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httpscomexe · 4 months ago

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No Way Home

Summary: After a stressful meeting with Peter Parker, you try to help Stephen Strange unwind a little.

Parings: Stephen Strange x Reader

Warnings: Spell use, language, No Way Home scenes (Actual Dialogue), Smut (Oral, p in v, unprotected, f on birth control), fingering, wound (no description), self deprecating jokes, choking, safe word, some aftercare, little fluff.

Word Count: 3989

“I’ve been practising magic for years, teaching you everything I know, and here we are.” you chuckle a little as Stephen sighs at your every comment.

“I asked Wong to cast the maintenance spell, he’s not the best listener.”

“Well Wong has more important duties as the sorcerer supreme.”

“He wouldn’t be the sorcerer supreme if I hadn’t blipped for 5 years.” The coffee machine made a bubbling sound as it filled the rest of his cup and he walked towards you. “I don’t really understand why they didn’t make you the sorcerer supreme.” He takes a sip of his coffee as he stares down at you,

“Because she tries escaping the sanctum. We all know she has very powerful that she can’t quite control yet and we need to keep her here until we know we can trust her.” Wong walks out of the kitchen, casting a portal and walking into it. “While I’m gone, you get babysitting duties.” You scoff, you know how to control your powers, you just choose not to listen to them.

“I don’t think she needs babysitting Wong.”

“Even if she doesn’t need it, she already follows you around like a puppy already anyways.”

“Yea I’ve noticed that…” He turns to look at you with his head tilted. “You have been clinging onto me like your life depends on it haven't you? Always by my side.” He smiles a little. You were surprised he’s only just now realizing it.

I only shrug.

“Well it’s cold down here, while you’re going back and forth between portals, Y/N and I are going upstairs where it's a little warmer.” He opens a portal to the upstairs, not wanting you to slip on the stairs… again…

“Alright. You keep an eye on that girl, she’s trouble.” Wong waves a finger and you smirk so he knows you’re already up to something as you all go through a portal.

“We are all in shock at this news today!” The lady on the TV talks and talks about everything boring as Stephen goes through some papers of research. “After this video was released from the now deceased Quentin Beck, also known as ‘Mysterio’ the entire world is shocked to see a teenage face under the famous ‘spiderman’ mask, a 17 year old Midtown high student named Peter Parker.” That’s not good.

“Oh boy.” You hear Stephen mumble behind you.

“How do you think he’s feeling about all of it” you stand up from the couch and walk towards Stephen who’s now looking at the TV as a clip from the video Mysterio recorded plays behind you.

“Well I’m sure he’s gonna find a way to make things worse. He’s on his way here right now actually.” He reaches to his right and his cape flies onto his back.

“How would you know that?”

“Y/N sweetie, I know everything.” He whispers softly into your ear, sending small butterflies through your belly as he walks past you and begins down the stairs. As you always do, you begin to follow behind him.

At the bottom of the stairs you hear a high pitched voice and Wong speaking back, and you see Stephen speaking as well. As you get halfway down the stairs, you see Peter Parker.

“The most famous person in the world, I know.” Wong enters through a portal, setting down several suitcases. “Wong.” He introduces himself quickly. “Try not to slip, we don’t have liability insurance.”

“Is all this for a holiday party?” You see Peter take a few steps forward, examining the sanctorum filled with snow and ice.

“No, one of the Rotunda gateways connects to Siberia. A blizzard blasted through.” Stephen leaves your side at the center of the staircase and floats down the steps with a coffee mug in his hands, slipping a little when he lands.

“Because someone forgot to cast the monthly maintenance spell to keep the seals tight.” He speaks as he reaches the last step.

“That’s right, he did, because he forgot I now have higher duties-”

“Higher duties?”

“The sorcerer supreme has higher duties, yes.”

“Wait, I thought you were the Sorcerer Supreme-” Peter breaks their conversation and Stephen looks back at him.

“No, he got it on a technicality cause I blipped for five years.”

“Oh.” He looks at Wong. “Well, congratulations.”

Stephen starts back up. “If I’d been here, then I would have-”

“Burned the whole place down.” Wong walks in front of Stephen. “You two! No one said ‘stop shoveling’”

“So, Peter. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stephen begins to walk to the fireplace.

“Right umm… I’m really sorry to bother you, sir, but-”

“Please, we saved half the universe together, I think we’re beyond you calling me sir.” You started to walk down the stairs to them, smiling softly at Wong as he helped the two people shovel snow.

When you enter the room, you see Stephen lighting the fireplace with some magic.

“Okay, uh, Stephen-”

“That feels weird. But I’ll allow it.”

“Uh, when, um… when Mysterio revealed my identity, my entire life got screwed up.” You stood at the entrance, staring at the fireplace with Peters back to you as he spoke. “And, I was wondering… I mean, I don’t really know if this would actually work, but I was wondering if… maybe you could go back in time and make it so that he never did?”

“Peter, we tampered with the stability of spacetime to resurrect countless lives. You want to do it again now just cause yours got messy?”

“This isn’t- It’s not about me. I mean, this is really hurting a lot of people. My uh… my Aunt May. Happy. My best friend, my girlfriend… their futures are ruined. Just because they know me and they’ve… done… nothing… wrong…?” Peter pauses randomly as he finishes his sentence, you assume his spider sense is catching onto something so you use your own magic to summon some knives.

Suddenly, he quickly turns around and a string of white liquid shoots out at your left hand, sticking it to the table next to you.

“Y/N?!” Peter walks towards you when he realizes who it is. “Oh my God, I thought you were dead!” He gets closer and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yea, hey Pete.” He hugs you tighter and you use your free hand so gently hug him back.

“Have you been here the whole time?” He finally pulls away from you, both of his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Sorry I shot a web at your hand, I guess my spider sense still recognizes you as Black Bee.” (Your villain name) You took a deep breath when he said that name. You haven’t been Martyr for a long time. Just as Bucky hasn’t been The Winter Soldier for a long time, but yet you both still have to be locked up in separate places.

“Well that’s unfortunate isn’t it Peter?” you mumble and Peter lets go of you, easily ripping the web fluid off my hand. “Good thing I’m not anymore, or I swear I wouldn’t be stuck in the sanctum right now.” Peter looks down at you confused. Then he looks up at Stephen.

“Why isn’t she allowed to leave?”

“Because she’s not completely safe yet. Last time we tried bringing her to the store so she could get something for her drawings, she lashed out on a random civilian because they accidentally ran into her backside with their shopping cart.” He sighs and looks at you. You were smiling, clearly proud of yourself. “You should’ve seen the look of fear on that poor womans face as Y/n-”

“Okay, I think you and Peter were talking about something more important before he almost attacked me, Strange.” you cut him off, not wanting to relive the embarrassing memory.

“Right, I am so sorry Peter, but even if I wanted to… I don’t have the Time Stone Anymore.” Strange drops the subject quickly and refocuses on Peter.

“That’s right.” He groans a little. “I’m really sorry if I wasted your time.”

“No, you didn’t-”

“Forget about it.” Behind you, Wong picks up his suitcases and joins the conversation again.

“Oh, he will. He’s very good at forgetting things.”

“Wong, you've actually generated a good idea…”

“What?”

“The Runes of Kof-Kol?” Peter looked at Strange questionably.

“The Runes of Kof-Kol?”

“Oh, it’s just a standard spell of forgetting. It won’t turn back time, but at least people will forget that you were ever Spider-Man.”

“Seriously? That would be-” Your heart beated quickly when Peter's interest rose in Kof-Kol. You and Wong both spoke at the same time.

“No, not seriously!” Wong turns from you to Strange. “That spell travels the dark borders between known and unknown reality. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’ve used it for a lot less. Do you remember the full moon party at Kamar-Taj?”

“No…?”

“Exactly.” Strange waits for a moment before speaking again. He doesn’t even bother addressing you since you weren’t anywhere near being allowed to tell him no. “Come on. Wong… hasn’t he been through enough?”

You watch as Wong's face softens, behind him, another portal opens to Kamar-Taj. “Just leave me out of this.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Wong enters the portal and it closes quickly behind him. Then Strange turns to Peter and has a friendly grin on his face.

The scene in the ancient chamber plays. Strange attempts to cast the spell, Peter keeps changing it mid spell, Strange gets mad at Peter.

Upstairs, everything starts shaking and you look over as a relic falls apart when one of the apprentices tries to hold onto it for support. You quickly make your way down to make sure everything is alright.

“Did it work?” Your voice shook as you looked around and saw Strange visibly angered.

“No. He changed my spell six times-”

“Five times.” You both looked over at Peter who now looked nervous again.

“You changed my spell! You don’t do that! I told you-” He looks at the trapped spell in the centre of the room. “And that is why!” You all look towards the orb with the tiny spell inside. “That spell was completely out of control. If I hadn’t shut it down, something catastrophic could have happened!”

“Stephen, listen, I am so sorry-”

“Call me sir”

Everything is quiet for a moment as you watch the exchange, already developing a way to talk to Strange who you felt was being way too hard on Peter.

“Sorry, sir…” Peter mumbled.

“You know, after everything we’ve been through together, somehow I always forget you’re… you’re just a kid.” You watch as Peter looks down, clearly feeling ashamed of himself. “Look, Parker.” His tone softens. “The problem is not Mysterio. It’s you.” You shoot Strange a daring look, he knows he’s already pressing too far on Peter. “Trying to live two different lives, and the longer you do that the more dangerous it becomes, believe me.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m so sorry about you and your friends not getting into college. But if they rejected you, and you tried to convince them to reconsider, there’s nothing else you can do.” We all stand in silence for a moment and we watch as Peter's face changes slightly.

“When you say “Convince them” you mean like I could have called them?”

“Yea.”

“I can do that?”

“You haven’t called the-”

“Well I mean, I got their letter and I assumed that that was-” You finally cut in.

“I’m sorry, are you telling us that you didn’t think to call and plead your case with them first before you asked Strange to brainwash the entire world?” you asked him more calmly than Strange would have.

“Well, I mean, when you put it like that, then-”

“I can’t believe that kid. He’s fought a giant purple goblin and he can’t think of calling a college and talking to them for reconsideration?” He speaks angrily and you follow him into his room.

“You know, I think I might be able to get into the college if I applied.” You watch as he sits on the edge of his bed. “I mean, I’m basically also twenty-three just like Peter, just a bit more complicated.”

“Complicated because you were frozen in ice at 12, then blipped at 17?”

“Yea complicated because of that.” You put your knees on his bed and make your way behind him. “But you’re way too hard on him, you’re hard on me too.”

“Not as hard on you as I am on him though, I could never yell at you.” You sit up on your knees and place both of your hands on his shoulders, starting to gently massage his muscles.

“You’ve yelled at me plenty of times before Mr. Strange.” you whisper close to his ear and continue to massage him.

“Yes but that was before we all fought a giant grape.” He sighs a little and tilts his head slightly to the side, taking a deep breath as your hands begin to relax his muscles. “And if I can remember clearly, you used your powers to heal Stark. And you also used your powers to find Thanos.” He leans back a little against your front. “Tell me, if it wasn’t your dad who used the glove, if it was someone else like Clint or Scott, would you still have used your powers to save them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well because when you use your Saint, you're taking the pain out of their body and putting it into your own body, and you also move their wounds from theirs to yours.”

“Well, I still would’ve Sainted them. Maybe not you though.” You giggle a little as he turns around and grabs you by the waist.

“Oh really?” You reach down to try pulling his hands off of your waist, laying back as he presses forward on top of you.

“No of course not really.” You laugh as he lays on top of you with one of his knees between your thighs. “You should consider telling Fury that it’s safe for me to leave. I know how to control my powers…”

“Yea, you do, but the second you leave the Sanctum I won’t be able to find you again unless you come to find me for something.” He moves until he's stradling your legs, one of his hands is pressed onto your lower abdomen, and his other hand rests on his thigh as he sits back on his heels.

“Well yea, I like to have my freedom.” You sigh a little as he leans down slowly and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, making you smile softly.

“You have your freedom as long as you’re by my side.” He gently moves his hand down to the end of your shirt and slowly glides his hand carefully over your stomach. “You know.” His voice drops to a whisper as he pauses for a moment and runs his hand over your smooth skin. “You were 17 during the blip… does that make it still wrong for me to touch you? Or will you consider yourself to be twenty three for me?” He grins as he leans down again, his lips gently brushing against your cheek and gently trailing along your jaw and neck.

“I can be twenty three for now… If you want.” You feel your body heating up and you’re sure he could smell you.

“You smell so sweet…” He mumbles as he leans back to press kisses to your stomach and thighs.

Thanks to your powers and the way you were built, when you're turned on, people can smell your arousal no matter how heightened their senses are.

you could feel his tongue slowly trail wet licks between your thighs. His large hands caressing your thighs and gently moving up to grab your hips.

“You look so beautiful…” He lays one more kiss to your stomach as he leans back up and connects his lips to yours in a long kiss. You reach up to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close as he wraps one of his arms around the back of your waist to lift your body against his.

“You know you’re really pretty too…?” You whisper softly with a quiet laugh as he chuckles and lays more kisses to your neck, making you involuntarily arch your back up to get closer to him. Now you could really feel your body heating up. Your lips part slightly as you start to breathe more heavily, and he admired your breasts move slightly as your chest moved up and down. You blush when you see him lick his bottom lip like a starved lion and you were his prey.

“Are you feeling any better? Or do I still have to wait…” You look down a little as you watch him run his hand down to where you were stabbed while fighting Thanos.

“I think I’ll be fine, just be careful if you grab my waist.” With that, he wraps both arms behind your back and moves you until we’re both lying on the bed.

“Remind me of our safeword, my rose…” He speaks softly as he begins to unbutton your blouse and skirt.

“Jumanji.”

“We really need to work on your safeword…” As soon as he finishes speaking, you feel something wrap around your wrists and you look up to see a string of his orange magic attach both of your wrists to the bed.

Fuck

He admired how you looked. Strapped down on his bed as he towered over you.

“You are so fucking perfect you know that?” He growls a little as he grinds against your thigh, his hard length making you whimper a little.

“You don’t have to sweet talk me to turn me on you know…”

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

“That’s not the truth.” He reaches up and grabs onto your chin almost painfully and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Y/N.” His voice was daring. “You’re beautiful and if you ever start to think otherwise, I swear I’ll fuck you until you can’t even comprehend what the word ugly even means. I’ll have you screaming my name and telling you how beautiful you are then when you finally believe I’ll bend you over until you apologise for ever believing you’re not.” He stares into your eyes a moment longer before pressing a rough kiss to your lips.

You kissed for what felt like hours, and honestly you wished it had never stopped.

When he felt your legs open from under him, he couldn’t resist touching you. His hand slid down until he could feel your sensitive skin. “Fuck” He mumbled as he began to rub over your clit with his fingers, making your hips buck up in response.

“Please…” She breathes quietly as his fingers spread her lips, playing with your clit as you continue to buck against his hand, a quiet moan escaping your lips as he leans down, removes your panties, and roughly brings his tongue down to lick you from your opening to your clit. Repeating the movement two more times before diving his tongue into you, tasting your sweet hole.

