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gluion · 1 year ago

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familiarity (it’s all sticky) ➵ kim sunwoo

peter parker!kim sunwoo x spiderman!reader

you're not sure why you decide to show up at your ex's place all wounded up from tonight's battle.

genre/warnings ➵ exes (to sort of lovers?), angst, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), discussions of wounds and depictions of blood, lowercase intended, ghost-spider au (though please don't expect it to be accurate!), reader is obviously spiderman while sunwoo is peter parker i mean HELLO?? i am right, sunwoo is such a slob here, reader's hair is long enough to be tucked behind their ear, i also based everything on google when it comes to patching up wounds omg please don't follow me at all, kissing fingertips, mentions of non-sexual stripping and showering (let him take care of you)

word count ➵ 4k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu

playlist ➵ nonviolent communication by metro boomin, james blake, a$ap rocky, & 21 savage // hummingbird by metro boomin & james blake

a/n ➵ i've had this idea for the longest time in my drafts. i'm pretty sure it came to me as i was writing of linked arms and bruised hearts, but i'm glad i took some time to sit down (even in my busy and hell midterms season) to write it :') thank you to my lovely cat @wuahae for beta reading <3 this work is only a fraction of what our friendship truly is, and proof of the care we have for each other. i love you! i also thought it would be in theme to get songs from across the spiderverse ost for the playlist </3 please don't forget to reblog (even if it's in your tbr!)

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

new york city never falls silent. the bustle of every new yorker can be heard through their footsteps, the wheels that glide against the train tracks along with the beeps of taxis sound throughout the city. the metropolis stays alive in every street, every alleyway, every corner. no matter what hour it may be, each pavement is wide awake.

but the lights seem hazy tonight; the luminescence pours out of every building, the led boards are only blurs of silhouettes and illegible words. normally, you would warn against going out if someone could barely make sense of what these signs say, but you never seem to follow your own advice.

as you swing through the city, web clinging onto every building, blood continues to seep through the white spandex that covers you from head to toe. your body feels heavy, the pain in your lower abdomen continuing to spike with every movement—every swing—you make.

you bite on your lip, holding back the whimpers. your eyes dart through every street sign you pass. with every swing, you realize you’re nowhere close to where you should be. instead…

you don’t allow yourself to think it over. maybe the loss of blood has you moving out of impulse, but for now, you can only think of getting rid of the pain.

you swing around the corner before landing down at the familiar fire escape, paint-chipped and rusted just like you remember. a hiss leaves your mouth as your hand reaches out to the spot where the blood continues to seep through, holding it down to keep pressure on the wound.

you’re face-to-face with the window; the reflection of you all suited up in some persona is a sight you’re accustomed to—but not on the glass of his window. you’re not sure why you came back here, injured in an identity he only knew of through word of mouth.

but the throbbing in your abdomen doesn’t give you enough time to think more about it. pushing the window up, you throw one leg over the edge into the apartment. your eyes quickly scan through the familiar space—a room you once treated as yours.

pillows scattered and bedsheets wrinkled, the walls are littered with the same posters of anime he swears to be the best of all time (though you’d always disagreed), along with his desk, littered with trinkets you haven’t seen since the day you left him—ones that he talked about to you back then with so much joy.

as you attempt to get your other leg over the edge of the window, you yelp at the sharp pain that strikes. “fuck,” you whimper, gasping out a breath. another groan rips out from your throat as you force your leg over, head resting on the frame with closed eyes, bracing yourself through the wave of pain that follows.

as pants continue to leave your mouth, your senses tingle as your ears catch the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room. you attempt to stand up only for another groan to leave your lips, and you realize it’s too late—the door creaks open, revealing the man you haven’t been face-to-face with since you said your farewell months ago.

dressed in an oversized white tee and a pair of black shorts, sunwoo stands with a bag of chips in his hand and disheveled hair, eyes wide and gaping. you can only assume he was fresh from bed.

“s-spiderman?!” he looks around, noticing the mess that you’re being exposed to. before you can register it, he rushes in, dropping the bag of chips somewhere near the doorway, and tries to tidy his bed. “w-what are you doing here? i think you might’ve entered the wrong room,” he stutters as he attempts to fix his pillows and bedsheets (poorly, if you may say).

somehow, the sight of sunwoo all frazzled makes you smile behind your mask. the idea of your—no, you mean, this guy all worried about you seeing how untidy he lives makes you chuckle.

but as you laugh, pain shoots through your lower abdomen once more. you cough out before hissing, pressing onto the wound. it takes everything in you to keep your body upright until you feel a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. you look up only to be met with his worried expression.

and you spot the way his eyes trail down to where your hand rests. you’re thankful that the mask could hide the heat that rises to your cheeks.

“oh god, you need that treated,” sunwoo’s eyes snap back up to you, and your breath hitches. even after all these months, he still holds stars in his eyes.

it’s been a while since you last saw him up close. the bags on his under eyes have turned a few shades darker, and you notice an eyelash that rests on his cheek. you don’t think about what you do next, your free hand reaching out to his face, and his breath hitches. once you pick it out, you flick the strand off of your fingers, and that’s when you realize the mistake you committed.

“s-sorry,” you choke out. although you try to keep your voice as low and gruntled as possible, he frowns. he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker between your masked face and the wound.

“i-i don’t know how to help. i can call for an ambulan—”

you grab onto his arm before he can leave. as you shake your head, he gulps. “i can’t really help you,” he says, but your grip doesn’t falter. with that, he lets out a sigh before kneeling in front of you. his hands find themselves on the ledge, his arms now caging your frail figure. “do you have someone in mind who can help you?”

sunwoo’s question is innocent. you’re sure the last thing he meant was to mock your situation—showing up in a “stranger’s” room unannounced—but it strikes a chord in you.

you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up a few months back. when you’re outside of your suit, you avoid him like the plague. in the hallways of campus, you take any possible route to not cross his. but when you’re covered in your second skin, you find yourself on top of buildings watching him from far away. with the distance, you allow yourself to learn about what he’s been up to since you two last spoke.

so you don’t know why you sit in front of him all injured and dressed up in white, black, and pink spandex, because you haven’t spoken to him since that day. shame bubbles within you all while reality slowly slips from your fingertips. and the way your body gets heavier with every second that passes has him mumbling profanities.

his hands hold onto you as he makes you lean your weight on the frame of the window. “wait,” he says as he stands up and walks into his bathroom. before you know it, he comes out with a box.

sunwoo finds his spot back in front of you and he opens what he retrieved. as he looks through the supplies of bandages, alcohol, gauze, and more, he says as his eyes flicker up towards you, “i don’t know how much this will help but it’ll do for now.”

and you should be thankful that someone is willing to bandage you up after the rough night you’ve had, but it feels like a lie to have sunwoo be the one to do it, especially when you haven’t told him the truth.

so when he grabs onto the supplies he needs to treat your wound, your free hand reaches for the underside of your mask. his eyes follow where it rests, and he freezes in his tracks. your fingertips curl on the fabric as you take a deep breath.

“you don’t—”

you shake your head, cutting him off, and you close your eyes before pulling off the mask.

you’re afraid to look at the boy kneeling in front of you, for you can only imagine the annoyance—the disgust—that will paint his features. it’s not like you had a choice to show up at his fire escape this one night, but it was your choice to reveal who spiderman really is behind the mask.

a beat passes.

you’re not sure what to do at this moment. what are you supposed to do after a vigilante reveals who they are?

but when you open your eyes, sunwoo looks back at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. he averts his eyes, trailing down to your wound. “let me see it,” he whispers.

you gulp, an attempt to clear your throat and thoughts, before letting your hand move away from the puncture. your hand grips the hem of the top of your suit, peeling it upwards to reveal a bloody wound. from the sight, it looks like you were stabbed, but it’s only a deep cut.

he pulls out a piece of cloth, reaching out and pressing it to your wound. you yelp, eyes squeezing shut at the contact. “i’m sorry, but we need to stop the bleeding a bit more.” it takes everything in you to open your eyes. you’re met with the sight of sunwoo whose face holds a thousand emotions—you can’t identify any of them.

“can you keep pressure on it?” you only nod before you remove your gloves, afraid to touch the wound with fabric covered in grime. you dump your mask and gloves on the space beside you before letting your hand reach to where the cloth is held against. your hand brushes against his for a split second—you retract your hand immediately at the contact with his skin.

at the sudden motion, the cloth against your stomach drops with nothing left to hold it. sunwoo curses in a panic, hand shooting out in an attempt to save it, but you react faster. snatching it mid-fall, you grasp it tightly, placing the cloth back onto your wound. his eyes dart between where your hand rests and your face, a twinge of worry cast on his features, but he doesn’t give you an opportunity to say anything as he stands up quickly and walks back to his bathroom.

you hear the water run for a moment. the noises of the street fill your ears. the lights from outside cascade the floor, hues of yellow and purple filling the room. and then thunder rumbles; it shakes the floorboards. the sounds of raindrops follow, and you feel your back start to get wet from the storm that has entered new york city.

you try to push yourself off the ledge, a groan ripping out of your throat once more. and you’re finally on your feet. but at any moment, it feels like you may collapse.

“wait, wait! what are you doing?” sunwoo exclaims as he rushes out of the bathroom. he quickly grabs hold of you in an attempt to keep you steady. “don’t stand up or that wound might get worse.”

“i-it’s just the rain. i don’t want to leave the window open.” as you turn your torso, another spike strikes where your wound is. the yelp that leaves your mouth has sunwoo grip onto your arm tighter.

“no, just sit. i’ll take care of it,” he says as he brings you to his chair, his hand never leaves your arm. you let out a hiss until your bottom meets the cushion. as soon as your back rests on the chair, you close your eyes for a moment from the pain.

his hand leaves you. you hear the window shut; the car horns and barks from stray animals are now muffled.

when your eyes flutter open, sunwoo crouches in front of you with a wet towel in his hand. “i need to clean it.” you only nod before removing the cloth on your wound. he grabs it from you and places it on his lap.

as he raises the wet towel to your wound, you flinch at the contact. he quickly retracts it and asks, “does it hurt?”

“no, it’s just cold,” you mumble back. he only nods before attempting to clean the area around your wound. while he keeps his eyes on the puncture, your eyes remain on his face; hues of yellow cast upon him.

his skin glows under the city lights—did anyone know about the stars you once carved on it?

“is this why we broke up?” his eyes snap toward yours as he asks that question.

you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “y-yeah,” you choke out.

he hums before his eyes go back down to your injury. “i’m guessing this is why you were distant then, right?”

you don’t bother to speak, letting the silence speak for itself.

he removes the wet towel; the white cloth is covered in patches of red. as he crumples it into a ball, you spot that his white shirt holds splotches of blood as well.

sunwoo stands up to drop the pieces of fabric on the table behind you. “your dad obviously doesn’t know,” he mutters to himself.

it’s a rhetorical question. of course, your father has no clue of your late-night rendezvous. you’re sure he could never look at you the same if he found out because to him, he would never understand what you do. he would see you only as a low-life criminal in the same way the nypd does.

sunwoo then dabs a cotton ball soaked in betadine on your abdomen. you bite on your lip as a hiss leaves your mouth. “fuck,” you curse, and he only continues to clean up your wound.

silence takes over you two. as he bandages you up, you allow yourself to close your eyes. you were thankful to find rest in these small moments. but you don’t miss the warmth of his fingertips on your skin; they feel just like last time.

“why did you come here?” his question has your eyes snapping open, and you are met with a frown resting on his face.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i-i don’t know.” it’s a lie—one you both know. you had every chance to change the route you were taking. instead, you chose to go to his place—even if it may be on the other side of where you live.

he lets out a sigh. it’s clear that he’s disappointed by your words, but all he says is “okay,” as he gets up. “you can stay here for the night.” he stands in front of you in a shirt covered in patches of blood—it’s proof that his heart still holds a spot for you.

despite the venom that was laced in your words the night you cut ties with him, he leaves you a space for you to fill. it’s another choice you can make, but one you’re not sure if you should take.

sunwoo walks to the desk behind you and flips the lamp on. you swivel the chair so that you’re face-to-face with his slouched figure. you would’ve scolded him, but you’re not in the place to do so—not after what you two had.

but a part of you wishes to chide those words—hey, keep slouching and your back will get worse—for old time’s sake. it takes everything in you to hold back from saying the reminder, but it takes nothing to let your hand grip the back of his shirt. his movements halt.

as you sit up, you let your face bury into the arch of his back. the scent of his laundry detergent (it’s still the same smell of lavender) fills your nose, and you let your hands trail around his torso until they find their home on his waist. even after all these months, your hands knew where to rest—your spidey senses knew who to go to.

you feel his hands rest on your arms, his thumb drawing circles on your forearm. you breathe at the same pace as him. whenever his shoulders move up, yours follow. and you allow yourself to cherish just this once the familiar warmth of sunwoo. you let your soul mesh with his once more.

with closed eyes, you whisper, “i still look for you.” his thumb stops moving, and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. “i’m here because all i know is you.”

it’s half of a lie, but still a lie nevertheless. you shake your head against his shirt. “no,” you rescind. “i know i shouldn’t be here, and i had every chance to go back home, but,” you take a deep breath. “would you let me, just this once, be honest with you?”

your question hangs in the air—it’s not for him but for you. all the choices you took led to this moment, from embracing the persona you were handed through a single spider bite all the way to removing the mask in front of him.

sunwoo spins to face you. he stands in front of you with the remnants of you covering him, his shirt coated in hues of red and your blood dried up on his hands. the light behind him causes a shadow to paint his face.

but when he kneels once more in front of you, you get a good look at his features. he still looks like the same boy you first met—the same one you fell in love with—but you wonder if he was still the one you knew?

that is until his hand reaches toward your face. you hold your breath as it finds its spot on your cheek. but as his thumb grazes your cheekbone, a trembling breath leaves you. you gulp everything down—your fears and anxieties—so that you can finally be honest with sunwoo.

“i wanted to tell you who i really am.” a flicker of confusion flashes through his eyes. “and i know i’m not doing it in the best state,” a chuckle leaves your mouth. “but with every day that passes, and every injury i need to endure, i didn’t know when i would be able to tell you what went wrong with us.” a beat passes. “what went wrong with me.”

he shakes his head. “nothing’s wrong with you. what are you talking about?” a frown takes over his face. “i mean, you’re spiderman, for god’s sake.” you weren’t able to hold back the giggle that slipped from your lips.

but it wouldn’t be fair to just accept his words as is, not after the damage you’ve caused.

you let a hand rest on his, the one that rests on your cheek, and you curl your fingers so that you hold it. “i’m sorry that this is me.” the whisper is loud enough to fill the silence of his room. “i’m sorry that i crashed here all injured and left you to deal with the mess,” your eyes flicker to his bed. “especially on a night when you were resting.”

as soon as your eyes go back to sunwoo, you notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “why are you telling me this?” it’s an honest question, one he couldn’t figure out the answer to. “we haven’t seen each other since you broke up with me.”

and he has every right to be confused with your sudden appearance. after all the months spent avoiding him in the halls while still seeking him on top of buildings, sunwoo was left with no clue as to why you come to him first in such a dire situation. why is it that you chose to reveal such an intimate part of yourself months after you two have drifted?

“do i have to say it?” you ask.

and he looks back into your eyes before saying, “it’s the least you can do.”

so you grab onto his hand, moving it so that it rests in yours. the sight of his fingers and palms covered in splotches of you fills your heart with warmth. it’s proof of the time he spent to patch you up. no matter who you may be—spiderman or not—you will forever be at his mercy.

“we can’t be together. it will only be another cycle of pain.” for both of you. as your eyes land back on his face, you spot sorrow coating his features.

“but i still do.” it’s an unfinished thought on his end. despite the frown you show, all he does is flash you a bitter smile. “i always have and always will.”

and it clicks.

“n-no, sunwoo,” you shake your head. “you can’t.”

he brings your hand close to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “but you do,” he whispers into your fingertips. “right?”

even after revealing who spiderman truly is behind the mask, you expect sunwoo to rethink everything he knows. the months spent away from you should be enough reason to reconsider how much he knows of you now. but even if you two were to spend years apart, he would still read you as well as he does now.

“i can’t,” you choke out. “i can only offer so much, and you deserve so much more.”

he smiles at you—the same one you used to see every day, no matter what time of the day it may be—as his free hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“i couldn’t care any less.”

you shake your head. it’s clear he doesn’t understand the gravity of it all; to be with you means to remain in constant danger. “no, sunwoo. you don’t understand. i broke up with you because i’m batshit scared of what will happen to you.”

because it seems to always occur—anyone you come close to becomes another target for your enemies. it’s already hard enough to handle the responsibility of being a masked hero, but you don’t think you could handle a possibility where sunwoo’s death would be on your hands.

but all he does is shake his head and says, “i don’t care. i still love you.”

you haven’t heard him say that to you in months. such a simple phrase causes warmth to fill your limbs and heat to rise to your cheeks. he still has the same effect on you after so long.

there are consequences that this conversation bears. you should have stood up and left as soon as he patched you up. it should’ve been obvious that the longer you stayed, the more you would pour out sentiments that you tried to keep under wraps—under the mask—and it seemed that sunwoo knew how to undo them even better than he did then.

and hearing sunwoo say those words has you falling into a perpetual cycle of torment, one that makes every day intolerable for you can only watch him from afar. but aren’t you already living it the more you deny what’s in front of you two?

so you only nod, and bring his hand close so you can feel his fingertips on your lips. with closed eyes, you whisper, “okay.”

it’s a testament to everything—one to his offer to let you sleep in this very room you once treated as yours, one to his confession that tilted your world’s axis, one to the very situation you’re in—and you’re sure he knows it, too.

he smiles as soon as your eyes flutter open. “let’s go to sleep.”

you know that sleep meant to be wrapped in his arms all while he would leave kisses on your temple. you don’t remember the last time you got enough rest, but you remember that the last time you slept in sunwoo’s arms was the last one you were able to fall into slumber at ease.

so you nod, allowing him to help you out of the chair. and he helps you through it all—shedding the suit off of you, cleaning you of all the grime from tonight’s adventure, and getting dressed in fresh clothes—until you two find your place on his bed.

nothing is said for the rest of the night. for once, you drift into slumber without any secrets stashed away.

if you enjoyed reading this, please do reblog!

#deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #kim sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo imagines #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo fluff #zzoguri works

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chickenparm · 1 year ago

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Tiny Little Teeth (cat!Scara/f!Reader) Pt 1

it's a rite of passage for anyone that writes for scara to at least do ONE scarameow fic. anyway, 3 chapters for sure on this one, maybe a 4th if i feel like party rockin.

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AO3 LINK Next Part

cat(boy)!Scaramouche/f!Reader - Reader is Traveler 2,628 Words - SFW (future NSFW) (no warnings this chapter - smut tags on AO3)

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“Traveler, pleeeeease?”

Paimon struggles to float under the weight of the kitten, her arms wrapped around his torso as he wiggles and wiggles and wiggles and hisses. You watch for a moment how his little teeth are bared, the pupils of his eyes wide enough that only the thinnest purple iris is visible as he glares at you. Can a cat glare?

This one is. You think you like him.

“Alright, fine. But he’ll have to stay in the teapot, he’s just too little to travel around with us now.”

At the sound of your agreement, he starts writhing even more, and you reach out to take the kitten from Paimon to keep her from sinking like a rock. Holding him by the scruff, you lift the cat to look him over - ink-colored fur, pretty violet eyes with strange markings around them, the whitest feet and ears you’ve ever seen…

“You’re a cute thing, aren’t you? What should we name you…” You use your other hand to support under his back legs, holding him closer to your chest as you release his scruff and instead run those fingers down the raised hair along his spine. “Angry little thing. Kinda reminds me of…”

“That’s what I thought! So grumpy!”

Paimon already agrees before you get the name out, and the two of you giggle amongst yourselves. Ducking your chin to look at him, he stares up at you with a vicious little hiss, just before you say, “Oh, if he finds out he’ll be so mad. Let’s do it. You’re my little Scarameow now.”

Razor-sharp tiny claws sink into your skin at his visceral reaction to the name, teeth bared as his face scrunches up in rage. But it’s not frightening - only cute enough to make you coo and bend to press a kiss right on that angry little forehead. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Paimon, can you watch the teapot for a while? Maybe take it to Nilou for safekeeping?”

“Can do! Oh, can you use the kamera and take a picture if he does anything cute? Paimon wants to see!”

The kitten grumbles, and taking a little pity on him, you falsely make the promise to her and withdraw the teapot from your inventory to head home for a little while. Paimon’s voice trails off with her goodbye as your navel is pulled, and the world shifts from one reality to another, leaving you in a field of wildflowers that wave gently in the breeze.

The kitten goes slack in your arms, the whipping of his little tail petering out as his furry head turns left and right, taking in the sights of the field, the smattering of buildings not so far in the distance, and the backdrop of other landforms beyond it. Even if he probably can’t understand you, you still can’t help pride from filtering in your voice as you begin your walk to the main house and explain.

“This is my home. Well, our home, now. You’ll be comfortable, safe, and warm. Nothing bad will ever happen to you here. You must’ve been awfully scared, being all alone like that.” You say, unaware of how the kitten’s head tilts up to look at you. “What sort of food do cute little kitties eat, anyway? Fish?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but he does prickle a bit when you refer to him as cute and little, like he isn’t aware of how small he is. Or how soft his tummy is on your forearm. Somehow, you feel like he’d be mortified if he knew just how much you wanted to put your face in his fur and blow raspberries.

