my performances, and then in my interviews. It had this domino effect on every other area of my life.

On this album, you have your core set of collaborators and even shout out [Shawn Mendes songwriter] Scotty [Harris] in one of the songs. How do you choose your collaborators? And why is it so important to have the right people surrounding you?
I feel like choosing collaborators is just as important as choosing your friends or romantic partner. It’s got to be somebody I feel safe with, somebody that I trust, that I know that I could talk about anything, and I could talk about the most fucked up thoughts that I have. And they’ll be like, “Oh, interesting. That’s cool. We should explore that more.” It’s the same qualities I look for in every relationship. It’s just good people that I feel like I can be myself with because that affects the music. I’ve been in rooms before where I didn’t feel like I could be totally myself. I felt like I had to put on a show and that changes the music because the music suddenly sounds like that. It’s like you’re choking yourself off.

You talked to Variety about confidence and learning to say no. What has led you to be able to gain that sort of confidence in yourself?
I have a lot of teachers in my life and I was thinking about my friend Alok V Menon. They’re a non-binary poet and artist. They will always remind me when I have insecurities, or when I’m people-pleasing, or when I’m not being honest with somebody because I don’t want to hurt their feelings. They’ll literally be like, “You got to stop people-pleasing and start pleasing yourself.” And I think the teachers around me in my life — and sometimes they come in the form of a therapist, or a book, or a friend — really inspire me. When we hang out, it almost feels like it gets the unsaid rule of just like, “No bullshit, and be honest.” And I feel like that comes with saying no, too. If I don’t want to do something, don’t lie; just be like, “I’m sorry, that’s not for me right now.” I feel like that leaves you with the people in your life that really love you for you and know you for you.

The friends that I have in my life now will be like, “Girl, honestly, I’m so proud of you for taking care of you. Like yes, listen to that voice. Get that introvert time. Take care of you. Keep doing it.” There are people that get it and will encourage that.

I love that. You’ve been so open about mental health and I think as a Latino, that’s something that is always like, “Don’t talk about that shit.” Why has being vocal been so crucial for you?
There are different degrees to which people struggle with mental health, but I think, whether it’s life-changing or life-saving, when you bottle that shit up, and you pretend, it eats away at your health. It eats away at your energy. It is so detrimental and I fully believe that trauma and mental health is physical health. It’s a public health crisis [and] people not talking about it. It leads to so much sickness in the world, so much violence in the world, so much mental illness in the world.

Having these conversations — especially in the Latin community — I feel like I want to talk about it more in Spanish and with that community too. Even talking about it with my family, it’s so different. There’s such a stigma, and you’re perceived as weak or not strong, or just like, “Fucking snap out of it.” Especially in certain cultures, that’s the messaging and it kills people. It’s so necessary for us to be able to talk about the human experience, which is hard sometimes.

“I fully believe that trauma and mental health is physical health.”

You’ve been outspoken about the recent news surrounding abortion rights and Roe v. Wade. What made you want to speak up?
I’m honestly just furious. Like a lot of women are. Hearing women’s stories, hearing friends’ stories, and knowing me and my body as a woman. There’s this quote that “forced pregnancy is literally a form of torture,” no matter what the circumstances are. Whether it was sexual assault or whether you’re just not ready emotionally, financially, or physically. It’s crazy that something like a mistake will literally change a woman’s life forever, especially women who financially don’t have the resources. Because it’s so true that rich women are still gonna continue to have abortions. It’s just going to affect women that can’t [afford them].

You’re heading to Paris for the Champions League Final. Your dad’s Mexican. Are you a big soccer girl?
Probably like once a year! I watch the World Cup because it’s all the Latin American countries. Of all the sports, soccer is the one that I understand because I don’t understand any of the other ones, but I understand soccer. And it’s the one I get the most hype to see. I’ve actually always wanted to go to a soccer game. This is a great way to do it. And also, you know, I’m coming for the boys too, honey. I love a soccer boy!

Could you tease your performance?
I’m definitely gonna be singing, there’s gonna be some Familia in there. There’s gonna be some “Bam Bam” in there and obviously representing the Latinos, always. It’s giving production, so I’m excited.