“You always taste so fucking good…” He begins to lean back up your body, rubbing the bulge in his pants against your thigh before running his hand down and rubbing your clit again, teasing your entrance with one of his fingers before pushing two of his fingers into your hole. “Fucking perfect…” He curls his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside of you that drives you wild while his thumb runs rough circles over your clit.

He began to plunge his two fingers in and out of you, causing you to moan in pleasure.

You began to moan more wildly as his movements became more urgent and you felt a familiar heat rise inside of your lower stomach.

The more you moved, the more he struggled to keep you still. He leans up a little, placing his free hand on your hip to hold you down as he adds a finger to your tight hole. “Cum for me little rose… cum on my fingers like a good girl…” His voice makes your head go foggy and your eyes flutter. You throbbed as you felt the pleasure course through you, rushing through you like a waterfall, and you whined at the feeling of his fingers leaving your hole. Making you lay there in breathy moans.

You watch as he brings his finger up to his lips and licks your arousal off his fingers, then he leans his face over yours, pressing a gently kiss to your temple, then pulling back and resting his hand over your throat before pressing down with his weight onto your throat, making you gasp. “Open.” He demands.

As you open your mouth, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your bottom lip, then leans back to spit into your mouth, moving a little with one of his hands still circling your throat and his other hand gently resting on your waist. “Swallow.”

And you did.

As much as you hated it when people saw you as vulnerable and weak, you swallow his spit. “Good girl..” He growls as he finally positions himself between your legs and you whine as you feel the tip of his cock against your hole, before slowly pushing himself inside of you. Stay quiet, he doesn’t like it when you’re loud during the day.

“Stay quiet…” He growls quietly into your ear before beginning to slowly move inside of you, easily brushing himself against your G-spot everytime he moves, making you arch your back off the bed, begging for more movement as you moan quietly.

“Shhh… M’not goin n’y faster n’til I know y’can take me slow…” He mumbles, continuing to move slowly inside of you, being careful not to grip your waist where you had been hurt.

After you stayed quiet for a few moments, he began to move more quickly, pulling out before slamming back into you.

“Fuck you’re so perfect…” He gently grabbed onto your hip with one hand, and squeezed your throat tighten with his other hand, making your moans become more desperate.

Suddenly you feel warm, and your body starts to shake as you feel yourself come close to another orgasm.

“Fuck, rosey, you feel so good… cum on my cock…” He squeezes your throat tighter, making you gasp a little for air. “Fuck, please tell me you’re still on birth control…” He leans up a little, releasing your throat and pressing both of his hands flat onto your waist, causing a wave of pain to shoot through your body as he accidentally presses his palm onto your wound, but it quickly numbs as it’s mixed with the next orgasm that tears through your body and you feel a warm liquid fill your hole as he carefully pulls out.

“Fuck I’m sorry if that hurt…” He gently runs his hand over the large bandage covering your wound.

“M’ okay…” You mumble. “M’ okay…”

“Okay.” He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then he stands up off the bed and walks into the bathroom, coming back out with a warm towel.

With the wave of his hand, the magic that was restraining your wrists disappears and he kneels next to you on the bed, gently cleaning both of your liquids off your thighs.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go Y/N” He finishes cleaning the mess and watches as you sit up.

“I don’t mind never leaving…” You mumble. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on your lips, you smile and kiss him back.

“I love you, rose bud…”

“Love you too…”

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #smut #x reader #stephen strange #doctor strange #strange #strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #I had to fix this #theres a possibility that you've read this before #no its not deju vu

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imbxdateverything · 3 months ago

Text

tremolo

fandom: Malevolent

whumpee: Arthur Lester

word count: 3,097

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, pre-canon, protective Parker, hurt Arthur Lester, mentions of blood, unconscious, field medicine

read on ao3

—

Parker grinned at the barkeep, an old friend of his named Bobby, as the man relayed a story from his past containing a lovely young lady and a rambunctious gentleman getting into quite a bit of trouble. He sipped his whiskey quietly, seeing no further need to spur on the man's tale as it was given out freely, simply letting himself feel the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat as it travelled down.

Bobby leaned over the counter to whisper into Parker's face as to how that specific tale ended, a finale that seemed to be quite a promising ending if the gleaming mirth in the man's eyes was anything to go by. But before the man could finish his tale, the speakeasy's door was pushed open with a whine from the old and cracked wooden door.

The barkeep turned to face his new guests, but the easy smile adorning his lips mere moments ago fell into a frown, amused eyes widening slightly. The atmosphere inside the barroom instantly turned ice cold and tense.

Parker watched the differing emotions travel across Bobby's face before turning to see what had the man looking so spooked.

Parker was by no means a pushover, his stature and muscle mass were hints enough for people to know not to mess with him, and he had been known to turn rowdy and unwanted customers away from his regular drinking spot when needed. He turned around, eyebrows furrowed in a way he knew to make lesser men shudder and think twice about approaching, but as he took in the sight in front of him, he could feel his face slacken and his eyebrows shooting up instead.

Not ten steps away from Parker, right on the threshold of the bar's entrance stood his and Arthur's current person of interest; a weaselly man named Donny, grinning wolfishly and seeming more than pleased with himself. Around and behind him were a few of his henchmen double his size that Parker didn't care enough to remember their names. The only information he needed was that they belonged to some gang on the other side of town, and they knew about the services Parker and his partner provided.

Donny took a couple leisurely steps forwards and to the side, and all at once Parker understood why he looked like a predator with its fangs sunk deeply into its prey's soft neck.

Parker's breath caught in his throat as the man moved to reveal none other than Parker's own partner hanging off the loose hold two of Donny's lackeys had on each of his arms.

Arthur didn't lift his head to meet Parker's eyes as he was presented, he made no move to even show he was conscious and fuck, it seemed as if Arthur wasn't even breathing for a few alarming seconds.

The band had stopped playing soon after the men had stepped inside, all conversations seized, and there was nothing to buffer against the too loud slapping of Donny's leather soles as he strode towards Parker, looking for all the world like he had won a competition only he was taking part in.

Parker felt his mind roar at him to grab the man and smash his head onto the counter until it was nothing but a bloody, pulpy mess to be cleaned up and thrown out. It would have been easy, too, Parker knew that, but a glance towards his partner had him glued to the spot, even as a gratingly confident voice called out to him;

"Evening, gentlemen," Donny said, saccharine poison slipping off his tongue, his charm practised and confident and his eyes never leaving Parker's own, "We found this one sniffing around our parts. And I think you know how we feel about strays messing about our block."

Donny had the gall to show yellowed teeth with a smirk as he clicked his tongue; a plain order aimed at his lackeys. The two men holding Arthur up came as close to Parker as they dared before haphazardly dumping Arthur at Parker's feet, letting him fall into a heap.

The itch crawling deep beneath Parker's skin to reach down and make sure his partner was at least breathing was squashed down forcefully as Donny started speaking again, his voice abandoning all the sickly sweet charm it held for an unmasked threat;

"You should really train your mutt to follow orders better, Peter. Be a shame if you had to get a new pet so soon, now, wouldn't it?"

White-knuckled fists formed on each of Parker's sides, and he didn't know how he managed to keep his anger and tongue in check as he glared daggers at the men opposite him. It wouldn't do any good to let himself be baited into a fight with them, not in this place, and certainly not with Arthur in the state he was currently in.

Arthur, who was bleeding by his feet, with his slender limbs tangled when those assholes had practically tossed him, and who still hadn't moved and why hasn't he fucking moved?

Donny was grinning like the fool he was, going against Parker's partner and friend and having the audacity to look like a cat with its canary. Parker flexed his jaw taut, finding it harder and harder to convince himself that smashing that asshole's teeth in right in that moment would be a terrible idea.

His focus shifted when he saw Bobby produce a shotgun from the corner of his eyes, sparing a moment's glance to see the man bringing his weapon to aim at the gang members.

"I think it's time you left." Bobby threatened, and even though he would be hard-pressed to have a shot go off inside a hidden bar, the intruding men weren't quite as stupid as they appeared, so they didn't push the man actively pointing a gun at them.

"Alright, alright." Donny chuckled, bringing his hands up in mock surrender, "We're done here anyway. Just wanted to make sure this little lapdog got back to its owner." He said with an air about him as if he were expecting to be thanked for his kind service.

Parker's fists shook and it took everything in him to not grab the barkeeper's shotgun and empty it into Donny's ugly mug himself. With a final low sneer, the man walked outside with his lackeys following right after him.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Parker sank to his knees in front of his partner, his eyes scanning every blood-covered inch of him.

"Arthur," He called out softly, like he was sharing a secret between just the two of them, his arms hovering in the air undecided.

Parker let a heavy breath rattle his lungs as Arthur grunted before trying to get his arms under his body. It seemed as if time stood still for everyone except the two investigators as Parker watched his partner struggle to push himself up with little success. The trembling in Arthur's arms as they were unable to hold his weight pulled Parker from his trance, and it was like a spell had been broken.

Parker was instantly upon Arthur, helping him right himself and gently pushing him to rest his back against the side of the bar's counter.

Arthur spluttered wet gasps that made Parker wince, and Parker had never been so glad to hear such an ugly sound after the terrifying silence that had sat heavy on his chest.

"Parker," Arthur whispered, a broken cut-off sound that tore Parker's insides to shreds.

"Hey, English," Parker let an empty chuckle fill the space between his breaths lest he allowed panic to truly set in, "Let's get you home, alright?"

He didn't wait for an answer he knew he wasn't getting before he carefully put Arthur's arm around his shoulder to pull his partner up. It was slow going, and Parker had to bend his back low enough to accomodate for his partner's slighter frame and to keep from pulling any of Arthur's multiple wounds.

The silence around them soon turned stifling as all eyes seemed turned towards them, but Parker ignored the gnawing feeling crawling up his spine and turned to the barkeep.

"I'll put it on your tab." Bobby said without any prompting, and Parker hoped he could see the gratitude in his eyes in the low light of the speakeasy.

A few of the patrons moved in front of Parker before he could take a step, opening the door and a couple of them stepping outside while another held it open for him and Arthur to pass through.

Parker took a good look at the men's faces as he passed them, making sure to commit them to memory along with a promise to buy each a few drinks as thanks.

The chilled winter air outside hit Parker full force as soon as he stepped out and he felt Arthur shiver against him, spurring him on to reach their office that much faster.

Their usually short enough journey proved to be arduous as Parker listened to every slight noise Arthur made, every wince, every gasp, every whimper almost making Parker wish he had the courage to take his partner to a proper hospital, even though he knew how much Arthur despised them, how Arthur would hate him for it.

But, the small office they had called their home for the past long months was much closer and required a lot fewer questions than Parker would be willing to answer.

Arthur's right leg had long ago given up on trying to support any of his weight, making their trip that much more taxing, and Parker mumbled a few curses under his breath when he finally managed to half drag, half carry his partner onto the curb outside their rented apartment.

Having to take the stairs up to their office had been a daunting task weighing on Parker's mind the entire way there, and now, as he held onto Arthur's waist to keep him upright, he was finally faced with it.

Walking up those steps had never seemed more difficult, more weighted– even during the worst nights of his partner's insistence on drinking himself half to death, on the nights when Parker could only wonder how the man stumbling and clutching onto him had yet to keel over.

From the moment they stepped inside and onto the first step, Arthur hadn't stopped the low whines and moans from stumbling past his lips, but almost halfway up, he had fallen silent and Parker had almost sobbed as his fears took root behind his ribs.

Parker was panting when they finally reached their door. He managed to fish his keys from his pocket and unlock it without shifting Arthur too much, and still his partner remained quiet, making Parker's head spin in worry.

Parker kicked the door closed behind them as soon as they were through, and made a beeline for the small sofa they kept for any in-office visitors, setting Arthur on it as gently as he could.

The shift in gravity seemed to awaken Arthur from his stupor, making him let out an agonised groan as he clenched his eyes shut. Parker winced at the sound, but he couldn't keep himself from feeling relieved as his partner became aware enough once again.

"I'll be right back," Parker softly promised, knowing that Arthur was still too far gone to process any of his words.

Not waiting for a reply that wouldn't come, Parker locked their door before he set off to retrieve the first aid kit they kept in their too small bathroom, remembering his promise to himself that he'd stock it up after a case they had taken a couple months ago had turned a little too violent for his liking, and how he kept repeating that promise in his head every time his eyes fell on the blasted box.

He remembered, as he bent down to grab it, how Arthur had dabbed away the crusted blood off his knuckles after he had clipped one of their attackers on the side of his head; he remembered doing the same to Arthur's busted lip where a fist had struck him.

Parker returned to the office proper moments later, turning the main light on and dropping once again in front of Arthur. Parker almost lost his nerve as he took a better look at his partner's state under the better lighting; dried blood covered the left side of Arthur's face until only a sliver of too pale skin could be made out, a multitude of scrapes and bruises visible on him from top to bottom, his suit darkened further where it had greedily soaked Arthur's blood.

Arthur's every other breath hitched, making Parker flinch, and every wheezing inhale making bile rise in his throat.

As Parker stared, his eyes jumping on every jagged wound on his partner's body, he suddenly felt a deep, rumbling anger swell inside his chest; he had half a mind to start cursing at the suffering man opposite him when he had told him not to follow up on this case alone, to wait for morning for them to go together, or better yet, let Parker handle it himself.

But Arthur didn't know how these gangs could be. He hadn't lived in Arkham as long as Parker had, hadn't seen how low its people would stoop before letting go of their fragile ego and the power they thought was owed to them. And Parker couldn't fault him for that– especially not when he watched the man suck in harsh gasps, blood bubbling on his already stained lips with each exhale.

Peter closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm himself and steady his nervous hands as he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt.

He picked up a piece of gauze from the kit, soaking it in iodine and leaning closer to Arthur, all the while speaking softly like his partner was a cornered and injured animal, wound up and ready to pounce at any given moment.

Parker telegraphed his every move as he went about treating the wounds on Arthur's face first, the process slow and excruciating and drawing a myriad of strained whines from Arthur's lips. He kept speaking softly to himself, to Arthur, to the damn piano in the corner of the room– a litany of nonsense trickling out of Parker's mouth if only to fill the palpable silence around them with anything that wasn't the agonised groans Arthur let out.

"You're a damn idiot, English, you know that?" He whispered with no real heat and ignored how his hand shook something fierce as he removed pieces of broken glass embedded behind Arthur's ear.

Arthur flinched as the protrusion was pulled free, apologies stumbling out of Parker's mouth immediately at the sorry sight his partner made. Even more falling out, seemingly without Parker's prompting, as he continued his ministrations.

Halfway through setting and bandaging Arthur's broken fingers, Arthur seemed to come back to himself with a startled curse pushing past his bloodied lips.

"It's alright, Arthur," Parker swallowed down his worry and put on an easy smile that he would bet looked more like a grimace; all of it an act for tightly clenched eyes and a mind too addled with pain to make the words stick. "I'm almost done."

Parker kept countering every choked down scream Arthur made with kind words and encouragements that sounded almost foreign spilling from his deep and gravely voice.

