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ghostbustermelanieking · 4 years ago

Note

Jmart with 1?

so i made this prompt entirely too complicated. i've kind of had this idea for a while and used this prompt as an excuse to write it lol. i need to put more safehouse fics out in the world, right? also can be found here on ao3

1. things you said at 1 a.m.

It's too cold, after leaving the Lonely. It shouldn't be this bloody cold in London in September—it feels like it's below zero—and Martin's teeth are chattering as they walk back from the Institute. His fingers are freezing. Jon's shivering, too, clutching Martin's hand with both of his, leaning towards Martin as if he is a heater. It feels like they need winter coats, hats and scarves and gloves to block the wind, but the wind isn't blowing at all; Jon Knows, without even trying, that it's really just 10°C outside.

Martin hasn't completely shaken off the remnants of the Lonely yet. He's out of it, taking long moments to respond when Jon says anything; his eyes are still a faded gray. And he's shaking so hard that Jon can feel the vibrations all the way up his arm. He's tired. He keeps swaying into Jon's shoulder, unsteady on his feet. Hold on, Martin, Jon keeps saying. We'll be home soon. He squeezes Martin's hands. Numbly, slowly, Martin squeezes back.

They go to Martin's flat, because Jon doesn't have one and the Institute isn't safe. Martin's fingers are numb with cold (Jon Knows without trying), fumbling around his key without getting a good hold on it before Jon reaches for it and asks if he should do it. Martin nods, quiet, and Jon lets them in.

It isn't any warmer in Martin's flat. Not surprising, as deep as the Lonely had seeped into Martin, but it still hurts Jon a little to see, the cold seeping into his bones. They sit on the couch, vaguely speaking of dinner; Jon isn't hungry, but he knows Martin needs to eat, and so he presses the issue, thinking only of all the times in the beginning that Martin had pressed him to eat or brought him tea. He makes the tea this time, makes it the way he remembers Martin making it once, before the Unknowing, and brings the mugs into the living room. They never do make it to dinner; Martin is quiet, responding numbly, or not at all, to questions, and Jon isn't doing much better. Martin talks of moving to the bed—well, really, he tells Jon to take the bed and Jon says absolutely not, thinks It's your bed and I won't leave you alone —but it never happens. In the end, Martin falls asleep on the couch, his head tipped back against the back of the couch, his mouth half opening, shivering violently in his sleep, his tea going cold on the coffee table.

Jon finds every blanket in the flat that he can and piles it over Martin, practically cocooning him in them. It's clumsy work; Martin's comforter keeps sliding off, and the afghan from the couch gets tangled in the extra quilts. But it looks warm, and that's all that matters, that Martin is warm.

(There's fog in the flat, just a little, creeping over the floor. The Lonely is here with them, seeped into both of their bones, but it's sunk deeper into Martin, and all Jon can think is that he won't let him go. He won't let Martin be lost, not again. Not if he can help it.)

There are no blankets left. Jon pulls his own coat over himself, and then—trying not to feel too entirely pathetic—Martin's. It's large and warm, warmer than Jon's own; it smells like Martin, too, Jon's nose pressed against the collar. But Martin isn't gone this time, isn't off somewhere cloaked too heavily in fog for Jon to reach him; Martin is right here. Jon can hear his deep, shaking breaths, feel the comforting weight of him on the opposite side of the couch.

He fumbles through the layers of coats and blankets and finds Martin's hand again. It is the warmest part of him, as he's falling asleep, his hand in Martin's.

---

Jon and Martin sleep on the train to Scotland. They're both exhausted, both worn out, and both, somehow, still freezing. They shouldn't be this cold. Jon Knows they shouldn't be this cold.

Martin's brought blankets, and he insists Jon take one; he's been better today, more there, more… Martin, and he wasn't happy that Jon didn't leave any blankets for himself the night before. Jon's so cold—even in a jumper and a coat, and with the sun coming through the window—that he doesn't argue. (Well. Only a little, only to see Martin's face screw up in mock irritation in a way that might make Jon melt a little inside.) He takes the blanket. It smells like Martin, too.

They sleep, and Jon wakes up still cold, fingers still freezing, bones aching—except on one side, where he and Martin have slumped against each other, Jon's head on Martin's shoulder, and Martin's head against Jon's. The warmth seeps through the layers of blankets and coats and all of it.

Jon stays there, leaning heavily into Martin, for a long time after he wakes up, not ready to move away from the warmth.

---

There aren't enough blankets in the safehouse.

There is only one bed, which helps. One large bed—Daisy must have liked her space. But still: it makes the discussion over blankets easier. (They argue a little over who will take the bed; Martin tries to take the couch, and Jon tries to take the couch, and it begins to get ridiculous. It just makes sense, in the end, to share the bed.) Between the two of them, they pile the sheets, three quilts, and the blankets Martin brought on the bed. It still isn't enough. The bed stays freezing, and Martin stays freezing, too. He's been layering jumpers, scarves, even wooly hats, and pushing the same towards Jon; he looks like someone braving a blizzard, or sick with a cold, and Jon tells him so. He worries, afterwards, that he's crossed the line, made a joke about something distinctly unfunny (reverted back to a version of himself that he'd rather forget), but Martin just laughs a little and says, "If I'd known this would be the effect of working for Peter, I might've invested in more winter clothing." Jon laughs, too, and accepts the scarf and hat when Martin pushes it his way.

There's a box of firewood out by an old shed. Jon doesn't bother speculating what it might be for. They build a fire in the hearth, that first night, and that helps. Read books they've both packed on the couch, their knees touching through the layers of blankets, and it's the most peaceful Jon's felt in a long time.

The cold creeps back in, though. Even with the blankets, even with the ancient heating system in the house turned on, even with Martin in the bed with him ( Martin, who Jon has missed tremendously for seven months now). The cold and the fog and all of it; it creeps back in while they are sleeping, when Jon is too distracted to notice.

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, shivering, teeth chattering. There is a quivering in the blankets, a sort of shaking, and Jon knows that Martin is shivering, too. The fog is creeping back in; somehow, the Lonely hasn't left them yet. Jon reaches out and brushes his fingers over Martin's arm; he hisses a little at the contact. One or both of them are as cold as ice; he isn't sure who anymore.

His mind immediately begins racing, searching for any sort of alternative to the blankets and the jumpers and the socks and scarves. More jumpers in the suitcase, he thinks. The coats. Maybe they can conserve some warmth with the curtains, or some ridiculous thing like that. Anything to keep Martin warm. Somehow, two of the blankets have ended up on his side—Jon isn't sure why—so he attempts to rearrange them, pushing them over to Martin's side, and slides to the edge of the bed, ready to retrieve more things from the suitcase. But Martin's voice, rising blearily, sleepily from the other side of the bed—"J'n?"—stops Jon in his tracks. He hadn't realized that Martin was awake.

Martin yawns, twisting in the covers, his teeth chattering a few more times. "What… what time s'it?

"1:07 a.m.," says Jon automatically. He shivers hard a few times on instinct, wraps his arms around himself. "I-I'm sorry, Martin, I-I… didn't mean to wake you."

"Mm, wasn' really sleeping anyway…" Martin yawns again, rubbing at his eyes. They look bigger, somehow, without his glasses, dark and soft in the dim light of the room, and Jon loves him so much.

"I… I wanted to get you more blankets," Jon says, forgetting for a moment that there aren't any others—he revises, "O-or… something else to keep you warm. Something… y-you looked cold, I mean."

Martin blinks a few times in disbelief. Looks out at the blankets at the bed and pulls at the two knit ones from his own flat, like he can't believe they're there. "Jon, you… gave me the blankets back," he says, voice stiff thick with sleepiness.

Jon chews at his lower lip, shudders all over as another wave of cold hits. "Y-yes, well, they'd… ended up on my side of the bed, somehow, and you… you were cold, as I said, and I…"

"Jon, I g-g-gave them to you for a reason," Martin says, sounding more awake, and maybe a little fauxly put out; he's clenching his jaw as he talks in an attempt to keep his teeth from chattering. " You're cold, Jon. You were sh-shivering in your sleep!"

It's Jon's turn to blink in surprise now, caught off guard by Martin's words. "Yes, b-but you… you need the blankets more than I do, Martin… th-they're your blankets, and you've been freezing since the Lonely, a-and…" He looks out at the room. He can't see the fog anymore, but that doesn't mean it's gone. "I don't want to lose y—" he starts, stops. Martin might not be his to lose. Amends: "I-I don't want you to be lost, not again, a-and I…"

Martin makes a faint sound of what might be disgust. "This is ridiculous, Jon," he says, and Jon allows himself to worry for a second (Has he gone too far, saying I don't want to lose you, assuming Martin wants this kind of contact, when Martin only said he loved Jon, not love?), before Martin continues: "W-we were both touched by the Lonely… we've both been alone for so long, w-we…" He stops, rubs a hand over his face. Jon can feel him shivering from here, all the way across the mattress. (King sized. Why does Daisy need something this big?)

Martin lowers his hand. His eyes are wet; Jon can see, and he worries still that he's gone too far. But then Martin's reaching across the mattress, his hand extended towards Jon, and saying, "W-we should just… it'd be warmer if we, um…"

Jon slips his cold fingers through Martin's; Martin squeezes his hand, so gently that Jon's chest aches a little. He says, his voice soft and sleepy, "... C'mere?"

Tentative, Jon slides across the mattress, through the nest of blankets towards Martin's broad, soft chest. And then Martin's arms are sliding around him. Martin's embracing him, hands soft and just as cautious against Jon's back. And Jon can't help it anymore; he melts into the embrace. Winds his own arms around Martin, pressing as close as he can physically get (arms around his shoulders, face pressed into his neck). It's easy, too easy, because Martin has been gone for so long and Jon just only now got him back—he's thinking of the tapes and Martin slipping away down the hall, Martin being taken into the Lonely, Martin's voice saying he wouldn't be coming back, and it's all too easy to cling to Martin hard as he can. They're both still freezing, skin chilled to the cut, but… Jon can feel it dissipating. Something warm is growing between them, he thinks. Something.

"How did neither of us think of this?" Martin whispers. There's a quiver in his voice, just subtle enough that Jon can't tell if he's laughing or crying. "Two days we've been freezing, bundling up, a-and throwing blankets at each other like we're jumping onto a grenade… a-and neither of us thought of this?"

"I missed you," Jon whispers. He hears a sharp gasp from Martin, like he might cry, and it only makes him hold on harder. He's never held Martin like this before, never. (They hugged, before the Unknowing, but that was quick and awkward and over too soon, and Jon had foolishly thought there would still be a chance for this when he came back.) He's never held Martin like this before, but he knows he never wants to stop. He presses his nose against the hollow of Martin's neck and says again, "I missed you, Martin. So much. I… I don't think I can begin to tell you how much."

Martin takes a few trembling breaths. Ducks his head to press his lips against Jon's forehead—Jon leans into the affection of the touch, the warmth. "I've… missed you, too," he murmurs. "So much, Jon, I… staying away from you, a-after you came back… I thought I'd lost you, a-and it… it almost killed me."

"I'm here," says Jon, "I'm here, you're here," and he kisses Martin at the soft spot under his jaw. Presses closer into the bubble of heat they've created, threads his fingers through Martin's hair and adds, silently, I'll keep you warm.

When they wake, the next morning, the cold is gone, and so is the fog. Like it was never even there in the first place.

#thanks for the prompt!!#tma fic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #jm #i wrote this

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chaoticparker · 4 years ago

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Locked In

Peter parker x reader (kinda hinted at bi reader)

Summary: You and Peter get locked in a hotel room and force to stay together for the night, with only one bed :)

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: extreme fluff, some references to sex (if that even counts lol there are like 3), cheesy plot

masterlist

“FLASH LET US OUT!” You screamed, banging at the door.

“NOT UNTILL YOU AND PETER SAY THE MAGIC WORDS Y/N!” Flash teased back in response.

“How the hell are we gonna know what these fucking magic words are if you don’t tell us?” You annoyingly asked. There was silence from the other side, but soon you could make out faint whispers belonging to Flash, MJ, and Ned.

“You’ll both just have to figure it out yourselves” MJ snapped, but you weren’t sure if it was to Peter and you, or if she was just sick and tired of having to deal with Flash’s annoying behavior.

“Ned please, can you let me and y/n out? We don’t want to play your sick game.” Peter said, jiggling at the door knob.

“Sorry dude this is for your own good.” Ned replied, “and y/n’s”

When you imagined your first quiz bowl tournament of the year to D.C, you never imagined that you would be trapped in a room with Peter, banging at the door to let you out.

Mj had asked you and Peter to get something from the room, and as soon as you two stepped in, Flash locked you and Peter in the room of which you and MJ shared; which leaves you in your current predicament: trapped in a room late at night, with your best friend Peter Parker.

You would have been fine if this happened last year, but recently you discovered your newfound love for Peter. The way his smile made you feel safe and the way that his hugs would linger for a little longer than usual. And of course when you discovered he was spider-man, it only made you fall in love harder, the way he would risk his life for anyone, it made your heart feel things it never has before.

And of course Peter felt the same way about you. The only difference was that he knew from the moment he saw you, well maybe not exactly knew but he most definitely was in love. From the day you met each other in elementary school and still going strong in high school. His love only grew stronger each time you would laugh, each time you would smile, or just any time you were in the same room as each other.

Sure Peter had a few other little crushes here and there, but only because he confused the feeling of friendship and love. Because you both knew each other since you were both young and always called each other best friends he thought that the love he had for you was actually just friendship. But when he had met Liz and MJ, he believed that the feeling of friendship was actually love.

It was not until Ned had told him what his love was like with Betty did Peter realize that the feeling of friendship to you was actually the feeling of true love.

And when he figured it out, he felt like shit; and like a huge fucking idiot.

He started getting more and more nervous around you, scared of scaring you off or by being too boring so when you would talk, he tried to keep things from going off topic, before he could start rambling about something completely random.

You sighed heavily, regretting your last few actions. You didn’t want to make your self look stupid in-front of the Spider-man, but more importantly you didn’t want to make yourself look stupid in-front of Peter, the person you loved the most.

Peter eyed you carefully, not wanting to ruin anything either, then his stomach growled.

‘Oh shit’ he immediately thought. His checks got pink quickly and you looked at him and smiled understandingly, knowing with his fast metabolism that he had to eat more than everyone else just to have enough energy.

“Um what do we do if we are hungry?” Peter asked the others on the other side in the hotel hallway.

“Yeah Peter is right I didn’t have dinner yet and I'm starving.” You added.

“There is some food in the desk drawer and water in the mini fridge that I left for you both just incase.” MJ said.

Peter darted to the desk drawer and pulled out box of goldfish and then to the mini fridge and grabbed the water. He tossed you the water and sat on the bed, and you followed sitting next to him.

“MJ NED AND I ARE GONNA GO, HAVE FUN.” Yelled Flash.

“Wait don’t leave!?” You and Peter yelled at the same time, running to the door and tried to open but it was locked shut.

“Goodbye you two” MJ said in a mocking tone.

You and Peter stayed silent for the next few seconds, listening to their footsteps getting quieter until they were gone.

“What should we do now?” You asked Peter and you looked at him. He had flushed cheeks, and a raised brow. Clearly panicked, trying to think of sometime to do.

“I could-uh kick the door down with my super strength?” Peter suggested. You mulled it over for a bit then realized what the consequences would be.

“If you kick down the door people would wonder how two 16 year olds were able to knock down a door that is bolted. And it would leave me and MJ without a door which would mean we would have to pay for it.” You replied, still anxious and worried you hurt his feelings, but in response he nodded his head understandingly.

Truth is he only wanted to kick down the door to try and impress you. He knew what the consequences would be, but if you told him to do it and if he knew that it could improve his chances with you, he would do it in a heart beat.

But he knew that because you said no, he thought you would give him attitude as he knows how stubborn you are.

“We could try figuring out what these magic words are?” You asked.

“Ok, well the question is how do we approach this problem? Do we think of it as a riddle or more of a memory kind of question?” He was standing up and starting to pace.

