#i have to get my ass to lab no matter how comfy these blankets are

[catboybiologist]

I like my enbies like I like my kombucha- tart, biting back, and confusing to old people who see them in public

#if ur gonder isnt adequately covered in one of these i apologize #this is the last one i swear #i have to get my ass to lab no matter how comfy these blankets are #truly the war of our times #196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196

[non-stop-imagines]

Iron Man and the Intern (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fury!Reader

Request: ❤️❤️❤️ Hewwo May I please request intern!reader starting to work with the Avengers and Tony becoming interested in them romantically (If you wanna make this smutty I ain’t stopping you😘😏😉)

Word Count: 2181

Warnings:

A/N: Here is part 1 of 2 of this request that I received from @bamphitrite. She has been so sweet to me me and I'm glad that she asked me to write this. Once I got started with it I couldn't stop hence the reason why there are two parts. I just hope that it was everything you hope for and I just want to thank you for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy!💛💖💛💖

Requests are OPEN, if you want to be added to the tags list for a certain character, just ask. Masterlist

UNIVESAL TAGS LIST: @avc212 @meeeeeeeeeps @beautifulwisdom2001 @iamzion-therealhabesha @cheychey10142 @jetaimeamore @thottio

_____

"Yes, I'm positive I have everything I need, Uncle Nick." You respond to your uncle as you enter the elevator and press the button for the 5th floor. You turn around to the mirror behind you and fix your braids, defining the part by flipping braids to their corresponding sides and fixing the gold braid cuffs latched around a select few.

"Steve should be there to greet you. If anything goes wrong, just tell me and I'll beat any of their narrow-." Nick began to fuss over the phone but you stop him with a chuckle.

"Alright, that's enough. I'm at the floor. Everything will be fine. I'll call you after my first day. Thank you again, by the way." You smile into the phone and step out the elevator then turn right towards what seems to be an opening.

"No problem, ladybug. I know you'll do me proud. Love you." You can hear the sentiment of his words through the phone, making you smile one last time as you respond.

"Love you, too." You hang up your phone and place it in your purse as you continue down the hall into a lounge area that also contained a small dining table. You look around for some sign of life that was supposed to greet you, jumping and turning around when you hear a firm voice behind you.

"Sorry, if we startled you. You must be Ms. Fury." The blonde man smiles and sticks his hand out and you promptly shake it, then shift your gaze to the redhead that was standing to his left and holding out her hand, which you also shake. You step back and nod, giving them both polite smiles.

"Yes, but you can call me Y/N. You must be Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff. Nice to meet both of you. " You adjust your purse on your shoulder and clasp your hands in front of you.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N." Agent Romanoff grins at you. This action seems to be to most joy she could muster up at the moment. "I guess we should show you around." She chuckles then leads you to where you assume they came into the room from.

"And we'll debrief you on your duties as we walk. Welcome to the team." Captain Rogers pats you on the should and also gives you a warm grin.

As you walked up and down halls and take a number of elevator rides, Steve and Natasha, as they have ask you to call them, explained what you will do as an intern as well as where certain rooms are and explaining to me members that I will regularly be seeing. At this point you guys were in the elevator headed to the lower level which was where the lab was located for none other that Tony Stark. Growing up, your uncle decided that it would be best for you to not know what was going on at his job, but when he began dealing with Tony he couldn't help but vent about this reckless Avengers recruit. Once the elevator comes to a halt, you follow Steve and Nat out the elevator and down the flight of steps to what you can only assume to be the lab. The entrance had a window and a glass door, allowing you to see Tony pointing at machines that then promptly perform tasks. As you watch him work, Steve types in a code that open the door, letting you and Nat enter first then closely following suit. He coughs subtly to get Tony’s attention.

“Ah, Star Spangled Spandex. Who do we have here?” Tony meets eyes with you and gives you a snide grin. His eyes seem to roam down your body for a moment before making eye contact again.

“This is Y/N. She’s the new intern.” Steve rolls his eyes then places his hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit.

“Fury has good taste.” Tony now blatantly leans back slightly and looking you up and down again, bring in his bottom lip slightly while smiling. Typically this behavior would have ticked you off, and sure there was a part of you right now that wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face, but the main part of you enjoyed the fact that this genius billionaire fuckboy that your Uncle despises was attracted to you. “I remember when he brought me you, Natalie…” He stands up straight again and tilts his head toward Natasha. You look between the two as you question for a moment whether Nat’s name is Natasha or Natalie.

"Don't worry, he's not always an ass. Sometimes he's asleep.” Steve comments, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

“Tony, Y/N is Fury’s niece.” Nat says with an even more smug grin. Tony looks back at you, shock in his eyes as a large sinister smirk grew on his face.

"Hmm… Well, welcome to the team. I'm sure you'll enjoy every moment." He sticks out his hand which you lightly grab and shake. The firmness of your grasp would typically be unacceptable, but somehow it seemed fitting. You give Tony a small smile, observing his peppered facial hair and kind eyes. Your breath hitches for a moment and your heartbeat speeds up when he flashes a larger smile at you.

“Well, we have a bit more to see so we should get going.” Steve says then turns to leave, Nat following his motions. You begin to follow but stop and turn your head back to Tony.

“It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.” You give him a sweet grin. If you were able to read his mind you would’ve known the shock that he felt when he heard you speak for what he realized to be the first time. The way your voice moved to his ears and how its naturally sultry sound did something to him that he wasn’t used to.

“It was nice to meet you, too. And please, call me Tony.” He responds, crossing his arms by placing one arm over the other across his body instead of through each other.

“Alright, Tony.” You nod and follow behind Nat.

_____

It’s been a week since you started your internship and already the work was piling up. Along with the occasional coffee and lunch runs, your main work has been to look over mission briefings and taking and analyzing data from meetings, so you’ve already gotten accustomed to staying late at the compound. So much so that you have a couple of comfy shirts and pants tucked away in Nat’s dresser. So there you were, cuddled up on the couch in the open living room/kitchen area underneath the fluffy blanket that you secretly kept in Steve’s room, thumbing through pages of data three hours past the time you were supposed to go home for the second time this week. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't hear someone enter the kitchen and open the fridge, but you did jump when you heard the fridge close. You turn to your left to see Tony smirking at you with a large pizza box on the counter.

"Working late again?" He opens the box and takes out a slice. "Pizza?" He lift his slice towards you.

"Yes and… sure." You close the file that you had and put it on the coffee table, then move a braid that didn't make it in your quick bun behind your ear. You stand, still wrapped in your blanket, and head to the kitchen.

"You know, there is such thing as working too hard. And I think your five steps past that. " Tony says as you grab a plate. He places a slice on it then turns to the microwave to take his piece out, turning back to you to grab your plate and place it in the microwave.

"I know, I know. But it just feels natural, like I'm supposed to do all of this." The microwave beeps and you take out your piece, closing the door with your head. You walk over to the fridge and grab the ranch, pouring some on your plate then putting it back. “With my uncle as the executive head of S.H.I.E.L.D, it feels like everyone expects me to be great and it gets to me. That’s how I’ve been my entire life, trying to hard to live up to the expectations that people set for me, sometimes burning myself out…” You shake your head and dip your pizza in ranch then take a bite.

“Then why are you doing all of this?” Tony motions around you then around the couch. He picks up his pizza and takes a bite, lifting an eyebrow in anticipation for your answer.

“I’m working my way up. I want to make my uncle proud. Trust me, Imma be runnin this place in no time.” You smirk and do an exaggerated head flip, making Tony laugh and soon after you join him.

“Well I guess I better stay in your good graces if your gonna be my boss one day.” Tony leans on the counter and grins at you. As you look into his eyes you realize that they’re the reason you didn’t smack him into last week down in his lab. No matter how he acted, his eyes gave his real emotions away everytime. The way he looked at you was filled with such admiration, such wonder for how someone as wonderful as you could stroll into his life. He may act like an ass but you could tell through the way he looked at you that he would do anything for you.

“Don’t worry, I don't think you’ll ever fall from my good graces.” You copy his position and lean against the counter, letting a small smile grow on your face.

“And why is that?” He asks, taking a step toward you and stooping his head slightly to compensate for the two inches he has on you.

“Because I like you, Tony. You’re a likeable man. It’s hard not to like you.” You shrug and smile at him. He takes another step toward you and your chest raises as an involuntary response to his movements.

“Hmmm… I don’t think your uncle would agree.” Tony wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush against him.

“I don’t think I care.” As you finish your remark, Tony brings his face towards your and you bring your face towards his in response.You raise your hands to his chest as your lips finally connect with his and begin to move in time. It started off with just your lips fighting for dominance but once the time was right Tony slips in his tongue and that fight begins. You wrap your arms around his neck as one of your hands start to run up his black and grey peppered hair. The blanket that was previously hanging on your shoulders was now on the the floor as Tony’s hands roamed slowly up and down your back, every once in a while touching your butt and giving it a small squeeze, making you smile into the kiss. Eventually you both have a need to take a breath and pull away, heaving deeply for a moment then both airily laughing. Tony looks over your face for a moment longer then, lifting his hand to move your rouge braid back behind your ear.

“You should get home. Sleep in your own bed. I heard that such practices are done by all aspiring heads of superhero organizations.” He caresses your cheek then pulls away from you, running his fingers along your sides then fully pulling away to, first, hand you your blanket, then, moving around you, to put the pizza box back into the fridge. The loss of contact saddens your mood slightly but you soon begin to clean too, throwing away the plates that you two used then rolling up your blanket so it wasn’t touching the floor.

“Well I guess I would want to do as the greats did.” You head over to the coffee table and gather up the file that was thrown on top.

“Do you need a ride home? I can get Happy to drive you.” You hug your items tight to your chest as Tony struts to you then runs his fingers along your hip.

“I don’t think Happy would be very happy with me if you called him at midnight. I can get a cab.” You step closer to him, craving the touch of his lips on yours one last time. You partially get your wish, receiving a quick, parting kiss from Tony.

“See you tomorrow.” He backs his upper body away so he can get a better look at your face.

“See you tomorrow.” You respond then leave his grip. You turn and move toward the elevator, pressing the button then turning your head back to him and grinning. The elevator beeps and you walk in, waving at Tony as the door closes.

Part 2

#black reader #marvel imagine #tony stark #tony stark imagine #iron man #robert downey jr #tony stark x reader #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #tony stark x black!reader #avengers imagines #request

[the-lady-bryan]

lemon; what’s your comfort food? titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

lemon - oh yes. there’s actually three comfort foods for me. mac-n-cheese. but it has to be homemade. like, completely with the crumbly buttery cracker crumbs on top, baked in the oven, etc. like the absolute best cheesy goodness ever. then there’s pecan pie. it reminds me of my grandmother and how much she hated my cousin who had a nut allergy. like, when i say hated, i mean like hated her in the way only a truly southern lady can. that deep rooted hatred that allowed her to smile and still by the girl birthday and christmas presents but the moment she came into sight everyone around KNEW shit was gonna go down but in this super polite way? it’s weird. but the hatred she held for my cousin was palatable. and i hate that same cousin with the same level of passion as my grandmother and i always feel close to her when i have pie. we hated a lot of the same people and things. and she would tell me all the deep, dark family secrets and shit and give me money behind everyone’s back. basically, if my granny had committed murder i’d be her first call to help hide the body or bake it into a pie or something. and when i miss her or am reminded of how much i hate that bitch Erin, usually around the holidays, i’ll bake a homemade from scratch pecan pie and eat the whole fucking thing knowing that if my cousin walked into my kitchen, she’d die of anaphylactic shock just the way my grandma hoped she would. And lastly, punsit. or is it puncit? fuck if i know how it’s spelled. it’s a Filipino dish that my mother-in-law makes, and she learned it from her step-father (from the Philippines) and taught to my husband. it’s basically glorified eggroll filling. we usually have it with noodles, but it pairs well with jasmine or basmati rice. when i’m sick or have an upset tummy, i want this. it’s also the food we had at my wedding, and the first dish i ate with my husband’s family. it’s rather sentimental to me.

titans - i usually get slow mornings, but i would so much prefer relaxing evenings. i would totally love it if my family would just chill the fuck out in the evenings but nope. i don’t get to have that unfortunately.  but man.... the very rare times i do..... it’s fucking glorious. i get to curl up in my favorite spot with my laptop or a good book, and have a nice hot cup of tea or cocoa. hide in my pile of comfy blankets in my favorite comfy shorts and top and just chill out to music and pizza. it’s wonderful.

violet - ideally, the middle of nowhere. like, in the woods. yeah. in the woods, possibly up a mountain a bit. don’t give a fuck if it snows or not. just, i want to be out in the middle of nowhere, left alone, with wifi, electricity, and running water. with lots of books. and a good SUV or van that can get me up and down the mountain and through the woods. i don’t like big cities, and i barely tollerate the small town i’m in now. i used to love big cities but...  not so much anymore. i hate people, you see, and interacting with them. but most of all, i hate having neighbors. just.... i hate them. i hate having their cats getting up under my house and shitting all the time no matter how many times we plug up the holes and seal off the crawlspace. i hate how they blast their music at all hours. i hate dealing with code enforcement because i went one day too long before mowing my lawn because my lawnmower broke and my neighbor is a petty bitch. and i hate it when i’ve lived next to people who deliberately trained their dogs to attack people (especially children), and i hate living next to crazy people and meth labs and in parts of town run by gangs because it’s all we can afford. i want to live in the woods, maybe or maybe not on a mountain, away from neighbors and their drama and people and the noise and just be left with all the comforts i could want and need, and my kid and my husband and just exist. also i could walk around naked when nobody’s home if i want and not have to worry about the goddamn creeper neighbor trying to peer in through my blinds when he thinks my ass ain’t lookin.