It was a long and harrowing two hours before Parker accepted that he'd done everything he could. The cries Arthur had been making during that time had almost driven Parker mad, filling him with an urge to stuff his ears with the discarded cotton haphazardly thrown into the first aid kit's corners, if only to never have to listen to such slurred and mumbled sounds fall out of his partner's lips again.

Leaning back and looking over Arthur once again, Parker let his eyes travel between the cuts he had managed to find the bandages to cover, to the torn skin that he had to leave exposed, making sure he hadn't missed any injuries, and sighed to himself.

Parker didn't think he would be able to get Arthur to the makeshift cot they took turns sleeping in further back into their office– not that it'd be much more comfortable than their worn and faded leather sofa. Not to mention how unpleasantly the thought of trying to move Arthur in his state was stirring in Parker's mind.

While Arthur was valiantly fighting against unconsciousness, Parker got up on unsteady and numb legs to stumble into their kitchenette, filling an empty glass with tap water and pointedly not worrying about how cloudy it was as he took it back to Arthur.

Parker dropped down slowly, a careful hand on his partner's uninjured knee as he presented the water to no-one but himself. He had to coax Arthur into taking small sips, getting him to manage drinking almost half of it before the last sip had turned into a wet cough, water tinted pink trickling down Arthur's chin.

It seemed obvious that Arthur wouldn't be winning against the darkness any longer, so Parker abandoned the glass on the coffee table behind him and attempted to ease Arthur into as much of a laying position as he could, gingerly lifting both his legs onto their small sofa.

Arthur was certainly not the biggest man Parker knew, to put it mildly, but even he was hard-pressed fitting comfortably on the furniture, as the double seat did nothing to help accommodate its current occupant.

After settling his partner down and making him as comfortable as he possibly could, Parker sank stiffly to the floor, his back against the sofa where Arthur's feet were, and his head turned to look at his partner's sleeping face.

Still, even in sleep, Arthur's face was screwed with pain, his jaw tight and his eyes wrinkled, and Parker had to look away. He let his head fall between his knees with a forced exhale, trying to get his jackrabbiting heart under control.

He'll be okay. He'll be okay.

Parker repeated the words in his mind like a mantra, promising that he would make them come true no matter what it might take. He sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling before he closed his eyes and let the familiar and ever-present ticking of the clock mingle with Arthur's shuddering breaths as he slept fitfully.

He'll be okay.

#malevolent #arthur lester #my fic #whump fic #ao3 link #malevolent podcast #blood #unconscious #worry #field medicine #sort of #its a house. counts

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milli-moi · 2 years ago

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Domestic Avengers Comic Books

M’kay so, a thought I’ve had a bunch and I feel the need to share with tumblr cause you guys will get it (maybe even generate some fan art/fan comics… *fingers crossed*)

We know that Marvel has a bunch of different comic types right? Some of them have the more fantastical genre, some have more fight scenes and less words, others are more comedy or some (my favourites) are more internal and character driven.

There is one specific genre though that I feel marvel has missed the boat on. If you go on the Avengers section of the fandom interwebs you will find A LOT of domestic avengers.

It was the whole thing for a while right? The fanfic, art and memes based on the Avengers team living together in Avengers tower and doing normal stuff together.

Like, I can give you loads of ideas Marvel, loads of single issue style comics which are light and funny and would interest a bunch of people. They don’t all have to follow that remit of course but a bunch would.

Option one:

Avengers Team building games night.

(You could have a bunch of different games as different episodes but this was my first thought)

Monopoly.

Tony: instantly winning, has all the money and is bragging about how he is obviously the best equipped.

Steve: is barely hanging on but claims it’s better to spend money on what the people need than be rich, fundamentally not what the game is about but it’s Steve.

Clint: keeps ending up in jail, claims he knows what’s happening but keeps checking the rules on his phone

Natasha: waits till the end of the game to pull thousands in Monopoly money from her back pocket to the total confusion of all involved. Points out that if anyone knows corruption it’s the Russian one.

Chewie/Goose: eats pieces while Carol observes watching the players frown at the pieces they were sure they put on the board.

Or what about this: individual character pieces.

1. We have some of the team try to teach Vision how to dress for an event, each having their own ideas of how to style clothes, ending in vision looking awful but wearing something each person suggested.

2. Actual intern Peter Parker, on a simple journey through the streets of New York to both collect a complicated coffee order for the team and make it back with all elements involved. Featuring: trying to read Tony’s hand writing, editing the poorly spelled names on cups, avoiding pigeons who REALLY want the croissant he got for himself. Etc.

Movie nights!

practise missions!

skill-sharing!

paintball!

Contests!

Baby sitting!

House rules!

So! Many! Possibilities!

Would love people to tag their own detailed versions and even more would love you to tag your fan made versions of some of these ideas.

Domestic avengers comics- we need you!

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camillafanfiction · 2 years ago

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Love changes everything - Chapter 6

14.11.1975, Clarence House

Charles had promised to have breakfast with his grandmother as a compromise. She had been less than pleased to know that Charles wouldn’t have afternoon tea with her as they usually did. And, if possible at all, she was even less pleased when she found out with whom he was going to spend the afternoon with instead.

The old Queen had several girls in mind that would make an excellent girlfriend for her darling boy and, even more important, an excellent future Queen. Young girls who were sweet, good-looking, untouched and, most importantly, had the right pedigree. She had Lady Sarah Spencer in mind or Princess Caroline of Monaco. Dear God, she would probably prefer Lord Mountbatten’s candidate, Lady Amanda Knatchbull, to Mrs. Parker Bowles. She’d probably prefer any girl to Mrs. Parker Bowles as long as they didn’t occupy her sweet little grandson as much as she did. All those years the Queen Mother had been the only woman that possessed his heart and she didn’t like that Camilla owned much more of it now than she did.

However, Charles’s grandmother didn’t want to spoil his birthday, maybe she should postpone the talk to another day. On the other hand, however, it couldn’t be too early to sensitise him on this topic.

„Have you met anyone nice recently, darling?“, she asked innocently and Charles almost spilled his tea. ��You might throw a little party. It’s not everyday that you turn 27. Lady Fermoy’s granddaughter turned 18 earlier this year and she told me it’s been a really lovely party. Have you met Sarah before?“ Her voice was sweet and caring, but Charles could see through it for once. He didn’t want to marry a woman 9 years younger than him. He was not interested in marrying anyone but Camilla, never had been since the first day he’d met her four years ago.

Charles chose to ignore her words and instead said „I was very much lauded for my German last week, granny. Thank you so much for practising a little with me. It was a huge success, really.“

„Oh, that’s wonderful, my darling Charles!“ she smiled but didn’t lose track of her intention. „But why are we talking so much about your work? What about the fun sides of life?”

Charles’ first impulse was to tell her that there weren’t many fun sides in his life, but then decided against it. There were fun sides, especially when he was with Camilla. She was still mourning and struggling, of course, it had only been a bit more than a month that Andrew had died, but she was coping and he was there to support her. He would give her all the time she needed and, Charles was sure, sooner or later she would realise that she loved him still and that they were meant to be together.

“Because you don’t particularly approve of my funny sides in life.” Charles stated bluntly. “And I don’t want to argue with you, dearest granny.” he added to console her and gave her a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Great goodness! What is that supposed to mean?”, The Queen Mother exclaimed, though she knew he was obviously talking about Mrs. Parker Bowles. “I didn’t know you were such a big fan of parties in clubs or me jumping big obstacles.” Charles had decided to not put any focus on Camilla. At the moment, it had no greater good and, indeed, he did not want to argue with his grandmother on his birthday. Instead, he wanted to be with Camilla as soon as possible.

Camilla had tried to bake a cake for Charles, just a simple chocolate cake, but, not very much to her own surprise, it hadn’t quite worked out as planned. The cake had an odd shape, though in a baking tin, and looked quite funny. However, it wasn’t burnt and trying it with caution she found out it was edible, after all. With a bit of chocolate glaze and a few candles, though not 27, Charles surely wouldn’t notice she had tried it…

Tom babbled happily as he was crawling around his mother in the kitchen and tried to lift himself up on the shelfs. He made Camilla smile though sometimes she still felt like crying the whole day through. She still hadn’t really grasped what had happened, but she was so grateful for her family and especially for Charles. Never ever would she take anything of what he had done for her for granted. He was an exceptional man.

Punctual like a clockwork, Charles rang Camilla’s doorbell at the stroke of 2 p.m. With Tom in her arm, Camilla opened the door just to find Charles covered from a bunch of flowers. “Hello you!”, he peeked through the flowers, which made both, Camilla and Tom, giggle.

“It’s not my birthday.”, Camilla almost pouted. “It’s yours!”

“Well, will you still let me in, though?”, Charles asked grinning. The rain was pouring down again and the inviting warmth of the house made him shiver.

“‘Course”, Camilla answered, let the baby down and then wrapped her arms around the prince. “Happy birthday to my favourite prince!”, she declared then and gave him a soft kiss on both cheeks. It made Charles shiver again, it was so good to be with her again. He hadn’t seen her for over a week now as he had been in Germany for two days and then had been busy with UK engagements. They'd talked on the phone, though, just briefly, but it had been better than nothing. “I hope you're hungry for cake because I made some. But don’t laugh… You know my baking skills…”, she grinned and led him into the dining room where she’d put up a little garland and decorated the table.

“You didn’t have to do that.”, Charles stated, but looked as pleased as fruit punch about the little birthday setup she had created.

“But I wanted to!”, she replied and smiled at him before she put Tom in his highchair. “And Tom desperately wanted some chocolate cake.”, she declared with a crooked smile.

“Milla, Tom is 11 months old, he doesn’t even really know what chocolate cake is yet.”, Charles retorted drily and couldn’t help but think just how adorable Camilla was.

In response, Camilla just poked her tongue out to Charles and they shared a good laugh. Charles noticed very well that she seemed to be in good spirits and that she laughed as heartily as he hadn’t heard her laugh ever since that tragic day in October. Camilla, too, noticed that today was a good day: it was Charles’ birthday, Tom had been a very good boy and she hadn’t thought of Andrew or her pitiful life all day. Actually, she had been so busy that she hadn’t had the slightest chance to occupy her mind with her late husband and it felt just so very good.

“How was Germany?”, Camilla wanted to know once they had put Tom to bed and Charles had lit the fireplace in the living room.

“Terrible because you couldn’t be with me,but taking everything else in account quite successful indeed.“ He didn’t quite know how but he suppressed the urge to kiss her as he sat down on the sofa next to her, though she looked absolutely to die for in her simple jeans and blouse. The fire made her hair even more golden and her eyes even shinier than they already were. “I am glad I was able to freshen up my German a bit again. Actually speaking it makes such a difference to practising with granny every now and then.”, he bubbled on to distract from his previous words.

“Nein.”, Camilla countered with the only German word she knew and for whatever reason the two of them giggled like small children. It could hardly be the wine as they hadn’t even emptied one glass. It didn’t matter, Camilla was feeling light-hearted for the first time in what felt like ages and she was just as glad about it as Charles.

“You’re being silly, darling.”, laughed Charles and, without intending it, grabbed her hand and pressed it. To his surprise, Camilla didn’t push him away or scold him, but looked at him in a way that reminded him of past times.

“Not at all!” Camilla shook her head vehemently, but couldn’t suppress a teenageish giggle. Then she turned silent for a moment and fixated Charles with her eyes. “I’m so thankful for you, you know.” Her blue eyes were watery, but in a good way, and in one quick movement she flung her arms around Charles’ neck and pressed him close to her chest. His smell felt like home, his arms felt like home, his heart beating fast against her chest felt like home. Charles had been her life saver, he really had been, still was. “I didn’t realise until those few weeks ago how much a hug meant…”, she whispered. “To have someone hold you can be the greatest medicine of all, really. And that’s just what you did to me. You held me. You still do.” Almost in a tender way that made Charles believe in something, her fingers caressed his neck and his whole mind ran riot.

“I love you, that means I’m not just here for the pretty parts. I’m here no matter what. I see every part of you, your soul, and I am staying.” He pushed her away a little, not far, just to see her eyes, and then brought their foreheads together. “I’m here for you. Always, my darling.”, he promised.

Usually, he wasn’t the strong part in their friendship, but this was different. He could help her and support her, be there for her. And he would wait a lifetime to see her beautiful, heartfelt smile on a regular basis again. He would… suddenly he felt sweet, soft lips on his and his mind was swamped. “Oh my darling,” Camilla breathed and placed another careful kiss on the birthday boys’ lips.

#King Charles III #king charles iii fic #king charles fic #queen camilla #queen camilla fic #au #royal fanfiction #royal fic #queen mother

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romerona · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4: The blind girl.

-In which the daughter of the Lord of Darkness who was born with the sole purpose of destroying the universe falls in love with Peter Parker-

Masterlist

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

"How long do you think it'll be until I start practising?" Asked Strange as he gazed over the students in the training area.

They were learning to cast a Tao Mandala, a protective shield. Mordo, along with two more masters were teaching the techniques, it used to be Wong's job to teach this lesson as one of the best masters around, but he was entrusted to guard the library since the night of Kaecilius and the Zealote's attack. Now, he only teaches a few times a week.

"It depends," Carina said, mulling over the same question she often asks herself.

"On what?"

"The Ancient One. She decides when a student is ready to start with practice, it could be weeks or months."

Stephen sighs heavily.

"If you want my advice I think you should start reading," Carina said, looking up at him with a tight smile. "She likes it when the students get familiarized with the arts and have a vast knowledge of it."

"That was part of the plan from the start," Stephen said, as they began to walk back inside the sanctum. "But you're still neglecting to show me where the library is."

"We're getting there," Carina said, smiling at herself. "I always leave the best for last."

"Well, hurry up kid, I want to start looking into the arts and that can't be possible if you keep dilly-dallying.'' Stephen huffs, rolling his eyes.

"But you haven't seen it all yet—"

"I saw what I needed to see. What else is there to see other than old walls and people in robes?"

"Plenty, this sanctum is rather big and for a novice like yourself it's a maze, you'll get lost."

"I doubt I will."

"Fine." Carina huffs silently, Stephen Strange is annoying. "Fine, all right, but don't come to me when you inevitably go exploring and can't find your way around."

"Who am I, Dora the explorer?" Stephen said as he follows Carina through the corridors, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "The last thing I'll do is go exploring. I want to start classes as soon as possible so I can have my life back."

"Your life back?" Carina muses, she looks up at him curiously. "You mean back before all the misfortunes?"

Stephen didn't look at her, his eyes stay strictly on the path they were walking. "Not that is any of your business but yes, I want my life back as it was."

Carina purses her lips, eyebrows furrowing as she thinks. "But... even after everything you know now, do you think you're life will be the same?"

"Listen, I don't need a child, out of all people, to tell me anything about my life." Stephen huffed indignantly, eyes snapping to hers. "I'll do the best I can to forget about all of it and move on."

She did her best to ignore the insult, although it did sting a little Carina remind herself she shouldn't have been nosy, and she should just do as told and give him the tour.