You’d probably lose an eye, you think.

Stepping into the home and shutting it behind you, you don’t bother to lock it as you call out, “Tubby! You home?”

“I am always home, Traveler.” The bird sparkles into existence, the kitten’s fur stands on end as those little claws sink in again. Dipping your head, you shush him and scratch behind one of his tiny little triangle ears, but it doesn’t do much. It almost makes him madder. Narrow red lines well up on your arm from where he’s been scratching and biting you. Tubby waits patiently for the exchange to finish before asking, “Is this a new resident?”

“Yes! This is Scarameow, he’s going to stay here for a while. Do you think you can sift through the storage and see if there’s any furniture that will be good for him?”

“Miss Diona did pass along some of the furniture blueprints they use at the Cat’s Tail when they need to replace something too clawed-up…”

“Perfect!” You agree, holding the kitten awkwardly as you start to kick off your boots. Tubby doesn’t like it when you track dirt into the house, and you’re not feeling up to suffering passive-aggressive comments about your cleanliness today. Tubby flickers off, and you’re once more left with a kitty that’s wiggling desperately to be let free.

Not just yet, though. You wander into what serves as the living area, a few couches near a fireplace that’s already lit. You grab a throw blanket and bundle it up on the couch, then carefully set him there. “That’ll have to do for now. I’m going to go and see what I can find you for food. I bet you’re hungry.”

Purple eyes look up at you, unimpressed. Your face twists in minor annoyance, “C’mon, I’m doing the best I can. If I expected to get a kitten today, I’d have prepared a little better. Maybe you should work on your timing.”

The kitten meows, a loud thing that can’t hold the weight of his own annoyance at you. Planting your hands on your hips, you bend a little and say, “‘Meow’ to you, too. Y’know, if you want to be menacing, you’ll have to work on not being so cute. If you keep being grumpy, I’m going to get your belly and it’s going to be very embarrassing.”

Another meow, teeth bared like needles, fur starting to raise on his tail. In fact, he stands, his back arching and the rest of him puffing up as if to look bigger, scarier. And you only laugh, reaching out with a palm and pushing him over into the blankets. “Cute little thing. Scarameow is a good name, you really do remind me of the Balladeer… uh, Wanderer, I mean. Don’t tell him I messed the name up, I’m still getting used to it.”

The cat pauses in getting up, head tilting as if curious. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to vent to him a little, he is just a kitten. It’s not like he can tell anyone unless he suddenly learns to talk like Neko. Standing straight, you let your arms fall to the side with a sigh, “It’s weird, he and I are the only people that actually remember what happened before. He’s kind of a jerk, but… I’d hoped that maybe, if anything, he’d be willing to let me… oh, I don’t know. Be his friend?”

Settling on the couch, you abandon the idea of food for now. The kitten doesn’t seem interested anyway. But he does settle down to sit on the blankets and seems to be listening intently to what you’re dumping out on him, even if he doesn’t understand. Leaning back against the couch, then letting your head roll to look at the ceiling, you continue, “I want to talk to him, but honestly, I’m not sure how to do it without him assuming I’m just taking pity on him for it all. I’m not, really, but he just seems kinda… lonely?”

No answer from the kitten. Maybe he’s fallen asleep already, maybe he’s not listening at all.

“Despite everything, I kind of get it. Y’know, after everything he’s been through, I’d probably be the same way. So I can’t really fault him for a lot of it. Well, maybe I can, just a little. But people can change, and it seems like he’s putting in some effort.” Your hand reaches out to the blankets, searching for the kitten to try and pet him absently, but your hand comes up empty.

Lifting your head, the blankets are empty, but in the space between your lap and the makeshift bed, the kitten is frozen mid-step, like he’d been sneaking closer. It looks up at you, and you look back, and carefully you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling. Maybe if you don’t give him so much attention, he’ll be a little more accepting of it all.

And the idea strikes you enough that you speak it into the world, “Maybe that’s the key. I’ll give him some space, just make it known that I’m willing to accept him and then back off. If I come on too strong, he’ll just get annoyed.”

There’s a pressure on your thigh of a small paw pushing in, then the opposite, and as you covertly look down, you can see he’s making biscuits on your lap. Not quite sitting on you, just off to the side, but it’s a start and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. Biting your tongue, you don’t draw attention to it and instead bring one hand to curl around his back where he sits next to you, a warm presence against your palm.

“Do you think that’ll work? Ah, you’ve never met him, how would you know. I bet you’d get along, though. Two angry little guys.”

Claws poke against your leg in a warning, and you laugh a little as you finally lift your head and look down at him. “Alright, alright. Hm… y’know, I have an idea. If I promise not to get your tummy, will you put up with me doing something else less demeaning?”

A head tilt, a cautious ask of what you’re planning before he accepts anything. You guide him away from the copious amount of biscuits he’s been making and settle him in the blankets again before getting up. “I’ll be back, just going to go to the workbench for a bit and make something. If you hate it, you don’t have to ever look at it again, but I think it’d be… cute.”

Scarameow growls, looks at you unsure, but you’re already walking away and leaving him alone in your home. Before leaving the room, you look at him over your shoulder. He’s sitting where you left him, looking suddenly very small, and a little coo leaves you that makes him bristle and stand, back arched once more.

Your laughter is what remains in the room with him as you leave.

The kitten waits while standing, then sits down to wait more. Then he lays, curled in a tight ball, eyes watching the doorway that you left through. The fireplace crackles nearby, lulling him into a calmness that makes him relax a little. Eyes drooping, he watches with disinterest as that weird little bird appears in the room, floating around and materializing what looks to be furniture suited for a cat.

A little tower with multiple levels, a wooden bowl-shaped bed filled with soft pillows, a box with a paw print on it filled with unknown contents. Then, the bird moves to the window and opens the curtains, letting the sunshine in. Suddenly, the kitten perks up a little, getting to his feet and streeeetching before all but tumbling from the couch. Annoyed at himself, he wanders over to the window.

There’s just enough of a ledge that he can sit up there, so he backs up and lowers himself, rear end wiggling a little before launching up. Still unpracticed, his claws catch on the edge as he undershoots the distance and has to scrabble on the rest of the way. Looking over the edge, he sees a few marks left in the wood, and his chest puffs up a bit. Good, serves you right.

Outside the window is that same view he was greeted with on arrival. Wildflowers fill the field, waving in unison as each breeze wafts over. His eyes follow the patterns as he lowers himself and tucks his limbs in, then his tail around himself. You said he’d be comfortable, happy, safe. He’s heard it often enough, but when was the last time he felt it?

Mildly disgruntled, he realizes he’s feeling it now.

He’s not sure how long he looks out the window, feeling the sun warm his fur as it moves across the sky. But his ears twitch, your footsteps returning, and he doesn’t have time to get up before you enter the room and coo, “Oh, you’re loafed up. How adorable!”

You clasp your hands around something, then tuck your hands beneath your chin at the sight of him looking so comfortable in the window. You don’t miss the scratches left from his journey up there, but you don’t really mind. It’s not like he did it on purpose, and it’s an easy fix.

Wary eyes watch as you approach and kneel at the window to be on an even level with him. With a little smile, you reassure him once more, “I made you something. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it, but you really do remind me of him, so…”

You set the little object down in front of him. A bright red cord of expert make, looped into a necklace and tied with a red bow around a little white puff ball. And on the end a golden ornament lacking the depth of detail of the original, but still a good enough mimicry that you feel proud of it. The kitten stares and stares, almost as if his eyes are unseeing. Patiently, you wait, considering he hasn’t batted it away like you initially expected.

And then, one of those soft white paws untuck from beneath his body to reach out and paw at it, tugging it closer. A quiet acceptance that’s solidified by how he doesn’t fight you when you carefully settle it over his head and around his neck, ensuring it isn’t too loose or too tight. “There, you could get it back off if you wanted, but…”

And then, with a little laugh, you fold your arms on the window ledge and prop your chin on them to look at him with a pleased smile, one that’s absolutely fond. “Anyway, don’t let him see you wearing that. He’d probably blow a blood vessel seeing you wearing it and having that name. Ugh, he’d probably think I want to keep him as a pet.”

The kitten looks at you unamused, one paw still resting out, claws starting to flex in a quiet warning. All you can do is grin, scrunching your nose at him, “And then I’d have to explain that I did it because I’m already fond of him. Is that weird? I’ve known of him for a long time, and we’ve been enemies for almost the entirety of it. One soul-searching journey and now I’m fond? I must be crazy.”

The kitten nods. A delighted laugh leaves you and you reach with one hand toward him, your cheek resting on your other arm. To your surprise, he doesn’t bat you away as your fingers start to scratch beneath his ear, but he doesn’t seem entirely pleased, either.

“I think it’s been a long, long time since anyone was fond of Wanderer. After all he’s been through, don’t you think he deserves a little softness, now?”

The kitten doesn’t say anything, but if you hold your breath and stay very still, you swear you can hear a quiet little rumbling coming from him as his eyes start to droop closed.

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #genshin #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #reader-insert #x reader #f!reader #female reader #afab!reader #scarameow #mdni #nsft

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actually-autisticc · 2 years ago

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My thoughts on the Super Mario Movie

My autistic ass needs someone to talk to about this film and I have nobody. I know I don’t post as often anymore on here but I need to let this energy out. Here’s what did work and didn’t work

What did work:

the animation: DAMN. It looked amazing. I loved how smooth they looked on screen and the details of the character models, the background, etc. You can tell they put a lot of love into it. It felt so nice to see our favorite video game characters on screen like this. All of the references were such a joy to find and recognize. It’s also crazy that Mario came from being an 8bit model to this glorious, detailed, 3D model. And some scenes “camera” moved in a way that would be in a game. When Mario and Luigi were on their way to their first plumbing job, the “camera” moved sideways as the first Mario games were side-scrolling. When Toad and Mario were heading to the castle and poor Mario was being thrown around, the “camera” moved around like I guess the newer games? I mean it looked like Super Mario Odyssey but there could be other games, I haven’t played every single one (now I want to). Really cool attention to detail. My autistic ass loves attention to detail. The models looked good as well like Bowser’s scales and the brothers’ clothing. Funny how 3D animation wasn’t as detailed before like with Veggietales and Toy Story 1 but now we have HAIR. You get it.

The music: Some parts hit, some didn’t. I loved the orchestral remixes of our beloved songs. When the kart scene came on, I immediately recognized the music and felt PUMPED, especially when they were making the karts and I heard the Mario Kart 8 theme. I wanted to jump out of my seat but couldn’t cause I didn’t wanna be weird. Hearing the theme songs as well felt satisfying. It scratched that itch I didn’t know I needed to be scratched. I found myself listening to the soundtrack right after. I’m glad they chose 80’s songs rather than fucking Doja Cat or whatever but it still threw me off hearing Take On Me, Holding Out for a Hero, and Mr. Blue Sky. (Cmon Shrek did Holding Out better. No topping it) As much as I love those songs, I remembered that this is an Illumination movie so of course they’d have popular songs. If they left the pop songs in the human world and kept the Mario songs in the Mushroom kingdom, etc, it would’ve made a little more sense. No Sleep til Brooklyn was good tho, made sense cause they live in Brooklyn and they were in the human world.

Chris Pratt: Yes, I know everyone was skeptical of Chris Pratt playing Mario. I love Chris in Guardians of the Galaxy as Peter Quill so I didn’t have much doubt but since he is a celebrity and you know how movies these days (mainly Illumination) love to get big names in their films. I wasn’t disappointed. He was good, not bad. As much as I love Martinet’s iconic Mario, I don’t think I’d be able to handle hearing it the whole time. It’s iconic but let’s be real hearing “let’s-a-go!” the whole time is a bit jarring. Mario’s from Brooklyn so that’s what Chris tried. And his Wahoo! was good! You knew he didn’t want to ruin this character because of how much it holds. He TRIED. And Martinet as Giuseppe saying “it’s a perfect!” Felt like he was sharing the torch with Chris. He squished all the critics doubts by saying “he’s Mario too, it’s fine. Deal with it.” Hearing the voice made me smile so wide, it was like hearing an old friend. I think he even said that doing Mario’s voice too much hurt so we don’t want him to feel any pain for our sake! We all owe Chris an apology. You did great bro

Seth Rogan: I love DK. He’s big, loud, goofy, and strong. Seth did that right and honestly idk who else would play him. Hearing Seth’s iconic laugh made me laugh, idk who can hate it. It fit DK as it kind of…sounded ape-like? The whole fight between Mario and DK was straight out of a game. I loved the interaction between DK and Mario. They’re enemies at first but soon, they respect each other as in the games. I wish that wasn’t the whole character development between two characters in the movie, I wish it was Mario & Luigi, Mario and toad, or Mario and Peach. Hell, even Mario and Bowser. But this is only the first movie so we’ll see more

Anna-Taylor Joy: not much to say about her. I think Peach was fun and I’m glad they didn’t go the “damsel in distress” or “girl boss” route. We get it, we’re becoming SOMEWHAT better in terms of shit like that but god we don’t need it every time. Peach was a badass, she cared for her kingdom and subjects, and she was sweet. That’s Peach! It wasn’t the “I don’t need no man” or forced relationship with Mario and that was good. I loved Peach’s racing outfit too and all the power ups. Peach was awesome, I’m glad they didn’t ruin her

Charlie Day: I haven’t seen much of him but wow I loved his Luigi! I always loved Luigi, he was always the b guy and he deserves a lot of love. He’s adorable. I wish Luigi had more of an interaction with Bowser. We could’ve gotten a lot of funny scenes with them together (of course it’d be fuel to the shipping fire) and it was cut too short. I mean, bowser didn’t need MUCH from Luigi, he just needed information so it wouldn’t make sense why he’d keep him around when he could throw him in the dungeon with Luma, the penguins, etc. And the whole thing with Mario and Luigi “sticking together” was nice but…they weren’t together AS much? Yes, Bowser kidnapped him but idk it didn’t really feel so emotional. Their team up at the end was amazing of course, had the biggest smile with the star music on. Luigi must be protected

Keegan-Michael Key: His Toad was good! Kind of wished we saw more of Toad and Mario together but he was the comic relief. Sucked he wasn’t in it as much but maybe next movie.

Jack Black: MY MAN. GOD HE KILLED IT. Was that any surprise? No, everyone knew Jack was gonna bring his a-game and he did. Bowser’s singing was amazing, I was cracking up during that scene. PEACHES PEACHES PEACHES aah it’s good. I loved how Bowser went from his usual scary self to a big sweetheart who just wants to love someone. Yea, he did threaten to kill Peach’s kingdom if she didn’t marry him but hey he said he wouldn’t if she agreed! You can absolutely tell Jack loved his role and that’s so important in movies for it to turn out well. Honestly, I’d say Bowser was my favorite in the whole movie! (Ngl, Bowser kinda..) Bowser was intimidating at parts, especially with Luigi. He was a lot scarier than I remembered and damn he is a power house. Im surprised that I didn’t see him utilize his shell and spin with it but whatever.

The story: yes there wasn’t much of a big plot. Do I care? Not really. It’s Mario! You don’t really need a plot per se because you already know the characters, you know the concept of Super Mario. To me, it was as if I was playing a really well animated game. It was fast, fun, and left me with a warm fuzzy feeling. The plot WAS Bowser coming, Mario and Luigi starting a company and not feeling like they’re on top. You don’t need a different story with Mario. Yes, this movie wasn’t on the level of Into the Spider-Verse or Puss in Boots like we were expecting but it didn’t need to be. I had a great time with a story or not

The sound effects: god, the little kid in me wanted to SCREAM. It felt so satisfying to hear all the sounds we hear in the games from hitting a shell, hitting the mystery box, or landing on the flag pole at the end of a level. They really hit the nail with them. And Luigi’s ringtone was GameCube!!

Oh yeah I loved Kamek’s voice. He sounded exactly how I pictured it. He was great. Loved the scene of him dressing up as Peach and getting ANGRY that he didn’t kiss Bowser

What didn’t work:

The slow motion moments: this was when I remembered “oh yea, illumination made this.” Some of the moments were fine with Mario giving Peach a side eye (with rizz). That was funny. But all the other times, it felt like the screaming goats in Thor Love and Thunder. In other words, it was used too much. To me, the slow-motion parts are just “haha, their voice is deep and slow. They move slowly. Haha funny joke.”

The songs: I did say the songs worked but they didn’t at the same time. I LOVED hearing all the familiar songs and sounds from the games. I liked the 80’s songs as Mario was made in the 80’s but it didn’t fit movie. As I said, it would’ve been better if they kept the 80’s songs in the human world and the Mario-esque songs in the Mushroom Kingdom, etc. But Illumination has gotta…illuminate I guess

The pacing: I felt like it was TOO quick. They go from Mario ending up in the Mushroom Kingdom and he finds Toad with barely an introduction and they rush to the castle. Then Mario finds Peach who just so happens to be going to the same place at the right time. There wasn’t enough time to breathe and there could’ve been so many good character interactions and development if they made it longer. We could have had more of Bowser and Luigi, Mario and Toad and Peach. I mean there are lots of characters and they have yet to introduce Yoshi, the Koopalings, and Daisy so hopefully it will be better in the second.

Illumination: I’m not too crazy with this studio. I love Despicable Me 1&2 but the rest are just meh. There were moments in the movie that were just so like this studio that it somewhat felt weird. The plumbing scene was funny but I think that is a good example. The whole thing with the dog being malicious was an Illumination thing. So were some of the models of the humans. The songs. Idk. If this movie was made by another studio like Dreamworks or Sony, maybe it would’ve been better??

Overall, I’d give this movie a 7.5/10. It had great moments and a lot going for it but there is still room for improvement. And that’s completely okay because we still have another movie. We only saw these characters on screen for ONE movie so there’s still more to be seen. I say fuck the critics, they don’t know what they’re talking about. This movie didn’t need to be woke or whatever. It almost didn’t need a plot. This movie was such a beautiful love letter to all of the Nintendo fans and I was smiling the entire time. They knew not to make it flop because of how iconic and beloved Mario is. I felt like a little kid again as I watched my favorite video game characters on screen and now I feel the need to play my Wii or switch. I look forward to seeing what they do in the next film.

TLDR: go see it. It’s a lot of fun

Also LET ME VOICE YOSHI I CAN DO HIS VOICE. IM GOING TO BE ON A TEACHER’S SALARY IM GONNA BE BROKE

#super mario #super Mario movie #mario #bowser #Luigi #princess peach #peaches peaches peaches peaches peaches #donkey kong #toad #Nintendo #can we get an animal crossing movie

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maraa755 · 3 months ago

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Ch. 17, The Rise of the Redhead

'My Marauders' Masterlist General Masterlist Read On Wattpad - Here!

Pairings: J.P., R.L., S.B. x OC Warnings: N/A Word Count: 9.0k

The boys hurried her out of the Astronomy Tower, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they descended the winding flights of stairs. Thankfully, Transfiguration was in the same wing, but Calliope barely noticed as she was too focused on the questions buzzing in her mind.

They reached the Transfiguration classroom, but not without resistance from Calliope, who dug in her heels at every turn, demanding to know what this so-called "Pact" was. The boys, however, were maddeningly evasive. Sirius wore a smirk that suggested he was enjoying her frustration, while James's grin hinted at some inside joke she wasn't privy to. Remus, on the other hand, seemed less sure, his nervous glances at her betraying a hint of guilt. She couldn't quite place why, but something told her he might be the one who concocted this mysterious 'Pact.'

The whole situation gnawed at her. What were they hiding? The secret felt like yet another barrier, a reminder that she was always on the edge of their world—close enough to see but never truly part of it. The Marauders had their secrets, and this "Pact" seemed to be just another one, another reason why she was merely an onlooker, not one of them.

It always pained her to think about this feeling of being perpetually on the outside. Ever since the first year, there had always been something they kept from her, a secret just out of reach. She'd tried to brush it off, telling herself it didn't matter, that it was just how things were. But this year—her final year at Hogwarts—something in her shifted. She was done ignoring it, done pretending it didn't hurt. The nagging sense of exclusion, the unspoken words between them, had followed her for six years, and she was determined that this year, she wouldn't let it slide. She wouldn't block it out, not anymore.

They said their goodbyes to Peter and stepped through the threshold of the Transfiguration classroom, relieved to find they had time to spare. The room was unusually still, with no sign of Professor McGonagall or her familiar Animagus form.

Calliope's mind drifted back to their first year, to a memory etched in her mind. Sirius and James had burst into Transfiguration, late as usual, thinking they had escaped McGonagall's ire. The room had seemed empty then, just as it did now. But before they could breathe a sigh of relief, the silver and black-marked cat perched on the desk had leaped down, transforming mid-air into Professor McGonagall herself.

Their expressions of peace and relief had evaporated instantly, replaced by wide-eyed fear and shock. Calliope vividly remembered how she and Remus had struggled to contain their laughter, pressing their hands against their mouths to stifle the sound. It was impossible to forget the moment Professor McGonagall, with her characteristic sternness, had suggested that one of the boys be transfigured into a pocket watch to ensure they'd never be late again. The look on Sirius's face had been priceless, and it had taken every ounce of self-control for her and Remus not to burst out laughing.

