#like w how Peter behaves this is the only way they could have hit it off the way they did

[foolsocracy]

Robbie

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 7 - Final)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Summary ─ A couple of months after Jake’s (Evan’s friend) tragic accident left him fighting for his life in intensive care, Evan is spiralling, lost in despair, a shadow of his former self. Just as a sliver of good news about his condition offers a ray of hope, Y/N steps in, determined to bring some light into Evan’s shattered world. She starts with a seductive dance and builds to a night of passion. But Evan has a surprise—one that will change everything in a way Y/N never saw coming.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, lap dance, oral (both receiving), overstimulation, mild daddy kink, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cowgirl, missionary, extra smutty—like you like it.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5 | Read Part 6

Word count ─ 5.1K (I had a lot to say 🤫)

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Previously on: How I met Evan Peters (Part 6)

“W-what’s up, Jeremy?” he stutters, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s Jake,” Jeremy blurts out, his expression twisting into one of anguish. “He’s fallen off the roof.” Jeremy’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the colour draining from Evan’s face. The room goes deathly quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. The room spins as everything comes to a screeching halt.

Two months after Jake’s accident 

Thursday, 16:42 pm 

You settle into the cosy corner of his New York apartment, the city’s hustle muffled by the soft hum of the radiator. A rustic wooden desk hosting your work setup and a quirky lamp, which has seen better days but adds to the character, stands against the wall. A plush bean bag chair invites you to sink in while a baroque rug sprawls beneath your feet, and a bookshelf stuffed with books and random knick-knacks lurks by your side. Sunlight streams through light, breezy curtains, making it a perfect workspace for your remote routine. With Evan busy with press and meetings for the next few weeks, this place feels almost like a retreat—if only you could shake off the looming frustration of the Excel table before you.

You’d think by now you’d have mastered the art of not losing your shit at work, being the corporate girlie you are, while dealing with this stupid spreadsheet, but nope. Here you are, puffing like the Big Bad Wolf trying to blow down formulas that refuse to behave.

As you’re fighting and suffering through, your hand drifts toward your phone. You know how it goes. Brain’s fried, and next thing you know, you’re aimlessly scrolling through the endless pit of Instagram reels without even realising it. Well, this time it’s Evan’s name glowing like a beacon of your favourite “distraction,” and your stomach flutters, your heart racing.

Oh, hello, messages!

You open the chat, expecting a quick “I’ll be back in 10’, baby. Can’t wait to kiss you” text or maybe a meme about cats judging people (you know, standard fare). Instead, what do you find? A picture. But not just any picture. Oh no, this man, YOUR man, is standing there in a white tee, his pose giving swagger “yo” next to Todd McFarlane, a comic book legend. The whole shebang.

And here comes the string of messages:

“Babyyyy, look - Todd McFarlane in da house for the press conference!!” 

“he’s signed the Amazing Spider-Man hardcopy!!” 

“ill bring it home and we frame it ;)” 

“we’re going live.. tune in xx” 

“changed into the blazer and stripy tee you picked for me. Love you so ♥️”

Let’s pause here. Not at Todd McFarlane – who, mind you, is hands-down a god in his domain, but no. Your eyes, traitors that they are, keep sliding back to that picture of Evan.

Because damn.

Todd’s cool and all, but Evan in that white tee and messy curls? Where do you even begin? The man looks like he rolled out of bed straight into a photoshoot and decided to smoulder for no apparent reason. You know the one—that half-cocked sly smile that screams, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing to do, and you’re welcome.”

You catch yourself zooming in and drooling over him like a total goofball. The scrunched-up grimace. The luscious Tarzan hair. The way his eyes carry a hint of sadness and fatigue but with residues of that familiar spark he always has. It’s weird how something as simple as a picture can make your heart do that silly backflip thing over and over again after more than a year with him. 

Snap out of it, girl. Spreadsheet’s waiting. But no, instead of getting back to formulas, your brain takes a little detour down Memory Lane. Suddenly, you’re remembering the last time Evan was kneeling in front of you. Not in some adorable, “let me tie your shoes, princess” way, but more of an arousing “let me worship you, queen,” Roman Empire situation.

Oh, yeah. That night. 

You’d seized your throne aka that big armchair in the middle of the dimly-lit living room. And there he was, on his knees, completely surrendered to you. His tongue was lapping on your wet folds like you were the sweetest cake frosting he’d ever tasted. His slender fingers were plumping in and out of you in all the right spots as he slurped up your syrups and juices, sucking on your clit like it’s cherry on dessert.

His tongue would thrash and french kiss your puffy sobbing walls up near the throbbing bulb of your sensitive clit. You tugged on his hair, his brown curls wrapped around your fingers like reins as he pulled you apart, inch by inch. Your jaw tightened as his tongue and fingers mercilessly rutted into you, giving you crazed whiplash as you squirt, all while licking you clean with eager choked moans. 

Your body tremors and orgasmic vibrations were seismic… just like they are now as your cunt pulsates and aches for him, even though you’re sitting at the dining table, fully clothed and miles away from him. 

Funny how memories can sneak up on you like that, isn’t it?

But here’s the kicker. As much as you’d love for a repeat performance, that’s not where you guys are at these days. Not since Jake fell off the roof at the party he hosted at his place. You get it–one of Evan’s best friends is in a hospital bed, clinging to life while in a coma, and Evan’s drowning in his own sea of emotions and sorrow. The man is dragging so much weight on his shoulders right now. 

And you respect that. You really do. Your sex life has justifiably taken a backseat, but you’re not here to push or force him. What you have and share with him isn’t mere lust; you love him, and you acknowledge that he’s having it rough at the moment. You’ve been trying to be his rock, the one who keeps him grounded while he navigates the heavy blizzard of the tragedy. 

But you can’t help it. 

Sometimes, your mind slips back to those sizzling moments where your bodies speak in a language only you two comprehend. Because, let’s be real—he might be wearing the blazer you chose for him in the morning, but under all that fabric, you’re the one who gets to undress the real Evan. And if that’s not worth waiting for, you don’t know what is.

You sigh, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, but you’ve left the spreadsheets and work far behind with all those cheeky little fantasies that gnaw on your brain. Still knee-deep in wet daydreams of Evan and his—well, *coughing* talents, when the universe decides to slap you in the face with reality. 

That “we’re going live, tune in xx” text blinks back at you from the chat, practically yelling to stop fantasising and actually be the supportive girlfriend you claim to be. 

Gasp.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Gasp again.

The press conference! You need to watch it. Like, now. 

You scramble up from the table so fast, you’d think the chair is lava, and launch into a desperate hunt for the TV remote. The remote is like a cryptid—always hiding in the most inconvenient places at the worst times. Last week? In the fridge. Don’t ask. Today? Who knows. You’re flipping couch cushions like you’re on an archaeological dig.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelp, your high-pitched voice bouncing off the walls like you’re a banshee in panic mode. Female rage core.

Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. It’s like the remote’s decided to pack its bags and set off to Narnia with no return ticket.

Curse you, technology masterminds.

Plan B. 

You rush back to your laptop, slide your fingers along the trackpad to wake it up, and—oh no, what’s this? Your whole screen’s been hijacked by the most evil of phrases:

Software Update: 30% Complete.

Are. You. For. Real. 

You stare at the loading bar like you can will it to go faster. Or pretend you’re not watching, so it speeds up. Smart but nah, that’s placebo—no such luck. This thing is moving slower than a Monday morning during rush hours, and if you wait for it, you’ll be watching Evan’s interview in the past tense or through his narration once he’s back home. 

You let out a huff that could probably power a small wind turbine and whip out your phone, praying to every deity that your Wi-Fi doesn’t fail you amidst crisis. 

“Come on, come on,” you mutter through gritted teeth, frantically tapping apps like your fingers are on caffeine overload. And just when you think someone is playing another cruel trick on you—boom, there it is. The live stream. 

The screen lights up, and there comes baby Evan on stage, looking all sleek and profesh in his blazer (you knew the combo with the stripes underneath would work wonders *proud stylist smiling*). He’s sitting on a stool along with his co-stars, all of them gathered in this massive amphitheatre for their upcoming movie press tour. 

He’s got the mic in his hand, finishing up a sentence with that smooth, husky tone. You know, that voice that sounds like a lullaby wrapped in velvet. But there’s also the twist of dorky humour and the cute brow furrows he taps into when he’s either totally in his element or way too awkward. 

The interviewer gives him a nod, then sighs. Your stomach drops.

The next question is about Jake, as he’s guy well known for scripting some of the most beloved TV shows. If there were a Hall of Fame for TV writers, his star would be as big as a small planet. He’s adored by fandoms for his wit and creativity, and now you’re all grappling with the fallout from his misfortune.

You can see the shift in Evan’s face from media charm to something… darker, melancholic. He’s trying so hard to stay composed, but you know him. That tiny flicker of anguish behind his eyes filters through the cracks.

Evan takes a sharp breath and clears his throat. “Yeah, Jake was moved from LA and remains in ICU here in New York,” he admits, voice steady but edged with quiet vulnerability. “But there’s… a... there’s a glimmer of hope. He moved his hand today.”

For a second, the world stops spinning. Did he just say—? He moved?!

Your heart does a somersault, and you can’t help it—you cheer and clap right along with the audience, even though you’re alone in the living room in your mismatched socks, overstretched yoga shorts, and messy bun. Who cares, honestly? Jake moved his hand. 

Evan lets the crowd’s enthusiasm bubble up for a second before he delicately taming it. “It’s good news,” he continues, his voice like a fuzzy blanket, soothing yet cautious. “But let’s not start planning the parade just yet—there’s a long road ahead for him. We’ll have to see how his health evolves from here. I just wanted to share this little nugget of hope. His family’s already spreading the word, and they gave me the green light to pass it on to all of you.”

There’s a tightness in his voice, and you can tell he’s got a fortress built around his emotions, probably fighting not to let it crumble in front of all those people and cameras. Your baby’s always been strong like steel this way, the type who carries everyone’s baggage on his shoulders without ever letting on how heavy it is. 

You sit there, phone in hand, staring at his face on the screen. There’s so much going on behind those eyes, and you know he probably feels like crap underneath that calm exterior. 

You wish you could reach through the screen and just be there with him in a “I’ve got you, you’re not alone” kind of way. You’ve been weathering this storm together, and it’s been tough as hell. It’s taken everything in him just to stay afloat, but he’s doing it. He’s really doing it...

There’s something about post-work Thursdays that sends you into this frantic, impulsive must-clean-everything-in-sight mode. Not that Evan cares if there’s a pile of laundry in the corner or if the dishes are threatening to stage a rebellion in the sink, but still. He doesn’t expect you to tackle it all just because you’re working fully from home; he can do it himself, but you want the place to look neat and tidy. You know, like “I have my life together and didn’t just spend the last two hours binge-watching cooking videos on YouTube” level of very demure, very mindful adulthood.

So here you are, in full-on cleaning tornado mode—scrubbing the counter with the kind of intensity that could probably burn calories—when your ears perk at the rustling sound. 

That magical jingle of keys. The ignition. The click of the door unlocking.

Baby Evan’s home.

You drop the sponge like it’s on fire and just bolt. You don’t even think. It’s pure instinct, like you’re a puppy who heard the treat jar open. Your pulse leaps, your feet fly, and before you know it, you’re flinging the front door open just as he steps in. And there he is.

Your man. Your whole heart.

He’s got his arms full—takeout bags in one hand, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking more mouth-watering than anything that could possibly be in those containers. His hair’s a little ruffled, his shirt rumpled from the day, but to you, he might as well be walking straight out of a rom-com.

“EVIEEEE!” you squeal, pouncing at him with the enthusiasm of a kid on a sugar high.

“Whoa!” he chuckles heartily, catching you mid-air. He spins you around even though you can sense the stiffness in his body as he battles not to drop the dinner. He’s out of breath, but he holds you tight, like he’s afraid to let go. His backpack slides down his arm, and for a second, you’re just tangled together—glued around him, his hands grasping on you firmly.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” he teases, his voice hoarse from the long day. But you can see it in his eyes—he’s just as hyped to be back in your little cocoon as you are. 

“You have no idea,” you breathe, and before you can utter anything else, his lips are on yours, kissing you like he’s been starved for weeks. You’re pretty sure you hear the bags crinkle between you two, but whatever… they can wait.

It’s not just a kiss. Oh no, this is the you-just-got-kissed-senseless kind that says, “I’m never letting you out of my reach again.” It’s deep and sloppy, and you feel it all the way down your toes. Little lewd moans escape your bodies as your tongues greet each other, swirling around in a lustful dance. He tastes like toffee, baby powder, warmth, comfort, and home.

You melt into each other, completely forgetting about the bags or the fact that you’ve still got soap on your hands. You twirl faster together as his hands mischievously squeeze your ass, making you giggle into his mouth.

“I was counting the hours to get to you, Y/N, and time was a total bitch today,” he grumbles, and it’s a husky purr near the nape of your neck. Your plump lips curl into an “awh, my poor baby” pout, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you swarm his face with little pecks. 

When he finally sets you down, you’re both grinning like idiots. Your heart’s doing cartwheels, and your stomach feels like you’ve swallowed a whole bunch of butterflies. You missed him. Not just having him around, but all the little things tied in—his laugh, his hands on you, the way he stares at you like you’re a precious gem.

Closing the door behind you, you pace together towards the kitchen, and get the itch to drop the question, “Did Jake really move?” Your voice is hopeful, but there’s a little tinge of fear there too. You know how much this means to Evan, so you need to tread about cautiously.

He pauses, chucking his backpack aside before turning to you. His eyes soften, and he nods, stepping closer. His hands find your waist again, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Yeah. He really did.”

Before you can even process the relief, Evan’s lips are on yours again, soft whimpers rolling off him. This time, the kiss is slower, more tender like silky ribbons on your mouth. His lips trail from your mouth down to your neck, his breath tingly against your heated skin. “Gosh, how much I needed you today,” he whispers between kisses, his voice dense with emotion as he presses his mouth lower, toward the neckline of your sports bra. His fingers gently graze your sides and rest on your hip bones before massaging your ass, and your breath hitches.

You thread your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension melt out of him as his body leans into yours. “Me too,” you huff out, because honestly, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath all day, just waiting for him to come home.

But then you pull away slightly, the thought of Jake scratching the back of your mind. “Can we go see him now?”

Evan sighs, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, his breath warm and steady. “Not tonight,” he exhales, taking a couple of steps back. “It’s just family. They wanna keep it low with the visits.”

You shake your head in acknowledgment, nervously biting your fingernail. You get it—you really do—but there’s still that little sting of disappointment tugging at your chest. “How ‘bout tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, glancing over at you again as he tears the bags apart and unpacks the food. “We’ll try tomorrow afternoon. His family’s still adjusting, but I’ll talk to them.”

The relief that washes over you is like a pleasant, summer breeze, calming your frayed nerves. Tomorrow. You let out a breathy, “Okay, great,” your shoulders finally loosening. As you approach him to help dispose of the bags, Evan’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist in one quick, playful motion, pulling you flush against him. 

You barely have time to gasp before his lips crash against yours, his tongue barging in your mouth without warning, assaulting yours in tantalising ways that are better left unsaid. You loop your arms around the back of his head and drag him closer, your tits cushioning his shredded chest.

“Don’t leave, please,” he hushes, his lips caressing yours. His voice is huskier now, a bit rougher around the edges, and you can feel the warmth from his body merging with yours. His free hand slips down to the supple flesh of your waist again, fingers curling just under the hem of your top to tuck underneath.

You smirk against his mouth, tilting your head slightly. “You know, we do live together, sir” you tease, playfully pinching the tip of his nose.

“That’s a reminder in case you forgot,” he quips, nuzzling into the slope of your neck. His broad shoulders are curved over you from behind like a shield, throwing every organ in your body on high alert, your heart drumming violently.

He pulls back, and before you can react, he gives your ass a quick, cheeky smack that makes you jump. Your mouth drops open in surprise, but he just grins smugly, like he’s fully aware of what he’s done, and he’s proud of it.

“Hey!” you whimper, swatting at him, but there’s no denying your pulse thumps fiercely.

“What?” he squeaks sheepishly, throwing his hands up in exasperation, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “You look too good to keep my hands off. Plus, guess who was stuck in my head the whole day. Hint—it’s not the burgers,” he fires back, waggling his eyebrows at you. 

You roll your eyes comically, but your heartbeat is up now. There’s something about the way he’s staring down at you—like he’s hungry, and it’s not just for the takeout. You notice it when he leans in again, this time with a heat that wasn’t there a moment ago. His lips trace a line of open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your fingers twist around his shirt, gripping it, as his hands roam a little lower, tugging you closer until you can feel every ounce of him pressed against you.

“Speaking of burgers, if food’s your love language, then you’re speaking mine fluently,” you chuckle, but the second you catch the look Evan gives you—whoa, buddy. Food’s officially second on his menu. His eyes are a pair of flamed balls, fixed onto you like you’re the main course, dessert, and everything in between—like you’re the most appetising thing in the room.

And, let’s just say, he’s a lot more “warmed up” than usual. His kisses grow deeper, rougher, and the way he’s touching you are the real giveaway… The man’s practically simmering.

And oh, honey, you’re more than pleased to help him get away tonight. So, in your most casual, not-at-all-planned-in-your-head-already way, you decide tonight’s the night to put up a show… Literally. 

You let your hands glide down his chest, feeling every erratic beat of his heart beneath his shirt. “You’ve been through a lot lately,” you murmur softly, your fingers dipping lower until you’re just hovering over his belt buckle, toying with the metal. “How about I pamper you tonight?”

You let your tongue slide over his upper lip, and damn if he doesn’t shudder. His eyes flash with thrill and curiosity—mixed with something darker, more primal. “Oh?” His voice comes out in this sexy rasp like he’s intrigued but still playing along, letting you lead for now.

You bite back a smug grin. Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.

With a playful wink, you step back, making sure to drag your hand across his chest one last time. “Sit tight, big boy,” you purr, backing away with just the right amount of sway in your hips. “This show’s just getting started.”

You saunter down the hallway, feeling his gaze burning a path down your back. You can feel your heart pounding as you head into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. The second it clicks shut, you lean against it for a second to catch your breath. The adrenaline makes your hands quiver a little as you rummage through the drawer.

There it is: that little black number you’ve been saving for a night just like this. 

A lacy, black lingerie piece, sheer in all the right places, hugging curves like it was made for you. You shimmy it on, adjusting the straps, making sure everything’s sitting just so. 

A quick glance in the mirror as you set your hair free from the bun—tousled, sexy-but-effortless vibe, check. The lace hints at more than it conceals, and your lips curl into a slow smile. Oh, yeah, he’s done for. You toss on a silky robe, leaving it untied, the lace peeking through just enough to give him a preview. A little fragrance spritz and a light touch of your lipstick, and you’re sorted.

When you open the door and walk back into the living room, you find him perched on the couch, his eyes snapping to you like magnets, intense and feral, as you come into view. His posture is stiff, knuckles blanched as they grip the cushions like he’s holding on for dear life. His pupils, wide and black with want, devouring the sight of you as if you are something forbidden, yet irresistible.

His gaze lingers, darkening when it catches on the soft peek of skin where your robe parts. He swallows hard, audibly, and when you let the silky fabric slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet, his jaw clenches—hard (hint: and not just his jaw).

The low light of the room encases you as it casts a sensual glow over the room, deepening the shadows and sharpening the tension between you two like a blade.

“F-fuck,” he wheezes, like the breath’s been knocked clean and shallow out of him. He tries to maintain some semblance of self-control, but the sharp despair in his voice betrays him. He sinks deeper into the couch, spreading his legs slightly, shooting you this look that’s pure, unfiltered desire as he drinks you in. 

You want to torture him, enjoying how his gaze rakes over every inch of you, so you slowly strut over to him. Each step is deliberate, your hips swinging in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that’s nothing short of tempting. His composure slips just a little more—a twitch in his jaw, a harsh swallow, the way his chest rises and falls, faster with every second. His eyes flick down to the curves, then back up to your scandalous tits before snapping back to your face.

The heat from his body radiates into yours as you come to a stop, your thighs rubbing against his knees, and his hands instinctively move to grab your waist. But you’re not giving in that easily. “Uh-uh,” you purr, wagging a teasing finger at him, your lips forming a sly smile. 

His fingers freeze, but his eyes burn with frustration as you stretch, purposely slow, letting your ass hover just above his lap. The unmistakable press of his hardness through his jeans sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can’t help but smirk. “I’m in charge tonight, remember?” 

Evan lets out a furious groan, his head falling back defeated against the cushions, hands flexing in silent restraint. The power you hold over him tonight? Oh, it’s delicious, addictive. You throw him one last, seductive glance before turning around, giving him the full view of your barely-there lingerie—delicate straps criss-crossing down your back and framing your ass like a gift he’s dying to unwrap.

You hear as a muttered curse slips past his lips, low and guttural. He’s so close to breaking, and you haven’t even actually started yet. You scroll through your phone’s playlist, cueing up the perfect song for the occasion. The room is soon filled with the slow, sultry beats of Beyoncé’s ‘Dance For You,’ wrapping around both of you like a spell. You start slow, letting the music guide your hips, rolling in hypnotic circles. 

You saunter towards a nearby chair, aka your prop, bending over it as your body flows like liquid heat to the beat. His eyes religiously follow every motion, waiting, his breathing growing heavier like he’s holding on a thread with every flick of your hips, every arch of your spine.

You roam your fingers up my body, teasingly stopping at your hips before dragging them higher, skimming over your breasts. With agonising slowness, you untie your bra, holding his attention and eye contact hostage. The second the lace slips off your body, you toss it in his direction with a devilish grin. He catches it with a hungry grunt, burying his face in the fabric like a man possessed, his smirk turning malicious as he inhales deeply.

“God, you’re killing me,” he groans, eyes exploding with thirst for you. The sight of him, chest heaving, lips slightly parted—oh, it’s so sadistically satisfying. 

You’re gonna make him beg for it. 

Leaning forward, just enough for your bare breasts to graze his chest, you bring your lips up to his ear, hot breath fanning the side of his face, “Good,” voice dripping with a promise for more. You pull back just a fraction, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m just getting started.” 

You circle behind him, and he twists his head, tracking your every move, but you’re not finished (no pun intended).

“Please, Y/N. Come sit on my lap, or my face…just—” His voice breaks, raw and pleading, his body squirming as he shifts, desperate for release. The power thrumming through your veins is out of this world, and you bite your bottom lip knowing you’ve got him right on the edge. 

You start with the lightest touch, dragging your fingers over the hard lines of his shoulders, tracing down the sculpted muscles of his chest, feeling the shudder that runs through him as you slide lower. Your fingers brush over the taut muscles of his thighs.

His stiff length twitches beneath your touch, his growl of desire low and animalistic. His hands stretch again, desperate to reach for you, but you chuckle softly, knowing he’s at your mercy tonight. His usual command is gone, flipped on its head, and that hunger in his eyes tells you he’s loving every second of it.

The music pulses through the room as you circle back around to him. You bend low, your curves on full display, just close enough for him to grab a handful of your ass with an eager groan that rumbles through his chest. He finally pulls you into him, lips attacking your skin, trailing down your spine with feverish kisses as he peels your thong off. His breath brushes against your slit and clit as he descends, his lips so dangerously close it sends your body humming with desire. 

He can smell your fertility; the pheromones emitting from your body intensify his animal instinct to breed. His breathing is erratic now, his body practically vibrating with need to take you, but you still “hold the leash.”