But her lips parted before she could realize and the words sprung out. "That's going to be difficult, I believe, you can't just erase the past, not when you learned something from it."

"Learned something from it?" Stephen repeated, shaking his head. "All I learned was that the medical field is full of incompetent doctors."

Carina observed him for a moment.

"You've got all this... anger." She said, head tilting. "You haven't let go of whatever happened to you yet, have you?"

"How about you—"

"You said you intend to move on but you're still so wrapped in the past to see forward."

Stephen glared ahead. "You're just a child, you won't understand."

Carina knew Stephen didn't want to speak about it anymore but she hoped her words make him revise his plans.

After a couple of silent seconds, Carina frowned and asked. "Stephen."

"What?" Stephen snapped.

"Who's Dora?"

"I– You don't know who Dora the explorer is?" Stephen looks down at her incredibly, his annoyance turning into confusion.

Carina shrugged. "It sort of sounds familiar but... I don't think I remember."

"Christ, kid." He scoffs. "It's a show about a girl that goes exploring with her monkey friend, usually popular amongst children."

"I can't say I know much of it, but I like Tangled."

"That's a movie...." Stephen trails off. "What exactly do kids do around here, anyway?"

"We have classes, the normal kind I mean, History, Literature, Science and sadly Mathematics," Carina Informed him, as they went down a set of stairs to get to the ground floor. "And we have Introduction into the Mystic Arts classes, the easy practice of magic and the history of magic too, which is probably what you want to start with."

"I take it you attend these classes," Strange said. "You can give me the books I need to start."

Carina's mouth pinches tighter before she speaks again "I don't participate in those classes."

Steven frowns, looking down at her. "I thought you said the kids—"

"They do." Carina interrupted him. "But according to the Ancient One, I'm not ready yet."

"So, we're both on the same boat," Stephen muttered, more as a fact than a question. "Fantastic."

Carina shrugged. "Partly. I can still help you with the books."

They were now walking through the south courtyard, some people were talking among each other, others were practising movements from past classes, others playing a game of checkers and others were in their personal bubble, either listening to music, reading a book or using their own electronic devices.

"Everything here feels modern yet old," Stephen said, his eyes moving around the courtyard. "For the aesthetic, I assume."

"I mean, there's more than just the aesthetic but — ओह, बकवास"

From afar Carina saw Eloise Colombo on her way to class, a blind girl that came from Italy a few months ago, and Carina's biggest problem.

Usually, the kids in the sanctuary are there because their parents are masters that decided to stay, or some of them are brought. Eloise was one of those kids. Her parents, who Carina had learned were wealthy and influential people, had brought her to the Kamar Taj a few years ago to heal her eyes.

Eloise hasn't been able to fix her eyes yet since to do that it's required an advanced type of magic, which they'll learn when older, until then she stays the same and in the sanctum.

Eloise dislikes Carina, and the latter was clueless as to why that was, then again, Carina hardly got along with the other children. At first, she thought they were friends, Carina even began to learn Italian for her, to speak with her but eventually, Eloise started distancing from her and before Carina realized it, Eloise began to bother her whenever they were in close proximity.

"Oh, is that who I think it is? the Agamotto disappointment!" Called one of the kids who usually sits with Eloise, Hanna, the daughter of one of the masters.

Eloise straight her back up when she heard her friend, a malevolent smirk painting her face, and Carina had no doubt her eyes shone mischievously behind her dark glasses.

"Is that true?" Her accent mixes with her words. "Ciao Carina, sei ancora senza talento?"

Carina rolled her eyes, she grabbed Stephen's sleeves and quickened her pace as she walked around them, ignoring their mocking laughs and Stephen's confused eyes.

Once they were out of sight, she let go of his robes and returned to her normal speed.

"Friends of yours?" Strange said sarcastically yet naturally curious about what happened.

Carina scoffs silently but loud enough for Stephen to hear, she runs a hand over her shoulder as it stung a little. "Not really, no."

Thankfully they arrived at the library so Carina didn't need to explain further her... relationship with Eloise, although she doubts Stephen wanted to know anything about her life anyway.

A/N: Hope you enjoy the short chapter. Please, tell me if you want to be tagged.

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maacwanowrie · 2 years ago

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The visual effects industry's future is being shaped by five developments

There is no need to explain the hype surrounding the incredibly popular design careers in India nowadays given the variety of possibilities on the market. Candidates who possess an artistic mindset and creative abilities should explore the field. Success and heights are assured with a design career from the MAAC Institute.

1. Artists don't use visual effects to economize on production

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers production saw the development of contemporary motion capture technology. The Matrix featured ground-breaking bullet time sequences, and Toy Story, the first fully computer-animated feature film, also emerged during this decade.

Several filmmakers in the 2000s and early 2010s overused visual effects and relied on VFX technology to speed up the production process due to favorable reactions to such improvements. The effects of these choices, according to Seals, who has worked on 30 films for VFX provider Luma Pictures, are still felt today.

"At the time, the available technology and resources weren't quite adequate to the task. The use of visual effects to solve issues was met with resistance from audiences, according to the Curtin alumnus.

"Today's audiences want filmmakers to make decisions on set that interact with the film's art, design, and language."

According to Seals, VFX artists in the future will continue to only produce things that can't be captured on camera.

What's a better product, he quips, than getting it in the lens?

2. There are health and safety exceptions

Artists will probably continue employing the technology to reduce on-set safety issues, particularly when reproducing firearms, explosions, and big crowds, even while the visual effects industry continues to strive for authenticity.

However, the COVID-19 outbreak has resulted in more requirements. As the cast and crew of Spider-Man: No Way Home were unable to travel to New York City while filming, Luma Pictures was charged with generating the city's backdrops.

Because of what Spider-Man is unable to do in real life, Seals explains, "We didn't just use visual effects to heighten the story, drama, and action: we used it to create Times Square, Madison Square, and everything in between."

3. The use of StageCraft LED technology is expanding.

The development of a production method dubbed StageCraft, developed in 2019 for Disney's The Mandalorian, is a significant advancement. Large 3D LED walls with computer-generated scenes that react to camera movements in real time are placed behind actors in StageCraft.

According to Seals, the technique, which is reminiscent of the days of projected backgrounds, provides directors more control over artistic direction during shooting.

"The cinematographer can respond to genuine imagery. They are no longer need to hazard a guess as to what is going on a blue screen, he claims.

The Mandalorian and other similar TV shows are currently held to the same standard as movies, thus I believe the outcomes speak for themselves.

4. Deepfakes are more convincing than ever.

You can find a variety of results by typing "deepfake" into a search engine like YouTube. Deepfaking is the practise of utilising artificial intelligence to substitute someone's face with another person's face for a photograph or video.

Some of the results are funnier than others, showing imagined situations in which popular on-screen characters played by other actors, such as actor Tom Holland playing Peter Parker in Spider-Man 2 instead of Tobey Maguire, while other results draw attention to the risks associated with the technology.

While visual effects technology has been used admirably in official and fan-made works, according to Dr. Stuart Bender, who studies psychological responses to high-emotion media, there are real-world dangers.

The first issue is that the average person might create deep fakes as a form of bullying using visual effects. Another issue is that government-sponsored PSYOP initiatives might create profound fakes of public influencers, according to Dr. Bender.

The public might start to doubt whether anything is a true image, much like we do when we wonder whether the news is phoney, according to a third, much more legitimate issue I have.

5. The sector is integrating itself into the entire production process.

The most exciting development is that visual effects teams are now involved in all stages of film production, not just post-production.

Throughout the pre-production stage as well as the production and post-production stages, more vendors are being entrusted with upgrading the graphics and choreography of pre-visualization sequences. The expanded use of StageCraft has also made it possible for VFX to be integrated throughout the entire procedure.

According to Seals, "Visual effects is evolving into a living, breathing entity that remains with a production until the very end."

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selfcarecap · 3 years ago

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Study Date [p.p]

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

request/summary: if you’re taking requests please could you write a fem!reader and peter where the reader has a crush on him but doesn’t think he would date her cos she isn’t the smartest at their school and really struggles with classes but he like cheers her up and helps her and maybe on a study date they kiss or something 🥺🥺🥺 please and thank you and i love your writing xxx

warning: me not knowing how to write in past tense… but still writing this fic in past tense?

word count: 3.3k (idk if this was a blurb request but i just read your request when you sent it in a few days ago and just … wrote)

-this is a repost of an old fic-

Saying you were nervous would have been an understatement.

You hated that the teacher waited until the last five minutes of the lesson to give back your tests.

Now everyone around you was smiling at their tests, everywhere you looked you could see people getting good marks.

So maybe that meant you didn’t do as bad as you thought.

You felt okay during the test. You knew you’d never get an A in maths, and that was okay. But while you were trying to solve the problems, you felt like you actually knew what you were doing for once.

You had studied the whole weekend. Saturday morning you got up and studied.You had lunch. Studied again. Had dinner. Studied again. Went to sleep. And repeated the whole thing on Sunday.

And yet, when everyone was discussing their answers afterwards, you had no clue what they were talking about.

But seeing everyone’s faces light up as they got their tests back, red A’s and B’s in the top right corner, made you a little more positive. Maybe you weren’t as dumb as you thought and there had been multiple ways of getting to the right answer.

You looked around and didn’t see a single disappointed face.

You couldn’t be the only one with a bad grade then. Right?

Your teacher, Mr Baker, looked at his watch and dismissed the class.

“Uh, I haven’t gotten my test yet,” you spoke up.

Mr Baker made a face as if he just remembered you existed and went through his bag, getting another piece of paper out. Your test.

You got up, walking past all the other students who were leaving and you went up to his desk.

Your face fell when you saw the big red F in the corner.

You didn’t have to look at the rest of the paper, the red was uncomfortably intense, covering half of the page with corrections and loads of those irritating question marks next to your answers.

Everyone else had left the classroom, and you didn’t know if that made the situation better or worse.

“Another one of those,” Mr Baker commented. He was trying to be sympathetic but it came out as condescending, a what-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-you tone as if you were the problem child.

“I see you’ve been paying attention in class. But sometimes that’s not enough. You have to practise, do the homework I give you. Maybe even a little more. This was the easiest test of the year, and you were the only one who didn’t get at least a B.”

He was still smiling, expecting you to thank him for his tips. As if you weren’t doing all of those things already.

And surely telling you you were behind every single person in this class wasn’t something teachers were encouraged to do.

“Ask me questions when you need to. I’m here for you. If you’re too shy to do it in class, you have my E-Mail and I’m always here a few minutes after class. Just practise a little and I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it, hm?”

He handed you your test, ready to leave now.

“I-I thought I understood it.”

“It’s all just practice, I promise. Now I have to get to my next class so..”

You nodded and left the classroom.

It’s all just practice, sure. It’s not like you spent twenty four hours studying for this test alone. You couldn’t always do this. You had ten other subjects, half of which you were nearly failing too.

How did people manage this? Why did you fail a test that everyone else got A’s and B’s on?

You walked towards the doors, relieved that most other students had gone home already so no one would see you fighting back tears.

Just as you were about to fold your test in half, not wanting to see the blunt F staring back at you anymore, you bumped into someone, dropping your test.

You looked up and it was Peter. Shit. You were about to bend down to pick up the piece of paper, but Peter beat you to it with his quick reflexes.

He picked the paper up, and you could tell he didn’t mean to look. But the red ink across the whole page caught his eye and he looked at the test for a split second before handing it back to you.

Fuck.

You shared many classes with him, and if the few times you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole class, not knowing the answer to the questions the teachers asked you wasn’t enough, now he just had to know you also failed the easiest test of the year.

He probably thought you were stupid already, but he didn’t have to see all the dumb mistakes you made on a test that he probably easily got an A* on.

When you grabbed your test, a tear slipped out of your eye and you couldn’t look at Peter as you walked away.

“Hey, no wait!” He called out.

You reluctantly stopped. You could feel more tears about to spill from your eyes, and after the humiliation of your crush seeing your failed test, you didn’t need him to see you crying too.

“Can- Can I have a look at that?” He asked, pointing at your test.

“You’ve seen the F already. If you want to make fun of me—“

“No! Not at all. I just, when I picked it up I saw your first step, but it’s actually the second step. And nothing makes sense if you skip the first step.”

“There are different steps?” You asked.

“Yeah- it’s not too hard. But um listen, I need to go now, but maybe you can text me and I can help you figure out where your mistake was. Only if you want to, of course.”

“Yes, sure, thanks-“

“Okay, great, bye!”

Before you could ask him for his number, he was gone.

After the much needed cry you finally let out at home, you wondered how you could get Peter’s number. You could text one of your friends to text another friend, so they could text another friend who you surely knew had Peter’s number.

But that just felt like it was too much.

Did he even mean it? Or was he making fun of you in some intelligent humour you didn’t understand?

Okay, you knew Peter wasn’t like that.

But the thought of texting him made you nervous enough, and you didn’t want to bother three other people in order to get his number in the first place.

So instead, you cried a little more over your test, looked at your notes from previous lessons, and understood less and less with every thing you read.

Eventually you fell asleep thinking about Peter.

Peter kept glancing at you from across the classroom the next day.

You simply didn’t want to annoy him and other people, that’s why you hadn’t texted him. But maybe he thought you were rude for not accepting his help. When, truly, you just didn’t want your crush to realise how different your levels of intelligence were. But he probably knew that already.

If it was obvious to him how stupid you were, you didn’t want him to think you were rude too, so in the next break you went up to him.

He looked right into your eyes, and you felt like he could see that you’d been crying the whole night, even if you looked surprisingly refreshed this morning.

“Hi um, sorry that I didn’t text you. I don’t have your number,” you said.

“Oh- I thought we were in that math group chat together?”

Mentally, you slapped yourself. Of course you were in that group chat. You were in so many different school related group chats with him.

It just kept getting worse.

“Oh well, yeah we are. But actually I just couldn’t be bothered thinking about maths yesterday. Do you think you could explain it to me now?”

“Yeah I-”

In that moment the bell rang and you had to get back to class.

“How about we meet after school?” He said.

“Sure. The library?”

“Um maybe somewhere where we don’t have to be quiet?” He asked.

Maybe you just shouldn’t say anything in front of Peter. It’s not that you didn’t think. Just sometimes the speaking happened before the thinking. But Peter probably just thought you were dumb. You probably were.

“We could go to mine.” He proposed, “I live with my aunt and she’ll probably be at work. Either way, she’s cool.”

“Okay, cool. Should we meet by the entrance then and walk to yours?”

“Cool. I mean yes, let’s do that. See you later,” he smiled weirdly before he left.

You met Peter after school and got lunch together, talking the whole way to his place. You ate first, and continued talking even when you were done.

You didn’t feel dumb for a single second.

Maybe you weren’t as dumb as you thought.

Maybe your grades at school didn’t always determine your intelligence.

Maybe you were just being dumb again though, and Peter was just a nice person to be around who didn’t care that he was way more intelligent than you.

Unfortunately, your conversation ended when Peter remembered what you were here for.

You didn’t want him to see your failed test again. With all the red ink and all your embarrassing calculation methods.

But Peter remembered what he had seen on your test the previous day, and started talking without you having to show him again.