Calliope pushed the memory aside, shaking her head slightly as she took her seat without another word to the boys. Her emotions were still in turmoil, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. So much had happened in just one week, and it pained her to realize that, despite everything, it was still only the first week of school. The days felt stretched, each one dragging out like an eternity, weighed down by all that had transpired.

McGonagall was smart– although giving the boys and Calliope some shared detentions, she hadn't given them assigned seats next to each other. Clever move.

Calliope glanced at the empty spot beside her on the bench, noting that Gideon Prewett was missing from his usual seat. She sighed lightly, a small part of her feeling relieved. After what the boys had revealed about Gideon, she found herself thankful for the break. She appreciated being paired with him for Transfiguration, but it wasn't going to be easy pretending she didn't know about the ginger-haired boy's supposed crush on her.

Calliope glanced over her shoulder and found herself locking eyes with Remus. The contact was unexpected; he had been the one to look at her first. They held the gaze for a moment longer than necessary, and Calliope felt a low, unsettling flutter in her stomach. She swallowed hard, breaking the eye contact as she refocused on her surroundings. Her attention shifted to the empty seat beside Remus, only to find that Fabian Prewett—Gideon's twin—was also absent.

As soon as Calliope made her observation, the quiet of the room was abruptly shattered by the entrance of two red-haired figures. Gideon and Fabian Prewett burst in, laughing and joking with each other, their boisterous energy disrupting the calm. Their arrival immediately drew attention, their raucous behavior a stark contrast to the stillness that had preceded them.

The two brothers parted ways as they entered. Gideon made his way over to Calliope, while Fabian headed towards Remus. Gideon unceremoniously dropped his heavy backpack from his broad shoulders, the bag thudding softly against the floor as he settled into his seat beside her.

"Alright, Calliope?" Gideon greeted, a polite smile curving his lips.

"Hello," Calliope replied stiffly, an ache settling in her chest. She forced herself to meet his gaze, though the warmth of his smile only made the situation more complicated.

What Calliope didn't see behind her was the exchange of frantic glances among the boys. Each one stared wide-eyed, their mouths agape in silent shock. It seemed they had completely forgotten who Calliope sat next to. They could only hope Calliope didn't say anything rash to Gideon.

Just as the tension between the boys and the awkwardness in Calliope's chest reached its peak, Professor McGonagall made her entrance. She strode into the room with her usual air of authority, her sophisticated, modern witch's hat with its wide brim bouncing slightly with each step. The sharp click of her heels against the stone floor cut through the murmur of the classroom, immediately commanding attention.

"Good evening, students," she addressed the class in her crisp Scottish accent. "Do excuse my tardiness." She moved gracefully to the front of the classroom, her gaze sweeping over the students as she settled behind her desk.

"Now," she began, her eyes narrowing slightly as she surveyed the room, "I trust you are all prepared to learn about human transfiguration.

Calliope straightened in her seat, her heart still a bit uneasy from the earlier exchange, but she forced herself to focus.

McGonagall received a few nods and an even fewer chorus of agreement.

"You must realize that this type of transfiguration requires your utmost attention," McGonagall continued her voice unwavering and firm. Her gaze moved deliberately from James to Sirius, lingering only briefly on Remus. "I will not tolerate any rash, reckless, rancid raccoons running rapidly around my classroom! You will be careful. Human transfiguration is not a matter of humor or carelessness."

The room remained silent, the gravity of McGonagall's words hanging heavily in the air. To Calliope, it felt as though the warning was aimed squarely at the Marauders. The thought made the corner of her lips twitch up for just a moment, a flicker of amusement at their expense that she quickly stifled.

"Now then," McGonagall said, her tone shifting slightly as she turned to the blackboard, "we will begin with a review of the principles of human transfiguration. Open your textbooks to page one-hundred and fifty-six."

Calliope reached into her bag, her fingers skimming over the tops of her other books as she searched for her Transfiguration textbook. The familiar feel of the thick, well-worn pages met her touch, and she pulled the hefty book onto the table, setting it down with a quiet thud.

"Oh, no..." Gideon muttered under his breath, his voice so quiet that Calliope barely caught it. She turned her head towards him, noticing the way he was frantically rifling through his bag.

"Did you forget your Transfiguration book?" Calliope asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

He nods.

Calliope hesitated for a moment before offering, "We can share mine if you'd like."

Gideon looked up, relief washing over his face. "You are my savior, Calliope! Thank you."

Calliope laughed softly, sliding her book to the middle of the table. As she reached to open it, her hand accidentally grazed Gideon's, who was doing the same. "Sorry," she muttered, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Gideon didn't seem to mind. He gave her a quick smile before taking the lead, opening the large book with ease. His calloused fingers deftly flicked through the pages until they landed on page one-hundred and fifty-six, just as McGonagall had instructed.

Sirius watched the exchange with a narrowed gaze, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. After a moment, he subtly nodded toward James, signaling him to observe the interaction between Calliope and Gideon. James followed Sirius's lead.

Sirius didn't need to get Remus's attention; he was already looking towards Calliope.

Meanwhile, McGonagall turned from the chalkboard. A piece of white chalk floated in the air, writing out the following words with precise clarity:

'Human Transfiguration: Principles and Procedures'

McGonagall stood proudly behind her desk, her gaze sweeping across the classroom as she assessed which students had their textbooks ready. Her eyes briefly lingered on the various students, noting those who were prepared and those who seemed less organized.

"Mr. Prewett!" McGonagall's voice echoed sharply through the classroom. Both Gideon and Fabian, the two redheads, looked up from their textbooks in surprise. McGonagall's gaze then zeroed in on Gideon. "Excuse me, let me clarify—Mr. Gideon Prewett!"

He stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Forget our textbook, did we?" She gave him a pointed look.

"Yes, Professor, I do apologize." Gideon gulped, forcing a smirk to mask his embarrassment at being singled out. "Calliope is kind enough to let me share her textbook."

"I see..." Minerva smiled at the sight, "You're certainly lucky today, Mr. Prewett. Let this be your last wa–"

"—Take points away, Minnie!" James interjected loudly, his voice cutting through the classroom and drawing everyone's attention. At this, Sirius broke a laugh.

Calliope's head shook subtly in annoyance.

"Mr. Potter! Do I need to remind you that Gideon is a member of your house?" McGonagall's strict demeanor snapped back into place. Her eyes were sharply focused on James before briefly flicking to Sirius. "And Mr. Black, I do not appreciate your laughter, quite frankly!"

Sirius's laughter died quickly under McGonagall's stern gaze, though he still managed to maintain a lingering smirk. James's face, on the other hand, was marked by a sheepish grin.

"There are, however, house points I would like to award," McGonagall directed her eyes towards Calliope, "Five points to Ravenclaw for Miss Thorne's act of amity. Any complaints, Mr. Potter?"

James shook his head quickly, his grin fading into a look of resignation. "No, Professor," he replied, his voice subdued.

"Good," McGonagall said, nodding with satisfaction. "Now, let us proceed with the lesson."

McGonagall's gaze softened slightly as she moved back to the front of the classroom. She tapped the blackboard with her wand, and new diagrams appeared, illustrating the next stage of their lesson.

"Human transfiguration takes a lot of skill," McGonagall reiterated, her voice steady and resonant. "As I said before, you must be careful. Whether you are transfiguring yourself or another person, concentration is key. There are severe consequences if you fail to do so."

She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle over the classroom. "Today's exercise will involve a more intricate form of transfiguration: you will be changing the color of your partner's fingernails. This is not a simple application of polish, but a fundamental alteration of the nail's composition.

Kamal Patil, a wizard in Calliope's house raised his hand and James's current desk partner, raised his hand, "Professor, this is temporary, correct?"

McGonagall nodded, her expression reassuring. "Yes, Mr. Patil. The change will be temporary, and you will be taught the counter-spell to return the nails to their original state."

At this, the boy let out a relieved sigh.

"If you look at your textbooks, you'll find the name of the spell for today's exercise. Can anyone tell me what it is?" McGonagall asked, encouraging the students to skim through their books.

Remus's hand rose slowly, hesitating in the air before coming to rest halfway above his head.

"Yes, Mr. Lupin?"

"The spell is Chromadigitus," Remus replied, his voice clear and steady.

McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Correct, Mr. Lupin. Chromadigitus will be the spell you use today. Remember, precision is key. You must focus on altering the color of your partner's fingernails without affecting the rest of their appearance."

She gave a brisk wave of her wand, and a shimmering image of a hand with changing nail colors appeared on the blackboard.

"Before we begin, take a moment to review the counter-spell, Restaurare Digitus, as well. It's crucial that you can reverse the effect smoothly. We will practice that in the later part of the lesson."

The class went silent as McGonagall sat at her desk, pulling a stack of parchment paper toward her and dunking her quill into the ink pot set out before her.

"What did she say the counter-spell was?" Gideon asked, his hazel eyes locking onto Calliope's as he leaned his chin on his hand.

Calliope turned to Gideon, her gaze meeting his as he leaned closer, his eyes focused intently on her. "She said it's Restaurare Digitus," she replied, her voice low but clear.

Gideon nodded, absorbing the information. "Thanks," he said, his gaze lingering on her a moment before dropping his eyes down to her textbook.

As he looked away, Calliope's heart skipped a beat and she found herself staring at the side of his face. She couldn't help but linger on how striking his eyes were, the way they held a certain warmth that seemed to pull her in. Perhaps him fancying her wasn't such a horrid thing.

She dropped her gaze from his face to his hands, which were gently tracing the side of the textbook. His fingers were slim and long—less slender than Remus's and not as lengthy as James or Sirius's, but they suited Gideon perfectly. The rough edges of his palms, marked by calluses and faint bruises, spoke of his role as a Beater on the Quidditch team, a role that had clearly left its mark.

She couldn't help but let her mind wander, imagining the way he might be on the pitch. Did he have a different attitude? Was he more aggressive on the pitch?

From his hands, Calliope's gaze traveled up to his arms. Gideon had removed his robe moments earlier, as the temperature in McGonagall's classroom was unusually high. His arms were partially covered by the gray sweater of his Hogwarts uniform. While the sweater was designed to be loose, on Gideon, it clung tightly to his form. The fabric stretched over his biceps, which were notably well-defined and larger than one might expect from a typical student.

The sight of his arms, shaped by both Quidditch training and physical exertion, made Calliope's heart race slightly. She couldn't help but admire how the sweater highlighted his muscular build, a testament to his strength and athleticism. It was clear that his role as a Beater had left its mark not just on his hands but on his entire physique.

Following the line of Gideon's arms, Calliope's eyes drifted to his neck and chest, again, appreciating the way his Hogwarts-issued sweater fit him. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when a crumpled piece of parchment smacked her gently on the back of the head. She blinked, startled, and looked around, searching for the source of the unexpected distraction.

Calliope scanned the classroom, her gaze settling on James Potter, who was trying hard to suppress a smirk while glancing down at his textbook. With a sinking suspicion, she picked up the crumpled piece of parchment from the floor and unfolded it, laying it flat on her desk to see what it contained.

"Got an admirer there, Calliope?" Gideon asked, lifting his head from the textbook with a teasing smirk. His hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as he glanced at the crumpled paper on her desk.

"What! No! It's just James, just James," she blurted out awkwardly, cursing herself internally for the sudden awkwardness. Her face flushed slightly, her attempt to downplay the situation only making her more flustered.

Gideon's smirk softened into a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, if you say so," he said, his tone light and teasing. "Might as well see what 'just James' has to say?"

Calliope shifted in her seat, feeling her cheeks grow warmer under Gideon's gaze. She focused intently on the paper that had landed on her desk, unrolling it to reveal a note scribbled hastily in James's unmistakable handwriting.

The note read: 'Does Gideon have a stain on his sweater?'

Calliope's brows furrowed as she re-read the note, her mind racing. She wondered if he was referring to her looking at Gideon. She had thought she was discreet, but now, in light of the note, she worried she might have been more obvious than she'd realized.

Gideon noticed her troubled expression and tilted his head slightly. "Harsh note, yeah?"

"No, just something utterly stupid," she replied, trying to brush off her discomfort. She picked up her quill and began to scribble down a response.

She wrote: 'Excuse me?'

Calliope discreetly retrieved her wand, her fingers deftly casting a quiet levitation charm. The crumpled paper floated up from her desk, and with a swift flick of her wand, it shot across the room, hitting James square in the forehead.

James blinked in surprise, the smirk on his face faltering for a moment as he reached up to rub his forehead. The classroom erupted in soft chuckles, but McGonagall's attention remained fixed on the papers before her, her back turned to the students.

With a satisfied smirk, Calliope turned her body back towards the front of the class, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She hoped McGonagall hadn't noticed her subtle act of rebellion.

"Nice shot," Gideon said with a grin, turning his body toward their desk and mirroring Calliope's earlier movement.

Calliope looked up, surprised but pleased by his compliment. "Thanks," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Calliope turned her head to look over her shoulder, her surprise evident as she noticed that James wasn't replying. The note remained clenched in his fist, untouched. He caught her eye, his glasses perched low on his nose, but his expression was unreadable.

For a brief, intense moment, their gazes locked, and Calliope searched for any hint of his thoughts or intentions. James seemed to be evaluating her response, but before she could interpret anything from his gaze, he was the first to break eye contact, shifting his focus elsewhere.

Calliope turned her head back to the front of the room as McGonagall's voice cut through the classroom. "I hope you all have had enough time to read about the incantation. You may now perform the spell on your partners."

There was a murmur of excitement and nervous energy as students prepared to cast the spell. Calliope took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. She glanced over at Gideon, who was already gathering his materials with a focused expression.

"Wanna cast first?" Gideon asked.

Calliope nodded and gripped her wand tightly, feeling the smooth, cold wood against her fingers. With a focused gaze, she raised her wand and aimed it at Gideon's hands, which were laid flat and steady on the desk before her.

"Careful, I don't need my hand turning into a boar's head," He joked.

Calliope managed a small smile at Gideon's joke, though her focus remained on the task at hand. She took a deep breath, centering herself as she pointed her wand at his outstretched hands.

"Chromadigitus," she murmured, her voice steady as she performed the incantation.

Gideon's fingers remained still, but she could see a subtle shimmer of magic as the spell took effect. With a glance at his hands, Calliope noticed the slight color change—his nails were now a soft, pastel blue.

"Looking good, Gideon," She said, nodding to his nails.

Gideon lifted his hands to inspect the transformation, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I have to admit, I'm pleasantly surprised. Much better than a boar's head, for sure," he quipped, glancing at her with a playful glint in his eye.

"D'you want the counter-spell now?" Calliope asked, a smirk forming on her face as she watched him examine the nails.

He hesitated for a moment, "Nah, I quite like them. Let's leave them for a moment."

Calliope nodded, her heart skipping a beat as she held her hands steady on the desk. Gideon brought his wand closer to her fingernails, his expression serious despite the playful gleam in his eyes.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

"Ready," she replied, her voice almost a whisper.

With a careful flick of his wand, Gideon muttered, "Chromadigitus." A soft shimmer of magic enveloped her nails, and Calliope watched as the color slowly shifted, transforming into a vibrant, deep violet.

Gideon leaned in slightly, examining the results with a satisfied smile. "Looks like we're both naturals."

Calliope laughed softly, lifting her hands to admire the rich color. "They're quite beautiful actually."

Gideon brought his gaze from her hands to her eyes, a light pink blush dusting the tip of his nose and his cheekbones. "I think purple suits you well," he said gently.

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "Thank you," she replied, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

McGonagall approached their desk, her sharp eyes assessing their work. "Marvelous work, both of you," she remarked, breaking the small moment between them. Calliope quickly looked down at her hands, her smile lingering as Gideon straightened up in his seat.

"Thank you, Professor," Gideon said, his voice steady as he spoke for both of them. Calliope nodded in agreement, her eyes still on her newly transformed nails, the faint smile on her lips refusing to fade.

McGonagall gave a nod of approval before moving on to another pair of students. As she walked away, Calliope felt a small, pleasant tingle of satisfaction. The spell had worked perfectly, and the compliment from Gideon still warmed her cheeks.

"Are you ready for the counter-spell?" Gideon asked, his attention shifting back to her.

She laid her hands back on the table, "I'm going to miss them, but go ahead."

Gideon's lips curled into a teasing smile, "Well, if you ever want them back I suppose I can just do the spell for you, yeah?"

He took his wand and aimed it at her nails. The incantation, "Restaurare Digitus," flowed smoothly from his lips. As the spell took effect, Calliope watched her nails gradually return to their natural color, the purple fading away.

"I think I'll have to take you up on that offer," Calliope said, glancing at her plain nails that now sported nothing but a top coat of polish.

"Your turn?"

He nodded and allowed Calliope to do what she needed to, his hands, like Calliope's, returning to their natural color. With the spell completed, Gideon leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face.

"You're pretty good at this, you know," Gideon said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration.

"Are you surprised?" Calliope replied, a hint of playful challenge in her tone.

Gideon breathed out a laugh, "Not really," he said. "But it's nice to see someone who's as skilled as they are confident."

Calliope grinned, hiding her smile behind her robe.

McGonagall scanned the room once more, her eyes landing on Calliope and Gideon, who were among the first to complete both the spell and its counter-spell. She gave them a quick nod of approval and a brief "good job," before moving on to the next set of students.

The clock struck, and it was time for their next class. The room erupted in the usual sounds of students packing up and chatting.

Gideon packed his bag and turned to Calliope, a mischievous grin on his face. "Call me mad, but I cannot wait for our next Transfiguration lesson."

"I agree," Calliope said enthusiastically. "It's a fascinating subject. The ability to change things and—"

"And it helps to have a fantastic partner," Gideon interrupted with a playful wink. He slung his bag over his shoulder, gave Calliope a quick, warm smile, and headed toward his brother. "See you around," he called back, disappearing into the bustling crowd of students.

Calliope was initially taken aback by Gideon's comment, her mind buzzing with both confusion and flattery. Before she could fully process his words, she was interrupted by the arrival of The Marauders—minus Peter—who strolled up to her with their usual assertive presence.

"Hey, Calliope," James greeted, his grin wide and infectious. "Looks like you and Gideon had quite the productive session."

"I guess," Calliope replied, trying to suppress the blush that was surely creeping onto her cheeks.

Sirius narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, nudging James. "And from the look of things, he's quite taken with you."

Before Calliope could respond, Remus stepped in, his tone smooth and polite. "Nice job with the spell... You and Gideon seemed to have it down perfectly."

A smile tugged at Calliope's lips. "Yeah, I was pretty impressed with how well it went, to be perfectly honest."

"I see Gideon enjoyed the proximity," Sirius remarked, crossing his arms

"Huh?" Calliope asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sirius sneered. "Hm, nothing much. Just that he seemed rather... invested in the task at hand. Especially when it came to being close to you."

Calliope paused, thinking over her words carefully before responding. "Oh," she said slowly, "I suppose you did mention he fancied me?"

The boys exchange looks, remembering the lie– fib– that was told to distract Calliope.

"Yeah... about that," James began, a smirk spreading across his lips. "We got it wrong, love. It's actually Fabian who's got the crush. It's our fault for relaying the message incorrectly."

Remus's eyes widened slightly, his mouth parting in surprise before he quickly composed himself, closing it to ensure Calliope didn't notice his reaction.

Calliope's eyes widened in surprise. "Fabian? Not Gideon?"

Sirius leaned in with a teasing smirk. "You seem disappointed, Cal?"

"No..." Calliope replied, shaking her head slightly. "I'm just a bit confused. I...I guess it's a simple mistake to make."

A hum left Sirius's mouth, "Apologies."

With this revelation, Calliope felt a heavy weight settle in her chest. The fluttering in her heart that Gideon had caused moments ago now seemed like a cruel illusion. The reality was that her perception of Gideon's friendliness had been mistaken for something more.

It hurt to realize that the Marauders were involved—something she had hoped would be avoided this time. They hadn't deliberately tried to sabotage her potential relationship with Gideon, but their error in mistaking the brothers hurt.

False hope, Calliope realized, was a particularly cruel form of anguish.

Sirius's expression softened as he noticed the sadness in Calliope's demeanor. "It's okay though," he said gently, "I haven't heard the best things about that bloke anyway. He isn't good for you."

Calliope rolled her eyes, "Great chat, but I've got to head to Defense Against the Dark Arts now."

"Wait," Remus said, gently but firmly grabbing her wrist. His action felt significant, especially given his earlier want to cut Calliope out of his life. "It just so happens that Gryffindors have Defense with Ravenclaws this year. Can't hurt to walk together, right?"

"Right." Calliope took a quick breath, her surprise softening into a reluctant smile.

And so they walked together, but as they made their unusually quiet way down the corridor near the Astronomy Tower, a thought crept into Calliope's mind. If Gryffindors had Defense with Ravenclaws, then depending on Gideon's schedule, there was a chance he might very well share classes with her.

The thought made her heart beat faster, and soon her legs quickened to match, carrying her a few steps ahead of the Marauders trailing behind. Even if it was now confirmed that Fabian fancied her, it couldn't hurt to stay friendly with Gideon, right?