#asky meme #uupiic

[kamino-ink]

Behind The Mask | Lee Felix

✧ Genre: Spiderman!au, fluff, angst

✧ Summary: You’ve started to notice how your friend has begun to show up to class absolutely exhausted, always falling asleep - he claims it’s just his schoolwork and his internship, but what you don’t know is that his so-called “internship” is actually his duty to serve the people of Queens as Spiderman.

✧ Word Count: 3.2k

✧ Check out my masterlist!

                                         ✧

 “So, class, as you can clearly see on the board, there are about four key reasons why water is so vitally important to us, as human beings, and the planet itself-”

 “Do you think this is how he dirty talks to his husband in bed?” Jisung whispered to you across the lab table, leaning dangerously close to a stray beaker on the edge of the desk.

 “Dude, I didn't need that image in my mind. Thanks a lot.” You groan sarcastically to the amused boy, discretely reaching over to slide the beaker closer to the middle of the table so the clumsy kid would (hopefully) not somehow manage to break it.

 Jisung sticks his tongue out at you before turning his attention to a very dazed looking blonde beside you. “Come on, it was funny - right, Lix…? Felix? Hellooo?”

 You tilt your head slightly in curiosity as to why the boy next to you wasn’t answering his other friend, your gaze drifting over to his slumped over form. He was just barely holding his head up with his chin resting on the palms of his hands, though his legs drooped down to the floor, the bottoms of his shoes swaying above the ground. His black turtleneck was covered up by the plaid shirt draped over it’s material, though spots of the coal colored cloth was made visible by the odd tears in the overlapping shirt.

 Lately, you’ve begun to notice something... off, about your close friend. He was mostly quiet, unless he was with you or Jisung, choosing to crack stupid jokes around the two of you instead of trying to amuse a larger crowd. That hadn’t changed, really, but Felix was starting to make weird excuses to not hang out with either of you after school some days - this didn’t happen every single day, of course. Though, whenever you saw him again either at school or outside of it, the teenage boy would be covered in spots of dark bruises or little cuts protected from the outside air by bandages (usually Star Wars or Hello Kitty ones, curtesy of his aunt.)

 Needless to say, you were starting to wonder if maybe Felix had somehow managed to have a run in with a bad crowd - perhaps he had been influenced by them, hence the cuts and bruises.

 “Yo Felix, wake up,” you grunt, noticing how your teacher had paused for a split second in his lecture to send a heated glare to the dozing boy, “what’s up with you? This is the third time you’ve nearly fallen asleep in class just today. It’s not even eleven.”

The blonde slowly adjusted his position on the stool, now choosing to let out a whine as he let his tired body lead him to lean on your shoulder for support - mostly for his head. “s’ the Stark Internship, Y/N, I already told you guys like a miiiilion times.”

 “I am going to personally beat Tony fucking Stark up if he keeps making you work so hard. Does the man have his head so far up his ass that he can’t see how exhausted you are?”

 “Look, I swear he isn’t overworking me. I’ll be on a break soon, promise.”

 “Pinky promise?”

 He lets out a soft sigh, begrudgingly bringing up one of his hands from his lap to link his pinky finger with your own.

 “Pinky promise.”

 “Fuck me!” Felix screamed into his pillow, completely ignoring a smirking, amused Jisung sat at his own desk just a mere few feet away.

 “Eh, I think I’ll pass,” the cheeky teen snickers, dodging a pillow that the younger had thrown violently at him from his spot on the bottom bunk, “you kind of did this to yourself, Lix. You pinky promised Y/N that you wouldn’t let Stark overwork you-”

 “But it isn’t Mr. Stark telling me to do all these jobs, Jisung! I’m the one who keeps putting myself in these shitty situations.” The blonde shot back almost too quickly in his hero’s defense, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed so he could properly sit up and face his friend.

 An entire week had since passed the day in chemistry class where you had made Felix pinky promise to take a real break from his “internship.” What you obviously didn’t know was that Tony Stark had little to no time to direct Felix’s superhero antics each and every day or night; it was all him, for the most part. In fact, you weren’t even aware of Felix’s superhero alter ego - Spiderman. Only Jisung was aware of his otherwise secret identity, not including the amazing scientist himself. Sure, he sort of felt guilty about not telling you of his secret, especially since he knew you would support him through thick and thin, no matter what - the only thing that might change or, well, increase is your babying of him. You already worried enough about his consistent injures, why should he put that burden of knowledge on your head?

 But now, the injures had gotten worse - he had a run in with some ragtag gang of robbers at a convenience store a couple nights ago, and one of the bastards had managed to slash through his suit deep enough to leave a mark on his arm. The following day, he had neglected to wear longer sleeves, which meant that his bandaged wound was open for anyone to see - and boy had you seen it.

 “Felix, what the fuck happened to you?” The burning question had been on the tip of your tongue the entire day at school, only you had decided to wait to confront Felix about it until you both began to walk home.

 “I uh - nothing, I swear - I just got... mugged?” He lied to you through gritted teeth, the following laugh stained with awkwardness.

 “How the fuck were you mugged in broad daylight?”

 “Well, um it was actually like... around eleven, I guess?”

 “What - Lix, why in the world were you out so late? There is no way in hell May would’ve let you out at that time for no reason.” You whirled around on him now in the middle of the otherwise deserted sidewalk, crossing your arms over you chest impatiently.

 “S-Stark Internship? Yeah! I was supposed to get some field work done before the next morning and I forgot the other half of the day, s-so I had to finish it really late.”

 Needless to say, you had quickly snapped in a blind, chilling rage, badmouthing the multi-millionaire in front of his nervous intern, who first came to you as your best friend. You brought up the fact that Felix had promised to take a break from the exhausting internship, to which the already perplexed, panicked teenager had then snapped at you of all people, saying that this internship was basically his duty - his life. Since then, you had been silent towards the boy all week, refusing to speak to him out of pure agitation, worry, and hurt.

 “Listen, I know that this entire ‘I’m a superhero’ thing is really, really important to you. But you have to take a step back and look at the bigger picture sometimes; clearly you’re working too much, and between school and your spidey-shit, I’m honestly surprised you haven’t collapsed yet.” The brunette admitted bluntly. “This isn’t healthy like, at all. I doubt Stark would appreciate you getting hurt so often just because you feel obligated to make him proud.”

 Before Felix could even get a word of retaliation out, he heard his phone’s ringtone faintly going off somewhere on his mess of a bed. He was about to just ignore whoever was calling at such an ungodly hour, but after a sharp glare from Jisung, he tossed a pillow and curled up blanket from the corner of his bed onto the floor to reach his still ringing phone.

 A picture you had taken of all three of you huddled together during Christmas last year displayed itself on the bright screen, showcasing your bright smiles and red cheeks from the cold day last year. The time read one-thirteen in the morning.

 Why were you calling so late?

 “Hello-”

 “L-Lix?” Your voice comes out as a stuttered whisper, immediately grabbing his rapt attention as he presses a button on his phone and puts you on speaker.

 “Y/N, why are you calling?” He notices Jisung shake his head from his seat, clearly wanting you to keep talking considering the dangerously low, nervous tone you were using.

 “I fell asleep on the train and m-missed my stop a while ago. I started walking home, b-but now these two people are following me. I - I think I’m close to the bank down the street, could you - could you come get me?”

 Felix shoots out of his spot on the comfy bed, tossing his phone onto the comforter while he darts over to his closet in a hurry. “Y-yeah, of course! Just don’t stop walking, okay? And stay on the phone-”

 “-Felix!”

 The line cuts off.

 Jisung throws himself up from his seat by the desk and grabs Felix’s phone from his bed, turning his back to the boy as he starts to slide his suit onto his body in a rush. “Felix, she won’t pick up the phone now!” He says quickly, continuing to spam your contact even when they run out of the apartment - not bothering to see if May was awake or not.

 “She said that she’s by the bank, right? I’ll swing over there and take care of the creeps, you call the police and meet me there.” The superhero tells the following boy his plan, already shooting out a splatter of webs onto the side of the building so he can swing into the air.

 He knew that you wouldn’t hang up on him, especially after calling him for help. It was likely that you had already called the authorities beforehand just in case, but he was too worried that they wouldn’t be able to get to you in time. Felix had already lost too many people that he loved in his life, he wasn’t about to risk losing you too.

 The city of Queens was relatively peaceful during the darkest hours of the night, with a good handful of its otherwise lively residents choosing to stay in the comfort of their homes rather than walking around at that vulnerable time slot. While everyone was more than aware of the superhero presence in their world and, specifically for them in the case of the web-slinging hero, city, the rising danger of criminal activity pushed them to refute from stepping outside when the villains might be lurking about in the shadows. This left the city of Queens to be oddly silent during those particular hours, which is why Felix would so easily hear your desperate screaming even before he had turned the next corner that led to the closed bank.

 “Let go of me, you assholes!” You shout at the perps, your voice coming out strangled in taut pain from how the manicured nails of the woman dig into the skin of your neck, her wrist pressing down harshly onto the front of it to regulate your pained breathing. Fighting back had proven useless, as each time you even tried to swing a leg at the powerful woman she would only further intrude onto your sensitive skin, drawing copious amounts of blood that dribbled down your neck and onto your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt having been ripped in the initial struggle.

 “No one is coming to save you, angel,” the man taunts you from a few feet away, cracking his neck, “not the cops or whoever you called. They won’t be able to piece your damn body back together - you see, my sister here has an acquired taste for blood, but mostly from pretty little girls like you.”

 “-Hey now, isn’t that cannibalism or something? Cause’ let me tell you, drinking human blood is not normal. Dude, that is so messed up.”

 In sync, all three of you twist your heads to look to wherever the sudden voice had come from in the dead of the night, the nails digging into your skin in the back of your mind the second someone else had suddenly appeared.

 Perched on top of a dimly lit lamppost was a figure you never would have thought you would be able to see in person - or in a sticky situation like the one you were currently tied into.

 It was him - Spiderman.

 The young superhero casually hopped off of the lamppost and onto the sidewalk, the pads of his covered feet soundless even then - it was no wonder that none of you had heard him approaching. “Alright creepy lady, if you could let my fr- erm, my little buddy go it would be greatly appreciated. Kinda makes my job easier.” He hums nonchalantly, his bug-eyes seeming to move with his suit as he analyzes the situation at hand.

 The redhead practically strangling you lets out a growl, sounding eerily similar to a wild dog, and easily releases her grip on your neck. Your back slumps against the brick wall as you take deep breaths, your throat sore from the strong pressure, stinging pain from her long nails ringing in your head.

 “A spider, huh?”

 “Everyone has a gimmick these days.” The brother retorts sourly, twisting his neck to make it ‘pop’ again while his sister steps up beside his shorter form. “Come on, Spiderboy, I would love to dissect your organs and the girl’s!”

 “I mean, you guys totally brought this onto yourselves.” He quips, not even hesitating to sling out four splotches of his webbing onto the creepy criminals, effectively ensnaring them into the sticky substance.

 But it could never be that easy, and Felix probably should've been expecting that much.

 While he had been making his way towards your shaking body still leaning against the wall for support, he had left his back turned to the two perps. Because of his keen focus on making sure you were still, you know, breathing, he hadn't noticed that the woman had tore through the web - not until he felt an all too familiar tingling sensation run up his arms, sending his hairs flying under the tightness of his suit.

 Before he could spin around and protect the both of you, she had snagged her nails - more like claws - underneath the hem of his mask, pulling it completely over his head and slinging it to the ground. The next few seconds were like a blur to you as Spiderman turned on his heels and threw the woman back onto the concrete with a sickening thud, splaying his web all over her from head-to-toe, including her entire skull so she couldn't catch a glimpse of his exposed face.

 But it was too late - you had already seen him.

 “F-Felix?”

 Said teenage boy whips his head around the second you utter his name in a shaky, bewildered tone. He sees the confusion, hurt, and complete awe in your glazed over eyes; you had seen him, you had figured it out without even needing to try.

 Lee Felix was Spiderman.

 “... so what you’re saying is I have even more reason to beat the ever living shit out of Tony Stark?”

 The blonde hisses a word of protest at your monotone grunt, accidently pressing down a bit too hard on the gauze he was using to wrap up your bloodied neck, which made you whimper softly in pain - almost immediately the boy bandaging you up paused in his movements, the tips of his cold fingers grazing your skin midair.

 “You’re fine, Lix. Keep going.” You uttered to the cautious boy quietly, watching his every hesitant move in the reflection painted on his bathroom mirror.

 When he had heard the sound of police sirens and the frantic shouting of Jisung approaching the bank a few minutes ago, Felix had panicked and grabbed his mask, slipping it over his head before he had scooped you up into his arms and swung back to his apartment. Luckily May had been in a deep sleep, so she wasn’t there to pester you two about your shared injuries.

 Jisung was on his way back, of course, since Felix had texted him a quick sentenced summary of what had happened.

 “Are you not - how are you not angry at me right now, Y/N?” Your best friend questioned you, guilt seeping into his soft, broken voice so much that it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

 “I’ll admit, I’m kind of ticked off that Han fucking Jisung knew before me, but I suppose I can forgive you for, you know... saving my life.” You laugh weakly, blinking slowly at the reflection of the boy, still clad in his blue and red suit, carefully finishing off the bandaging on your neck. While it most certainly was not the appropriate time for your pitiful heart to start racing in your chest at his close proximity and soft breaths fanning out onto your chilly skin, you couldn't help but fall into a short-lived daze when the boy grabs onto your thighs and turns you to face him.