He breaths come out in heavy bursts as he watches you straddle him, knees planted on either side of his hips. You grind down slowly, feeling the friction as you move in slow, sensual circles. His hands latch onto your thighs, his grip harsh and desperate, leaving marks that make your skin tingle. But still, you don’t let him seize control. Not yet.

Leaning in, you pepper steamy kisses along his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your lips, your teeth tracing the sharp edge of his jawline. You tenderly bite at his earlobe, and he growls lowly, his hands spasming with despair to grab you, but even then, you won’t allow him to touch you the way he wants.

“The more you resist, the harder I’ll fuck you,” he warns with a hiss, his voice dark. It’s a threat and a vow all rolled into one that sends a heat pooling between your thighs.

“Perfect,” you retort in a hushed whisper against the shell of his ear, lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth—teasing but not quite giving in. “That’s the idea, baby.” 

You’re serving cunt, and he knows it well.

With a slow, calculated slide, you lower yourself down his body, your hands stripping him of his blazer as you go. You let your hands trace over his thighs and the hardened, erected mound in between. Kneeling between his legs, you lock eyes with him, watching the way his breath stutters, anticipation swirling in the air. Slowly, you unbuckle his belt, your fingers stroking his length just enough to drive him nuts as he lets out a shaky gasp.

You pop the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper with your teeth. The second you free him from the tight confines of denim, his aching cock springs out, pulsing with raw desire for you, the fabric of his boxers barely able to contain him.

You glance up at him again with a smug smile before leaning down, your lips brushing along his head. His hips buck instinctively, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. But you take your time, taunting him with light flicks of your tongue. 

Finally, you wrap your lips around him, licking his sensitive red tip with the end of your tongue. You swirl it around and lap up the shiny little pearls of precum that keep seeping out in his pent-up arousal. “F-fuuuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me blow in a sec,” he grunts out with a hitched voice as you take his whole size in your mouth. 

Your eyes flash up at him, filled with mischief as you take him deeper, your lips stretching to fit his full size. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, your voice on a seductive octave. “I want you to cum hard... fucking hard all over me.”

Your fingers trace the thick vein along the underside of his shaft before squeezing his hardness and pumping with a fast and firm tempo. Your hand works in sync with your mouth as you suck the upper half of his delicious cock, pulling him in and out, each movement making him gasp and buckle uncontrollably.

His head falls back, eyes screwed shut, muscles tensing. Some inaudible drabble slips off him as he thrusts into your mouth. Pools of saliva are pouring out of the edges of your lips, your eyebrows knitted together as you keep gagging at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You push further, your lips tight around him as you meet his gaze once more, your eyes wild with intensity. His fingers weave into your hair, but he doesn’t force you—he doesn’t have to. You’re in the saddle tonight, guiding him closer to his magical release.

Your hand reaches for his, fingers intertwining as your head bobs up and down on him, earning little moans of delight from his chest. He’s a hot mess; trembling under the weight of the pleasure you’re generously giving him as you slide your mouth down his dick, your cheeks hollowed in a blend of sensual sucks and frantic pumps. 

The sound of you gagging, the wet slurp of your lips, and the way you glance up at him so innocently, brow furrowed with effort, has him reeling. “Ahh, yeah, keep going,” he breathes out, biting his bottom lip.

He gets a good yet gentle grasp of your hair, thrusting into your mouth in shallow, desperate strokes, but you maintain control, building him up slowly, methodically. He adores your lips, especially the way they loop around his dick and release these mewling sounds against it.

But now, his whole body is shuddering, his cock jerking inside, and you can feel the tell-tale sign he’s about to bust his load in your mouth. The blood rushes to his dick, draining any sane thought and cell in his brain, leaving him driven only by his primal instinct and craving for climax.

You slide onto his throbbing cock once more, gobbling on it like the insatiable whore you are. He presses your head down and keeps you there for a few seconds. As you detach from his member to draw a breath, his body immediately locks up, his abs contracting, and then—he’s there. 

His head snaps back as he erupts shivering whimpers of your name, painting your face with copious amounts of his thick, white, and deliciously salty cum, his release spilling over your lips. 

You open your mouth, tongue stretched out, catching the last drops as you pump him, milking every ounce of his release. His cum drips down your chin, and you let your fingers swipe off the remnants from your face, licking them off slowly, savouring the taste. Nothing goes to waste as you look up at him, lips wet, cheeks flushed with the aftermath of his orgasm.

“You’re one hungry bitch, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice strained, still shaky from the intensity of his high. He laughs weakly, dragging his thumb across your cheek with a tender caress, though his hard-on still convulses, not quite ready to soften. He winces as he tries to adjust himself, zipping up his jeans with difficulty, but the look of satisfaction on his face is unmistakable.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, licking your lips as you flash him a sly, knowing smirk. His chest rises and falls heavily, his face reddish, eyes droopy, still lost in the haze of afterglow. 

Without wavering your eyes from him, you crawl up and climb to his lap, feeling your pussy drip with every inch of his skin that presses against you. He ogles your naked torso like a dog drooling over the bone. You position yourself just right, his semi-clothed swollen tip nudging against your slippery entrance.

“I am hungry for you, baby,” you purr with a pout as your fingertips draw lazy circles over the ridges of his abs. His eyes darken, filled with a renewed lust as he watches you, licking his lips like a predator eyeing its prey.

Letting out a dark, throaty chuckle, he wastes no time—he hammers his lips against yours, shoving his tongue deep into your mouth and kissing you with reckless abandon. His hands greedily paw at your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them just hard enough to make you moan against his lips. 

The arousal between you is electric as your body grinds against his, the friction sending sparks flying through you both; it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you are about to feel yourself short circuit any minute. 

His hands hook around your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp in pleasure, the sound echoing through the room. You press your lips harder against his with a mewl, tongues tangling.

“Evan,” you hush out between sloppy kisses, barely coherent amidst loud teeth smacking and clashing together. All thanks to his fingers dipping between your legs, teasing your clit with maddening eights as he grins victoriously, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you.

“My slut’s ready for me?” he hums, giving your ass another smack, the sound of flesh against flesh making you quiver with delight. Your hips swerve on his raging boner, the body-against-body friction igniting an ever-powerful spark within you both. To say you’re a ‘mere’ tease for him is an understatement. 

“You’re doing so good, my baby girl,” he gruffs, and his rough, veiny hands glide possessively toward your rocking waist as you begin to rub yourself against his thigh, slowly... teasingly. Every roll of your hips has him biting his lip, his eyes glued to the way your body moves against him.

“You’re in night care, baby boy, remember?” you hush, your voice laced with dominance as you lift your hips, fingers deftly undoing his trousers again. Your hand wraps around his cock, positioning him at your slick slit. Slowly, achingly slow, you sink down onto him, inch by inch. The stretch forces a moaning gasp out of you as your body adjusts to accommodate his size. Fiery electricity surges through you both, and he hisses watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock.

His hands tighten on your hips as you take him deeper, your nails digging into his biceps when he bottoms out, filling you completely. The fullness makes you shudder, your breath leaving you in a jagged burst as his tip presses snugly against your cervix. The deep groan that escapes his throat vibrates through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily, his hips stilling cautiously.

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, languid circles, setting a rhythm that’s equal parts torture and bliss for both. His hands grip you harder, leaving faint red imprints on your flushed flesh, but he doesn’t push or pull—he’s letting you have the upper hand in riding him, his eyes dark and hungry as he admires you, mouth parted. The way he’s looking at you though? Like you’re a goddess descending from the heavens just for him. Oh, that does something to you.

“Look at you, baby. So fucking gorgeous, taking me like that,” he murmurs, pride and desire dripping from every word. A crooked smile is etched on his face hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds as they cling to his cock. Every thrust, every grind, every little whimper from your lips makes his large member throb inside you, stretching you deliciously as you plop up and down on him.

You lean down, sealing your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss, your tongues twirling in a messy dance. It’s all teeth and moans again as he hits that sweet spot deep inside. It’s the type of kiss that makes time stop, like nothing else exists except for the raw, primitive connection between you two. 

His hands trail up your bare back, fingers tangling in your hair, keeping you close as you grind down harder. Your bodies move in sync, perfectly attuned to each other, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you with every movement. His eyes dart down to your bouncing breasts and toned stomach, but you quickly grab his jaw, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “Nu-uh,” you whisper against his lips, your voice tinged with authority. “Eyes on mine, boy.”

He lets off a hearty chuckle, even going so far as to wriggle your ass back against him. “You feel so damn amazing, baby,” he huffs, voice rough with desire, talking over your whiny babbles. He cranes his neck to kiss the edge of your jaw before tenderly nipping at the skin.

Panting heavily, you exhale, “I could do this all night.” Your hips move faster, sliding up and down his thick length, the friction sending bolts of euphoria through you. His breathing grows ragged, and you can feel the tension rising, winding tighter and tighter. You’re so soft—sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. He chokes when your pussy flutters—the way you clamp down on his dick makes his body go slack and his eyes roll back.

He lets out a low groan, barely holding himself together as your walls squeeze around him. “Thaaat’s it, hngh. This pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen, realising the shift in dynamic—he’s reclaimed control, already winning ground, sis. Before you know it, his plumpish tip drills further between each corner of your dripping cunt. Your small sobs amplify as he starts to move beneath you, his hips thrusting up harder, making your entire body quake with each deep pound.

“I love fucking you so much,” he grunts, nearly whining, his head tilting back as his cock jerks inside you.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Evan’s grip tightens on your hips. With one fluid motion, he lifts you off him, his arms hook beneath your thighs. You gasp, caught off guard, your body hanging in his grasp as he stands up, practically growling with primal need.

“You’re mine now,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, sending a bolt of excitement straight down your spine.

Without hesitation, he spins you around, carrying you across the room, your legs instinctively bundling around his waist. You’re in such a sweet, sexual brain fog that it takes you a second to get what’s going on. With one swift movement, he sweeps his arm across the dining table, sending glasses, cutlery, and whatever else is there crashing to the floor in a chaotic symphony of clatters.

“Evan!” You giggle dazedly, hands clasping on his shoulders as he sets you down on the table, the cold wood against your back making you shiver—but not nearly as much as the fire blazing in his eyes.

He leans over you and shushes you with a kiss, his lips brushing against yours as he pushes your legs apart. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You don’t have time to argue—not that you want to. He grabs your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the table, his body wedged firmly between your legs. There’s no remorse in his eyes—just pure, animalistic desire. One hand snakes under your ass, the other glides down your left thigh, lifting it effortlessly over his broad shoulder. The way he leans down and looks at you now, almost in slow motion... gosh. It’s like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed… like nothing else matters but taking you right here, right now, and it sets your entire body on fire.

He wants to smash, and he’ll get it.

The scent of your cunt is intoxicating, stirring every primal instinct inside Evan that he knows he must keep in check. He draws his hips back slowly, only his tip nestling inside you, then jams just once inside you. Your whole body jumps at the impact, your pleading eyes boring deep into his, a breathy hum punched out of you. He pulls back and slams forward again, growling through his teeth. Your pillowy walls are cuddling him, his heavy balls aching to be drained, eager to breed the fertile womb his tip is wedged against.

His hands roam up your thighs, grasping you like he can’t get enough. With each slow, deliberate stroke, he sinks deeper into you, your body arching off the table in response. The sensation of him rutting in and out of your sobbing sex is overwhelming—every movement has your breath hitching, your fingers clutching the edge of the table, desperate for some kind of anchor.

Your orgasm is building again, fast and intense. As the pressure inside you give way to climax, tears cascade down your burning cheeks, your features contorted in ecstasy. 

“E-Evan, I can’t take it! T-too much!”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Say please, baby,” he grits out, his voice low and commanding. His hips thrust into yours harder, making you lose all sense of logic. Your mind is blank, mouth hanging open, unable to form words as the pleasure consumes you.

“P-please,” a pained mewl tumbles out of you, and that single word tips him off the edge. His hips stutter, and with a series of deep thrusts along with a carnal chant of “ah, ah, ah, ah” pouring from his lips, he gushes inside you—creamy gooey ropes of cum dribble into you, not missing at all.

He’s panting heavily, hips jerking involuntarily as he empties himself, filling you to the brim with thick, sticky cum.

His groans of satisfaction blend with your breathy moans as you cling to him, feeling his weight stick against your skin like it’s adhesive. You bite into the soft skin of his neck, muffling your whimpers as he continues to thrust lazily, drawing out every last bit of his orgasm.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and raspy, each word filled with the same raw desire that’s coursing through your veins. “I wanna feel you.”

That’s it—the words, the intensity, the feeling of him completely owning your body, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin—have you on a chokehold. You suck in lungfuls of air as the incoming pangs of orgasmic waves smash over you with impossible force. You can’t hold back the loud moans spilling from your lips, your body arching up and writhing beneath him as you come hard, your walls spasming around his cock.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand gently stroking your cheek, his breath hot against your lips. Your body convulses uncontrollably in his arms as he rides out your climax with you, his cock still throbbing inside your over-sensitive core. 

As you come down, your breaths laboured and uneven, he buries his head to your chest, his mouth warm against your skin as his kisses travel down to your boobs, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. Each subtle touch sends aftershocks of pleasure through you, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

You huff, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “You’re a menace, you know that?” you whisper, still trying to catch your breath. But he’s not done yet. You giggle softly as he moves lower, planting tingly smoochies to your skin, his breath like a warm breeze against your thighs.

“You smell like honey… I wanna taste you,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the soft curve of your inner thigh. His fingers part your sloping folds, spreading you open for him as he watches the glistening cum leak from your swollen pussy. His primitive need to eat you up tests his sense of control. 

His tongue plunges between your labia, stretching them up with a slow and deliberate lick. Your thighs quiver around his head in the aftershocks of your climax, straining moans and semi-shrieks falling from your lips as his tongue dives deeper between your folds. The wet sound of him slurping up the mix of your juices and his cum is obscene, but it only drives you wilder, especially as he mumbles the moto, “Y/N... Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Your fingers lace in his drenched thick, curly brown locks, holding him in place. The untamed animal inside him is finally sated, fed well at the meal between your thighs. His teeth sink ever-so-lightly into the plump pout of your lips, and you can’t stop the desperate little wails flipping from your throat. 

Your eager pussy can’t help but drool. Streams of your slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers. With a rosy flat tongue, he pads and licks you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers in—only to push them right back out. As he re-enters, he pokes against your g-spot again, and again, and again…

That’s all it takes for the sharp twisting coil to snap within you for the second time, and your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp. “Fuck, fuck,” you choke out, your breath coming in hollow bursts as you feel his hushed praises and loving words ghost against your clit. You can’t stay still for the life of you—it’s as if every muscle in your body rips apart once you come into his mouth, your jaw slackened and your eyes widened.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and Evan’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

You’re making a mess out of him, and he’s still eating it up—the dedication. His chin got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your slick running down. With an echoing pop, he slides his fingers off your pussy, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. The shaking from your multiple orgasmic release keeps on, the ringing in your ears never subsiding. 

“Mmph, Y/N. So beautiful,” he cries out, his voice cracking with emotion as he presses a kiss to your swollen, sensitive lips. Your sweet slickness smears against his stubble even more, but he couldn’t care less. All that matters is you, lying there beneath him, glowing with the outcome of your pleasure. 

Evan’s gaze lingers on you for a long moment, his chest still heaving as he melts in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, thoroughly wrecked from the intensity of what just happened. His hand gently strokes your thigh, trailing up and down in soothing circles as the both of you come down from the high together.

Propping your weight on your elbows, you stare down on him, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips. You pull him up for a sloppy, rough kiss. Your fingers pinch on his well-defined jaw as he rests on top of her. You can feel his stiff length press against her stomach, and it feels great. 

You reach up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “You really know how to leave a girl breathless,” you mumble teasingly, though your voice is barely above a whisper, still catching.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek against your palm. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, and you giggle softly, the sound light and airy.

You lay there for a while, the after-sex haze still buzzing through your veins. Evan’s sprawled out on the sofa, shirtless. His hair is all tousled, looking like some kind of model from a cologne ad—except sexier, and definitely more accessible. You watch him, feeling a dopey grin spread across your face. This man… God, this man.

You pull yourself up, snuggling into that familiar blue blanket from the edge of the couch—the one you always steal when it’s movie night, or when you’re feeling cosy after a particularly intense workout (aka “fuck time”).

“You look like a smurf burrito,” Evan quips, his hand lazily draped across his abs as he watches you pace around the room.

You snort, cuddling deeper into the blanket. “Better than looking like a sweaty, shirtless disaster.” You throw him a wink and a brow waggle, but honestly, the view is prime real estate right now. That man should charge admission.

He smirks smugly, running a hand through his messy curls. “Sweaty, shirtless disaster, huh? I was under the impression you were enjoying said disaster inside you just a few minutes ago.”

“Touché,” you giggle as you flop down the sofa, letting your head fall back against the armrest. “But the jury’s still out on whether I enjoyed it or tolerated it.”

“Oh, is that so?” His eyebrow quirks, and that playful gleam you love so much flickers back in his eyes. He leans forward, crawling towards you on the sofa with that predator-like grace, his hands landing on either side of your bundled-up self.

“Maybe.” You bite your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but your heart's already doing flips at the way he’s looking at you. Damn, those eyes.

“Hmm. Well, maybe I should just—” Evan dips down, his lips grazing your ribcage, making you gasp. You wriggle away playfully, pulling the blanket up higher as if it’s some kind of armour.

“Okay, okay! I loved it. Five stars on Yelp, glowing review and a side of fries.” You’re laughing now, barely able to keep up the act.

Evan chuckles triumphantly, that warm, rumbling sound that makes your pulse leap in your throat. “Five stars? Well, that must make me the Michelin Man of love.”

“Please,” you laugh, “the only thing you’re qualifying for is most likely to be found with a pizza slice in hand.”

His grin widens, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Well, speaking of pizza, how about we start planning our wedding menu? I’m thinking pepperoni and extra cheese for the wedding cake. You know, something to make the guests feel like they’re in a pizzeria.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at his ridiculousness. “So, pizza-themed wedding, huh? What are we going to serve? Breadsticks as the bouquet?”

“Absolutely! And the best part? I’ll have a pepperoni ring!” He starts mimicking a ring toss, and you can’t help but crack up.

“Oh wow, my future husband is a real romantic,” you say, shaking your head in mock disbelief.

But then Evan leans in closer, his expression turning serious, and you feel the air shift. “But really, I want to make sure I don’t just slice into this whole ‘life together’ thing. I want to do it right. So, how about we order that wedding cake now because…” He reaches into his pocket, and your heart skips a beat as he pulls out a small velvet box.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion as you sit up. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of prank”

“Well, not exactly a prank. Unless you think proposing is some kind of joke.”

Your heart stops.

“What?” The word barely squeaks out, and you’re pretty sure your brain just exploded. Did he—did he just say proposing?

Evan’s mouth pulls into this soft smile, and before you know it, he’s dropping to one knee on the sofa. “I mean, I’ve got the ring and all that the protocol requires,” he mutters and your eyes bulge, mouth agape. “...and I don’t want to waste another minute from making you my wife!”

Your heart stops.

You leap up from the sofa, shaky hands flying to your mouth, shock flooding your system. The blanket almost slips off, eyes wide and heart pounding like you’re on the world’s most chaotic and steepest rollercoaster. Did he—did he also just say wife? “Are you serious?”

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice a little shaky but full of that Evan confidence that always makes you feel like the only person in the room, “I’ve been through a lot lately. We both have. But the one constant through it all—through the tough days and the good ones, the sleepless nights and the mornings I wake up next to you—is that I want every single day to be with you.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this.

“From the moment I saw you in that club, I never looked away. We started off with a bang, quite literally, but I’ve felt like I’ve known you my whole life and won the love lottery. You’re my jackpot. The reason I smile—even when I feel like I’ve hit every bump on the road. You make even the ordinary feel extraordinary, and I want to make this last forever.”

Your eyes are already welling up, and you try to blink back the tears because oh my God, he’s really doing this. Your pulse hammers so loud you swear he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“So here I am, making it official, ready to take a gamble on the biggest bet of my life. Will you marry me and make me the luckiest man on the planet?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a subtle and stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart throbs so hard, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest.

“You drive me crazy in the best way possible. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, my favourite person to order burgers with. I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh, making you mad, and maybe every now and then... sweeping plates off the table to get to you faster.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling.

“Evan!” you gasp, half-laughing through your tears, remembering the chaos from a few minutes ago.

He chuckles heartily, but there’s something so tender in his expression now. “So, will you do me the honour of marrying me?” He opens the little box, revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen—a simple yet stunning band with a sparkling diamond that seems to catch the soft light of the room just right.

You can’t even form words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, and your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. And then it hits you. Yes.

“Yes!” you shout, your voice breaking with joy as you toss the blanket aside and fling yourself into his arms, knocking him backward onto the sofa. He laughs as you straddle his waist, hugging him tight, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him hard, your heart swelling with so much love it feels like it might burst.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, smiling up at you as you kiss him again, both of you tangled in this beautiful, overwhelming moment.

He slips the ring onto your finger, and you hold your hand up, marvelling at how perfectly it fits—how perfectly it all fits.

And as you both lie there, wrapped up in each other and the ridiculousness of the moment, Evan chuckles. “So, Smurf burrito, looks like you’re stuck with me for life.”

You laugh, smothering his face with smoochies of aggressive cuteness magnitude. “Lucky me. Now... about those burgers? I’m still hungry.”

Evan grins, pulling you closer. “First, how about I show you just how well I can speak your love language?”

“Burgers first, then more disaster sex,” you tease, giggling as he tries to tickle you.

“Deal,” he whispers, stealing another kiss, because honestly, in this moment, you’re the best thing on the menu.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling, @babymazz

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Announcement

This might not be a forever goodbye, and who knows, a spinoff of this series might pop up someday, but this is going to be the final part, y’all. I’ll admit, I sometimes feel like I’m navigating through a tiny room with towering walls in this digital space; like my creative expression is being restricted and policed, and I cannot fully communicate or channel my “writing persona,” if you will, in here. Still, every bit of your love and support has made it worth it. I’ve poured so much into this world, and Evan, well… he’s been an incredible muse through it all. So, thanks a bunch, truly. xx

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Jealous of a Kitten

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! So I was b l o w n away by the response to my last Loki x Reader oneshot, so I thought I'd give writing for him another go! I've had this fic in my drafts since literally last year lmao. If you end up liking it, I'd love a like, reblog, or comment to let me know! And if anyone wants to request something for Loki or any other MCU characters, feel free to send me a message and let me know! As always big thanks to @twentytwohearts for their help reading and helping out with this fic!

Y/N POV:

“Good heavens mortal, haven’t you got anything else to occupy your time besides pestering me?” Loki grumbled affectionately from his place on the sofa. He was reclined comfortably on the couch, back pressed up to my front as he rested in between my bent legs. My hands were tangled within his inky black locks, fingers lazily scratching through his hair as I braided small sections. I grinned widely.  

“Nope!” I replied cheekily, ensuring to overexaggeratedly pop the “p” at the end. “Cap gave me the rest of the day off from training, so you’re blessed with my presence all day, snowball."

The prince sighed melodramatically as he turned a page in the book currently resting on his lap. 

“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a blessing pet” he remarked dryly. His tone was nonchalant, but I could hear the small smile in his words despite his clear efforts to seem passive. 

“Oh please, we both know you love when I ‘annoy’ you." I rolled my eyes with a giggle. Loki merely hummed in response as he continued to read whatever tome had caught his attention this afternoon. Deciding to mess with him a bit, I removed my hands from his now-wavy tresses. 