"Cal? What's the rush?" James called out, his voice cutting through the quiet corridor as he turned from the window to glance at her, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Calliope slowed her pace slightly, realizing just how much distance she had put between herself and the Marauders. "No rush," she responded with a quick wave of her hand, trying to play it off casually. "Just eager to get to Defense, I suppose."

"Who has ever been eager for Defense?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Sirius chimed in with a grin, "I'm sure we've got a boggart or three waiting for us in there."

"Perhaps I'm just happy to see Professor Weasley," Calliope shrugged, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Merlin knows how ancient she is. I need to treasure every valuable moment with her."

"Tessie? You want to see Tessie?" James asked, his voice incredulous as he raised an eyebrow.

Calliope gave a mock serious nod. "Of course. It's not every day you get to be in the presence of such a momentous character."

"Momentous? She's worse than Binns!" Sirius said, throwing his hands around.

"You have to be serious. Worse than Binns?" Remus rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

Sirius smirked, leaning in slightly. "First of all, I am Sirius," he said with an exaggerated pause, taking a dramatic breath before continuing. "And second of all, Binns doesn't lull me to sleep with that god-awful floral perfume. It makes me feel like I've been transported to my grandmother's couch in the middle of France while she's serenading me with a lullaby."

James snorted. "Like you've ever had a relationship with your grandmother."

"Oi, real funny, Potter!" Sirius shot back, narrowing his eyes with a mock glare, though a grin tugged at his lips.

Calliope couldn't help but crack a smile at their banter. Despite the whirlwind of confusion this year—no, this first week of school—when they joked like this, everything felt normal, as if James hadn't drawn her in only to shift his focus to Lily, as if she hadn't cried in Remus's arms, as if Sirius hadn't intimately kissed her cheek at the Black Lake and then shared the moment with their friends, as if Twomane wasn't a madwoman with her cryptic sayings, and as if she were truly one of the Marauders.

They arrived at the Defense Classroom, the room immediately smelling extra floral this year. As Sirius walked in, he made the joke, "If you led a blind man in here, you could convince him he's at a botanical garden.

Remus shook his head, his expression disapproving. "That's a bit in poor taste, Sirius." James, however, chuckled along, clearly finding amusement in the joke.

As for Calliope, she was scanning the crowd for a specific redhead. To her dismay, he was nowhere in sight.

The boys and Calliope to their seats, Remus and Sirius taking the desk in front of James and Calliope.

Remus organized his books and quill meticulously, preparing for the lesson ahead, while Sirius leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and back. His flowing black hair briefly rested on Calliope's desk. Normally, this might have bothered her, but she was too engrossed in rummaging through her bag to notice.

James pulled out his notebook and quill, the only items in his bag besides the Transfiguration textbook from their last class. He quickly organized them on his desk, the routine action done with practiced ease. It didn't take him long to sort through his things and get ready for the lesson.

As the class began, Calliope gathered her essentials—her notebook, Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, and quill—preparing for the lesson. Just then, Professor Weasley made her entrance. Her outfit was a striking blend of old-fashioned charm and eclecticism. She wore a voluminous dress adorned with layers of ruffles that cascaded from her shoulders down to her knees. The fabric was a patchwork of different textures and patterns, with vibrant hues of teal, deep burgundy, and gold woven together in a patchwork of floral and paisley designs. Her dress was cinched at the waist with a wide belt, and the sleeves were puffed, giving her a distinguished yet whimsical appearance. As she moved, the dress swished and fluttered, adding a touch of drama to her entrance.

It was certainly no ball gown, but for an older lady like Professor Weasley, this dress was quite extravagant. The dress, though not a high-fashion piece, was a testament to a bygone era, likely dating back to the 1930s. Its patchwork design was both practical and decorative, with carefully mended sections that spoke to the dress's long history. Various fabrics and patterns were stitched with noticeable artistry, blending rich, faded colors and intricate designs.

As she walked to the front of the class, her long ginger braid, streaked with white, swayed gently back and forth. The strands of her hair shimmered in the light, adding a touch of grace to her every step.

"Hello, everyone," she said with a warm smile, pulling her long braid to the front so it draped down her chest. "Welcome back to another year of Defense Against the Dark Arts, dears."

The class greeted her with a chorus of polite hellos and murmurs. Professor Weasley glanced around, her sunken eyes twinkling behind her rounded glasses as she took in the eager faces before her.

Professor Weasley looked out at the students with a nostalgic smile. "As you all know, this is your final year at Hogwarts." She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, her gaze softening. "It has been an absolute pleasure watching all of you grow into such magnificent witches and wizards. Your progress has been remarkable, and I'm confident that each of you will go on to achieve great things."

Calliope smiled at her teacher, the way she cared for all her students warmed her heart.

She continued, "This year, our focus will be on not just honing your skills but also preparing you for the challenges that lie ahead. We'll cover advanced defensive techniques and strategies to ensure you're well-equipped for whatever the future may hold."

Professor Weasley paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the room. "We'll start with a review of the fundamentals," she said, her tone thoughtful and measured. "But I encourage you all to push beyond the basics. This year is about mastering techniques and understanding how to apply them in real-world situations.

Professor Weasley's gaze grew serious as she spoke, "Some of you will go on to become Ministry workers, Aurors, Potion-Masters, magical creature caretakers, nurses, doctors, or even professors here at Hogwarts. No matter what path you choose, one thing remains constant: you will always need to know how to defend yourself."

Her tone softened again as she added, "This is not just about protecting yourself from dark forces; it's about being prepared for any challenge that life may throw at you. The skills you learn here will be invaluable, not only in the magical world but in whatever future you envision for yourself.

She paused, giving her students a moment to absorb her words. "Now, today, my dears, as I mentioned, we'll be revisiting the fundamentals," she continued, taking a deep breath. "Is everyone prepared? Notebooks and quills at the ready, please."

The students rustled as they complied, opening their notebooks and setting their quills in place. Calliope felt a sense of readiness as she arranged her supplies.

Professor Weasley's eyes scanned the room, ensuring everyone was ready before she began. "Good," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "We'll start with a review of basic defensive spells. These are crucial, as they form the foundation of everything we'll build upon this year."

"Today's lesson will start with a review of some core defensive spells," she announced. "We'll cover the basics of Shield Charms, Disarming Charms, and Protego Maxima. These are essential not only for your safety but for building a strong foundation for more advanced techniques. I trust you all know the spells like the back of your hand, but we must review them."

She walked over to a large blackboard and waved her wand, and diagrams and spell incantations began to appear. "The Shield Charm, or 'Protego,' is fundamental. It's used to deflect hexes, curses, and other magical attacks. Let's start with a demonstration."

Professor Weasley cast the Shield Charm with a fluid motion, and a shimmering barrier of light appeared around her. The class watched in rapt attention as she explained, "Notice how the charm creates a protective shield. It's important to focus on your intent and maintain concentration to ensure it's effective."

She cleared her throat, the sound carrying a hint of both authority and encouragement. "Now, to test the effectiveness of the Shield Charm, I'll need a volunteer to cast a spell at me." She looked around, her gaze sweeping over the students.

"Come on, don't be shy," she coaxed, her voice warm but firm. "It's all part of the learning process. Who's willing to give it a try?"

Sirius Black raised his hand, a skeptical look on his face. "Wait, are you serious? You actually want us to cast a spell at you?"

"Yes, darling," Professor Weasley replied with a reassuring smile.

Suddenly, the once mundane, floral-scented room seemed to come alive with excitement for Sirius. His eyes widened with enthusiasm. "Care for a go, Mr. Black?" Professor Weasley asked, her tone both inviting and playful. Sirius couldn't believe his luck; he felt as though he were dreaming.

"Alright, Professor," Sirius said, gripping his wand tightly as he stood up, "What spell should I use?"

Professor Weasley's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "Surprise me, Mr. Black. Show us your best shot."

The class watched in rapt attention as Sirius took a deep breath, focusing intently. He raised his wand and cast a spell, sending a vibrant burst of color toward Professor Weasley.

The spell hit its mark, and instead of causing any harm, it enveloped the professor in a swirl of sparkling lights that made her look like she was wrapped in a rainbow. The room erupted in laughter and applause, the atmosphere lightened by the display.

Professor Weasley laughed along, her face illuminated with genuine delight. "Very well done, Sirius! A bit flashy, but perfectly executed. That's the spirit I like to see."

Sirius beamed with pride, returning to his seat amid the cheers of his classmates. The once somber mood of the classroom was replaced with a buzz of excitement, as everyone eagerly awaited the next part of the lesson.

Sirius, still chuckling, leaned over to his friends and said, "Damn, this old lady is cool. Is someone using Polyjuice and pretending to be her?"

Remus gave Sirius a sideways glance, shaking his head with a smile, "Not as bad as Binns?"

"Definitely not as bad as Binns," Sirius confirmed.

"Now! Settle down, settle down, everyone," Professor Weasley said, waving her hands to calm the excited murmurs. "We must move on to another core spell." Her tone was firm but encouraging, guiding the students back to focus. "Today, we'll be revisiting the Disarming Charm, another fundamental spell for any witch or wizard. It's a simple yet powerful spell that can disarm an opponent and can be useful in a variety of situations."

"May I have another volunteer? Ah Mr. Black, let's find another person, yes?" Her eyes scanned the room, "Oh, quiet Miss Evans! How about you? Would that be okay?"

Calliope's head snapped in the direction Professor Weasley was pointing, her eyes widening as she saw Lily Evans. She hadn't realized Lily was in this class, and evidently, James hadn't known either, as his head swung around with equal speed.

An ache settled in Calliope's chest, the familiar sting of hurt resurfacing from Monday. The realization of Lily's presence, combined with the lingering pain from James's shifting focus, brought back the pang she thought she had put behind her– or at least was forced to put behind her amidst all of what happened this week so far.

"Yes, Professor," Lily's voice rang out clearly from the back of the room as she stood up.

"Perfect, dear," Professor Weasley replied with a smile. "Come over here, please." She gestured for Lily to join her at the front of the classroom.

Lily walked to the front of the class with a composed stride, her emerald eyes flicking briefly to James before focusing on Professor Weasley. The classroom buzzed with whispers, all eyes on the two at the front.

Lily anticipated Professor Weasley's instructions before she even spoke. With practiced ease, she drew her wand and held it steadily at her side, prepared for the demonstration.

"Ready, Miss Evans?" Professor Weasley asked warmly, her gaze encouraging. "Hold your wand firmly, please."

Lily nodded and tightened her grip on her wand. Professor Weasley raised her own wand, her expression calm and encouraging.

"Expelliarmus!" she intoned, sending a firm but controlled disarming spell toward Lily.

The spell struck its mark, sending Lily's wand flying across the room. With a quick flick of her wrist, Professor Weasley summoned the wand back with a precise "Accio!" and handed it back to Lily with a polite nod.

As Professor Weasley was about to introduce the next spell, a knock at the door interrupted her. The classroom buzzed with curiosity as the door creaked open, revealing a tall, bearded figure standing in the hallway.

Calliope, along with many other students, turned to see none other than Professor Dumbledore standing in the archway.

"Ah, my apologies for the interruption," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice warm and soothing as he directed his attention to Professor Weasley. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze twinkling as he spoke. "A word, Professor?"

"Of course, Albus," Professor Weasley replied with a nod, her voice equally warm. She turned to the class, her tone light and reassuring. "One moment, dears. I'll be right back."

With that, she followed Dumbledore out of the classroom, leaving the students murmuring in curiosity about the sudden and unexpected visit.

Remus and Sirius turned their attention to James and Calliope, swiveling themselves around in their chairs, their curiosity piqued. "So? You think they're having an affair?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.

Remus tapped Sirius on the head with his rolled-up parchment, his voice mock-stern. "Have some respect," he said, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Sirius rubbed the spot where the parchment landed, grinning. "I can't help it. You've got to admit, the thought crossed your mind too."

James groaned, his face scrunching in disgust. "Mate, you just made me picture Weasley and Dumbledore shagging." His eyes widened in horror. "Bloody hell, that's foul. I'll never get that out of my head now."

"You all need some maturity," Calliope rolled her eyes.

"Oi! Like you didn't picture it!" Sirius teased, wagging his finger playfully in Calliope's face.

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms with an amused smile. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, Black."

Sirius grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Denial. That's all I'm hearing."

Remus chuckled softly. "Pretty sure she's the only one here with any sense of decorum."

James shook his head, still grimacing. "Merlin's beard, can we drop it? I'm trying to forget, and you lot are making it worse!"

"Sorry, Jamie." Calliope laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand.

James's eyes widened slightly at the sound of the nickname. He hadn't realized how much he missed it—how much he missed her. Things hadn't felt right since Sunday, and hearing her call him 'Jamie' again made him think, maybe, just maybe, whatever awkwardness had hung between them had been sorted out. Neither of them had declared their friendship over, but in his mind, things had been strange, and he'd been too much of a coward to bring it up.

A few moments passed, and Professor Weasley still hadn't returned. The class grew restless, the murmur of voices filling the room as students exchanged glances. Ivan, a Ravenclaw sitting near the door, took it upon himself to sneak a peek into the hallway. He disappeared for a moment before slipping back in with a shrug.

"She's not there," Ivan announced, shaking his head. "No sign of her or Dumbledore."

The murmurs grew louder as students speculated about what could be going on. Sirius leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Maybe they're plotting something," he said with a smirk. "Weasley and Dumbledore, conspiring to take over Hogwarts."

Remus shot him a look. "Or they're just having a normal conversation, Sirius."

"Boring," Sirius muttered. "I liked my idea better."

"I think we should give her a bit more time," Calliope suggested, her tone cautious. "It could be something serious, like a family emergency."

"Smart thinking," James nodded, his gaze flicking briefly toward the door before returning to Calliope. "I'm with Cal. It's probably just that."

A few more moments passed and the classroom buzzed with quiet chatter, some students growing restless while others nervously glanced at the door.

Sirius leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What do you think Dumbledore would say if we just... took over the lesson ourselves?"

Remus sighed, though a smile tugged at his lips. "He'd probably say something cryptic like, 'The greatest lessons are the ones you teach yourselves,' or some nonsense."

"Exactly!" Sirius grinned. "So technically, we'd be doing the right thing."

"Don't," Remus said firmly, shoving his finger in Sirius's face to emphasize his point. Sirius, for once, actually listened, rolling his eyes but sliding back into his seat with a huff.

"Killjoy," Sirius muttered under his breath

After a few more moments of waiting, the class began to stir. Students yawned and stretched in their seats, the initial curiosity about Professor Weasley's absence fading into boredom. Some leaned back, eyes drooping shut as they drifted off to sleep, while others stared absently out the window, lost in thought. A few more studious types had pulled out books, quietly reading to pass the time.

The air of uncertainty hung over them all—no one really knew what to do without instruction, and with the mystery of their professor's sudden disappearance growing colder by the minute, the class seemed to settle into a collective lull.

Remus and Sirius were no exception to the growing sense of boredom. Sirius had draped his dark hair over the polished wood of his desk, his eyes closing in apparent resignation, while Remus had buried himself in a book, clearly content to lose himself in its pages.

Meanwhile, Calliope and James had slipped into a familiar, comforting routine from their childhood. They were engaged in their old guessing game, a simple yet surprisingly engaging activity where they tried to predict each other's thoughts. The game had no official name, but it had always been a reliable source of amusement for them.

"It's a shape," Calliope confirmed with a smile.

"Okay, uhm, hexagon?" James guessed, furrowing his brow.

"Nope."

"Umbrella?" he tried, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"What?" Calliope looked puzzled.

"An umbrella." James doubled down.

"No, definitely not."

"Hm, triangle?" James asked, rubbing his temples with his index fingers.

"Y'got it." Calliope nodded.

"Fucking finally." James sighed.

They had breezed through several rounds of their guessing game, each turn revealing surprising and amusing answers. Now, on their fifth round, Calliope was tasked with guessing the person James was thinking of.

"Alright, I'm ready," Calliope said, focusing intently.

James gave a small nod, "Go ahead."

"Remus?" Calliope guessed.

"No." He smirked.

"Oh... Lily?" Calliope asked, her smile fading.

"What?" James's eyes widened slightly.

"Lily." She restated.

For a moment, silence fell between them.

"She's here, you know," Calliope said, glancing over her shoulder at Lily, who was quietly reading in the corner.

"I know." James's gaze remained fixed on Calliope.

"I know you know." Calliope turned back, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes searching James's face.

Silence fell upon them again.

"Go talk to her," Calliope suggested, shrugging as casually as she could. It was a struggle to keep her voice steady when her heart felt heavy. She wasn't sure why she felt this way—well, maybe she did. When she and James had been on broomsticks together, she'd felt an unexpected, intense connection with him. But that feeling had been abruptly shattered less than a few hours later. Calliope wasn't typically competitive, yet something about Lily irked her, especially after their exchange at the pitch. It stung to think that, in some way, Lily might be coming out on top, a situation she seemed to effortlessly find herself in.

"No." He said, maintaining eye contact with Calliope.

"Why?" Calliope asked, her hands fidgeting together, betraying her nerves.

"If I go and talk to her, it means our conversation ends," James pointed out, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Calliope blinked in confusion. "Uhm, that's how conversations typically work, isn't it?"

James bit down slightly on his lower lip, his eyes fixed on hers. "What if I don't want it to end?"

Calliope's heart skipped a beat. "Hypothetically, you wouldn't be talking to Lily then, but this is pretty much your best chance. You'd have her full attention, wouldn't you?" She raised a brow, trying to keep her tone steady despite the fluttering in her chest.

James sighed, his gaze dropping momentarily. "I suppose... but I meant what I said."

"What?" Calliope's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I don't want our conversation to end," James repeated, his voice soft but earnest.

"Oh, really? Is guessing shapes and colors the highlight of your day?" Calliope teased, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers with a playful smirk.

James nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Please, we both know you'd love to head over to your 'Lily Flower.' I'm sure she could use another shoulder to cry on, maybe even a hug," Calliope said, her voice laced with a mix of sarcasm and hurt.

The words hung in the air, and Calliope immediately regretted them. She knew she might have sounded insecure or overly bitter, but she couldn't take them back now. She stood her ground, feeling a pang of regret but also a sense of resignation.

It was as if a lightbulb had gone off in James's mind. His eyes widened with sudden realization as he reached for her hands, but she instinctively pulled away.

"Calliope..." he began, his voice soft and concerned.

"Just go to her," Calliope said, her voice tinged with both regret and a hint of bitterness. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the look of understanding in his eyes, feeling a mix of shame and sorrow for her harsh words.

"Calliope, it's not Lily who I like it's–"

James's words were abruptly interrupted by a sandy-haired boy who called out, "Hey, Calliope!" Remus turned his back on Sirius and left his notebook behind on the desk, slamming his book down with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"This is truly an interesting book," Remus said, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "I'm so glad Pandora recommended it to me. You know Pandora, don't you?" He glanced over at James with a smirk. "Apologies, Prongs. I seem to have cut you off." With a quick swipe of his tongue across his scarred lower lip, Remus refocused his attention on Calliope. "Sorry about that, Calliope. I guess I accidentally interrupted."

"Oh, it's fine, Rem." Calliope smiled, turning to James, "Right, Jamie?"

James narrowed his eyes at Remus, flicking his tongue across his upper teeth. "Perfectly fine."

"Perfect." Remus flashed James another smirk before looking down at his book. "Would you like to maybe read the book together, Calliope?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anything," Calliope said with a polite smile, trying to give him an out.

"Don't be silly," Remus said with a reassuring grin. "I've just barely finished the first chapter, and I truly don't mind restarting."

"Well, if you insist," Calliope replied with a smile. "Where should we...?"

"Prongs," Remus called out, "Up. You're sitting with Sirius."

"What?" James looked up in confusion.

"Get up and sit with Pads," Remus said firmly, gesturing for James to move.

"Mate, you're kidding?" James deadpanned.

"Watch out for his drool," Remus smirked, waiting for James to move.

Eventually, James, albeit begrudgingly, got up and slid into Remus's old seat next to Sirius, who had already sprawled out comfortably.

Remus's smirk grew into a satisfied grin as he watched James grudgingly take the seat next to Sirius. With James finally settled and grumbling, Remus turned his attention back to the book, his eyes gleaming with a sense of triumph.

Calliope, now seated beside Remus, quickly became engrossed in the book. The words seemed to come alive as she read, drawing her into a world far removed from the earlier tensions and awkward conversations. She turned each page with a growing sense of interest, her earlier concerns momentarily forgotten.

As Calliope immersed herself in the text, Remus, reveling in his subtle victory, occasionally glanced at her with a satisfied look. The quiet buzz of the classroom around them seemed to fade as she focused intently on the book, her brows furrowed in concentration.

A smirk played on his lips as he mentally tallied the score: James - 0, Sirius - 0, Remus - 1.

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ripgray-moved · 8 months ago

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" gloat? " paimon stills entirely, looking eerily paused while the rest of the world continues to move; suspended in statuesque silence, manic eyes fixed and wide needle-toothed smile mercilessly brandished, while the leaves continue to wave. quiet stretches uncomfortably, the air becoming THICK with unresolved tension— and then the king deflates dramatically, smoky crown on a tilt that makes it look as though it's slid down his head. depressed. "you're breaking my HEART here, dixie!"

his form shifts entirely, first resembling melting candle wax, features liquefying into an indiscernible blur before he becomes a staggered shadow mass that dissolves into the clearing floor.

for one blissful moment, paimon is gone.