 “I - I did want to tell you Y/N, I swear,” he mumbles, “Jisung found out on accident, and uh, obviously Mr. Stark knows because he gave me this suit n’ all. Don’t - don’t be pissed at him for encouraging me to do this, please? I was already sort of doing this stuff before he found me.”

 “But why, Lix?” You huff a bit selfishly, looking down at the floor of his tiny bathroom. “You could seriously get hurt doing this - we’re just kids, we’re supposed to be doing stupid shit like - like falling in love, going to the arcade with friends, and going to dumbass parties just for the free food.”

 “Because I’m the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, Y/N. I want to protect the people of Queens, and outside of it - I wasn't able to save my uncle, but... I have helped so many other people doing what I’m doing. I mean... I was able to save someone else I love, for once, tonight.” He whispers to you softly, lifting your chin with a single finger so you can meet his steady gaze.

 In all your time being friends with him, you don’t recall ever seeing Lee Felix looking so serious.

 “I was actually able to save you, Y/N - god I was so fucking worried when you called because y-you sounded so scared and I wasn’t there to prevent any of it from happening. I’m so thankful that I got to you before something terrible happened.”

 “I-”

 “Please don't interrupt, for once I’m actually talking about how I feel without chickening out like I usually do,” Felix laughs quietly, watching as your lips twitch into a small smile at his truthful words, leaving him to keep speaking, “I like you - love you, so much, Y/N. S-so, if you don’t mind, could I - could I possibly kiss you?”

 You nod with no hesitation, feeling your cheeks heat up when he gulps and starts to lean in, closer and closer until you lips are brushing against each other.

 “... so should I shut the door before May inevitably wakes up and potentially sees you two kissing? It might weird her out since Spiderman is kissing her nephew’s best friend.”

 “Jisung-”

 “I’ll take that as a yes.”

                                         ✧

#skzwriters #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #stray kids drabble #stray kids superhero au #stray kids spiderman au #lee felix #felix scenario #felix imagine #lee felix spiderman au #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 17 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Len is hovering by the door again, wondering if he should go in or not.

On one hand: it's Mick.

This is all so characteristic of him, really. Just when Len is losing hope, just when the doctors are starting to give up, Mick decides it’s time to defy expectations yet again and struggle his way back to consciousness in dramatic fashion. And not the momentary, illusory consciousness that Len's become accustomed to, moments where Mick's eyes would flicker open and his mouth would move in empty, meaningless syllables.

Real consciousness.

Mick's back.

He's alive, he's - not intact, no, but he's been acing all of the doctors' cognitive tests and he remembers all the facts and dates and events that he should.

He's grumpy and irritable over the food quality and friendly with the nurses while being a jackass to the surgeons and all in all is just so very Mick Rory that it makes Len want to cry just from sheer relief and having missed him so damn much.

(He may or may not have taken a few hours in a convenient hospital storage closet to do just that, father-imposed inability to shed proper tears aside; the world will never know for sure.)

So obviously Len should go in and talk to him.

On the other hand...this is Mick.

The man Len betrayed for years, being a cop without ever telling him. The man who rescued Len anyway. The man who paid the price for it.

And oh, what a price - two-thirds of his body covered in burns, now twisted into scars despite the best efforts of the medical establishment. Serious deterioration and atrophy of his muscles from being in a coma. Bed sores, a swollen throat from routine intubation, scars on his lungs, urinary tract infections...

His strong body, which he was always so proud of, decaying away around him like a living corpse - and all Len's fault.

Len was always willing to accept that bargain: that he’d take Mick's anger or hatred, whatever, anything, anything at all, as long as Mick woke up as himself. But sitting there with an unconscious man and wishing for that to happen is pretty different from actually having to walk inside the hospital room and face the music.

And so he hovers, wondering, debating, searching for some sort of sign of what he should do -

"Snart. Stop skulking around out there and get in here."

Well. That's certainly clear enough.

Len creeps into the room.

Mick is -

Mick is beautifully, wonderfully alive, and honest to God, everything else is so much less important that Len can't remember why he was so reluctant to come in.

Of course, then he tries to open his mouth and say something, realizes he has no idea what to say because months of rehearsing apologies is apparently rendered totally useless after a month of total panicked despair followed by frenzied overwhelming delight and relief, and he abruptly remembers what was stopping him.

What does he even say? How does he even start?

"Where are you showering?" Mick asks.

...on Len's list of ways this conversation could go, that wasn't really one of them.

"Showering?" Len asks incredulously.

"Showering," Mick confirms. "You like to shower in the mornings, it’s morning now, and your very friendly piece of skirt tells me you haven't left the hospital in days. So you gotta be showering somewhere here."

"There's a shower in the nurse's wing," Len says blankly. "Why - wait, what piece of skirt? Do you mean Danvers?"

"Yeah, her," Mick says. "Skirt. She was wearing one – red skirt, with mesh leggings underneath, and also a cute but very concealing sweater with the puppy holding the ice cream cone. She says you know the one...?"

Len is, in fact, familiar with that outfit; it's Danvers' go-to security blanket outfit, the one she wears when she's stressing over something. Usually over Len being dumb, if he's being honest.

Hmm. He really has been living at the hospital the past few days, hasn't he?

"Yeah," Len says. "Definitely Danvers. When'd you see her, anyway?"

His accent slips deeper whenever he's around Mick, he notices; a little less nasal overall, but affecting more words, adding more shortenings and dropping more words. A silent sign of how instinctively comfortable he is in Mick's presence, no matter how stressed he is.

"You were apparently unconscious in a chair in the hallway at the time," Mick says with shrug he aborts with a wince halfway through. "She wanted to introduce herself, set me up with a new phone and group-chat and some shit like that, have me sign some papers -"

"Papers?" Len asks sharply. He'll - deal with Mick actually having a chance to read Danvers' long-threatened group-chat logs later. As far later as possible. "What papers?"

"Apparently I've been suing the police department for being dickheads while I've been out cold and now that I'm awake she needs me to agree to keep it going," Mick says.

Len barely manages to keep from laughing. Of course Danvers would remember that lawsuit Len had some lawyer file in a fit of agonized grief right after it all happened, even though Len himself has long forgotten all about it. How had he ever managed without a personal assistant before now?

"Didn't really ask much past that," Mick continues. "You know I never miss a chance to stick it to the pigs."

Len flinches.

Right.

Trust Mick to bring up the elephant in the room right away.

Mick hates cops.

Len’s been one for years.

Mick just looks at Len steadily. "You never told me," he says quietly. "Why?"

"It wasn't true when we first met in juvie," Len says miserably, hovering by the familiar chair next to Mick's bed but not actually sitting down. "And when we hooked back up later on, started working together on jobs just once in a while, I was brand new and just absolute shit at it, paranoid as fuck. Barely even spoke to the one or two guys that did know, my handlers with the CCPD and the Feds; didn't feel safe enough. And by the time I pulled my head outta my ass, it'd been years and we were partners and I knew you hated pigs and I didn't want you to hate me and -"

Mick starts laughing.

Not in a scornful or miserable way, the way Len might have feared it would be, but actual real deep laughter of the sort he hasn't heard from Mick in far, far too long.

"What?" Len asks, suspicious. "What'd I say?"

"I thought it was 'cause you didn't trust me," Mick chokes out between belly laughs that are probably hurting him. "I shoulda known it was because you're just an idiot. Same as always."

"Hey!" Len protests automatically.

Not that he takes any offense - he knows Mick calls him an idiot because that's how Mick demonstrates affection, with friendly insults and ribbing and casual death threats.

But he's not an idiot!

At the very least he doesn't think he's done anything that qualifies him to be called an idiot at this exact moment, anyway.

"Fine, then," Mick says, getting better control over himself - probably better for his health and well-being - though he still has a giant shit-eating grin on his face. "Not an idiot. A goober that can't do social situations for shit, that better?"

"Not really."

"S'true though."

"It ain't! I can do social shit! I do social shit just fine!"

"Even when you're not conning someone?"

"Even when I'm not conning someone!"

After all, Len assures himself, Barry totally continued to want to date him even after he'd stopped trying to con him...

Maybe that's not the best example.

"Uh-huh," Mick says, looking amused. There are little wrinkles of laughter by his eyes; Len hadn't noticed those, before. Amazing what months of memorizing a person's slack unconscious face will reveal. "Lemme guess. That'd be this Barry Allen guy Danvers' chats keep mentioning."

"...you've read them."

That emotion he's feeling right now - is it horror, extra horror, or extreme horror?

Mix of all of the above, clearly.

"Oh yeah. I've definitely read them," Mick says gleefully. "But I wanna hear about it from you directly."

"Mick."

"Don't you 'Mick' me. I've got no other entertainment right now, and you know I like romance shit."

"You like pulp sci-fi and ninja romance stuff, not just romance," Len objects. "This story..."

He trails off, considering for a moment.

"Well, it ain't got ninjas," he finally says. "As far as I know, anyway, though there was a weird mention once or twice of something fucked up happening Starling, I dunno. And it might've been a bit romantic, but right now it's mostly just tragic."

"Tell me about it anyway."

"Tell you about what?" Len complains, finally taking a seat next to Mick on his bed. There's a chair, too, but chairs are for losers who don't get to sit on comfy beds with their best friends who, amazingly, appear to be forgiving them for - well, everything. How Mick can do that sort of thing, Len has no idea. "There's nothing to it. I got bored in between investigating the million and one corrupt assholes in the CCPD and find out this one guy who's been acting suspicious apparently disappeared for nine months, supposedly in a coma, but then reappeared with no damage and these amazing abs -"

"No kidding, I've seen the pics."

"Goddamnit, I’m gonna gut Danvers; those are technically evidence and she shouldn't be sharing them. Anyway, turns out he ain't corrupt, he's just a fucking superhero. Who'd have thought, you know?"

"Not really anyone's first guess," Mick agrees.

"And first I think he's okay, you know," Len continues. He's ranting. He's aware that he's ranting. He can't seem to stop himself from ranting. "Because he's kind and friendly and optimistic and he's got this stupid smile that lights up the room, but I'm thinking no way anyone's this perfect, he's gotta be up to something, but I get this idea in my head that it must be that he's investigating the superhero - this is all happening before I figure out he is the superhero, that is - so I start dating him anyway -"

"Dates go well?"

"Amazingly. He legitimately thinks my puns are funny."

"Clearly a match made in some level of punster hell," Mick says.

"Shut up, puns are funny."

"Lowest form of wit."

"Lowest circle of hell's supposed to be cold, so I guess it fits," Len says, rolling his eyes. "Did I tell you yet that he thought for a while that I was a supervillain named Captain Cold? That's my new nickname at the precinct."

"No, but that's hilarious. You always did like your cold puns. Actually, you probably didn't know it, but people – criminals, that is – sometimes called you Ice-heart Snart."

"That's...awful. I'm glad I didn't know about that."

"No kidding. Captain Cold's much better. So he thought all of that about you and dated you anyway?"

"No, he didn't realize I was the Internal Affairs guy at first; I didn't tell him ‘cause I was investigating him. Anyway - wait, where was I?"

"Amazing dates," Mick prompts.

"Well, they were," Len says. "Absolutely amazing. Best I've ever had - just talking and laughing and just being happy hanging out and all that stuff that comes right out of that romance stuff you're always on about - and then, of course, just as I start thinking that I finally got lucky, it all blows up in my face. Turns out he's just as bad as I thought when I first started looking into him, and I should be happy to be proven right except for some reason I'm not, and now I can't stop thinking about how awfully he's gonna do in prison when he finally gets sent there like he deserves. I feel like shit about it and I don't know why -"

"Of course you don't," Mick says, sounding amused. "You wouldn't."

Len eyes him suspiciously. "You say that like you do know."

No way. Mick's been in a freaking coma; how could he have figured out what the hell's going on with Len's emotional state before Len did?

"Lenny," Mick says, sounding just a bit patronizing. "I might be a blockhead, but I've been interpreting your emotions for you since juvie. 'course I know."

"You're not a blockhead," Len protests automatically, always on guard against anyone - even Mick - putting down Mick's intelligence. He hates it when people do that; Mick's one of the smartest guys he knows, even if he doesn't talk all that pretty. "You just don't got as much education as some, s'all."

Though Mick's got a point about Len's emotions.

Not that Len's going to ask him to explain.

It doesn't matter, after all, what's done is done. Who cares how he feels about it?

Who cares about understanding why Len feels like he got a shiv to the gut every time he even thinks about Barry - about Allen, damnit - and a feeling like he swallowed crushed glass but also a weird kind of happiness left over from when every thought of Barry brought him joy?

Who cares -

Len. Len cares. Len cares a lot.

"Okay, I'll bite," he says, giving in. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"You're in love with him," Mick says. "Obviously."

...what?

No.

Impossible.

In love? Len doesn't do love.

Len's never done love, or at least not love like that - love for Lisa, love for Mick, yes, but not the stupid sort of Valentine's Day love, the type you read about in novels that you don't admit to reading, the type that makes the world turn around you and leaves you breathless and chokes in your throat, ripping your heart out of your chest because it belongs to someone else who doesn't care as much as you care, and leaves you with an awful gaping hole in your belly whenever you think about the fact they're going to go away for good somewhere where you won't see that optimistic smile or hear that laugh or -

Shit.