“Or maybe not?” I pouted, feigning hurt and leaning my chest away from his body. He stilled slightly with his fingers paused mid page turn. His back tensed just a bit, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to decipher whether or not I was serious. Though he only panicked a moment or two, it was enough to make me silently delight in having seemingly tricked the god of mischief. He huffed childishly, his hand grabbing mine quickly and placing it back on his head. 

My smile widened so far at his reaction I was almost fearful it may actually split my face in two. He didn't say anything, but was certain Loki could feel the satisfaction coming off of me in waves. Even though I'd known from the beginning, it was nice to be reminded just how content he was to be entangled with me for the moment. He could pretend all he wanted, but I knew something about the lanky god that most people didn't. 

He was a huge cuddle-bug. 

As stiff and regal as he presented himself most of the time, he never failed to make it known just how much he adored physical contact with me. I'd even go so far as to consider him touch-starved when we'd first met. I mean, it made sense. He was a prince and the only meaningful contact he'd probably experienced came from those that used to help him dress or bathe. The thought of him going for so long -- literally thousands of years -- without the affectionate touch of another living being made me genuinely teary. Once we'd established ourselves as a couple, he instantly became a constant presence at my side. It didn't matter the situation nor the company surrounding us, if he was in the same room as I was he would gravitate towards me. Whether it was a hand resting across the small of my back or fingers linked firmly through mine, he always found some way to initiate some kind of physical touch. I was more than thrilled at his open displays of affection -- even after months of time spent together I still felt the delicious ripples of electricity run through me each time his skin met mine. 

Moments like today's were rare. Days when neither of us had any obligations or work to be done, when we could just spend time with one another. Sweet, domestic slices of life when we could just cuddle close to one another and pretend for a moment that all the struggles of the world were gone. I sighed softly as we lapsed back into comfortable silence, both of us content to simply be in one another's presence. 

But, as always, no peaceful moments around here could last that long. 

Peter came bursting through the door, looking even more flustered than usual. Which, for him, was saying something. He was wearing his suit sans the mask, carrying a giant throw blanket, with his brown curls mussed wildly and eyes desperately searching the room. He spotted Loki and I fairly quickly. A brief look of relief passed over the young boy's features as he rushed over to where we laid.

"Hey guys, uhm I could use some help," he blurted breathlessly once he reached the couch. I chuckled, amused by the poor flustered teen. 

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Loki grumbled from his place between my legs. I didn't need to see his face to know exactly his expression. Clearly he was annoyed to have our peaceful moment interrupted, and I would bet money that he was scowling at Peter as a result. Frowning slightly, I pinched the back of his arm in reprimand. 

"OUCH," he exclaimed dramatically. His arm darted out of my reach, the other hand coming out to rub the sore spot childishly. "What on Earth was that for?"

"Leave him alone snowball, he clearly needs something," I scolded lightly. He huffed once more, settling back into my legs and turning his attention back to his book and grumbling inaudibly. I rolled my eyes. 

Peter's eyes went slightly wider as they darted between Loki and I. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the raven-haired Asgardian when he was actually behaving, and given Loki's current grumpy demeanor he seemed especially on-edge. I smiled brightly, hoping to ease his discomfort. 

"What's up Peter?"

His eyes darted back to mine suddenly, relief overtaking his face at the save.

"So I was just out, ya know like patrolling, and I was helping this old Italian lady. She was carrying all this stuff right -- and I obviously figured I would try to help -- but she didn't speak English. She was like kinda mad at first and she hit me a couple times, cause I think she thought I was trying to rob her, but eventually we got everything sorted and got all her stuff back to her super old car and --" Peter rambled, words slurring together with that inhuman speed that only teenagers could seem to muster. My brows furrowed in confusion and I lifted my hands up like a criminal surrendering. 

"Whoa WHOA Spiderling, take a breath man." I chuckled good-naturedly. The teen's face flushed slightly at my interruption. 

"Sorry. Right. Sorry." he mumbled. "Anyways, so I finally get all her stuff in her car, and she just leaned into me and patted my head. I was gonna swing away, but she handed me this and drove away." 

He gestured to the large blanket in his gloved hands. My brows furrowed. 

"Okayyyyy," I drawled, still confused as to the issue. "And you're mad she gave you an afghan because…?"

His eyes sparked with realization, mouth forming an 'O'. 

"Oh no, no that's not it. I mean that is pretty weird, like why would I need a blanket in the first place. Maybe she thought I looked cold or something, but --"

"Norns, child!" Loki interrupted. He shut his book with a snap, abruptly shifting positions on the couch so he was sitting upright. "Could you perhaps get to the point sometime this century?"

I slapped his arm disapprovingly -- he scowled at me, stubbornly scooting further from me in silent protest. I turned my attention back to Peter with a soft smile. I nodded at the red-faced teen, waving a hand in indication that he should continue. 

"Right. Sorry Mr. Loki. Uhm, so anyways, she gave me this and I don't exactly know what to do with it," he finished. He opened the chunky-knit blanket to reveal the smallest, fuzziest kitten I'd ever seen. The kitten was tiny, no bigger than my fist, fur matted and full of tufts of orange and white hair. As soon as Peter opened the blanket the small kitten blinked it's tiny eyes against the harsh light. Adorable high pitched squeaks came from the teeny cat, who was clearly displeased with the sudden disturbance to it's sleep.

I gasped, my heart practically melting at the sight. I stood suddenly, hands reaching out unconsciously and making grabby motions towards the adorable creature. Peter readily complied, gently transferring the mewling baby over to my awaiting grasp. I cradled the little cat delicately, blanket and all, against my chest and cooed soft, unintelligible words of affection. My hands instantly found a spot behind the kitten's ears and began scratching lightly. The kitten responded positively, nuzzling into my touch readily and purring loudly at the attention. My heart felt like it was positively melting at the sights, sounds, and feel of the small animal in my arms. 

"It's so cute," I gushed, though whether it was to myself or the guys I wasn't even sure. I finally managed to tear my gaze from the cat when I heard a quiet growl come from Loki's direction. 

He was in his same spot on the couch, but I could instantly tell he was annoyed, even without the little grumble. His posture was rigid, hands sitting atop his legs balled into fists, and eyes suddenly dark with anger. Only moments before his face had seemed soft, the sharp planes and angles relaxed as we'd sat together. Now his expression was stony -- the stern mask of irritation he so often wore back with a vengeance. I was momentarily distracted from the small creature in my arms. Twinges of worry and the impulse to comfort him planted low in my belly ran through me at the sight. 

"He is cute," Peter's voice interrupted, clearly oblivious to Loki's abrupt mood shift. "At least I think it's a he? Anyways I can't bring him home, May is allergic to cats and anyways I don't think they're allowed in my building. I was kind of hoping you could watch him for a while?"

"Absolutely n--"

"Of course!"

Loki's head snapped up towards mine as we spoke at the same time, his scowl deepening at my response. I furrowed my brows in confusion, slightly surprised at his aggressive reaction. Peter's eyes bounced from my face to Loki's -- the awkwardness radiating from him as he shifted from foot to foot. 

"Can you not just take it to a shelter or something of that nature?" Loki seethed, glaring at the poor teen. Peter was clearly flustered by the question -- red creeped up his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. 

"Well, see, I tried that! I did, but they told me he's too young for them to take -- cause he's just a baby -- and they can't take him," he stuttered. "Plus, they said they've got too many animals right now, and if he doesn't get adopted soon then they might have to...you know…"

I gasped, instinctively tugging the now-sleeping kitten closer to my chest. Loki shrugged, nonplussed. 

"So?" he questioned. "That is what happens to unneeded animals on this realm, yes?"

My jaw dropped and I frowned disapprovingly at Loki. I knew he could still be, shall we say, difficult at times; though he was definitely on his way to being 'rehabilitated', old habits die hard and he often still struggled with concepts like compassion and kindness. Particularly when it came to anyone or anything that wasn't, well, me. Even still, how someone could look at the tiny creature in my arms without feeling the warm, protective emotions that I did baffled me. 

"We are NOT sending this poor baby to be killed!" I stage whispered the last part, glaring at Loki and cradling the kitten protectively against my chest. "Good lord Loki, just look at him!"

I held the small orange cat down slightly, revealing it's angelic sleeping face to the scowling god. He glanced at the kitten briefly before turning his attention back to me and quirking a brow. 

"I have." he stated plainly, voice laced with poorly concealed contempt. I scowled at him and stuck my tongue out childishly before turning back to Peter. 

"Ignore him Pete, of course we'll take care of him." I reassured the flustered teen. Peter's young face instantly flooded with relief and he mumbled a muffled 'thanks!' as he rushed back out of the room. 

Smiling and chuckling, I turned back towards the couch where Loki still sat. His facial expression remained annoyed and he'd crossed his arms tensely against his chest. I couldn't help but giggle outwardly at his pout; he looked like a child who's toy had been taken away. Though I found his pouty face adorable, I still found it slightly infuriating that it was over the innocent little bundle in my arms. My obvious amusement only caused his scowl to deepen and he scooched over further from me as I sat in my previous spot on the plush couch. 

"Somebody's a bit crabby," I stage whispered to the still sleeping kitten. Loki scoffed. 

"I am not 'crabby' pet," he grumbled. "I simply don't understand your fascination with this little creature.”

I chuckled, the noise hollow and closer to a scoff than anything. I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to the small kitten in my arms. He began to stir lightly, stretching out his tiny limbs and squeaking out the most adorable yawn before turning his attention to Loki and I. His small eyes appraised the two of us with a kind of innocent curiosity. Eventually he deemed us safe enough, and he began to slowly venture out from the confines of his blanket. As he tentatively explored my lap and the small section of couch that separated Loki and I, I felt my face split into a wide smile. Warm, happy feelings blossomed in my chest at the sight of the curious creature. 

"What's your name gonna be, huh?" I cooed to the small, exploring cat. "Are you a Tom or more of a Finn hmmm?"

Loki rolled his eyes, face never leaving his book. 

"How about blot?" he suggested plainly. His tone was even, controlled, and even though his lips didn't quirk up even the slightest bit at his suggestion I was wholly suspicious instantly. Sending a frown his way, I replied quickly. 

"Dare I even ask what that means?" I quipped warily. His eyes flashed momentarily to my face as he shrugged. Even with the briefest glance I could see the tell-tale spark of mischief in his eyes. Rolling my own eyes in exasperation, I turned my attention back towards the small tabby and ran my fingers across his back. 

"Hmm, what else?" I pondered out loud. "How about Tigger? You look a lot like Tigger."

The tiny cat purred louder at my words, curling around my hand as I spoke. Encouraged, I scratched his fur a little harder. 

"You like that huh? Alright, Tigger it is!"

 A quiet scoff came from the other end of the couch. To my utter confusion, Loki was still radiating complete and total annoyance from his place across from me. He sat tensely in the opposite corner of the couch with his boots tucked petulantly beneath him and his body angled as far from mine as gravity would allow. His head was bowed down slightly, his attention seemingly directed back to his book. Despite his best efforts, I could tell that he was only idly paying any attention to the words on the page. Gone was the smooth look of contentment that had graced his beautiful features mere minutes before; his face was once more a cold veil of poorly concealed contempt as he feigned reading. The look, though common to the rest of the world, was troubling to me. It’d taken months, but I thought I’d broken through the raven-haired god’s stony exterior. The sudden return of the stern facial expression caused pangs of concern and sympathy to prod at me from within. I reached a hand out instinctively to grasp his hand in mine, determined to display my silent support. 

Despite his ‘silvertongue’ reputation, Loki often struggled to verbalize feelings of anything other than contempt, rage, or disgust. I’d learned quickly that often he didn’t need me to attempt to discuss anything he wasn’t ready for -- rather it seemed the best way to comfort him in these times was a physical show of my presence and affection. 

This time was no different, and though his head barely moved an inch I could instantly feel the way he calmed under my touch. The muscles in his hand immediately relaxed as he moved to twine his long fingers between mine. His tense expression softened, although only fractionally as he grasped my hand. He turned his attention from his book slowly, deep blue eyes turning to meet my worried gaze. 

"Hey, talk to me snowflake," I demanded softly. "What's going on?"

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but a small mewl cut him off before he could speak. I glanced down and giggled lightly at the sight of the small orange tabby beneath us. The tiny kitten had wandered down the couch and was currently sitting mere inches away from our intertwined hands with a curious look overtaking his small face. Evidently he wasn't quite pleased to have the attention taken from him so quickly, and he reached a paw out tentatively to hover above our hands. Eventually deciding it was safe, the small cat placed a paw over the tops of our hands, eyes darting between Loki and I with a kind of content curiosity that made my heart practically melt. 

Loki, quite obviously did not share these feelings, and withdrew his hand instantly. His face was once more overtaken by a deep scowl as he snapped his book shut and swiftly stood. He turned curtly and exited the room without another word. My eyes followed him as he left, brows furrowed with concern and confusion. Tigger, meanwhile, was clinging to my chest by his tiny claws, his heart beating with an insane speed. He was clearly scared by Loki's sudden moves and general demeanor, and I cooed soft words of comfort to the small creature. My eyes never left the door though, thoughts of interest and concern overtaking my mind as I wondered what exactly had gotten into my raven-haired companion today. 

A few days later

Loki's POV

Sweet giggles filled the halls of the tower as I walked towards Y/N's room. A small smile overtook my features as the sound filtered through my ears. Typically I found midgardians irritating and their laughter grating, but as was almost always the case, Y/N was an exception. Y/N simply radiated happiness at every turn, and over the past weeks the sound of her infectious laugh had become one of my favorite sounds. Her mere presence had the uncanny ability to both calm and excite me at once, and I'd grown progressively more fond of my time spent with her in a way that baffled me and those around us.

In fact, the past few days had proven increasingly difficult for just that reason. Y/N and I had spent less time together as of late -- a fact that saddened and irritated me in near equal parts. For the past few days I’d found myself yearning for more time with my dear mortal, having been separated by the rather irritating presence of a certain small animal. Ever since the young Spiderchild had thrust a stray cat into Y/N's care she had been wholly and utterly enamored with the useless pet. She doted on the feline, which she'd dubbed 'Tigger', and spent nearly all of her time either caring for, amusing, or simply fawning over it. 

It was becoming rather taxing. 

At first, once I had begrudgingly accepted that the cat wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I'd attempted to simply ignore it and go about our time as usual. It was only a day or two before that notion was entirely dismissed. Each time I made such an attempt Tigger had made his presence unmistakably clear. The loathsome, needy thing seemed to share my desire to be near Y/N, and was constantly sitting on or pawing at her. And even the precious few moments in which it wasn't physically touching Y/N it took to mewling and crying until she gave in and picked it up. I hadn’t had a single moment with Y/N in which we were truly alone for days, and I was reaching my breaking point. 

As I finally reached Y/N’s room and entered, the smile that the sound of her laughter had put on my face immediately turned to a scowl. Inside the room was Y/N, beautiful as ever, sitting casually on her bed. The sight, which normally would have filled my stomach with a tiny stir of happiness, was marred with the unwelcomed addition of a certain small kitten. The wretched thing was sitting in between her legs, happily jumping and pawing at the toy she waved above him. She was looking over the stupid pet with such fondness in her eyes -- a look which I'd once thought was reserved only for me. Irritation overtook my senses at the sight, and I couldn’t help the scoff of annoyance that came from me. 

Y/N looked up at the sound, initial confusion turning to excitement as she realized my presence. My own feelings of resentment faded marginally at the sight of her beautiful features lighting up with a smile of genuine happiness at the sight of me. 

"Hiya Snowball!" she greeted me excitedly, rushing up from her place on her bed and striding up to where I stood. She tucked herself into the fold of my arms easily, her head resting comfortably against my chest and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I sighed lightly, my own arms winding around her relatively smaller frame and my face coming to rest against the top of her head.

"Hello my love," I murmured lightly into the crown of her head, placing a sweet kiss in my wake before burying my nose in the soft hairs there. She hummed softly in contentment, and we stayed in this position for some time. It could've been moments, minutes, hours -- I was never quite aware of the passing of time when I was with Y/N like this. I was wholly encased in the safe little bubble that only her presence seemed to create. I was surrounded by her: the unique scent wafting from her hair, the feel of her body melding against mine, and the soft thumping of her heart against my chest that provided the ideal background music for our calm moment together. I was completely entranced by our embrace, all feelings of irritation gone for the moment. 

But only for the moment. 

The sound of tiny cries and the feeling of a small body thumping and winding its way across our ankles broke through the peace we'd established like a freight engine. Y/N's chuckle vibrated low against my chest before she pulled herself out of my arms to peer down at the kitten. Annoyance seared through my body as she detangled herself from me and squatted down to scoop the needy thing into her arms. She stood up once more, cradling the spoiled little creature in her arms and scratching its face with her long slender fingers. 

"Someone wants a hug too, huh?" she cooed playfully to the cat. My frown deepened at her soft tone, the same tone she often spoke to me with -- the small, loving voice that had crooned to me during late nights or early morning moments spent wrapped in one another's embrace. The same tone that never ceased to comfort me or make me feel as if she was possibly the only person to truly love me. The sound that I treasured so dearly was now being directed to a lowly, disgusting animal. It sent a wave of rage through my entire being like a white hot flame. 

"Norns Y/N!" I snapped. "Can we not have a single moment without the presence of this...this animal?"

Her eyes widened as she took in my words, brows practically flying upwards in surprise and hands stilling against Tigger's face. Her wide eyes blinked a few times in complete shock as she surveyed my face carefully. 

"I'm sorry?" she questioned confusedly. I exhaled loudly in irritation, arms coming to rest across my chest in a display of my annoyance. 

"Does it not bother you that we've not spent a moment together, alone, since the creature was forced upon you?" I questioned, tone acidic and face a stone mask of anger. Her brow furrowed deeper in confusion briefly before a wave of understanding flooded her eyes. Expression softening, she set the kitten down lightly onto the floor before crossing the few steps required to reach me once more. Though her eyes held nothing but concern and understanding within the deep Y/E/C irises, her face had the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Well I'd ask if it bothered you snowflake, but it seems that may be redundant at this point," she replied to my earlier question with ease. Her soft hands reached up towards me and wrapped easily around the back of my neck. Almost of their own accord, my own hands found the curve of her waist and held her firmly. In lieu of a response I simply scowled in her direction. She chuckled lightly, and propped herself up on her toes briefly to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before she led me over to her bed and motioned for me to sit. I complied, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, and she ensured we were settled against the head of the mattress before she spoke again. 

"Loki, are you...jealous of Tigger?" she questioned. Her tone was very matter-of-fact, but the ghost of a smirk still lingered on her face. I felt my face flood with heat, and though I'd like to blame the color on anger I was certain she could tell that I was embarrassed. Though she was largely correct, I was struck with the ridiculousness of the statement as I heard it tumble from her lips. Glancing away from her expectant gaze I mumbled out a response, though I wasn't entirely sure what it was. 

Her gentle fingers moved slightly around my head, delicately stroking the skin of my neck and face until her soft palms rested against the sides of my face. She applied the gentlest pressure to my cheek, forcing me to look her in the eyes once more. I reluctantly complied. 

"Because if you are," she continued. "I'm sure I'd have to tell you just how insane that is. Outside of the fact that Tigger is a cat and you are my not-so-human boyfriend, the idea that there's anyone or anything I'd want to spend time with more than you is just completely inaccurate. He's a baby, and he needs a lot of my attention that's all. Since you haven't been coming around much I just assumed you were busy with other things lately -- never once did it cross my mind that I was the reason I hadn't seen you much." 

I felt my furrowed brows relax slightly. Stupid and petty as my feelings may be, I couldn't deny that hearing such reassurances straight from the one person I truly cared for had taken away a considerable amount of unease from my mind. I exhaled a long breath and shifted unconsciously deeper into Y/N's hold.

"Regardless I'm truly, very sorry that I made you think I was choosing something else over you. I would never want to hurt you like that, or make you feel like you aren't the most important person in my life." 

Her worried gaze was still locked firmly on my face as she spoke. Though the majority of my chest was filled with a feeling of relief from her admission, there was a twinge of guilt lurking deep within my stomach. I often forgot just how caring and gentle Y/N could be and this may have been one such occasion. Of course she latched onto the feeble creature -- was that not what she did with me as well? It was simply a part of her nature to care for the weak or disadvantaged. 

I frowned once more as my mind reeled with the realization of my own selfishness. Y/N clearly mistook my expression however, and I could see the guilt in her eyes as she spoke up once more.

"I can ask Peter if there anyway he can watch him for a bit, maybe just give us some time alone. Or maybe --"

"No." I cut her off abruptly once again. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she opened her mouth to reply. My own finger came up to her face fast as lightning to silence what would undoubtedly be more apologies. 

"Dearest, clearly the fault is not on your end in this case," I started, hoping to ease her mind. "We both know I often, shall we say, struggle with expressing my thoughts at times. Of course you wish to care for the kitten, just as you care for everything in your life. I was wrong to assume your affections were completely diverted and for not mentioning my feelings sooner. For both, I am truly sorry."

Her expression softened at my apologies, face relaxing under my hand as I spoke. She smiled a small grin of appreciation before thrusting herself forward and deeper into my arms. I let out a small 'oomf' at the force of her body attaching to mine, but regardless my arms wound their way around her frame and I cradled her to my chest. She sighed in contentment, and we stayed in this position for a few moments before I felt her chuckle against my body. I pulled my head back just enough to give her a questioning look. 

"I'm sorry," she giggled, face alight with mischief and glee. "Did the big, fearsome Loki just say he was sorry?"

However unintentionally I felt my face heat up once more, although this time it wasn't from anger. I rolled my eyes lightly before smirking down at Y/N's smiling face. 

"If I were you, I'd mark this day down in your memory, as it isn't likely to be said again anytime soon," came my dry response. 

I heard Y/N's melodious giggle from where her face was pressed against my body, sending delicious sparks of happiness across my frame. Outside of that, her only response to my statement was nuzzling deeper into my body -- a welcome action that I easily reciprocated. My eyelids closed as we settled ourselves into a comfortable silence, content to simply be in one another's presence. I hummed, utterly at peace with my current position, when I heard a tiny mewl from nearby. 

Opening just one eye, I saw a curious little face near mine. Tigger had evidently decided it was now safe enough to venture close to where Y/N and I laid. He was pawing hesitantly back and forth across my lap, eyes assessing me with tentative curiosity as he made tiny circles around my stomach. I chuckled at the feeling of his impossibly tiny paws kneading my lower belly as he settled into a lying position. Y/N opened her eyes at my amused chuckle and shot me a sheepish grin. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I can take him somewhere else. I think Peter's around, he'd probably watch him for a bit."

I shook my head, placing a small kiss to her forehead and placing a hand on Tigger's ears.

"It's alright love. I meant what I said when I was sorry -- he didn't do anything wrong, he simply wishes to be around you as much as possible. Obviously, that is a trait we both share, and I think I could expend a bit more energy in attempting to bond with Tigger." I answered genuinely. The kitten purred loudly in response, inching his body further up my chest until he was resting just beside Y/N's face. He closed his eyes sleepily, and curled into my body constantly as he slept. 

Y/N grinned widely, her lovely face alight with such genuine love and glee that I was taken aback at her beauty. She placed a sweet kiss to my lips in thanks before returning to her place on my chest. I closed my eyes once more, smile firmly in place as I lied quietly and revelled in the peaceful moment. 

Taglist: @grahoundart

[living-dead-parker]

Ain’t My Fault - P.P

Summary: Requested by @dark-night-sky-99   -   Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do a Peter college x college fem reader based on the song it ain't my fault by Zara larsson where they are at an avengers team night and they are all slightly drunk and the reader forgets she's in a room full off people and acts the song out for Peter.