"y'k̶n̷o̸o̶o̷w̷..." the demon's voice crackles like static despite him not being visible at the moment, both quiet and loud before it becomes damn near DEAFENING. the trees shaking, folding back as if trying to uproot and run away from the impossibly high frequency he emits as he speaks. now merle— or not-merle; a bastardisation of him that still sounds exactly like him all the same. "you probably shouldn't be so surly, baby brother. don't make me be mean to you..." from between daryl's legs does an indistinguishable shadow emerge; it loops around them like a cat seeking affection, only the 'head' that can vaguely be made out is COVERED in eyes. in a chillingly direct tone, now the demon's own: "don't make me do that. behave."

the shadow vanishes.

the static dies.

paimon floats nonsensically from above, LIKE AN ANGEL, until he's eye level with daryl once more. "no, no, no— if i wanted to gloat, why i'd be wearing my sunday best! you'd also be waist-deep in a BIG champagne glass, 'cause it's FUNNY! a big glass for a big fella. no, i'm not gloating. i'm GREETING! we're just talking, guy."

if there's anything he's fascinated about, it's daryl's decision to help peter in the first place. just about anybody would argue that he has enough on his plate, with the foes he's made recently— and paimon, privy to the future, knows JUST who sits in wait for him and his people too. i think half moon's a liiittle bit bigger than you, sunshine!

"i just want to know what exactly was running through your pretty little head when you decided to help my host. i'm not angry! things will happen as intended either way! but i am curious— do you think this is going to absolve you of your past failings? is that what this little cutie is for you? an absolution?"

standing with the resolve of a redwood in the face of his potential demise is something that daryl is unfortunately very familiar with. it would be impossible for him to think back and count the number of times he's been tied up, or forced to his knees with a gun to his head, or otherwise had his life threatened. but those times were all strictly human. evil or ill-intentioned, perhaps, but still human. right now, daryl doesn't have humanity to fall back on.

watching paimon's limbs move churns his gut in an entirely new way: it's like watching a spider uncurl its legs, or a hydra unravel its heads, or a bird of prey unfurl its wings, or a beast yawn open its toothy mouth— daryl has to blink hard, shaking his head a little like he's willing all of the images to align. paimon is incredibly difficult to look at sometimes, he realizes; there are moments where it feels like he's looking at a cosmic chaos head on before suddenly, everything is in focus again. the jarring changes threaten to give him a headache.

but then paimon ventures closer, every nerve ending in daryl's body vibrating with alarm as a hookclawed hand reaches for him. touches him. anyone else knocking their knuckles upon the crown of his head and running their fingers through his hair would be innocuous. not a speck of physical harm done. but the touch of a demon comes like a bucket of lava over his scalp, dripping boiling tendrils down to his shoulders and following that invisible talon down his spine. for a moment, the unreal heat of pure terror that rakes out from every point of contact distracts him from how he's trembling in the chill of the night.

as paimon speaks, daryl thinks he's going to skin him like a rabbit. he's learned that he shouldn't put anything of the sort past a metaphysical being sent from hell, and quite frankly, he's convinced that paimon is playing with his food before he eats it right now. he could just be scaring daryl, showing him some of what he's really capable of— or he could be having a little bit of fun before eviscerating him into a pile of ribbons to be arranged neatly at peter's door.

but no. the only rabbits daryl has to deal with right now are the ones that suddenly appear on his feet in the form of slippers. as he looks down at them, flinching at the abrupt weight of a robe appearing on his body, he meets a perturbing gaze that looks way too much like peter's. way too real. in disgust, he shoves them off of his feet and steps his sore feet back onto the grass, hands gripping the soft fabric of the robe before it disappears entirely.

the whirlwind doesn't stop, however. despite the harrowing journey out here and the distress that's clenching his throat, daryl fears that it's just beginning. as paimon rotates through different pieces of clothing, forcing him to feel the horrors that usually only plague his mind and not his body, daryl can only look down at himself in dreadful wonder: somehow, paimon knows things about him. things he hasn't even told peter. articles like negan's leathers and will dixon's coat form to his body for just long enough to start his mind reeling in misery before switching to the next awful incarnation of his traumas.

merle's shirt sticks to him like dried blood as the cycle finally pauses. if there's any piece of clothing he's at least somewhat comfortable in despite the pain of him being gone, it's this one. a part of his mind is grateful for the moment of respite. ‘ you just here to gloat? ’ daryl asks, though he hesitates to engage with paimon more than just staring at him and he's surprised his tight jaw let him speak at all.

‘ f' you know everythin' already then lemme go. ’

bold. but if paimon is going to kill him, he may as well be.

#𖤐 ⸻ apocalypse. ❜#𖤐 ⸻ paimon. ❜#𖤐 ⸻ in character. ❜#triple a. *#aintashes #[ THE SHADOW WINDING AROUND HIS LEGS IMAGERY I'M SHITTINGGG ]

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linksvorne · 2 years ago

Photo

32. INSECT ARK. 2021-10-29 @ Rote Bar im Volkstheater (Peter Cat’s Wide World of Sound; w/ Paul Wallfisch)

#insect ark #dana schechter #drone #doom #instrumental #peter cat's wide world of sound #volkstheater wien #rote bar #far from linksvorne

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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Would You Rather?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom mentions his crush on you during an interview and you respond

Authors note: this was requested by anon who gave a generous donation to the BLM fund. Thank you!

Masterlist

“Would you rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse?” Tom read off a card as he adjusted the collar on his blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t know what situation I’d be in where I’d have to fight either of these animals.” He started as he looked at the camera. “I feel like I’d rather fight duck sized horse because that’s pretty small. I could probably defeat that. But a horse sized duck could bite me, you know?”

The crew nodded in agreement and Tom moved on to the next question.

“Would you rather lose the ability to read or the ability to speak?” Tom scratched behind his head as he thought about it.

“I barely have the ability to read as it is.” He laughed. “I’m an actor, so I feel like I need the ability to speak.”

He dropped that card on the couch and picked up the next one.

“Would you rather have Captain Marvel or Black Cat as your girlfriend?” He smiled as he read.

“I don’t know if they mean as my girlfriend or as Spider-Man’s girlfriend but I without a doubt would pick Black Cat.” Tom said confidently. “I was so upset when they cast Y/n L/n as the Black Cat and didn’t connect her movie to the Spider-Man universe.”

“Why were you upset?” A crew member asked.

“Because I’m in love with Y/n.” Tom laughed like it was obvious. “I must’ve seen every movie of hers 100 times. Especially the Black Cat suit because she looked so freaking hot in that.”

“She really did.” A female lighting director nodded in agreement.

“Right? If Black Cat was Spider-Man’s girlfriend and Y/n was my girlfriend I’d be a very happy man.” Tom sighed dreamily and toyed with the card as he day dreamed about you.

That video went up a few days later and made the usual headlines. You were well aware of Tom as an actor but completely unaware of his crush on you. Your heart stopped that first time you saw the headline:

“Watch Tom Holland gush over his celebrity crush, Y/n L/n.”

And yes, you did watch.

You watched many times in fact. The part where he said he was in love with you was your personal favorite. After getting sent the video by all your friends and fans, you decided to do something about it.

“@tomholland1996 you look pretty hot in your suit as well. And out of the suit. And in regular clothes. Damn dude, you’re pretty hot.”

You posted the tweet with a devious smile and shut your phone off. Whatever the world had to say about it, they could wait until the next morning.

You were woken up early the next morning by your phone ringing. You wiped the sleep from your eyes but kept them shut as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Y/n? It’s your manager. I have some exciting news.” Your manager sounded giddy on the other side of the line.

“So exciting that you had to wake me up?” You laughed sleepily.

“I don’t know.” She humored you. “Do you think the Russo Brothers emailing me and asking you to come to set is exciting?”

You sat up quickly as your eyes flew open.

“What?” You shrieked in excitement.

“They said they’ve been rewriting the script for Infinity War for the past few weeks and it’s finally finished. They added a scene with the Black Cat.” She said in a sing song voice. Your breath hitched in your throat as the news flooded into your ears.

“You’re kidding.” You gasped.

“Nope. Can you drive down to set at 1? I sent you the address.” She told you.

“I’ll be there.” You nodded as a wide smile spread across your face. Your manager hung up and you threw down your phone.

“AHHHH.” You screamed in excitement and immediately got dressed. It was finally happening.

You were finally going to be in the MCU.

You arrived at the address promptly before 1 and were led to set by an assistant. The Russo Brothers met you by the trailers and introduced themselves.

“Great to meet you.” Joe shook your hand, then Anthony. “How much did your manager tell you?”

“Just that you added a scene with the Black Cat.” You nodded as you relayed all the information you had.

“Right. We decided to add the Black Cat to the MCU now that her character has been established in your solo movie.” Anthony explained. “We had to keep it a secret until now to keep it from getting leaked. We have big plans for your character, starting with this movie.”

You smiled gratefully at the two of them and nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I’m so honored to be here. What are the plans?” You asked as you twisted your fingers nervously.

“For starters, meet your new boyfriend.” Joe chuckled and turned around and pointed.

“Boyfriend?” You asked and followed his finger.

“Tom, get over here.” He called. Your eyes widened when you realized what name he called and you looked up to see Tom jogging over to you.

“What’s up guys?” He looked at the Russo bothers before his eyes landed on you. His smile faded and he blinked a few times to register the sight in front of him.

“Hi.” His face flushed and he smiled shyly at you.

“Hi.” You smiled back, still not believing what was happening.

“I’m- I’m Tom.” He fumbled over his words as he held out his hand.

“I know.” You laughed softly as you shook his hand.

“Right, sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “Whats uh, what’s she doing here?”

“Change of plans.” Anthony smirked as he handed you and Tom a few pages of the script.

“You’re giving me a script?” Tom asked in disbelief as he ran his fingers over the crisp white pages.

“Yes. Don’t make us regret it.” Joe said sternly.

“Yes sir.” Tom nodded eagerly and began to flip through it.

“Peter is going to get thrown by one of Thanos’s men and Black Cat is going to catch him.” Anthony began to explain. “She saw the spaceship, came to help, and winds up in space with Tony, Steven, and Peter.”

“That’s awesome.” Tom breathed. “This looks really cool.”

You were so wrapped up in the excitement of holding a real Marvel script that you had forgotten the brothers original statement.

“Hold on. You said he was my boyfriend.” You looked at Joe and Anthony skeptically.

“Boyfriend?” Tom perked up from his script and looked between the three of you. “Me boyfriend? To her? Please say yes. I’m fine either way it’s just, I would really like you to say yes right now.

“Yes Tom.” Joe laughed. “Right as they’re falling in love, poof.”

“Dust.” Anthony finished. You and Tom shared a look, evidently impressed.

“That’s brutal.” You remarked.

“It is.” Joe agreed. “Until they’re reunited in Endgame in a similar fashion to the way they met.”

“And the crowd goes wild.” Anthony said slowly. You got chills just thinking about it and smiled as you rubbed your arms.

“I like it.” You nodded and Tom bit back a smile.

“Me too.” He said softly. “I like it a lot.”

“Great.” Anthony rubbed his hands together. “Rehearsal starts tomorrow.”

The brothers walked away, leaving you and Tom alone with each other.

“They don’t play around over here. I just got cast and already I’m on set.” You chuckled and shyly looked at Tom. He was so much cuter in person, the camera didn’t do justice to his freckles. Tom nodded and gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, they’re pretty unorthodox over here. I’d tell you you’d get used to it, but I’d be lying.” Tom shook his head and gave you a once over. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you told the world I looked hot in my catsuit but never dmed me to ask for my number.” You shrugged easily and Toms jaw dropped at your boldness.

“In my defense, you are way too cool to be interested in me. At least I knew my place.” He shot back and you laughed.

“Didn’t you see my tweet last night?” You asked coyly as you raised an eyebrow.

“What tweet? The one about you calling me hot? The one that I sent to every single contact in my phone, including my dentist?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I don’t think I saw it.”

“Funny.” You folded your arms and gave him a sultry smile. “I never checked if you responded.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t. It wasn’t very smooth.” He admitted.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes?” He looked at you.

“Would you rather continue talking in the middle of a crowded set or go somewhere secluded to run our lines?” You made a callback to his interview that started it all and he noticed.

“Run lines please. I need to quit while I’m ahead.” He eyed you with uncertainty as he thought about his words. “I was ahead, right?”

“Yeah.” You smirked and linked your arm through his. “You were ahead.”

“Kid, what are you doing here?” Tony asked as he craned his neck to see Peter.

“On a field trip to MOMAAAAAA.” Peter yelled as he was flung into the sky. He flew through the air like a rag doll until he landed in your arms. You breathed heavily, you in your masks and suits.

“Hey there.” You smirked at Peter as you held him bridal style.

“Hi, I’m Peter. You’re really pretty.” He said through heavy pants. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Hi Peter.” Your wine colored lips tugged into a smile. “Should you really be telling me your name? I could be dangerous.” You pouted as you set him down.

“Oh, right.” Peter got back on his feet and brushed off his suit. “In that case, I’m not Peter. I’m…Pedro.”

“Mm, Pedro. I like it.” You winked and saw one of Thanos’s minions coming at him from behind. “Watch out.”

You spun around and kicked the minion in the face before hooking your legs around his neck and knocking him to the ground. One swift punch to the throat knocked him unconscious. You stood up and waltzed back over to Peter as you dusted off your hands.

“Woah, where’d you learn to do that?” The eyes of Peters mask widened as you impressed him with your skills.

“A woman’s got to protect herself, right?” You shrugged and popped gum in your mouth before eyeing him up and down. “And apparently, I have to protect you too.”

“I’m totally fine with that.” Peter answered honestly. “Do you have a name?”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Black Cat.” You said once it popped. The sent of bubble gum filled Peters nostrils and his knees weakened.

“That explains the catsuit.” He gulped. “What, no tail?”

“Tails are so cliche.” You whined and stroked his covered cheek with your hand. “I’m a cat burglar, not a halloween costume.”

“If this is how you go out on a normal day, I’d love to see what you wear in Halloween.” Peter attempted time flirt back with the mysterious woman distracting him from his mission. You leaned forward, close enough that your lips were almost touching.

“I bet you would.” You whispered. You patted his cheek and turned away swiftly, whipping his face with your long gray ponytail. Peter let out a throaty groan as the scent of your perfume enveloped him. You walked around him in a circle, dragging your fingernail along his shoulders as you went.

“Since you know my name is Peter, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” He said as he turned his head to look at you. You paused, standing directly behind him.

“You really wanna know my name?” You challenged.

“That’s what I just said.” Peter sassed you. You smirked and took a step towards Peter so you were pressed against his back, gripping his waist tightly.

“Hardy.” You said right in his ear and he shivered. “Felicia Hardy. I’ve seen you around, Spiderman. You’re pretty good.”

You finished your circle and stood in front of him now. He was grateful for his mask, otherwise you could see just how red he had gone. His heart was racing out of his chest just from the look of you. The white fur cuffs and skintight black suit were making it impossible for him to focus.

“Just pretty good?” He questioned. “I’ve taken down a lot of bad guys.”

“Mm, but never me.” You taunted as you twirled your gray hair around your finger, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“You’re a bad guy?”

“Depends on your definition of bad guy.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your teeth drag. “Do you think I’m bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad.” Peter straightened up.

“This has been fun.” You smirked and tossed your ponytail over your shoulder. Nice talking to you, Peter.”

“You too.” Peter smiled under his mask until a Boulder was flung your way. “Look out!”

Peter shot a web at you and pulled you flushed against his chest. He pulled you to the ground and rolled on top of you as the boulder went over your heads. It was your turn to be blushing as you stared at Peter in amazement.

“How did you-“

“Spidey senses.” He answered before you could finish your question. He could feel his body beginning to lift into the air with you following. “Oh no.”

“What’s happening?” You asked as you and Peter lifted into the air. You clutched him tightly to keep from falling and Peter held on to you for support.

“Mr Stark!” He yelled. “I’m being beamed up!”

“And cut!” Anthony yelled. The wires holding you and Tom up slowly lowered you back down until you were back on the ground. Tom rolled off of you and fell on his back, breathing heavily from the scene. He pulled his mask off and rested it on his tummy.

“Whew.” He panted and looked at you with a tired smile. “Great work.”

You smiled back at Tom, still flushing from the flirty scene. You had done that scene many times from rehearsal all the way to production, but never that well. Your heart usually stopped racing by now, but something about the way he was looking at you kept it in rhythm.

“You too.” You complimented him as you sat up. You helped each other up and pulled each other into a sweaty hug.

“That’s a wrap guys. Great work today.” Joe announced. “Before you leave, I have the official version of the script. This is what we’re going to be filming tomorrow. We couldn’t give it to you until now in case someone spoiled it.”

Joe glared at Tom as he handed out the final scripts.

“I hate it here.” Tom mumbled as his ability to keep secrets was once again under fire.

“Great, thank you.” You smiled at Joe before he walked away. Tom came over to you, hitting his rolled up script against his hand.

“Do you want to go over our lines for tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there after I drop off my costume.” You told him.

Twenty minutes later, your wig and costume were returned to the costume department. You wiped off your makeup and changed into comfortable clothes before heading to Tom’s. You let out a shaky breath as you walked towards his trailer. You’d been in there a hundred times since production began a few months ago, but today felt different. There was something in the air between you and Tom that neither of you could ignore. You knocked on his door and heard your heartbeat in your ears as you waited for him to open. Tom gave you a shy smile as he opened the door of his trailer door for you and stepped aside.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy.” He apologized as he shut the door behind him. You looked around at Toms trailer, noting the clothes hanging off the ceiling fan and the pictures of the two of you taped to his mirror. You walked over to the mirror and touched the picture with a light smile. It was a strip of picture taken in a photo booth a few weeks into production. The photos went from you and Tom smiling, to laughing, to you kissing his cheek, to him kissing your cheek as you laughed. You had spent your only day off together, hanging out a a fair until the sun was coming up. After getting stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel for 15 minutes and clinging to Tom every time it shook, you ran to the photo booth to immortalize the night. You had the exact same strip of photos on your dresser at home, but you never noticed that he displayed them so proudly.

“It’s very you in here.” You looked at him over your shoulder and shot him a smile.

“Thanks?” He bit his lip in confusion.

“Don’t worry. It was a compliment.” You said pointedly and walked back towards him. “Should we look at the script?” You suggested and he nodded.

“Yeah. Here, take a seat.” He sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you. You sat next to him and folded your legs, beginning to flip through the script.

“This looks the same as the last script.” You realized when you recognized the words. Tom flipped through his script and came to a halt when he read something unexpected.

“It’s not.” He said with a dry mouth.

“What’s different?” You looked up at him in confusion.

“There’s a kiss.” He looked you to and saw your face go pale.

“A kiss?” You stammered and went back to your script to find what he was talking about.

“Right here.” Peter held out his script and pointed to the part. “Felicia kisses Peter before she turns to dust.” He read.

“So this is what they didn’t want you spoiling.” You laughed nervously as you read the stage direction over and over.

“They might’ve made a good call on that one.” Tom chuckled softly. “I’m really tempted right now to post a picture of the script on twitter just to rub it in everyone’s face.”

You looked up from the script and gave him a fond smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said softly.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “It’s not everyday you get cast opposite your celebrity crush.”

“How do you think I felt when I got cast as your girlfriend?” You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top.

“You...liked me?” Tom asked quietly. He didn’t let himself believe it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“For a long time now.” You admitted. Production was about to end anyway. If he didn’t feel the same, there was nothing you could do about it, but at least he knew.

Tom blinked a few times as he registered what you said and smiled widely.

“I’m really glad I got to know you these past few months. You’re a lot cooler in person.” Tom said sincerely. “Honestly, I have no idea how I’m supposed to act beside you tomorrow knowing I have to kiss you.”

“Tom.” You said breathlessly at his words.

“I’m already a nervous wreck. My mind is in sicko mode right now. I can’t even read.” He put his script down and sighed.

“I think I might be able to calm you down.”

“How?” He wondered. He looked up at you for answers, but was met with a kiss. You tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips against his feeling his eyelashes brush your cheek as his eyes fluttered shut. Tom brought his hand to the side of your face for support and gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You smiled against his lips and sat up a little to get a better angle and kissed him deeply. You pulled away to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. The only sound in the trailer was from your heavy breathing.

“You’re really smart.” He said quietly. “I feel significantly calmer.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You chuckled softly. Tom pulled away and took on of your hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it.

“I have a question for you.” He said.

“Go for it.” You bit your bottom lip as you both spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you rather,” he began with a coy smile, “kiss me again or go on a date with me?”

“I can’t have both?” You pouted and a wicked flame ignited in Toms eyes. He hooked his pinky under your chin and moved your face towards his, leaning close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke.

“I think I can make an exception.” He whispered before kissing you again.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @wendaiii @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x yn #spiderman #tom holland blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x felicia hardy

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homosexuality-at-its-finest · 3 years ago

Note

Hey hey hey munchkin cat anon here. im gonna be inhabiting this place for a while so feel free to call me Cat. I loved the peter parker fic! And i adore family fics, so perhaps a Clint Barton x son reader where reader is the oldest kid and is a figure skater but had to stop for like a year or two due to an injury. And now Clint and Natasha has made it their new job to keep reader happy because figure skating was his life. Have a nice day and don't feel pressured to do this! - Cat.