#camila cabello #rolling stone #interview: rolling stone #cc3 #familia #UEFA champions league #Final Opening Ceremony #protect our kids fund

[applecherry108]

Me for the last like 5 years: I love chat noir haha catboy go prr :)

Me now, having caught up w 3 seasons and 2 movies: I will lay down my life for this cinnamon roll I love him so much. Adrien deserves the world. Catboy pls never stop go prr 🥺 💗

#right before I watched the Shanghai special I glanced a yt video titled ‘love square has already been reveresed’ and I just rolled my eyes #and then I watched the Shanghai special. 🥺 #I need to lay down for a minute I’m so in love #I was right to include catboy in my ‘argument for bisexuality’ meme all those years ago #and I know I joke a lot about how it was the ‘French is easy’ tiktoks that pushed me back into ml but really #a lot of it has been working on an all boy version on an abc character meme #and y’all get one guess who’s sittin purrretty under C 💗 #also I just want to shout out to the New York special that said the most American America we can conceive #is lead by a black woman with a female Superman #and a Batman that could be read as a trans woman #who is also in lesbians with superwoman #and their daughters are an indigenous and a black girl #what a ride. A+. 11/10. the future liberals want. #apple talks #to the tune of spam

[togrowoldinv]

Omg I see your accepting Kate requests!! Could I possibly request one where reader and Kate are in college and reader has a crush on Kate but promised herself to never tell her but Kate eventually figures it out and it goes from there?

Hey! Thanks for this request! 💙 I hope it's cool that I tweaked the plot a little bit. Special thanks to @idkwhygregg for brainstorming this one with me!

Sun and Moon

Kate Bishop x Female Reader

Warnings: A curse word or two, tiny bit of spice towards the end

Kate Bishop Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Being in love with Kate is the easiest thing in the world. She is completely enamoring. From her mind to her heart, you have fallen for every part of her. To you, she’s the sun and the flowers it shines on and the moon with the tides it controls. There is only one problem: Kate does not know you feel this way.

You met Kate in your first year of college. It was a warm late summer day when you walked to your first ever college class and you sat down next to an approachable looking girl. You were extremely nervous, but the soft smile she gave you as she handed you the sign in sheet eased your nerves immediately.

It was two weeks later before the two of you actually spoke, but it was a match made in heaven as you two call it now. Kate quickly became the reason you didn’t mind getting up early for class or doing assignments late at night. She was by your side all the time and slowly you felt yourself feeling more and more drawn to her.

That was almost four years ago. Since then, you have moved into an apartment and are living your last few months of college to the fullest.

“Hey y/n, got a second?” Kate breaks you from your thoughts as she knocks on your open bedroom door.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you ask her as she sits down at the end of your bed.

“I got an offer to go overseas for an archery team, but I also got an offer to stay here in New York. I guess I just want your opinion on it. You know me so well and I don’t know I just want to know your thoughts on it,” Kate explains, not taking a breath between her words.

“First of all, that’s amazing, Kate. I’m so proud of you! Do you have any gut feelings about it? Usually, you have great intuition about things. You just have to trust it. We can make a pros and cons list if you want?”

That makes her laugh and you feel successful at bringing her some relief in the clearly stressful situation she is in.

“No lists, please. My gut is telling me maybe I should go. Maybe tonight after the party I will make more of a decision. You’re going, right?” Kate asks you hopefully.

“Um,” you contemplate the amount of schoolwork you have, but when you see the anticipation in her eyes you can’t help but agree. “Yeah, I’m going.”

“Yes!” Kate says excitedly and you two talk about what to wear and all things fun for the next few hours.

You end up at the party and are having a decent time, but your mind keeps going back to the fact Kate might leave the city. You’ve been avoiding her since you got to the party. You just can’t handle seeing her when things are about to change.

Kate catches your eye from across the room she marches over towards you. You look around for an escape but see none as the dark-haired girl fills your vision. She notices your hesitation to speak to her.

“Y/n, hey. Why have you been avoiding me all night?” Kate asks you.

“I’m not. I think I’m going to head home,” you brush past her, but she grabs your arm.