I took some (some my ass, I took A LOT) liberties and honestly, it’s sort of different and not as detailed where it should be, but I tried. (I didn’t really vibe w the song, I’m sorry!)

Warnings: cussing maybe, implied sexual remarks, and drinking 

Word Count: 1.2k

The drinks were going around and around; some being spilled, some getting chugged, and others babysat. However, as the night progresses, everyone becomes tipsy.

Tony decided that the team hasn't had some time together. Well, Steve planted the idea into Tony's mind, but Tony had been missing a certain Spider-kid. So, he quickly agreed and called for the team to hang out on Saturday night. Thor decided to bring his own Asgardian mead, none of the others wanting to give it a shot after last time.

Tony extended the invitation to you, as he met you a few months ago after hearing about you for over two years. You were quick to accept the invitation, wanting to meet Tony Stark and the Avengers. Peter was nervous, to say the least. He's not sure what to expect of the night. He doesn't know what anyone will say about him, or what they might even say to her in general. They're not always the best around civilians. Don't know how to act right.

Everyone began showing up in the common room at around six, Thor being the last to arrive. You and Peter sit on one of the smaller couches together, you cuddled perfectly into his side. Across the coffee table, on the other small couch, sit Steve, Bucky, and Sam. On the bigger couch sit Rhodey, Tony,  Bruce, Nat, and Thor. Everyone seemed to be into the movie, shushing anyone who dares make any sort of commentary. Once the movie was over, Tony and Steve brought out the drink.

"Y/N, sweetie," Tony speaks up over the room as he stands behind the bar. "How old are you?"

You turn to the older man and hum. "21 in three weeks, but I can be 21 already," you joke. Tony shakes his head but begins to make your drink.

He pours a small amount of Jack Daniels into a cup and then fills it to the brim with Coke. He makes another drink, this one seemingly less strong than the other. He walks over after mixing the drink in and hands one cup to Peter, the stronger one, and the other to you.

"Thank you," both you and Peter speak. Tony turns and goes back to the bar and makes some drinks for everyone else.

Now, you all sit feeling a little buzzed. You'd only had three Jack and Cokes and you could go for a fourth. So, Tony makes you the fourth one. He hands you the drink and takes a seat soon after. As you lean back comfortably, you rest a hand on Peter's thigh and wrap an arm around his arm closest to you. His hand rests on your thigh and he slowly runs his hand up and down affectionately. Everyone could see how affectionate you two were and they really liked seeing Peter so happy with you. A stark contrast to some of his previous girlfriends.

"So, how did you two meet? How did you get together?" Natasha asks as she looks over at you and Peter. You smile, looking over at Peter as he gives you a nod.

"Well, the first time we ever met, he accidentally smacked my ass trying to grab something off the ground. It was so embarrassing, but he apologized and offered to make it up to me because he wanted to prove he wasn't a perv," you begin, causing everyone to laugh hysterically. Peter's cheeks go red as he remembers that. Though nowadays, you don't seem to mind when he does it. "So, he took me to lunch after our class let out. We found out we had four classes together. We decided to kind of stick together, because I only had like one friend there and he had two, but they weren't like close."

"Yeah, so we exchanged numbers and became friends," Peter adds.

"We remained friends for about a good year and started dating a little after I turned 19. We're going for two years in a month!" you say happily. Everyone congratulates you two, loving the story already.

"But how did you get together?" Thor asks. You begin to rack your mind, remembering the day over again.

"Well, one of the buildings in the school is broken down into three areas, and between two of them is this outside garden where they have a fountain and some benches and tons of grass. So we hang out there with our friends, but that day it was just us. We were having a sort of picnic study session for finals and after twenty minutes, he just asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes and here we are."

Everyone seemed so content with the answer, so they left it at that. Everyone turned to their own conversations soon after, leaving you and Peter to yourselves on the couch. You turn slightly and press a kiss to his cheek. However, he sets his drink down on the coffee table and pulls you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours. When the kiss goes on for quite some time, you pull away and playfully glare at Peter.

"Not here, babe." you groan as he pouts. "we can do that later, we're in front of your team."

"Just a kiss," Peter pleads. You roll your eyes, giggling before pulling him in for a peck on the lips. "You're teasing me, baby."

"Hey, behave and you'll get rewarded you horn dog,"

When the two of you turn back around, you notice Tony and Bucky pretending to throw up as they look over at you two. Your cheeks become warmer as you pull out your phone. You don't usually mind PDA, but often times, you weren't too fond of making out in front of people. Kisses longer than 5 seconds and ass-smacking is where you draw the line when around people you don't really know.

As the night progresses, everyone began to scatter around the tower, until it was just you and Peter in the living room. You've had two shots of tequila, five Jack and Cokes in total, and two jello shots. Not drunk, but not buzzed either. Tipsy. Music plays over the speaker, so you and Peter began to dance like idiots. Sam had his fair share of seeing things he did not want to see that night, seeing Peter try to twerk on you only for you to reverse it when he failed.

Now, the song “Ain't My Fault” by Zara Larsson begins to play. As the song starts, you push Peter down onto the couch and you giggle as you remember that you learned the choreography. You insisted on dancing for Peter.

As the song starts, you sort of improvise the dancing, as there's not much dancing at the beginning. Peter watches as you hit the Woah way too many times for it to be funny anymore. But it still is. As the song picks up, you sway your hips with attitude and move your hands much like the women in the music video do. However, as the song continues, you completely forget the dance moves and improvise again.

As you dance, you wind up getting the attention from the team as they watch you do various popular dances that aren't even popular anymore. The whole team watched, way too gone to even comprehend what is going on. They all just watch and laugh as you dance on Peter, writhing around awkwardly while Peter practically cries from laughter. It was all a mess, a hot mess.

Send in asks and requests, come talk to me about anything!!

[zombutt]

Your military based OCs inspire me to want to make one, but I'm nervous about that kind of stuff being inaccurate about facts D: How do you do it?

Hello!!Oh man, thank yoU ❤️. And YES, join the heist!I will put it under read more; since I wanna answer your question best to my ability, a.k.a extensively.

OKAY, SO, to answer your question: I’d gone through the same ordeal and it can be a struggle. I didn’t know much about the military except for the scarce tidbits you can find online, but, there are few ways you can educate yourself in that aspect:First of all, the very basics. What nationality your OC is, where will they serve, what were they like growing up and what made them join, etc; it might seem trivial at first, but trust me, it’s important.What I suggest doing is, if your OC happens to be, say, British, you can search up reputable British authors (preferably former soldiers or SoO) and pick books specifically describing combat maneuvers. Keep in mind, however, that those are largely made up scenarios inspired by real events; still, they provide valuable insight as to how specific groups operate (a bit of a hit or miss that one, but it’s better than nothing).Then there are authors, who, given their broad knowledge and experience, pile it all up and provide you a guide of sorts. Usually, there’s a thorough description of the inner structure, chain of command, the history behind the unit and the reason for its formation, preferred weapons and equipment, the selection process, and so on. I find these to be immeasurably valuable, especially once you are satisfied with your initial draft.Therefore; if you have an idea already in mind, go with it and then search up the bits and pieces of information online before you supplement it with additional literature.If you want to come up with a soldier from the eastern part of Europe, books detailing the Russian army will do for the most part (the post-soviet countries that is; the military structure’s been largely untouched since that period). The writers/titles I can suggest on top of my mind are:Supervivencia - “CCCP Red Army Special Forces Spetsnaz”Viktor Suvorov - “Spetsnaz”Mark Galeotti - “Spetsnaz - Russia’s Special Forces”William H. Burgess - “Inside Spetsnaz: Soviet Special Operations”For British SAS, I’ve found John Wiseman’s “The SAS Survival Handbook” to be of great use (he has a really extensive bibliography for that very purpose tbf)If we’re talking about hired guns, a.k.a Soldiers of Fortune and all corporate manners of mercs, my two hot takes:Peter W. Singer - “The Private Military Industry and Iraq: What have we learned and where to next?”Christop Kinsey - “Corporate Soldiers and International Security, The Rise of Private Military Companies (2006)”The third option, which can be either a very frustrating experience or a goldmine; join forums where retired soldiers and vets offer their fair share of experience.If you do, keep in mind that people who join these are folks aspiring to become recruits one day; so having me prep a thread in there and explain as to why I did was met with various reactions at the time. Few members seemed weirded out, while others were delighted to see I wanted to be precise in my fiction and were very eager to help. I have compiled a massive doc for personal use thanks to’em, and the experience altogether was very satisfying; everyone was super kind and pleasant to deal with. Lastly; I can offer a bit of a small trivia that might help get you started:- There is a cultural gap between East and West, and that, too, affects the military structure and people’s view on it. I find West to be extremely formal, as they treat the army as a separate way of life. It’s a completely different take in the East; the army is actually viewed favorably upon (same applies to Poland, though we’re right in the center we used to be part of the Soviet Union. You could say we have this weird mixture of both mindsets intertwined together). 

Oddly enough, this also seems to affect how the soldiers themselves tend to behave? It’s a weird statement, I know, but I happen to see Russian/Ukrainian/Polish soldiers much more easy-going and open to discuss the cons and pros behind their job. Westerners usually skip the subject altogether or give very vague answers (especially if they’re part SoF)- Not every special force soldier is a black belt.CQC (Close Quarter Combat) adds up to around 25-36 hours per the whole training course, therefore it boils down to pure essentials and bare grind. Soldiers are taught how to tackle down their opponent quickly and efficiently; it’s all about speed. There’s no such thing as self-defense techniques; that’s the kind of unrealistic horseshit you get from Hollywood movies. Additionally, there are no secret techniques regarding hand-to-hand combat. Krav Maga, despite the popular opinion, is not that special. It’s neither good nor bad, but nothing sets it apart. If you happen to get a hold of a SoF, they will admit that the best techniques stem from… MMA.

I’m dead serious; hear me out.MMA, in all fairness, is a system that compiles the best moves of all available techniques out there. A combination of MMA and BJJ (especially the latter) seems to be favored by a wide variety of Western forces due to its effectiveness. As far as you are concerned, you want to tackle your opponent down the moment you see them (speaking strictly of unarmed combat) - render them vulnerable. For some cool trivia; look up the involvement of Gracie Brothers and Delta Force (and the logos for both; Delta Operators and Gracie Jiu-Jitsu School )Keeping that in mind, it’s worth noting that CQC can be referred to combat that takes place at 100 meters or less; so gunfights are in!- Special Operation Forces are very, VERY quirky people! I noticed everyone has this belief that operators tend to be serious, no-nonsense people that fear nothing and no one.Let me tell you, that’s an exaggerated statement. During my time at the forums, I’ve met a handful of people that claimed to be SoF and few even provided actual proof. Regardless, some of them asked me very throughout questions about the nature of my fic (good morning I want to RP a realistic soldier, huge fan thanx) and apologized in advance in case I found all the attention overwhelming. I asked whether or not a trait like that is common amongst their colleagues, to which they replied that it depends on the person more or less, but it’s not an isolated occurrence! Normally you want to figure out your surroundings and adjust well enough, adapt so to speak; if you can learn something new, they’re all in for it - it may come in handy sooner or later. And they really do grasp stuff quick, fuck me.In general, they are polite, quiet and laid back people. There were one or two cases of somewhat “arrogant” fellows I’ve had to deal with, but it was nothing too drastic IMO.- Soldiers who claim to fear nothing and no one. Doesn’t happen; unrealistic af. In fact, there was this one interview, where a Blackwater executive admitted to having turned down so many potential employees exactly because of that. A man who thinks himself fearless is not only delusional but becomes a liability to himself and his own unit. In fact, most recruitment officers are in favor of hiring already married soldiers; these men will always take fewer risks and make for a more compelling fighting force in the end.- Whether an ordinary ground troop or all-out skilled SoF, no man can singlehandedly cause havoc or prevent it. Another Hollywood trope so to speak; one-man army. It simply doesn’t happen. 

-RPing/writing about soldiers includes, besides occasional gunfights, figuring out basic medical terminology and educating yourself about respective procedures for each sustained injury.- SoF soldiers usually excel at two roles; a single special forces operator can be both a remarkable marksman and a field medic.- Humor is essential - it helps elevate pressure in between skirmishes.

- PTSD doesn’t always boil down to sheer anxiety and sleep insomnia. A PTSD can well enough turn into an OCD of sorts; looking out of a window for hours on end despite having no reason to do so, counting your possessions, hoarding objects of no importance. It can be very personal or right at your face- Some individuals find themselves unable to retire early; the bond between them and their unit, the belief of doing something good (or of putting themselves to better use out there) and constant adrenaline rush are too appealing of an option to refuse. IMO it’s completely normal if you consider the following: those people had worked together for a couple of months and under extremely hazardous circumstances. 

Danger brings people together, it’s only natural; all of you want to survive and help one another while doing so, having formed a prior bond.

All in all, everyone’s different and everything can influence your OC’s choices and decisions, hence why I feel having come up with their backstory, such as nationality and alike, shortens the process significantly; you know where to look at and for what.

Hope you’ve found my lil wall of text useful! In case you’re in need of literature for that exact purpose, feel free to shoot me a message!

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (12/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, AO3, and Fanfiction

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

Brigid

Tony Stark was thirty-seven when Rescue was born.

Tony climbed into the car and hit the gas. “Jay?”

“Sir?” the AI asked as they sped away from the hospital.

“Let Tori know Christmas is going to be in Tennessee.”

“Right away.”

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

“Take away everywhere there’s been a Mandarin attack.”

He glanced through the locations and he froze as he saw one that was both unexplained and nerve-wracking.

Rose Hill, Tennessee.

“That?” he said, pointing at it. He listened to J.A.R.V.I.S. explain with a sinking heart.

“Right, change of plans. Set Tori and the kids up with a vacation far from Tennessee.”

“Not feeling up to a trip to The Volunteer State?”

“I think we’ll take a trip on our own. Maybe it’s time to finally take the kids to Disney World.”

“Creating a flight plan for Tennessee. I have messaged Mrs. Keener and rerouted Master Peter’s flight. Should I reroute Dum-E and U as well?”

“Send them to the Tower. They don’t need to be running around an amusement park. They’ll have more fun bothering Bruce. Wait, Peter? Where’s Nebula?”

“Upstairs, helping Ms. Potts pack.”

Tony was stopped from asking more by the doorbell.

He went upstairs to greet his guest, but their conversation was cut short by luggage falling from the second floor.

“Tony, is somebody there?” Pepper called.

“Yeah, it's Maya Hansen.” He looked over to see her giving a laugh as she realized he did remember her. “Old botanist pal that I used to know, barely.” He spotted Nebula following Pepper down the stairs, another set of luggage in her arms and something occurred to him. He leaned over to Maya and whispered, “Please don't tell me that there is a twelve-year-old kid waiting in the car that I've never met.” He really did have enough of those.”

“He's thirteen.”

Tony’s pretty sure his arc reactor stopped working for half a second.

“No, I need your help.”

Thank god. He glanced to the side with a sigh and caught Nebula’s gaze. She sent him a look and he suddenly remembered the cybernetic enhancements her ears had.

“Right, you need to go,” she said, marching up to them. “Mr. Stark is just about to leave. Call the office. I’m sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. can fit you in sometime after he’s back from vacation.”

Maya snorted. “I read the papers. Frankly, I don't think he'll last the week. This can’t wait.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I will be fine,” Tony agreed.

“I'm sorry. With Happy in the hospital, I didn't know we were expecting guests,” Pepper said, coming to his side.

“We weren't.”

“She’s just leaving,” Nebula added.

“Nebula, escort her out please,” Tony said before turning to Pepper. “So there’s been a change of plans.”

“Wait -” Maya called, but Nebula grabbed her arm and forced her along.

“What change?”

“Something’s going on in Tennessee that might be connected to the Mandarin so you guys are going to Disney World.”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Well -”

“Oh no, it’s Christmas. You are not doing this.”

“It won’t take long. I’ll meet you before it’s even time to open presents. Pete’s already on his way and Jay sent a message to Tori. Speaking of which, why is Nebula still here?”

“Because you gave a terrorist our address!”

“That’s exactly why she shouldn’t be here! I can’t protect all of you!”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before!”

“I wasn’t thinking before!”

“Clearly!”

“Pep-”

The world exploded.

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

“Freeze!” Tony looked up at the boy standing in the doorway. “Don’t. Move.”

Tony turned to the boy and the kid lowered his potato gun.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Tony huffed. “You, Tori, and Val should be heading to Florida.”

“Mom’s at the diner finishing her shift. We’re leaving in the morning. Didn’t Jay tell you.”

“Jay’s not feeling too good,” he said, glancing over at the armor.

“Woah, that looks bad,” Harley said, walking up to the armor. “Poor guy. What did dad do to you?”

“The house got blown up. I’m fine by the way.”

“Technically, you’re dead.” Harley tossed him a newspaper. “Be glad Mom didn’t see that.”

“A valid point. Thanks, kid. Where’s Val?”

“Inside with Old Molly from next door. I told her I was spending the night in the workshop. You gonna fix him?” Haley asked, moving the helmet around.

“Of course.”

“You know, if you’d let me work on him and War Machine -”

“It’s Iron Patriot now.” Tony still couldn’t believe he’d let Rhodey talk him into letting them rebrand him. This sends a better message. Yeah, a message that Ellis wanted more of Captain America, but better.

“That's way cooler!” Harley gasped.

“You’re disowned.”

The kid just rolled his eyes and turned back to the armor. “Anyways, I would have added in um… the retro…” he trailed off trying to think of the name.

“Retroreflective panels?” Tony offered.

Harley nodded. “To make him a stealth mode.”

“You want a stealth mode?”

“Cool, right?”

“That's actually a good idea. Maybe I'll build one.”

Harley grabbed the gauntlet and a finger broke off. “Oops.”

“Right, leave your brother alone and go get me a few things.”

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

Pepper was staring out at the destruction, tears in her eyes and Tony’s helmet in her hands, when Nebula’s head shot up.

“What’s -”

She cut off as she heard a beeping coming from the helmet. They shared a look and Pepper slid the helmet on. When the message was over she took it off and turned to Nebula. “Do you know where he is?”

“Rose Hill.”

That surprised Pepper. “Why’d he go there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s worried about Harley, Aunt Victoria, and Valeria. It’s too dangerous to get on a plane though. This Mandarin could shoot us out of the sky. I’ll get us a car.”

Pepper nodded and turned towards the ambulance. “And I’ll get Hansen. I don’t think it’s a coincidence she showed up right now demanding to speak with Tony.”

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

Harley booked it as soon as the bad guy turned to him, but it wasn’t enough and the man caught him.

“Gotcha, brat,” he snarled grabbing his arm. He tugged him closer with a smirk. “Let’s hope you do a better job at persuading Stark to listen. For your sake.”

BLAM!

The man toppled backwards, shoulder smoking from the bright blue blast that had hit it. Harley turned to see his mom standing in the road, the arc-gun Dad had given her in hand.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

The glare she shot him had a wild edge and he flinched back. “I don’t know. I mean first your father sends a poorly hidden warning to get out of town, then everyone was talking about Tony Stark’s demise in the diner.” Somewhere nearby, something exploded and Harley hoped Dad wasn’t near it. “And then there’s that! What do you think I’m doing here? The better question is what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”

“Well -”

There was a crunch behind him and Harley spun around, backing away as the bad guy got onto his feet.

Mom leveled her gun at him. “Come any closer and I shoot you in the head, only warning.”

The man snorted and took a step forward. “Listen here you l-”

Mom shot him in the head and he collapsed.

“I warned him,” she muttered, lowering the gun and turning on Harley. “Talk.”

“I was just…” Harley saw Dad shuffling out of the bar he’d went to before, flipping through a folder. “Dad!”

“Your father’s here?” Mom asked, but he was already running forward.

Dad froze, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“Stark,” Mom growled low enough not to grab attention while she marched straight passed Harley and grabbed Dad’s shirt with one hand, the gun still in the other. “Why is my son out here in the middle of the night nearly getting abducted?”

“Abducted!?” Dad stared at him with wide eyes, scanning for injuries.

“I’m fine. Mom shot the guy.”

“You’re supposed to be on your way home.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Stark, how have you not realized children don’t listen? You have three kids!”

“Seven,” Dad and Harley corrected.

“For the record, J.A.R.V.I.S., U, and Peter are well-behaved children! And Nebula’s never gotten into trouble she couldn’t get herself out of. It’s not my fault Harls apparently takes after Dum-E and Fri.”

“For the record, New York was Peter’s idea,” Harley pointed out before remembering his dad’s freak out last time he brought up the battle. “Wait, I didn’t mean to say New York! Don’t freak out again!”

“Again? What does he mean again?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, looking pale. He put a hand over Harley’s mouth and waved at her with the folder. “I’d just like to point out that none of this would have happened if you were on your way to Florida like you were supposed to be.”

“I’m sorry. Not everyone can just bend to the will of Tony Stark. I know this is a foreign concept to you, but I have a job and I’d like to keep it.”

Fire engine sirens cut through the air and the three turned to look at the nearby burning building.

“I need to go,” Dad said, walking over to the car the bad guy had shown up in.

“We’re not done talking about this!” his mom snapped, pulling Harley out of the road.

“See you in Florida! Kid, keep an eye on you know what!”

They watched him drive off before Mom turned to him. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Let’s start with what you meant by freak out.”

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

When Aldrich Killian forced his way into their room and grabbed Pepper by the neck, Nebula was immediately at his side, gun drawn.

“Drop her.”

He turned a smile on her. “Honey, y-”

She shot him in the chest point-blank and he crashed into the room service cart.

“Pepper, Maya, take cover,” she growled, marching up to him as he pulled himself up.

“Wait, he’s -”

“It’s okay, Nebula can handle him,” Pepper said, cutting Maya off.

“You don’t understand!”

Killian made to knock the gun out of her hand and she let him, using the move to grab his wrist and twist his arm behind his back before pinning him to the wall.

“Give up,” she said as he futilely struggled against her strength.

His response was a smirk before his skin lit up a flickering orange underneath her hand.

She raised an eyebrow as she felt her skin began to melt from the heat coming off his own, but didn’t loosen her grip. “If you insist,” she said and clocked him over the head, dropping him when he fell unconscious.

She turned to the other two women. “We need to leave right now.”

“Your hand,” Maya said and Nebula followed her gaze to see the hologram around her limb flickering, having problems calibrating with the missing skin.

“It’s a prosthetic, hidden with holograms. It’ll be fine. Mr. Stark can patch it up when this is over. Grab your things.”

Pepper went to work, closing up her bags, not minding anything she might leave behind. Nebula followed, but Maya stayed standing where she was, staring at Killian in shock. After a moment, Pepper turned to speak to her, but paused when she saw something.

“Nebula!”

She spun around just in time to see an unfamiliar man tossing a chair at her. She tried to brace herself, but didn’t have time and both her and the chair went crashing through the window she’d been standing in front of.

The next thing she knew, she was lying atop a dented car having lost time. Groaning, she pulled herself free of the car and rolled down to the ground. She hissed when her still-healing leg took her weight, but ignored it and shuffled towards the front of the building.

“Rivera, make sure the girl is dead then join us at the airfield,” someone said over a phone and Nebula slid into the tall bushes next to the wall. “Killian, Potts, and Hansen already went on ahead.”

“Yessir,” a woman answered as she turned the corner.