Shit.

"...I really am an idiot that can't do social situations for shit," Len says aloud, realizing.

"You really are," Mick says, but he sounds fond. "Don't worry; I came to terms with that years ago."

"But I can't be in love with him," Len says, trying so desperately to shove that knowledge back under the river of denial where it came from that he doesn't even make a de-Nile pun like he usually does. "I can't! He - he's - he's done unforgivable things – kidnapping, imprisonment, solitary – literal war crimes – and he should've known better, he's corrupt -"

"Sounds to me like he made some mistakes -"

"Mistakes?!" Len yowls.

Mick holds up a hand. "Okay, fine, yeah, some of those mistakes are crimes, some might even be war crimes, but seriously, Snart, if you stopped liking someone just because they committed a couple of horrific crimes, you and me, we wouldn't be friends."

"It's not the same thing!" Len protests.

"I'm an arsonist, Lenny; I literally murder people sometimes."

"Usually as an unintended side effect," Len says dismissively. Intent matters, when it comes to criminal stuff; most of the time Mick could be blamed for nothing worse than negligent manslaughter and that's only technically murder. Len checked. "He's corrupt, Mick. He put himself out as being a hero, as someone doing the right thing, as someone upholding the law, and all the while he's doing stuff like that in the shadows...I can't be in love with someone like that, Mick. I can't. Look what corruption did to you! Look what it did to me and Lisa, when it was my dad! Look what -"

Mick catches Len's hands, which Len has been waving angrily in the air.

"Don't move like that!" Len exclaims, losing his prior train of thought immediately. "Your muscles aren't used to sudden movement; you'll hurt yourself!"

"It hurt," Mick says. "It was still worth it. Boss, you're spiraling."

"I'm - what?"

"Spiraling. My shrink told me about it; you get stuck in a mental rut and you can't get out of it, so you just go in circles, on and on, torturing yourself with all your bad thoughts. In this case, it's me." Mick squeezes Len's hands. "You've been torturing yourself with what happened to me. Except instead of thinking about it and dealing with it and getting over it, you've poured everything you feel into your war on corruption, focused so much on it that you're seeing unforgivable corruption and betrayal every way you look. But you don't gotta keep doing that. I'm here. I'm okay. I'm alive."

Len stares at Mick.

His hands, still enclosed in Mick's, start shaking. His shoulders, too, and he can't seem to make them stop.

"You're alive," Len croaks, suddenly finding it hard to talk. He’d known Mick was alive and mostly well for a while now, couple of days, but it suddenly feels like he’s learning it all over again. "You're alive. You're alive and you're talking and you're you and - fuck, Mick, I nearly lost you."

"I know."

"I can't do this shit without you," Len says, desperate now. "Any of it. Life, the universe, everything; it doesn't matter. I need you by my side, Mick. I need my partner - I need my best friend. It all turns to ash without you."

"I'm here," Mick says, strong and solid and dependable as ever. "You've got me."

"I don't -" Deserve you, Len is about to say, only he chokes on it; he never knew he felt that way. "I lied to you. For years. By omission, by commission...I put my job above our partnership. I shouldn't have. I really shouldn't have. You're more important - you're the most important. I ain't never gonna put anything above you ever again. Not work, not romance, not anything nor anyone. Not anything. I'm so goddamn sorry, Mick. Not just for what I did to you, for what happened, but for the lying. For all of it."

"You're an idiot," Mick says, and he squeezes Len's hands again. "Total idiot. Boss, it's fine. Really. I get it. I get why you made that choice - especially now that I know it was all about your issues, not about me and what you thought of me. Even before that, though, I got it. I knew you were a pig and I came to get you anyway, remember? Through gunfire and furious Families, and that's saying something."

Len nods mutely.

"I did it because we're partners," Mick tells him. "And we're always gonna be partners. Always gonna be friends, even if you do something dumb like lie to me or fall in love with a target of your investigation before you finish investigating him -"

"Hey," Len protests, but weakly. Mick has a point. A very good point.

"No matter what, it doesn't matter," Mick concludes. "You and me against the world, remember? That ain't changed."

Len nods, and turns his hands to squeeze Mick's hands back.

"Now for the love of fuck can we please stop talking about feelings?" Mick asks, almost begging. "You really don't pay me enough to be your shrink. You couldn't. You could offer me all of Fort Knox and I wouldn't be your shrink."

Len snorts, maybe a little wetly but not from tears because he doesn't do tears, and pulls back his hands. "Yeah, sure, we can stop. I think I hit my yearly quota of feelings there."

"No kidding," Mick says fervently. "You hit yours, and mine, and then mine again a few time. I'll let you off the hook this one time, just 'cause I know you've been saving it up the whole time I was out, but still, for someone who likes to say he don't got a heart, you sure got a hell of a lot to say. Oh, and don't think I didn't notice you slipping that 'ash' pun in there."

"Ash is the right word!" Len protests. "Just because it's fire-related don't mean it's always a pun!"

"With you, it's always a pun," Mick says firmly.

Len laughs. If it's a little more hysterical and sounds a bit more like sobs than it normally does, they'll both be more than willing to overlook that.

As they like to remind each other, they don’t have hearts – or at least they know to keep them well hidden.

(God, Mick is Len's best friend - how did he last so long without him? No wonder everything's been screwing up left and right while he's gone.)

"Hey, wait a minute," Mick says thoughtfully, "while we're talking about this shit, before we shove it all down the memory hole, tell me - how come you never had to turn me in? I did plenty of crimes while we were running as thieves."

"Were running?" Len echoes, alarmed, and he looks down at Mick's legs to see if something's happened to them in the last few minutes. The doctors told him Mick would get his mobility back, or at least most of it, and his legs aren't as affected as his back and shoulders. There should be no impact on his ability to run, or at least to walk quickly. Or does Mick know something he doesn't...?

"Yeah, I hear through the grapevine that you got yourself a new job," Mick says dryly. "Not much thieving to be done there. Plus I figure it might be time to retire from the whole thief thing myself, too, all things considered."

"Ah. Right. I forgot."

Metaphorically running, right, that's an option.

"Don't go forgetting you quitting crime, boss; it's a kinda big deal. You really got a business card like Skirt says?"

"Yeah, it's awful," Len says. "Stamped, embossed proof that I'm legit now."

"Embossed," Mick marvels. "Now I know I gotta retire, if you've shifted over to doing the hunting."

"I'm Internal Affairs, actually," Len says. "I only hunt corrupt cops, district attorneys, and other government employees, not criminals."

"Really? Huh. Shoulda known you'd find a loophole – crime-fighting without actual crime-fighting."

"What can I say? I'm very good at what I do," Len sniffs, smiling when Mick laughs - finally getting the double meaning that's always been there. "And, uh, about your crimes -"

"Yeah?"

"So, I might've registered you as a CI couple of years ago," Len confesses, deciding that exactly how many years constituted a couple was an open question up for debate. Couple could totally mean a decade plus. "Proper legal confidential informant for both the CCPD and the Feds. Then after a few years of that, I got you swapped over to being classified as full undercover -"

"Wait," Mick says, alarmed. "You telling me the reason all of my prison sentences were so short was 'cause the judges all thought I was a pig?!"

"You didn't care about the reason back then!"

"I'm a pig?!"

"No, you never went to police academy, you ain't a pig," Len says, rolling his eyes. "I told 'em you were working for me as a non-officer agent, and it ain't like they really care about a few arsons when they've got the whole set of Families to take down. You're a snitch at best."

Mick considers this.

"I'm okay with being a rat," he finally decides. "I like rats. They're cute. Remember Axl?"

Len does remember Mick's pet rat Axl. Mick doted on him, and even Len got pretty fond. They ended up having to find him a new owner - a woman with a gigantic rat cage that took up half the living room, which both she and Mick agreed was the right balance of pet-to-owner space (Len thought they were both nuts) - and he lived to a ripe old age with god-knows-how-many descendants.

"But seriously," Mick continues, "they actually all bought that? Didn't they ever ask you why I was willing to do all that work without being paid?"

"Well. Actually..."

"Boss. Boss, no. I know that tone of voice. You telling me I got paid? Is there some savings account somewhere with my name forged on it that you conveniently never told me about?"

"Maybe."

Mick rolls his eyes, grinning; he knows that's as good as a yes. "Anything else you'd like to tell me while we're at it?"

Len considers this. "...did Danvers' group-chat mention my cold gun?" he finally asks, reaching down and patting the piece in question. He'd been carrying it with him in case Barry tried to come confront him or something, though luckily Barry hasn't.

Barry wouldn't. He knows that, now that he's thinking a bit more calmly. Not at a hospital, certainly, but not ever. He wouldn't force his presence on Len like that, thinking he was unwanted.

"At length, yeah," Mick says dryly. "Your new baby."

"Well," Len says, ignoring that. So what if his gun is the best, sweetest girl he's ever seen, once you exclude Lisa from the calculations? "What Danvers doesn't know is that it came as part of a set - one cold gun, one heat gun."

"Heat gun? Like a flamethrower?"

"Better - it manipulates the intensity of infrared waves. You can light anything on fire."

"Boss," Mick says. "I've already forgiven you for the whole pig thing. You don't need to heap on the presents."

"You saying you don't want it?"

"You bet your ass I want it!" Mick exclaims, laughing. "Man, I'm gonna need to thank this Allen guy when I meet him; you never used to give out such good gifts."

Len flinches. Just a little, but Mick notices, of course.

"Boss?"

"You won't, uh, you won't exactly be meeting him," Len says. "Anytime...ever."

"Why not?"

"Because after I found out about the secret prison thing, I had his foster dad arrested for corruption, got warrants to search the homes of his two best friends, and got Barry suspended from his job without pay pending investigation. So I don't think he's really in the mood to talk to me."

"...shit, boss," Mick says after a long few minutes. "You sure love to put the 'over' in 'over-reaction', don't you?"

"They committed crimes," Len says defensively. "Very bad crimes. And they should've known better!"

"Boss! Ain't you the one always telling me about how intent matters? Ain't they being manipulated by some mastermind creep asshole who's good enough to be playing the Families? Even criminal courts don't consider stuff done under duress and deception to be as bad!"

Len winces. That's...not actually wrong. Sure, they committed some fairly horrific crimes and they totally should've known better, but there were some extenuating circumstances he probably ought've thought a bit more about. Any man who could play not just one but multiple Families clearly had an edge when it came to mind games - and don't think Len hasn't noticed the way Barry'd described the toxic atmosphere and emotional jibes and the almost parental relationship the guy set up in his office, which is the sort of environment that can convince even otherwise intelligent people to do seriously shady things.

It's not an excuse, not at all. But it is something of an explanation. Probably not enough to knock down the charge from primary to accessory, but a judge could definitely look at that and find lots there to help mitigate -

"Boss..."

"I know, I know! You don't understand, I was just really angry -"

"Boss!" someone that is definitely not Mick exclaims, bursting through the door. "We've found something!"

Len is off the bed, one crutch in the air wielded as a club, before they even finish the sentence, and then he realizes it's just Detective Thawne and Iris.

"Oh, it's you," he says blankly. "How'd you even know to find me here?"

"Uh," Thawne says, eying the raised crutch warily. "Ms. Danvers told us. Pretty reluctantly. You - wanna put that crutch down? You're looking a bit unsteady."

Len rolls his eyes and does, sitting back down.

"Does that work?" Iris asks. "As an improvised weapon, I mean?"

"Better than you'd think," Len says dryly.

"How come he's still got crutches, anyway?" Mick asks from his bed. "Ain't it been months since he got fucked up?"

"Apparently he keeps tearing his injuries back open," Iris says.

"Damnit, boss..."

"That's not the reason," Len says, even though he kind of does do that more than he should. "It's because the second gunshot nicked my spine and it takes lots longer to heal from that."

"And you keep tearing your injuries back open," Iris says wisely.

"...and that," Len concedes grumpily.

"I'm Iris," she adds, waving at Mick. "Iris West. This is my fiancé, Eddie Thawne. We're helping Captain Snart here investigate the disappearances -"

"Heard of you," Mick says, waving in the general direction of his phone. "Skirt – uh, Danvers – she’s got a group-chat with running commentary up -"

"I want in," Iris says at once. “That sounds amazing.”

"- but you said West, right? Didn't the boss here just..? Why you still working with him after that?"

"Because my dad deserves to get into trouble over this shit," Iris says, an angry glint in her eyes. "Between the lying and the deception and the blatant aiding and abetting of human trafficking, I'm starting to wonder if I ever really knew him at all -"

"Hold up," Len says. "Fiancé? That's new. Congrats, both of you."

That works splendidly to derail Iris, who spends the next few moments showing them both her ring while Thawne blushes and smiles and is entirely unable to look away from Iris, stars in his eyes the whole time.

"Nice," Len says. "Tasteful - pretty, but with some class."

"I'd definitely steal it," Mick agrees.

"Definitely," Len agrees. “I could fence that in minutes.”

"You're both very sweet," Iris says. "And if it ever goes missing, I'll be sure to check with you two first. Anyway, not the point! We came here to tell you that we've figured it out!"

"The Families' 'big day'?" Len asks, immediately interested. "Or Wells' connection to it?"

"Both, actually," Thawne says, brightening. "It's complicated and - well, a little frightening, but we think we have an idea of where the rabbit hole leads, at least, although I wouldn't go as far as Iris and say we actually figured it out."

"We got a good start," Iris says, with dignity. "That's further than most people've gotten."