“Do we even know if they’re even magic words?” You said, it was supposed to be joke but then you and Peter looked at each other and realized this could all just be payback from your prank war earlier this year.

Last month you, Peter, MJ, and Ned all created ‘The Prank War’. The idea was that you would pick a name out of a hat to be your partner, and you would try to pull pranks on the other team OR try and pull and prank on Flash just because as MJ so greatly said, ‘he’s a fuckin’ asshole that deserves to have his 3 inch dick turn into a 1 inch.” Which you completely agreed with, but it did leave Peter and Ned crossing their legs but they still nodded in agreement.

You and Peter had come up with a prank that would go perfectly, it involved Ned, MJ, and Flash (doubly points baby) and had ended with you and Peter laughing and the rest with stained clothes and flash with a baled spot.

“Shit, I knew Flash would want revenge for that, probably told MJ about it and then they roped Ned into it too.” Peter said.

“But it was so funny! I still have the photo” You smiled at the memory and Peter sat back down on the bed with you, also smiling

“Me too and do you remember the look on his face when he felt the bald spot? It was hilarious” Peter added.

The memory made both of you laugh and before you knew it, both of you were talking about anything and anyone, completely forgetting your fear of embarrassing yourself infant of the other.

“We should probably get comfortable until they hopefully come in the morning” Peter said, eyeing the clock. “Its 2 am and neither of us slept last night and we have to wake up at 9.”

Now that part, ‘get comfortable’ made your cheeks burn. You looked around the room and realized, “there is only one bed” you said. Peter now just realizing this looked around the room and then looked at the ground. And you did the same.

Because this trip was paid by the school, they got the worlds biggest shit-hole of a hotel that looked like it's gone through and survived multiple wars, but hasn’t been cleaned since the first one.

“The floor is disgusting and there is no couch, we are gonna have too...share the bed.” You admitted, hesitating slightly. Someone had to say it but the last few words didn’t sit right with you so you jumped up, “I’m going to get ready for bed and brush my teeth, and there are some sweatshirts of yours that I stole from you so you can wear that to bed.”

You grabbed your t-shirt and sweats that you normally slept in and went into the bathroom and closed the door, a sigh of relief filling your mind.

You brushed your teeth, washed your face and gave yourself a pep-talk in the mirror.

This is nothing to panic about, it's just a nap, you have fallen asleep next to Peter before, the only difference is this is intentional and you are not on a subway ride coming home from a concert.

“Y/n? Are you decent? Can I come in?” Peter knocked on the door.

You opened the door and Peter was standing in his sweatshirt and his sweats from before. You moved out of the way and allowed him to enter the tiny bathroom and you went to enter the main part of your room.

You looked at your phone for a bit, then started to spam MJ telling you to let her out but all she replied with was, ‘if you text me one more time I’m going to block you, then you're really gonna be suck in there ’. You sighed tossing your phone aside.

“Were you trying to text Mj?” Peter asked, “I tried Ned a minute ago and realized he’s probably asleep by now”

“Yeah, Mj threatened to block me.” You said. “And knowing her I don’t want to risk it.”

Peter yawned causing you to yawn also. “Maybe we should get some sleep” Peter suggested.

“Definitely, I feel like how I did when we watched the entirety of The lord of the rings and star wars over the weekend.” You said.

“But if I remember correctly you weren’t so tired when Anakin and Padame were on screen”

“Because they're both amazing and I love their characters dynamic. I mean, Anakin went to the dark side out of his love for Padame, and even in the end Padame still loved him because she knew he was doing this because someone used their love agents him and this was not who Anakin really is, just an extreme version of what he will do for their love. But it is still kinda stupid to go to the dark side, the side that Padame is completely against all for her” You stated defensively. You’ve done this rant before but Peter was not believing it.

“I think it's because you have a crush on them.”

“Maybe, or maybe I just like the idea of someone loving me to the point they would do anything to save our love” You dramatically stated.

oh, Peter thought, I would do anything for you too.

“But then again if I were a Jedi I would go to the dark side just to get the cool red lightsaber and to get some cool black clothing with one of those dramatically long capes that make you look like a cool villain so I guess I should not really talk about someones reasons going to the dark side.” You and Peter both started laughing.

“Oh no y/n if I was a Jedi I don’t want to have to dual you” Peter said in return and he walked over to the left side of the bed and sat down. With you sitting down on the right side.

“Oh please you’re just saying that because you know I would beat you in a fight”

“Are you forgetting who the superhero is in this room?”

“Yeah yeah whatever, I would still win because my dramatically long cape would intimidate you too much.”

When the childish bickering calmed down, you just stared at each other.You hesitantly lied down onto the bed and Peter did the same.He pulled down the covers and you both tucked yourselves under.

“Do you think that Ned, MJ and Flash are gonna open the door tomorrow?” Peter asked, trying to make it less awkward

“I don’t think they can compete when not everyone is there so probably.”

You both tried to get comfy and eventually you both fell asleep.

You woke up and the clock read 3 am, you took in your surroundings. You were on your quiz team trip to DC and you had been locked in a room with Peter and your feeling kinda warm and-

Oh my god

In the hour you both had been asleep you both had moved to the middle of the bed your hands were entwined and as you moved your hand and your body away, Peter woke up.

“Hey what’s going on?” Peter said sitting up a bit and rubbing his eyes.

“Oh uh, I woke up and we were close and I felt bad because I move a lot in my sleep and I didn’t want to bother you so I was just trying to move away and-”

You were cut off by Peter resting his hand on yours.

“You never bother me. You can’t, it’s impossible.” Peter asked. His face was a little pale like, he was scared of something, but he was also clearly tired.

“Thanks Peter that means a lot, but I just didn’t want to bother you when your-” you were cut off again but not by Peters hand on yours, but rather, his lips on yours.

You were shocked and could not process what was happening and he pulled away.

“Y/n I'm so sorry I didn’t mean to I just, the temptation was too strong and you look very nice and--well you always look nice but I have wanted to kiss you for a very, very-” and now it was your turn to cut him off.

You kissed him, and he kissed back. Your hands went to his hair and his hand went to your back to hug you and bring you even closer.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for awhile too” You finally said

“Ok, wow, um, I’m really glad I built up the nerve kiss you, I think that was the best thing I have ever done in my entire life.” Peter said smilingly, still holding you close, foreheads touching.

“Are you sure because last time I check I would have thought becoming a crime-fighting superhero and meeting Tony Stark would have been it?” You said sarcastically.

“I could see how you think that but I have really liked you since, I don’t know, I think when we met when we were 7? So I have liked you since I was 7 so I’ve wanted to kiss you for over half of my life.”

“Awe that’s sweet” You responded by kissing him again and then hugging him. “I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in my life.”

“Yes I am the sweetest guy here. Also... I would like to ask you on a date to be my girlfriend? If you are ok with that?” Peter asked, you both had pulled away from the hug and he was now twiddling with his thumbs, something he only does when he is nerves.

“Yes Peter I would love that.” You replied

He smiled and pulled you into a close and tight hug. “I’m gonna be super pissed if we go back to bed this ends up being a dream and none of this ever happened.” Peter said then realizing, “And I’m not suggesting we do something inappropriate-”

Peter was cut off by your laughter, “what’s so funny y/n?”

“Well, no matter if this is a dream or not, I know I will most defiantly still want to date you. And two at most we are cuddling, it's not like we are having sex, and besides we have know each other since we were 7, so we already know everything about one another. So don’t worry Peter” You looked at him with loving eyes.

Peter pulled you closer and you both started leaning back down towards the pillows. Your head was resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around each other and legs tangled with one another.

It was blissful,

It was perfect,

It was the happiest place you both could be.

The next day you and Peter were waken up by harsh whispers and giggles. Peter and you looked up, and there standing at the foot of the bed was, Ned, MJ and Flash. All with their cameras out and cheesy smiles.

“Looks like you two had a fun night last night” Flash said, trying and failing to move his eyebrows up and down.

You got a pillow from behind you and threw it at him. It hit him right in his crotch, causing him to bend over in pain. He got the hint and left.

“No but really what did you guys do last night?” MJ asked.

“Y/n and I just talked and then fell asleep next to each other, we do it all the time what’s the problem with that?” Peter asked, he didn’t want to tell his friends group what really happened last night, at least not until after everyone gets back to Queens.

“Also what was the magic words?” You asked, still puzzled by the insane they had come up with while also trying to change the conversation.

“Oh that, it was just a way for you both to confess your undying love for one another.” MJ stated bluntly. “And it worked.”

Ned and MJ smiled, but you and Peter looked at each other confused.

“How do you know?” Peter asked

“Well, first of all how you guys were sleeping” Ned pulled up the photo of your too sleeping together, “looked like you too got extremely close.”

You and Peter stared in shock. Questions coming one after another.

“How did you know we liked each other?” You asked

“Because of the way you talked to each other, you both seemed to be in so much love, you just needed…” Neds words trailed off.

“… a push” MJ finished. “Well, you guys need to get ready for the competition today, so we will see you too love birds down in 10”

Ned and MJ left the room, with Ned dropping off Peters uniform on his way out.

“That was the weirdest shit to ever happen to me” Peter concluded, “and I got bitten by a radioactive spider.”

#peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man x you #spider-man x y/n #peter parker x oc #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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shyficwriter · 3 years ago

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Ok, you guys seemed to like my Avatar Powers meets GOTG post, so here's a list of scenes that have been in my head about it lately (And there are a lot lol, I tried to keep them short and brief.) If I think of more I'll add them in a reblog (Because I think I forgot a couple... lol) I put the couple of darker ones at the end complete with content warnings for those who don't wish to see them!

Scenes are under the cut, enjoy!

Scene 1 (Mischievous Reader with Avatar-Like/Elemental Powers:

The Guardians of the Galaxy are walking through a forest when Peter stops to carve his and Gamora's initials into a tree, trying to be romantic. Just before knife touches bark he gets pinged on the back of the head with a pebble. Naturally, he accuses Rocket, which makes Rocket angry because it actually wasn't him. Someone swears they can hear a faint giggle, which is also blamed on Rocket, which he of course denies. This keeps happening until Peter gets so frustrated he turns and is about to yell at Rocket when suddenly all the dewdrops lift into the air. It's beautiful, and the team are mesmerized as the droplets start to float around, merging and forming into larger orbs of water. The team is so mesmerized that they barely notice that an orb has positioned itself over each of their heads- until the orbs suddenly drop, soaking them in the process. Wet and cranky, Peter says something rude, and receives a swat on the ass, which he's about to yell at Rocket for before someone asks, "Was that... a vine?" Now they can hear more poorly muffled giggles... but wait... are they coming from... above them? Rocket, tired at having been blamed for the rocks and cranky about all his fur being wet, takes off after the sound, climbing up into the trees. You see him coming and with a strangled yelp you try to hide behind a trunk, but Rocket announces that he saw you, so you instead take to hoping to other branches and other trees, Rocket giving chase. The others below can barely see what's happening, but they can tell Rocket is chasing something or someone through the canopy. Peter makes a comment insulting/teasing Rocket for not being able to catch up, and receives another swat. Rocket sees this and baits Peter into saying more insults to him, which results in more swats and thrown pebbles. He also sees how when you are able to hear Mantis complain about being cold, you make a motion with your hands before jumping away from him again which pulls all the water off the team and deposits it on the ground. This amuses Rocket and he decides maybe you aren't so bad, and stops chasing, calling a truce. Peter, who is still cranky at being on the receiving end of most of your mischief, complains. You gather all the previous water and throw it at him, making Rocket laugh his ass off. Eventually you come down to see what they want from "your" forest.

Scene 2 (Ice Powers):

You're already part of the Guardians of the Galaxy team, and one day they discover you have Elsa-like ice powers when on a job on an icy planet one of the others sees you effortlessly lift an icy slab with the wave of your hand when you think no one is looking. They follow you, amazed, as you search a cave, effortlessly moving more ice, creating steps out of ice where there were none, basically what Elsa does when following the voice in Frozen 2 lol

Scene 3 (Invading your Forest):

Yondu's crew is trekking through a forest, hunting the bounty of someone they tracked there. His men are telling spooky stories about a spirit that lives in that particular forest that hunts anyone who trespasses, and a couple of them (*cough* Kraglin) get freaked out by the story alone. Yondu brushes it off and tells the men that there is no such thing in that forest and to just finish the job. Imagine his surprise when his men begin to cry out because the dirt has encased their feet to pin them in place as vines travel higher up their bodies to restrain their arms. He looks at Kraglin, the two of them both confused at wtf is happening, and also why the two of them have been spared of this fate. He follows Kraglin's startled gaze and turns around to see you, hands gently moving as you control the foliage. He goes to whistle but you quickly wrap a vine around his mouth, silencing him before he can fully draw a breath. Kraglin attempts to pull out his blaster, but you just restrain him too with some tree branches. You step forward calmly, asking Yondu what business he has in your forest.

Scene 4 (Avengers are after you):

You're in Central Park, hiding in the shadows of some trees (performing the same water trick as in the first scene) only you don't know you're being watched. Fury has his eye on you and is watching you with curiosity. This was supposed to be the vigilante they were tracking down? The person who has been hunting down muggers and abusers, terrorizing them with the elements, and then trapping them with said elements in semi-public areas for the police to find with detailed descriptions of their crimes? You looked... weaker than they expected, given what you were able to inflict, and here you sat. Just casually spinning sparking dew drops around the amazed people in the park as if you were bored. Maybe you aren't the person? Perhaps you're just connected to the real vigilante somehow? Then it happens. Some guy starts yelling at kid who accidentally bumped into him while catching a baseball. Suddenly all the dewdrops stop floating whimsically, freezing in place for an instant before darting to collect over the man's head. The kid sees this and quickly backs away with wide eyes, leaving the man to wonder what he's looking at before looking up himself. Then the giant blob of water crashes down right on his head, leaving him spluttering and confused and very wet. Ok, so maybe they do have their vigilante.

Fury approaches you from behind and makes a quip about what he's just seen, startling you. You whip around and Fury raises his hand and states that he's not there to harm you, but you do need to come with him. He knows what you did, and if you come willingly no harm will come to you. Obviously you have no intention of just following the orders of a strange man who seems to be there to arrest you, so you run. Fury has anticipated this, and has the Avengers on standby. The first people you notice chasing you are Black Widow and Captain America. You manage to stop them by busting a fire hydrant and freezing their feet to the pavement. This only slows Cap down, who breaks free, but it does put a decent amount of distance between you for a bit. He manages to chase you to a dead end. Assuming you have no where to go, he allows himself to slow to a walk, trying to talk you down as he approaches the brick wall you stand against. You aren't listening. To Cap's amazement, you pull bricks out of the wall to create stepping stones, which you quickly begin to run up. Cap tries to follow, but just as quickly you close the steps behind you back into the wall so that he may not. You finally make it to the top of the building, and allow yourself a couple seconds to rest on the roof. You hear a voice to your left, and it's the Winter Soldier. Shit. You back towards the edge of the roof, exhausted by this point, asking him to please just leave you alone. As expected, he can't, but he does approach gently, seeing you eye the edge. He tells you it's better to just come willingly, but again, you don't listen. You hop up on the edge wall of the building. He holds his hands up and tells you to think a minute, assuming you are about to jump. He's right, but what he doesn't know is that you spotted a running gutter spout, and before you jumped you froze the water coming out into a little road of sorts. You land on it and begin to slide down it Tarzan style as the Winter Soldier stands looking stunned as he peers from the edge of the roof. You think you are finally free, but out of nowhere something slams into you, knocking you off your little icy track. Only you don't fall. In fact, you are flying. Spiderman has snatched you right off the track and he's swinging with you to who knows where. You yell at him to let you go, but all he does is apologize and say he can't. You struggle, but come up with an idea. You reach up to grab his web and summon your energy. You light fire to his web and pull a giant gust of wind to push the two of you onto the roof of the nearest building, catching Spiderman off-guard and causing him to release you upon impact. With the aid of a leaky rooftop garden pipe, you trap him in a similar way to Widow, careful to avoid his shooting webs as you run to the other end of the roof. You look around for a way to escape, when you spot an umbrella that someone must have left behind. You'll look like Mary Poppins, but it'll work. You open the umbrella and hop off the roof, controlling the air around you to give you a gentle landing.