As soon as the call disconnected, Nebula hooked her arm around the woman’s neck and dragged her into the bushes. She unsheathed her repulsor and let Rivera see it before placing it over her chest. “Are you willing to bet that you can regrow a heart or do you want to tell me where your boss took Pepper?”

The woman began to glow orange and Nebula tightened her grip.

“Nice try. Your boss already figured out that doesn’t work.”

Rivera tilted her head up to glare at her and froze, the light going out. “Wh-what are you?”

Nebula blinked, then she realized her arms were darker than they should be. She dragged the woman closer to her and let her voice become metallic and monotone. “Tell me where she is.”

“Miami! They’re in Miami! The boss has a house there!”

Nebula knocked her out like she’d done Killian then walked back over to the dented car and searched the top for her mask. She slipped it on and pulled out her phone, thankful it had been in her front pocket so hadn’t been crushed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” she said when her sister answered. “Call the police to my location then get me a flight to Miami.”

“On it.”

She hung up then called Peter.

“Nebs! What’s going on? I thought we were going to Harley’s! Why am I in Orlando? Why is no one answering their phones except Fri? She just says there was a change of plans, but won’t tell me anything else! The news is saying dad’s dead! He’s not, right? Please tell me he’s not! I -”

“Peter, calm down. Father’s fine. He’s just dealing with some bad guys. If you’re in Orlando then Harley, Valeria, and Aunt Victoria will be there soon. Just stay in whatever hotel room F.R.I.D.A.Y. or J.A.R.V.I.S. booked for you. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay. You’ll tell me if something bad happens, right?”

“Of course,” she lied.

“Thanks, Nebs.”

“I’ve got to go now,” she said as police cars entered the parking lot. “Be safe and run it by F.R.I.D.A.Y. before you order anything from room service.”

“That was one time!”

She hung up on him and approached the officers.

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

“You should've already been gone.”

“I am just beyond terrified.”

“Here it comes.”

BANG! BANG!

Tony blinked and looked to the upper floor as his guards collapsed. “Nebula? What are you doing here?”

“Saving you, clearly,” she said, vaulting over the banister and landing on the lower floor.

His eye twitched. He knew the drop was nothing for her, but that didn’t make him any less nervous every time she did something like that.

Above them, a window shattered as his gauntlet flew in to wrap around his hand.

“I don’t need you to save me,” he said, pulling himself free. “I was doing that myself.”

“I’m also saving Pepper.”

“I was doing that too. It’s all covered.” His boot flew in and he lifted his foot slightly so it could latch on. “Go home.”

She stared at him for a moment then crossed her arms. “Where’s the rest of your suit?”

He glanced over at the window then crossed his own arms. “It’s coming.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned. “Come on, let’s go find Pepper.”

“And here I counted you among the well-behaved children,” he muttered, following her out.

The rest of the suit joined them as they made their way outside.

“Is that Uncle Rhodey?” Nebula asked, looking up, and Tony followed her gaze to see the Iron Patriot flying away.

“It’s his armor, but I’m guessing it’s not him.”

“I’m going to kill Killian,” Nebula growled. “Can you fly?”

Short answer, he couldn’t.

They were making their way towards the main house when he received a call.

“Tony!”

“Rhodey, tell me that was you in the suit!”

“No. You got yours?”

“Um, mm, kind of. Main house, fast as you can. Somebody I’d like you to meet. Also, I’m handling all your tune-ups from now on. That’s twice the airforce chose crackpots to do your upgrades.”

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

Nebula stared at the ridiculous amount of suits as they began mowing through the Extremis enhanced army before turning to her father. “We are definitely getting you a therapist.”

Uncle Rhodey and Father turned to her in shock.

“What?”

She pointed at him. “You think Aunt Victoria didn’t tell me that Harley saw you have a panic or anxiety attack? And now this? This is not a healthy coping mechanism.”

“It’s not a coping mechanism at all! It’s -”

“An obsession.”

“Tony,” Uncle Rhodey cut in, setting his hand on Father’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s right. You looked pretty bad when -”

“Oh look, my ride’s here,” Father said as a suit landed behind him and started to wrap around him.

“This isn’t over,” Nebula said.

“I’ll have Fri schedule you in for never.”

“Hey, give me a suit too,” Uncle Rhodey called before he could fly off. He tucked his gun into his waistband and held out his arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry. They’re only coded to me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I got you covered.” He shut his faceplate and took off.

A moment later, another suit landed next to them. “Good evening, Colonel. Can I give you a lift?” J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

“Very funny.”

“Would you like a lift as well?” her brother added, turning to Nebula.

“I’ll walk. Please tell me you’re the only one in there.”

“I am.”

“Thank God. We don’t need any more siblings.”

“Indeed.” He shot off with Uncle Rhodey in his arms.

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

When Pepper awoke, her world was orange. Orange and yellow and red. Flames surrounded her and filled her, flickering through her skin in an eerie glow.

“Tony,” she choked out, remembering his face staring down at her with terrified grief.

Shoving aside sheets of metal, she clawed her way out of the flames.

She gasped when she finally made it out and oxygen flooded her lungs. Coughing sent a cloud of smoke and ash out of her mouth until a pain she hadn’t noticed before left her chest.

As she struggled to her feet, she looked around at the destruction surrounding her and swatted embers off the fire-resistant clothing she’d been forced into.

“Tony,” she repeated in a whisper, stumbling forwards.

With every step, she felt her strength returning, so when she finally spotted him sitting on the ground, staring at one of his helmets, she felt stronger than ever.

Then Killian came lurching out of the wreckage in front of him.

The flames that had been licking at her consciousness since she had awakened, threatening to overwhelm her, surged up with her anger. She reached down for a pipe and stomped towards him as he began to monologue for her boyfriend.

She slammed the pipe into his head with enough force to send him flying.

When she came back to herself, she was staring into the face of an explosion, an Iron Man gauntlet on her arm. She could remember everything, but it felt disjointed from her mind.

“Honey?”

She glanced at Tony, then back to the fire. “Oh my God,” she panted heavily, raising her bare hand before dropping it again. “That was really violent.”

She felt the flames licking tamely at her mind and shoved them down as far as they could go.

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

“How are they doing?”

Pepper looked over to see Nebula walking up to her makeshift hospital bed before turning back to where Tony and Bruce were spewing science at each other.

“Judging by their tones, good. Either that or they’re about to blow something up again.”

“They’re like children,” Nebula chuckled before lowering her voice so Bruce couldn’t overhear. “It’s good that Father is finally making friends that can keep up with him, but at what cost?”

Pepper snorted and lowered her own voice. “Speaking of children, how are the boys?”

“Ecstatic. Last I heard, they’re trying to talk Aunt Victoria and Uncle Rhodey into convincing Father that he needs to build an Avengers-themed amusement park. They’ve already got a list of rides for him to make.”

“Don’t let him hear you. He might just take them up on it,” Pepper laughed and Nebula joined her.

“How is your work going?” the young woman asked, sitting next to her on the bed.

“I’ve got a few psychiatrists I’m checking, but Tony’s being…”

“A brat about it?” Nebula suggested.

“He seems to think he can just talk it out with Bruce after they’re all done and that will be enough. I might have agreed, but after what Harley and Rhodey said about his anxiety attacks, on top of everything else, I really think he needs professional help.”

“As smart as Father is, he’s an absolute idiot when it comes to self-care,” Nebula sighed. She glanced at the two men and asked, “So how much of the Extremis are they planning to take out of you?”

“All of it?” Pepper said, confused.

“Pity. You retaining some of the abilities would have been preferred.”

Pepper shook her head and grabbed her tablet. “I have no desire to be a superhero.”

“Who said anything about superheroes?” She gestured towards herself. “I’m stronger and more durable than normal humans, but I’m not jumping to join the Avengers.”

“You spent the invasion knocking people out and then helped the Hulk take down Loki,” Pepper pointed out.

“Helping is a generous way of putting it, and I was just doing my job as security for the tower. I’m not going to join the Captain’s merry band on their missions any time soon. Having some extra strength and durability in your back pocket doesn’t mean you would even have to use it. It would just be good to have in case of an emergency. Like if you get kidnapped. You wouldn’t have to rely on us.”

Pepper studied the young woman for a moment before her eyes went soft and she took her hand. She didn’t say anything, knowing Nebula was as allergic to emotions as her father could be, but she understood that this was Nebula’s way of saying she had been both worried for Pepper and guilty for failing to protect her.

“I’ll think about it,” she allowed after a moment. “Want to help me sort through the psychiatrists in the meantime?”

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

Tony and Pepper watched Peter and Nebula bicker over Mario Kart in the living room of the New York condo they were staying in until the tower’s penthouse was finished. The two were out on the balcony, sharing drinks and enjoying the evening air.

Tony chuckled when Nebula shoved her brother off the couch before turning to Pepper. “You sure about this, Pep? We can still up the dosage.”

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. “For the last time, yes.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Nebula and I talked about it and… Tony, I know you’re not going to give Iron Man up completely. You’re probably never going to give it up.”

“I am Iron Man,” he chuckled nervously. He set his glass down on the railing and pulled her into his arms. “Pepperoni -”

She set her finger on his lips. “It’s okay. It’s a part of you. I’m still not comfortable with you endangering yourself like that, but I understand.” Her arms slid around his neck and she pressed their foreheads together. “If knowing I can protect myself makes that easier on you, makes sure you’re focused on coming home to me at the end of the day, then I can deal with running a little hot.” He got a gleam in his eyes and she narrowed hers. “Don-”

“You’re more than a little hot.”

She shook her head and kissed him, Tony eagerly participating.

“They’re busy Nebs! Why can’t you make it!”

They pulled apart at the shout and turned to see Peter at the door to the balcony.

“Hey! You were supposed to pau-” his voice cut off as he closed the door.

The two chuckled and Pepper kissed his cheek again. “We should probably go separate them before we lose the rental deposit.”

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes,” Tony hummed, tugging her closer and pulling a jewelry box out of his pocket.

She opened it to find a beautiful necklace sitting inside, silver with a heart-shaped garnet pendant that was lined in diamonds and had a small teardrop diamond hanging from the tip. The most noticeable features, though, were the irregularly-shaped pieces of metal embedded into the chain.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, running a finger up the chain.

“It’s from the heart, literally,” Tony chuckled, tapping his chest.

She looked up at him with a frown, then her eyes widened.

He held up his hands. “They were sanitized. Twice. Promise! I can have the chain replaced if you don’t like it. I just -”

She pushed the box into his hands and turned around, pulling up her hair. “Put it on me?”

He beamed and pulled the necklace out. He let his hands linger after draping it around her neck and clasping it.

She slowly turned back to him and they took each other in.

Something crashed loud enough to be heard through the reasonably soundproof door and they both sighed.

In the living room, they could see Nebula glaring at her brother while she held him up by his ankles.

Tony shook his head and opened the door. “Do you two mind? We were having a moment.”

“Twelve percent of a moment?” Peter asked innocently, not at all perturbed about being upside down.

“Who told you about that? Is Jay selling me out again?”

Pepper chuckled as she watched the family bicker and the warmth that filled her chest had nothing to do with the experimental drug in her veins.

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

The Celtic fire goddess Brigid was a triple goddess. She was the Fire of the Hearth, the Fire of the Forge, and the Fire of Inspiration. A goddess of family and fertility, a patron of the crafts and law and order, and a muse and protector of cultural learning.

[ironstrange-is-the-endgame]

Stephen trying to help Tony with his alcoholism

Honestly, I don’t even now. It was supposed to be dark, but not as dark as it is. Anyway, there’s a happy ending because I just couldn’t let it be totally angsty. I hope you’ll like it.

tw warnings: alcohol as a coping mechanism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol withdrawal

The war was won, but Tony knew that he failed, he knew that whatever happened was because of him. He knew that Steve’s death was on him And without Steve, there was no Avengers, it didn’t matter how much he tried to keep them all together. He had never been enough.

Thor left, shortly after and Tony couldn’t blame him because his people still need a home and even if Norway agreed to let them live in a huge island in the Nordic Sea, diplomacy and restoration were in his and Loki’s agendas. Clint retired, once for all, he said. He came back just because his own family went dusted and he needed to find them, but he didn’t want to lose not even one more day in some undercover mission for SHIELD or the likes.

Tony could understand him. And then there were Nat and Bruce.

The Russian spy was the only person who still lived at the Compound, but she went back on SHIELD paycheck and she was more abroad than she was in the US. Tony suspected that she blamed him for Steve. He couldn’t pretend she wasn’t right. He blamed himself as well.

And then there was Bruce. After the final battle when the good doctor forced the Hulk out of him, the big-guy Bannered his friend, and honestly nobody had an idea of why, but the harsh transformation forced the doctor into a coma. And that, on top of everything, was Tony’s fault.

He tried to put together the New Avengers initiative, and when it worked even better than he could guess — Carol was indeed a great leader, she and Rhodey being the ultimate power couple, Peter and Harley worked more than perfectly together and Vision and Wanda were something already tested out on the field — Tony found himself alone, in an empty house. And he went back to every mistake he made once he was younger.

“Boss,” Friday told him, while Tony was still in the workshop, trying to improve Harley’s suit with something at which he hadn’t thought yet. “Ms Romanoff is coming back at the Compound.”

“Great!” Tony said, and the irony sounded weak also in his voice. He ran a hand between his hair and took another sip of the whiskey he didn’t even realize he was drinking it. Not that it mattered. A few moments later, the glass was empty and he rapidly filled it again, before walking upstairs once that his AI communicated him the spy has arrived.

Natasha looked trashed, and Tony knew which was the reason. They just had different copy mechanisms, at the end of the day. They spoke for some minutes, and when she said she was going to sleep, Tony decided to follow her example. He wasn’t going to do nothing in the workshop anyway.

–

He had no idea how long had passed since the conversation he had with Natasha, the woman left a couple of days later while Tony was in a particularly productive strike of five days straight in the workshop with the only company of some empty bottles and a muted Friday when the doors of the lab swung open.

Tony rose his eyes on the person who walked inside. The two other people who had authorisations for the lab where Rhodey and Peter, though Tony cut his best friend out after the one time when he tried to throw away Tony’s whiskey. He didn’t have a problem with drinking. It was the only thing that was keeping him together if you asked the genius.

The last person he was waiting to see walking through the windowed door, though, was the one who was now standing there, casual clothes and blurred sharp face, and the loyal piece of outerwear as well. Stephen Strange was the last person Tony had ever expected to walk into his workshop and his entire life.

They got together, short after Thanos’s defeat, then - Tony had no idea of what happened, but it was sure it was because of him. He must have said or done something that was too much for the wizard to bear and he walked away, saying that he loved him, but he wasn’t in the right place for a relationship or something as dumb as that, for what Tony could remember. It wasn’t like his memories were so good anymore, especially when he tried to numb the majority of those.

The former surgeon was helping them with Bruce, using his contacts to finds the best treatments and facilities, but if that was a dead end, he never said it out loud. Tony had given up to hopes a long time before, and that was the last conversation they had. Stephen was really trying to help him, back then, and he refused him, telling that Banner was as good as dead and he didn’t want to cry for another friend. That had been a couple of months before and the last time Tony had been sober, probably.

“What happened?” He asked, going back to his blueprints. He didn’t like what he saw scribbled on those, but it was better than looking at the man icy eyes. “Is Bruce…? There is any news?”

“Banner is stable,” Stephen said. There was something off in his voice, but Tony couldn’t say what it was and he didn’t even care. He loved the man, probably he was still in love with him, but he also knew that he was a burden. That was the only reason why everyone gave up on him. “I’m not here for him.”

“Good, Natasha is upstairs, if you are looking for her,” Was the only answer Tony gave him. He didn’t even know what reaction he was hoping to receive from Stephen, but the last thing he was waiting for was for the man to move his hand, and making his glass shifting to the end of the workbench he was working at. Out of pure instinct, Tony moved to catch the glass before it was out of his grip.

“I’m not here for Nat either, Tony,” And fuck, someone should have forbidden Strange to use his first name because that brought him back to a lot of moments he was desperately trying to forget. “I want to speak with you. Can we seat somewhere?”

Tony pointed at a sofa Rhodey had him move down there in hopes that he would catch more sleep every now and then. It went unsaid that it was a vain hope. “You can speak, though I’m not sure I’ll be listening to you.”

The wizard huffed but took his place on the couch, and Tony went back to his work. He wasn’t planning to pay attention to the other man’s words, but when he started to speak it was difficult for him to call Stephen’s bullshit out. “I’m worried for your wellbeing, Tony, everyone is…”

“Yeah, sure, everyone,” He interrupted, irony filling his voice. “You are a terrible liar, Strange. Everyone, whoever they are, is probably worried because I cut founds. Is not like I’m something more than a walking bank.”

“You are more than that, and you know it,” Stephen said, again. And if Tony knew the man well enough, the only thing he wanted to do was to cross the distance between them and touch him. Or maybe he was just projecting. Not that it was important. He couldn’t do it and the only other thing he can do was saying something that would have pushed away the Sorcerer Supreme for good. And in there was nobody better in doing that than the one Tony Stark.

“It’s difficult to believe when it comes from someone who used my as his sugar daddy and then decided the money wasn’t worth the luggage I come with.” And he saw, all over Strange’s face, that he hit close from home. The man stood, Cloakie followed him and looked as it was moping, and walked out the workshop, turning once he reached the door.

He looked like he was going to say something, but then he walked out without a word. The moment Stark reached again his glass, the golden sparkles of a portal were already gone in the thin air. Tony looked at the half-empty Glen McKenna’s bottle and decided it was good time to go back to work, between one sip of the whisky and the following.

–

Stephen knew it was his fault as well as he knew that he shouldn’t have walked away. But the truth was that he wasn’t the right person to do that, while probably the only one. He was still feeling guilty enough for having broken up with Tony, but now knowing that he thought that the only reason why Stephen was with him was that of his money turned things under a different perspective.

Stephen looked at his shaking hands and reminded how he felt when he woke up in a hospital bed, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to perform a surgery in his entire life. Operation after operation, despair was the only thing that was left to him. Despair and alcohol. So yes, Strange knew what Tony was going through and knew that until he would ask for help there was nothing they could do. But he couldn’t either leave the man he loved destroy himself.

He just knew that he wasn’t in any place for a relationship and that Tony’s state would have brought him only to be dependant to Stephen. And he wasn’t stable enough to be the person Stark deserved in his life. He had to make a call, and he did the wrong one.

Stephen took his mobile, his long and scarred fingers lingering over Christine’s number. She knew what was better, she was, probably, the only person who could help him in that moment, because, and Stephen realized that only in that moment, he behaved exactly the same with his best friend, when he was in Tony’s shoes.

But, in that moment, the screen flashed with an incoming call from the one Black Widow. Stephen and Nat were somehow friends, despite them being usually closed up and distant from the other people (or maybe because of that), they both cared about Tony and since the genius started to push anyone away, including Peter and Harley (and both kids were blaming themselves even if in different ways) they were the only ones who were still looking after him considering that, in the end, even Rhodey gave up. (“It’s not the first time I deal with this,” The Colonel said to Stephen. “It’s terrible, but with Tony is the only way.” He simply couldn’t, though, and, apparently, Nat neither.)

“What’s wrong?” He asked, because the only reason why Natasha would have called him was that something was wrong.

“It’s Tony,” The woman sounded agitated over the chattering at the other side of the line. Stephen could hear Friday, Rhodey and someone else. His hand shook worse than ever and Stephen could feel how his how voice was more trembling when he spoke.

“What happened?” He didn’t know what answer he was hoping for.

“I don’t know. Pete and I walked into the workshop, and he was on the floor,” She said, and everyone else wouldn’t have recognized the worrying in the spy’s voice, but Stephen did. “I had Friday run some scans on him, but it’s better if…”

“I’m coming,” It was because of him, Stephen knew that. It was because he left, because he didn’t want to answer to Tony, didn’t want to hurt him, both with a sharp reply or giving him hope. He loved the man, and just because he loved him, he knew he wasn’t the right person for him. And whatever Tony did, it was because of him, probably.

He rose from his kitchen chair and fretted to open a portal to the Compound.

It took a total of half on an hour to have Tony moved in his room, and Friday’s scans to come back with the answer Stephen was expecting for. Tony’s unconsciousness was from a too much high level of concentration of alcohol in his blood and it required another couple of minutes to have from the Avengers medical personal the green light for some IV. Tony was highly dehydrated and probably had been suffering of recurring migraines in the past weeks or so. And Stephen didn’t notice. He just saw how Stark kept drinking and drinking without paying attention at the fact that was probably going to drink himself until he could numb all his thoughts.

Stephen should have noticed it. He should have known because he was a doctor, but he had been selfish and thought just about distancing himself from Tony. He hated himself, and that was the reason why he left the room once that Stark started to move in the bed. A couple of nurses that followed him from the med bay were still looking at the screens, and Stephen walked out deciding to trust them with helping Tony into consciousness again.

He had never been good in speaking with patients, even if Tony wasn’t a random patient. He was the man Stephen loved and that he hurt over and over again. Natasha was standing in the hallway, her posture stiff, her long and now blonde hair kept in a bun away from her face, her full lower lip trapped in her teeth.

“The kids are with Bucky at Sam’s place,” She said, before rising her eyes on Stephen. “How is he?”

“I don’t know, Nat… I should have seen that coming, before,” A soft hand fell on his arm, and when he looked at the person by his side he saw a soft smile on Nat’s lips.

“You are not the one who lives there,” And while she wasn’t completely wrong, Stephen knew that it was his fault. He knew about Tony’s abandonment issues. He knew about how he guilty he felt because of Steve. “What do you want to do, now?”

“I… I need to speak with him. But it’ll do it tomorrow, once he’ll sober up a bit,” Nat nodded, walking toward her own room. Stephen didn’t have his oom in the Compound, because he wasn’t an official Avenger, but he wasn’t going to leave the building anytime soon, so he went for one of the common rooms. The sofa wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than going back to the Sanctum.

–

Friday woke him up after a while, as he asked her to do in case something was wrong with Stark and when the doctor entered the room, he found the genius bent over the WC in his private bathroom, sweaty and shaking.

Stephen helped Tony up, took a washcloth to tidy him up and then walked him back in the bed before deciding to sleep the rest of the night on a chair. Tony woke up three more times during the night and none of them he was totally aware of what was around him.

–

When he woke up in the morning, the first thing that Tony did was looking for one of his bottles. He knew he kept them somewhere in the room, but he couldn’t even remember of going to bed the night before so he had no idea where it was. He just knew that he needed it before the memories of Steve’s cerulean eyes dug deep enough to remember him that Captain America died because of him, and that Bruce was in a coma and everyone else hated him, or used him just for his money like Stephen did. Stephen. Thinking about the man was painful.

He loved him; he fell for him like a stupid teenager - or even worse, his teenagers weren’t so blindly in love - and everything he got back was the doctor telling that neither of them was ready for a relationship.

“Fri, be a good girl and tell me where did I leave the bottle yesterday,” He said, surprised when a soft “ehm…” came by his left side. Fighting against the spinning room, he turned too look at the intruder. “Fri, why Merlin is there?”

No response came from the AI. “Tony, we need to speak,” Tony tried not to look at the Supreme Sorcerer, knowing what effect his eyes had on him. Apparently, though, the man didn’t appreciate.

“Perfect! Let’s let my find something to drink and we can speak,” He said, while a part of him suspected that the drinking part was exactly what Stephen wanted to speak about. He didn’t have a problem with drinking. He had much more alcohol, when he was younger and if only Rhodey was there he could say it to everyone else so that they would stop to bother him.