“Why are you being like this?” Kate asks, her tone is angry and almost pouty. “Don’t leave.”

“You’re the one who’s leaving!”

“I- that’s- you told me I should leave!” Kate shouts back at you.

“I only said that because I’m so fucking in love with you, and I want you to be happy!” you are so upset you can’t even filter yourself. “I didn’t think you’d actually choose to leave,” you say the last sentence quietly, feeling overwhelmed by emotion. You go to leave again, and Kate runs after you. She stops you once you are outside.

“Wait a minute, y/n. It’s true that you’re in love with me?”

“Kate, don’t patronize me.”

“I- I’m not. I heard a rumor, but I thought it was just that,” Kate says, and you lean back against a brick wall with a sigh. “But you really?” you nod in confirmation. “Say it again.”

“What? Kate, I don’t-”

She cuts you off with her lips. You let out a soft grunt as she pushes you further into the wall with her tall frame. She kisses your neck and your jaw before landing back on your lips. Kate pulls away to breathe and looks into your eyes intensely.

“Y/n, I’m in love with you too. I really want to take this offer though,” Kate says, and you look down at your feet. She lifts your chin to make you look at her again. “Would you consider coming with me? You could work, or go to graduate school, or just take some time to be young in Europe with me. What do you say?”

“I say… yes, Kate. Yes. Nothing in the world sounds better than being young in Europe with you,” you reply, and she smiles her beautiful smile, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“It’s a plan, but for tonight let’s just be young in New York?” Kate asks. She sticks out her pinky finger for you to wrap yours around and you laugh. “Come on, y/n. Pinky promises cross the boundary of friends and lovers.”

You wrap your pinky around hers and she pulls you in for a hug. Tonight, you will definitely be young in New York with your sun and moon. With your Kate.

Tag list: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @nataliaromanova-widow @likefirenrain @be-missed @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @laaurrel @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @picnicmic @exhaustedfangirl @wandaslittlewhore @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @kacka84

Let me know if you want to be added to my Kate tag list😁

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop angst #kate bishop #kate bishop friends to lovers

[the-iceni-bitch]

No Scrubs

Well a scrub checkin' me, but his game is kinda weak

And I know that he cannot approach me

'Cause I'm looking like class and he's looking like trash

Can't get wit' a deadbeat ass

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: You try to keep Steve from dying of boredom at an Avengers charity gala.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, public sex), little bit of a fight, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @cockslut-padalecki’s “Not My Ninth” challenge!! My prompt was No Scrubs by TLC and Charity Gala. I picked our boy Steve for this one, but like post Avengers pre Winter Soldier Steve. Also, is Thor the best wingman? I feel like I’ve been using him in this role a lot. Happy 9K babe!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Steve had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

He hated talking about himself normally, and having to parade around in front of a bunch of rich people was a special kind of torture. But Tony was insistent that the whole team had to be there, and it was for a good cause so he couldn’t say no without being a complete asshole.

He downed the rest of his champagne as some other billionaire asked him the same damn question about how different things were for him now, how much he must miss the 40s, like the war was some golden age of Americana. He just smiled and gave the same polite answers he’d been giving all night, wishing he was able to get drunk. Maybe Thor had snuck in some mead, that could usually do the trick.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark sent me to come find you. Something about the silent auction.”

Steve felt his face relax as he turned to look at you, his breath coming out in a deep sigh. You looked amazing in your silver gown, all shimmery and gauzy.

“Sorry folks, duty calls.” He said with a shrug as he followed you away from the stuffed suits. “What does Tony want? I don’t have anything to do with the auction.”

“Yeah, I know, but your jaw was clenched so hard I was worried you were gonna snap something, so I figured I’d come rescue you.” You said, grinning over your shoulder at him.

“God, you’re the best.” He sighed, following you to the bar and leaning against it as you ordered yourself a cocktail.

“I know, right? You want anything?”

“Not unless Thor snuck anything in. It’s only been an hour and I’m this close to ramming my head through a wall.”

“Sorry Cap, I hate these things too but it comes with the territory.” You said with a shrug, sipping on your Manhattan as you turned to face him. “Now, lets go find our Asgardian friend. As your handler, I can’t have you destroying property out of boredom, and I’m pretty sure I saw that giant sipping from a contraband flask a little earlier.”