Or it would have been, had you not been snatched out of the air yet again, this time by Iron Man. You attempt to use the umbrella for drag, but the force of his thrusters is more powerful than your tired mind and body can work against, and the umbrella rips from your hands. You attempt to bend something in his suit, but you are only really good at bending iron, and there is apparently none in this "Iron Man's" suit, as you come to find out when he teases you for trying. There's only two other options, and with now flying very high in the air, you don't dare try them lest you end up killing you both. He takes you all the way to the top of Stark Tower, where Fury is now waiting. You're now just too tired to fight them anymore, and realize you have no choice but to go willingly and see what they want.

Scene 5 (Ravagers have caught up with you):

The Ravagers have chased you far and wide, but now you're cornered. You don't know what bounty must be on your head, or what for, all you know is that you don't want to go wherever they may take you. Seeing no options left, you turn to them, using the only power you see fit to halt them, even if you don't particularly like to use it. Blood bending. Yondu's men freeze at his sides, dropping their weapons. You don't have enough energy to hold them all, so Yondu remains free. You attempt to make this appear purposeful, but there's no telling if he buys it. Yondu whistles, and an arrow flies to meet your throat, hovering just inches away. He demands you free his men from whatever it is you're doing to hold them. Straining, you control Kraglin's limbs. You make him reach and grab the blaster from his hip, and you make him aim it at Yondu's head. You tell Yondu that if he doesn't pull back his arrow and take leave with his men, you'll make his first mate pull the trigger. Kraglin begins to tear up and whimper, telling Yondu he's sorry, that it isn't him, and begging you to not make him do it. Please, don't make him kill his Captain. Please- Yondu only smirks. He can see the slight tremor in you. He's sure he knows the real reason you didn't put a hold on them all. "Gettin' tired are we?" he asks, chuckling. You don't answer, partially not to give him the satisfaction, and partially because you are indeed starting to lose your grip. It's too much, holding onto all these men, and you were already tired from running. "Please, I just want to be left alone." Your lids start to get heavy, and you almost drop your hold on one of the men, only to snap back up and regain it. "Just leave me be, and I'll let your men go." Yondu chuckles. Says he has a feeling that he doesn't need to worry about it for long. As if on cue to prove him right, you drop to your knees. It's taking everything you have to hold his men, who have gathered the situation and are fighting harder against your hold, Kraglin most of all. Yondu starts to step forward, and the last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is his chuckling and relieved gasps from his men as you finally lose your grip and collapse.

Scene 6 (You have been captured by the Guardians Team)

The team knows what you are and what you are capable of, and so that's why when they captured you they made sure to place you in a cage made of clean, dried wood- no elements for you to bend and free yourself. You fought them tooth and nail (or rather water and fire) to avoid capture, but you were ultimately undone by a strategic hit by one of Rocket's stun guns. Needless to say, you were pissed when you woke up. The only thing on your mind was escape, you didn't care that you were currently on a ship in the middle of space. You spot someone's unattended drink on a console and weigh the pros and cons of using the liquid to cut through the bars. Biggest con is that it would take a lot of energy and likely take way too long. Next best option? Dump it on the console and hope it makes a spark you can control. You'll burn your way out. The Guardians are alerted that something is amiss when they see smoke coming from the hold and they immediately run to see what's happened. But it doesn't matter, you're free.

Scene 7 (Captured by Wakanda)

You're not exactly sure what they wanted with you, you just knew they weren't interested in putting up much of a fight. You had barely knocked a few Dora over with a gust of wind when you felt someone grab your arms, pull them behind you, and slapped cuffs on, announcing in a triumphed voice that those were vibranium cuffs, and it was over. You follow obediently after that, and they lead you before the king. Before you can ask what it is that they want with you, he starts in on a long winded speech about how they know what you can do, and a list of what you assume they believe to be your crimes. It doesn't take too long of this before you get bored, and during a pause of his speech you snap up straight and stomp down one foot, sending all the Dora's spears rocketing up and embedding themselves in the ceiling. Everyone looks at you in shock. You weren't supposed to be able to bend vibrainium, and general Okoye calls it a nice trick, but you better knock it off, in case you forgot you were still trapped in their cuffs. Trying to hold back a laugh you pull the opened cuffs from behind you and hold them up. "Actually, I got out of these 20 minutes ago. Do we really have to keep going with this whole spiel, or will you guys just tell me what you want already?"

Scene 8 (Thor's Hammer):

You're alone and bored in Stark tower. You're a new recruit, hired for your uncanny ability as a sniper. No one knows your true skill is your ability to bend the bullets. You're walking around when you come to a common area. Today is the day when you're going to have your first meeting and meet the rest of the Avengers, since the only ones you know are Widow and Hawkeye. You laugh seeing what you believe to be a replica of Thor's hammer sitting on the coffee table, and mentally tease Tony for being such a nerd. Feeling safe in your solitude, you decide to have some fun, lifting various metal objects into the air and spinning them in an orbit around you. One of these objects is the replica hammer. You slowly spin them around for a few moments until you hear a voice. Your blood runs cold. You hadn't heard the person come in, and even worse was the fact that you had been keeping your ability to bend, especially metal, a secret out of fear that someone may want to experiment on you. You turn around and your heart about stops. It's Thor, the God of Thunder himself. The metal objects clatter around you when he asks how you were able to levitate his hammer. His hammer. That meant it wasn't a replica. That means- Oh no. You assume he's about to be mad you messed with it, and not knowing what to expect from a literal god you start to back away, stammering that you're sorry, that it'll never happen again. You're too freaked out to notice that he's not angry, just surprised and looking for answers. It doesn't take long for your back to hit against one of the large windows and Thor can see a bit of panic on your face as it appears you're trying to weigh your options of escape. Before he can tell you it's alright he sees the window start to shimmer behind you, and you're only backing into it. Concerned for your safety, and certain you don't realize what's happening behind you, he lunges forward in attempt to pull you away so you don't fall the 10 floors down to your death. Doing this only startles you, however, and you jump right through the window as if the glass was naught but water, and Thor looks in horror as you stand on the ledge outside the window, catching your balance and looking down. Thor attempts to reach through the window to pull you back in, but in a startled response you make the window solid again, trapping his hand. Thor, certain that you're about to fall to your death, looks out the window to a peculiar sight. You're absolutely fine. In fact, you are running down the side of the tower via steps you have pulled out of the concrete. Eventually you make your way back inside by slipping though the window of an empty hall the same way you went out, and after a moment to think you sheepishly made you way back up to that common area to try to win favor with the god by setting him free if he had not already done so himself. Thor was in good spirits about it after the two of you talked it through, though he does tease you about it in private from time to time.

Darker scenes (Content warning for violent revenge against abusers and mentions of sexual assault. Stop reading now if this will trigger you. Always keep yourself safe first):

The Guardians are in a bar drinking and having fun. Suddenly all the drinks in the bar rise from their glasses and pin one man against the wall. Everyone is shocked, and those who go to help the man are fought back with sharp lashes of liquid. A light bursts overhead, and the sparks seem to have a life of their own as they land just so, burning the front of his shirt away. The alcohol traces itself into a word on his chest, and when combined with one of the sparks, burns the word "Rapist" into his chest. Now the patrons are still confused, but now no one is trying to help him. No one lifts a finger as his liquid-y bonds release themselves only to force themselves down his throat, into his lungs. They all stand in silence as he chokes his last breaths. No one knows what to make of this, no one knows what to do. No one notices you, silent tears running down your cheeks, as you quietly slip out. A few weeks go by when the Guardians come across a bounty. The friends of the guy figured they knew who had something to do with his demise, and put a price on their head to be handed over alive. Accompanying this bounty is security camera footage of you that night at the bar, sitting quietly at a table while the rest of the patrons panic around you, mascara running down your cheeks as you focus intently on the man. The team doesn't need to think about it. They'll find you alright, but only for your protection. No way in hell would they think to turn you over to friends of your obvious abuser.

(Inspired by the scene from AHS: Coven) Peter decides to take the team out for drinks, but sometime during the night you go missing. They're looking for you when suddenly a loud commotion can be heard from the back of the bar. They run to a back room of the bar to find the wall blown out, you standing shakily in front of several men who are gathering themselves up. One of them calls you a crazy bitch and pulls out a blaster, the other men follow suit. The team watches as you sob and raise your hands, but not in surrender. Suddenly the men seize up, as if they can no longer control their own limbs. They cry out, unsure what is happening to them. A larger audience has gathered now, but you don't notice. Your only focus is pain, and keeping control on bending all these men's blood at once. They follow your motions, lowering their weapons, before raising them again. You mime raising a gun to point below your chin, and they follow suit with their own, very real guns. Their eyes widen as their heads tilt back from the pressure of the weapons against their jaws. Realizing what is likely to come, the men panic, pleading for their lives, pleading for others to help them, but your audience is too stunned to move. It's clear to the team what you are about to do, and Gamora urges for you to stop. You only whimper out, "They... hurt me..." in response. "I know," Gamora says, voice cracking. Only she doesn't know, she can only imagine. She doesn't reason that these men don't deserve what you intend to do, only that the law won't see it as justified. Rocket chimes in, concern in his voice. He knows that if you murder these men, justified or not, in front of all these people, your friends won't be able to save you from the NOVA Corp when they come for you. You continue to sob, and your friends continue trying to reason with you, to talk you down. Your grip on the men is weakening, and you have a choice to make. Do you pull the trigger were it lays, or do you let the guns fall, and just maim them instead?

#gotg #atla #avengers #wakanda #guardians of the galaxy #fluff #x reader #imagine #thor imagine #avengers imagine #gotg imagine

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cardiophileanonymous · 4 years ago

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Short Thorquill Drabble: Clear!

AU where the guardians take one Electro, someone with electric powers similar to Thor. He is an alien race considered gods like asgardians. I know he’s a goofy Spider-Man villain but I couldn’t find many other electric villains in the marvel universe lol so just roll with it.

...

“Ha,” Electro quietly laughed. “A GOD of thunder? You’re barely even a child, let alone a deity!”

Thor was backed up to a corner, well, more of a cliff. Quill looked up, frantically waving his arms to get the attention of the men above him.

“Thor!” His shouts fell on deaf ears as the blonde man was too busy focusing on his opponent to notice. He glanced at a broken statue before him. “Rocket, what are these statues made of?”

Rocket shrugged.

“I dunno, silver maybe? But that doesn’t matter right now!”

Without explaining himself, Quill grabbed a long stick like piece that had broken off.

“Hey asshole!” The villain looked down. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you! If you really have such amazing lightning powers, why’ve I never seen you use em?!” He lifted up the long rod as if it was a sword.

Rocket’s jaw dropped in fear. He was pretty sure he had a good idea of what he was planning, and Peter had done far more stupid things in the past. He still whispered to him, determined to say his piece and not let his friend at least know what a suicide mission this was.

“Quill, are you crazy?! Silver is the most conductive metal in existence!”

Instead of backing down, the man stood up straighter.

“At least Thor shows his ‘pathetic’ powers! You haven’t! That’s cuz’ you’re not nearly as good as him!”

Thor shook his head.

“Quill-”

The villain finished his sentence.

“I have no need to prove myself to you or any other mortal!”

Quill shrugged and began to speak in a condescending, taunting manner.

“Then, go ahead! Strike me down, Zeus!” The villain turned his attention back to Thor, but he still looked down in the corner of his eye. The human smiled, a nervous smile from fear. He had to get his attention back quick, else Thor would be toast. “YOU DON’T HAVE THE BALL-”

With that, the villain turned, throwing a full speed lightning bolt at Quill. He jumped up from the electrocution immediately.

“QUILL!”

The call came from both Rocket and Thor. Rocket was almost frozen with fear. Meanwhile, Thor has the opposite reaction, taking his large battle axe and swiping along Electro’s feet with the long handle, causing him to fall on his side.

...

Rocket wasn’t sure what he should be doing, but dammit, he was gonna do his best. He had been trying chest compressions for the past few minutes, but with his smaller size he wasn’t sure if he was getting it done properly. Thor ran up to them.

“Rabbit! Is Quill-”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket lifted his head.

“I’m tryin, alright?! Listen, there’s still a pulse!”

Thor perked up.

“There is?!”

“Yeah but it’s way too slow and irregular! I’m trying to get it back to normal, but…”

Thor suddenly got an idea. He nudged Groot out of the way and kneeled down next to Rocket, in front of Quill.

“I have an idea. I saw something back on Earth. I think I can help.”

He shooed him away and opened up Peter’s jacket before ripping off his shirt. He put his hands on his chest. Rocket couldn’t help but keep butting in through the whole thing.

“Wait, what what? What are you doing?”

Thor gave a clear warning.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He didn’t know how much was too much. Or too little for that matter. He focused, putting a small electric surge through Peter’s body. His chest convulsed up involuntarily before lying still again. Rocket jumped up, yapping uncontrollably.

“What are you doing, trying to kill him faster?!”

“What is his pulse now?”

Rocket brought his paw up to Quill’s neck to check. He gave Thor an odd look.

“...better than before.” He quickly started chest compressions again. “But still not good enough. His heart’s all outta whack.”

Thor looked to the side. After a few more moments of chest compressions, he brought his hands back down again.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

He did a similar shock this time. He tried to amp it up a little bit more, just enough so he wouldn’t hurt him and return his heart to his normal rhythm. The body jumped up before falling again. Rocket monitored Peter’s pulse again before returning to chest compressions.

“Better, but it’s still, irregular, dammit!”

Thor put a hand to Peter’s wrist while Rocket continued on with his attempt at cpr. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was irregular. The odd thumping sent a chill up his spine. Still, it seemed to get slightly better with Rocket continuing to do what he was doing.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Thor sent another surge of electricity, raising the power up again this time. But this would be the most powerful he was willing to do. Any more, and he was positive he’d be hurting him far more than helping.

Rocket continued with chest compressions. His heart rate was better, but not by much. Thor was beginning to get worried.

“Stand back, Rabbit.”

Another surge. Quill’s whole body convulsed. Rocket shook his head, frantically pushing his chest at a consistent rate.

“A big lightning bolt did this, why can’t a big lightning bolt put it back?!”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“I know it doesn’t work like that! But…” Rocket began to get tired. He looked down, scared that Quill would never come to. “...but I wish it did.” He slowed down, and slowly came to a stop, before kneeling down. He looked like he was genuinely going to cry. Thor sighed, recalling all the previous friends he’d seen die in battle. He didn’t want this to be another one of those memories.

“Stand back, Rabbit. I’m going to try this one more time.”

He sent one more surge of electricity, hopeful that this time, Quill would open his eyes. After his body stiffened then returned to a relaxed state, Thor took a keen look at his face. He didn’t move an inch. The god finally looked down in defeat. His eyes turned to Rocket and Groot, who were already partially mourning. They would no doubt carry him back to the ship, and subsequently to a hospital, but the ship wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes. By then it’d likely be far too late.

Suddenly, Peter stirred. He groaned a little before sitting up. He looked at everyone.

“What… happened…?”

Rocket started laughing hysterically, something he was doing to stop himself from crying. It was a very sad laugh as a result.

“YOU GOT STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, YOU IDIOT!”

Suddenly, Quill’s memories started coming back to him. That’s right! He had pissed Electro off enough into zapping him. But that was strange, because the shock he got from him seemed like it happened ages ago. And he could’ve sworn he came to a couple times from a different kind of electricity.

“But… I thought I just felt zapping.” He looked down and noticed his clothes. “And what happened to my shirt? Was this all from the electric shock?”

Thor lifted his head up in pride.

“I just used my powers to send a large electric current through your heart!”

Quill looked at him with a confused smile before frowning with an open mouth.

“You WHAT?”