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about,” Strange said, proving Tony’s point. He wasn’t ready for that conversation, not now and probably not ever, but he knew as well that letting the man speak was the best way to let him go away. “You lost consciousness in your workshop and if Nat and Peter wouldn’t have walked downstairs to look for you…”

“Peter…?” Tony interrupted, his brain was working slower (and he wasn’t going to say that it was because of the alcohol because that wasn’t the reason), recently, though the kid’s name was enough to bring it back fully operative. “Did he saw…?”

Stephen shook his head. He didn’t know how much Peter saw because he didn’t ask when he arrived last night, but he didn’t want to hurt Tony more. “I don’t know,” He decided for, a moment later. Tony was shaking and he knew it was because he didn’t want for his kid to see him like that, to see how his mentor destroyed himself.

He still wasn’t sure about the all ‘being a model for younger generations’ thing because he had never had a model in his entire life, and was scared as fuck to do something wrong, but he didn’t realize that he did it, over and over again. “I shouldn’t have drunk when the kid was around,” He said. “I… I can fix it…” He didn’t even know what he could fix. He just felt his breathing becoming less steady, and he couldn’t see anything in front of him but for black and white flashing lights.

A moment later, a trembling hand was tracing small circles against the skin of his wrist. Fuck! He knew that a glass of wine would have been enough to stop that suffocating sensation that was taking over him. Maybe he could trick the doctor to have a little bit. If not that he didn’t believe to himself while he was thinking about that. And when he collapsed against Stephen’s chest, the man hugged him tightly.

Stephen wanted to tell Tony a lot of things, but he simply couldn’t, not in that moment, not when he was so broken and vulnerable.

–

Stephen waited for Tony to feel better and have something in his stomach before presenting the argument he wanted to speak with him. Which meant that the two of them started to argue, and Stark tried to throw him something during their conversation. But in the end, Tony gave up with the promise that he could avoid to attend AA meetings. He didn’t want that to go public, and the doctor agreed. Tony would have to meet a therapist while Stephen was the only doctor to take care of his well being.

Which evolved in the Sorcerer Supreme asking Wong to keep an eye on the Sanctum while he was moving at the now alcohol-free Compound. And which meant that Stephen had to bear with Tony’s abstinence one day and the other. (To be honest, he must admit that Nat, Rhodey and Carol helped him, and Bucky came to the Compound and spoke with Tony about something that nobody knew, but which helped the genius).

There were goods and bads day, while it wasn’t like Stephen had expected for something different. He had been there, at Tony’s place, and while he had been forced to give up on alcohol and painkiller drugs because of Kamar Taj, he knew how awful the man must have been felt.

And that was the reason why Stephen didn’t push him away when Tony crawled against his body during that night. It was around a couple of weeks had passed since the night in the workshop how they started to refer it to, and Stephen was reading some books Wong delivered him that morning — if he couldn’t work at the Sanctum, he could at least try and study something — when he heard footsteps against the floor and, a moment later, a soft knocking over the door.

Tony was a shivering mess, hair damp with sweat against his face, flushed cheeks and lost glance. Stephen could hear his fretted breathing from where he was, and immediately felt worrying and getting wide with panic. “Tony?” He asked.

“Can I come there?” Stephen nodded, letting the other man entering in his bed and trying to calm him down. It required almost twenty minutes for him to know that Tony woke up and was this close to go to the closest supermarket to buy some cheap vodka.

“You didn’t do it, though,” Stephen said, placing a soft kiss against his hair and regretting it a moment later. He must help Tony, not being, again, a selfish prick. He loved him, but they couldn’t work together. Even if Tony’s therapist told him that his feelings were reciprocate

Tony needed to heal, and Stephen needed it as well, while he was maybe better in pretending he had his shit together. He didn’t. Stephen had trust issues and enough of commitment problems to drive anyone crazy. He was damaged goods, and not at all an easy person to be with. The only thing that could happen between them was the worse downfall as possible. And Stephen cared too much for the man for it to happen.

Tony was softly sobbing against his skin, by now, and Stephen had no idea for how long they stayed like that, but it had been long enough for Stark to fall asleep and that was the only thing that mattered, if you ask the Sorcerer.

–

Stephen told him about his own substance abuse problems after almost six months. By now, they fell into an easy routine, and the doctor moved back for longer periods to the Sanctum, especially when Tony was with the other Avengers. It was pleasant, and since Bruce woke up, and despite still have a lot of rehab to do, was doing pretty fine, things were actually going on the right way.

Tony looked at him and leaned closer, their lips merely brushing. And, for the first time in a long, long time, Stephen knew that kissing him back wasn’t wrong, Stephen knew that, even if the road was still long, Tony was himself enough to not to fall in his arms just because Stephen was there, because he was the easiest choice.

A couple of days after, Tony decided that he was ready to speak and apologize with Peter. The kid wasn’t angry with the genius, to be honest. But after what happened that night in the workshop, after seeing him lying on the floor — apparently he did saw him —, he just left, saying that he would have to meet his mentor when he was ready.

With Harley it had been different, Stephen knew that. The blond teen was actually angry with the man, but that also meant that they sorted things out easily once that Tony convinced himself that he needed help. And the Sorcerer knew that Tony was scared that the young Parker could refuse his apologizes.

Now, Harley, was by Tony’s other side in the backseat of Stark’s limo, smiling at him. “You’re Tony Stark,” He said smiling at his mechanic. “You can do it, dad.”

The hand Stephen was holding started to shake when Harley called him like that, but the light in his eyes was of pure pride. He nodded, and Stephen could do nothing but look at the man and follow him out of the car. They walked upstairs, reaching May Parker’s apartment.

The woman welcomed them with a cold smile before disappearing into the kitchen, letting them enter the house. Stephen couldn’t blame her, and he knew that Tony would have left the house the exact moment May decided for him to.

“Mr Stark!” Peter’s voice came from the main room and, a moment later, the kid threw himself in Tony’s arms, hugging him and trying to update the man on his past six months. Stephen looked at the man he loved, the kid from Queens in his hug and Harley looking them. They both weren’t in their best places, yet, but with each other and their kids they would have made it.

[randxmthxughts]

Flight to Toronto

AU/One-shot w/Shawn Mendes

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,6K

Short description: When Y/N gets asked to switch her seat on the plane to Toronto, she finds out that her new seat is next to famous singer Shawn Mendes.

Author’s note: I had this idea for a while and then I saw this post and it inspired me to immediately sit down and write this shot. Reblog if you like it <3

    When a young female voice pulled Y/N out of her thoughts, she had to wipe off a few dried tears, and fake a smile, turning her head.

    “Excuse me, miss.”

    “Yeah?”

    “You see, this is my boyfriend,” the woman speaking to her pointed to the guy sitting next to Y/N who gave her a small smile, “we couldn’t manage to get seats next to each other. And as you know this is an eight-hour flight so we wanted to ask you if you’d be down with switching your seat with mine? It’s only two rows ahead next to the window.”

    “Sure,” Y/N nodded with a polite smile, and as the couple thanked her, she took her backpack and moved to the row to which the woman had pointed out.

    The memories of her now ex-boyfriend were eating away at her, and she needed a big distraction. So the idea of being on a plane alone for eight hours wasn’t a good one since she’d be left alone with her thoughts. The row she moved to consisted of three seats, the outer one occupied with a middle-aged man who was already in his sleeping mask, the middle seat was taken by a guy of her age with curly hair. She sighed slightly at the way this guy was manspreading, focused on his phone screen, and she thought to herself that he wouldn’t probably even let her walk by normally. Passing by him with the heavy backpack she tried not to hit the sleeping man and accidentally tripped over the young guy’s feet, falling straight into her seat.

    “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn't notice you,” the guy whined, shoving the phone into his pocket and overlooking at her.

    “It’s fine,” Y/N groaned, slightly annoyed at herself for being so clumsy, as she rubbed her arm and tried to readjust her position.

    “Ah, are you fine?” the guy tilted his head, noting the way her face changed in pain.

    “No, it’s totally fine-” she lied, turning her head to finally see the guy’s face, and her mouth dropped open at the realization who it was, “aren’t you Shawn Men-”

    “Yes, quiet,” the guy shushed her quickly, putting his finger over her mouth.

    Y/N stared at him, completely confused, and froze at the sight of his hand on her face. Shawn stared at her for a few seconds making sure she’d stop talking, and as he realized that he was touching her lips, he quickly took his hand back and ran it through his curls. He sighed in disappointment, mad at himself for being so obnoxious.

    “I’m sorry again. I really crossed the line there,” he mumbled, and she nodded her head in agreement.

    “You could have told me not to talk to you, just because you’re a celebrity doesn’t mean you need to throw hands around, you know,” she frowned, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, clearly annoyed.

    “I apologize,” Shawn repeated himself, now lowering his voice, “it’s just I don’t want anyone to leak the information of my flight, because usually people show up with their friends and families and suddenly five fans turn into fifty in a matter of minutes,” he sighed, “And even though this sounds terrible, I am so not in the mood for staying in the airport with all of these people for the additional hour after an eight-hour flight.”

    “I get that,” she nodded again, this time giving him an understanding smile, “but why can’t you just travel on a private jet? I thought you celebrities were able to afford that kind of stuff.”

    Shawn smirked, shaking his head off a little, and looking around making sure nobody’s listening to him.

    “You see, this flight was unplanned, so I had just to take whatever was available.”   

    “Got it,” she smirked and leaned back into her seat, now finally adjusting to her new position.

    Shawn stared at her for a few more seconds, getting to examine her features, and leaned back into his seat as well, with a small smile tugged at his lips. This girl next to him was attractive, and he wouldn’t mind getting to know her and chat for little since he was going to be stuck on the plain for so long. Y/N seemed to share his thoughts; maybe after all being stuck with Shawn Mendes on an eight-hour flight wasn’t a bad distraction from her breakup.

    “I-,” Shawn opened his mouth, getting her attention back, “I didn’t catch your name.”

    “Because you haven’t asked,” she grinned, tilting her head slightly.

    “Well, since you know mine, I guess it would be fair if I knew yours.”

    “Y/N,” she raised her eyebrows as he extended his hand.

    “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiled again, as she shook his hand, “is this your first time flying to Toronto?”

    “Actually, I am from Toronto,” she smiled sadly, and the reasons for her flying back home washed over her.

    “Nice, me too.”

    “Off to see your family?” she asked, recalling the one interview of his she heard on the radio where he mentioned his parents a few times.

    “Yeah,” he nodded, his face lightening up with a toothy grin, “going to surprise them. They have no idea that we managed to rearrange some dates and get me a whole week off.”

    “That’s cool. They probably will be happy,” her eyes fell on his kind hazel eyes filled with such positive energy, she could tell he was excited, and certainly, loved the people he was going to see.

    “I hope so,” he joked, “what about you?”

    Y/N sighed, eyes laced with hesitation. She wasn’t sure if she should even continue having this conversation, but part of her desired to get to know this famous boy who breaks hearts of millions of girls but seems so polite and kind right now, to her.

    “Well, I flew out to Germany to surprise my boyfriend who’s studying there for his junior year,” she sighed again, looking back into Shawn’s genuinely curious eyes.

    He almost let the emotion of disappointment show through the small smile he struggled to keep on when she mentioned having a boyfriend, but Shawn kept himself composed and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

    “Long story short; turned out he was cheating on me, surprise failed, we broke up, and I’m going back home.”

    Shawn widened his eyes, as he lost the smile, his lips parting in surprise. Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, staring back at him, waiting for him to say something but all he could do is stare, expecting her to say it was a joke. He had never dealt with a situation like this, but part of him was amused with her story, even though he tried to push that feeling away.

    “Oh, that sucks,” he let out, “I mean, he must be a total douchebag!”

    “Turned out he is,” she tried to joke, but her voice came out more serious than she expected.

    “No, but really, how could he cheat on you,” Shawn spoke again, as words spilled out of his mouth, his mind working so quick he wasn’t even filtering his sentences, “you’re so beautiful!”

    “Thank you,” Y/N raised her eyebrows, “I think that wasn’t the case of him cheating on me, but thanks anyway, I guess?”

    “I mean, no matter what was the reason, it’s still horrible to cheat on somebody,” Shawn corrected himself, and pinched his nose with his fingers, embarrassed at how dumb he sounded to her.

    Y/N watched him distancing himself for a few seconds, and she found it funny the way he completely blacked out of reality. It was so entertaining she almost forgot about the chat they had and struggled to look away; who could have thought that an internationally famous person who always has to give interviews and is trained not to say too much would talk so all over the place and then get ashamed of himself.

    “You’re right,” she spoke suddenly, making him look up to her, “he should have treated me better.”

    Shawn narrowed his eyes at her trying to figure out if it was intentional. When she broke into a smile, he shook his head and let out an overwhelmed sigh.

    “Oh come on, would you just let go of it?”

    “I thought singers like it when you sing their songs,” Y/N narrowed her eyes back at him with a playful smile.

    “Exactly, ‘sing,’ not quote!”

    “Would you like me to sing the lines to you right here?”

    “No, no need to,” he replied almost too quickly, “you can do that another time. Preferably, at one of my concerts,” he grinned now recollecting himself.

    “Ugh, I don’t know about that,” Y/N teased him, “I’ve never done it.”

    “You just sing along when I sing, and shout when I say ‘sing it out for me,’” Shawn continued in a playful tone.

    ”Is that a date?”

    “If we get to grab some drinks afterward, then yes.”

    “Okay,” she nodded to him.

    Y/N fought back the smile at the thought of going out with Shawn Mendes. And it wasn’t really who he was but was the way he behaved himself with her. And maybe, after all, it wasn’t bad at all that she was stuck on this eight-hour flight with somebody down to earth who was attractive and kind, and maybe going out on a date with him was the best thing she’d agreed to in a long time. Shawn, however, didn’t fight his emotions and smiled, excited that the flight was so long and he’d get to spend the whole time next to this girl.

My recent works:

Sleepy boy - cuddling with Shawn on the couch late in the night, listening to his silly mumbling, as he falls asleep in your lap.

Fuck yourself, Shawn Mendes -  Shawn gets turned on by your angriness after you two have a massive fight.

Masterlist

Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

[peter-pan-hoe]

Junior pt 4

And here is part 4!

I’m not entirely sure what the plot will be but there will be eventual Pan x reader.

MASTERLIST

Junior Series

Warning: swearing, 

Word Count: 1,403

The boys all exchanged confused glances.

   “He didn’t have a mowhawk last time we saw him but he had dyed parts of his hair red,” Peter explained. “We also thought he was dead,”

   “And Killian and I thought he was here!” I shouted.

It was true. I’d only met him twice in passing but last time I spoke to him he told Killian that he was going to try and get back to Neverland.

   “What do you mean?” Felix looked so shaken up, like he wasn’t processing any information properly. “What do you know of Rufio?”

   “Very little,” I looked up at him carefully before standing. “My brother told me of the boy from one of his more severe trips to Neverland. He and his crew were on high alert beause of their previous dealings with the lost ones and when they were attacked, despite your youthful apearences they didn’t hold back,”

I had thought Felix’s face couldn’t screw up any further but i was proven wrong when it did. I didn’t even know face muscles could do that.

   “Killian told me of a boy named Rufio that he fought one on one for a while and he ended up falling through a portal that was opened accidentally when someone’s magic beans was flown lose in the fight,” I continued.

   “We assumed, with Rufio’s lack of portal experience, that he was lost to the void of limbo,” Peter said, crossing his arms.

   “I was told he made it through the portal to the land of untold stories,” i said as I began tying up my pants.

   “The land of untold stories?” peter repeated. “That’s where he ended up? But you’ve seen him since then. So he found a way to leave?”

   “Yeah I only met him a couple times and we never really spoke about his past,” I mumbled, tying my shirt now. “He and i didn’t speak much if you know what I mean…”

There were a few whispers and grumbles among the boys.

   “Last time i saw him he was on his way here,” they looked like they didn’t belive me. “From the looks on your faces I’m guessing he didn’t make it?”

   “No one’s seen Rufio since Hook tossed him into that portal,” Felix scoffed. “If he was here then we obviously wouldn’t be so suspicious of you,”

   “HE FELL!” I shouted. “He and Killian have moved past their issues. Rufio has said to my face that he fell trhough the portal,”

   “THEN WHERE IS HE?!” Felix screamed into my face, spit flying.

I flinched where his spit hit my face. With a deep set scowl I wiped it off and stepped forward.

   “I. Don’t. Know,” I growled slowly. “Like I said before, last I saw him he was trying to get here,”

   “Whatever,” Felix turned on his heel and stormed away.

   “Everyone go to bed,” Peter instructed. “NOW!”

The boys all scurried off leaving Peter and I alone by the bonfire.

   “Did Felix hurt you?” he asked me.

   “What?” I looked at him in surprise. “You watched him trhow me to the ground-”

   “I meant your clothes,” he said slowly. “He dragged you out here half naked. Did he do something to you?”

   “Oh,” I caught on to where his mind had taken him. Interesting that he cared so much. “No it wasn’t like that. I had complete control of that situation. Then I told him my name was Junior Jones and he freaked out,”

   “Yes well we witnessed that part,” he mumbled. “Look I-”

   “I have an idea,” I cut him off. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it…”

   “What’s the idea?” he raised an eyebrow in worry.

As the Shadow carried me over the waters surrounding Neverland I thought of how surprised I was as how quickly Pan agreed with my idea.

As the Shadow lowered me down I could hear hollering from the deck of the Jolly Roger.

   “Junior’s back!” Ian shouted when he saw that it was me the Shadow was carrying.

   “Hi guys!” I smiled as the Shadow dropped me on deck. “Where Killain?”

   “Up here!” his voice drew my attention to the quarter deck.

He jumped down the steps and ran to me, swooping me up in a spinning hug as the Shadow flew away.

   “Are you okay?” he held my face in his hands roughly, turning my from side to side, looking me over for injuries. “Did those bastards hurt you?”

   “Nah I’m fine,” I shrugged with a smirk. “Aside from Felix being an angry douche bag, I actually had an alright time,”

   “I’m sorry what?” he looked at me, astonished. “You had an alright time?”

   “Yeah Pan’s kinda nice,” I thought back to when he asked if Felix hurt me. “I have something bigger to tell you,”

   “W-what? Pan’s niCE?” he looked between me and the island on the horizon and tried to put everything together. “Whats bigger that you getting kidnapped to Neverland but the Lost Ones are actually ‘alright’?”

   “Rufio,” was all I responded with.

   “What about him?” his freaked out fidgeting stilled for a moment. “Did he say something to you? Is he okay?”

   “That’s just it,” I explained. “He never made it home,”

   “What?” he looked as if he were about to stumbled back dramatically.

   “I know right?” I started to push him away from the wheel. “You ready?”

i turned the wheel harshly to start heading to shore.

   “Ah ha ha! No?” he took the wheel from me. “Ready for what?”

I opened my mouth to respond but he cut me off.

   “If you say to go work with the Lost Boys to look for Rufio I will throw you over board and you can swim back to that blasted island,” he snapped.

   “I guess i should just jump then,” I said before walking to the rail and throwing my leg over.

I was almost all the way over when he grabbed me and put me back on my feet.

   “Did you somehow broker a deal with Pan?” he asked.

   “A deal would suggest we each get something of equal value,” I put my hands on my hips and glared up at him for good measure. “But I get 2 things and he gets one and has to do a thing as well,”

   “What?” apparently I confused him. “What are the things? What does he get?”

   “Well we both get each others help to look for Rufio as he’s a mutual friend,” I explained. “And the extra thing I get that he has to give me is he has to be civil with you and the crew,”

   “That’s not a thing!” he shrieked. “Wait he agreed?”

   “Yes dumbass,” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “But you have to be good as well. I’m don’t want to have to try and control the two of you like a couple of children,”

   “I’m a grown man,” he huffed in response.

   “Yeah okay,” Ian chuckled, shook his head and walked away.

   “Come on let;s go,” I took the wheel again with a harsh shove to Killian. “We’re going and you’re going to behave,”

   “Pan,” I called when we reached the beach. 

   “Junior,” he nodded with a smile.

   “Why’s he smiling at you?” Killian muttered protectively to me. “What? Does he think you guys are friends? Are you guys friends? Junior are you his friend?”

   “Can you shut up?” I turned to him with a frown much to the amusement of the Lost Boys. “We’re here to work together to find Rufio can you stop being an idiot?”

This earned more giggles from the Lost Boys.

   “That means you lot too!” I pointed an angry finger at the boys.

   “Alright alright,” Peter chuckled. “We’re all here for the same reason, let’s just be nice and find our mutual friend,”

the boy’s faces all sobered and a few nodded.

   “Althouhg I’m not sure why Rufio likes you in the first place,” Peter said. “You’re the reason he was thrown from Neverland to begin with,”

   “You can shut up too,” I snapped at him.

He looked surprised that I’d spoken to him so loudly.

Killian giggled a little by my side and I sent him a quick death glare.

   “Now,” I put my hands on my hips and turned to Felix who’d been standing silently by Peter this whole time. “You knew Rufio the best. Where should we start looking?”

Tags:

@dina3s @just-meh-and-me-dogs @xcastawayherosx @lexymeg @trashofthelowestkind @gunpowderandlead1213  @lostgirl14480 

[grumpytexansongbird-blog]

Last I Checked, I’m Still Developing

If childhood is the period of development, I guess I happen to be a regular Peter Pan.  I’m still developing in more ways than I could possibly think of in this moment. Like, I’m still trying to develop out of the box creativity (and a vocabulary that relies less on clichés). I wish I could say I’ve developed a high degree of patience, but that hasn’t happened yet.  How about some six pack abs and arms that don’t resemble toothpicks?  The layer of fat I’ve developed around my body certainly distinguishes the arms from toothpicks, but it doesn’t exactly help the six pack.  I wish I had actually internalized the fact that I would probably develop a lower metabolism as I aged.  I know I’m barely past childhood, but, you see, I don’t really see my development stopping, even though (sadly) I’m long past my growing stages.  Really, my growth plates filled in when I was about twelve.

I’m definitely not saying that Piaget was completely wrong about coining his stages of development.  Not in the least—disentangling development from biological processes doesn’t seem reasonable to me, especially since most humans do seem to have a relatively fixed rate of biological development that tends to correspond with things like language acquisition, walking, and more.  I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone hitting puberty when they’re eighty.  

What I would argue, however, is that biological development constitutes only one strand—or the non-sticky frame, at most—of what Fischer, Stein, and Heikkinen call the “dynamic webs of development” (2009, p. 598).  In this catchy metaphor, Fischer, Stein, and Heikkinen describe development to be “mov[ing] at a varying pace along multiple strands in a dynamic web across the life course,” with “a capability…var[ying] dynamically” according to one’s current context (2009, p. 598).

So, basically, my development in any aspect intersects with my life experiences and varies according to what situation I’m in at the time.  When does that ever stop?  I’m supposed to have developed abstract reasoning by now, but I bet you I’d flunk a math-based abstract reasoning test.  Now, I bet I could demonstrate that skill much better in an essay where you asked me to identify patterns in poetry or interpret the significance of a symbol.  Why?  I haven’t really seriously exercised the math-y part of my brain in about three years.  If development were fixed, I suppose I’d have retained those skills, but clearly not.  