He grinned as he moved to follow you, weaving through the crowd as you expertly turned away the whales that kept trying to approach him. You were his fifth handler since the battle of New York, and the only one that had lasted longer than a week. Mostly because you didn’t actually try to handle him, just let him be Steve and deal with any PR fallout that came with that. It helped that you had an easygoing nature that he found endearing, and you could always make him laugh. The fight you’d gotten into with Tony about changing his suit had really done it for him though, he hadn’t seen anyone make Stark back down so fast.

“Odinson!” You shouted, beaming once you found the massive blonde. He’d been cornered by a group of old blue hairs who were tittering and trying to touch his biceps. “Sorry ladies, the god of thunder is needed elsewhere, auction business.”

They all made sounds of disappointment as you extracted the relieved looking god from the group of old biddies, pulling him away towards one of the empty corners of the ballroom.

“What is this auction you speak of?” Thor asked once the three of you were separated from the crowd.

“A clever ruse, my good friend.” You said with a smirk. “You’re welcome by the way. The Captain here is on the verge of committing violent acts out of boredom, and expressed a desire to get drunk.”

“Yes, thank you Y/N.” He said with a grin. “I don’t think I can help the Captain with his problem though, maybe he should head to the bar.”

“Oh, you can’t help?” You said cocking your eyebrow at him before shoving your hand inside his tux jacket and pulling out a silver flask. “What’s this then?”

Steve chuckled as Thor tried to stammer out a reply as you just shook your head and tutted at him, handing Steve the flask.

“Listen, just be a good boy and share. Now, I need to go to the ladies room but if any of these rich assholes tries to come bother you again, just start talking about the horrors of war, and get graphic. They hate that shit.”

Steve handed Thor back the flask after taking a sip, already staring to feel a bit of a tingle in his fingers.

“That woman is not to be trifled with.” Thor said appreciatively as he took a swig, handing it back to Steve. “Have you slept with her yet?”

Steve choked on the mead, his eyes bugging out of his head as he tried to cough up a lung and Thor clapped him on the back, scolding him for wasting good liquor.

“Jesus, Thor! What are you talking about? I don’t want to sleep with Y/N!”

“Oh my god, you midgardians and your hang ups. Your hormones spike every time your around her, it’s very distracting.”

“What?!?! How do you know that?” Steve loosened his tie a bit as he felt himself starting to warm up, telling himself it was just from the booze.

“I’m not just the god of thunder, I’m a fertility god.” He said with a grin. “And every time you two are near each other, it’s like being around a couple of rabbits in the spring.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Steve said as he ran his hand over his face in embarrassment.

“No you stop. We’re in a hotel, just get a room and , what’s the phrase I’m looking for ‘fuck her brains out’.”

“Jesus Christ, who taught you that? Never mind, I know it was Tony.” He said, waving a dismissive hand at Thor as he gave him a wicked grin.

“Oh no.” Thor said suddenly, looking over Steve’s shoulder towards the ballroom.

“What now?” Steve said with a heavy sigh, turning to follow his line of sight to where you were standing, talking to an unsteady looking man in a sloppy tux. “Rumlow.”

“Yes, apparently your STRIKE team leader has been sniffing after your handler for months.” Thor narrated, leaning against one of the columns and taking another pull from the flask. “She’s always rebuffed him, though. I don’t think he’s ever tried when he’s drunk before. Wait, Rogers!”

Steve ignored him as he strode towards you, growling under his breath and loosening his tie even more as he watched Rumlow wrap his hand around your bicep and yank you towards him. Steve was close enough to see you roll your eyes, but couldn’t hear what you said to the man as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and smashed his mouth against yours.

“Hey!” Steve shouted, his brow furrowed as Brock pulled his face away from yours to see what the interruption was about.

You took your chance and head butted him, a curse leaving his mouth in a hiss as he released you. You gripped his left wrist around his thumb and drew it back hard, smirking when you felt a snap at the same time you drove you fist into his ribs.