“It’s like a technology they have on Earth. A ‘defibrillator’. It puts your heart back to a ‘normal rhythm’.”

Rocket shrugged.

“I mean, it did do that. Your heart rate was waaay worse before Thor started zappin’ ya.”

Quill was speechless. Of course, the first thing going through his mind was holy shit this idiot could’ve just fried me a million times over right now and I could’ve been long dead, did he even know what he was doing?! But then he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He wasn’t dead. Yeah, he was more than worse for wear, but that’s to be expected of someone who just got struck by powerful electricity. In fact, if Thor hadn’t gotten the idea to use his own hands to revive him, was it possible he could’ve died?

…

Later that night, Thor hung by the bar, laughing and joking with Drax and Rocket, as he usually did. This time, Peter joined them, and waited patiently for when Rocket and Drax decided to leave. He decided that after the other two were gone would finally be the time he’d swallow his pride. He knew he needed to say some sort of thank you. Not because of another crew mate telling him to or because his hand was forced. But out of genuine appreciation.

After Drax had left, Peter made a couple facial expressions at Rocket. The two had known each other well enough at this point that they were capable of having conversations without a single word. He indicated that he wanted to be alone with Thor and Rocket respectfully nodded and left the room. Once it was just the two of them sitting at the bar table, Peter finally cleared his throat.

“Thor.”

The god nodded.

“I guess… I just wanted to say… thank you.”

Thor seemed confused.

“Thank you?”

“Yes. For the whole shocking me, back to life, or whatever.”

“What? I should be thanking you!”

Peter turned his head to the side.

“Huh?”

“Yeah! If it weren’t for you distracting him, I’d have been finished!”

Quill’s confusion quickly turned into pride.

“Yeah…! You’re right!” He laughed, but his pride was shaky, and didn’t stay for long. After being face to face with death, again, now didn’t feel like the time to soak in praise unnecessarily. “...seriously though. Look, I know we don’t really get along, so the fact you saved me is just…” He couldn’t really convey the words, so he just reiterated his original point. “Thank you.”

Thor shrugged.

“Why shouldn’t I have? I feel I have been at your ire for no reason yet you risked your life for me in the first place.”

Quill felt like all his mental functions stopped for a moment as he registered what he was just told.

“Did I?”

“Well, what was that whole display?” Thor chuckled as he raised his bottle in the air, quoting Quill right before he got struck by lightning. “Come on, strike me down, Zeus!” He laughed at the previous sentence. “That line is actually pretty funny, since you turned out alive from this whole ordeal.”

Quill unconsciously started nodding.

“Yeah. I guess that is a funny line.”

He started to ponder, why did he do it? In his eyes, Thor was an annoying, rambunctious barbarian. He was always waiting for the day Thor would get off the ship, a day that never really came. Perhaps it was because he didn’t make a good first impression, maybe it was because he saw him as a rival for leadership. But despite all of that, there was no way in hell he deserved to die, so his heroism probably kicked in before any sort of jealousy or bitterness. Sure, literally asking to get struck by lightning was a less than eloquent way of going about saving him. But it was the best he could come up with in the heat of the moment. He snapped back to reality when Thor handed him a beer.

“How is your heart feeling?”

Peter grabbed the beer and looked him in the eyes, confused.

“Um, normal?”

“Well, what’s your heart rate?”

“Normal, I guess…? Like I don’t feel any different, so-”

Thor rolled his eyes, putting a hand on his wrist without question. After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled.

“It’s normal.”

Peter did his best not to move his hand back out of instinct. Was just randomly grabbing people’s wrists to check on their pulses a common thing among asgardians, or was this man just incredibly weird? Instead of saying anything, he tried his best to laugh it off.

“Well, that’s good.”

He swore he could still feel Thor’s fingers on his pulse long after he finally retracted his hand. It was a strange phantom touch that remained. It annoyed him a little bit, but at the same time, it was oddly… comforting? He took a few sips of his beer as Thor went to bed and he pondered when he ought to do the same.

youtube

#thorquill #peter quill #thor #cardiophilia #defibrillator #fluff #Youtube

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Iron 8 (Peter Parker x F!Oc)

A/N: I don't know if anyone got confused, I noticed it late, lol, but the actress that I take as Lily's reference will always be Mackenzie foy, Lily Collins is Jessica. Ok enjoy -Val

Warnings: panic attack, child abuse.

Words: 2, 944

Masterlist:

Chapter 7 / Chapter 9

"Please, answer,” Jess groans, her phone against her ear and with the emergency number sheet in her other hand.

"Who is it and why do you have my number?" Tony answers.

“Mr. Stark,” She sighs. “Thank God! I'm Jessica, Lily's babysitter,” Tony frowns when he hears the girl.

"What's going on?" He checks the clock in his room, calculating the time difference. It should be one in the morning there.

“I'm not sure, sir— We were sleeping and I heard her screaming. I-I thought she was having a nightmare,” She stops, controlling her breathing. “She was sweating and screaming. I tried to help her, but she ran away and—”

"Okay, you have to breathe. Where’s Lily?"

"She went down to the workshop, J.A.R.V.I.S won't let me in and says that her temperature is very high.”

Tony sighs, since Lily told him about the nightmares, he’d never been around and now he thinks that maybe their argument has something to do with it.

"Okay. Go to the workshop and put me on speaker.”

Jess takes the phone and obeys.

“Done."

"J.A.R.V.I.S, grant access to..."

“Jessica,” She adds.

"Access conceived,” answers the AI.

Jessica opens the door and is about to look for Lily, but Tony's voice stops her.

"Find her, leave the phone near her and get out of there.”

"What? What if she needs medical help?" She says deactivating the speaker. "Sir, something else happened when I tried to touch her, I’m afraid she’s hurt…”

"Trust me, she's not," He answers, seeing another small screen that is holding in his hand, projecting the girl's vital signs. "Do it.”

Tony hears movement. Jess sees the bulge under one of the cars and puts the phone on the ground, activates the speaker, and walks away from her.

"Kid?"

Lily knew Jess had found her, but hearing her father's voice makes her jump. She slowly turns around looking at the phone on the floor.

"Okay, I'm going to pretend you're listening to me,” He sits on the bed. "A nightmare, huh? I thought you hadn't had one for a long time,” He waits a few seconds, but gets no response.

Lily hugs her legs tighter. Tony sighs.

"Kid, come on, tell me something. Shows signs of life. I just want to help you…”

"I hurt her,” She says in a small voice.

"What?"

"I hurt Jess,” She says louder.

"It was not your intention, kid,” Tony answers.

“But I still did. I didn't want to, I'm sorry,” She says between sobs. Tony closes his eyes not knowing what to do. He’s about to call Pepper, but he remembers how stressed she has been since they arrived.

“It wasn't my intention. I didn't want to hurt anyone. It was the same with my mother and she left me. I don't want Jess to leave me,” She continues. She feels a strong pain in her chest.

"She won't go away—”

“You don't know that. She was scared. She has blisters and her hand was all red,” She cries. “I’m a monster!”

“Okay, this is what we’ll do, Lily. Where are you?”

"What?"

"Tell me where you are.”

"Under the blue car,” She frowns.

Tony ignores the fear that runs through his body with the possibility that the car might react badly to the high temperature.

"Get out of there. I need to hear you better.”

"I dont want to go outside…”

“Do what I tell you, please. I know what’s happening to you and it’s better if you get out of there.”

She obeys, grabs the phone with her shaking hands as she leans on one of the car's tires.

"And now?"

“I want you to do exactly what I tell you. Can do it?"

"I don’t know.”

“Yes you can, come on. You’ll breathe with me, it's simple. When I tell you one, inhale, and two, exhale slowly. We’ll do it together.”

"I don’t think that-"

“One," Tony interrupts and inhales making an exaggerated noise so that Lily knows what he's doing. There's no other option but to imitate it. “Two…”

They did so five more times. The pain in the girl's chest subsides and her shoulders relax.

“You're better?"

"Yes," She answers hoarsely.

"Okay. The nightmare. Do you wanna tell me?"

She bites the inside of her cheek and hugs her legs again.

“You'll feel better if you tell me.”

"How do you know?" She frowns.

"It has happened to me.”

"When?"

"When my parents— that's not important,” He checks his watch. He knows that Pepper is about to come in to urge him about dinner, lunch, or whatever they have planned.

Lily sighs.

“I was in a white room,” She says slowly. “I had a straitjacket, like the one they put on crazy people in the movies. No one was coming for me and I tried to scream, but I-I wanted to use my hands, nothing worked… You weren't there to help, or Happy, or Pepper, or Rhodey. I was alone…”

‘Why can’t she have nightmares about normal monsters in her closet…’ Tony thinks.

“Why aren’t you here?" Lily sobs. Tony feels an emptiness in his chest, he’d never felt that way before.

“Maybe you can't see me, Flower. But I’m there. I’m listening to you.”

"But I want to see you. I… I miss you, daddy."

"I miss you too, Flower,” He sighs. “I'm sorry for what I told you before I left. I wish you were here. At least it’d be more fun. I'm sick of hearing people ask me about the suit. One of them asked me why I’d chosen those colors as if they were the worst choice!”

"I chose them!” She answers offended. Tony smiles.

"I know. I like it like that.”

“Well, you could make another one blue. I also like blue,” She comments, looking at the other armor prototypes that are in the back of the workshop.

Tony can't help laughing.

"I'll think about it," He clears his throat. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes, but,” She wipes her nose. "What will happen to Jess? I don't want another babysitter.”

“I'll talk to her, but I can assure you that she’s more concerned about you than she is about herself.”

"Really?"

"She called me.”

Tony's bedroom door opens, but before Pepper can say anything to him, Tony points to the phone, gets out of bed, and walks away from the redhead.

“Dad?"

"Yes, Flower?" He says remarking the words for Pepper to understand. The redhead frowns.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you before you left. I just wanted to spend more time with you…”

"I understand, but you know that we can’t risk it.”

“Okay…”

"Hey, I have to go. Pepper's face is redder than my armor.”

For the first time in all that time, Lily laughs.

"It's fine.”

"See ya ', kiddo.”

"Goodbye, Dad.”

Lily hangs up. She hears footsteps approaching.

"Hi," Jess says sitting across from her.

"I'm sorry I hurt you,” whispers the girl.

"Are you okay?" Jess asks.

"I'm better.”

"Do you want to go up?"

"Won't you go? Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Why would I be afraid of my friend?”

"I hurt you.”

"It was not on purpose.”

“B-but it's not normal. You only touched me…”

“Yes, it’s rare, but it’s still an accident. I'm not going anywhere, Lily.”

Lily still doesn't understand why Jess is so calm, but she's too tired to keep asking. She just nods.

"Do you want to go up?" She asks, offering her good hand.

They both go back up to Lily's room.

"Can you sleep with me?" The girl asks.

“Sure."

They prepare the bed, but a call on Jess's cell phone interrupts. Mr. Stark.

"I'll be right back…”

Jess leaves the room and walks as far away as possible.

"Should I ask the same as the girl?”

"How is it possible that such a little girl suffers so much?"

“I'm not sure yet, but it has happened before. Now, do I have to hire another babysitter?"

"Will you tell me what’s wrong with her?"

"What would you do with that information?" Jess rolls her eyes.

"I just want to help her.”

Tony sighs.

"She was born with something strange and bad people wanted to take advantage of it.”

“So what she dreamed… It is a memory?"

"Did you hear it?"

“She screamed before she woke up. She begged not to be hurt.”

"Yes, they’re memories.”

Jess bites her lower lip. She turns over her shoulder to make sure Lily isn't listening.

"I have a theory.”

"I don't have much time, speak up.”

“Miss Potts warned me a bit about the nightmares, but I understand that they hadn't happened for a long time. Did you and Lily argue at other times before?”

"I don’t think so.”

“Don’t you think that the nightmares return when she doesn't feel the security that you give her? By not being home and knowing that you’re upset. They also told me that her mother abandoned her, fear makes her memories return.”

Tony doesn't respond for a few seconds.

"What degree are you studying?"

“Psychology."

Makes sense. I don't know, Miss Adams. But I’ll take it into account.”

“Okay, sir.”

***

After Mr. Stark explained a bit about what really happened, Jess felt scared, but not for her. The brunette had witnessed the very agony in the body of a little girl. She’s never lied by saying that she just wants to help her. She’ll never abandon Lily.

"Do you want to see a movie?" She asks from across the kitchen table.

"I have to do homework,” replies Lily scratching her eye wearily.

"I think you deserve a break.”

“Maybe…”

"Mr. Stark is in the news," reports J.A.R.V.I.S.

They both know what it means. Scandal. They run into the living room and turn on the television.

"Oh no…” says Lily.

She doesn't know what surprises her the most, her father driving a race car or the man with two energy whips trying to hurt him. Although her father got the Iron Man armor in time and was able to contain the villain, Lily knows that something else is going on and the comments from others don’t help. They all allude to Tony's opinión that the new technology that he invented no one else would have for a long time, and now an unknown man has succeeded.

***

Lily turns when someone knocks on her bedroom door. She smiles when she sees the colonel.

"Uncle Rhodey!" She squeals and runs to hug him. The man receives the hug with a smile.

"I hope you always receive me like this, Lily.”

"I can do it,” She replies as they part.

Rhodes sees the room now painted sky blue, some paintings as decoration, with each color and furniture it’s quite obvious that Lily was the one who chose everything, especially noting the vibrant colors that don’t match the rest.

"I like what you did with your room.”

"Thanks. Look!” She takes his hand and leads him to her desk. "I found a video of how to make the Iron Man reactor shape out of cardboard," She explains, pointing to the process.

Rhodes laughs heartily. It’s not the most accurate model in the world, but it is really impressive that Lily is already so detailed in her creations.

"Will you give it to Tony on his birthday?"

She nods. "Do you think he’ll like it?"

"I'm sure. This is pretty good,” He agrees. "How are you doing in school?"

"Good. It's kind of boring, but my teachers seem to have fun when I understand things quickly,” She shrugs.

"You should be happy too.”

"I guess, but… I don't know."

Rhodes frowns.

"I know that face, it's the same as Tony does. What's wrong?"

She turns to face him.

“I want to do more things, but everyone says I can't. Everything is dangerous or someone else can see me. I feel like those dolls trapped in a toy house.”

Rhodes sighs.

"I wish I could have a better answer,” He crouches down to look at her. “But all I can tell you is that it’ll be better once you’re older. I'm sure we'll have better options,” Lily seems disappointed with his words. The man makes a face. Then he comes up with something. “How about I talk to your father to start a little self-defense class? Do you remember the movies we saw?"

"That would be great!" She says smiling.

For James Rhodes, this made sense. He knows that Lily is still very young, but he also knows that Tony's world is very unpredictable, especially with what happened in Monaco. It would be a great opportunity for her to at least know how to defend herself.

"Well, I'll talk to him,” He says getting up.

“Oh, tell him that Natalie can teach me something! She promised!”

He looks at her confused, but doesn't take it too seriously.

“Okay… Do you know where your father is?"

"In the workshop, I'll take you,” She takes Rhodes's hand and they both walk towards the stairs of the workshop, but a corridor before Jarvis interrupts.

"Incoming call for Miss Stark.”

"Kid, I need you to do me a favor,” Tony’s voice says.

"What's going on?" She asks releasing Rhodes's hand.

"Do you remember the little screen I have to play with?" Although the last use of it was to infiltrate Senate screens, she usually uses it to play games.

“Aha..”

“It’s in my room. I want you to bring it.”

"Why don't you go get it?" Rhodes intervenes, annoyed.

"I'm busy— Wait, how long have you been here, Rhodey?"

"We need to talk.”

“I don't like that tone. Kid?"

"I'm coming!”

The girl goes to look for the screen while Rhodey follows the path to the workshop, ignoring Natalie's warning when he passes by the room where she’s with Pepper.

Rhodes walks into the shop, finding Tony looking at his projector for some files on him while he's sitting in one of his cars.

“Tony, you gotta get upstairs and get on top of this situation right now. And what’s that about, sending Lily to look for your toys?"