"And you managed to do it without being 'disappeared', well done you," Len drawls.

"He means that as a compliment," Mick remarks.

"Yes, we gathered," Iris says, grinning at him. "Listen to the tone, not the words, right?"

"Sometimes the tone'll mislead you, but yeah, generally. I usually use body posture - the more lounging, the better his mood."

Len pointedly straightens back up, causing Iris to snigger, Thawne to smile, and Mick to chuckle.

"What's this about Families, though?" Mick asks. "Thought Snart was focused on corrupt cops and government people now."

"I'm sure I can find a police corruption hook somewhere," Len says airily. "You know what they say, you can take the boy out of org crime work..."

"Not a real saying, Snart," Mick says, long-suffering. "Never was."

"Actually, you might have more of a hook than we originally thought," Thawne says. "You see, the Families -"

"Plural?"

"That's right, Mr. Rory -"

"Mick."

"Mick," Iris says with relish. She's going to use this to try to get permission to call Len by his name, he just knows she is. Pity she's doomed to disappointment. "Yes, Families, plural; we've confirmed that all the Families in Central have agreed to work together on this."

"All of 'em? Shit."

"Agreed," Len says.

"Shoulda stayed in the coma..."

"Don't say shit like that or I'll smack you with a crutch," Len tells him, then transfers his attention back to the other two. "So what is it? What's the big day? And, perhaps equally important, when?"

"We can answer your last question best," Thawne says. "We're still not sure exactly what the Families are planning - we know it involves a lot of movement, a lot of manpower, though probably a lot of that is just security - but we've identified what the major Central-wide event they're going to use to conceal their mobilization."

"You're not going to like it," Iris interjects.

"I never liked any part of this," Len points out. "Hit me."

"The Families' big day goes down on Election Day," Thawne says.

"...Election Day," Len says. "Election Day. Election Day?!"

He's pretty sure he's not adequately conveying the sheer horror he's feeling right now.

Election Day.

Not the one held in November, which is all well and good, but the important one for Central City purposes: the primary election that happens each year in May.

The day where the real candidate selection takes place.

Only one of the wildest days of the entire Central City social calendar.

Most of the country has faded into widespread apathy, not bothering with votes that they feel rarely matter, and all the more so when it's "only" a primary – but not Central City.

Oh, no, not Central City, with its still-functioning political machine with its armies of thugs available to help 'encourage' voting. Central City's government might be rife with corruption, yes, and one-party control is practically a given, but at some point some genius decided to deal with the fact that there are competing sources of corruption by allowing a total free-for-all when it came to who got the nod for what position.

Corporate candidates battle it out with nationalists and progressives and reformers and who-the-hell-knows-what-else. In Central, even the communists abandon their flag in favor of competing in the bloodbath of Election Day, knowing that the political machine would force the city - and with it, the state - to fall into line come the federal election day, a far less important date.

Election Day.

And the Families are moving.

Not a good combination.

Especially since –

“Election Day is tomorrow!” he exclaims.

"Yeah," Iris says grimly. "Not good at all. Like Eddie says, we haven't figured out exactly what they're up to, but if it's on Election Day, dollars to donuts is that it involves the election itself."

"And with the Commissioner hoping to run for mayor while the mayor runs for governor, getting anyone's attention to doing anything to stop them will be a trick and a half," Len says, equally grim. "What'd you find out about Wells?"

"We think he's being used as a liaison between the Families and more legitimate entities," Thawne says. "Although why -"

He cuts off in the middle of his sentence.

Quite reasonably, in Len's view, given that they are no longer alone in the room.

The Man in Yellow is here.

The name Barry gave him is apt, Len thinks; far more than the Reverse Flash. Beyond the monstrous speed, there's nothing of Barry here at all, not even a reflection.

Standing in the middle of the room with his entire body vibrating at a consistent blur that Barry hasn't mastered, utterly human but for his demonically bright red eyes, the Man in Yellow smiles.

"Don't let me interrupt you, gentlemen," he says, his voice as blurred as his face. He's being obnoxiously courteous, in a sort of arrogant narcissist way that suggests he's entertaining himself in the moments before he plans to kill them all. "You were saying -"

"And lady," Len interrupts, rising to his feet.

"...what?"

"Gentlemen, and lady," Len says. "I believe Iris identifies as a lady."

"I do," Iris says, looking somewhat perturbed by Len's sudden interest in grammar. "‘Gentlemen and lady’ is in fact correct."

The Man in Yellow - Wells himself, or someone in his employ - blinks those shining red eyes, clearly taken aback.

Len assumes he had some sort of introductory speech planned out. Too bad for him that Len isn’t the type to willingly subject himself to evil monologues.

"Would you like to move on to the part where you threaten to kill us all?" Len inquires. "Or do you generally just go straight to the actual murder?"

The Man in Yellow laughs, the sound ringing through the room. "I usually like to make a point of it," he says, raising a vibrating hand. It's moving as fast as a sawblade - if he touches any of them with that, they're done for. "But I think you're right that I should just move on to the main event -"

Len shoots him with the cold gun he'd wrestled into position while the Man in Yellow was distracted by Len’s grammatical non-sequitur.

The Man in Yellow screams.

"Iris, Thawne, run!" Len shouts, keeping the cold blast aimed dead center at the Man in Yellow's face and torso. He'd theorized, based on what happened when it hit Barry, that a hit straight to the head would be disabling to a speedster as long as the beam was maintained; with such key areas targeted, the speedster's body would prioritize healing the damage over anything else, robbing them of the presence of mind they would need to either run away or attack.

"Come with us!" Iris shouts back.

Len centers his legs, which have started shaking, and exhales through his nose. He needs both hands to aim the gun properly - two hands, which leaves none for his crutches; that's why he's been using the braces whenever he's gone out as Captain Cold. Still, all that PT is finally coming in handy: even without crutches, he can stand.

But not for long.

The second he falls back to sit on the bed, his hands will slip, and the beam will drift off target - only by a little, only for a second, but that's all the Man in Yellow will need to escape.

If he tries to leave, he might be able to keep the beam on him until he reaches the door -

But there's one person in the room who can't leave.

"I ain't leaving Mick," he shouts back. "Get out of here! Find a place to hide!"

Even at superspeed, hiding would force the Man in Yellow to look for them - they certainly can't hope to outrun him.

"You get out too!" Mick snaps even as Iris nods jerkily and hurries out, urged on by Thawne. "Boss -"

"I ain't picking something over you again and that's final!"

"Damnit, Len -"

Len's legs give out.

The Man in Yellow darts out of the beam, snarling in rage, his face - and it does look like Wells under what little is left of that mask, or the pictures Len's seen of him - still covered in ice and burned by swiftly healing frostbite.

And then there's a swift wind.

Len closes his eyes, expecting to die so quickly that he doesn't have time to question it - or perhaps to be taken to be tortured, if that's more Wells' speed -

Heh, speed.

Wait a second.

He hasn't been moved - his side would've been protesting if he had - and he's not dead, because he feels moderately sure he wouldn't be around to continue sniggering at puns if he was.

He opens his eyes.

The room is empty.

Wells is gone -

- but so is Mick.

"Mick!" Len cries out, even though he knows it's futile. The Man in Yellow has him.

Wells has his Mick.

"Snart!" Iris cries out, bursting into the room. There are tears of terror and rage streaming down her cheeks. "Snart - he took Eddie! I saw him - the red lightning! He took Eddie!"

"He took Mick, too," Len says, barely able to process it. He just got Mick back - he just fucking got Mick back after nearly losing him to people who hurt Mick because of Len, and here it is, happening all over again.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Families if it wasn't for Len, and what he did and who he was.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Man in Yellow, if it wasn't for Len's investigation.

Mick -

Mick, who is still bedridden, who is still hospital-bound, who will die if he didn't have the treatment he needed -

Mick is gone.

#coldflash #leonard snart #mick rory #barry allen #iris west #eddie thawne #eobard thawne #Harrison wells #my fic #an internal affair

[crashdevlin]

Bottle: Ch. 2 What I Aim For

Ch. 1

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 4272

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship, non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: non-con (past), mutilation (past), torture (past), PTSD, depression, alcoholism

"So, what are you?" Clint asked over his beer after they’d been sitting at the bar for a few minutes.

She didn’t look over at him. "What do you mean?" Cassie bit her lip.

"Loki doesn't go for human women. He thinks he's a God. He wouldn't have…” Clint looked forward, trying not to hurt her feelings as he continued to speak. “...claimed you if you weren't something special. And you seemed a bit too interested in your blood while you were in that fever dream."

Cassie sighed and downed the rest of her beer. "You were SHIELD so I guess I'll tell you. My father was a superhuman. Like Captain America, but... you know, more German.” She waved at the bartender and pointed at a bottle on the shelf behind the bar. The bartender moved to pour her a glass. “I wasn't anything special before Loki touched me with that staff. SHIELD did 10 years of extensive testing, but after... I'm the heir Hydra wanted me to be. I've been hiding it for a year. I'm not human, anymore. That's probably why he, you know, marked me." She finished.

"How'd that heal?" Clint asked, putting his hand up to order another beer.

"It scarred about as much as you can expect. If I wasn't science savvy, it would have been worse. Couldn't really go to the hospital without bringing about an investigation. I imagine all of your wounds were mental."

"Yeah. Mostly. Nat helped me with those… and shooting the ass with an exploding arrow helped a bit."

"Wish I could have seen that." She took a drink of her rum.

"Kinda." Clint finished for her. She nodded. "So, what did he say to you to make you go lab crazy?"

"He told me to live my legacy.” She cleared her throat. “Then he left and I was filled with this urge to recreate the serum that turned simple Steve Rogers into Captain America. I'm just glad I failed."

"I almost killed all of my friends and the one person I care the most about. I'm pretty happy I failed there."

"Well, cheers for failure." She offered her glass to him and he lightly touched his rim to hers.

He sighed and turned to look at her. "So, you hide well. You'd never know from looking at you that you're a super soldier."

She shook her head. "Not a soldier. Just super.” She chuckled, without humor. “But I appreciate that. It's a lot harder than it seems. Took me weeks of breaking beakers before I got used to my strength."

Clint gave a humming noise. "Maybe you should talk to Banner, he knows a lot about living with unnatural strength. He might even be able to help turn you back."

"No. I don't think so. It's not like he can go in and take Red Skull out of my genetics.” She shook her head again. “Besides, I'd really like for Captain Rogers to never know I exist. Two Avengers already know whose daughter I am, I don't need a third to know."

"Just think about it... or maybe you could tell Stark. He's pretty much a genius."

"I think I'd rather just drink a lot. Drink until I can't remember where my scars came from.” She downed the rest of her rum. “I mean, I don't see my liver shutting down any time soon. It was running at 100% last time I did my panel."

"Well, then, we're gonna need shots."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie wished she was drunk. Unfortunately, with her body working in optimal conditioning and her purse out of cash, she was only tipsy as Hawkeye walked her to her apartment building. He, however, was plastered.

"I feel like I should be walking you home, Barton." She said, softly.

"I'm fine. I'm’n Avenger. I can walk home drunk in New York City." He said, slurring slightly and tripping over her own feet, as they made it to her building.

She sighed as she talked herself into something completely out of character. "No, come on, Clint. You don't have a bow or a gun on you. You probably couldn't reliably shoot either of those things, anyway. I've got a pretty comfy couch and it's not like you've got work tomorrow. Just come up." She urged.

Clint looked up at the door to her apartment building where she was standing, then sighed and followed her into the building and let her help him up four flights of stairs. She grabbed a pillow off her bed and a blanket out of her closet and carried them to the couch. "Be careful with that blanket. It was a gift."

"From an ex?"

"From Phil Coulson." He nodded in understanding, before bending over to fumble with the laces on his boots. "Well... have a good-"

"Could I see it?" Cassie turned back to him. He had his shoes off and was sitting on the edge of the couch. "The scar… what he wrote?"

She swallowed, nervously, and shook her head a little. "I haven't... no one's seen it."

"Can't bottle everything forever. Can't keep your shirt on forever." He said, flippantly.

"I can keep it to myself." She whispered, and she planned to. She didn’t plan on anyone seeing her shirtless ever again and the idea of someone seeing her scars filled her with panic.

"But you shouldn't." He said, nonchalantly. Cassie couldn't help but be amazed at his drunken wisdom. It didn’t take away her fear, but it was just blase enough to force her to rethink it.

She swallowed, taking a steadying breath as she pulled the zipper of her jacket down. Her hands shook a bit as she fumbled with her blouse buttons. When she got her blouse partially unbuttoned, she let her arms rest over the fabric of her bra as her shirt hung loose and she sat on the edge of her wooden coffee table in front of Clint. He reached forward and she cringed slightly as he let his rough fingertips dance lightly across the scar tissue spelling ‘MINE’ across her left breast.

"He thought he was going to win and you would be just his." He said, before reaching up to trace the Asgardian runes along her collarbone. "What's the Viking scratches mean?"

"Um." Cassie had to battle her embarrassment and the anxiety coursing through her in order to speak. No one had seen her shirtless since Loki, no one with her consent since Phil. "This one is Lies... Deception, according to my Viking runes book. It'd be closest to Asgardian alphabet. This one is, like, King or God."

"His name?"

"His title, yes."

Clint reached over and rubbed a calloused hand lightly across her cheek. "At least he didn't scar your pretty face." He whispered before lightly slapping her cheek and lying back and covering himself with the green knit throw.