We could look all we want at what’s normal for a child to have developed, but as long as we divorce development from the child’s (or adult’s) life experiences, I don’t see that analysis doing too much good.  Rather, I see an oversimplification of what development is, who is developing, and when, much like in Steinberg’s “Cognitive and Affective Development in Adolescence” (2005). Steinberg argues that different parts of the brain mature at different times, resulting in youth’s increased susceptibility to making risky choices, inability to regulate emotion, and behave in other ways that we’d typically frame as not adult-ish.  Steinberg does not account in any way for how experience might fit into the brain maturation equation, and, by virtue of the greater number of years adults have lived on this planet than children, many adults have a greater array of experiences to draw from.  Could less life experience be inversely related to riskier behavior?  Maybe, even probably.  Leaving out experience makes experimentation easier but also might be allowing for the presence of a significant lurking variable (see Arnett, 2013, for more information on how some people from some cultures never reach what Piaget designated the formal operations stage).  

While I don’t think that one’s biological state or maturity level has zero impact on development, I wonder why, if development is at least partially based on experiences, development is largely considered a childhood thing.

My conclusion? Development must be for adults, too.

References

Arnett, J. (2013). "3". Adolescence and Emerging Adulthood: A Cultural Approach (5th ed.). New York: Pearson Education Inc. p. 91.

Fischer, K. W., Stein, Z., & Heikkinen, K (2009). Narrow Assessments Misrepresent Development and Misguide Poicy. American Psychologist, 64(7), 595-600.

Steinberg, L. (2005). Cognitive and Affective Development in Adolescence. Trends in Cognitive Sciences 9(2), 69-73.

[quinnmorgendorffer]

I've just recently in the past few years gotten more into musical theater, so I have a lot to learn. I'm not a singer or anything, but I like to watch and listen. Also, I have to randomly ask something. Why the heck did " Glee" have Brian Stokes Mitchell on the show and not let him sing more? What a waste. Ha ha. What are some really underrated musicals?

That’s awesome! Nah man, you don’t have to be a singer to get into/like musical theater! We actually need more people to appreciate musical theater who don’t participate, honestly. Same with opera, but that’s another story I know no one here wants to get into lol.

Who knows, man? I mean, they had Victor Garber on and didn’t have him sing and fucking Cheyenne Jackson!!!! Even The Real O’Neals had Cheyenne sing!!!! And he was on one ep of that unlike being in several episodes like he was for glee.

Okay, so as I said, I’m a bit of an MT hipster. So I like a lot of weird shit lol. A not very detailed list is below, with some notes by yours truly lol. Sorry that this got so long omfg

Bat Boy - based on the Daily News articles, this chronichles the story of a bat boy found in a cave in West Virginia. He’s taken to the local vet, and while everyone in town just wants the doctor to kill him, the vet’s wife wants to take care of the teen, who she names Edgar, and teach him how to behave. The doctor kind of goes crazy and their daughter, Shelly, falls for Edgar. A lot of the parts in the show outside of the family are double casted, and it’s honestly hilarious and also makes me cry by the end, poking a lot of fun at “Christian Charity” (that’s the name of one of the songs that also gets a reprise) and the like. It’s extra loved by me for featuring the impeccable Kerry Butler (the original Penny in Hairspray, female lead in Xanadu, Catch Me If You Can...the ageless girl wonder)Reefer Madness - the Off-Broadway production opened the weekend of 9/11, which definitely effected its possible success. It’s, of course, based off the ridiculous propaganda film of the same name, though it takes it a bit farther and pokes fun at all of it and even more of the racist/sexist attitudes of the 1930s. While all/most of the others I’m talking about here only have CDs and maybe some bootlegs, this one has a movie version!!!! That actually is almost 100% like the stage version (at least based on what I saw). The movie features Kristen Bell as Mary Lane, the part she originated, and also features Alan Cumming and the forever under-appreciated Ana Gasteyer and Amy Spanger. Side Show - you can debate which version is better, but whether you prefer the original cast or the 2014 revival that changed some of the story to make it more accurate, it’s absolutely amazing. A musical based (loosely) off the true story of the conjoined Hilton twins who made a career of their oddity by working in freak shows, vaudeville, and even a few movies, though they were all critically panned. Features some of the best duets for female voices (most famously “Who Will Love Me As I Am?” and “I Will Never Leave You”). The original has Alice Ripley as one of the twins (Violet, and while I still think she screams a lot, she does a great job), and Norm Lewis as Jake. If you ever want to cry, just listen to his big song “You Should Be Loved” or the above duets. Or just read about the Hilton’s lives because it’s so depressing and the musical doesn’t even touch on that. I’m forever sad this never gets awards or the long runs it deserves. It should also be noted that Alice and her fellow twin, Emily Skinner (Daisy Hilton), were nominated together for the Tony.[title of show] - okay, this show is just...fucking........hilarious. “It’s a musical about two guys writing a musical about two guys writing a musical...” Just a lot of silly fun and also some great quotes, like “I’d rather be nine people’s favorite thing than a hundred people’s ninth favorite thing.” It also points out a lot of flaws in Broadway, like the lack of original musicals and how there are waaaaaaaay too many musicals based off movies lol. It’s a four person cast, all of whom are named after the people who originated the roles, and it manages to be just so funny and still inspirational and such a joy to listen to.Zanna, Don’t! - okay. so I get why most “oppressed group written as oppressors” stories are awful, like that whole “save our pearls” book or w/e that happened a few years back. But Zanna, Don’t was written by a gay man who just wanted to write some musicals with fun, catchy love songs for gay couples. So, in this world, being gay is the norm and straight people are the hated group. Zanna is an actual fairy (in high school) who matches up everyone in his town and never actually remembers to pair himself up with anyone. So when a straight A student and the quarterback of the football team fall in love...well, it finds a way to be cute, funny, and poignant all in one. Features Queer Eye “culture vulture” Jai Rodriguez in the title role and the show should get extra points for the line “what kind of world would this be if the football star wasn’t the lead in the musical??”In the Heights - not necessarily underrated so much as it’s just forgotten in Hamilton’s success. This tells the day in the life of people in Washington Heights. It also features a completely diverse cast and, imo, has some catchy songs that outdo some of Hamilton. If you don’t bawl while singing along to “Breathe” while stressing about failing at college/your dreams, what do you even do with your spare time? That used to be my most common activity.The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown - Idk if I can truly say it’s underrated since it really hasn’t been on Broadway so it’s never had a chance to get known...plus I think it’s popular among actual theater performers, but not enough of musical fans know about this. A lot of theater kids probably know “Freedom” and “Run Away With Me”, as the duet is a great choice for two women and shows a ton of depth/vocal prowess, while the solo can show a very tender male voice, but the show is more than those songs or “The Proposal” or “The Girl Who Drove Away”. The story starts with Sam sitting in her car. She’s supposed to be driving to college, but she’s fantasizing about driving away. She conjures up her best friend, Kelly, in her mind, and Kelly convinces her to relive her senior year and figure out why she wants to leave. You eventually find out Kelly died that year, and along the way you learn about Sam’s college applications, her boyfriend, and how lost she felt all year, all while still trying to learn how to drive. It’s so moving, and, honestly, “Freedom” is still a jam and probably does deserve to be one of the most famous songs from the show. The show might also inspire you to run away so...watch out for that. The bootleg I have is what inspire my love for Melissa, quite literally, since I had stopped watching g/lee at the time. The Boy from Oz - one of the better done jukebox musicals, since it focuses on the writer of those songs, and also is the best role Hugh Jackman will ever have. I’m sure a lot of people on my dash are familiar with Chris’ version of “Not the Boy Next Door” on g/lee. If you like it, you should check out Hugh performing that at the Tony’s. Anyways, it tells the life story of Peter Allen, whose songwriting credits include the above song, “I Honestly Love You”, and “Don’t Cry Out Loud”. He met Judy Garland and, of course, then met and married her daughter, Liza Minelli. I will never praise Stephanie J. Block’s Liza enough, she is perf. And, again, Hugh is flawless, and he originated the part both in Australia (Peter Allen’s home country) and then on Broadway. Getting to see the original cast in this was one of the highlights of my life.

That’s it for now. I’d also suggest checking out some classics. I didn’t put it on the list since it’s not underrated, but the original cast of Sweeney Todd is the best thing you could ever listen to - Victor Garber in his prime and Angela Landsbury is the forever best interpretation of Mrs. Lovett, #notsorry Patti. The movie version directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp is truly a disgrace compared to the actual version which has a legal taped version available for your viewing pleasure! You can see why it’s performed in opera houses nowadays!!! Though the video sadly doesn’t  have the original Anthony (Victor Garber) and the Johanna is bad...not that I’ve heard a Johanna I truly like. Rodgers and Hammerstein should at least be somewhat known, though a lot of their stories are like...gross. But Sondheim is pretty damn solid -- and if you didn’t know, he wrote the lyrics for Gypsy and West Side Story. A lot of people seem to not know that, but like he was making some big strides long before Company was a hit. Which also deserves a listen

[writing--ramblings]

Wounded (Hurt pt. 2)

Summary: Things get steamy when you and Peter wake up

A/N: So, this chapter isn’t the greatest, I accidentally deleted the last half so, I had to rewrite it. But, I still liked it, hopefully part three will be out soon.

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

You called his name as you followed him out, no response, he was down the hall a mere twenty feet ahead of you so you know he’d heard you. He rounded the corner and you began to think that this wasn’t worth it. If he isn’t going to stop then why chase him? Your walk became somewhat of a stomp as you reached the parking lot and you resisted the urge to smile as you saw his lean figure standing against your car. His smirk grew larger as he watched you approach.

"Nice of you to join me” his smirk never faltered even as you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Well it is my car” you told him, feigning annoyance “did your Wolfy powers go out of wack? I called your name” it was like your mind wasn’t sending the signal to your mouth to just *stop talking*, you hoped you didn’t sound like a clingy girlfriend but, you hated being ignored. During your short rant Peter’s eyes danced over your features and he had stepped so close that your noses touched.

“I’m sorry darlin’ I just didn’t want anyone to hear” his eyes filled with lust. You opened your mouth to ask what exactly he didn’t want anyone to hear when his lips came crashing down on yours you barely registered that you were kissing back until he bit your lower lip softly. Giving in eagerly to his silent request to open your mouth as he ran his tongue across yours, you let out a soft moan as he pulled you to him tight, you felt his member against you, letting out another as  he pulled away half a second later. “That, is what I didn’t want them to hear” huffing as he answered the unasked question. He bent his head and let his teeth brush your ear as he spoke “I want that noise to be reserved for my ears only”

You didn’t get a chance to respond because as quickly as it left, his mouth was back on yours and one hand was sliding its way up your shirt, the other gripped your ass tightly. “Peter” you moaned breathlessly into his mouth. Your hands found themselves eagerly pulling at the button of his pants and you began pulling them down.

Your eyes snapped open and you stared at the ceiling oh God oh God ohhh God you thought to yourself as you looked down, Peter was in the same position that you fell asleep in, arms tightly wrapped around you with his head still on your stomach. The dream momentarily pushed out of your head as you saw a sight that you’d never see well, more like felt, there was a small pool of drool right above your belly button. Resisting the incessant urge to giggle, you closed your eyes and thought back to your dream, your hand finding its way to its new favorite spot in Peter Hales dark locks. Really? A dirty dream about Peter? In Peter’s bed?! It isn’t like it’s never happened, you weren’t obsessed with the man but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was handsome. If you’re being honest you’ve had dreams like this before about a few of your other friends, what can you say that you haven’t before? They’re attractive and there’s no way to control your dreams plus you’re a grown ass woman with needs and all this supernatural stuff is seriously blocking your chances at getting anyone near you.

Seriously you were a human, how could you tell if the next guy who took you out wasn’t going to try to murder you? Your train of thought was brought back to reality when your stomach growled about ten minutes later, you’d been in the middle of eating your own food when Stiles and Peter had their argument.

“Guess that’s my cue to cook you breakfast”  Peter’s voice rasped below you. You jumped internally​.

“How uh… How long have you been awake?” You gazed at him from above.

“About twenty minutes” you could almost hear the smile on his face. Your cheeks grew hot because you’d only been awake for a few. “What were you dreaming about?” He asked mischievously. He loosened his grip slightly, only to tilt his head to look at you.

“Rainbows and Unicorns” you deadpanned, looking away from him, you wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction. He looked at you with desire, Peter was never one to back down from a challenge so he let a slow smile cross his lips as he slowly unwrapped himself from you and slid so that his head was burrowed into your neck, never letting his body stop touching you. He brought his lips to your ear.

“Lucky unicorn” his breath tickled your cheek and he let his tongue graze your ear. “How do you like it?” Your head turned instantly and you met his gaze.

“W-what?” In a second, Peter stood with his regular amused smirk and a lazy stretch, you hated how you had to force your eyes to stay on his face so as not to look down to the small line of skin that was peeking out from under his shirt as he raised his arms.

“Your bacon? I’m cooking you breakfast” the smirk he wore now stretched into a smile. Ladies and gentlemen, Peter Hale is back. You followed his lead and stretched before you left the bed.

“Extra crispy” you tried to run your fingers through your hair but you were met with a clump of leaves and mud. “I’m gonna need to borrow your shower” you told him with a scrunched face.

“Be my guest.” He pointed towards his master bath “towels are in the top cupboard” you nodded and headed towards his bathroom, saying it was huge was an understatement, this place was massive. Who needs this much room to shower? You couldn’t help thinking. There was a large jacuzzi tub on the far right side and you contemplated just hopping in and forcing Peter to bring your breakfast in while you bathed, a small giggle bubbled out at the idea, to your direct left was a door that you could only guess held the toilet.

You found the cupboard full of fluffy grey towels. And stepped into the large clear shower, it was one of the ones that had those blurred lines going through the middle so that if anyone were to be there they would only see your shoulders and above and your legs down, the entire torso blurred. You peeled off your muddy clothes and hopped into the now steaming shower. You sighed as the water hit you and thought about the previous night’s events. You couldn’t imagine how Peter felt, he may have gone about his revenge differently than the others may have liked but, it was revenge. Being with a group of supernaturals around the clock made you a little more cold hearted than you would have liked. Every one one of your friends had blood on their hands, though they didn’t like to admit it. Peter did though, he was accepting of what he did - of who he was, even if he was a little over the top at times.  Maybe that’s why you held such a soft spot in your heart for him, he never hid from you, his intentions were clear… for the most part.

You reached for your towel and wrapped it around yourself, looking around for your clothing as you stepped out and saw a pair of folded sweatpants and a too small tank top with lace straps in place of your clothing. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you pulled the top over your head and saw that it hugged you tightly and stopped just below your belly button. You blushed a little at the contrasting sweatpants that were much too large, they had to be Peter’s own. You tossed the towel in the hamper and walked out into the hallway following the smell of freshly cooked bacon.

As you made your way to the kitchen, you were met with a shirtless Peter, humming as he moved his way around the kitchen effortlessly. His hair still damp from a shower if his own, you avoided looking at his chest. “Thanks for the clothes” a pause, “won’t she miss her shirt” a little venom, you didn’t want to add laced your last few words. You weren’t jealous, you just thought it a little rude to give a woman another’s shirt. You were convincing yourself.

A chuckle bubbled out of him and he gestured for you to sit at the small dining table, you did. “You’re very welcome” he placed your plate with bacon eggs and small pancakes in front of you, orange juice had already been placed on the table. “I don’t think she’ll miss it very much at all” a knowing smile as he sat next to you with his own plate. You rolled your eyes and kept the conversation light after that. You both avoided talking about last night’s happening and you knew he was secretly grateful. You raised an eyebrow as he stood halfway finished with his food. “Haven’t you been wondering where your clothes are?” He answered your confused look and began walking away. “They’re in the wash” you thought back to the stripped bed and tossed a grateful smile and thought about the underwear you’d worn last night, satisfied with the lacy bra and boy short set you remembered wearing.  Not that it mattered.

“Put on some clothes!” You yelled as you heard him fumble about in the unseen laundry room. You had a very satisfied look on your face when he came back with a Henley top now hanging loosely on his torso. You kept your conversation as you both finished your meals. You chose to wash the dishes, it was only right as he was being so hospitable. A thought hit you and you couldn’t help but grin as you looked at him “Peter, am I your best friend?” The way you spoke to one another was a lot more casual and open than when he spoke to the others. You thought back to your relationship, every time you were around he was a little looser, you’d definitely been alone with him more so than anyone else, and when the rest of the pack left Peter’s you were always the last, sometimes mooching his food. Maybe you were friends after all.

The question brought a little color to Peter’s cheeks “If we have to put a label on it” he muttered. He stood behind you and leaned in, placing his arms on either side of you. “I’ve never had a best friend though, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know how to behave” his hand inched their way closer to you, until his arms were pressed tightly to your sides.

You cursed your body for the way that it betrayed you, your heart rate grew quickly, you felt yourself getting moist. You had to be a big girl about this though, he’d already won this morning. You turned your body and made sure press your ass against him as you did. “Lesson one:” You stood on your tiptoes and looped a finger through his belt loop as you pressed your lips against his ear, whispering “friends don’t get this close.” you trailed your hand up his torso and flattened your palm against his chest, pushing lightly. He gave you a genuine smile as he backed away.

Your heart jumped and Peter chuckled “You are much better at this than I thought you’d be” he studied you with soft eyes, then hungry ones. “What else can you teach me? And when can I teach you?” He leaned against the sink, still invading your personal space. Flirting was one of your favorite pastimes but, he was laying it on thick.

“I can teach you many things” you took his lead and leaned against the counter with a smirk that matched his  as you watched Peter’s eyes roam your body. The little minx that was brought out of you caught you by surprise but, you couldn’t say that you weren’t enjoying this, you could play this game. Peter let out a low growl in response and made a move to grab you until, the buzz of the dryer sounded and you and Peter both stood. Peter opened his mouth to say something and you saw him visibly decide against it, he turned headed to the laundry roomm.

You took that opportunity to cool down and grab your phone. 12 messages and 9 missed calls. You sent both Scott and Derek the same generic ‘I’m fine, we’re fine’ text and turned when Peter walked in.

“The fan club trying to get ahold of you?” He quirked an eyebrow and you laughed. He held your clothes in his hands and placed them on the table.

“Just trying to see where I ran off to, last night” you shrugged.

“Do they know that you ran off with the big bad wolf?” A wolfish grin formed.

“You’re not so big, and you aren’t that bad” you told him.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m very big, and I can be very bad if you ask nicely” there he was with his growling.

“Oh, I’m sure” you said sarcastically trying to hide the fact that your heart was pounding, that a small wet spot was forming between your legs, that you wanted to see if he was bluffing or not, you tried. But then, your eyes met.

Within seconds you were up against the wall with his lips attacking yours, you didn’t give yourself a chance to think as you were kissing him back feverishly. This was no pretty kiss, there was biting, pulling, grabbing. Peter pushed his hips into yours and you grasped a handful of his hair which earned a moan from him. So much for cooling off. He began to kiss down your neck as one claw ripped the straps of your tank top, your top now hung dangerously low on your breasts. “Peter…we can’t” you said between heavy breaths.

“We can” he let out a sigh and placed a hand on the wall behind you. “We should” you bit your lip and shook your head.

“Best friends, remember?” You smiled a little as you tried to calm your breathing. You held your hand out for him to shake, he glanced at it and shook his head once.

“You and your labels” he sighed and pushed himself off the wall. “You and your everything” he let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand down his face. He took a few more steps back and watched as you stood upright. “Fine. But please don’t let that shirt get any lower because, I promise I’ll show you how big and bad I am” you let out a gasp and covered your chest quickly.

“Sorry” you told him shakily.

“Don’t be.” He said huskily. “Sorry about your shirt, I’ll  buy you a new one” he said with a wink and left the room after handing you with last night’s clothes you put your shirt on quickly and slid the other off.

You both were calmer now, and you were greatful, because there was no way that if Peter made another advance, you’d push him off. You had to get out of there.

You quickly packed your clothes in your purse and put your shoes on.

“Leaving so soon, bestie?” Peter questioned as he walked back into the room, watching your every move.

“Yeah. I’m afraid that we’ll violate our new friendship, bestie” you told him honestly and walked towards the front door, you opened it.

“Right. Best friends” he gave a mock salute and put his hand out for you to shake.

You took his hand in yours and gave a firm shake. “Exactly” you smiled up at him.

“The handshake of death.” Peter remarked and you chuckled. You pulled your hand away but Peter had a firm grip, he loosened his grip on you but held your fingers in his, “Thanks for not treating me like a wounded animal” he said seriously, looking at your hands. He let go of your hand and you gave him a small smile.

The last thing you saw while you were leaving was Peter watching you drive off from his Apartment window.

[smiles-and-stitches]

//This is something I wrote awhile ago, another prompt,another prologue. Let me know if you like it, and I'll add more.//(!!TW!! Mentions of abuse/some gore)

Subjects G-073

Prologue: 4/14/20

Unedited//

Activating File #G3

loading... loading… loading.. 100% complete

Would you like to run a progress check on subject G-073?

[Yes] No

.................

Running diagnostic... 35%

loading... 77%

100% Complete

-Diagnostic results-

Name: Gwenevere Williams

Date of Birth: N/A

Age: N/A

Gender: F

Hair: Brown

Eyes: L Blue

....

What is Subject G-073?

“Was found in an abandoned mansion near Bethlehem Insane Asylum, London. She was afraid, stating someone was coming after her to take her away to a place called the Pychesphere, and we would all die if we took her away. She has been staying at the CLASSIFIED project lab for 2 months, not much activity other than mumbling and having extreme tourettes outbursts. She is reluctant to talk, has only stated things like “They are coming” and “Where is bubby?.” We do not know who she is talking about, we have diagnosed her with Schizophrenia. Dr. Schnitzenheim sees something in her, explaining that doing tests on her will do us no good. We got Subject G a therapist, which Subject G attacked in under 5 minutes. Taze guns do not affect the subject, we have recorded proof of her being able to manipulate the electricity, and even trying to bust our technology. She is class 4 out of 5, very dangerous and no personnel are allowed in her quarters. If anything happens under codes 840 and 310, call Dr. Schnitzenheim ASAP.”

Danger Level: 4[EXTREME]

Plan: “Find out where she is from, do tests on the subject to figure out her ways of bending/controlling electricity. Find out her connections with P-”

“S-sir..? There is a new subject you need to look at right away.” 

The small assistant panted out, catching his breath from the long run across the base. Sighing, the doctor looked over to the red headed boy. “You’ve been working here for four months Tate, you should know by now you can use the phones to get ahold of me.” “O-Oh yeah! Sorry I'm just very scatterbrain today haha..” the boy looked over to the two way mirror, looking at the subject curled up in the corner of her quarters. The doctor typed in a few things into the computer, as Riley furrowed his brows. “Has.. Has she moved at all since the last visit?” “No, No she hasn’t.” “O-Oh.. well don’t you think someone should check on h-her?” The doctor coughed, looking up from the computer to meet his assistants eyes. “You do remember what happened last time we did that, correct?” realization hit the young boy, as he looked down at the files. “Peter hasn’t come back from the hospital, and if it was only up to me I would have just got rid of him since he was dead as soon as she struck him” He clicked his pen, jotting down notes in a small journal. “W-What do you mean Sir?” Clearing his throat, the doctor looked at the subject and raised a brow. “When she has touched anyone, they have fallen fatally sick. Why is that? Or what about the fact that she has three different doctors, no not nurses, doctors. Whatever she is, she’s not human. Or at least isn’t anymore.”