Tony doesn't respond, further exasperating the colonel.

“Listen. I've been on the puts with the National Guard on the day, trying to talk them out of rolling tanks up the PCH, knocking down your front door and taking these,” He says, pointing to the other armor prototypes. “They’re gonna take your suits, Tony. Okay? They’re sick of the games. You said nobody else would possess this technology for 20 years. Well, guess what? Somebody else had it yesterday.”

He walks towards him.

“It’s not theoretical anymore. And now can you imagine how all this would affect Lily? If the National Guard or anyone else in the government finds out about her, they’ll take her away without hesitation and they’ll all be against you. All this time you've kept her locked up, but you don't mind acting in a way that could affect her in the future.”

He stops at the side of the car.

“Are you listening to me?" He grabs his arm to get his attention. Tony is pale and tired. "Are you Okay?"

"Let's go,” answers Tony getting out of the car, but when he closes the door, he loses strength and almost falls to the ground. Rhodes helps him by holding him up.

"You all right?" He asks worried.

"Yeah, I should get to my desk,” They both walk with difficulty. "See that cigar box?" Rhodes nods. "It's palladium,” The colonel puts him on a chair and opens the box, revealing small blocks of material.

Tony pulls the reactor out of his chest and opens it, causing a block of Palladium to come out with some smoke.

"Is that supposed to be smoking?"

“If you must know, it's neutron damage. It's from the reactor wall,” explains Tony. Rhodes helps him switch blocks.

"You had this in your body?" Tony turns around. "And how about the high-tech crossword puzzle on your neck?" He points out.

"Road rash,” Tony puts the reactor back on as Rhodey watches him. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at you. You wanna do this whole lone gunslinger act and it's unnecessary. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“You know, I wish I could believe that. I really do. But you've gotta trust me. Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I'm doing."

"And what about Lily?" Rhodes asks. "Are you also hiding all this from her or what excuse do you give her?" He says thinking that Lily notices many details, especially about her father.

“Makeup isn't just for women, Rhodes. Update yourself, and she doesn't know about the Palladium, she doesn't need to know.”

"Will you hide everything she shouldn't know from her?"

“It's called protection. Something that you’ve asked me to do for her many times.”

"I don't think that lying is the solution.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

"Miss Stark is coming, sir," Jarvis warns.

Rhodes now understands Tony's request for the toy.

Someone enters the code to enter. Both men are silent. Tony hides the cigar box. Lily runs up to him and gives him the screen.

“Your room is messier than mine. It took me centuries to find it,” She complains.

"Thanks, kid.”

Lily watches Rhodes.

"What were you talking about?" She says tilting her head a little towards the colonel. Rhodey remembers his promise. He smiles.

"We haven't talked about your stuff yet, Lily.”

"What did I miss?" Tony asks.

"I think it's a good idea for Lily to take self-defense classes."

"With Natalie,” adds the girl.

Tony sighs.

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace @yourbonesareinmybody @aylauwuuniverse @skittles-skittles @hufflepuffzutara @poetryislife0715 @21bruhs @heavenlymistakes @my-love-of-books @dielgonacoffee

#Iron #Peter parker fanfction #Peter parker #Peter parker x oc #Peter parker x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #Tony Stark #Lily Stark #Stark! reader #Pepper Potts #James Rhodes #Iron Man 2 #Spider man

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ambivalent-anarchy · 4 years ago

Text

Body |Peter's Turn

Part 2 of 2 (Part 1 -> here)

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: none (suspicions of cheating but no actual cheating lol just a lotta funny miscommunication)

Anon requested- can I get a one shot where the reader does the body positivity trend with the new megan thee stallion song and the reader is insecure about how ppl will react to it?? Most importantly how peter will react to it?? K thanks

A/N- Part 2 cuz I immediately knew what I wanted to do with this the second I got the ask. (Peter's turn)

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

When Peter heard that you'd been nervous about showing him your video, he freaked.

He thought he'd done something wrong. That maybe he gave off weird vibes or that he'd said something before that made you think he wouldn't have liked it. Which definitely wasn't true. He liked everything you did.

Well, except that one time you got bangs. He didn't really like the bangs.

Anyway, Peter felt like he needed to show you that he was okay with it all. That he was down with anything you wanted to do or show him.

He looked in the mirror early that morning and decided.

Peter wanted to show what he had to offer.

He looked down at your TikTok "body" video on his phone. He could do something like that, right? He was completely clueless, but he could at least try his best.

He pulled out his phone and texted the one guy he knew could help him out.

PeterParkour🤟: i need u to teach me the lip bitey thingy

PrinceHarry👑: bro what

PrinceHarry👑: ???

PrinceHarry👑: what is that

PeterParkour🤟: like when u make yourself look all cool when u bite your lip

PrinceHarry👑: ...

PrinceHarry👑: oh

PrinceHarry👑: OH

PrinceHarry👑: 😂

PrinceHarry👑: lmao why do u wanna do that???

PeterParkour🤟: im trying to make a video for y/n

PrinceHarry👑: what kind of video 👀

PeterParkour🤟: NOT LIKE THAT

PeterParkour🤟: well actually

PeterParkour🤟: kinda like that

PrinceHarry👑: PETER WHATTTTT

PeterParkour🤟: ill explain later which penthouse are u at tonight?

PrinceHarry👑: the one closest to ur apartment

PeterParkour🤟: ok ill come over

Now, on your end, school was kicking your ass.

You weren't failing, but the amount of make-up work you had was so far through the roof that you might as well be. And the teachers were hellbent on making it the hardest they could.

To put it short, you needed a break.

And the second MJ heard your tired, irritated voice over the phone, she was on her way over with chips, dip, popcorn, and movies. If there was anything to calm you down, it'd be a nice movie.

MJ had gone to your kitchen to make the popcorn and you were laying on your bed finishing up some homework, when you got a phone call from Harry. "Hello?"

"I didn't know you and Pete were sending nudes."

You paused. "What?"

He carried on in a nonchalant tone. "I mean, I never took you guys as the types to do that, but damn, you two really surprised me. Dude's really over here asking for tips and everything-"

You sat up in your bed, alert and highly confused. "Okay," you said, taking a deep breath" ....what, again, the fuck?" Harry continued to ramble but one sharp scolding tone stopped him. "Harry, shut up."

He paused on the other side of the phone and then suddenly his voice came back, extremely hesitant. "...wait, was I not supposed to say anything? Did I just fuck up?" He sighed. "Oops.."

"No, Harry tell me what the hell you're-" BEEP. You looked down and saw that he hung up.

Just then, MJ opened the door, hands full with freshly popped popcorn. "Okay, ready to get the movie started?" She walked to the bed when she noticed that you were practically frozen in your spot. "Um, [Y/N]?"

You looked up with glossy eyes and she immediately knew that something was wrong. "Dude, what happened?"

You frantically shrugged a bit, and then let out a shrill laugh, half confused and half preparing for the worst. "Peter's- um... apparently... sending nudes to...me....Harry... someone?"

"What?"

Peter had finally made it to Harry's penthouse.

"So, nudes?," Harry chirped, very amused as he opened his door.

"What nudes?," Peter asked as he stepped into the living room. "What are you talking about?"

Harry paused. "Wait, what were you talking about?"

Peter only stared back in confusion, leaving Harry to pick through his own confusion fragments of information. He quizzically looked at him. "But-..the texts?"

"Oh!," Peter laughed, moving to sit on the couch. "No, I wanna make one of those thirst trap TikToks for [Y/N], that's all," he explained with a shrug and a bashful smile. "She made one for me, now I wanna repay the favor."

"Dude!," Harry hissed out. "You should've just said that!"

"Well, how about you just need to stop making assumptions," Peter said with a slight frown, not understanding why his friend was so wound up.

"Well, I had to since you kept being so vague!"

Peter rolled his eyes and started towards the refrigerator, if not to actually get something to drink, getting away from a crazed Harry for two seconds would be enough.

When he sat back down, Harry started to speak again. "So, what did you need me for?"

"Oh," Peter mumbled, shifting in his seat. "Well, you know how to do that sort of... stuff, right?"

"You mean looking like a fuckboy?," Harry snickered. "Yeah I'd say that's well within my reservoir."

Peter gave his typical bashful look. "So... teach me your fuckboy ways?"

Harry grinned. "Peter. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

You held your phone in your handle, looking at Peter's contact number hesitantly.

"Just text him," MJ said with an eyeroll.

"But what if it's nothing?! I don't wanna be the crazy girlfriend!"

"But what if it's something?," MJ added. "Cuz if you put it off now, and it actually ends up being something, you'll be even more miserable than you would be if you just found out now."

You took a long breath and nodded. "Okay then I'll text him."

"But if it is nothing, you'll look pretty stupid jumping to conclusions like that."

You sighed. "So, no?"

"But then if it's something-" she continued, getting deeper underneath your skin with each word. "-you'll look even more stupid because you could've found out sooner and you didn't."

Finally quieting down from her rambling, MJ noticed you glaring at her. You sighed.

"So...do I or do I not text him?"

"Oh nah, dude. I mean, I wouldn't. After all, I'm not saying that I think it's something," she said with a shrug. "I'm just saying on the off-chance that it is, you'd be in bad shape."

"Okay can we please stop playing devil's advocate with my life?!"

"You know I love watching you squirm [Y/N]." "Anyway, I'm sure Peter's not cheating. The boys were probably just doing something dumb and Harry just explained horribly."

You bit your lip. "You sure?"

She shrugged. "Pretty sure."

"Okay, now lower the camera just a little," Harry instructed. "You gotta show the v-line, but still leave enough for imagination."

Peter dropped his arm and his posture and shot Harry an incredulous glare. "Harry, if you focused this much in school I wouldn't have to tutor you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just keep going."

This was the third picture taken and though it was out of his element, Peter strangely felt very confident with what he was doing. He never saw himself as ugly, but he certainly never saw himself as hot either. Not like Harry. But looking at himself now, with Harry's corny chain necklaces on and his hair scruffed up in a way he's not used to, he knew one thing for certain.

He looked good.

"Okay," Harry said. "Now the last one, actually needs to be some dumb picture someone took of you in your gallery."

Peter frowned. "Huh? But I'm on a roll here."

"Yeah but the whole point is that all of these pictures weren't supposed to be taken directly beforehand," he pointed out. "Since you're breaking that rule, you gotta throw in a cute dumb one to throw off your scent." He smirked. "Also, you gotta show the ladies and gents that you have a softer, funnier side."

Peter stared for a moment. "..why do you have this down to a science?"

"Says the science geek?," Harry retorted.

Peter spent the night at Harry's and they drove to school early in the morning. He was glad that it was Tuesday because your schedules made it so that you'd both have lunch together every other day.

"You sure she'll like it?," he asked Harry as they walked down the halls before lunch.

Harry rolled his eyes with a laugh. "You know, she asked me the exact same thing for you when she made her video?"

Peter nodded quietly, still feeling a bit down about you feeling bad about showing him that video. "Yeah, I know."

"Jesus," Harry laughed. "You insecure little dweebs are made for each other!"

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment..."

"As you should," Harry said with a shrug, as nonchalant as ever.

The two boys walked into the lunchroom and to the table they knew best. You and MJ were already there.

Peter could tell just by the look on your face that something was wrong. "Hey," he greeted cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

MJ glared at him and he looked to Harry, whose clueless face was not helping.

Finally, you looked up and sighed. "Pete, be honest. Are you cheating on me?"

What.

"What?!"

You examined the utter shock and terror in his face. It didn't look fake. He looked saddened and scared as he began to ramble. "No no! I would never! What even made you think-!"

His eyes caught yours as you looked over towards Harry sittting next to him. Peter turned toward Harry and then looked back to you in confusion. "Wait, you think I cheated on you with HARRY?"

MJ bursts out laughing next you. "Jesus..."

Harry scoffed. "Well don't sound so excited Peter, jeez."

You let out a small chuckle but kept your eyes on Peter. "It's just... Harry called me and...said something about nudes and-"

Peter's face grew even more contorted with bafflement. "Nudes?!"

Harry hit his forehead, finally understanding what was happening. "Ooooooooh, me and my big mouth..."

All eyes turned towards him. "What, Harry?"

He sighed. "This is all just a big mix-up." Harry nudged Peter. "Just show her the thing dude."

"What thing?," MJ asked.

Peter fished through his pockets. "Okay," he mumbled, a bit shaken up by what happened. He took his phone out and handed it to you. "Here."

You looked up and saw Peter looking down at you, waiting for your reaction.

"So, this is what you were doing yesterday?"

He nodded.

You blew out a long breath of relief. "You're not cheating."

"God no, babe, I'd never cheat on you," he cooed, stepping over towards your seat. "I know you were really nervous when you showed me yours, and so... I thought I should repay the favor."

He didn't even have time to breathe before you were on him, wasting no time in bringing your lips to his. He kissed you back, mildly aware of the people in the lunchroom around the two of you, but he still didn't care.

Peter pulled away with a smitten smile until he noticed blood on his lip. He wiped it away with his hand and frowned when he realized it was not his own.

You almost asked what was wrong when you noticed him looking at you strangely, but MJ beat you to the punch.

"Dude, you have a bloody nose!"

You gasped, picking up a napkin from the table.

Harry laughed. "Did you really just get a horny nosebleed?"

"Horny nosebleed?," MJ snickered.

"That's not a thing," you scoffed. "...is it?"

"It actually is," Peter corrected, blushing profusely and rubbing his neck. "Just glad to know you thought the video was hot."

"It was really hot," you gushed.

Peter grinned and pulled you close. "Aww babe."

MJ rolled her eyes. "Okay lovebirds, get a room."

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

Lol I know this was pretty trash but I was just trying to get to sleep while I was finishing this

Tagging: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil, @yumings , @hey-its-grey , @spideyyeet , @sunkissedspidey , @tommyunderoos , @chaoticpete , @sovereignparker , @thesherlockianavenger , @bubblebucky , @eridanuswave , @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr , @kidney9-9 , @gwenvrse, @the-weird-bisexual, @kelieah

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x you #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt27

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thebigoblin · 4 years ago

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For some reason i was listening to this is home - cavetown and came to the crushing realization that if fits sterek kinda well???? Its always been my song for comfort but the other day i was listening to it and got slapped in the face by sterek feels-

I just listened to it right now (x) and I have soooo maaaanyyy feeels. Goddammit, Sterek. Let me have one hour in peace.

Anyways. So.

Often I am upset that I cannot fall in love but I guess

This avoids the stress of falling out of it

Are you tired of me yet?

This is soo Derek. He has been burned by love (both literally and figuratively), first with the death of his first love (which he had to do, even if it was a mercy killing he did kill her) and then he thought this woman loved him enough to want him as he was: broken, young, inexperienced. Grieving.

And then Kate showed him exactly what it means to love someone like him.

It always ends in death.

So now Derek doesn't fall in love. He doesn't even make friends, doesn't socialize. He doesn't let anyone enter the fortress of his solitude, not even Laura, knowing he is the reason they've lost their pack. He doesn't deserve that kind of love.

He waits for Laura to tire of him. To be frustrated and angry at him, to tell him he means nothing to her anymore, because even though he hasn't told her he knows why the fire happened—knows who did it—he is been nothing but a thorn in her side, anything but helpful in her endeavor to help rebuild their lives.

He waits and waits for Laura to tire of him, to kick him out of the two person pack—and she does. But not the way he wanted.

She dies and leaves him alone and there is no one to nag at him to get his shit together, to make him see that he can be loved, should be; but it's not at all what he wanted.

I'll hide my chest

And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

This can be both Derek and Stiles... but I see it more for Stiles. Idk why.

Derek plays his cards close to his chest, but he does all he can to try and protect the others. We don't really see him be anything but angry in the earlier parts of the show, and you can't make me believe that the person who gave up his Alpha powers for his sister, who trusted Peter (when he was the Alpha) despite the things he'd done simply because he's family, won't be grieving for the only family he thought he had.