Cassie allowed herself to chuckle at her own expense as she walked into her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie woke up at 6 am and quietly dressed for work, applying modest makeup before quietly leaving her room to start a pot of coffee. As she opened her door, a scent of bacon and coffee hit her. She'd been expecting to find Clint still asleep on the couch, but instead she found him leaning against her fridge, eating a BLT.

He smiled at her around a mouthful of food. "There's some bacon left in the pan. Coffee's ready."

"Thank you." She smiled politely at him.

"Best hangover cure ever." He said, gesturing with the sandwich.

"I know." She responded, nodding as she grabbed a mug from the mug tree on the counter. "It's mostly the sodium and the bread. I used to do that every Sunday morning.” She pulled open her fridge, having no trouble moving the archer out of the way with the door, and grabbed her french vanilla creamer. “I drank a lot once they finally let me out of the Fridge. I had a lot to celebrate... back then."

"Bet you haven't needed a BLT in a year."

She shook her head as she put the creamer back in the refrigerator. "No matter how much I drink. Just a bit of coffee gets me going."

"You know, there are laser treatments for scars now.” He popped the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth. “I'm sure Stark would pay for it if he knew Loki had done the damage... in Tony's own house." Clint said, brushing crumbs off his hands.

Cassie fought the urge to rub her hand across her scars. "Yes, but that would require questions and answers and an investigation and Stark wondering what happened to the security footage.” She took a drink of her coffee. “I'd rather just ignore it all and keep my shirt on."

"But you look so much better with it off." He said, with a small smirk.

Cassie could feel her cheeks flush deep red as she looked down at her coffee. "Was hoping you'd forgotten that part."

"I try not to forget grabbing a beautiful woman's chest."

She reached past him and grabbed 3 rashers of bacon from the pan. "You really are laying it on thick, huh? You keep making me blush, Barton, I really will look like my father." She said, forcing a bit of her old self to the surface.

"Sorry. Default." He said, with a chuckle. "Had to be charming or I never would have gotten girls."

"What, girls didn't find archery and arrow-making sexy when you were younger?"

"Do they now?" He asked, incredulously.

"Well, some badass archer helped save New York from an alien invasion. It's gone up a bit in popularity."

"I thought Iron Man and Captain America saved New York?"

"They do get a disproportionate amount of the publicity." She mused, her face returning to it's normal pale color again. She took several gulps of her coffee and turned to away from him.

"Maybe next time aliens attack, it'll be me and Nat with the glory."

"Maybe." She responded, placing her empty mug in her sink.

Clint leaned down next to her ear and quietly said, "Maybe it'll be you. You are a super now."

She turned and shook her head. "I don't know how to fight. The first Chitauri to find me would be the one to kill me."

"A little Ops training and you'd be fine."

She put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him away so she could walk out of her little kitchen. "I've kinda always seen myself as a Science and Technology person in SHIELD terms. Not really Ops material."

Clint scoffed. "You know, Ops agents aren't stupid. You can't be stupid and do what we do.” He put a hand up to quiet her next comment. “And before you bring up education, I have street smarts."

She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. "I got my GED in the Fridge and I'm less than a year from my Bachelor's in Biology. You have none of that and you've been out in the real world your whole life."

"What do I need all that for? I'm a superhero." He said, smirking.

Cassie laughed as she grabbed her purse. "Okay, well, I gotta head to work. This isn't the best neighborhood and I only have the one set of keys, so if you could just... pull one of your superhero tricks and lock up when you leave."

"No.” He said, simply. “I'll pull one of my thief tricks for you, though."

She couldn't help but smile in amazement. "I think I'd like to have a conversation about your past one day, Clint. Unfortunately, I'm about to miss my train, so that day is not today."

"My number is in your phone. Call when you want a drink or conversation, or some Ops training."

"You don't quit, do you?"

"I always hit what I aim for, Campbell. You should know that about me." He winked at her as she headed for the door.

"Noted, Hawkeye. I'm out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Cassie returned, her door was still locked. She walked to all of her windows and found each of them locked except the small window in her bathroom. She opened it to double check that there was no fire escape under it.

"Wow, he must've been a great thief." She muttered.

"He was. Until he grew a conscience and joined up with the Strategic Homeland blah, blah, blah." The voice coming from behind her stopped her dead. She felt frozen as her heart rate went through the roof, then immediately leveled out thanks to her enhancements. She forced herself to turn and look into her bedroom. She could feel herself shaking as she stared at Loki, standing in her bedroom next to her dresser. "Did you miss me?" He said, with a smirk.

Cassie's adrenaline called for her immediate response as she settled on flight, running for her bedroom door. She slipped, hitting the floor as Loki appeared in front of her. "Did you think I carved your skin for fun, Joanna? Did you think I would not be watching you, that I would not be coming back for you?"

She hugged her knees to her chest, intent to make herself as small as possible. He knelt down next to her crouched form. "You are mine. You have brought 2 men to your home within the last spin of your Earth. You will bring no more.” He demanded. “Not Clinton, not the SHIELD agent, none of the young males who fantasize about you in Stark's tower. You are mine. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." She whispered. "I understand." When no more threatening words came, she looked up to see that she was alone. Her mind racing, she pulled her phone from her pocket and started scrolling through her contacts. She got to an entry listed as 'Hawk' and dialed out.

"Clint... I think I'm losing my mind." She said, as soon as the call connected.

"What happened?" He asked, concern ringing through his words.

"I just had an LSD-grade hallucination.” She took a deep breath and scratched the back of her neck. “Loki was here. He was in my room. He told me that I was his and that he'd be coming back for me. He was so pissed off that you'd been over. Clint... I've never... it was so real."

"Look, I'm sure it's just stress.” He said in his calmest tone. “Do you want me to come down there, check the place out?"

"No!" She responded quickly and a little too loudly before covering. "No, he's not... he's not here. I would really like to be not here, too, though. Can I take you up on that drink offer?"

"Sure. There is a place near the Tower. Meet me at Stark's and we can head there together?"

"Thank you, Clint."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The prickly feeling on the back of Cassie's neck went down a bit as she approached the Tower and saw Clint leaning against the wall. "Hey."

"Hey. You okay?" Clint asked as she approached.

"Yeah.” She lied. “So, where are we headed?"

"Block East. Dive bar." Clint pointed down the street.

"Thank God. Let's go."

They walked in silence, Cassie just basking in the feeling of safety being around the hero gave her. Clint opened the door to the bar and held it for her. She walked in and wrinkled her nose at the smell, but walked to the bar, anyway. Clint ordered four shots of rum and handed two to Cassie, before leading her toward the back corner.

As soon as she could see the corner booth, she recognized the back of Tony Stark’s head sitting with his back to the wall. She turned, hoping to quietly leave, but Clint put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to talk to him, but I recommend it." He said, seriously.

She sighed and sat down in the booth across from Tony. She downed her two shots rapidly and reached for one of Clint's. Tony’s eyebrows raised as he looked at her. "Robin Hood says you have issues. You know, issues that I should care about as an Avenger, not as the guy who puts money in your wallet."

As Cassie downed the third shot, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t tell her boss this story while looking into his eyes. "When Loki showed up at the Tower, he hypnotised me with that staff. He... raped me and carved my chest up with Asgardian text but worse, he broke my DNA.” She slicked her lips and shook her head, trying to defeat the tears trying to form under her eyelids. “He unlocked whatever part of my father was inside of me. I've been hiding it for a year and tonight I think the stress has finally broken my mind because I saw him. I saw Loki and he was so pissed that I was trying to have a life again."

"So, what, you haven't donned a spandex suit and started working to clean up the Bronx, yet?" Tony quipped.

"Excuse me?" Cassie asked, her eyes opening in surprise.

"You don't see it this way, I'm sure, but this is a gift.” Tony assured her. “To hide it away and never use it is cowardice. Your father was such a horrible person that he stopped being human so that he could be more horrible. You've been running from his past since Hydra created you. Now, you have an opportunity to make up for his villainy, and your sister's, for that matter.” Cassie blinked at him for a few moments before Tony continued. “You're smart. I mean, you work for me, so that's a given. Now you're genetically revved up, you'd be a perfect addition to the Avengers."

Cassie shook her head. "There's two problems with that. The Avengers are a group brought together during a time of emergency by Nick Fury, who happens to be playing dead. And I can't work-"

"I can call the Avengers." Tony interrupted. "And if this is about Stars and Stripes, you'll be fine. You'd be surrounded by other superhumans, me in my suit and Katniss over there. Even our resident Russian has reason to keep Rogers on the straight and narrow, so you'd never have to worry about it. There is no reason for you to say 'no', here, and if you are seeing Loki, maybe he's not really dead. Maybe he tricked Thor with his out-of-character sacrifice, which actually makes a lot more sense when you think about it. Maybe he thinks you belong to him and he's coming to take what he wants and you better know how to defend yourself this time. No time like the present to start training."

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She had just assumed she was going crazy. She'd never considered that Loki might actually still be alive. She turned to Clint. "You really do hit what you aim for." She said, humorlessly.

"I did warn you." Clint said with a shrug.

"And you're gonna need to move into the Tower. Can't have an Avenger living in that shithole in the Bronx."

"You want me to move into the building where I spend 10 hours of my day working?" She asked, incredulously.

"It'd make for a shorter commute. Besides, it's not that bad. There are some one-bedroom condos on the floors beneath the Penthouse that I added for Avengers and employees in need. Since you would kinda count as both right now..."

"Sir. If I may speak as one Avenger to another... you talk too much."

"Pepper says that, too. I guess I really do like the sound of my own voice. Come on. One of you drink that and we'll head to the Tower. I have way too much money to let Avengers sit here and drink rat piss."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie stepped into the elevator next to Tony, who’d driven her to her apartment in a small, fast Maserati and helped her retrieve the things she wanted to take with her to her new place. She'd been in this elevator almost every day for months, but she'd never noticed that the buttons stop at 50.

"Okay, Jarvis. Take us to level 69."

"Right away, sir." A British-accented voice came through the speakers.

"Oh, so, that's how you get to the top of the building." She mused.

"Assuming I don't fly, yeah." Tony confirmed. A minute later, the doors opened up and Tony stepped out, Cassie following. "Which apartment is biggest?"

"6906, sir, by 152.8 square feet." Jarvis answered.

"All right. Print her up a card and give her access to the voice controls in the elevator. This one is yours." He said, opening her door and stepping inside.

Cassie stepped inside, setting the photo album and knit blanket that she'd retrieved from her apartment on a small table in the entrance hall. Her boots thudded on the hardwood floors as she walked into the apartment's living room. A small brown leather sofa and a recliner were arranged around an oak coffee table and in front of a wood and glass entertainment center. She could see a soundbar and a stereo alongside the 55 inch flat screen tv. The white shag rug under the coffee table was immaculate. She spun around a bit.

"Gas range in the kitchen. French door fridge. 1200 watt microwave. Some other stuff Pepper picked out. She tells me that we're gonna be dropping off some food in the morning. Some more of your clothes. This is all yours now. Only me, you, and Jarvis can open the door. Utilities paid, cable, WiFi… and this." He said, pulling a small metal orb with a tiny black button on it. "Loki comes to call, push the button and roll it to the middle of the room. It takes instant 360 panoramic pictures of the room and sends them to my tablet, suit, and phone. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I will see what's happening. Hopefully, I'm not in my own fight at the time."

"Thank you, sir. I feel a lot safer here. And I'm not just talking about the pimp I lived next to who was always trying to recruit me."

"I could comment, but I'm choosing not to. Get some sleep. You have a lot to do in the lab tomorrow. And when you get done there, come down to B3 and Barton can start your training."

"Yes, sir."

"'Tony' is fine. Just not in front of the other lab rats."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassie lay on top of the comforter in her new queen bed and wrapped the knit blanket around herself. She fell asleep quickly, considering she wasn’t drunk like she usually was, but she woke an hour later to see Loki standing in her bedroom doorway.

"My words just flow past you like dust, don't they?" He said, walking to the foot of her bed. "I came to you and reminded you to whom you belong, something I ought not have to do as I etched a daily reminder into your bosom. But I did it anyway, as assistance in you not further enraging me. Yet, the very first thing you do is call to Clinton. Then, you vacate the place I have allowed you to reside and lay here. Were I not so cynical, I would say you came here because of the wonderful memories of our oh so short time together. Alas, I am a realist and I can only assume that your new living arrangements have more to do with protection garnered from the metal man upstairs, than fond nostalgia for me."

Cassie grabbed the orb from under her pillow, pushing the button as she sat up, and discretely rolling it to the foot of the bed. "Please, don't hurt me."

"Hurt you? What gave you that idea? I don't want to hurt you, Joanna. Just like everyone else on Midgard, I just want to rule you."

Cassie looked around, hoping for Tony to show. "But I'm not like everyone else, am I? You didn't... carve any of the other Midgardians. You didn't.. I saw the footage of Germany. You barely looked at anyone there, except that old man who refused to kneel. You found me kneeling, cowering, so it wasn't the challenge. What is it about me, Loki? Why am I yours?" She asked, putting her hand over the scars on her chest.

"Because you're going to give me my army… and strong children, half superhumans, half Gods, who will succeed me.” Her eyes widened at the assertion. “You will be the Queen I never could have gotten on Asgard. The whole 'human Queen, halfling progeny' thing will make me a much more likable ruler to you Midgardians."

"You... what?" She asked, confused.