Steve had to pull you off him as you started beating him with your clutch, opening it up at the same time to search for your brass knuckles.

“You don’t fucking touch me, you goddamn sloppy deadbeat motherfucker!” You screamed as Steve carried you away from the main floor, your limbs flailing as you tried to charge back at Rumlow. “Learn to tie a fucking tie you cocksucking son of a bitch.”

Steve did his best not to crack up at the shocked looks the blue bloods were giving you, a chorus of offended gasps following the two of you as you released a steady stream of profanity. He pushed open the doors to the balcony with one hand as he kept his other hand wrapped tightly around your waist as you were still trying to squirm free.

“Damn it, put me down Rogers! I’ll kick your ass too!” You hissed, turning to swat at his chest.

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ!” He said as you started to kick him, catching him in the shins a couple of times. “Ow.”

“You’re fine.” You said with a shrug, taking a couple deep breaths to calm down.

“Yeah, well Rumlow definitely isn’t. Who gave you brass knuckles?” He said, pulling the weapon out of your clutch.

“Nat did. And it’s not like I even got to use them on that asshole.”

“Yeah but you would’ve.” He said, shaking his head as he handed them back to you. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You just snorted as you shoved the knuckles back into your clutch, leaning your back against the railing.

“Good.” He mumbled, suddenly not knowing what to say to you.

You somehow looked even better after your altercation. Your hair was a wild tangle now, loose strands blowing in the breeze. Your lips were swollen from the unwanted kiss, and Steve could feel the heat coming off you as your chest heaved with deep breaths. He hissed through his teeth when he noticed the torn skin on your knuckles.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re bleeding.” He growled, grabbing your hand to inspect the damage.

“Huh, guess so.” You said, watching him through your lashes as he brought your hand closer to his face.

You felt your breath hitch as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand softly, his brow still furrowed with worry. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the fight, but all you could think about just then was sucking on his thick fingers.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You must have zoned out for a second.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m great.” You said, your voice a little squeakier than you would’ve liked.

He took a step closer to you and you gasped, suddenly feeling very light headed as you felt a rush of slick flood your panties. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip where you had it pressed between your teeth.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you now.” He muttered, his eyes boring into yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Good.” You whispered.

His mouth devoured yours, his teeth pulling your lips open so he could slip his tongue inside, curling it against yours as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed you against him. You moaned as you felt his cock hardening against your abdomen, your pussy throbbing with need as he ground himself into you.

He started to sink to his knees and you followed him, your mouth still pressed to his desperately. His hand moved from your waist to dig under your skirt and he let out a growl when he brushed his fingers against your core, pressing them against the soaked silk of your panties.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” He grumbled, his lips still pressed to yours. “Wanna see if you taste as good as you smell.”

“Oh god, Steve.” You moaned as he hooked his fingers through the side of your panties and ripped them off you, the elastic snapping against your skin and a shove going up your spine as the night air cooled the wetness between your thighs. “Do it.”

He grinned and gave you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move his mouth down your throat. His hand between your legs started rubbing you in big slow circles as he laid you down, putting just enough pressure on you that you were quickly turning into a wriggling mess.

“Hold still, honey.” He ordered, pulling the sleeves of your dress down just enough that your breasts could pop out, your nipples pebbling in the chilly air. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

“Fuck.” You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your nipple in a heavy stripe before flicking it softly. Your hands dug in his hair as he sucked and licked at it, just barely brushing it with his teeth until it was raised to an overly sensitive peak before he moved to the other nipple and repeated the process, making you whine.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he pressed a soft kiss to each breast before moving his face between your legs. His hand was making soft wet sounds now as he kept rubbing your sex, and he groaned when he removed it to take a good look at you.

“Fuck if that ain’t the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He murmured as his lips brushed over your inner thigh.

Your cunt was pulsing with need under his gaze, your plump folds swollen and flushed with heat as he watched you clench around nothing. Everything between your legs was coated in a thick layer of your arousal, and he bit his lip as he watched even more leak out of you.

“I bet I could make you cum with almost nothing, sweetheart.” He teased as he nipped at the soft skin of your inner thighs, inching closer to your pussy before moving away again.