And then there's Stiles. Stiles '147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. Sarcasm is my only defense' Stilinski who is human and logically the weakest person in a show of mythical creatures. And he is. He is weak. Physically, he knows he can't take on Peter or the Kanima or the Alpha Pack. And he is terrified of that. But you know what he does? He fights in spite of that. He talks, he plans, he misguides, and he fights. He fights because he won't let anyone hurt him or the ones he wants to keep safe.

Stiles, too, 'hides' his true feelings and figures out a way to get them out of their problems. (Does that make sense??)

Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead

'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head

But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet

This one is kinda self-explanatory isn't it... Derek is haunted by his past and it's made him into a person who can and is willing to sacrifice his own life without a second thought.

'I know what I'm risking. My life for theirs.'

He doesn't exactly have anything to live for. But he's brave. He's going through hell and he keeps going.

He doesn't want to sleep. Not yet.

Get a load of this monster

He doesn't know how to communicate

His mind is in a different place

Will everybody please give him a little bit of space

Get a load of this train-wreck

His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet

The first two lines... these are also self-explanatory. I see this as things Stiles thinks (not the monster part, not once he's rationalized that mythical creatures exist in the world) about Derek. (Honesty, I think we all think that lol).

Derek is not good at communication. He wants something but he does something else. He wanted Isaac to leave him so that The Alpha Pack can't leverage his third beta against him, hurt him/kill him like Erica (and Boyd, but I don't remember if he was alive during this time or not), but the way he made Isaac leave was to bank on Isaac's trauma—if I am remembering correctly, this is when he throws the glass at Isaac.

Derek is so not good at communication. And he is definitely a train-wreck; he never wanted to be the Alpha and he still becomes one. He never wanted for Laura to come back to BH (probably why he himself didn't come back here while she did) but she did anyways and he lost her. He didn't want to kill Peter, but he had to anyway.

He lost who he was in the chaos of his life. And he doesn't know who he is anymore—he isn't even the Alpha anymore, he's lost that, and he's been human too.

He keeps losing who he is. He keeps losing his identity.

Derek Hale doesn't know who he is supposed to be.

But maybe...

But little do we know, the stars

Welcome him with open arms

...This is how it was supposed to be.

Maybe this was all fate. All of it, from the loss of Paige to his evolution, maybe it was all mapped out in the stars. Maybe it was supposed to happen.

Just so he could find who he is.

And who he is? He's the best legacy his family could have asked for. He's a predator, and he's a killer, but he's not a cold-blooded killer. He's strong, he's brave, and he is good. He's someone who has had the worst life but come out of it a brighter person, a burning sun; a moon that shines brighter the more that it wanes, because Derek? He's learned to hide his craters, and he's learned to live with them.

Alternatively, though, 'the stars' could also mean Stiles (his moles, scattered along his skin like constellations), the only one who opened his arms for Derek even when he didn't have to. Like saving his life even when they weren't anything to each other.

Time is slowly

Tracing his face

But strangely he feels at home in this place

Time heals wounds, doesn't it?

Derek gets better with time. He doesn't just live, but he's alive. He is living.

Since I've gone full canon up until now, I'll continue post-canon here: Stiles and Derek, we know how their story goes up till S6B. We know how much Stiles means to Derek and Derek to Stiles, even if it wasn't strictly said aloud in canon.

We know.

And I... well. I think that Stiles and Derek say it aloud. To each other. How much they matter to each other.

It might be during one of those high-tension missions, the pack preparing to fight against Monroe, making plans and doing everything they can. Stiles is planning, laying out rules and objectives and making sure to drill into one of them how important this is, and Derek watches him and he watches Lydia, the girl who has Stiles' heart. (Only she doesn't, and she knows it).

And then Stiles says he will come, too. But it's too dangerous.

Derek immediately objects.

Everyone goes deathly silent. Because Stiles is the one who is 100% capable of them all, who is the best on their side (being FBI does that, as does being part of ops like this since he was 16, even if Stiles wasn't as badass as he is now).

Stiles is angry.

"So, what, you wanna be the martyr, then? Is that what you want?"

Derek is angrier. (He is terrified).

"You'll get hurt!"

"I will not! Even if I do, it's my fucking job—I'll get hurt if it means keeping you all safe!"

"You can die!"

"So I will die!"

"No, Stiles, you will not. I—"

"What do you mean I will not—"

"—can't lose you too!"

Yes, this is total cliché, but I am a total simp for cliché so :D

And yeah, after? When they've defeated Monroe and are back to 'normal,' Derek and Stiles fill the parts of each other that they've lost over the years. They make a home for themselves. In each other, with each other.

(And okayyyyy, wow. I did not mean to get so into this but... here we are. I totally obsessed over this lol).

(Also this is a beautiful song, if a bit sad? Anyways, now I have a new song to listen to so thanks <3)

#answered ask #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek #teen wolf #wowzee this is a looooong post #♥️♥️♥️#dirtbag-inc

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starshipsofstarlord · 5 years ago

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Spider On The Wall | Peter Parker

Request: Hey :) could you write something about the reader having a major crush on Spiderman and being Peter's friend, but not being aware that he's spiderman, so she's like: fuck he can destroy me with that super strenght and Peter gets a boner cause damn he would love to destroy you as well? lol - Anon

A/N: It might not be great, but I hope you like it anyway. Feel free to send me some feedback, it’d be much appreciated. And don’t forget that requests are open xx

Warnings: It’s a lil smutty (handjob, blowjob)

The thing was, when Peter had became Spiderman, he spared no thought on how you would react to the webslinger in that moment. All he wanted was to fight crime, and get justice for the victims in Queens.

Perhaps he hadn’t thought about your reaction to the boy in red and blue because you had never been one to hype up the idea of superheroes. He could quote, once you had supposed, that you had ‘zero attraction’ to anyone from another planet or someone with superpowers.

And so he hadn’t suspected you to be spending your time ogling at an ass kicking vigilante, if you could even call him that. Falcon said that he spoke too much when they were fighting, but in all fairness, he still kicked his ass...

That was a few months ago now, that whole hero on hero fiasco. And to his luck, the secret of his identity was safe, from those that he fought against and his loved ones. Except Aunt May... and Ned... Okay, only you. But he was afraid that your boredom of anyone genetically exceptional would dictate the way you felt about him, or didn’t. And in all fairness, those two finding out his truth had been an accident.

Those seemed to be happening too much lately. The only thing to keep him preoccupied was the Stark internship, what wasn’t what it sounded like at all, it was a cover. Even today, when he had been shadowing Mr Stark, he broke a test tube when trying to explain how he makes the suit’s webbing, and then he got stuck in an elevator because FRIDAY was being reprogrammed, and she mistook him saying ‘stop’ as a message to her.

But actually, he was on a call with you, listening to you making fun of a song a lady of the street had played. It was about the Spiderman, being able to apparently do whatever a spider could do. So when he returned home, he had not been expecting to hear the music coming from his room, speaking about him.

He smirked as he opened the door, watching as you laid on his bed, eyes closed, rocking your socked feet to the tune. “I thought you said it was annoying.” He counteracted your earlier statement, making you jump at the sound of his voice.

Aunt May had went out for her weekly shop, so you had expected to have the place to yourself after she had let you in for an hour or so. But Peter was early, and clearly enjoying the redness that was growing on your face.

“It is!” You defended yourself, not wanting your friend to find out your little secret. “But admittedly it’s catchy, so...” You dragged out, hoping that would be enough to make him shove off and leave you alone.

When you realised that the song was still playing, you grabbed your phone, stopping it. “Did you download it?” He asked seriously, astounded by the fact. He saw that it was in your music app, so you must have.

“Well who knows, maybe it will get me to soften up to the idea of a hot guy swinging around the neighbourhood in blue leggings.”

“They aren’t leggings.” He whined, disregarding the other thing that you had said for a second, until, “you think he’s hot?” Peter couldn’t believe it, but if that was the case, then he was feeling jealous at the thought of himself. The only thing was, that you didn’t know that he was that guy.

“I’m optimistic.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulder, trying to not be too open with your opinion. If he knew that you had a thing for Spiderman, you would never hear the end of it. “And plus, everyone thinks he is.”

“They do?” He knew that all of your peers at school perceived him as some sort of god, at least practically, even Flash. But the fact that they found his ulterior attractive gave him some sort of silent confidence. The only problem was, that you seemed more interested in his disguise instead of the real him; your friend.

“Yeah, I mean fuck, he could totally destroy me with his super strength and I wouldn’t care if I was incapable of getting up in the morning. Or the morning after that, or... well, you get the picture.” Yes he did, and it was very vivid. His mouth was gaped open at your confession, and he tried to think of anything that would get his mind off the images that were blurring through his mind.

He couldn’t help it, he was a teenage boy. So he as he thought, he came to one conclusion that would change the topic, although not really. “But you’re a virgin!” He squeaked.

No that didn’t help. Right now, he felt like he knew too much about you. And just the idea made him sigh in frustration, and then he felt it. He had gone hard, and as he dreaded to look down, your eyes followed his gaze, clamping a hand over your mouth, covering your amused giggles.

“Don’t tell me that you have a thing for Spiderman too!” You laughed, making Peter shuffle and try to tug down his shirt, but to no avail did his efforts cover much.

“I don’t.” He wasn’t that vain. In respect you tried to look away, but you just couldn’t, it was practically right in front of you! And so you continued to laugh at the cost of his dignity, feeling bad for your friend at the same time.

“Then what gave you that?” You went to point at it, but you were too close. Your fingertip grazed the bulge in his jeans, making Peter��s eyes widen in shock as he let out a whimper. “Shit, sorry.”

His whole body had gone stiff at the contact, not just that one limb. He was frozen, clearly, and as you knew, had never had anyone touch him there, or really anywhere for that matter.

“Do you want me to leave, so you can, y’know, fix yourself up?” On instinct, you bit your lip, slightly nervous in this situation. As Peter had said, you were a virgin, this was all new territory to you too. “Or... do you want me to maybe, I don’t know... help?” At that thought, you shook your head, ashamed at your own offer. “Never mind, that’s stupid, why would I-”

“Would you?” He was sheepish, and with good reason. He didn’t want to cross a line, he knew that if you left right now, things would be awkward for a while, and then you would never get the real answer of why he had gotten a hard on.

His question had you struck with shock. Yes, when you said it you had been serious, but you had never expected him to actually agree with that condition. “You sure?”

You needed his consent if you were going to go ahead (no pun intended) and do anything to his body. This had to be what he wanted, because these first steps were things that you could ever retake, they weren’t like drafts in class.

“Yeah.” His composure had relaxed from how it had paused. At that he let out a deep breath, relieved that he had even managed to answer you with words. The nervousness that he was feeling, you could relate to.

The two of you were friends. Nothing more, as much as either of you unknowingly wanted to be. Sure, a couple years back you had kissed, but that was just to get the heat of the first kisses off of the both of your chests. And since then, you had never paired your lips with each other’s, let alone another’s.

At his answer, you stood, looking expectedly, dragging him by the sleeve to switch places with him. “Sit down.” You motioned at the edge of his bed with a nod, and he looked back at the portion of covered mattress, before he complied with your command.

You wanted him to be comfortable, you cared about him, a lot. Possibly more than a friend should. Clumsily, you shuffled onto your knees, feeling the carpet through the rips in the knees of your jeans.

You reached towards his belt, but the proximity that your hands were on made his hips buck up in the air. His body was eager, excited. But nevertheless, your fingers continued their route, grabbing onto the pleather and unbuckling it, until you had a free path towards his zipper.

Dragging the closing of metal down, and shimmying the rest of the fabric a little ways down his thighs, you were left with one layer. His boxers. It was dawning on you that this was all happening all so suddenly. Peter noticed the anxiety painting your face, and so he spoke up about it.

“Are you okay?” If you had changed your mind, that was okay. If this wasn’t the position that you were wanting to be put in, then you wouldn’t have to continue. Although you were the one about to do the dirty work, it was still half about you and your emotions.

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you reached up and began toying with the blue plaid that was covering his nether region, running your fingers below the elastic band slightly. “Just settling into this, it’s new and everything.”

A small smile played at your face, and Peter reached down and began to play with your hair, but not with a sexual intention. He often noticed that when you were tired, or even scared about an oncoming exam, you would do so yourself. And his attempt at calming you worked, and as a result, you dragged the blocking material down, leaving his lower half exposed.

This was the first time that you had seen a penis in person, and at the sight alone your eyes widened. You guessed he was average size, perhaps he was more, but at the end of the day, you had nothing to compare it to. It wouldn’t matter whether it was or not, after all, genitals didn’t define a person.

But still, it was weighing on your mind as you reached forward and took a hold of it in your dominant hand. At your light grasp, Peter threw his head back, clenching his jaw. It felt so much different when it was somebody else’s hand, he realised.

You began moving your hand in soft jerking motions, leaning your head towards the action in interest until a thought appeared in your mind. Sure, hands worked, but so did your mouth, and so you brought the tip to your lips, engulfing it out of curiosity.

The feeling of having something so filling and warm in your mouth was strange. But it wasn’t bad, and so you suckled around the head, letting your eyes roam until they landed on Peter who had now began fisting his own hair and sheets.

“Fuck.” He breathed, with sweat collecting upon his face. It felt so good, possibly even too much. And then you attempted to take him a little further into your mouth, in the direction of the back of your cheek, and with that, he was plunged into pleasure. “I think I’m gonna -” He tried to warn you, but he cut himself off with a groan.

You hadn’t pulled away, instead you had rested your chin upon his thigh, taking everything that he had to give you. Swallowing, frowning at the unusual taste, you pulled him out of your mouth, extensively breathing, surprised with how you had handled the situation, and well, him.

His breathing was still pretty heavy too, but he gave himself a moment to laugh euphorically. “So... you like Spiderman?”

Wiping your mouth, you shook your head at his comment. Of course he had to bring that back up.

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anarmorofwords · 4 years ago

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Okay since I’m emotional about baby Matthew interacting with his parents, Charlotte having to leave Matthew for the first time since she’s had him (Henry is there so he’s not alone but you know what I mean) and she sneaks into his nursery and lets rubs her finger on his little chubby baguette arm and tells him to be good for papa and Charles and she loves him before she goes to Charles room and kisses him goodbye too. She did this for a long time, every-time she left until her babies weren’t quite babies anymore.

Henry positioning little Matthew on his lap so he can hold his fingers and just bounce before he can walk. Tbh? I think Henry was the one who really liked seeing his kids firsts, like he’s the one who wanted to see them walk and tried to contrive ways for them to have the chance too.

Matthew gave Charlotte a heart attack once because she tried to cut his nails as a baby and everytime she get close he scream and she jump away but then he laugh, he thought they were playing, he is the reason for her first grey hairs, she swears.

Charles and Matthew where the “he’s touching me” / “I’m not touching you” type of siblings. Matthew has pushed Charles into a fountain and Charles has cut Matthew’s doll’s hair off. But Charles would also kill spiders in Matthew’s room if he asked and held his hand to cross the street as a kid unprompted.

Henry did perfect his mobile rocking crib from clockwork princess by the time Matthew was born

Charles once took Matthew out of his crib as he was crying and walked into a room of small party his mom and dad were hosting at 7 and matter of factually told them “make him stop crying, please” and since he’s 7 and has no idea to hold a child the parents in the room all to rush to get the kid out of his arms.

Matthew actually was the tantrum Haver of the two Fairchild children and like he says, if he was going get angry he was gonna make it in eventful, baby fists flying (Charlotte and Henry grabbing his hands and telling him “no, no hitting, violence is not the answer” but he craves violence) screaming like a victim of a slasher film but after he did it a lot of times he Peter out and feel bad about it, after everything is said and done he usually said sorry. But he also tire himself out. Similarly? If Matthew was a screamer, Charles bit people. Horribly teething phase. No one will ever let him live down when he was five and he bit Gideon. All I’m saying is that Charlotte gave birth to hellions while Will have births to angels was the common joke back in the day

Matthew can do pretty good impressions of his parents that actually make Charles laugh, but he denies it. Matthew can do a good Charles too, but Charles finds it less funny.