A/n: You can not imagine how excited I am to have a regular anon, like I saw this and started happy stimming. I'm really happy you liked the fic, but I don't know shit about skating so if I get anything wrong I'm sorry!

Plot: Requested

Pairing: Clint Barton X Son reader

Y/n: Your name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: Clint’s deaf, Past injury causing chronic disability, angst with a fluffy ending, Clint’s a good dad, Natasha’s a good aunt, crying

Word count: 1092

Clint could clearly remember the day Laura had informed him she was pregnant for the first time; it had been a little over 16 years ago.

He had cried while kissing her stomach, hope filling his heart at the idea of starting a small family with his beautiful wife.

His son had come to the world, E/c eyes wide and curious. He was a wonderful baby, hardly fussing, a total daddy’s boy.

The name they’d chosen was Y/n, fitting the little boy perfectly. He was a ball of energy, constantly running around, seemingly never tired.

The first time Clint took him ice skating it was like love at first sight for the child. No matter how many times he fell, he always got back up. He practiced until he was perfect, joining competitive ice skating as soon as he was old enough.

Clint and Laura, and eventually his siblings were at every meet, and soon enough Natasha has joined along, watching with pride as the boy nailed every move with perfection.

Ice skating had become his son’s life, from a young age he had declared that he’d be in the Olympics one day, and Clint believed him. The kid worked harder than most SHIELD agents he knew.

It was one competition that Clint couldn’t attend where everything had fallen apart. He’d been on a mission, awoken in middle of the night to the phones vibration, sweat sticking to his skin as he sleepily shoved a hearing aid in his ear and answered.

The sound of Laura’s panicked voice, thick with tears was enough to wake him up, heart pounding in his chest.

“What’s wrong baby?” Clint asked, holding the phone against his shoulder as he pulled on his pants, seeing Natasha sitting up in the other bed from the corner of his eye.

“Its Y/n.” Laura sniffled, taking a second to breathe. “At his competition he didn’t catch himself and landed wrong, he broke his ankle. The doctors said he may never going to skate again, and he isn’t moving or talking.” The woman whimpered, before muffled voices were heard over the phone.

“I know you’re on a mission, but Clint you need to come home.” Laura said quietly, another sniffle leaving her lips. Clint swallowed thickly, closing his eyes for a second.

“Yeah, I’ll call Nick, mission was almost finished anyways. I’ll be there soon.” He soothed his wife, the two-bidding goodbye before hanging up.

It was a long few calls he had to make as he packed up and updated Natasha on what happened, his mind on his son who was lying in a hospital bed, his dreams crushed.

By the time he was on a jet back to the SHIELD base in his city it was approaching dawn, his nerves through the roof.

Time had passed as a blur as he drove to the hospital, not giving a damn about the laws as he sped. Laura was waiting for him by the front door by the time he arrived, eyes red and puffy, lips pulled into a frown.

Clint gave her a hug, pressing a kiss to her head with a soft ‘hey baby’ before pulling back.

“How’s Y/n doing?” He questioned softly, following behind his wife as she led him through the maze like halls of the hospital.

“He’s still not talking. Clint he’s devastated. You know how much ice skating meant to him.” Laura sighed, shaking her head, pausing in front of a door.

“He’s always been a daddy’s boy, so I’m hoping you can get through to him.” Clint nodded, before walking into the room. It had been a long one sided conversation with Y/n, he didn’t talk for 3 days after his injury, those were the worst days of his recovery.

A few months after the injury had occurred Natasha had been visiting, eyeing her nephew for a few moments before humming.

“Y/n, I know you can’t skate right now, but have you ever thought about training with your dad or I?” She questioned, tipping her head to the side.

Clint shot his best friend a look, and she only gave him a glare back.

Y/n looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at Natasha.

“Training with you guys?” He questioned, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Sure why not?” Y/n shrugged a bit, he’d been bored and wandering around aimlessly for months now, unsure what to do with himself now that he couldn’t skate.

Natasha grinned, eyes gleaming mischievously as she stood up.

“Go change and then meet us in the yard.” She ordered the teen, the boy giving a mock salute before following the orders.

Clint turned to his best friend, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are we training with my 16 year old son? He questioned, leaning back into the chair he was sitting in.

“It may not be skating, but it keeps his body and mind occupied, may give him a similar feeling skating gave him.” Natasha replied smoothly, giving him a cheeky grin that would look terrifying to anyone else.

Clint didn’t have time to reply as Y/n came stumbling down the stairs, giving his aunt and father a shy smile.

“I’m ready.” He offered quietly, following behind the two adults as they headed outside.

Clint and Natasha went easy on him his first day, making him do regular exercises and warm ups before showing him easy moves for hand to hand combat, which he surprisingly caught onto easily.

By the time they were finished, Y/n was grinning like an idiot, looking up at the two adults with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Can we do this every day?” He questioned, shifting from foot to foot. Clint looked at Natasha before back to his son.

“Of course, kiddo, tomorrow we start in the morning, I want to see you out here at 7.” Y/n didn’t complain, just happily hugged the two adults before heading to his room to change.

Natasha smirked and glanced over to Clint, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, you were right. Fuck off don’t look at me like that.” He whined, shoving his friend playfully as her smirk widened.

It wasn’t skating, but it was an alternative until Y/n could get back into the rink, and he seemed happy. That was all that mattered to Clint.

#avengers #marvel #mcu #Clint barton #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers x male reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #mcu x male reader #mcu x reader #Clint Barton x reader #Clint Barton x male reader

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twoidiotwriters1 · 2 years ago

Text

Copycat: Agent Zero —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: Matt I’m begging you KISS HER ALREADY -Danny

Words: 2,017

Phase Four Masterlist

Previous chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Iris’ -by Goo Goo Dolls

xx: Desperate Times

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

"Hey, that's Copycat!"

"I thought she was an Avenger!"

"She should get arrested!"

A sudden moment of brilliance came to her, she knew the exact location of Peter's house! Pietro had lived there for the majority of two years! She stopped running and teleported right outside his apartment.

MJ almost crashed into her, she pulled her into the home and slammed the door shut behind Copy, not even a bit surprised to see her there. Happy, May, and Peter were all agitated.

"The windows! The windows!" MJ urged her.

May was arguing with Peter, who for some reason was half naked, while Happy was walking around looking a little lost. "Cat," he blinked once he noticed her presence. "What are you doing here? Why are you wearing your suit?"

Peter stared at her with wide eyes and wildly gesticulated to keep her mouth shut.

"What's that sound?" Happy asked.

She could hear the crowd gathering outside, screaming at them to get out. Cat and Peter shared a quick look before closing the windows and curtains, there was incessant knocking at the door but they decided to ignore it for the time being.

The adults' phones began to ring, a helicopter was now at the scene, and Cat clumsily teleported to turn off the tv, but it was too late, Happy and May had seen it. Peter walked up to the window defeatedly and lifted the curtain. Everyone approached to look outside except for Copycat.

Peter stared at all of them with a pleading look in his eyes. "I mean, maybe it's not such a big deal..."

"Yeah, alright," Cat's voice sounded heavily sarcastic. "Everyone knew who Iron Man was and Tony's life was just perfect!"

"Well, actually, he didn't have such a bad time!" Peter argued.

"He was rich!" She exclaimed. "Do you happen to have three million dollars to get us out of this?!"

"Stop talking!" MJ was just as anxious.

"Okay, everyone let's sit down and think!" May closed the curtain and guided the whole group back to the living room. "Everyone knows, but why are they angry?

"They think we killed Mysterio," she explained.

"What! Why?"

"They made it look like Cat and I planned the whole thing."

"But you didn't kill him!"

Cat and Peter shared a look. "I mean... I might've shot him one time too many."

"But it was self-defense, right?"

Her voice was sarcastic again. "Yeah, sure! Yeah, it was... defense for sure..."

"That's not the point!" Peter distracted them from the horrible fact. "What are we going to do? You quit S.H.I.E.L.D so they're not gonna help us—"

"They should! I was working for them when this whole thing happened!"

"Yeah, but they didn't tell you to kill Beck, right?" MJ said. "They can't lie and say they asked you to, people think he was a good dude, they won't buy it."

Cat couldn't believe how unfair this was. She'd fought in Sokovia! She was there when Vision was created, and when the accords had been signed, but Beck's name was on S.H.I.E.L.D's records, and she as far as the world knew, she'd never existed until now.

The organization had Mysterio as an out-of-this-world martyr, Agent Zero's file, on the other hand, talked about her vigilante life and her violent methods to keep the city clean and under control. She'd been looking for items stolen from the ruins of the compound. Those items could've easily been Stark drones.

"I have to hide..."

"No no no, don't say that, we can still fix this!"

"Happy, I killed Beck and he got it on camera!" She gasped, abruptly realizing the second, perhaps worst mistake she'd committed. "And you're involved!"

Happy fell back on his seat and stared ahead, speechless.

"Ned— we gotta check on him—"

"I'll do it," MJ stood quickly.

"No," Peter and Cat said.

"I'm innocent until proven guilty," MJ stated. "Besides I can't stay here, my dad must be going crazy right now."

"This is great. My first week out and..." Cat stopped midsentence, her brain was working fast that day. "That's it!"

"What?"

"They're looking for me," she placed one hand on her chest. "But they're not looking for all of the me's that I can be."

Peter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I think I'll kill two birds with one stone, and finish my original mission," she looked at him with a serious expression. "But you can't get involved in this."

Instead of going back to her apartment, she went to Matthew's place.

He was in his living room going through some papers. At the sound of her teleporting, he stood, dropping everything. He searched around a little disoriented, but once he recognized her, he spoke.

"Since when can you do that?"

"I forgot you didn't know," she walked up to him and picked up the fallen paperwork. "Kurt can teleport and I copy him when I don't want to be followed..."

"I heard the news this morning," Matthew replied. "How are you?"

"I... I'm sorry," she said quietly, avoiding his face. "I didn't know where else to go."

The man stayed in place. "Did you really kill that man?"

A knot formed on her chest, Cat tried to think of a way to not sound crazy, but all that came out of her mouth was an apology. "I was too rash. I'm sorry."

Matthew stood to his full height, he wasn't wearing his glasses so it was easy to read his face. Instead of replying, he walked to the kitchen and opened his fridge.

"I... I wasn't thinking—"

"I doubt that."

"If you would've heard the way Peter spoke to me— he thought I didn't care, that I would turn my back on him..." Matthew was hidden behind the fridge's door, and this helped her speak honestly and not to stumble over her words. "Peter got run by a train because of Beck! I found him half-dead— Peter's just a kid, Matthew! I couldn't stand there and watch!"

Defeated, Cat fell on the couch heavily, hiding her face behind both hands. She wasn't crying, but the weight of her mistake was starting to overwhelm her, never before she'd been haunted in this way. Killing Mysterio had caused a snowball effect, and she'd ruined Spider-man's reputation and her own forever. Kurt was going to be so disappointed.

"Then he targeted my old friends... and he mentioned Tony... he tried to shoot Peter in the head..."

Matthew showed up next to her holding a pack of beers and offering a single bottle to her. Without understanding, Cat silently accepted the drink and opened it, he put the rest on the coffee table and sat beside to her.

"You were saying Beck tried to shoot the kid on the head," he said, inviting her to continue.

"Yes," she replied, giving him a confused look. "Peter's abilities saved him. He stopped the attack before Quentin could shoot."

"But that wasn't enough for you."

Cat lowered her gaze. "No. I wanted to make sure he would never hurt Peter again."

"So you shot him."

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Two."

"Was he still holding the gun when you shot him?"

"No."

"Was he still standing?"

"Yes."

"Was he still in possession of the A.I?"

"Yes."

He grabbed a beer and opened it. "We can work with that."

Cat's gaze went back to him. "What?"

"He had the A.I. when you shot him. He was able to control the drones, right?"

She felt a bit of hope nestling in the middle of her stomach. "Yeah."

"Alright. So these are the facts," he leaned forward. "Spider-man's underage, all you can see in the video are two pairs of feet, according to Foggy, and when the camera moves up you can only see Copycat, cause Parker's standing next to Beck. Your face is covered, no one can't tell who she is, cause Quentin didn't have your real name."

"Right, 'cause I don't have one."

"But Copycat's the face of the young Avengers— and here's the important part— they put the word young at the front."

Cat tilted her head. "Where are you going with this?"

"For all we know, that day two minors fought for their lives and up until the last minute, Beck had the A.I. with him."

"Yeah but the video's edited so it looks like Peter had the glasses first—"

"Yeah, but when Peter has the glasses, Quentin's on the floor, remember? The camera's pointing at your feet and he's bleeding. How come one second he's bleeding out and at the other, he's wearing the glasses and on both feet? The fact remains that it was two underage heroes with one gun against a grown man with thousands of armed drones surrounding the bridge where you two were."

Cat didn't know if they could make the whole world change their minds, but Matthew's argument sounded pretty damn convincing, so much that for a moment she truly believed she'd acted in self-defense.

"Do you think Peter's going to get arrested?"

The man nodded briefly. "Sorry, Cat. It's plausible."

"Do you think you'd be able to defend him?"

He smiled a little. "What about you?"

"I don't need help."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Is S.H.I.E.L.D going to provide you with a lawyer?"

Cat scoffed. "I'm on my own."

"Then what's your plan?"

"I'll be C.C. Stark, or Katrina Maxwell, at least until things cool down. Once everyone forgets about Copy, I'll go back to being a quiet hero. You know, no flashy activities during daylight, and if I have no choice, I guess I'll go stealth."

"I don't think they'll let you go that easily. The government will go after you for the rest of your life even if you do the right thing."

"I'm not interested in being perceived in any particular way by the rest of the world... I just wanted to see you." Cat came to the conclusion that it was best to be sincere. "Now that I did I feel better, even if I shouldn't."

Matthew frowned. "You came to me because you wanted my opinion? I thought you just wanted to hide."

"I didn't want your opinion," she confessed. "I wanted to explain myself."

"I just said you didn't do anything wrong..."

"Yeah, and I honestly think I'll be crying about that later tonight, but I thought... I don't know... I don't want you to hate me."

"I'd be a hypocrite if I turned my back on you now. I'm not a saint, Cat."

"But you've never killed anyone..."

"You know what makes you better than me?" He reached for one of her hands and rubbed it gently. "You regret your actions. You wanted to protect your friends, I only do things to prove that I'm better than the bad guys."

Cat placed her beer on the coffee table, her body facing away from him, but she held his hand tighter. "You contradict yourself, Matthew. You have a heart, you're just really unhappy... like me."

He chuckled. "That's good?"

She rubbed her temple with her free hand. "No, I'm just saying I'm... haunted... by so many ghosts. I didn't want to add your face to the list, especially when you're the only one that gets this part of me, the one that's always... angry."

Matthew's hand left hers, he cupped her face to get her attention. "I'm not mad at you."

She melted on his palm. "Do you wanna know a secret?" He hummed. "I don't care if I live or die, and it'd be easier if everyone felt the same way." Cat looked at him, he was getting closer. "But I saved Peter instead of leaving him, and I came here tonight to make sure you knew the truth because I'm a liar, I want you to care about me."

Matthew leaned forward, his nose brushed hers. "Can I tell you a secret?" She nodded, knowing he could tell. "You make my world feel quieter, Cat. I care about you... and I need you."

Billy welcomed her with open arms and a hungry gaze. "How was your trip, my love?"

"Didn't you see the news? Spider-man ruined it. No investors want to work with me. I live in the same city as that twat— they think they're putting their earnings at risk!"

"A teenager calling himself an Avenger," he sneered. "Like we needed more reasons to detest them."

She wrapped her arms around Billy and gave him her best puppy eyes. "I think I have a way to use this in our favor... but I'll need your help."

Billy smirked. "Do tell."

Cat looked around with disgust. "Let's go to your office. I want to keep this between us."

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #copycat fic

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 4 years ago

Text

A gentlecat.

Summary: A black cat comforts you when you need it the most. Your new friend is quite peculiar for an animal. It's almost like they could understand you.

Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (it's not actually a "pairing", you can see it as a friendship, or something platonic).

Word count: 2K.

Warnings: anxiety, sadness.

Disclaimer: picture not mine.

You used to frequent the roof of the compound everytime you were melancholic.

Or everytime you had too many feelings to process and needed time alone. Or anytime you felt too empty and needed to refill on sentiments and life by staring at the moon and remembering how much it means to exist in this world. Or too overwhelmed, and needed to be reminded of how little it all matters, how few are the things that are actually important.

No matter the motive, the roof and the moon were always there with you.

The wind blew on your face, almost like a whisper, almost like a caress. The same wind that blew on a crying child, or a couple of teenagers kissing for the first time, or an old man remembering with gratitude the love of his life. Or a lost young who, just like you, was looking at the moon searching for a meaning. An answer. Why all of this? Why to you? Why to everyone and why everything at the same time?

You inhaled a deep breath as you laid your back against the floor of the terrace, and the only thing you got to see were the few starts pollution would let you, and the gigantic moon smiling at you.

A noise startled you, and you were sitting back up again in no time. Being an avenger made you a little more paranoid than you expected. But you didn't say anything. You looked around nervously and waited for the sound to reappear. And it did.

"Who's there?".

No answer. You heart was pounding, but you didn't let your voice break. A hand flew right to the knife in your thigh, waiting for the danger to appear.

The noise came out of the shadows. A black cat approached you precatiously, almost as if they knew you were a threat. You put your guard down and finally sighed.

"God, little thing, you scared me", you whispered as you put a hand near them to let them smell you and be familiar with you. The cat didn't do so, instead, they sat by your side and rested their head on your hand. "Well, you certainly trust easier than me".

The cat meowed answering you, and you felt a connection to them. You loved animals, but this one was different. It was almost like they could understand your words. You moved your thumb slowly, petting their head. The cat let you, staring at you with intensity. Blueish green eyes that you felt like you knew from somewhere else.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, and you felt stupid. What life choices had lead you to the point of talking to a black cat on a roof, while everyone else was partying? The cat meowed back again. You chuckled. "So you understand what I say? I'll keep talking, then. Just don't think I'm too crazy". The cat purrowed in your hand, and you took it as a yes.

"I just... I don't like these parties, you know? I don't feel well when there's too many people around me, and all the noise... you'd understand, I think cats are sort of like that, right?". The cat meowed again. You smiled. "I appreciate being here, I really do. But the whole Avengers show we should put up... I don't buy it. We know damn well we're not what we pretend to be". You ranted, and realized immediately after you should've been looking around first. If anyone actually heard you, you'd be in big trouble. You went back to a whisper "but that's our little secret".

The cat slowly walked nearer you and looked at you before sitting in your lap, as to look for approval. You nodded and caressed the fur as they did so.

"Do you have a name?" You asked, looking for a collar. "Weird. A cat so well taken care of like you should have an owner". The cat hissed and you laughed "alright, not an owner. You don't like the expression, I get it. A human partner, maybe?". The cat stared at you again. You wished they could talk, but it was probably better off like that. Maybe you liked animals because they couldn't talk.

"So you're from the streets?".

The cat looked inside the compound and then looked back at you again. You interpreted as if they was asking you why wouldn't you go back. "I can't go in there, I got too anxious and said I was sick". You swear you saw the cat roll their eyes.

"Why are you here?". And you immediately laughed "oh, God. I'm asking questions to a cat. What am I waiting for? An answer? You probably just want food. Wait here, I'm gonna get you some. I'll steal some of Bucky's. He has a cat, too".

You sneaked through the party and nobody noticed you passed by. Once you were back, the cat wasn't there anymore. You left the food in a cup of tea on the floor, just in case they came back, and went back to the compound.

The next time you were on the roof, you weren't running away from any party. It was that same week that you felt increasingly anxious out of nowhere, in the middle of a dinner. After a while you went back to bed and you overheard the asgardian brothers discuss something in a low voice outside your room. Thor wanted to walk in and make sure you were fine; his brother told him he knew you needed space, so you were better off left alone. You wondered how he knew that, and then realized he was like that too.

You basically never spoke to him, but you always shared your silences. Everyone in the Stark Tower was so... enthusiastic. Outgoing. You and Loki enjoyed the silence of the nights over a good book and a warm drink. You barely spoke to each other. You were various meters away, in different parts of the common room (that one with the big couches and old books Mr. Stark set up for the introverts of the group, ahem, you two and ocassionally little Peter Parker). But you were there, always sharing that loneliness you craved in such crazy times.

After a while, you crawled out of bed and rested your arms in the window. You realized there was someone waiting for you in there.

"Hello, friend".

The cat purrowed in your hand. They had a protein bar in their mouth, as to give it to you. You frowned in confusion.

"You know, whatever you are, you don't pretend to be a cat very well". The cat opened their eyes widely, and you laughed. "But thank you. I don't know how you knew I didn't have dinner, but I appreciate this very much".

You opened your window so that they could come in, but they didn't. They looked inside, but stayed in there, as to care for your privacy. "It's fine, you can come in". The cat stayed out, anyways. "I think I'm gonna do some reading. If you care to join me, you're invited".