"I don't call you 'queen' lightly, Joanna. In my many centuries, I've only ever offered that term to you. You will be my queen, the creator and leader of my armies, until such time as your human blood rebels and leaves you cold."

"You made that decision in the two seconds it took you to pull me out from under the lab table?" She squeaked, an angry confusion forming in her chest.

"Oh, no, of course not. I knew about you before I ever stepped foot in this monument to Stark's narcissism."

"How?"

"Your new friend, Barton, knew all about you. He told me everything I needed to know, Joanna."

"That's not my name!" She shouted, swiping at him with her hand. He disappeared right as Tony opened her bedroom door, repulsor beams ready.

"You okay?"

#fanfic #avengers fanfiction #agents of shield fanfiction #angst #slight fluff #loki (marvel) #non-con #torture #alcohol as a crutch #steve rogers #clint barton #the avengers save the ofc

[killer-barnes]

Get Out.

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Deciding to stay in for a date, Peter and the Reader are faced with annoying and embarrassing comments from the whole team, who are unaware of their relationship.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: language, fluff, annoying avengers (??), embarrassed!Peter, embarrassed!Reader, cuteness, LOTR trilogy. (Let me know if I missed any)

A/N: Alright homies, I apologize it has taken me so long to upload something. I’ve been reaally stressed. So hopefully this is okay? For the anon that requested this, I hope you like it. I’d love some feedback, as always. Enjoy reading!

Dark, gray clouds blocked any source of light from shining through the big, thick glass windows surrounding every inch of the building.

The entire tower was filled with a solemn mood that spread into every corner and room.

Most of the team dreaded days like these, since it put a damper on their mood, (especially Steve).

You, however, cherished days like these the most.

It’s where you find your peace and inner self, no matter how depressing that may sound.

It helps you relax and release any stresses that corrupt your thoughts.

But the best reason of all is that you don’t have to leave the house, even if you had a date with Peter tonight.

However, thinking that idea through, you realized something.

The whole team would be here.

With Peter and you.

During your date.

Well, fuck.

Now, your dad, Tony, know you and Peter are dating, but when it comes to the rest of the team, you tried to keep it under wraps.

You hated all the attention and knew Peter most likely felt the same, since he barely did any PDA.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell the team, you just didn’t want all the questions and embarrassing comments to surface once you do.

Like, for fucks sake, you were just trying to have a successful relationship, especially since this was your first.

And since it was your first, you had an advantage of being able to manipulate the team into thinking nothing was going on.

Smart pickle, amiright?

After reminiscing on these past memories and moments, you head towards the bathroom in your room and wash the filth that was covering your skin.

Once you returned out of the bathroom from the steamy, hot shower, you grab a simple pair of comfy clothes and continue downstairs towards the kitchen.  

Knowing most of the team, besides Bucky and Steve, are still sleeping, you try to be as quiet as possible getting some breakfast for yourself.

Pulling out a random box of cereal from the oversized pantry your dad insisted on buying, you pour it into a bowl and grab the milk from the fridge.

Putting everything away, you carefully walk towards the living room to watch some morning cartoons, as Steve and Bucky arrive back from their usual morning run.

Too focused on the show, you don’t hear Steve come behind you.

“Mornin’, Y/N.”

Grasping a hand over your heart, you set the cereal down carefully before exasperatedly replying, “Shit, Steve. I’d say good morning, but you made me almost spill my cereal all over me, jerk.”

Hearing Bucky chuckle from behind, you glare at him.

“Got somethin’ to say, Barnes?”

Laughing, he puts his hands up in defense, “no, doll. Continue bashing Steve.” 

Turning your attention towards Steve, you hear him sigh.

“Sorry, Y/N. Just wanted to see how you were doing since you’re up so early on the weekend.”

Internally groaning at how hard you were on Steve, you fill with guilt.

“No, Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m doing okay, thanks for checking on me. H-How are you doing?”

Smiling and kind eyes glistening, Steve takes a seat beside you.

“It’s okay. But, besides this awfully depressing weather, I’m doin’ good. Buck and I just had a great run. Wasn’t too hot, which was nice, y’know?”

Returning the smile, you chuckle, “is that rain or sweat then? You need a shower either way, Cap.”

After taking a whiff of himself, Steve shrugs, “eh, probably both. Who knows. Do you have any plans today? I think Tony was talking about a mission or something.”

Sinking into the couch, you mumble, “most likely this. It’s too gloomy to do anything but binge movies. A mission? Hm, I haven’t heard anything from my dad.”

“You sure are living the life, huh kid? I remember on days like this, Buck and I would play some cards or go to this little diner that was at the corner. They played some good music.” His face full of glee, taking a glance at Bucky.

Placing your hand on his, you give him a sympathetic smile.

“Y’know, I wish I could’ve been alive during that time. Seriously, if I could go back to any time period, it would have to be mid 40’s or 50’s. I mean, besides all the war and stuff, the culture is what I’d love to experience.”

“I didn’t know you liked it so much, I would’ve ranted with you about it all the time! Well, how about once you have time, I’ll talk all about it. Okay, kid? Man, I can’t wait to listen to the music again.”

“That’s the best part, my friend!”

Conversations like these with Steve made your day shine brighter than before.

He felt like the older brother you never had and you were so grateful to have him, as well as the rest of the Avengers.

Most of the team knew you and Steve would talk about random things all the time, so no need for suspicion there.

As Steve left to take his shower, you cleaned up your breakfast and headed back into your room, unsure of what to do.

Opening the door, you realize how dark it actually is and decide to open your blinds to let as much light as the sky is willing to bring in.

Turning towards your bed, you see a lump that wasn’t there before.

As you get closer to inspect, you hear soft breathing and see the covers lift slightly.

The random “guest” moves to find a better position, causing the covers over their face to fall, revealing the one and only, Peter Parker.

Chuckling to yourself, you squeeze next to him and pull him into you.

Eyes widened, Peter blushes, “h-hey, Y/N. M-Morning, uh- I thought you would still be sleeping, but I came in and you were gone and I was just so tired tha-”

Silencing him with a peck on the lips, you add, “that you fell asleep on my bed? You’re such a dork, babe.”

The blush on his face burns against his soft cheeks as he looks down, mumbling, “d-do you still want to do the d-date? The weather is horrible outside. I had everything planned out, too!”

Lifting his face to yours, you see an evident pout.

“Hmm, what if we had a movie day here? We could have the theater room all to ourselves and binge whatever we want.”

“That sounds amazing,” Peter adds, “but, what about the team? T-They don’t know about us a-and I wanted to make our time special, together.”

Fuck, your words know how to melt my heart.

Dear lord.

You thought, looking into Peter’s chocolate brown eyes.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty sure they are all busy anyway. Steve said something about a mission.”

Sighing, Peter questions, “will we have to go?”

Playing with his fingers, you murmur, “hmm, I don’t think so. My dad would’ve mentioned it last night. He probably doesn’t want us going because of school and all.”

Peter scoffs, “yeah because he cares soo much about school.”

You smack him and chuckle.

“I’ll head to the theater, while you get the snacks, okay? Don’t look suspicious, Peter.”

“As you wish!” Peter exclaims, running down to the pantry in the kitchen.

After grabbing some pillows and fluffy blankets, you headed down to the theater, cautiously looking around every corner and turn.

Arriving safely, you set up the blankets in a comfortable position and open the cabinets that hold your dad’s array of different movies.

As you start browsing, you hear the door open behind you.

Coming down the steps, Peter’s arms are overflowing with snacks and drinks.

“I could’ve helped you, babe.”

Peter looks at you sheepishly, “what? No. I’ve got it, see? I’m Spiderman, I’ve go-”

However, Peter missed a step, causing the handful of goodies to fly above his head.

But somehow, somehow, he manages to catch everything with his web shooters.

“Bravo, bravo, my hero,” you clap dramatically.  

Peter smirks as you, “Spiderman is always here to save the day, baby.”

Once you two had settled down, Peter let you choose the movies to marathon since he always picks one of the Star Wars movies.

You too were a big nerd, so of course your first choice was the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Best 12 hours you’ll ever experience.

You thought, pressing play.

Peter had never seen them before, so this was the perfect chance to get him hooked and marathon with you in the future.

Plus, you need him to steer away from Star Wars and show him the rest of the nerdy movie world.

“Get ready for 12 hours of pure walking, my friend,” you mumble, with an excited expression.

“What?! They just walk? Y/N, babe. Noo-”  

Putting a finger to his lips, you hush him.

“Shut your cake hole! You’ll love it. Just watch, please?”

Turning his attention to the movie, Peter begins his own 12 hour journey.

The rest of the Avengers are spaced all over the tower.

Bruce, Tony, and Bucky are in the lab going over some new quirks to make on Bucky’s arm.  

Steve and Sam are in the living room playing cards, as the news is on low volume behind them.

Wanda is in the family room on the farther side, reading a book, while Nat is looking through some Cosmo magazine.

And Clint is bored out of his fucking mind.

“How are you guys not bored? This is hell. Pure hell.”

Steve chirps in, “well, want to join us in cards? Sam’s winning, but I bet you could kick his ass.”

Sam scoffs, “you can sure as hell try, arrow guy. But no promises.”

“Wait, whatever happened to that mission Tony told us about?” Nat spoke up.

“I guess it was a false alarm, or somethin’.” Steve answers.

Sighing, Clint gets up from laying on the ground, “I’ll pass, birdman. Bu- hey, where’s Y/N and Peter? I haven’t seen them all day…”

“I don’t know, maybe working on homework or something? They do have school on Monday and you know Peter..” Wanda interjects, looking up from her book.

“Actually, I think they might be in the theater. Y/N was saying something about a movie marathon this morning?” Steve questions.

“Without me? Geez, what have I ever done to you people?” Clint yelps, raising his hands in the air.

“They’ve been doing a lot of things together…” Nat comments, looking suspicious.

Sam is the first to get up and sprint towards the theater, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to spy this one out.”

“I second that!”

‘Wait! I want to come!”

Meanwhile, you and Peter are already on The Two Towers.

So far, Peter enjoyed the first one, which made you happy.

“These are really fucking cool, Y/N! I can’t believe I haven’t seen them before. I’ve been missing out.”

“Hell yeah you have, Pete! There’s more to life than just Star Wars.”

Putting a hand over his heart dramatically, Peter replies, “ah, my heart! Star Wars is life…”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.”

Tip toeing up towards the theater, the team cautiously avoids making any obnoxious noises.

As they get closer, they hear the character, Eomer, from the movie announce, “What business does an Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!”

“Why the fuck are they watching the Lord of the Rings without us?! Those movies are the shit! Oh, they’re so going to get it,” Clint exclaims over the loud movie.

He quickly makes his way up to the closed doors and barges in, however since the movie was so loud and the characters were bickering, Peter and you didn’t hear Clint enter.

Clint stomps down the stairs in the dark room illuminated by the large screen.

The team is slowly walking behind him, careful of each step they make.

As Clint reaches the row you are in, he stops dead in his tracks, the rest of the team bumping into him as they turn their gaze to where he is looking.

They all see you snuggled into Peter’s chest as he slowly places a kiss to your head, smiling.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Clint shouts, gaining the attention of the two love birds.

His shout causes both you and Peter to jump.

“W-What? Uh- I- nothing, w-what?” Peter stutters, eyes blown.

“You’re watching Lord of the Rings without me? I cannot believe this.”

With a confused face, you quickly lie, “o-oh, sorry, Clint! I forgot to, uh, get y-you!”

Hearing Nat chuckle from behind, you give her a glare, which she just smirks at.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s have a marathon!” Clint exclaims.

Mentally slapping yourself, you think,

Well, this is officially the worst day of my life.

After a few minutes, you hear Nat speak up during a quiet part, “so, how long has this been going on, you two?”

Avoiding the real context of the question, you dumbly reply, “well, since it’s the second of the three, about 8 hours?”

Laughing, Sam interjects, “I think you know what we’re talking about, Y/N. Don’t play dumb with us.”

Looking to your left at Peter, you see him blushing and looking at you with a pleading look.

“A-Alright, we’ve been dating for, uh, 4 months.”

Hearing a bunch of ‘what’s’ and ‘the fuck’s’ you hide your face into Peter’s neck.

Peter laughs nervously. “Well, at least we got that over with, right…?”

“Oh, you wish, Parker. You are going to get an endless amount of shit for this,” you hear Nat tease.

Groaning, you wish you were dead.

Nothing is worse than this.

After a couple hours, you were on to the last movie, the Return of the King, your personal favorite.

However, you were getting sleepy due to the amount of food and snuggles you’ve been having with Peter.

Seeing your face contort into a huge yawn, Peter turns his gaze towards you.

“H-Hey, babe? Are you tired?”

“Hmm…? Jus’ a little, Pete,” you reply sleepily.

“Here, lay your head on me. I’ll wake you up when it’s over, okay?” Peter softly inquires, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“God damn, you two are so cute.”

“Oh my god, goals.”

“Tony is going to kick Parker’s ass.”

Turning to face the team, Peter whispers loudly, “GET OUT!”

Soon enough, they all scramble out of their seats and you two are finally able to finish your date in peace.

Even if you fell asleep.

A/N: Fuck, this is pure trash. I’m sorry guys. Forgive me on this one. I just kept blabbering on about nonsense. Yikes, anyways. Please let me know what you think. I need reassurance.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagines #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bruce banner #hulk #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #clint barton #hawkeye

[thegirlsinthefirehouse]

Descendants, Chapter 30

-----

Holtz and Abby had thankfully gotten their parents sent off back to Michigan and Maryland with well wishes and more than a few gifts. 