First, he tried to cheer you up though. Which you appreciated.

“That test was so weird, I'm sure loads of people got a bad grade this time.”

“Nope,” you said, “Everyone had A’s and B’s.”

“I’m sure at least a few others were worse than that.”

“No. Mr Baker assured me of that. He went out of his way to let me know that I was the only one who failed it. It’s not like I didn’t think I was dumb already,” you looked away.

“Hey- who said you were dumb? Mr Baker is dumb. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing half of the time and just looks at the answer and writes it down without explaining anything at all.”

Sure, you’ve said those things about Mr Baker too. But it was more to find a justification why you’d failed another test, trying to convince yourself that you weren’t stupid, and it was someone else’s fault. When really it was your own fault.

But if Peter said those things about Mr Baker, maybe you weren’t entirely to blame.

“So for example he doesn’t tell us that there are multiple steps you have to go through. And when I saw your test, I saw you skipped the first one. Which isn’t your fault because Mr Baker doesn’t tell is about these steps,” Peter said,

“But I immediately recognised that that’s what happened to you because I made that mistake too when we first learnt this.”

Peter Parker makes mistakes? In maths?

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Oops, did you say that out loud?

“Anyway, so there are two different ways, both depending on that first step where you prove if X is.....”

An hour later you were writing down all the different steps Peter taught you, working out the answer to the problems on your previous test which Peter wrote down for you on another piece of paper.

But you were stuck on the last step, and you were unsure if you’d even gotten the previous results right.

“Okay time is over, this is how much time we had during the test too.”

You dropped the pen with an unsure breath, looking at the test on your lap.

Peter sat down next to you- you were leaning against the headboard on his bed. His bed was small, and suddenly Peter was really close. You gulped.

“Okay um I‘m stuck on the last step. But I don‘t know if the rest was correct though.”

“Let me see,” his leg brushed against yours when he leaned over to grab your test.

You saw him pulling out his green pen to correct your answers, but you didn’t look at the paper. He was way too close, you couldn’t concentrate on anything but his face that was mere inches away from yours.

He turned his head towards you, and you felt like you’d just been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do. Then you realised he was talking to you.

“W-what?”

“I always use my calculator for this last part. I don‘t actually think it‘s possible without a calculator.”

You looked down at your test, and there were green ticks next to every line. You tried to hide your smile, you didn’t want to get too hopeful because you got a few answers right.

“I don‘t think I brought my calculator.”

“Wait, you did all of this in your head?” Peter asked.

“Uhh.. yeah?”

“Woah.”

“That‘s not the part that‘s hard for me. It‘s more the logical thinking, I guess,” you explained.

He nodded, getting out his calculator. You typed in what you needed, and wrote down the answer, throwing Peter a fearful look.

He checked your answer, and gave you another tick at the end of it, adding a little :) at the end. You’d never gotten a :) on your maths answer.

Peter high fived you, but you were still confused.

“Wait, so that was it?”

“Yeah. You would have gotten an A-star on this one.”

This time you didn’t hide your smile.

Peter was still so close.

“You know the way you explained it with those steps? That was really helpful. No one‘s ever explained it to me like that. But now it makes sense.”

He just shrugged, grinning at you.

“Wait, there‘s also this really good Youtube channel. They have tons of videos that are really good. They also explain the exceptions when there‘s another step,” he said.

“What exceptions?”

“Oh, actually we haven‘t done those in school yet anyway, so you can just watch the videos once we actually do it in school. I‘ll send you the link though.”

You didn't want to sound weird, but Peter just did more for you than your teacher did in the last year, “So um do I pay you or is this just like…” You tried to find the right word.

“No- you don’t have to. We’re friends and it was just a small favour. I just saw your mistake right at the beginning and recognised it from when I used to do that, so I thought I could help.”

Woah.

Peter Parker considered you a friend.

You would have liked to disagree. You barely knew each other. But if you knew him well enough to have a crush on him, then he could know you well enough to consider you a friend.

There was a silence while you thought about that, and Peter started talking again.

“Actually, I was worried you’d think I was a dick. You didn’t ask for my help and I didn’t want to seem like a smartass or like I was mansplaining when I offered to explain it to you, so I was kind of worried when you didn’t text me yesterday.”

“No, not at all. I appreciate it a lot. I just forgot we were in that group chat and didn’t know how to get your number, but I’m glad we talked. Thanks for helping me.”

He simply nodded and gave you a smile.

You were still next to each other on the bed. Maybe it was just your imagination, but it felt like you were about to kiss.

Just as you saw Peter moving towards you even more, you heard the front door open, and a female voice greeting Peter.

He got off the bed quickly, “Uh that’s my aunt. She’s uh, home early.”

You followed him into the kitchen where you introduced yourself to his aunt. The good looks must run in his family, even though you weren’t sure if they were blood related.

“Peter has told me so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she smiled.

Before you could respond, Peter was talking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, May-”

“No, I’m sure I remember the name. Peter‘s been talking about you non-stop,” she grinned at you and you tried to stop your smile from taking up half of your face.

If you’d heard that yesterday, you would have worried what Peter said about you. Maybe he had told his aunt how dumb you were. But after three hours with Peter, you knew he’d never say something like that.

That night you stayed up until three a.m. watching the videos Peter sent you. You discovered they had multiple channels. Apart from maths, they also had physics, biology and chemistry videos- all the subjects you were bad at.

You never thought you’d enjoy studying, but watching those videos wasn’t half bad because finally you understood something, and you only stopped when you were too tired to pay attention.

Peter kept helping you with maths, and a few weeks later you wouldn’t disagree anymore if he said you two were friends.

You were at his place again, sat opposite of each other on his bed.

Just a week ago, you had another maths test. What you were writing had felt right, but in maths that didn’t mean anything.

The test was in front of you now, facing down, and you were too anxious to turn it around and look how you’d done. You didn’t want another F.

“What if I failed again?” You asked.

“Then we’ll just practise more, and you’ll pass next time,” Peter said.

He took your hand to calm you down, but it only made you more nervous.

“Last time he gave it to you personally, to talk to you. He didn’t do that this time, so that could be a good sign,” he tried.

“Maybe he’s just given up on me.”

“I don’t think so. Should I look at it for you?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

You took a deep breath, and before you could change your mind, you looked at your test.

Peter looked at you, “What did you get?”

And as loud as you could, you shouted, “I got a B!”

Peter’s whole face lit up along with yours, and you promptly kissed him.

You hugged him immediately after, shocked at your own action, and your eyes went wide behind Peter’s back.

You could feel his hands at your waist, but they were unsure and shaky.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I couldn't have done this without you,” you said, deciding to ignore what you just did.

You pulled away from the hug, looking at your test instead of looking at Peter.

But he was all fidgety, playing with his shirt, scratching his neck and the back of his head, and when you looked up at him his face was red. You felt bad.

“Um sorry, I shouldn’t have just kissed you- I was just um really happy.”

“No, no, that was okay,” he smiled.

“Okay?”

“No, like very okay. I mean uh- good. Nice”

You smiled.

You had just reduced Peter Parker, the guy who knew the answer to everything, the guy who was the smartest person at your school, to a stuttering mess.

“Okay,” you smirked.

“I-it was so very okay, that I would like to repeat it- if you wanted to, that is.”

You took a second to process his words, and then you kissed him again.

It was just a short, sweet peck, but it gave you a whole swarm of butterflies.

“How- how about maybe we could go on an actual date instead of just a study date tomorrow?” He asked.

“I‘d love that.”

And you kissed him again.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman #no this is actually so cute tho ahhh #selfcarecap #oh my god I just saw that I originally posted this a year ago omgg #peter parker imagine #Peter Parker x you

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wolves-in-the-world · 3 years ago

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I present: Quinn/Eliot (with ambiguous background ot3), except Quinn is a vampire and so was Moreau.

Involves: minor violence; slight kinkiness of the kind you might expect; no sex stuff beyond kissing; implications of past abuse. Also, potentially, ace vibes. Expect gentleness and absolutely no plot.

[2.4k, also on Ao3]

—

It's quietly known in certain circles, and suspected in many more, that Damien Moreau is a vampire. It's not the kind of thing people talk about, but the signs are all there: his skin always cool when you shake his hand; his charisma bordering on hypnosis when he's dealing with enemies and subordinates; the way he favours dark glasses and doesn't spend much time in the sun. (Sensitivity varies between individuals, yes, but it tends to get worse over time - avoidance of sunlight is a classic indication.) Even the way he dresses, if the stereotypes can be believed. Vampires maintain a certain image for a reason.

When Parker slips into his villa to explore and to loot, she makes notes of the layout, the odd design choices, the way the rooms with all those big windows can all be easily bypassed to reach anywhere important, the kitchen properly equipped and furnished but the cupboards almost bare. She'll share her suspicions with Nate, she decides, in case they need to make tweaks to his accommodations.

Of course, Eliot knows the truth of it better than anyone.

It takes him a while to find out about Quinn. He gets Eliot pinned on his front with his hand bunched up in Eliot's shirt and then just goes still, giving him the opportunity to get the upper hand again. When Eliot shoves him away and regains his feet, ready to rib him for it, Quinn's frowning at him like something's wrong.

"He bit you?"

His tone makes Eliot blink and reassess. He sounds almost incredulous.

(Quinn knows about Moreau, knows the team took him down. He's had half a mind to visit, because cells don't hold his kind very well and Moreau is just clever enough to bide his time and build power again if he ever gets out, but so far Quinn's held back to avoid stepping on the team's toes. And, frankly, because he hasn't had any jobs in the area.)

Eliot tugs his shirt back into place and glares at him. He doesn't maintain eye contact for long. "I did a lot worse to the people he sent me after."

Quinn waves a hand and rolls his eyes: well, obviously. His arms stay folded. "You were working for him."

At that Eliot has to scowl, because it sounds like Quinn's offended and that doesn't make any kind of sense. Sure, some people would look down on him for what he entered into, for being a world-class hitter and still letting that happen - but if this is what gets Quinn to think less of him, and his stomach's sinking at the thought of it, then there's not much he can do about that.

He keeps his face stony and pushes past Quinn to head for the changing rooms. He's had enough for today.

"I'd never treat someone like that," says Quinn, and Eliot stops to look back at him. Quinn's expression is serious: still frowning a little, eyes steady on Eliot. Like it's something that needs to be said. Like it's a thing he could actually do.

Eliot feels the reaction shiver through him, dissipating quickly as he gets a handle on himself. He hasn't thought of it as fear for years.

They've been meeting every few months since the dam job, to train or - once or twice - even work together. Eliot's enjoyed it, appreciated it, the chance to practise with a hitter of his calibre. He's been thinking it might be useful to pull Quinn in for team jobs sometimes, when his shoulder's acting up or they just need another body for the con. It's been hard to admit. Quinn being so easygoing made it easier.

And he's realising, suddenly, that he's never seen Quinn eat.

"Yeah, well," Eliot says, a beat too late to sound normal, "most people don't share your sense of ethics."

It's true enough, and Quinn says nothing as Eliot walks away. He doesn't enter the changing rooms until Eliot's clean and dressed and ready to leave, and by then Eliot's composed enough that he can chat and bicker like nothing's wrong. And it isn't, really. Quinn's been decent enough, and Eliot's not going to be a jackass.

The next time they work a job together, Eliot sees when instead of knocking someone out, Quinn pulls them round the corner and buries his face in their neck. Eliot yells "Quinn," and the body falls slack to the ground, and Quinn's head snaps up towards him. His lips are stained red, and his teeth are out. "I thought I told you I didn't want to be party to this."

"She's not dead," Quinn says, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. When he lowers it again, his lips are licked clean and the fangs are receding. "Giving people concussions isn't pretty either, Spencer."

Eliot grunts, not wanting to get into it, and satisfies himself with the fact that the guard is still pink-cheeked and breathing. It's a mild enough sedative at that small a dose - she won't be down for long. "You know how many women have low iron levels?" Eliot says, and it's a stupid thing to say, but it's something that isn't lingering on this.

"Yes," Quinn says patiently, "that's why I normally go for men. Relax, I know the rules. You want to lead the way or shall I?"

The first time Eliot really bleeds in front of Quinn, more than just a bruise or a graze, he's cooking in the brewpub kitchen after closing. It's the first time they've used Quinn for a job, not including the dam thing - the first time they've run a proper job since Sophie and Nate left. All considered, it went pretty smoothly. They'll have to avoid letting Parker and Quinn work together too much - the new taser Hardison made for her has cut down on messier incidents, but it's not like she needs the encouragement - but he thinks it's going to work out.

He's not even all that surprised that Quinn wants a taste of what he's cooking. Damien would eat sometimes, too, though mostly he only bothered with wine: more often whites when it was just himself, but always reds when he had a point to make. He liked the way people would look at the glass when he was drinking. He liked the effect it had on them.

And maybe it was a bad idea to let himself think about that, because Eliot's mind is years in the past when he senses the body behind his right shoulder and whirls around, knife in hand, the fumble-and-catch too quick and smooth for him to even register the pain.

"Shit," says Quinn, frowning at Eliot's hand. He's shifted half a step back, and his own hands are in view, and he doesn't look dangerous, but Eliot's ready all the same. He knows how Quinn fights, and he knows vampires, and he can handle this if he has to.

"You should get that under the faucet," says Quinn, and a little of the tension eases from Eliot's shoulders.

"I know what to do with a damn cut," he snaps, turning for the sink. Behind him, he can hear Quinn moving, but he doesn't come any closer. "You should go. I'll dish some up for you with the others' when it's ready."

"I'm a hitter, Eliot." Quinn sets the first-aid kit on the side, opening it, and casts Eliot a level look. There's a touch of amusement in his slight smile. "And I'm insulted. Want me to get one of the others instead?"

"No," Eliot says quickly, because Hardison's squeamish and Parker's getting better (if not particularly gentler) but he doesn't want to explain this little hiccup until he has to. And it is an annoyingly placed cut. He could dress it himself - has done in the past - but it'll go much easier with help.

"Fine," he growls, turning off the tap with his elbow and letting Quinn shift closer. Quinn takes his wrist and surveys the damage. "But keep it in your gums. If you bite me, I'm biting back."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Quinn says absently, reaching for the gauze.

The first time Eliot pulls Quinn against him in the flush of victory after a job well done, backing up until he hits a wall and Quinn presses him readily against it, he kisses up along Quinn's neck and jaw and Quinn just stays close against him, nose tucked briefly into Eliot's hair.

Eliot breaks off and draws back, still pressed against him, still grasping his arm. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," Quinn says, his expression guarded.

"But?"

"I'm not sure what you want."

Eliot hesitates, trying to work his way to what this situation needs. He wants to make it a joke and pull Quinn in for a kiss, dismiss this attempt at a conversation, but that doesn't seem fair. "This... isn't just a bit of fun for me."

"I know that."

"Then what-"

"I just want to make sure," Quinn says with visibly fraying patience, "we only do what you want to do."