You and the black cat stayed up all night on the balcony of your room. You read in silence and the cat rested on your lap, purring and staring at you with those big, intense eyes. The night wasn't cold, but refreshing. Windy, before the big rainstorm that would have place next day. You loved that weather.

It wasn't the only occasion you stayed all night with the company of the black cat. Once they already felt comfortable enough to get in your room, you'd both lay in bed, and the cat would curl around your neck, using your shoulders as a mattress.

One dark and rainy afternoon you were on the roof, and the cat was with you, laying on the floor, watching the stars and the moon, just like you. You overheard some of the Avengers talking about you. Clint's voice commenting on how you basically adopted a stray, and Tony laughing. Thor corrected them you befriended a cat, and you chuckled at the offense he took from the word "adopted".

"Don't worry, I befriended you. You seem to be good by yourself", you clarified. The cat meowed.

It got dark and you stayed in the floor until the last light on the compound was turned off. The cat seemed to be curious as why you stayed for so long.

"I want to go to the common room, I haven't been there in a few weeks", you commented. "Best time of the day is when almost everyone's asleep".

At some point of the night you got up and walked through the compound to get to the kitchen. The cat followed your steps, and you swore they knew the way.

You poured some warm milk in a cup for the cat and they waited for you to have your coffee in hand to start sipping. You both sat on the couch of the common room.

"Such a polite gentle...cat", you whispered. "You know, it's so weird this is empty right now. At this time there's someone else reading here". The cat looked at you and you didn't understand what they meant. "I think he would like you. You have sort of the same energy, maybe that's why I even befriended you. Someday, if you let me, I'll introduce you two". The cat nodded weirdly.

You spilled some coffee on your shirt and cursed to yourself. The cat went to the counter and grabbed a napkin for you. At that point, they didn't even pretend to act like a cat at all.

"Ah, thank you". As you cleaned yourself, the cat looked at the book you were reading. It was in old norse. The cat looked at you with interrogative eyes. "Ah, that's... stupid, actually. I'm a little embarrassed I'm even doing that". The cat sat infront of you, and you felt like it was a way to ask you for more. You felt free to elaborate.

"This man... well, not a man. There's someone in this compound I never speak to, yet I still feel very connected to, you know? And everytime we're reading together, he reads these very dusty and heavy books in old norse. I didn't know that language, of course. But I was always curious to see what he read. You know, he can spend all night up reading those pages; he's so concentrated he doesn't notice his expressions. But they're great. He smiles, and frowns, and sighs. And I don't think he's aware of that, but I find it so beautiful", you explained. The cat kept looking at you with their eyes wide open. You sighed and continued. "Anyways. I just... I wanted to see a bit more of him. I'm too... shy, I guess? To actually talk to him. In fact, I feel a little intimidated, he's tall, and has some darkness in his eyes, and... well, he's a God. But I'd... I don't know. I learnt old norse and I started reading these books. And I feel like I understand him a little more. Even a little".

The cat looked down a bit and made themself a ball of fur in your lap. You kept reading. They rested their head in your arm and stared at the book as you read, as if they were reading it too.

When you woke up, you were in that same couch. The cat was nowhere to be found. You had a blanket over you, the book was closed over the coffee table, and your shoes were off. You felt weirdly safe. Anonymously taken care of.

You heard noises in the room next door -the kitchen-, and you peeped in. The God of Mischief was in there, making two cups of coffee. He turned around as he heard you walk in, and handed you one cup.

"Góðan morgin", he said. It meant good morning. You swear you saw a little smile forming in the corners of his mouth.

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fear-before-valor · 3 years ago

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AU Ficlet: Jim, who was raised by the Order from the age of five, attends Arcadia Oaks High, for his first day of human high school. Weird things happen in Arcadia, though, and his appearance seems to be one such weird thing to the residents in this small, strange town...

Aka: How an Order-raised Jim met Toby and Claire

Words: 2939 II Warnings: none II ok to rb --

Jim dropped his backpack at the empty desk next to one Tobias Domzalski’s, one of the only people at school who’d been properly friendly to him so far. It was Jim’s first day of mortal high school, and he’d been vetted mercilessly by every student group but Tobias’s, though he was beginning to suspect that said group consisted of only Tobias.

Of course, Jim had been screening his peers right back, but it was still exhausting. He thought he’d been ready after the Order’s… extensive lessons on humanity, and how to fit in with the mortals like himself, but already, everything he’d done felt like it must have been a social faux pas of some kind.

Act quiet around the quiet kids? Then no one speaks, until the silence grows so long that it’s awkward, and starting up a conversation makes it feel painfully forced. So, okay, maybe find some louder kids and try to blend in with them. Except, they start to grow obnoxious, and at some point, the headache simply stops being worth it.

Jim wasn’t even going to dare try and bond with the overly studious; he wasn’t here to vie for valedictorian, nor was he all that interested in making grades that separated him from the pack. Not to mention, he much preferred whatever lessons the Order could teach him anyway. They were very practical things, going over philosophy, strategy, combat, computations. He was already conversational in Bellroc and Skrael’s original languages, and though he knew Spanish would be equally valuable, the Spanish teacher seemed… intense, in a way that Bellroc and Skrael, who could likewise be rigorous sometimes, were not.

In fact, the only class he was indeed eager to take was history—and, okay, perhaps physical education didn’t sound horrendous, so long as he was careful about holding back in certain areas—because while he could learn plenty of history from his very ancient guardians, to hear of human history from the mouths of humans, like himself… it sounded unique, in a way that he hoped was amenable, at the very least, if not genuinely interesting or entertaining.

As he sat down in the chair beside Tobias, the boy seemed to light up, beaming over at Jim, a reaction that he hadn’t expected from his peer. He’d thought he’d rather botched his first conversation with Tobias in homeroom that morning, as he hadn’t known anything about anything that Tobias had referenced (what on earth was Gun Robot?). But, evidently, he must have done something well—or at least, acceptably— because Tobias was leaning over and excitedly holding out his hand to show Jim something which clattered in his palm as he moved. Politely, Jim glanced over to see what it was, and—oh.

Oh no.

That was definitely the remains of a troll.

Tobias was holding out small, grey pebbles for him to see, on which Jim could just make out hints of tattoos that had been etched into the troll while they were alive.

Holding back his mild panic, he gave a tight smile and a nod, as his classmate diagnosed them incorrectly as gneiss—which, admittedly, Jim thought wasn’t a bad guess, really. It’s not like the other boy had any reason to think that the rocks he was holding were anything but an average metamorphic stone.

Tobias was looking to Jim for a response, though, so he opened his mouth to speak, breathing in—

—magic.

Jim froze once more. The distinct tingle of magic had just washed over his senses, keen and undeniable, unlike anything else he’d felt that day.

It was raw, underdeveloped, not yet bolstered by the right teacher, but it was there, and it spoke in tones of purple, pulsing with potential.

Jim was no wizard himself, much preferring combat to the arcane arts, having not a strong penchant for it or its intricacies and delicate, temperamental nature, but even still, he’d been raised with the three most powerful magic-users in the known world. They’d taught him from youth how to recognize when magic was present, how to glean as many clues as he possibly could about it, or who might have cast it, might be walking in it, based on its style and scent, its intensity, or its intentionality. He wasn’t quite the best at sensing the finer details, nor could he find it when it was masked, but when it was open, unhidden, he could feel it like a mild electric shock that one might get when touching a door handle in dry weather; he could sense it like the faint scent of ozone during a storm, or like a prickle on the hairs on the back of his neck, when lightning was about to strike.

What’s going on? He thought, as he turned his head in the direction of the epicenter of the magic. First, there’s troll remains in the hands of a classmate with the same schedule as him, and then there’s—the girl, there. The girl with the blue streak in her hair.

The witch.

She’d caught him staring, as she set her books down on a desk in the front row, a couple columns over from his. Beside her plopped down two more girls—her friends, Jim noted, as they chattered familiarly, cheerfully.

The girl gave him an awkward smile, then, and Jim realized that he must have been staring for a few moments too long, so he rapidly flicked his eyes back to the surface of his own desk, trying not to think about the flush he could feel splash across the back of his neck, or the tips of his ears.

Tobias did not grant him such grace.

“Ooh,” he grinned, smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “That’s Claire Nuñez. President of the drama club, valedictorian candidate, great actress. She’s tied with Seamus Johnson and Shannon Longhannon for top of the class right now, I heard. She’s wicked smart, and—Jim?” Tobias huffed, “Are you paying attention to me?”

Jim’s eyes darted back to his new friend, from where they’d been briefly studying Claire Nuñez’s back, trying to get a more in-depth read on her arcana. He nodded distractedly. “Yeah, yeah, smart, a president; I heard you.”

Tobias sighed, shaking his head. “Jim.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was listening.

“She’s out of your league.” He deadpanned. “She’s super popular, and you’re, no offense, definitely not.”

Jim shot Tobias a confused look, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

The boy stared openly at Jim. “What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? Do you really not— Oh my god.”

Jim blinked. “What?”

Tobias shook his head. “Jim, you’ve kinda… scared a lot of the people in our class today. They don’t know what to think about you. You’re like a giant question mark! No one even knows where you came from—”

“Ohio.” Jim recited his cover story, which Skrael had helped him pick the night previous. They’d chosen a city that started with a c… right. “Columbus, Ohio.”

Tobias shot him a deadpan look. “Okay, fine, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio. Why’d you suddenly move to Arcadia, then? Why not L.A.? Why not Burbank?”

Jim frowned. “Do you interrogate every newcomer like this? My parents got a good job opportunity here.” He held up one hand, “And before you ask—real estate.”

“Oh yeah? How come I haven’t seen them put up ads, then?” Tobias crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, dude; I think you’re cool, but you freak a lot of people out with that brooding, silent thing you do.”

Jim snorted. “I do what?”

“Y’know—”

“No, I don’t know—”

“You act, like, all silent and mysterious when people try to talk to you.” Tobias shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, but some people don’t seem as ready to brush it off as me. I’m only telling you so that you can make more friends here.”

“Well, I have you, don’t I?” Jim’s head canted.

Tobias blinked, floundering at that. “Well—y…yeah, I guess so, but—”

“I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

It was Tobias’s turn to go a bit pink, shaking his head in bewilderment. “If you want, yeah, but—”

“Then there we go. I have a friend.” Jim smiled.

Tobias tried to protest, “But—” only to find himself cut off as Mr. Strickler strode into the classroom at that moment, placing a leather briefcase on his desk with a decisive thump. Cacophonous voices incrementally petered out, as attentive heads turned to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Strickler had pulled out a stack of syllabi, handing them to the student nearest the door, with the instructions to “take one and pass them,” spoken precisely to the class.

Tobias looked like he wanted to say something when Strickler turned his back to write his name on the chalkboard, but Jim shushed him from the corner of his mouth, opening a fresh, blank notebook as he did so. This was the only class he’d bothered to buy a separate notebook for, and, to be frank, was the only class he’d even intended to take notes in at all.

Tobias looked chagrined, but not angry, as he rolled his eyes and went to fetch a pencil from his own bag. Might as well have something to do with his idle hands for the next hour.

—

As his first day was winding to close, Jim had to admit, having a friend at school did end up making it a little easier.

The rest of his time there had passed largely unremarkably, since a rather thrilling start to the history curriculum. Jim’s hand had shot up just as much as the apparent reigning top of the sophomore class, one Miss Claire Nuñez’s, had— a fact which had, according to Tobias, already begun to percolate across campus.

The lesson had only briefly covered the basics of ancient Rome, going over a bit of easy, more widely known trivia, to see what the class already knew about their oncoming first unit, but, nonetheless, Jim had been eager to jump in, to talk almost directly to Mr. Strickler, going back and forth in the form of a discussion. He’d spoken quietly, quickly, and he’d felt the eyes of his peers glued to his desk, but had ignored the sensation altogether, in favor of listening to what his teacher had to say about aqueducts, instead.

When the hour had finally come to an end, in fact, he’d packed up slowly, most of his classmates abandoning the room as quickly as they could—the lunch period was about to begin—though Tobias was kind enough to wait for him. As such, Tobias was the only other person present to hear Mr. Strickler stop Jim after class, paying a brief compliment to his performance that day, and accompanying his words with a poster for the history club. Jim didn’t think his furtive smile had gone entirely missed by the teacher, but as they’d exited into the now mostly empty hallway, he forgot to worry about it further, as Tobias wasted no time in asking him how the heck his new friend knew so much about history already?

Jim had shrugged it off, saying that it was his favorite subject; and besides, didn’t Tobias— “Seriously, dude, it’s Toby, by the way”— know more about geology than anyone else in their class? The compliment had made Tobias—Toby— preen, and he’d promptly dropped the topic, instead launching into an enthusiastic lecture meant to coach Jim through the cafeteria process. Jim, who had tried to jump in to say that he’d heard this at orientation the week prior, but Toby had shot him an appalled look at that, swiftly informing him that orientation did nothing to help the social side of things. Sure, he knew the motions, but did he know how to do them without standing out in the crowd? Absolutely not—in fact, the thought was almost laughable, according to Toby.

So, Jim had grinned, followed Toby’s lead, and had just barely survived the ever-important lunch line waltz.

The rest of the day had passed mostly the same way, in the end. Toby, having warmed up to Jim, took him through the whole rest of the day, guiding him through the intricacies of Arcadia Oaks High, and by the time the final bell was ringing, Jim almost felt like a normal student. Some of his peers had even started waving to him in the hallways; he’d broken the ice, after all.

Well. He’d thought so, until Toby had said goodbye, peddling away on his bike toward home, leaving Jim alone in the courtyard by the bustling lockers, surrounded by students eager to either go home, as Toby had, or to dive into after-school clubs and sports.

Jim opted to take his time, though, to enjoy the Southern California sun, as he strolled casually across the campus, toward the front of the school grounds.

As he rounded the corner, though, intending to head toward the Arcadia Oaks sign, where he’d stop and shoot off a text to the Order that his first day had gone well, and that he’d be home soon, he felt a tap on his shoulder, instead, and heard a throat being cleared behind him.

He knew who it was before he even turned to face her; her magic had given her away as soon as she’d reached a hand for him.

Despite this, Jim whirled as if she’d caught him by surprise, schooling his features into something startled but friendly, relaxing his shoulders as a polite smile crossed his face, upon seeing her. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—” he rethought his words, shaking his head. “Never mind. …It’s, ‘Claire,’ right?”

She nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah! And you’re ‘Jim Lake’, hm?”

Something about the way she asked that question sent up a warning bell in the back of Jim’s mind, but he tried not to look unsettled; it was probably just nerves.

“Yup; just Jim is fine, though.” He added with a casual laugh.

Claire tilted her head, continuing. “So, you’re quite the history buff, huh?”

Jim’s hands dropped to his pockets, as he glanced at his shoes, then back up to her. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess?” She teased. “You were on fire in class today.” She lifted her chin, to look at him head on. “Do I need to worry about you unseating me, Jim Lake from Columbus, Ohio?”

Jim snorted, shaking his head. “No, no; it’s not like that. History’s just a hobby.”

“Pretty intense hobby, if you know half as much as you seem like you do.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim grinned. “Intense? Like being the president of drama club, the vice president of debate, and the supposed shoe-in for the lead in the play this fall?” he recited, much to Claire’s surprise, who shot him an impressed look.

“Huh. You sure do pay attention, don’t you?”

He glanced around, making it a leisurely movement, concealing the way he was searching for anyone who could overhear, before his eyes met hers again, as he said, “Only to certain people.”

Claire blinked, cheeks reddening, mistaking his meaning. “Oh, yeah? What kinds of people?”

Jim rolled the dice. “Well, people who seem nice, or kind, who I could make friends with. People who do things I wanna do, too, so I can have an ‘in’. Like clubs, and things.” he clarified.

“And, uh…” his voice grew hushed, “Magic-users in the human world.”

Claire’s face fell. “What was that last one?” Her nose scrunched with the skeptical look that overtook her features.

Jim’s eyes darted to look for an exit, realizing coldly—fearfully— that he had grossly miscalculated.

“Uh…” Stupid. He chided himself. Think of a lie before you go backing yourself into a corner. Skrael would be disappointed in him if he were here.

“Did you just say ‘the human world’ like you… aren’t human?” She stared at him suspiciously.

Jim blinked. “What? No. I’m human. Of course I’m human.” He gave a strained laugh. “What else would I be?”

“…Someone who thinks they aren’t?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“It was a rhetor- well. I mean, I guess that’s true. But I’m not!” He smiled weakly, and then froze for a split-second, rapidly adding, “Someone who thinks they aren’t human! I know I’m human!”

Claire’s eyes shot to the street, where, to her poorly hidden relief, her dad had just pulled up to the curb, there to pick her up. “…Right. Well, Jim Lake from Cleveland, Ohio, my dad’s here, so I need to go, but this has been… interesting.”

Jim nodded rapidly, shooting her one more smile— a sheepish, apologetic one— as he gave her a shy wave. “…Yeah.”

Claire hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder, giving him a half-hearted wave back. “…Bye, Jim.”

“Bye, Claire.”

As she turned to leave, Jim frowned to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but something felt wrong. He supposed it could have been the awkward manner in which he’d acted, but in a flash, he decided that wanted to see her again, just in case that wasn’t it. He couldn’t be too careful.

So, before he missed his chance, he called after her retreating back, “See you around?”

Claire stopped, hand poised on the handle of the passenger side door, freezing there for a heart-pounding pause.

Then, she shot him a look over her shoulder, one of interest, meeting his eyes deliberately. Jim got the sense that he should heed it carefully.

“Yeah. See you around, Jim.”

#(why yes I did mean to have claire say 'cleveland' the second time)#hopefully the next fic in this is how jim becomes the trollhunter but!! for now I hope y'all like this piece!#i may make an au introduction post as well but brain tired from editing so that'll come soon!#trollhunters au #trollhunters fic #trollhunters fanfic #jim lake jr #the arcane order #toa #toa fic #toa au #ok to rb

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gay-ghosts-committing-crimes · 3 years ago

Text

But the Way That You Act Isn’t Good for Your Health

AO3 link here

Summary: Once upon a time, Alex's parents were cool. They cared deeply about him and his friends. Once upon a time, Alex hadn’t come out yet. OR Five times Alex’s parents were there for him and his friends, and the one time they weren’t.

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing, mention of conversion therapy

Words: 3,899

taglist, just ask to be added or removed: @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @iamstealingyourgenderaswespeak @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant-blog-blog @real-smooth @juline-dizznee @it-tastes-like-lizard

Alex's stomach twisted and his fingers twisted into the hem of his shirt, tugging and pulling at it like it was a lifeline. The yelling outside continued. Beside him Luke patted his arm, his nine year-old face screwed up in concern for his friend. On his other side sat Reggie, leaning close and fidgeting with Alex's free hand. He was solemn too, but in a different way than Luke, closer to Alex's anxious tap-dancing heart.

Alex's chin jerked up as his dad opened the driver's seat door and stepped in, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Reggie's hand.

"What's going on?" He asked, when his mom finally got in as well. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the boys; The day was warm and the beach was open, and the three nine year-old boys were tired of being cooped up inside. He stopped twisting at his shirt and his fingers moved to tapping at his leg when his parents shared a look.

Reggie pressed closer to his side, and Luke did his best to put his arm around them both.

"I've got you," He said gravely, his soft voice offset by the slight whistle caused by the gap left behind where a top tooth had once lived.

Alex's parents finished their silent conversation and Mary, Alex's mom, turned to face them.

"Sometimes people get angry and don't act well, but that doesn't mean it's right, okay? That man out there is one of those people right now, so you boys and I are going to stay in the car for a little bit while Mr. Mercer gets out and makes sure the man doesn't hurt that young lady, that sound good?"

Alex nodded and his breathing evened a little bit. The yelling was scary, but he knew his dad could handle it, his dad was the strongest man in the whole world.

Reaching across the console, Mr. Mercer gave Mrs. Mercer's hand a light squeeze.

"I'll be alright, Mary." Alex's mom gave a soft smile and nodded, but the crinkle in her brow stayed in its place.

"I know Paul, I love you." A quick kiss was pressed to her knuckles and then he was out of the car, the door closed behind him.

The three boys waited with bated breath as the shouting paused, started up again and then stopped abruptly. There was a low discussion, and even through the car Alex could tell the words were angry. He took Reggie's small hands in his own -he knew how his friend got when people yelled- and rubbed it with his thumb. Reggie gave him an appreciative smile, and Alex smiled back, glad that the action had helped calm them both down. A man rushed past the front of the car, pausing a moment to aim a kick at it before running off, swearing profusely. The three boys jolted and Mary's hand flew to her mouth with a gasp, but he didn't come back and they relaxed a fraction.

After another minute, Mr. Mercer returned to the car, slipping into the driver's seat silently and sitting there for a long moment. Finally he moved, putting the car in reverse and getting ready to pull out, then stopped abruptly. He turned to the backseat, studying the boys' faces.

"Boys?"

"Yes, Mr. Mercer?" they responded in unison.

"Always respect women. Treat them decent and keep them safe, okay? And the same goes for you, if someone isn't treating you right, get out of there, you deserve to be safe." The boys shared wide-eyed glances as Mr. Mercer started pulling out again, but they nodded anyway.