Charlotte introduced Matthew to Oscar Wild, when she bought home a copy of Dorian Grey, Will insisted she read but “when do I have to read?” But she ended up reading it to Matthew as a bed time story not recognizing it may be a little scary for him but LUCKLY he just ended up stanning him.

Matthew had a little bit of Anna from the first half Frozen energy when it came to the Fairchild Manor. Change my mind.

Charlotte has a pictures of both Charles and Matthew as babies in a locket she keeps in her pocket. Henry has a family portrait as soon as photography was available.

In a similar way, in some ways to his son’s fears, Henry fears Matthew thinks he’s boring and prefers Will who more fun (Oh the irony right?)

Matthew and Charles have only met the Branwell side of the family a number that can be counted on one hand but even that is too many for them.

The academy explosion was the one time Charlotte truly blew up at Matthew over.

Both Charles and Matthew had quite a bit of freedom as young teens that maybe they shouldn’t have had.

hi anon!!!

so sorry for taking so long!

hey I'm emotional now too, was that your plan? :')

*le cry*

Charlotte kissing them goodbye is currently almost making me cry when I'm wearing a mascara, bad idea

yes?!! i totally see him being obsessed with their milestones and firsts (again, his kids are what he's most proud of, and I'll die on that hill)

lil Matthew being a lil shit like that has my heart breaking, thanks

they were. though, aren't most siblings like that??? it's really breaking my heart, because I assume this was very much their dynamic at first, the typical "wanna push you into a hole but I'll hold you while you're afraid of the dark" thing.

mobile rocking crib yes please!!!

the mental image of the entire TID gang scrambling to their feet to take Matthew from Charles' arms is currently killing me, thanks

he was and he would apologize after tiring himself out, yes. i kinda wanna imagine that if it happened during dinners/parties Will was at, he would try to take care of him by redirecting his attention, kinda like Jace urging the baby to fight demins

plz imagine Charles trying to boss Gideon around in TLH (in a political setting) and Gideon just looking at him unimpressed, like, "kid, you bit me when you were 5, shut the fuck up"

Omg yes?!?! acting skills, baby!! (Charles is pissed when he's doing the impression of him, but he's also equal parts impressed and unsettled by the accuracy)

I wouldn't say "luckily" about a 12-13 year olds stanning Oscar Wilde lol (especially that I remember my own existential crisis phase when I was that age and read it), but I like that scenario!

yup!

she absolutely has. also does she have like am office or something? because she so would have them there as well

Matthew being insecure about Kit and Henry being insecure about Will,,,,woah, pain. Though I'd say Henry only started thinking so when Matthew became a teen and started to be more distanced (aka mentally ill lol) and all that. Earlier, I think he was very vocal about his adoration for Henry, if NBS is anything to go by.

I imagine she was really really mad and definitely lost it

i think so too! perhaps it wasn't a bad idea in itself, but so it happened that it ended the way it did...

thanks for sending this dear! have a nice day/evening/night!

#handling my inbox #matthew fairchild #tlh #the last hours #ask answered

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ghostbustermelanieking · 4 years ago

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northern bound trains

(or: i didn't write anything for valentine's day so i'm reposting my safehouse fic in honor of the holiday lol)

jonmartin fic, set post 159, complete with angsty pining with a happy ending. this can also be found here at ao3.

Martin rides with Jon to the train station. It isn’t as if Basira is going to see him off, not with everything that has happened with Daisy and the police… someone has to stay back and explain. And, well, Martin insisted. Said he shouldn’t have to go there alone. “Nothing worse than leaving on a trip with no one to send you off,” he’d said. Jon had nodded, gratefully, and swallowed back the burning lump of what he wanted to say— Come with me, come to Scotland, I don’t want to leave you alone again. He kept hearing Martin’s words in his head: I really loved you . And he couldn’t ask Martin to do that, to leave his whole life and everything behind to become a fugitive, cower in Scotland and throw his whole life away. It’s too much. And Martin has already sacrificed so much for him.

He’ll be content with Martin seeing him off. That can be enough. That will be enough.

Jon keeps ahold of his hand in the back of the cab, the whole way there. He doesn’t want to let go. Call him a coward, or selfish, and you'd probably be right, but he came so close to losing Martin forever, and he has to leave again in a few minutes. He held Martin's hand the whole way out of the Lonely, his fingers icy between Jon's. And Martin didn't let go. They came out in the tunnels and Martin leaned into him like he was tired, his forehead tipped against Jon's shoulder. They didn't let go until Basira found them there. He doesn't want to leave Martin alone. He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't know if he can do that. And then he's holding onto Martin's hand tighter, holding it in both of his, and Martin's looking towards him with concern and saying, "Everything all right?"

Jon pushes the thought from his head, steels his shoulders and says, "Yes, of course." Basira will take care of Martin and Martin will take care of Basira, and they'll both be fine without him. Better, even, like Melanie and Georgie. He tells himself that as he takes one hand away, and he tries to move the other, but Martin doesn't let go when he does, and Jon pretends he isn't grateful.

They make the station within twenty minutes of the next train's departing time and have to more or less run to make it. A bit of a haul with the bag Jon packed from the things he had at the Institute, but they make it in time. "Oh, good," Martin says, panting a bit, when they stop at the platform and the train is still there. "I… was worried you wouldn't make it."

There's an odd sort of tone in his voice that Jon can't read—maybe he wants Jon to leave, is looking forward to it? But then he remembers Martin's face in the Lonely, when he broke through, how tightly he'd hugged Jon back, and Jon pushes the thought away. Not positive thinking. Georgie would tell him to have a better outlook on things if she was still talking to him. "Well," he says quietly, setting the suitcase by his feet, "here we are."

"Here we are," Martin says quietly. He's still got Jon's hand; he tugs it towards him insistently. "Stay safe, all right? Don't do anything reckless on the way up there. That'd be just your luck—run into a Darkness monster or something."

"That would be my luck," Jon says dryly, and Martin laughs a little. He laughs, too, clears his throat and adds (because it feels important), "I hate leaving you all behind here. If something happens…"

"You don't need to worry about that," says Martin. "All you need to worry about is getting to safety, all right?"

"But after everything with… with Elias, and t-the Hunters… it doesn't feel right to leave you and Basira in the thick of this."

"Jon, c'mon, we've been over this. Basira told you to go. It's the best thing for you to do. You're not allowed to feel guilty about this, all right? I'm serious."

Martin looks stern in an unserious sort of way, and something aches deep in Jon's chest. He squeezes Martin's hand so he won't do something more, like ask to kiss him or ask him to come along. "All right," he says. "But you… you've got to tell me if something happens. Promise me that, at least. I don't want anything like this to happen to you again." The past few days have passed in such a rush that it feels like no time has really passed at all, and he can still remember the sick panic that seized him when he heard the tape of Lukas telling Martin he wouldn't be coming back. Of finding Martin gone because Lukas had taken him, the period when he thought he wouldn't be able to get him back. He won't let that happen again, not to Martin or to any of them.

Martin takes a shaky breath, and for a moment, Jon worries he might cry. But all he says is, "Okay. I promise," and that is enough.

Jon swallows hard, nods. Checks his watch and relaxes a bit when he sees seven minutes before departure. He'd hoped for more time; seven minutes is enough time to talk for a bit more, even if it doesn't feel like any time at all. But Martin sees him do it and says, "Oh, uh, I—y-you should get onto the train now. So you don't miss it."

Jon swallows hard and says, "Right." Damn it. He isn't ready to get on, isn't ready to walk away and leave Martin alone again. The words bubble up in his throat— Come with me, please —but he still can't say them. He'd asked Martin to run away with him before, and Martin had said no; he has to respect that.

Martin will be fine. He will be. Martin is strong and resilient, a million times stronger than Jon ever has been. He doesn't need Jon. Jon has to believe that he'll be all right.

"Jon," Martin says quietly, and his voice is strange again. "I don't… I don't know how to thank you. For… coming for me. For getting me out of there."

There's things Jon should stay here. Of course I'd come for you, or I wouldn't have left you alone there or You don't need to thank me. But all he can manage is, "Martin." And then they're pushing towards each other, Jon's arms folding tight around him, the two of them clinging together on this train platform surrounded by dozens of people. He's not sure how long they stand there like that; he doesn't want to let go.

Finally, Martin says, "You… you should catch your train, Jon," in a choked up voice. "Don't want to miss it."

Jon takes a deep breath, counts to five in his head before saying, "Right," and slipping his arms out from around Martin.

Martin shoves up his glasses to rub briefly at his eyes; he must be exhausted. "I'll… write to you," he says. "Or call with updates, or… both, I dunno. Always thought it was nice to get letters."

"I'll write to you, too," Jon says. Next best thing to actually having Martin there, as long as he gets to talk to him. As long as there's something beside this long silence over all these months. Maybe he could write some poetry of his own—but no, that's ridiculous, he's never written poetry a day in his life, and Martin wouldn't want that anyway. Doesn't think of him like that.

"Oh. All right." Martin rubs at his eyes again with his sleeve, as if they itch or something. Jon looks at the train, then back at Martin. He doesn't want to go. But Martin says, "Off you go, then," in a thick voice, and Jon nods, and then he's climbing onto the train. He convinces himself not to look back.

He waits until he's seated, in a seat by the window, to look back. He doesn't Look—he wouldn't do that, he swore he wouldn't Look for his friends unless they were in danger, he doesn't want to invade Martin's privacy, and he won't do it. He looks out the window instead, like regular people do, fully expecting to not see Martin there. But Martin is still there, on the platform, wringing his hands as he looks at the train. Seeing him off, as it were. Literally, even.

Jon has to wipe his own eyes, then, pretend he isn't crying a bit. He swallows hard and leans his head against the window and watches Martin through the glass until the train pulls away from the station.

---

Martin stands at the platform for too long after Jon's train leaves, watching the empty tracks. About as pathetic as you can get. His hands are freezing, so he keeps them in his pockets, and he watches for fog and listens for the churn of the ocean, but there's nothing there. Just the pressing crowd of the train platforms. Other trains come and go, but of course, Jon's train doesn't come back.

He's safe, he tells himself, over and over again. He's safe, and that's all that matters, isn't it? That's why you did what you did with Peter. You did it, you saved him. And he couldn't have gone with Jon, anyway.

Three trains come before Martin stands up from the platform and walks towards the cab stand. To go home, he supposes, or go back to the Institute. Basira could probably use the company, too, after Daisy. (Except he and Basira have never really been that close, and Melanie has gotten away, and his mum is gone, and Jon's gone too, now, and here he is, alone again…)

Martin takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. He won't let that happen again, he won't, it's not going to happen again. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, desperate for something to fill the empty spaces in his head. His first instinct, looking at his phone screen, is to call Jon. Looking at the seventeen missed calls from Jon, from when he was gone with Lukas. But he can't—Jon just left, that's ridiculous. So he calls Basira instead, just to check in. Just to hear someone's voice.

She picks up sounding frantic, with that hard edge Basira usually has in her voice. "Martin? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong," Martin says quickly, pushing up his glasses to wipe his eyes again. He's sick of the crying, it's leaving his glasses all fogged and blotchy. Probably sounds like something is wrong. "Just… wanted to check in. Are you all right?"

Basira sighs. "I… yeah. Fine. I've been… I've been looking for Daisy." She sighs again, sharply, and says, "Jon's off, then?"

"Yes. Yes, he left about… forty minutes ago." Martin checks his watch uselessly; he knows how long it's been. How long he spent on that platform imagining himself chasing after the train like he's in some movie—ridiculous. How long he sat there wishing he'd just gone along. "Everything seemed all right. Nothing… nothing off about it."

"Good," says Basira. "And… you? What are you going to do, Martin?"

Martin knows what he should say. Things like I'm going to go and get some sleep, or I'll come and help search for Daisy , or I'm going to find Elias, I'm going to end this before it goes any further, before he hurts any of us ever again. But he doesn't say any of that. He says what he wants to say, without even thinking about it, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost involuntarily. His fingers tighten around the phone, like it is the only thing that is holding him up, and he blurts, "I'm going with him."

Silence on the other end. "What?" Basira says, finally. "I thought… You said he was already gone."

"He is. I'll—I'll get the next train, I'll figure it out. I… I have to do this, Basira."

He says this in a rush, like he's defending himself. Like he's expecting Basira to argue. But all she does is sigh again and say, "All right. Sure. I should've known something like this would happen, with you two."

Martin searches for the words for a moment, turning back towards the station, towards the place where Jon left. He could be there in just a few moments, headed for Jon, going after him. "You… you won't need me here?"

"No. No, Martin, we've done well enough without you these past few months."

Martin flinches, fingers tightening around the phone, and he's ready to say something in response—maybe in apology, maybe in defense of himself, he isn't sure—but before he can, Basira says, "Shit. Just—forget I said that. I know why you did what you did, Jon told me. Just… just go on, all right? Do what you need to do. I'll… I'll just be looking for Daisy. I can call when I have news, about the… the police and everything."

Martin takes a shaky breath, bending nearly in half. "Okay," he says. "Okay." The reality of what he's doing is solidifying, somewhere by the lump in his throat. He doesn't want to be alone again. And he doesn't think he'd be alone if he stayed; if nothing else, he has Basira, and maybe Melanie if she'll talk to him. But it's not just that. It's not just about being with anyone. He wants to be with Jon. Right now, he wants to be with Jon.

"Go get a train or… whatever. Keep Jon from doing anything stupid, when you get there," Basira says sternly.

"Okay," Martin says again. "I… thank you, Basira."

"Don't thank me. You do what you need to do." There's a bit of a silence again, before Basira finishes with, "Stay safe." And then she hangs up. Martin hears the beep in his ear.

He slides the phone in his pocket and takes a few deep breaths. Walks to the ticket booth and gets a ticket on the next train to Inverness.

No time to go home and pack, so Martin goes back and sits on the same bench to wait for the train, huddling up in his coat. It's nearly as cold here as the Lonely. He'll have to stop and buy some things; he doesn't think any of Jon's things will fit him. He tries to picture what Daisy's house must look like. Jon says it's near the ocean; he hopes it isn't like the Lonely. He doesn't think it will be, especially not with Jon there.

Martin rests his head against a concrete post and resists the urge to let his eyes slide shut. He takes out his phone again to call Jon, just to let him know. Doesn't want to just show up on Jon's doorstep with no warning, especially if Jon would rather him not be there at all. (He doesn't think Jon will be opposed to him coming—well, he can't be sure, but he guesses not. Jon did follow him into the Lonely, after all, pulled him out and held his hand, and if nothing else, Martin thinks they could both use a friend. And if Jon doesn't want him to come, if his voice is full of stiff politeness that masks any conflicting feelings he might have, well, Martin will get a cab home before he's actually en route there. It's as simple as that.)

He listens to the phone ring and ring, but Jon doesn't pick up. Maybe his phone is dead. Or maybe it's too soon to call. Or maybe Jon is avoiding him…

Martin sighs and ends the call. No use lingering over that. Basira has texted him Daisy's address, so he'll be able to find the house either way. He saves the text and turns off the phone to save the battery, and boards the train as soon as it arrives, thinking only of arriving in Scotland and of finding his way to Jon. Jon found him, followed him into a lonely hell and saved him, and now it's Martin's turn to search for him, even if it's just in Scotland. He can keep Jon safe, keep him company; they can take care of each other. Be there for each other. That's all Martin really wants.

---

Jon wakes up several hours into the journey and finds his phone dead. He Knows, then, exactly where his charger is, curled up on his cot beside his pillow, and he feels stupid for not thinking to bring it. There goes any chance he has of talking to Martin or Basira on the trip up. He'll have to get a new charger in Inverness.

There's very little to do on the train, and lucky him, he's also forgotten any books to read. Or any statements. He isn't hungry or anything yet—Peter Lukas's statement might keep him going for a while now—but that might prove to be a problem later. (Jon wonders, briefly, if this is an excuse to ask Martin to come down here with him—but no, that's ridiculous, Martin shouldn't have to trek all the way to Scotland to deliver statements.) So, nothing to do. He spends some time watching out the window, and the scenery is nice, but even that gets tedious after a while.