Oh. Huh. That's... pretty irritating, actually. He has a sneaking suspicion the implications would be dizzying if he had more space to think about it. As it is, proximity makes it simple. "I want to kiss you." His voice comes out rough. He tangles his fingers into Quinn's hair, dislodging the hair tie, and Quinn draws in to meet him. "No teeth," Eliot murmurs, when they're only an inch apart.

And Quinn kisses him, perfectly well-behaved, at least until Eliot deepens it and they both get a bit distracted.

It's not all easy. For one thing, in the interests of openness with his family and his team knowing all the variables, he has to fill them in - only to find out that Hardison already knew (some old security footage in which Quinn hadn't quite been careful enough) and Parker had already been confided in. It leaves Eliot a little flustered, that he worked himself up to this for nothing.

"Well, I mean, I won't say we weren't worried," says Hardison, "but if this is something you want to do-" and Eliot can see him forging on past the innuendo possibilities there, damn him "-you should."

"And if he tries anything," Parker says, landing her fist in her other palm, "I'll beat him up for you."

It's all very matter-of-fact, and very sweet and very them, and Eliot's dying a little inside. Parker pats his hip on the way past, smiling sunnily at him, and Hardison swoops in to kiss his cheek. Eliot's left growling at an empty room, which even he can admit is a bit much. He sighs, shoulders dropping, then he goes to find Quinn.

Several months have passed since that conversation. Quinn's lying on the sofa at Eliot's apartment - not quite a safehouse by their standards, but safe enough all the same - and Eliot's straddling him, kissing him soundly and taking his time. It's a leisurely thing, neither of them with anywhere to be except here with each other. There's a flush in Quinn's cheeks from last night's job and accompanying snack, and Eliot's enjoying watching it darken.

"You can bite me if you want," Eliot murmurs against his mouth. It's something they've talked about. It isn't something they've done yet.

Quinn shivers beneath him and Eliot frowns at it, forgetting for a moment that he doesn't feel the cold. He's shifting his weight back to grab the blanket from the back of the sofa when Quinn pulls him down and kisses him again, catching Eliot's lip between his teeth, letting him feel the blunt tips of his human fangs. Eliot doesn't expect they'll stay blunt for long.

"Make me," Quinn murmurs, and nips at him again before pushing him away.

Eliot wasn't expecting a fight today - he's still bruised from a run in with some unexpectedly well-trained security - but it's possible Quinn goes easy on him. Very possible that neither of them are treating it like a proper sparring bout. It's a cursing, then a tussling, then Eliot getting Quinn pinned at least momentarily with an arm against his neck.

"Want to keep going?" Eliot says, a little more breathless than this short scuffle calls for.

Quinn raises an eyebrow at him. "Well, if you'd rather fight instead..."

Eliot moves his arm to offer him his wrist, and Quinn gives a very smug smile, straightening up as Eliot eases off him. Eliot runs his fingers through Quinn's curls as a distraction from the bite.

The sedative effect won't knock him out, not with his acquired resistance, but it warms him through like he's been drinking and leaves him a little boneless. His hand slips down to Quinn's shoulder as the feeling spreads through him, his eyes half-closed. It's not a feeling you ever forget. It's not a feeling Eliot had expected - or hoped - to feel again. But here, with the smells of Quinn and home, with the months of sparring and learning to feel safe enough to sleep around each other, it's okay. It's quite a bit more than okay.

Quinn kisses Eliot's forehead when he's done, teeth bumping against his skin, and tugs Eliot down to settle with him on the floor. The first thing Eliot stirs enough to do is pull him in and kiss him clumsily, tracing the sharp tips of Quinn's teeth with his tongue. He withdraws just a little at the faint tang of metal.

The second thing he does is call Quinn a jackass for playing dirty. From the satisfied look on Quinn's face, it's not a tactic he particularly regrets.

For another thing that makes this a little less than easy, Quinn's gotten more intense about the Moreau situation. It's simple: Eliot doesn't want Quinn to have that blood on his hands (a phrasing he only uses once, because it makes Quinn laugh until he actually cries a little) and Quinn doesn't want him to think that Moreau might possibly get out one day. It's an impasse. Regrettably, one of them is human and theoretically falls prey to things like flu, and the other is more than willing to wait for that opportunity to go tidy up this particular loose end.

Eliot isn't a fool though, so he sets out contingencies and calls in help. If Quinn ever tries it, Parker and Hardison will be ready to catch and stop him, and they're just the start of it. Quinn's looking forward to it. He doesn't get challenges often.

Besides, he can be patient. He's pretty sure he'll convince them some day.

[a short epilogue]

#quinn might be a murderer but he has Manners and Standards and Rules #he's a very well-behaved monster when he hasn't been hired to beat you up #*quinn voice* ''okay so you worked for him and he bit you sometimes. did you at least have a union??''#my muse is out of control and this entire thing was a bewildering accident #so I'm not going to apologise for making them exceedingly soft actually #I started with the thought 'oh no the eliot moreau relationship really makes sense if moreau's a vampire actually'#and then quinn elbowed in like ‘excuse me. me too but I'm not a jackass about it. <3′#I have more thoughts on the au if anyone wants them because my muse. as I said. is out of control.#you would not believe how much I grappled with whether to make this 18up or not #before remembering what YA romance novels can be like #and also maybe looking up specific buffy episodes to be sure yes shh #quinn leverage #leverage #fics #vampire quinn au

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deskofninak · 3 years ago

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Three is the Magic Number, Pt. 3 // TASM!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

[Spoilers for No Way Home]

Masterlist // Series Master Post

Summary: When Doctor Strange accidentally opens the multiverse while trying to help Peter Parker, reader gets swept up into the mess. A magic user training at the Sanctum Sanctorum with secrets of their own, they attempt to navigate a universe where multiversal beings are spilling in and causing trouble, all while struggling with their own magic. And then a certain version of Peter Parker catches their eye.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue

Notes: Gender Neutral!Reader, reader is a magic user and an avenger, death, talking about grief, use of ‘Y/N’.

Word Count: 1823 | 2 sections

Not for the first time, you wondered whose bright idea it had been to put a shield on the Statue of Liberty. You were all here as were the super powered individuals from the other dimensions. Peter, not your Peter, the other younger Peter, had made you promise to stay on the sidelines and despite your initial reservations, you had agreed.

The conversation on the roof had really helped you. Those thoughts had been swirling over your head quite persistently and it had felt amazing to tell someone who hadn’t judged you for being selfish. And the hug, well … you felt a little bad about that. Yes, you’d needed comfort in that moment but you didn’t want Peter to think that you were the same person he had known in his universe. It had been years since his version of you had died and it was for the best if he learned to move on. You would not get in the way of that.

You were hidden away safely in the lab while Ned opened a portal to the Statue of Liberty for the three Peters to step through. You had your palms cupped, attempting to channel your magic. You wouldn’t tell any of them about this until you felt like you were making progress, and you did have to admit that the pulsing blue light appeared stronger than it had in months. You would just have to keep practising and believe in yourself.

That last part would be tough. But you would practice that too.

You were concentrating so hard that you didn’t notice that Ned’s attempts to close the portal were not working. It wasn’t until the ugly lizard came through the portal right into the lab, chasing Ned and MJ around the work tables, with Peter at its heels, did your concentration break.

The more that you had been channelling your magic over the last half hour, the more easily it had flown. Gone was the indecision that made your magic dry out from constant use. Your friends needed you and you didn’t need to save everyone. You just had to save as many of them as you could.

And so just as the lizard sailed toward you, you conjured an orb and sent it crashing into the giant reptile. The blow wasn’t as powerful as you had intended it to be but it was enough to startle the creature into careening right back out the portal again.

Ned, now on the other side of the portal, turned to look at you with his jaw open. “Whoa.”

“I think my magic is back,” you said, grinning exuberantly.

“Awesome!” said Ned, matching your intense joy.

You ran out the portal to the other side, closing it securely behind it. Nat’s voice rang out in your head. First, make sure there are no civilians around. “I need to get you two far enough away from here to be safe but close enough so I can keep an eye on you. Portals aren’t really my speciality and Ned, let’s not open any more of those until we learn how to close them. Yes?” Ned nodded. ‘Great.”

Digging deep into your magic reserve, you took your friends by the arms, Ned on one side, MJ on the other, and did something you hadn’t done in six years. And it would really be a shame if this did not work because you would all definitely plummet to your deaths. But you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take so here goes nothing.

All three of you screaming, you stepped off the edge of the scaffolding and … didn’t fall. You were actually flying. Not just solo, but with two people in tow. Every inch of your skin was channelling magic. Feeling it flowing this freely after years made you feel like you were breathing again for the first time.

The magic gently carried the three of you to the ground. Ned and MJ immediately ran off, away from the entire scene which was likely to murder them in seconds. You turned and flew right back up to the scaffolding. Looking around, you managed to locate all three Spider-mans, although it was a little hard to tell them apart in their Spidey suits.

There was a plan and it involved the three Peter Parkers saving the day and the rest of you staying safe. So you positioned yourself accordingly - you wouldn’t go gallivanting into the midst of the scene which would likely only confuse all the Peters and make them very concerned about your safety. Instead, you would stay on the sidelines, making sure they were protected from every single threat. Yes, they had their Peter-tingle but they might not be able to dodge the very many threats present at that moment.

You began working on the super-specialised shields that Strange had been teaching you about over the last few months. You understood the theory of it all but had never been able to accurately cast one due to your diminished powers. But, as they say, no time like the present.

The spellwork was detailed but you were nothing if not focused. You cast a quick invisibility spell on yourself and got to work, focusing on one Spider-man at a moment, making sure the lines of the shields were following the regulated patterns of their suits while also being fine enough that they wouldn’t distract the Peters from their work. It especially helped that since your magic was blue, you could camouflage it with the colour of the Spidey suit.

However, you were so focused on the complex spellwork that you didn’t see one of the Electro blasts heading in your general direction. All you registered was a strange burnt smell close to you and in the next instant, you were lying on the scaffolding with the section next to you completely scorched.

One of the Spider-mans was hanging over you, his hands on your waist. “Are you okay?” he said, ripping his mask off. It was Peter from the rooftop, his hands shaking as he looked you over. “Are you hurt?”

“How did you- I was invisible!”

“Are you hurt?” His voice was frantic.

“No, I’m okay. You saved me. I’m fine.”

“Oh, thank God. It was the Spidey sense. I could tell you were about to get hurt and - I was so afraid. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Are you okay?”

His face crumpled and you quickly pulled him down into a hug. “It’s okay. We’re both okay. You saved me. We’re okay.”

He pulled away and helped you up. “They’re okay,” he shouted out to the other two Peters, both of them looking at you, clearly alarmed. They must’ve sensed the danger to you too.

Peter turned back to you again. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on the other side of the portal, like you promised.”

You spoke quickly. “Ned couldn’t get the portal shut and then my magic started to work and so we all stepped through and I got Ned and MJ safely away from here but now since my magic is working again, which is super cool, I thought I’d stay and make sure the three of you are safe as well.”

You were panting by the end of it. A hint of a smile appeared on Peter’s face. “Your magic is back?”

“Yeah! All of it. All thanks to you.” You beamed at him.

He opened his mouth to say something but another Electro bolt landed nearby and you both snapped to attention.

“I’ve got shields on all three of you. It’s highly specialised spellwork and I’ve done a fantastic job if I do say so myself. Now get out there and kick some butt.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, planted a kiss on your forehead and flew off.

You couldn’t fight the smile that climbed onto your face.

You waited until you were sure your Peter had injected the serum into the man known as Green Goblin before hopping onto the fallen remnant of Liberty’s shield. “You guys did it,” you said, smiling at them all. “Strange is setting up the spell to close the multiverse. You guys can go back to your universes now.”

Your Peter exchanged a quick hug with his multiverse versions and ran off to talk to Strange. Ned and MJ had also arrived on the scene and were waiting for him. You turned back to the other two Peters. Once again, the older of the two seemed to sense that you wanted to talk to his younger counterpart.

“Thanks for the shield,” he said, stepping away. Your shield had helped deflect a weapon of the Green Goblin that would have otherwise resulted in the eldest Peter Parker being stabbed. Beaming, you nodded and turned your attention back to the Peter Parker who had come to mean so much to you over a very short period of time.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” he said. “That was some cool spellwork out there.”

“That was some cool Spider-manning out there.” He let out a bark of laughter, as did you. “Tell me about them?”

He furrowed his brows. “My version of you?”

“No.” You smiled and then sighed. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

He shot you a sheepish grin. “That obvious?”

“What’s their name?”

“Gwen. She used to go to my high school and we live in the same apartment building now. She’s nice.”

“And you haven’t asked her out because?”

He sighed. “I-”

“Peter, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Since your version of me isn’t here, as someone who is literally them, I know they would want you to move on and be happy. They would want you to forgive yourself.”

Tears began crowding in his eyes. “What if something happens and Gwen gets hurt? I can’t lose her too.”

“First of all, a bizarrely wise person once told me that it’s not about saving everyone, it’s about saving as many people as you can. And that you should never use that as an excuse to not live your life. Second, you saved me today. If you dated this Gwen, the safest place for her on the planet will be right next to you, I know it.”

He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, laughing a little. “That bizarrely wise person you know sounds amazing. And you’re pretty bizarrely wise yourself”

You looked at Strange standing over the Statue of Liberty. “The spell is almost done. I’m not going to lie, I’m going to miss not having you in this universe.”

“I’m going to miss being in this universe.”

As you smiled at each other, you knew exactly what the perfect parting gift would be. You stepped closer at the same time, lips brushing each others’, his fingers interlacing with yours.

Peter smiled against your lips.

Like coming home.

xxx

Thank you so much for reading this! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina

Taglist:

@haileysshrine @calums-betch @teenwolfgirl90 @jannieka394

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #marvel #peter parker fanfiction #no way home #no way home spoilers #spiderman no way home x reader

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tricksters-captain · 4 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes imagines - Won’t you take it back?

AN: I don’t think this is my best Bucky fic but it’s inspired by my favourite Billie Eilish song ‘I love you’.

Summary: On a flight back home from a mission, Bucky admits his feelings to you.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,527

Warnings: ANGST, set pre infinity war and endgame but post civil war, Sad Bucky... Unrequited Love... Right person, wrong time love...

You sat back against your chair and closed your eyes.

Your whole body ached from the mission but at least you were on your way home.

It hadn’t meant to be too strenuous a mission especially since it was just you and Bucky sent out but you had run into more trouble than you expected. Now your muscles were paying for that.

“You okay?” Bucky asked you as he watched you from his own seat.

“Just tired.” You lazily opened your eyes to look at the man.

His dark hair was tied back out of his face but a few strands had escaped and were hanging loosely by his eyes.

“Are you okay? You took a pretty bad beating back there.” You knew Bucky could handle it but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“I’m fine.” Bucky assured you.

“You sure?” You cocked your eyebrows at the man. “Looks like those cogs are turning to me.”

Bucky chuckled quietly as you tapped your temple with your index finger.

“These flights just... They’re killing me.” Bucky scratched the back of his head as he leant forward.

“It was Tony’s idea that we take a red eye. Means he doesn’t need to reorganise his entire day if we arrive in the morning to brief him on the mission.”