“Steve, please!” You whined, trying to arch your back into his face as you tugged on his hair.

He just grinned before pressing his tongue over your pussy and swirling it through your folds. He had to press his palms down on your hips to keep your body from curling back on itself as he ran his tongue over your sex, lapping at your pussy like his was the first meal he’d had in weeks.

“God you taste so good.” He murmured as he gazed at you through his lashes. “Like fucking peaches.”

You sobbed as he thrust his tongue inside you at the same time his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, making you come immediately. He curled his tongue inside you as your release flowed into his mouth, moaning into your pussy as you spasmed against his face.

Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as you came down, your muscles still twitching randomly as aftershocks shook through your abdomen. He grinned as he sat up over you, undoing his tie before moving to take off his belt as you writhed underneath his gaze. Your brain finally reset and you sat up between Steve’s legs, nuzzling yourself into his neck as you worked to unbutton his shirt.

“You back, honey?” He chuckled as you ran your teeth over his collarbone, dipping your hands under his shirt to press against his chest. “I was a little worried.”

“You’ll find I’m extremely resilient, Steve.” You murmured before sinking your teeth into his pec as you started to undo his fly.

“Shit, good to know.” He groaned as you drew his cock out of his pants and gave it a squeeze.

He gripped your chin and drew your face up to his, raising you up to your knees as he gave you a soft kiss. You moved his cock in your hand to line him up with your entrance, teasing his tip against your folds. Steve wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you a bit higher before slowly drawing you down onto his length.

You let out a thin keen as he stretched you open, relishing the sting as your cunt fluttered around him, adjusting to his girth. He rested his forehead against yours as he started moving his hips at a languorous pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He muttered against your lips before moving to bury his face in your shoulder. “So tight and warm and soft.”

You gripped the hair at the base of his neck tightly as his hips started moving faster, slapping against yours. You felt yourself clench around him as he ground against your clit, making you gasp.

“Shit, Steve! Right there!”

“Jesus, already?” He murmured, running his lips over your throat.

“Just... fuck, you’re so big, Steve. Oh my god, I’m cumming.”

He hooked a hand under your ass to keep you from collapsing as your entire body arched violently, almost bending backwards on itself as you swallowed a scream. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him as he lifted you to wrap around him, his breath hot against your neck.

“Holy shit honey.” He muttered as he pulled you down against him, making you whimper. “You ok?”

“I’m great. Don’t you fucking stop.” You said, tilting his head back so you could press your mouth to his.

He grinned against your lips as he fucked his hips up into you, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his cock dragged over every inch of you, nudging against your cervix and making your breath hitch.

“Right there?” He asked as you dug your nails into his scalp and bit at his lips.

“Fuck, oh goddamn it, Steve.”

You shrieked into his mouth as you came apart, your muscles seizing as your pussy strangled his cock. His hips stuttered and you were suddenly flooded with warmth, his spend sitting into you and coating your canal in thick white ropes. He sat back on his heels and pulled out of you, and you shuddered as your release squirted all over the front of his pants.

“Shit, did you just squirt honey?” He asked, giving you an appreciative glance as he started to tuck himself back in and button his shirt up.

“I think so. Fuck, that’s never happened before.” You said with a shrug.

“Well, damn baby.” He said as he stood up, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

“Shit, we’ve gotta go back in there.” You said, running your hand over your face. “Oh my god, Stark is going to kill us. Hold on and give me a second to think.”

Steve just leaned back on the railing and gave a satisfied smile as he watched you pace back and forth, wringing your hands.

“Ok I think I’ve got it, just one second.”

You went to the door and opened it a crack, popping your head through, jumping when you found Thor leaning against the wall right there.

“Hey, Thor. What’s up buddy?”

“Just keeping the other guests from wandering out and seeing you and the Captain humping like rabbits.”

“Appreciate it. We need a distraction though, cuz we’re both a little messy, and I don’t really feel like explaining that to everyone.”

“Got it, what if I blow out the lights in that chandelier?”

“I think that’ll probably work.” You said, giving him a nod before turning back to Steve. “Alright Rogers, we’re making a run for the elevator. Thor, blow it.”

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