    “W-Well why is she still here sir? Isn’t she like.. Really really dangerous?`` ''Yes Tate she is, but as the diagnostic says, Dr. Schnitzenheim is wanting to keep her here until we figure her out. Unless she starts being compliant, she’s gonna be here for a while.” “O-Oh ok.. W-wait you need to go see the new subject now! Quickly!” Tate started jogging away to section A, where we kept all of our new and potential subjects. Clicking the pen, the doctor took a deep breath. “I’ll be back, behave alright?” ”O#kaY..’” the girl whimpered, keeping her knees up against her chest. As the doctor left the room, she looked up with hypnotic blue eyes, tears running down her cheeks. With a deranged smile on her face, she moved her gaze to the camera aimed at her corner of the room. She giggled at the camera, and turned her gaze to the two way mirror. She struggled getting up from her position, her arms being bound to her body. She used the wall as support, and began walking over to the small desk in the corner of the room. There was a notebook in a plastic bag, along with a pen that was sealed in its case. 

    She stared at them for a moment and sat down at the small chair belonging to the desk. She had begged Cameron for something to do in this room, for the atmosphere was so sad and chaotic. Even if she couldn’t get to the items, it still made her happy there was something to look at other than white, white, and oh! More fuckin white. She grumbled to herself, her dark brown hair getting in her face. She giggled again, and got up kicking the table slightly, and began to circle around the room boredly, giggling to herself and her thoughts. Then, she finally settled back into her resting place, and stared at the camera that didn’t dare leave her figure, knowing what could happen if it did. In the other room, there was a young man being held in section A of the building.

“ Hey buddy, what’s your name?”

    All that greeted Cameron was silence, and he couldn’t see the boys face since all of his black hair was in the way. Cameron cleared his throat, and put his hands together on the table. “C’mon you’re not getting out of here until you speak up, I’m not your enemy here.” I heard a groan from the silent boy, then he looked up. Everyone gasped in the room, seeing the resemblance of this boy and.. Him. The man that escaped our ward, but the public didn’t know this was the place he escaped from. “My name.. ?” he looked around the room, his dull blue eyes scanning the people in the room. “It’s.. I think it’s Julles, that’s all I remember..” He put his head down, weeping quietly. “Where am I..? What happened to me why does my throat and head hurt so bad?..” “What is the last thing you remember?” Cameron said quietly. Waving his hand subtley to the Annie. Julles looked up at Cameron, “I.. I remember screaming to somebody, then some guy in a trench coat put his hand on my head and..” He looked to the side at the wall, a small “vrrmmm” could be heard in the room. The door opened loudly, making the boy jerk out of his seat slightly, seeing Dr.Hodge. She came over to the table, her heels clicking on the hard surface of the floor. “Julles huh? Is your last name Levin?” The boy looked up to her, and squinted his eyes in thought. “That.. that sounds familiar.. I think so?..” Nina chuckled, jotting down onto her notebook. “Of course you’re a Levin, you look exactly like your father, except your eyes have a bit more life in them. She took out a picture from a folder, it was a picture of an old abandoned mansion. “Do you know this place?” Cameron and Julles both looked at it, their eyes becoming wide.

 Cameron tried to hide his surprise, as Annie tapped his shoulder, making a motion to the door. Cameron got up from the seat, Dr. Hodge taking his place as she tried getting an answer from the confused and scared boy. He followed the small assistant outside of the room, turning slightly by the door. “What’s going on? Isn’t that the same place we found Subject G?” ”Yes that’s where we found Gwen, what part of the building was he in?” she paused, clutching her notes to her chest. “He.. He was in the next room, but when we searched the place the first time, finding her- he wasn’t there, there was nothing. We don’t know how he got there or.. If he really does have a connection with her. He has the same sort of zombie-like state she had when we first brought her in, too.” Cameron tapped his foot nervously, hearing muffled voices in the room. “This is really no job for these people, they have no clue what we could be messing with. Dr. Schnitzenheim will love to see this, I know for sure. But the thing is.. Do we really want to get caught up in all of this?” Annie lowered her head slightly, looking up at Cameron with her light green eyes. “The people running this place.. Are they hiding something from everybody else?” “Annie you know better then to ask me that kind of question.” He said, his voice deep and his eyes boring into hers. “O-Okay sir i’m sorry..” she backed up slightly, looking around the halls of the ward. “I’ll talk with you later.. It’s close to my lunch break i-is it okay if I go a tad early? I didn’t catch breakfast today..”

He put his hands behind his back, gripping his wrist tightly. “Go ahead, have a good lunch Ms. Hanson.” with his okay, Annie rushed off to the staff lounge. He stayed outside of the room for a little longer, thinking of her question and why he had to snap at her like that. He chuckled lowly, and went into the room where Julles was being questioned. The buzzing noise was getting louder, and the boy looked even more uncomfortable than before. Dr. Hodge had her head in her hands, and sighed frustratedly. “He doesn’t remember anything, what in the hell are we supposed to do with the information that he had a coffee cup in his bag?” “Nina, how about you let me talk to him.” She looked up at him, and got up from the seat and stood by the door. “Alone, Dr. Hodge.” she looked at him surprised, and waved at the assistants to go with her. Then, finally when Cameron and Julles were alone, the boy seemed a bit more comfortable. “I’m sorry everything is so formal, it’s just very important that we figure out why you were there. “ Julles shifted in his seat and gulped, “I really don’t know what the fuck is going on here sir..” He looked up at Cameron, with fear in his eyes. “But something is happening to me.. And.. and do you have any fuckin advil my head hurts so bad..” He clutched his head, as Cameron studied the boy. Black hair, dull blue eyes, eyebrow piercing on the left just like Cameron, and very fair. His eyes seemed to change from a light blue to dark grey every few moments. He could see Julles was getting impatient so he called the front office, asking for a bottle of advil. A nurse rushed in and put the bottle down, running away quickly out of the room. Julles grabbed the bottle violently, trying to open it with his shaky hands. Cameron got up, and went over to the water fountain that was in the corner of the room. He filled a paper cup up with water, and chuckled- walking over to Julles setting it down. “Want some help there son? Those caps are tricky” He took the bottle from him gently, and opened it taking out two pills, handing them to Julles. 

“Thanks..” he swallowed the pills and chugged the water quickly, and looked up to Cameron. “Are you up for a meal? It’s on me.” the doctor said, with a gentle smile on his face. Julles shifted in his seat before looking down again. “Y-Yeah actually.. I’m starving.” “Alrighty, follow me and I’ll get you something to eat.” Julles stood up hesitantly, and followed the doctor out of the room. They went down long hallways, hearing muffled noises from other rooms until they got to a navy blue door. In this room were tables and chairs, and there was a kitchen hidden behind a small window that Cameron walked over to. There was a man behind the window that popped his head up, the chef's hat getting in his face slightly. “Rhowch rif 5 a 7 i mi os gwelwch yn dda” “ie sir.” the man smiled, and disappeared into the kitchen. “Go ahead and sit down wherever you like, our food will be out in a moment.” Julles sat down at a table near the window with a confused expression on his face, as the doctor got two water bottles and sat them down in the middle of them. “How long have you been like this, do you know?” He took the water bottle, taking long gulps of his. He panted, and looked around. “It’s strange.. I feel like I've been like this for a long time, but I just woke up yesterday in that creepy mansion place..”

“So maybe you have a case of amnesia, do you remember anything at all? A name, face, place?” Julles fidgeted, “Just.. Just the scream, and the guy in the trench coat. He had a bandage around his eyes I think..” “You said he put his hand on your head, right? Did it do anything?” the room was still, but you could hear the small buzz as if the atmosphere made noise. “Yes.. Yes it hurt a lot. It burned, it felt like my head was gonna explode.. And- ngh!” He grabbed his head and groaned in pain. Without saying anything, Cameron took out the advil and gave the boy in pain two more pills- which Julles took without any hesitation. After several moments, a young boy came out of the kitchen and sat the plates of food down quietly, seeing that Julles was in a major state of pain- which wasn’t uncommon in this place. Julles unclutched his head, and looked around with a paranoid look on his face. He looked down, seeing the roasted turkey sandwich, with mashed potatoes and gravy in front of him. “T-Thanks.. For this” he mumbled and began eating the food, seeming to hold himself back from scarfing it down. Cameron brought his plate close to him- a chicken alfredo pasta - and chuckled at the boy. “You don’t have to thank me, it may be good manners but I’m just treating you like a human. That’s one thing people don’t remember nowadays, is that if you keep treating people like animals- you’re gonna get an animal alright” They giggled at the joke, trying to make this situation a little more light-hearted.

They ate their food in silence for a few moments, before Julles looked up and glanced out of the window. His eyes went wide, and he froze in fear. Cameron glanced out of the window calmly, and saw why Julles looked so frightened. About 200 yards away from the building at the tree line, was a man in a trench coat. His hands behind his back, and it looked like there were bandages on his face around his eyes. “Julles he can’t get you in he-” the loudest scream Cameron ever heard ripped out of Julles throat. Cameron crashed into the wall behind Jullian, in shock of what was happening. He heard screams in the kitchen, and heard more of them muffled across the ward. The chairs in front of Julles moved forward, and started to break as he kept screaming. The doctor tried getting Julles attention but couldn’t. He lunged at Julles and grabbed ahold of him, trying to get him to stop. “JULLIAN ENOUGH!!!” Cameron yelled- the scream stopped, many groans were heard around the ward. The boy was shaking in fear, and looked to Cameron with red puffy eyes. “Y-You.. How did you..?” Cameron huffed.. And backed away from Jullian. “Because son.. I know a lot of shit that I shouldn’t.” He brushed off his pants, and looked out the window- seeing the man was gone. 

“Julles is your nickname that your friends gave you.. You’ve been missing for three months.” “Wh-What?! H-How the fuck do you know all of this?” Jullians eyes teared up, he looked at Cameron with a confused and fearful expression. “Because Jullian..I keep in touch with many different things in life that most people don’t. Like for example, all the people you have met today don’t know you or why you are here, but I do.” there was that buzzing sound again, as Jullian stared at the doctor like he was insane. He chuckled “Plus I have contact with your father,” he said with a huge smile. Jullian gasped and rolled his eyes. “Jeez dude.. You scared me I thought you were some sort of weird psychic or something.” He sighed in relief and looked around the room, his eyes widening seeing what he had done. “Do you see all of this? This is what you caused by your fear. Good job, Jullian.” Cameron looked over to the kitchen door, seeing a red liquid coming from underneath the door. He sighed, hearing the crying of the old man. “Looks like we need to hire a new bus boy for the kitchen, I wonder who else has suffered a fatality.” Jullian looked horrified at the door. “I-I’m so sorry! Oh god I just killed someone.. Fuck fuck fu-!” “It’s quite alright son, I was going to fire him anyways.”

The boy looked at him with a bewildered expression, “Dude are you kidding me you aren’t freaking out?... How the fuck can you just say “OHAHA it’s totally fine!” How?!” without saying a word, Cameron went over to the kitchen door and opened it. The young boy from earlier that gave them their meals was on the ground in an uncomfortable position, his ears were painted red, leaving two puddles of blood on either sides of his head. He sighed, and looked at the crying old man next to the boy. “Reggie you may go home for the day, come in at 9 instead of 8 tomorrow alright?” “W-What abou-” Cameron raised his hand, and with that the old man stopped and got up from his crouching position, and moved into the other room to get his things. Cameron closed the door and came back to Jullian, who was still confused at the situation. “Julles, I think I know what happened to you but first.. You need to see someone that is at this ward. We can either do it tomorrow, or whenever Dr. Schnitzenheim is here.” “W-Who is Dr.Shitzneheim? I’ve heard a lot about them.. Are they gonna help me?” Cameron walked over to the entrance of the lounge, and sighed. “She will most likely aid me in helping you, but I will be the one to help you.” 

“O-Okay.. So who is this person that I need to see?..” Cameron looked over to him, “her name is Gwenevere. She was found in the same place as you, just in a different room.” Jullians eyes widened “Gwen.. GWEN!!” Jullian rushed at Cameron grabbing his shoulders “WHERE IS SHE?! S-She came looking f-``''Jullian quiet down if you don’t want the guards to come in here. Yes she's here, and yes i'll show you her. Tomorrow, alright Julles?” He was hyperventilating, and tried to calm himself down. Cameron sighed, “Looks like I’ll have to calm you, just breathe” as Jullian let out a breath of air Cameron put three of his fingers onto Julles head. With that action, Jullian collapsed unconscious onto the cold floor. Cameron looked down at Jullian, and smiled at him. He reached into his pocket and took out his radio, pushing the button down. “Hey Tate, get a room ready. Room type 0-M, asap.” interfierence came through the radio. “O-Oh! Okay Cam it’ll be ready in about 30 minutes.-``''Make that 20 minutes, Tate.” the doctor said in a low tone. The line was quiet for a moment before a small voice came through. “Y-Yes sir..”  With that, Cameron looked outside of the window and sighed. Rubbing his temples he called in two guards that took the young boy away to a confined area. He walked over slowly to the window and smiled. “Well…

 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎.”

[randxmthxughts]

The crazy dream

One-shot w/ Peter Parker

Prompt: 40.)“So, I had the craziest dream last night.”

I wrote this for @starksparker 10k celebration, hope you’ll enjoy it!

word count: 2,3K

masterlist

*****​

    “I can’t believe he is avoiding not only me, but also YOU!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing her finger at Ned.

    The guy nervously chuckled, slightly terrified at her reaction; no matter how many times Peter had pissed her off, Ned had never seen her so impatient and angry with him. Their friend not only showed up to the class running late, but also didn’t even join them on the lunch break; it seemed like he was afraid to face them, and it was starting to drive the girl crazy.

    “Why isn’t he here yet? It’s the end of the classes. He can’t stay in the school for the rest of the day, goddammit!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, making Ned jump in his seat again.

    It was a gloomy day, and both of them were freezing, sitting on the bench right in front of the school building. They saw many of their peers rushing home, giving them weird looks; who would sit out in the cold weather when the classes were over?

    “Y/N, I think we should just go home and text him a bit later,” Ned rubbed his palms against each other, trying to warm up.

    “No, we have to stay and not let him do his little shifty plan,” Y/N mumbled, looking around, “Here he is! Little piece of-”

    “Guys!” Peter shouted from afar, walking towards them.

    Ned frowned, looking back and forth in between his friend and Y/N. She was confused at Peter’s behavior, but still mad, her eyebrows frowning as well, and mouth opening in an attempt to say something, but no sound coming out. Peter jogged over and seconds later he was standing right in front of them, with a big grin on his face.

    “What’s up, guys?” Peter asked, crossing his arms over his chest, burying his cold fingers in the crooks of his elbows.

    “What’s up? What is up with you, Peter?” Y/N’s voice turned out harsh, making Ned gulp down nervously.

    “Uh, I don’t think much?” Peter quirked his eyebrow, and brushed it off quickly, “anyway. I was trying to tell you this all day!”

    “Oh, really?” Y/N asked sarcastically, running out of patience.

    “So, I had the craziest dream last night,” Peter exhaled, breaking into a big smile again.

    Ned pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, exhaling loudly in disappointment; he could already feel smoke coming out of Y/N’s ears.

    “Let me tell you! But why are you two so weird?” Peter narrowed his eyes at his friends, failing at figuring out their emotions.

    “Whatever, Peter,” Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back into the bench, “go on, tell us.”

    “Thanks, Y/N, at least somebody’s hearing me out,” Peter smiled at Y/N, and turned back to Ned to give him a weird annoyed look.

    Ned only shook his head, leaning back himself. Peter was sometimes unable to recognize sarcasm, but was is so hard to notice Y/N almost sweating out of angriness?

    “Alright, so I had a dinner with aunt May, and she had made the most incredible chicken. And I know for sure, that aunt May cannot cook very well. Ah, so I had dinner with her and I kept complimenting the chicken, and instead of getting amused she just got mad, and told me to enjoy the food instead of talking so much. And then it was very blurry, you know, how it is in a dream.”

    Y/N was still annoyed with Peter; he forced shivers to run down her spine, and anger was boiling her head up. How could he act so innocent and be such-- normal Peter, and do not even mention what happened in between them yesterday? And lie right in front of Ned? His best friend! Y/N crossed her arms, letting out a frustrated sigh, earning an apologetic look from Ned. The guy was already done with Peter and all he could do is feel sorry for Y/N to have her to put up with Peter too.

    “Ah, and also I remember feeling really bad. Like, you know, when you get sick because of food? I’m glad it was only a dream, otherwise, I would have probably puked or something,” Peter exhaled with a relief, articulating his every word with sudden movement of his hands, “and then you two magically appeared in my room, cause I was sick and I laid down. But also I was recovering, I guess, so it wasn’t a big deal, only Aunt May was freaking out a bit,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

    Ned narrowed his eyes at his friend, finding the details of the dream too familiar. He overlooked at Y/N, hoping to get confirmation but she was too busy trying to control her emotions. Ned bit his cheek, paying attention to Peter again. What was going to happen when Y/N explodes?

    “And you brought me a smoothie, which tasted absolutely horrible!” Peter laughed, speaking to Y/N, “it was in fact, disgusting, but in my dream I gulped that down not to offend you.”

    “Peter-” Ned opened his mouth, trying to prevent Peter further from talking, but got interrupted quickly.

    “Oh really? Yikes, I feel bad for you,” Y/N felt her face heating up, as sarcasm poured out of her mouth, “go on, Parker.”

    “I know right,” the guy chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets, “what was even crazier is that Ned went to get me some napkins, and you and I stayed alone, and you started mumbling about something related to worrying about me. I’m not really sure,” Peter rambled, “and then you kissed me! I have no idea how did I even dream of that, but like we made out for a few minutes? I guess? And then Ned walked in on us, and you screamed ‘Cancel’ right in his face and ran off,” Peter chuckled again, looking down at his feet.

    Y/N opened her mouth in awe, her eyes turning ice cold. She slowly turned her head to her right and stared at Ned, who was shocked himself. Peter did not just retell the embarrassing story and laughed at it.

    “He did not,” Y/N gritted through her teeth.

    “Y/N, calm down,” Ned quickly placed his hands on her shoulders.

    Peter glanced in between his friends, his eyebrows raising up in surprise. He couldn’t understand why, firstly, he didn’t get any interaction with the funny dream itself, and, secondly, they were ignoring him.

    “Are you kidding me?” Y/N spat out, standing up from her seat.

    “Y/N-” Ned almost pleaded.

    “Shut up, Ned,” she scoffed, walking closer to Peter.

    She stood one step away from him, her hands slowly forming into fists. Peter shifted uncomfortably, gulping down the upcoming fear. He had no idea what Y/N was going to do next, but his heart was racing fast.

    “You’re gonna avoid me the whole day and then embarrass me right in front of Ned and make fun of my feelings? Like this?” her voice cracked mid-sentence, breathing heavily.

    “What? What are you talking about?” Peter frowned again, waiting for an explanation.

    Y/N didn’t give him one. She grabbed her bag and stormed off, with shaky breathing, almost running away.

    “Y/N, wait! Can you please explain?” Peter shouted, but she didn’t even look back, “what the hell?

    “Look man, you’re honestly such a dumbass,” Ned let out, standing up himself, ready to leave.   

    “Wait, where are you going?” Peter articulated with hands.

    “Leaving you alone so you can finally remember that it wasn’t a dream, idiot.”

*******

    The knock on her bedroom door pulled Y/N out of her thoughts. She wiped off the remaining dried off tears, and let out a small ‘Come in’, preparing to face her worried parents. She came to a surprise when the guy she was just crying about walked into the room, with a guilty look on his face, even his posture less confident than usual. Y/N gulped down, nervously, and watched him carefully close the door behind him.

    “Hi, Y/N,” Peter gave her a small wave, not daring to walk closer to the bed she was sitting on, “your mom let me in.”

    “Of course she did,” Y/N rolled her eyes, sniffing, “she loves you a little too much to let you wait in the living room like normal people do.”

    “Ah, I’m your best friend though, I guess it’s normal she’d let me in,” Peter rambled, slightly offended.

    “Why did you come, Peter?” Y/N interrupted him, running out of patience, “To make fun of my feelings again?”   

    “What? No-”

    “I mean, I guess I would be slightly offended if you had just rejected me yesterday, but you made it so much worse today by playing out this stupid scene, and not only in front of me, but also Ned!” she threw her hands in the air, genuinely not understanding why Peter would do something like that; it was so unlike him.

    “Look, I didn’t mean any of that, I swear,” Peter spoke in quickly, “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized what I was doing until Ned told me.”

    “You didn’t realize?” she quirked her eyebrow, confused.

    “I honestly thought it was a dream. I swear!” Peter seemed so nervous and genuine with his words, Y/N felt softening up towards him.

    “Are you playing dumb or do you think I am that dumb?” she crossed her arms on her chest, wanting to disagree with him, but something inside her hoped that he was honest.

    “I am dumb! I must have hit my head really bad when I went back home yesterday, and aunt May really did have chicken for the dinner. She was mad at me for complimenting it so much because it was the first time she bought a take out from an unknown small place in town. She thought I wouldn’t notice the difference, and got really offended because I usually do not talk about her food so much,” Peter spat out, and finally paused to breathe in.

    His eyes widened, when he saw a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her eyes crinkling at the way he was telling the story. Peter looked like a little child who behaved naughty and was now trying to justify himself in front of his mom. He tried so hard to make the story real that it was starting to sound ingenuine.

    “What?” she frowned again, noticing how Peter smiled back at her, “You don’t have anything else to say?”

    “No, ah, no- of course, I do! So… where was I?”

    “The chicken.”

    “-Right! The chicken! Aunt May bought it from some unknown place and I don’t know what they had put in it but it made me sick to my stomach, I guess that’s where my dizziness came from. And she told me to go lay down, and then Ned told me that you two decided to visit me, and that’s why you brought me the smoothie,” he rubbed the back of his neck, anxiously, feeling Y/N’s eyes almost burning a hole through him at the mentioning of the smoothie, “I’m sorry for calling it rubbish, it made me feel better!”

    “Whatever, Parker.”

    “Ned also told me that you did confess that you have a crush on me,” he mumbled, biting his lower lip.

    “I did,” Y/N confirmed, her voice cold as ice, “and you went ahead and made fun of it today.”

    “I didn’t!” Peter sighed in frustration, rubbing his forehead, “I swear I thought it was a real dream! I slept in, and was avoiding you because I thought it was weird to have a dream like that about you, and then I saw you two waiting for me and I freaked out and told you everything, and then you got pissed off, and I thought it was because I dreamt of you making out with me, until Ned told me that it actually happened,” Peter continued, barely catching up on his breathing.

    “Did you really think it was a dream?” Y/N asked hopefully.

    “Yeah,” Peter nodded, guilt evident in his eyes, “and about the confession-”

    “What about it?”

    “Um,” Peter lowered his gaze, walking closer to her bed, “I really meant that kiss, and the other one after it.”

    Y/N stared at him for a few seconds, a smile forming up on her face. She couldn’t believe that all of the angriness that was heating her up the whole day disappeared in a matter of minutes because of the same guy that made her so upset.

    “I guess I could have expected something so stupid from you,” she let out, pointing to her bed, “you can sit down.”

    Peter only laughed, taking a seat next to her, his eyes focusing on nothing else but her face. Y/N felt a little awkward under his gaze, so she decided to fill in the awkward silence herself.

    “Yeah, you’d be the first person in my list to do something like this,” she looked down, unable to meet his eyes, “I mean, who else would think that making out with their best friend would be a dream? That’s dumb,” she chuckled nervously, “I mean-”

    She quickly went silent when felt Peter’s lips on her cheek. Heat rushed to her face and she immediately looked up to find his slightly anxious and embarrassed face.

    “What? Why are you blushing?” she asked, noticing red peeking out on his cheeks.

    “I was going for, ugh, the lips, actually,” Peter rambled, awkwardly pointing to her mouth.

    “God,” Y/N giggled loudly, pulling him closer, “my lips are right here.”