“I get the concept of a red eye but in practise it makes me wish we never even learnt to fly.” Bucky couldn't help but grumble.

“If we weren’t flying right now, we’d probably be on some ship and that would take even longer to get back to the compound.” You said as you peered out of the window at the night sky.

“I wouldn't mind that.” Bucky admitted, lifting his hand from the chair’s arm and slapping it back down.

“Yes but Steve would.” You turned back to Bucky with a smile. “His best friend and his girlfriend leaving him at the compound for even longer than necessary without back up against Tony and Natasha... He wouldn’t be happy.”

Bucky’s smile faltered at the mention of Steve.

You didn’t notice.

“You ever think about what our lives would have been if things were different?” Bucky asked you after a short moment of silence.

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously.

“What if you had met me before you met Steve?”

“Well I probably would have had my ass handed to me.” You reminded him that if that was the case then you would’ve met Bucky as the Winter Soldier.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky murmured, shifting in his seat.

“Then what did you mean, James?” You smirked at the man.

“I meant what would have happened if you fell for me instead of Steve...”

You were hoping it was some kind of trick question but the dark intensity in Bucky’s blue eyes relayed to you that it was serious.

“What?” You laughed slightly to try and break the tension in the air.

Bucky didn’t repeat himself.

“Buck...” You started. “That type of question isn’t... I can’t answer...” You struggled to find the right answer.

“It’s alright.” Bucky brushed it away. “It was a stupid question.”

The pain in Bucky’s eyes as he looked away made your heart seize.

“Bucky...” You said softly, leaning forward slightly. “Buck, you know I love you.”

“Not in the way I want.” Bucky’s head shot back to look at you again.

“Bucky...”

“I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky confessed. “I love you the same way Steve does. The same way every guy who spends more than five minutes with you does. I love you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Buck...” You shook your head as you rose from your seat.

“Yes I do.” Bucky’s eyes followed you as you stood but he remained in his seat.

“No, no you don’t.” You turned your back on the man. “You can’t mean that. Y-You can’t mean that, Bucky, because I’m with Steve. I’m with your best friend. You can’t say that. You can’t tell me you love me...”

“But I do.” Bucky’s voice held as much pain as his eyes had. “I love everything about you. I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you always go for the same knife because you think it’s lucky, I love––”

“––Bucky please!” You cut him off, spinning around to face him again.

He was now standing. Only a mere few feet away from you.

“Take it back.” You whispered. “Please just take it back and I’ll forget you ever said anything and things won’t have to change.”

“They already have.” Bucky’s eyes began to water as he pushed a sad smile onto his face.

The smile made your chest ache.

“Buck...” You pressed your hand to your forehead as you closed your eyes. “Tell me you’re lying. Tell me this is all some kind of joke.”

“I have loved you from the start. I loved you before Steve did.” Bucky couldn’t lie about that.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked.

You watched a tear roll down Bucky’s face as he let eyes drop to the floor for a moment.

“Because it was too late. When I saw you and him at the party, I-I... It was too late for me.”

“You were my best friend, Buck.. You could have told me.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

You closed your mouth, your jaw clenching as you searched for the right answer.

But you couldn't find one.

Piercing; your eyes stared back at Bucky’s with more words than you could ever say.

And within the blink of an eye, Bucky stepped towards you; wrapping his hand behind your neck and pulled you towards him.

He kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

The kiss was rough, desperate, his lips fought against your own. His salty tears rolled down into the kiss, onto your tongues. His hands scrambled for your skin, he touched your neck, your cheeks, your hair...

But you only let the kiss last what felt like seconds before you pulled away.

“I can’t...” You gasped for air as you managed to tear yourself away from him.

Bucky tried to step towards you again but you took a step back this time.

“Bucky.” You whispered. “No.”

“(Y/n)...” Bucky’s eyes sought after yours.

You touched your lips with your fingers and let your eyelids close.

What had you done?

...

“I won’t tell Steve if that’s what you’re worried about.” Bucky’s voice broke through your thoughts. You had been stood in silence for longer than you realised.

“Bucky...” You went to speak but Bucky stopped you.

“Will you just do something for me?” Bucky asked, his hands now resting on his hips.

You nodded; not trusting your voice.

“Will you just... Next time you’re with Steve will you just look at him. Just really look at him and ask yourself is he who you really want?”

“Bucky that’s ridic––”

“––Will you just do that?” Bucky sounded desperate. Almost angry. “For me? Just do that for me? Please.”

You chose not to respond but he knew it wasn’t a no.

Bucky walked past you to disappear into the cockpit to give the both of you some time.

You sat back down in your seat and pulled your knees up to your chin. You buried your face into your knees as you tried to block out what had just happened.

Bucky, your best friend, your boyfriends best friend had just confessed his feelings for you and then kissed you. And you kissed him back.

You felt yourself start to cry but it wasn’t out of guilt but frustration.

...

After a while, Bucky returned from the cockpit. He figured he couldn’t hide in there for the entirety of the flight without annoying the pilot.

As he made his way back, he found you asleep in your seat with a frown painted across your features.

He sighed quietly.

He reached up and pulled a blanket out of the compartment above your head. He placed it over you gently before stroking his hand over your hair.

He knew what he had done was wrong. He loved you but he also loved Steve. You were Steve’s and he had stolen a kiss that didn’t belong to him.

When you next opened your eyes, you had landed. You figured the fight with Bucky must've exhausted you enough to cause you to actually fall asleep.

Bucky was already at the door waiting for it to open.

You stood and stretched but you didn’t meet his eye.

“Welcome back.” Steve’s voice greeted the both you as you finally exited the plane.

Steve hugged Bucky warmly before he turned to you.

“Hey handsome.” You smiled brightly as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Hello gorgeous.” Steve greeted you back with his own tight embrace.

As your chin rested on Steve’s shoulder, you watched Bucky look back at you. He pressed his lips into a thin tight line as he slowly backed away to head inside the compound.

“You alright?” Steve asked as he pulled away.

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

AN: This was something a bit different but I hoped you liked it all the same.

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch @thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx @avenging-parker @delilahsdaydream @thanossexual @bibliophilewednesday @soccer-100000 @smolanxiousdeku

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #Steve rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #the avengers #imagines #Sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagines #Sebastian Stan x reader #one shot

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kaylans-imagines · 4 years ago

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solare

pairing: peter b. parker x fem! cheerleader! reader

solare: an italian word to describe a person who brightens the room, who is warm, good, and cheerful; who also worries about others.

Synopsis: in which peter benjamin parker finds the personified version of warmth and happiness.

Peter Parker had endured a lot throughout his life. He had lost his uncle, his life for five years, then he came back, and then lost his mentor. It was a wonder to him and everyone else that he found a way to continue pushing through and fighting the fight for good, even if he at times couldn’t exactly figure out just why he was doing an unpaying job. He would push away those thoughts and remind himself that he did it for the little guy, for the underdog, for the people like him before he got bitten. Still, there were days when the darkness would cloud over his mind, and he would spiral into sadness.

His Aunt May had suggested he go to a counselling group, someplace where he could express himself without fear of judgement or illwishers. Where he could find people he could relate to and for once have people care for him. He had dismissed that idea by claiming he didn’t have the time to do, too occupied in burying himself with his schoolwork, Spider-Man duties, and keeping up his social life. That was the end of that conversation, but he still couldn’t help but yearn for some type of way to release all the negative emotions that weighed heavily on his mind and his heart.

He had admittedly been distant from his friends and from his Aunt May, but he couldn’t find it in himself to find something to talk about. He was thrust into a world that he didn’t recognise anymore. It had been five years, and in those five years, people had grown up, and things had changed drastically. Much like the person in the mirror, he didn’t recognise his surroundings when he looked around. He could only hope he wouldn’t drown and get stuck in a flood of uncertainties, in this new time without his mentor to guide him.

He sighed through his nose as he swung around the lit city, back towards the comfort of his own bedsheets. He couldn’t wait to get lost under the sea of blankets and find comfort in the sounds of the bustling city. Spending all of his life in Queens, he grew accustomed to the yelling, the loud honking of horns, and the busy street life that now offered him solace. A haven. A source of relief he wasn’t able to find elsewhere. The confinements of his blankets and the sounds of New York gave him the ease he needed.

Assuring his aunt that he was back home and alive, he quickly slipped into his bedroom and snuggled under the covers, relieving himself of the tension he carried. His mind fell into a trance of serenity and easiness as it wandered through happy memories he savoured—recollections of his Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and himself at the beach when he was younger. Uncle Ben and him bonding over ice cream while they walked in Central Park—Peter would point out a dog in the distance, Ben would look at it and then his nephew and chuckle, promising that when they get a bigger home, they will get a dog. He reminded himself of when he helped May with the gardening; it wasn’t much gardening, just a few pots on their balcony, but it was peaceful.

His life was a routine. Every morning, he would wake up at the same time, have a quick breakfast, kiss his aunt goodbye, and the rush towards the train where he would go to school and meet Ned by his locker. The school day would cease, and he would go to decathlon practise until it was over, then make his way towards Delmar’s, which had re-opened in the five years he was blipped, and then complete the leftover homework he needed to do until he had to go on with his Spider-Man duties. It was the same, except for weekends, every day, and he was okay with that. It helped make his life easier—knowing that there were no surprises or changes in his day-to-day life made it easier for him and helped unburden him from the weight he carried with him.

The day he met Y/N had been a good day. He hadn’t missed his train that morning; Flash wasn’t up to his usual antics, choosing to ignore him and flirt with an uninterested cheerleader, and he had a good feeling about the History exam in his third period. That was until he stepped into his Physics class and was informed of the new seating chart being projected in front of the class. He and Ned had been able to bypass the seating chart for two quarters already, but they both knew their luck would fizzle out and they would have to be separated. Peter hoped he would get seated with someone he knew, so long as it wasn’t Flash. He would take being a stranger's partner over being Flash’s partner any day. Sighing in relief when he didn’t see his name next to Flash’s, he searched for him on the screen.

Peter Parker and Y/N Y/L/N, table 08.

Peter wasn’t good at making friends. He tried, but he always came off too strong or not strong enough. He was painfully awkward and stumbled over his words. He would also talk about something no one else was interested in and come off as weird and a ‘nerd’. Over time, he was able to be okay with having one friend, and just recently, his newfound group of friends. To force himself to make small talk with a new person made his stomach churn. He wished he could have May’s social skills and welcoming nature.

Exhaling to relax the nerves building in his stomach, he made his way towards the table with a paper eight taped on it. It might have been the fact that the window was right beside the table or the fact that Peter hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but he swore he saw a glow bouncing perfectly off the silhouette seated on the hard stool closest to the window. She was looking out the window, perfectly content on looking at the garden Midtown had decided to grow during the five years half the population was gone. It was a beautiful garden.

Shuffling on his feet, he dragged himself to the seat next to the seemingly glowing girl with intentions of sitting down without making noise, not to pull her from her gaze, but the universe had other plans. His toe met the stool’s hard metal, making the girl snap out of her daze and look at Peter with mild surprise. He was fully expecting her to lash out at him, to ask him why he needed to make so much noise, and he was fully ready to apologise. But the questioning never came, and neither did his need to apologise. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and concerned eyes.

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt,” she spoke with a lightness in her tone he had never heard before. New Yorker’s were usually brash and straight to the point; there was no place for airiness or lightness in voices. They didn’t care about anyone else but themselves and their loved ones. To feign importance in the busy city, one had to speak with importance. She was a breath of fresh air to him, like the feeling of the seaspray on his face when he steps into the ocean. Around her, he felt at peace.

“I-I’m Parker, no,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself, “I’m Peter.” This was the part where people would smile at him with fake sincerity, shake his hand, and make some excuse to leave. He was waiting for her to look at him with judgement and refuse to shake his hand. He wasn’t expecting her to take his hand into hers and shake it with a giggle.

“Next to meet you, Parker Peter. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” she introduced. She drew him in by the way she stared at him, so deeply and with intrigue, and kept him wanting more of her presence in the way she spoke, with confidence but kindness. He was sure this was someone he needed in his life, someone he had to keep around. She was like the sun, and the sky rolled in one, someone he couldn’t help but stare at.

They shared shy smiles, sneaking glances now and then. Peter couldn’t focus on his teacher’s rambling, too entranced by the body sitting beside him. From the corner of his eye, he could see her scribbling in her notebook, following along with what the teacher was saying. He could see little drawings on the corner of her paper; small hearts, smiley faces, and infinity signs taking up the corner. The sight of the doodles filled his heart with warmth; they were adolescent like and riddled with innocence. They were endearing, just like her.

The class seemed to drag on, and Peter was barely able to keep up. His mind was in another world; thoughts of protecting the city after homework to what he would have for dinner. A small part was thinking of the pretty girl who doodled on the corners of her papers. She had drawn a small smiley face on his paper at one point and sent him a smile when he looked at her afterwards. She had made a long class, that usually felt like it dragged on, shorter and yearning for more time. If anything, just to sit there and be in her presence.

The bell signalled the ending of the class, and Peter slowly stood up. He packed his belongings as slowly as he could. He looked to the side; she put her books into her bag - they were all colourful and decorated with glittery and bubble stickers. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She sent him a smile and stood up from her chair, pushing her chair in slowly.

“Bye, Parker Peter. See you, next class,” she said sweetly with a wave and exited the class, a happy and light bounce to her step. He watched her leave. Her hair bounced and glossed under the school’s fluorescent lights, and her skirt sashayed behind her. He watched as she waved and greeted people before she disappeared from his view. He didn’t stand a chance with the pretty girl in his chemistry class.

Ned bounded towards him, talking his ear off about what his partner did and how he was so glad he had someone who wouldn’t make him do all the work. Peter, at that moment, felt like a bad friend. He wanted to listen to his best friend, keep a conversation going. But all of him kept him from doing so, instead directing his thoughts towards the popular, bubbly girl who was now surrounded by her loads of friends at her locker. Peter smiled her way, not expecting it to be returned, but to his surprise, she smiled back and raised her hand with a little wave. He took the time to peak into her locker. He could see pictures and magnets lining up the area; permeating the dull grey with life and personality. He also made out the neatly folded cheerleader uniform resting on the top shelf. Of course, he would have to start crushing on an unattainable cheerleader.

He had no choice but to settle for crushing on her and wanting her from a distance. He figured that simply being an acquaintance to her would be enough. It would be enough. Being in her life would be just fine. It was a sad thought, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t gone through before. The thought made his heart hurt, but that was also coupled with the thoughts he had already harboured—memories of his past, he and his uncle, of Tony. Those kept him up at night and clouded his thinking whenever he swung building to building.

That night was the same; he sat on top of his apartment building, taking in the changing scenery. The lack of stars once brought him comfort, but he found recently that they brought him more pain. Normally, he loved the vastness of the wide space and how little they knew about it. He would let his imagination run wild with possibilities of everything in the unknown. When he was younger, he liked to imagine there were aliens up there, living happily without care. He would divulge in that from time to time, feeding his inner child. He loved the tenacity, the freedom, and the serenity of it all. But the same things made him feel small. It put everything into perspective. It put into perspective how small he was. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was no escape.