The biggest one for them was that now they could have a few moments of peace and quiet to just themselves. The Ghostbusters headquarters was still closed with Patty and her wife on vacation. Erin and David decided at the last minute to take a mini-vacation to go skiing after Christmas. When Holtzmann questioned Abby about taking a trip, she shook her head.

“Between the speaking engagements, lectures, book meetings, and such, I think I’ve seen too many hotels. I’d just like to stay home for the holiday.”

So for New Years, the team decided to celebrate the new year together at the firehouse with lots of fresh buttery popcorn and sparkling juice. Cheyenne had even made them chocolate truffles with different flavorings before she had to be back at work. Holtzmann had found herself fond of the cinnamon ones as Patty was telling her all about their trip to Hawaii. Erin had already been texting with Abby about being a little upset and would be running a little late, but she hadn’t explained why. After coming in with the traditional champagne for midnight, she sat down beside her best friend and curled up.

“He wouldn’t let me tell them.”

Abby sighed. She had been afraid of this. She liked David, but...

“Did he give a reason why?” she asked, handing Erin one of the truffles.

“He didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” she said. “Just in case we changed our minds.” Erin closed her eyes, enjoying the chocolate. “I am beginning to think that he believes that come April when you are in the throes of motherhood and you and Holtz are dealing with a fussy newborn that I will get disinterested and will want to concentrate on the work.”

Abby knew David had a point there, but she wasn’t about to say that to Erin. Work really was all that Erin had to keep her sane for so many years, up until she had found a family again with them. She had even met David on a mission when they had to clean a couple of ghosts out of the small college’s bell tower where he had taught at the time.

“What do you think?”

Erin frowned slightly. “I don’t... I don’t know?” she said. “Maybe?” She grimaced. “I know that sounds bad.”

“It doesn’t,” said Abby, shaking her head. “Everyone has doubts.”

“I want to have a child... maybe even a baby,” said Erin softly. “I wanted to tell my parents and his family that we were adopting.”

“We?” questioned Abby. “So David was on board with adopting?” The look on her best friend’s face was all she needed to know. She had a feeling what was coming. She closed her eyes.

“Erin, you two are getting a divorce, aren’t you? That's why you took the extra vacation.”

“Sep-- Separated,” said Erin. “He wants some time... alone. To think. I think he’s actually scared of fatherhood.”

“I’m going to have to give him a piece of my mind,” said Abby, her teeth clenched. She started to stand and go find her cell phone.

“Okay,” said Erin, grabbing a hold of Abby’s arm and patting it. “Reel it back in Abby. There’s no need.”

“Someone needs to--”

“I can fight my own battles,” smiled Erin sadly. “But thank you. For trying.”

“So, adoption?”

“Still going through with it.”

“I tried to convince Holtz, and see where it got me,” smirked Abby. Erin laughed softly.

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t get to see your cute baby bump,” said the redhead. She rubbed a hand across it. She leaned into her best friend, who wrapped her arms around her.

“Can I cry now?”

“Always,” said Abby, rubbing Erin’s head, wishing there was something she could do to help her.

“And why am I missing out on this cuddle party?” asked Holtz. “This is preposterous, a travesty even!”

“Come on Holtz,” said Erin. She felt the blonde curl into her back. She laughed when Patty sat down on one of the squashy cubes that Abby and Holtz had for extra seating and blanket storage and wrapped her arms around them all.

“It’s a group hug of the best sorts,” said Abby.

“I’ve had dreams like this,” said Holtz sexily.

“Don’t even go there Holtzy. You’ll make this weird.”

“Too late Patty,” grinned Holtzmann. “Thought’s out there.”

“Urrrgghh,” said Patty. Abby patted her cheek in sympathy.

“At least you get to go home. I have to put up with her.”

“We’re going to miss the ball dropping,” said Erin. Tears were already beginning to go down her cheeks.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Abby. “We can start a new tradition of couch cuddles for the new year. Though we’re going to need a bigger couch for next time.”

“I second that,” Holtz said, picking up Erin’s hand and kissing it before doing the same to Patty. Abby pulled Erin tighter when she felt her begin to sob.

It definitely was going to be an interesting new year. She looked at Holtz, who grimaced when she realized that something was actually wrong with their friend. Patty was rubbing the back of Erin’s neck and shoulders. All three of them shared a grim look as Erin curled into a smaller ball and cried.

-----

“Erin’s asleep,” said Abby to Holtzmann as she closed the door to her and Holtz's bedroom. “Completely conked out after I got her to lay down.”

“And you look about as exhausted as she did,” said Holtz. She gestured for Abby to join her in bed. The brunette curled up on her left side and laid her head on Holtzmann’s chest.

“I thought I was going to have to tell Erin to move and let me check the nursing pads in my bra. I felt wet, but I guess it was from all her crying.”

“She was definitely distressed,” said Holtz. “Patty’s already planning for us to go jump David at work.”

“It would probably be better if you didn’t do that,” said Abby. “I don’t think Erin wants us to fight her battles for her.”

“She told you that, but said nothing about us,” Holtzmann said with a grin.

“You don’t need to Holtz,” said Abby, running her fingers up and down Holtz’s stomach. “Patty maybe.”

“What’s the matter with me?”

“Because you’re having a baby already with the reason Erin’s thinking of children in the first place.”

“Good thinkin’ Abs, but it still doesn’t help that we’d like to get beat his ass for hurting Erin like that.”

“Believe me, I quite understand,” Abby said as she moved around a little. “You’re quite comfy Holtzmann.” She rubbed Holtz’s hip and knee. The engineer looked at her wife in amusement.

“So you want to have New Year’s sex?”

Abby gave her a look. “Can’t I just touch my wife who’s pretty?”

“If by touching, you mean pulling down her boxers and getting her off, then yes please.”

“Now who’s wanting New Years sex, honey?” said Abby, pulling down Holtzmann’s sleepwear. The blonde let out a soft sigh when Abby stroked her labia.

“I just have a need and want for my beautiful partner,” said Holtz, making a face as her hips twitched at the movement. “I had to opt for taking a picture of Erin all curled up on you instead of our normal New Year's routine of kisses. It’ll be good blackmail later, but I didn’t want to share.”

Abby instantly knew what Holtz meant. Since Erin was having issues with David, she would be there with them more. Erin was her best friend after all. The first couple of months after everything had settled from the near Rowan induced apocalypse had been a little testing of Erin and Holtz’s friendship because Erin and Abby had been making up for lost time. But Holtzmann tried to be a good sport about it all since they hadn’t seen each other in 16 years. Not that Abby could really blame Holtz. She had been missing the alone time they had together as well. Higgins had been crappy, but at least it had been just them in their own small lab.

And in about three more months, their little one would be there too. Not a lot of time to be together. She could understand Holtzmann’s bout of jealousy.

“You’ll always come first,” said Abby, rubbing Holtzmann’s clit, which made the blonde moan. “Well, after Eliana or Elijah.”

“Of course,” said Holtz, letting out a pleasured sigh. She stripped off her sports bra. “I have already accepted that taking care and feeding a newborn every two hours will come first.” She gave Abby a smirk.

“Oh no,” said Abby. “I maybe food, but you are involved in playtime and diapers. And after a couple of months, we will be working on them taking bottles from you.” She kissed Holtz, still stroking her sex. Holtz pulled out of the kiss, eyeing her wife with a sneaky look.

“I’ve changed my mind. Getting you off sounds way better right now.” Abby squeaked when Holtz started pushing on her pants. Holtzmann was definitely feeling playful. Not that Abby minded in the least.

-----

“Okay!” said Erin, looking at her friends. “New Year.” They were all gathered around the large conference table in the firehouse. They had all come in for part of a day to get back in the swing of things. Holtz was sitting back in her chair with her feet up on the tabletop. Patty was texting with Diana about their meet up time next week. Abby had her head down on the table.

“What’s the matter with her?” asked Patty to Holtzmann.

“Abby and breakfast this morning were not a good match,” said Holtz, stretching. “Apparently the kid was not fond of apple cinnamon pancakes.”

“We shouldn’t have gone out for breakfast,” Abby said with a grimace. Holtz pushed a bottle of Sprite closer to Abby, who glared at it from where she had her chin perched on the top of her arms.

“I wish I knew how to quit you.” She took the bottle and opened it. Patty shook her head.

“Now there’s an old ass reference. Brokeback came out in what, like 2005?”

“Abby and Sprite are my OTP,” grinned Holtz, running her fingers through her curls.

“OTP?” repeated Erin, confused.

“One True Pairing,” said Patty. “It’s a thing the kids used to say when they talk about their favorite couple on TV or movies... Like I dunno, you two liked Mulder and Scully right?”

“Mulder and Scully were some of the first shipping wars on the internet,” said Erin, laughing. “God, those are some memories.”

“You thinking about all the Usenet group posts?” said Abby, a slight grin. “There were some doozies.”

“Remember when you started that idea that Mulder was really an incubus?” said Erin.

“Oh god, I spent way too much time in the supernatural and paranormal sub-boards back then,” said Abby. “We helped that one fanfic author, remember? They had posted about wanting some science help.” She paused. “Didn’t that story get very popular?”

“Yup,” said Erin. “Even made it into one of the fanzines. She didn’t even thank us.”

“Did we just step into something we shouldn’t have?” asked Patty to Holtz.

“You’re watching history,” said Holtzmann. “That is the starting days of shippers on the internet.” She stole Abby’s soda and took a drink of it. “One of these days our grandchildren will marvel that we used to post on message boards with just text.” Patty rolled her eyes.

“Okay, away from memory lane,” said Erin, holding onto the back of the chair she was standing behind. She glanced at Abby, who was trying not to laugh.

“Are we all ready equipment wise for boot camp next week?” Holtz gave her a salute.

“Great,” said Erin. “That’s one thing we don’t have to worry about. Uhh...”

“Patty and Holtzmann have already taken care of that one call we had over the holidays about an owner’s dead bulldog’s ghost floating in their downstairs den and drooling massive amounts of ectoplasm all over the carpet. Erin, you and I have that speaking engagement in New Orleans in a couple of weeks we need to work on, and Holtz you have that other interview--?” Abby gestured to Holtz, frowning as she couldn’t remember.

“Scientific American.”

“Right,” said Abby. “And--”

“Oh and Abby, the cutoff date for flying is 36 weeks,” added Patty.

“Great,” said Erin. “We’re going to beat it by a whole month.” When Holtz made a face, they all knew what was coming. Erin and Patty’s eyes met each other and Erin looked at her watch.

“What?” said Holtzmann. “I’m not saying anything. Abby and I have already discussed this.”

“Loudly,” added Patty. She watched as Abby took the soda back from Holtz and was sipping on it before holding the back of her hand over her mouth. Abby grimaced before speaking.

“Well today is not the day that I am going to discuss not flying down for the conference. I am exhausted and we have a very large, looming deadline.”

“And Patty and I have got to meet with our accountant later,” sighed Erin. “The edits may have to come this evening.”

“Just as long as they come. We are presenting this in two weeks,” said Abby. “I don’t think we need to be going over this at the last minute the morning of at a Starbucks.”

“We’ll be fine,” Erin said quickly. “Kevin coming in today?”

“Still in Australia for a couple more days,” said Holtz. “He texted Abby that his uncle wasn’t doing very well after a stroke, and his mother wanted him to stay on just in case.”

“Poor Kevin,” said Patty, frowning. “Should we text him back and tell him to stay as long as he needs?”

“I did,” said Holtz. “Abby’s already hired a temp from...?”

“First Source,” she responded. “Her name is Susan and she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Great,” said Erin. “I guess that’s everything unless someone wants to talk to the Safety Commission for me? And order Holtzmann’s monthly supply of fire extinguishers?”

“I’ll let you do that on your own,” said Patty, standing up and rubbing Erin on the shoulder. “I got a cursed book I want to look over before we head out.”

“I’ve got to set up a few more things in the basement,” said Holtz. “So I am going to need those fire extinguishers.” She winked at Erin in passing. The redhead looked at Abby.

“So... anything back from the editor over the holidays?”

“No, still in limbo,” said Abby. “The book is only 280 pages long. I mean, what can they be editing over there? The length of the actual pages the words printed on? With like, itty bitty sewing kit scissors that only a small breed of goblin can operate.”

Erin tried not to laugh, but the huffy look on Abby’s face made her shake her head and chuckle.

“Patience,” said Erin. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

“I hope,” said Abby.

“You doing anything?”

“Just research. And maybe a nap. Definite on the nap.”

“Exhaustion is really settling back in, isn’t it?”

Abby made a face.

“Go take a nap and rest,” said Erin.

“I feel like I should be doing something,” sighed Abby.

“You are. You’re carrying a baby to full term and the both of you need to get lots of rest before March.”

“You’re sounding worse than Holtz,” Abby said, shaking her head.

“Your wife has a point,” said Erin. She rubbed Abby’s back. “Rest.”

“Tell your niece or nephew to stop kicking me in my sleep.”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do about that,” said Erin. She grinned and hugged Abby’s shoulders. “You’re the one who wanted to get pregnant.”

“You can stop saying that at any time,” scoffed Abby, burying herself in Erin’s hug.

“My paperwork came in.” Abby took a sharp intake of breath. She didn’t even have to ask what paperwork.

“Filled it out?”

“All I have to do is mail it back in.”

“And Da--”

“Still haven’t heard from him except for a couple of texts.”

Abby pulled Erin into a hug this time. <– Prev | Next –>  

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