He tries to write a letter to Martin—it seems like it's too soon, but he's got nothing better to do, and he can mail it in Inverness if he sends it now. (And besides that, he misses Martin, even now. Saved him and went right back to missing him.) But everything he writes is all wrong, things he couldn't possibly send. Dear Martin, I miss you. Dear Martin, There's so much I want to tell you about, so much I wanted to tell you when you were gone. I should have told you everything while you were still there to tell. Dear Martin, I am so sorry I treated you so badly for such a long time. Dear Martin, I'm so sorry I didn't come for you sooner. Martin, come to Scotland. Martin, I still want to run away with you. I never stopped wanting that. He folds more than one letter up and shoves it away in his suitcase so he won't have to look at them. (A part of him can't really bear to throw them away.)

Jon goes back to watching out the window. There's a fog settling over the rolling green hills outside that instinctively makes him think of the Lonely. (Martin's hands had been freezing when Jon pulled him out of the fog. He spent half the walk out trying to rub warmth back into them.) He Knows it isn't the same, though; it's just normal fog, it's a rainy day. It's chilling and beautiful all at once. It makes Jon think of walking down a cold beach shouting Martin's name, Martin turning away in the fog, and he has to look away.

He starts composing another letter in his head without even thinking about it. Dear Martin, It's chilly here, but the scenery is beautiful. I think you'd like all the hills and the trees and the fields of flowers, all that green. You don't see that in London. It feels like something you might write poetry about, if you still write poetry. I wish you were here to see it, too. I wish you were here with me.

---

Martin doesn't sleep on the train for a long time. He's too anxious, knees rattling against the seat in front of him until the man inhabiting it gives him a dirty look. He's brought nothing with him, nothing to do, so he's left with more or less digging through his pockets to see what he has besides his wallet and phone. There's a couple pens; he kept carrying pens even after he fell out of the habit of jotting things or turns of phrase he liked down. He finds some crumpled statements Peter wanted him to read deep in one coat pocket and is instantly relieved; he figures Jon will need statements, and he's never read these far as Martin can tell. It's not a long term solution, there's only three of them crumpled all to bits, they'll have to figure something else out, but Martin realized twenty minutes after Jon left that they hadn't sent Jon with anything for sustenance, and this seemed like it was better than nothing. He should've asked Basira to send some; he'll ask the next time he talks to her. And in the meantime, at the very least, if Jon doesn't want to see him and sends him off, Martin will be able to deliver some statements so Jon doesn't starve to death.

Martin doesn't think Jon will send him away. It doesn't make any sense that he would, not after he pulled Martin out of the Lonely. They're friends; Martin is sure of that. It doesn't make sense for Jon to save him and then turn him away. But Martin can't break the anxiety that leaves him worried that Jon won't want him there. That he'll have traveled all that way for nothing. It's entirely possible; if anything, Jon has earned some peace and quiet, some solitude. He doesn't need Martin's problems mucking it all up. But maybe… maybe he'll want a friend. Maybe he won't want to be alone either. He… he did ask Martin to come with him, after all, both of them blind themselves and leave the Institute and go live a happy life. And Martin had said no.

Martin tries not to think about it. He spends some time looking out the window, watching the countryside flit by. There's fog gathering up on the hill, floating down towards the train, and Martin has to look away after a while. He keeps reliving the moment when Peter yanked him into the Lonely, how blank and trudging everything was until Jon found him. He never wants to feel that empty again.

Eventually he does fall asleep, hands knotted in his lap, head against the window. His dreams are full of fog and salt-air and the endless gray ocean. The ocean's never looked like that when he's been in real life.

When he wakes up, he feels cold all over, shivering in his seat. He reaches for the memory of Jon in the Lonely, embracing him at the shoreline, until he feels warm again.

---

It's mid-afternoon when Jon's train arrives in Inverness. He's got about an hour and a half drive to Daisy's house, a bit of a haul after the hours he's spent traveling. He doesn't have the energy to shop before he drives out there; there's a village closer to the house where he can buy things, anyway. Jon doesn't want to do any of it; he just wants to get to the house and crawl into the bed and sleep so that he doesn't have to think about any of this. Doesn't have to relive the attack on the Institute, Basira and Daisy disappearing behind him, Martin being lost, Georgie turning away from him, Lukas ripping apart in the Lonely. Martin coming back to himself, the two of them hugging on the shoreline. Martin standing on the platform while Jon's train pulls away.

Jon doesn't want to think about it, and so he buys a phone charger from one of the stores in the train station and plans to call and check in tomorrow. Call Basira for practicality; call Martin just to talk. He wants to talk to Martin; he hopes Martin will want to talk to him. He goes and rents a small car that won't take too much petrol, and he puts his one small bag in the boot, and he starts the long drive out to Daisy's. He Knows the way without having to check. The route isn't far from the sea; he can look out over the ocean sometimes. Remind himself of childhood, of the better moments in childhood. He hopes it will remind him of the moment when Martin came back to himself, not the moment when he left Martin behind.

Hours later, over half a day later, and Jon still can't believe that he's left Martin behind. It was the best decision, it was the right thing to do, it seemed like the right thing to do. He was in danger and he shouldn't hang that all on Martin. Shouldn't press Martin into following him when there was nothing to gain and maybe everything to lose. But Martin was alone before this, left behind when Tim died and Sasha died and his mother died and Jon sort-of died. Alone and willing to throw everything away to keep them all safe. Willing to make himself even more alone. And Jon had followed him, Jon had brought him back. And now he's just going to leave? Leave Martin behind, alone again, like nothing's happened. After Jon's spent months wanting Martin to be there. After Jon asked Martin to leave with him. This was their chance, and Jon was too much of a coward to take it. Didn't want to ask Martin because Martin didn't love him anymore, but even if Martin didn't love him like that, they were still friends, and Martin still went into the Lonely for him, and Jon went in after him, and then Jon left him again. It's horrible, it's cowardly and horrible and Martin deserves better. Martin deserves so much better.

And that's when Jon decides: he's going back. He's going back to get Martin, even if it is dangerous, he doesn't care if it puts him in danger if it saves Martin. If it keeps him from being Lonely. He'll go back and get Martin and ask him to come to Scotland, and if Martin says yes, they can come back together, hide out here and experience peace for the first time in years, maybe, or face whatever comes together. Basira can come too, if she wants, if it's safer in Scotland than London, and if neither of them want to come, then Jon will come back on his own, he'll do that, it's fine. If he's lucky, though, Martin will want to come back with him, and they'll be here to keep each other company. It's a good plan, a good one. Worse comes to worse, Martin won't want to come and Jon will have made a ridiculous round trip for nothing, but it seems like a risk worth taking. Not like he's got much better to do.

Jon turns the car around, right then. Right then. He'll go and catch a train right now, ride all the way back, no use in waiting. It's not as if anyone is waiting at Daisy's. No time like the present, and besides that, he doesn't want to wait any longer. He wants to see Martin. He wants to see him so badly—even though it has been less than a day since they saw each other, even then, he still misses Martin as badly as he has all these months. Like air.

Jon drives too fast the whole way back to the station.

---

Jon won't be at the station when Martin's train arrives. Martin knows this. He does. But a small part of him is still disappointed that no one will be there when he gets off the train. He used to take the train up to visit his grandmother for the summer when he was little, at his mother's insistence ( I can certainly get help around the house, Martin, don't be ridiculous, the quiet will do us both good ), and he'd always enjoyed the summers, but the rides home would be awful, knowing when he got back he'd take a cab home alone and his mother would say, simply, So you're back then, when he walked in the house. He used to daydream about having someone meet him at the train station someday, but he grew up and got jobs and stopped visiting his grandmother, and then he stopped taking trains anywhere.

He knows that won't happen today; Jon doesn't even know he's coming, and how could he know? Martin knows Jon is trying not to Know; he told Martin that while they were waiting for the cab to the train station, and Martin's grateful for that. He doesn't expect that. He'll get a car or something out to Daisy's, and hope that Jon doesn't want him to leave, and that will be enough. It will be. All that matters is that he's come here, and he's going to see Jon in a few hours, even if it's brief.

The train arrives, and Martin gets caught up in the press of people trying to get off the train, fumbling with his suitcase. It's crowded and a bit choking; the people pressing in on either side of Martin is some of the more direct human contact he's had in months. It takes a moment for him to steady his breathing, pushing his way off the train and to a spot where he can stand alone. He wipes sweaty palms against his jumper and tries to breathe deeply, reminds himself that he is out of the Lonely, that he isn't alone anymore. Relives all the little moments where he's been touched since he got out of the Lonely, mostly by Jon. He'll see Jon in a few hours. He's here and it's all going to be fine.

There's voices all around him, talking in that way that all sort of blurs together to a long buzz, and Martin doesn't bother trying to listen. No one looking for him, after all. But then, over the din of the people on the platform, Martin suddenly hears it: the rising sound of someone calling his name. " Martin? " the voice says, familiar, achingly familiar and incredulous, and then again, louder: " Martin! "

Martin whirls around, searching for the source of the voice, calling out in disbelief, " Jon? "

There he is, pushing his way through the crowd, and he must spot Martin because his face does something funny, and then he's moving towards Martin, and tears are burning in Martin's eyes, and he shouts, "Jon!" right back. And then Jon's there, and he's throwing his arms around Martin, crashing into him so hard that Martin stumbles back a step or two.

Martin doesn't mind. He embraces Jon right back, knots his hands in the back of Jon's shirt and presses his face into Jon's hair. "Martin," Jon says muffledly, mouth moving somewhere against Martin's collarbone. "Martin, you're—you're here ." He sounds like he can't believe it, even with his face mashed against the front of Martin's jumper. "I didn't think—" he starts, and then seems to change his mind mid-sentence and says, again, "You're here ."

Martin nods. His glasses are fogging up, shoved up on his forehead, and he's probably holding Jon too hard, but that doesn't seem possible because Jon is holding him just as tightly, a hand tangled in his hair. "I didn't…" he starts, and then changes his mind mid-sentence. "I missed you," he says instead. "I wanted to come. I missed you, Jon."

Jon takes a sharp breath. His head tilts abruptly so he and Martin are nose to nose, his hand suddenly warm on Martin's cheek. Martin's crying; he thinks Jon is crying, too. And then Jon is kissing him, tentative at first, deep and messy and sweet, in a way that Martin can't remember having been kissed before in his life.

Martin's breath catches in his throat and he tugs Jon forward by the hem of his jumper, even though there's barely any space between them anyway. Kisses Jon like he's wanted to for years. He's thinking, absently, of the moment where he heard that Jon had woken up, and he'd had to go and lock himself in the bathroom and cry, hands over his mouth so Peter wouldn't hear. Thinking only of going to the hospital to hold Jon's hand, to hug him and tell him how happy he was that Jon was all right. He's thinking of when Jon asked him to leave with him, and Martin had said no and it had felt right, but the gap had opened up as soon as Jon had left and he'd wanted to go after him, run after Jon and say of course he'd go with him, he'd follow him anywhere. Go after him and kiss him like this. It's been so long. He never quite thought they'd get here.

Jon pulls away slowly, breathing a little unsteadily, whispers, "Is this… is this all right?" Martin says, "Yes, god, yes," and kisses him again. Softer this time, slower, the kind you can really melt into. They have time now. They have time.

When Jon pulls back again, it's not all the way; he rocks his forehead forward against Martin, warm together, and they don't move for a long moment. Martin reaches between them for Jon's hand and Jon takes it, holding on tight. Martin blinks back tears, keeps his eyes shut, lost in the thick of it, so it takes him a minute to realize that Jon is speaking. Saying, "I'm so sorry," in a thick voice. "I'm so sorry, Martin."

"Don't apologize, " Martin says, his voice breaking, and he pulls Jon's hand up to kiss the back of it. Jon's face screws up, full of some emotion Martin isn't sure of, and he shakes his head. "Don't apologize," Martin says again, almost worriedly. "I don't—why are you…"

"I should have asked you to come," says Jon. "I… wanted to ask you to come. So badly. I wanted to… I was afraid you wouldn't want to. Or that I would be overstepping. And I'm sorry."

Martin chuckles, stunned and self-deprecating and maybe even in disbelief. Tugs Jon closer to wrap his arms around him tighter. "I wanted to come," he says softly. "Pictured myself… chasing after your train or some ridiculous shit like that. I wanted to. I should have… said something." He chuckles again, slowly. "I'm an idiot."

Jon laughs, too, and the sound is almost surprising. He squeezes Martin's hand. "I think we've both been idiots, Martin," he says quietly. "At least a little bit."

"A bit, yes," Martin whispers, kissing Jon's fingers again. Jon shivers a little, tugs Martin to the side. They end up on another bench, at another train station, leaning into each other like they're going to fall over. Looking out over the train tracks. Another train arrives and leaves. Neither of them are on it. Martin is glad. He doesn't want to be anywhere else.

"You… came to get me," says Martin, after a long moment. Jon's got Martin's hand in both of his, their fingers a jumbled mess on Jon's knees, and he only seems to hold it tighter at that. Martin clears his throat, a little awkward, leans his head against Jon's. "Did you… Know I was coming?"

"No, I didn't," says Jon, apology thick in his tone. "I didn't want to… I try not to Look for anyone anymore. I told you that. And… my phone is dead. I didn't get your calls. I didn't… I came back to—to get a train for myself. Back to London. To… to ask you to come back with me."

Martin makes a shocked sound, muffled by his free hand. "You… you were coming to London? To get me?" he says, the words squashed under his hand and the disbelief. "You'd taken the train all this way and you were coming back? "

"Yes. Well, I." Jon sounds almost embarrassed, pressing his face into Martin's shoulder. "It seemed like the thing to do. And I… I wanted to see you. I… I've missed you so much, Martin."

Martin laughs, shaky and teary. "I'm not… I'm not making fun. Much. Since we both had the same exact farfetched, ridiculous idea. I just… can't believe you would do that."

"I'm not known for wise decisions, Martin. It just… it occurred to me and I knew I had to do it. I know it's ridiculous." Jon's voice goes suddenly soft around the edges, quiet, as he adds, "And anyways, yours… yours, at least, was romantic. Mine was just poorly thought out."

"Oh, Christ, Jon, don't be telling me yours wasn't," says Martin, his stomach twisting at the word romantic. (Not a bad twisting. Not at all.) "I can't believe you would… you've already done so much for me."

"I'd do it all again," Jon says, earnestly, squeezing Martin's hand again. "Every bit of it. I would." He must learn forward a bit, his head falls against Martin's again. He says, "I-I'm so glad you're here, Martin."

Martin takes an unsteady breath, scrubs at his eyes with his free hand and shuts them again. Tries to stifle a wobbly smile until he can't anymore. "I-I'm here," he says shakily. "I am. And I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon."

Jon must be crying, too; Martin can hear him sniffling. He shifts a little on the bench, sits up and turns towards Martin, keeping ahold of Martin's hand and wiping his own eyes with his other hand. "Th-there's only one bed at the house, Martin," he says quietly. "Just the one. Is… is that all right?"

Martin takes a sharp breath, looking at Jon, whole and alive and in front of him with nothing to tear them apart, at least not anytime soon. He's thinking of white starch sheets and hospital rooms and Jon's cold hands, moaning coffins and the smell of dirt, late nights in the office before the Unknowing and the surprising softness in Jon's eyes when they'd talk sometimes, the stunned hurt in Jon's eyes when Martin had to turn away from him in the halls or close the doors, or say no to running away, escaping with him. He's thinking of early mornings and warm comforters and cool sheets and tea, first thing, of holding Jon's hand under the covers, of going to bed together at night and turning out the light and not having to be alone. Neither of them being alone again.

"Yes," Martin says, and this time, he doesn't bother to hold back the smile. Jon smiles, too, uncertain like he isn't sure how to do it. But it's as real as anything Martin's ever seen. "Yes, that's all right."

#tma fic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #jm #i wrote this

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