He sat on the edge of the building, taking in all the different personalities the city below him had to offer. Couples cuddled up with one another, walking into their shared homes. Families laughing with one another as they finished their night. Friends walked with one another, whispering in ears and cackling to drown the cars and taxis’ noise. That was the city he loved. The city he grew up in. But that didn’t stop him from wanting an escape. Somewhere far from the city where he could simply sit and think without the distractions. He knew that was wishful thinking, but it didn’t cost a thing to dream.

Choosing to end the night earlier than usual, he stood up from his place and swung forward. Aunt May wouldn’t be home, so dinner wouldn’t be ready until she got there. He considered going to Delmar’s; having one of his sandwiches always made him feel better. Something stopped him, though. Maybe it was the sound of a laugh, one he had heard before, or the familiar satin blue scrunchie that rested on her wrist. He watched her, talking on the phone and laughing and throwing her hands up in the air. He quickly averted his eyes, staring at her for too long was weird even if he was Spider-Man.

That night he slept better than usual. Aunt May had found him asleep on his bed with his arm hanging off the mattress, his body slanted, and his head hanging off to the side with his mouth wide open. While it was an awkward position, she was glad he was sleeping so early in the night. The years had been rough on him, pushing past his limits and stressing him beyond belief. He was overdue for a break, and a long one. But she knew her nephew; he would never take a break. The city of Queens needed him.

While he normally dreaded going to school, not because he had to pay attention, or because it was hard, but because for seven hours, the city of Queens was left defenceless and at mercy. But, this day was different. There was a spring in his step and an easy smile on his face, not even Flash’s taunting got to him. Walking into the chemistry classroom, his eyes roamed the classroom until they landed on his new table. She was already sitting there. Scribbling on her glittery notebook with a blue pen adorned with a fuzzy top.

Settling down next to her, she sent him a smile, “good morning, Mister Peter,”

He laughed, “Good morning, Miss Y/N,”

Peter was left yearning for more interactions with the gorgeous cheerleader with the fun pens, especially after she gave him a sticker with a golden retriever on it; it was an adorable puppy with its paw out and licking, what he presumed, was glass. She had told him it was because he reminded her of a puppy, most notably a golden retriever puppy. Her words had made him flush and sputter over himself, nearly causing him to injure his hand on the bunsen burner set in front of them. She giggled and gave him another sticker; it was a simple smiley face that he put on his notebook next to the golden retriever.

She had bitten the bullet one day and invited him to a football game, one against Midtown’s rival school. Peter had been to football games before, having been in marching band, but that was before he was Spider-Man. A high school football game wouldn’t fit in his schedule, but the way she asked him and looked at him with an expectant and hopeful grin had him saying yes. So, he did what any sane person would do, and said yes. She squealed and wrapped her arms around him, taking him but surprise and let go of his neck. She gave him another sticker that day, one with a teddy bear holding a red heart in its centre.

That’s how he found himself sitting in the uncomfortable metal bleachers next to Ned and MJ, who insisted on coming but wasn’t paying attention, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to block out the cold. While Ned was focused on the football game happening before them, and MJ was engrossed in her book, Peter found himself staring at the seemingly glowing cheerleader chanting out cheers and praises. He watched as she threw her pompoms up and waved them around when Midtown presumably made a touchdown and huffed in exasperation when they didn’t.

The final buzzer went off, knocking Peter from his trance. Ned and MJ were getting up from their seats and making their way down the bleachers making Peter scramble to catch up. They waited for him, rather impatiently as Ned was tapping his foot and MJ was patting her book, and he rushed towards them. He stopped when a small body in a blue and gold outfit stood in front of him, a grin on her face and her pompoms resting on her duffle bag. He locked eyes with Ned who gave him a thumbs up and pushed an unimpressed MJ away from the fence.

“Parker! You came! Did you have fun?” she asked, her words rushed and fast as she could barely contain her excitement. Peter chuckled and nodded his head, wanting nothing more than to hug her. To help her calm down, of course. She took him by surprise, a common theme, by wrapping her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He was glad she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating, but it was in overdrive. He thought that his senses had dialled up to one hundred when he was bitten, but it was nothing compared to how they were at that moment. She had a control over him that he never thought anyone would have. But he was glad it was her and not anyone else.

“What d’ya say Parky? You wanna go on a stroll?” Peter looked down at her and nodded his head. He hadn’t heard a word of what she said, too distracted by her beauty and the way her arms felt around him. She was the warmth on a cold day; hot cocoa under a blanket of snow, and the sunset after a nice day on the beach. She was someone Peter wanted in his life when things got to be too difficult for him to manage, and when he was at his highest because he knew she would only send him to the moon.

He waved goodbye to Ned and MJ, Y/N did too, promising to listen to Ned’s new LEGO purchase the following Monday, and watched as MJ’s car pulled away from the curb. She took his hand into hers and dragged him towards her car. She unlocked it before motioning for him to get in, throwing her bag into the backseat and starting the engine. He couldn’t help but glance around the car. Stickers decorated the dash in front of him; he was sitting in pink seat cover with the letters ‘TPWK’ stitched on it in white, and her steering wheel was decorated with a big sunflower. It was so unapologetically her, and that made Peter smile.

In the time Y/N drove, Peter texted May and let her know he would be out late. He was met with a ‘good riddance! Stay safe :)’ in response. Peter watched the streetlights pass by as Y/N drove through the city and past city limits. For once in his life, since he was a child, he let himself be free and enjoy the scenery night brought. He was bummed that the city filled the night sky with smog because he really wanted to appreciate the beauty of the stars and the moon. He wanted to see her under the moonlight because he knew without a doubt that she looked even more gorgeous. He had been so distracted by his thoughts, that for once didn’t make him want to hide under a heap of blankets, that he hadn’t noticed she stopped the car. She hadn’t said anything; she just watched him. He was at peace, and that was all she wanted him to be.

Peter opened his eyes and looked ahead. He could see the city in the distance, the lights on in buildings, and with his super hearing, he could hear the city’s faint sounds. She cleared her throat and pointed up, her moon roof was open and exposed the glittering sky above them. He stared at it in awe. He knew they were far from the city, but he hadn’t realised how far, far was until he saw unfamiliar glistening above him. She watched him with soft eyes, smiling at his bafflement and wonder. It didn’t need to be said, but she knew he needed this moment.

In the months that followed the switching of seats in chemistry class, she noticed things about him. The bags under his eyes that covered his freckles, the tired and subtle yawns, and the rushing of homework that was due the next period. She didn’t know why he was always tired, but something in her told her it was important. The bigger part of her told her that she needed to do something for him, something to distract him and ease his mind. So, she brought him to her spot outside of the city, to do what she did best. She stared at the moon and let her mind run with what it would be like to live in space and reside on the moon.

“You see that pattern up there; I call it the Huntress,” she pointed towards Orion, “stories of the stars are always about men, and the stories about women are always depicted as helpless. It makes me feel better knowing that a woman is the hunter in the stars, even if it is just in my mind.” Peter nodded along. He wanted to hear more. So, she told him her versions on the stars. He let himself get lost in her words, inching closer towards her over the console. She paused her story and motioned up towards the moon roof. He climbed out first and helped her, the two of them settling on top of her car.

She continued her story on the twins, the two of them leaning on one another. Peter felt all his inhibitions and everything holding him back let go and get lost in the night sky. That night he didn’t think of all he lost, of everything he had endured; that night he thought of the sunshine sitting next to him and how he would be okay in the face of peril, so long as he had her by his side. His personal cheerleader. He thought of the way her lips felt on his and the giggle that erupted from her soft lips; about how they tasted like pomegranate.

In her, he found himself walking on the sun’s rays and being hugged by warmth. For once, he didn’t stare at the sun with anger; instead, he basked in her warmth because the warmth enveloped him.

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idyllicstarker · 4 years ago

Text

Starker • Student!Peter x Teacher!Tony AU //

[A.K.A the overused cliché]

Warnings: Sexual themes

Peter approached his chemistry teacher’s desk, a small scowl on his lips as Tony looked up from his papers, feigning innocence.

“Can I help you Peter?”, he asked, setting down his pen as he leaned forward. Peter didn’t need to peer over the desk to know he’d spread his legs apart, those muscular thighs straining against his slacks. Peter had barely kept his eyes away from the way the material was pulled taunt across them - the entire hour he’d spent in this classroom without being able to sink between his legs was hell.

The boys cheeks were flushed the most adorable shade of pink. And his eyes were glassy. Tony wasn’t sure if it was anger, embarrassment at his own thoughts, or just pre sexual frustration; whatever it was he was quite enjoying the moment.

“Why’d you call me up to do that equation Mr Stark?”, he questioned, voice shaking slightly as he licked at his lips.

The last few students had just shuffled out, and Peter took a glance back to make sure they were totally alone.

“Because I knew you hadn’t practised like I’d told the class too”, Tony replied. It seemed pretty obvious, but by the way Tony’s eyes glinted with an enticing playfulness, it was evident that there was more to the story.

Peter spluttered, dropping his chemistry book down on the desk in his huff, gesturing over to the blackboard where his horrific attempts at trying to solve a hard equation still sat. Tony’s hurried scrawl followed on beneath it, detailing the correct way to solve it.

“Now now, Mr Parker”, Tony soothed, sitting forwards in his chair. “If you’re going to spend all night building Lego’s with your friends, you have to at least half expect me to pick on you when I know you don’t know the answer.”

Peter shot him a glare worthy of murder.

“Don’t use my own lies to my Aunt against me. You know I wasn’t with Ned, because I was with you”, he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest as he puffed it out in frustration.

“Oh?”, Tony said, but Peter didn’t give him time to finish, holding up a finger.

“I was with you! In your bed! I told you I had to study but noooo, you wanted round five”, he huffed. “Maybe next time, don’t blame me for thinking with your dick. Or you won’t have anyone to fuck.”

“Oh sweetheart, let me have my fun”, Tony replied softly.

“Your fun shouldn’t be at the expense of my dignity. You know Flash is going to be teasing me for months about this”, he sighed out.

There was a sigh from across the desk, as Tony patted his lap gently.

“Go lock the door baby. You know we can’t have anyone finding us. Go lock it, and then I’ll make it up to you.. just the way you like it.”

#starker #starker fanfiction #tony stark #peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #skylar writes #skylars moodboards #I just wanted to give you some content #Lets not talk about it #I’m uncreative #I know

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scribbles97 · 3 years ago

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Figure It Out - Part 2

From HERE

Apparently part one left everybody screaming, so I had to write more, didn't I now?

Virgil wasn’t sure which was worse, the simple fact of the gaps in Gordon’s memories, or the lack of optimism the doctors had shown.

Penelope was heartbroken, and he couldn’t say he blamed her.

His brother and the Lady had spent too long dancing around their feelings before finally coming together in a relationship that was everything any of them could hope for. It was impossible to not see how they suited one another, how both simply worked with the other without barely a thought.

It seemed that Penelope had lost it all, that Gordon was back to square one with his feelings whilst their child was due in a matter of weeks.

It was the first rule of head trauma to not force memories. Nagging and prompting wouldn’t do Gordon any good in his recovery… if there was anything to recover.

All they could do was wait.

He didn’t blame Penny for being unable to stand by and watch. Perhaps given other circumstances she would be as solid and sure as ever. Pregnant, and exhausted though, Virgil knew her limits were being pushed.

That she had broken down the moment he had found her spoke volumes.

At first he had been sure that something worse had happened, that maybe the doctors had missed something and there wasn’t a brother waiting for him in the hospital room.

She had managed to get as far as amnesia before she had needed to leave, the hospital apparently too much for her to cope with in the moment.

It had been Parker that had filled him in. The old friend keeping a visibly distressed Gordon company whilst Penelope had taken herself away for a breather.

Caramel eyes full of child-like fear had looked up to him, begging for answers that Virgil wasn’t sure he had.

“You should rest, Gordy.” He murmured, taking Parkers seat once the man had left to hunt down his charge.

“The others said the same.”

It was so much quieter than Gordon was meant to be, so much more distant.

That Gordon’s wife had been reduced to ‘others’, twisted something in Virgil’s heart.

“I can’t though, V.” He whispered, “I tried, but it’s screaming at me. My head is literally screaming that I’m missing all of this and I need to know.”

The words made about as much sense as Gordon usually did when exhausted. Too many thoughts coming at once and a filter too broken to manage them one at a time.

Virgil was well practised in managing exhausted little brothers.

“Your head is still healing,” He murmured, reaching out to take his brother’s hand, “You took a hell of a fall.”

“Penelope said it was an explosion.”

Her name sounded so wrong on his lips, so foreign.

“Threw you about fifty yards.” Virgil agreed softly, thumb stroking soothingly over the back of Gordon’s wrist, “We were worried about your back and your head.”

“Back’s fine.”

Not that either of them found that quite as reassuring as it should have been.

“I need to talk to her.”

Virgil blinked at the statement.

“Where’s your phone? I need to--”

“Woah.” He stopped him before he could push himself upright, “I think she needs some space right now.”

His brother’s hand gripped his arm, as strong and confident as ever. There was undoubtedly something that was clear in his brother's head, and Virgil knew he’d be hard put to dissuade him.

“I still love her, Virg.” He swallowed, eyes bright and pleading, “She needs to know that. I know you know, you always knew how much I liked her. So I need to tell her that that’s not changed. I always will love her and it doesn’t matter about anything else.”

The passion was all Gordon. It was everything his brother had ever been and he doubted that anything could ever change it.

“She loves me different though I guess.”

The way he sunk under Virgil’s hold was unexpected, as if he was deflating with the sudden realisation.

“Doesn’t she?” Wide eyes looked to Virgil for answers, “She’s gone through years of loving me now and knows all this stuff that I’ve forgotten. How can it be the same? How can we still love each other when I forgot what loving her is? How can I forget how I love her?”

“Hey,” A strong hand on the swimmer’s shoulder was enough to draw his attention back to Gordon, “It’s okay.”

“How?” Gordon sniffed, tears flooding his eyes from nowhere, “Virgil, I’ve blown it. I ruined it for the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met!”

“No.” He sighed, squeezing his shoulder to hold his attention, “You’ve not ruined anything Gordy, you both just need a minute. That you’ve still got all these feelings for her is a good thing, isn’t it? It’s not like you’ve forgotten her completely.”

A mute nod was all the answer he got as his brother sniffled.

“You’ve just got to hold on to that.” He encouraged, “Pen still loves you too, you’re both just in different places for a second and need to figure things out. In the meantime, you’ve just gotta hold on to those feelings.”

His brother’s head was sinking into the pillow, the muscles under his hand growing slack as his eyes became hooded.

“I love her, V.”

“We know.” He murmured, “Hold on to that thought.”

“Love her so much.”

“She loves you too.”

Brushing his fingers through his brother’s hair, Virgil smiled softly as his eyes rested closed, the sniffles lessening into soft breaths.

“She loves you so much Gordy.” He sighed, “You’ll remember.”

He had to.

#Thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scribbles writes #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #lady penelope

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