It took a long time for the boys to start talking again, but eventually the silence was broken by Luke, who elbowed Alex in the ribs.

"I think your dad is a superhero, 'Lex."

Alex thought of the girl his dad had protected, her face shiny with tears when he had managed to twist around in his seat to look, shiny but relieved, and he agreed. His dad was a superhero.

"Hey 'Lex? Is it... Is it okay if I come over to your house for a sleepover? Bobby can't and Luke-" Alex was already asking his mom before Reggie even finished his stumbling words, his voice tinny through the Mercer family's Nokia, knowing after a few years of friendship that his voice only wobbled on days where it was too much for him to be alone.

(Alone with two people. Two people who never stopped fighting for long except to criticize the kid that did everything to make them happy. Everything except be enough, apparently. Alex sometimes wished it was okay to want people to go to hell, but Reggie didn't want that, and his mom said that was bad... Still, Alex was Not a Fan of the Peters’ parents.)

And if Bobby wasn't available...

Bobby had shown up about a year prior, and Reggie had immediately decided that he was going to be a part of their friend-group. To Bobby's credit, he seemed to be fond of Reggie, and that was a quick in to the group in Luke and Alex's book. After a while, Bobby grew to be the one Reggie went to when he needed someone, but couldn't handle being around everybody. He'd go over to Bobby's and all of the other boy's gruffness would melt at the sight of him, and Bobby would make it okay.

Bobby was Reggie’s go-to, but Reggie was coming to him, so Alex needed to be there for Reggie.

"Mom?" He waited patiently as she finished putting the casserole she had been preparing in the oven, her blonde hair shimmering and haloed in the evening light coming in through the kitchen windows, and he was reminded of the art of Mary, Jesus’ mother, and how a golden halo had adorned her head too. His mom brushed her hands off and peeked in the oven one last time before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turning to face him, eyes smiling.

“What’s up, bug?”

“Can Reggie come over?” And then her eyes were softening even more, and for a moment Alex wondered if Mary was as kind as his mom. His mom who always made sure to give Reggie an extra hug, to praise Luke on his singing, and to press a kiss to Bobby’s head and laugh when he twisted away and pretended that he hated it, even though a smile tugged at his lips. His mom who always knew just how to cheer his friends up. Alex thought about it for a minute more and then decided no, his mom was the kindest and prettiest out of all the moms, even Jesus’.

“Of course he can, I’ll even make my special macaroni and cheese!” Alex’s mom gave a small grin and ushered Alex back out of the kitchen. “Now scooch! I’ve got to finish the casserole.”

He giggled and let Reggie know that he could stay, that it was gonna be okay, that Reggie could probably even bring over the guitar he was starting to learn how to play, and they could jam together.

He glanced back at his mom, her hair still gold in the light, and grinned at her soft, tired, and slightly sad smile. She blew a kiss and tucked a strand of gold behind her ear, and then Alex was away again, cheering his friend up over the phone while he gathered some stuff for their sleepover.

Alex heaved a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face; He had a terrible headache, and the way practice was going? He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the band did too.

“Okay Luke, I get we want this perfect, but it’s hot and I have a headache, is there any way we could take a quick breather?”

Luke, surprisingly, just gave a loose nod and flopped onto their couch, face in a weak scowl, more brought on by frustration at the music than any anger towards Alex. It had been a rough week at home for him, and in his mind their struggle with this song was probably one more confirmation that his mom was right, that his music was only dragging him and his friends down.

It tore Alex apart, to see Luke like that, so he slumped onto the space beside Luke, elbowing him slightly before relaxing into the cushion, making sure to “annoyingly” slouch against Luke. The couch was big enough for all four of them to squeeze together, and had taken three of them to carry it into the Mercer’s garage the day they had found it at some estate sale the summer before, and now it was a regular occurrence to find the boys gathered together, bodies tangled together haphazardly on the worn piece of furniture.

Soon, Bobby joined in, grumbling about how sweaty Luke was, but taking the time to ruffle his hair before settling in, patting the spot beside him for Reggie to take. Luke swatted at Bobby’s hand and rolled his eyes as he half-heartedly tried to shove Alex away, inevitably giving in to the crushing affection of his friends and sighing heavily.

They sat that way for a stretch, silence strung between them like unlit Christmas lights; Noticeable, and somehow liminal, waiting for something to flick them on. The thick air felt like an inverted weighted blanket, just as heavy but the direct opposite of comfortable, and Alex lazily found himself wondering if they should add Christmas lights to the garage.

“Alright, enough of the moping guys, we’ll get this!!” And then Luke was hopping up off the couch, so what if it was clear that the pep in his voice was fake? He turned back to the boys and swung his arms wide, “We just gotta take a short break and come back and whip this song.”

His smile was achingly wide (and painfully put-on) but Alex found himself smiling back. Luke might be a hardheaded dumbass sometimes, but they were still friends, and Alex wanted Luke to see that he wasn’t the failure he thought he was.

“Sure, because we were the ones moping,” Alex rolled his eyes and heaved himself up, tugging Reggie up behind him, and headed to the door, yelling back over his shoulder-

“Last one into my parent’s kitchen gets the armchair!”

The rest of the boys launched after him, knowing the stakes of being forced to sit alone on the Mercer’s uncomfortable armchair versus being able to crowd together on their couch was more important than whatever claims of friendship came before. Bobby attempted to shove Luke behind him, only managing to allow Reggie to get a head start, and scuffled at the doorway, Luke pulling at his shirt and biting at his hand.

“No fair man, I was already farther away!!”

Alex only laughed, throwing open the door to his house and making a break for the couch as the other boys tumbled in after him.

“Hey mom!” He called out, “The boys are trying to kill m-” He was interrupted by a decorative pillow to the face and a crow of laughter from Luke as Reggie gave Bobby a high-five.

“Oh hi boys, I didn’t know you’d be coming in today! Reggie, it’s so nice to see you again, how’s your sister?” Mary Mercer walked in smiling from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

“And Luke!! I haven’t seen you in weeks besides creeping into our garage to play that marvelous music of yours. When do you plan on giving us a concert? I expect a friends and family discount of course,” She winked and gave a small chuckle.

“Paul and I have loved hearing you boys practice, and you’ve developed so much just this summer! Of course, I’ve always loved your music, but lyrically? Why, you’ve become a genius when it comes to lyrics. We’re so proud of you.”

She squeezed Bobby’s shoulder and gave him a fond smile before heading back to the kitchen.

“I made some sugar cookies and lemonade; I’d planned to bring it out to you boys, but since you’re inside now… Well, might as well enjoy the air conditioning.”

Luke, who had practically bloomed like a flower previously wilting, followed her into the kitchen, his smile now genuine and brighter than the sun itself, and the rest of the band followed.

“Say Mrs. Mercer, do you think we really could do a concert?”

The boys had sat down at the kitchen table, quickly downing most of the cookies, and Luke had taken the pause in eating to probe what Mrs. Mercer had said earlier. She stilled from where she stood at the sink and hesitated before turning to look at the boys with a gentle smile.

“Of course I do, Luke. Mr. Mercer and I have always admired your talents, and all of you boys are amazing musicians. I would love to see you build your skills even more, and I’m certain other people would adore your music.”

Alex watched as Luke grinned and tucked into another cookie, warmth filling his chest.

And later, when his mom pulled him aside and asked if Luke was doing alright, he pulled her into a tight hug and replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s doing a lot better, thanks to you.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to think when his chest started tightening and his breathing became erratic and painful. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he had a terrible hidden sickness and now something had triggered it and, oh God maybe he was dying.

He was dying and he didn’t tell his mom that he loved her that morning, and Luke didn’t know that he was one of the most incredible songwriters Alex had ever known. He couldn’t breathe and Reggie didn’t know that he meant the world to Alex, and Bobby didn’t know just how fucking much Alex cared and how much he loved it when Bobby gave him one of his rare hugs.

Because now Alex was dying and he couldn’t breathe and everything was foggy and maybe he was sobbing but his chest was so tight that he couldn’t see how he could breathe in enough to cry, let alone sob. And this was it, wasn’t it? Alex was dying alone and it was so fucking stupid because how did he go from writing his essay for English homework to this? To this sobbing panicked mess, rocking on the floor?

He was fucking dying and it was on his kitchen floor. And he was freezing and sweating and God, his stomach hurt too and maybe he wasn’t dying, maybe Alex was just going to lay there and be tortured. Nope, he was going to die, and holy fuck he wasn’t ready for heaven. His heart was going a mile a minute, and of course this was going to be how he died and-

His death was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and Alex tried jerking away but he couldn’t move. He could only shake and suck in for breath as the hand carefully pulled him into a sitting position and a low voice started pushing through the fog in his brain.

“Alex? Alex, bud… breathe with me, okay? It’ll be okay.”

But how could he fucking breathe? How could Alex breathe when it felt like his heart was going to explode at any second, his lungs captured in a vice, when his mind couldn’t hold onto a single thought for more than a second-

“Alex, you gotta work with me kid, you just gotta breathe, okay? Breathe in for as long as you can, and then hold that breath. You got it ‘Lex, c’mon, breathe with me. Alright, slow breath out now- you got it-”

And then the hand was his father, and the voice telling him to breathe was his dad, telling him he loved him and that it was okay, that Alex was okay.

Alex kept breathing, and his dad kept holding his hand, and telling him he could do it, that he was proud. Eventually Alex’s heart rate slowed, and while he felt nauseous and exhausted, he could breathe now.

It was okay, he was okay.

“Dad?”

“Yeah ‘Lex?”

“I… Thank you.”

“Always kiddo. And Alex?” Alex looked up at his dad and gave a weak hum. “If you have another panic attack, tell me? You don’t need to be going through that alone.”

Alex nodded and sagged back into his father’s waiting arms.

He was okay.

“Alex! C’mere really quick, I need your help with something!”

Alex looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor of his room at the sound of his dad’s voice. He sighed and pushed himself up, ruffling Bobby’s hair on his way out. The band had been brainstorming which songs to perform at their next gig, not that it was going to be very big, but Alex figured that Luke and Reggie were more of the brains of that particular operation, so he set off without a complaint.

Bobby swatted at his hand and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and leaving Reggie and Luke to be the only one’s actually going through their songs.

“Yeah dad?” Alex leaned over the staircase railing, eyeing the way his father sat hunched over at the table, a scratch piece of paper in front of him, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Paul Mercer was a tall man with piercing blue eyes, soft brown hair, and a wry smile. Alex liked to think he took after him, aside for the blondness of his own hair.

“Ah, Alex. Can you come over here? I’m making a list.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at that.

“O….kay?” He hopped off the last step and pulled up a chair beside his dad, taking a closer glance at the paper.

Extra blankets

Extra pillows

(extra clothes??)

Pool money for mini fridge

Add loft

“Dad, what’s all this for?”

His father scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling his hand down to rest his chin on his palm.

“I’ve been thinking, well, your mother and I have been, and… your friends…”

“Yeah?” Alex’s voice was sharp, but his dad was acting weird, and he was protective of the boys.

“They don’t have the best home life, so your mom and I were thinking about making the garage more your space. The couch is already in there, so we figured, if you boys wanted, to give it fully to the band. Blankets and pillows for when one of them needs to stay over, a fridge, which, granted, you boys would need to pay for part of it, some odds and ends you boys might need. What do you think?”

Alex turned his eyes up to his father’s and worked his jaw, his throat tight.

“Dad… That’d be great, yeah.”

His dad’s face broke into a relieved smile, and he clapped Alex on the back.

“Alright, well then. You can go back up, but if you think of anything to add, I’m drawing blanks for anything else.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks dad.”

When Alex walked back into his room a few minutes later, Luke and Bobby in an arm-wrestling competition on his bed, Reggie egging them on, he rolled his eyes and smiled.

He was grateful that his parents cared as much for these dumbasses as he did.

“Alright boys, break it up!” He sat on the bed with them, giving a yelp when Bobby launched at him and put him in a headlock before rubbing his knuckles on his head.

He smiled.

+1.

“Supper’s ready!” Mary Mercer called from the dining room, and Alex took a shaky breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on the front of his shirt before walking into the room and sitting at the table.

His dad wandered in next, pressing a kiss to his mom’s forehead, and settling hard into the chair across from Alex.

“Ah! Chicken pot pie! Delicious.”

Alex gave a half-hearted nod of agreement, his stomach churning as he eyed the food in front of him. This was usually one of his favourite meals.

“Well, shall we say grace?” The family of three held hands, Mr. Mercer saying a short blessing while Alex sent up his own frantic plea.

Just let them accept me, God, please.

“-Amen.”

Mrs. Mercer began serving the food and Alex waited anxiously until all of their plates were full to interject.

“Hey mom, dad?” His stomach twisted harder, and he felt his face already heating up. His parents waited expectantly, his mom smiling encouragingly and his father giving a nod. He could do this.

“I’ve been thinking about this, and… I’ve been really struggling with it. It’s been this way as long as I remember, it’s not a big thing it’s just- I’m gay.”

There. It was out.

Alex’s shoulders were hunched, and his eyes tightly closed. A piece of silverware clattered on a plate, a gasp. Good sign or bad sign? Good sign or-

An awkward throat-clearing.

“Son.” His dad’s voice was low and oh shit, Alex had misjudged this and his dad wasn’t happy and-

He opened his eyes.

Fuck.

His father’s eyes were full of anger, and his mother… Alex’s mom sat in shock, her hand covering her mouth, the tablecloth in front of her a mess of food, her abandoned fork lying prone and vulnerable. Alex found himself relating to it.

“Alexander…” his mom tried, pausing a moment before giving a small unbelieving scoff. “Surely you’re joking. You know our family isn’t like that.”

“And!” Mr. Mercer added, “It’s not funny either.”

Alex’s stomach dropped even further.

“No, dad- mom- I’m actually gay. That’s just part of who I am! I’m still Alex, I just. Can’t make myself like girls.” And he should have stopped. He should have stopped before he even said anything, but he was anxious and why weren’t his parents saying it was okay? Why weren’t they saying they still loved him? And-

“I… like boys instead.”

If words could be knives then they could also be nails, and Alex had just successfully finished the construction of his very own coffin.

A chair slid across the floor, and then his father was pointing angrily and telling him to “get to his fucking room” but Mr. Mercer didn’t yell, and he didn’t swear. Mr. Mercer helped Alex through panic attacks over school, and told him stories about the ocean, and Mr. Mercer never, ever swore.

Except Alex was stumbling, shell-shocked and heartbroken, up the stairs and to his room, and his dad was turning back to his mom and saying “How the hell did we raise him to be a homosexual?” and Alex’s eyes were filling with tears, his chest was tightening up, and he couldn’t breathe.

He shut the door behind him, leaning against it and sliding to the ground as his breathing became even more ragged. Alex wasn’t okay and his parents weren’t okay with him, and as he felt another panic attack coming over him, he used the breathing exercises that the very same man who was now talking about kicking him out, had taught him.

Alex fell asleep to the sound of raised voices.

He woke up to a conversion therapy camp’s pamphlet being shoved under his door.

#alex #Alex Mercer #alex mercer's parents #bobby #bobby shaw #luke #luke patterson #Reggie #Reggie Peters #jatp #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #felony writes shit

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spideychelleforever · 3 years ago

Text

Somehow, MJ had found herself in a multiverse spanning adventure with her boyfriend and what she assumed was the most powerful sorcerer in the world. To be honest, as smart as she was, the staggering enormity of the fact she was traveling through other universes, and the fact that her own - one where she had lived a happy childhood, where she watched VHS’s with her mom and dad all day, where her biggest concern was not getting more applesauce, where the scariest thing was her room before she got Christmas lights hung over her bed - was just ONE universe out of countless others?

It was more than she wanted to really process. So she was doing her best to roll with it.

Peter, ever the eternal spring of happiness and light, even if it was his own coping mechanism, was unbothered, and all he did was smile at her and keep holding her hand and staying close to her wherever she, him, and Strange went. She wasn’t religious, but God bless him? He had a way of trying to make her feel safe, even if he didn’t succeed in it, and it just reminded her all over again how she’d been in love with him since he was a curly haired, baby fat-carrying dork who was friendly to her on her first day of school with him.

But, nonetheless, through the multiverse they went. Seeing all kinds of terrible things, some of them mundane things. She got to meet other versions of herself. One Michelle Jones was a successful, rich artist, who provided her husband with a lot of financial backing for his superheroics. One Michelle Jones was a cat-themed vigilante who had a particularly fiery, passionate relationship with Peter. One Michelle Jones was super fat. One Michelle Jones was Spider-Woman, and Peter was her small, meek sidekick. Another had taken the super soldier serum out of desperation and was now Captain America. Another had been with the Avengers throughout the Snap and the Blip while Peter had still died and came back. MJ lost track of how many Michelle Jones’ she met.

But the one thing they all had in common, which started having a profound effect on the temperature in her chest, was that they all were with their Peter Parker. His exact appearance and personality differed a bit in each universe, but it was still recognizably the same Peter Parker who told her he really liked her on the bridge in London. The same smile, the same hair, the same sweetness. And in every single universe, he loved his respective Michelle Jones.

It started doing things to her head, you know? Seeing the same thing play out in all these different universes. Yes, they had already met a Peter Parker who was with a Mary Jane Watson, and a Peter Parker who was with a Gwen Stacy, both of whom were older than her Peter. But seeing this? That in countless universes, Peter Parker and Michelle Jones were still very much in love despite everything, despite everything she had done in the years prior to the Europe trip that had been done seemingly to sabotage her own happiness?

It was unreal.

And it made her soft.

Inevitably, something went wrong, however. Some enemy from the multiverse attacked and she and Peter were separated from Strange. Their instincts told them to stay put, knowing Strange was the most qualified to find them and not the other way around. At this point, they were in the empty apartment of… themselves? MJ could see pictures framed or on the wall of their variants. It was still recognizably them, but again, there were minor differences.

They were eating some ramen noodle cups when they heard a knock at the door. Eying each other warily, the pair slowly went to the peephole - MJ took point since she was taller, ha - and MJ slowly turned back to him, startled.

“Who is it?” Peter asked.

“… it’s you,” MJ mumbled.

They opened the door, and another Peter Parker variant was standing there.

And another.

Soon the apartment was filled with far more than just one Peter Parker. Thankfully, her Peter had a distinctive scar on his cheek from a recent fight with Doc Ock, so she wouldn’t lose track. But being in a room with much, much more Peter than she was used to? That was a lot.

They all talked over each other, trying to figure out what was going on. Talk of portals and villains and where their Michelle Jones was. Soon talk shifted to how long they’d been with their respective Michelle. What she liked to do, what she liked to eat, their favorite memories. So then they all turned their attention to Michelle herself, and asked if she was okay.

This was-a fucking lot. Michelle stared wide-eyed. Attention was never something she was great at. And she still had… issues over the fact that she was getting it from the boy she’d pined after for so many years. And now she was getting attention from all these Peter’s?!?

“No, I’m NOT!” MJ shouted. And soon it was all out in the open. She couldn’t even process how heartbreaking it was to see the pain in each Peter’s face, least of all her own, at seeing her angrily rant and stress about the situation. About how she wanted to forget there was a multiverse, about how she just wanted to go home and live a safe life with her Peter again. It just wasn’t fair, and soon she was sniffling.

No Peter made a move except for her own. The one who had been nice to her on their first day of school. “Can I touch you?”

Through her tears, MJ stiffly nodded, and melted into his embrace, smiling weakly when she felt a peck on her cheek.

“What can I do, to make you feel better?”

MJ didn’t answer.

That is, until he said something that changed her.

“We could have sex?”

MJ stared at him blankly.

Yes, they’d been active before this all started. But… actually, that sounded better than she had expected. Much, much better.

MJ eventually slowly nodded. And she betrayed herself by glancing around the room of Peter’s.

Peter slightly raised an eyebrow, his smile turning a little smug. “Did you have a crazy idea?”

MJ couldn’t answer as she looked back at him.

Peter shrugged. “Well, they’re all me.”

MJ didn’t respond.

****

Nine hours.

Nine hours passed after Peter affirmed the other Peter Parker’s were all him.

And Michelle Jones had seemingly lost track of everything since then.

Never in her life had she expected to see not one, but at least a dozen nearly identical set of naked Peter Parker’s all ready to pleasure her. To take care of her. To caress her, to tease her, to do things to her that made her feel like a goddess. A goddess of gluttony and lust who was pleasured by all she wanted.

She hadn’t expected to become nearly hysterical. Okay, well, her and Peter’s first time she did get pretty worked up - she’d been wanting her boy for years, of COURSE she got loud, okay?! - but this was different. She’d been hoarse after her nights with Peter, but she could barely speak. She had never expected to be pleasured by twelve times the “old webshooter” than she was used to. And she never expected so many of his toned arms, his thick and muscular calves, his washboard abs, his rock solid chest, to be on her. And she couldn’t get enough.

She was so greedy she surprised herself. She kept reaching and clawing for more, and more, and more. If this was cake she was desperately clawing for more of, she’d be the fattest Michelle Jones variant in the universe - or multiverse, or Omni-fucking verse, whatever. She couldn’t get enough Peter, and even as horrendously exhausting as it was to be in bed with twelve Peter’s, it wasn’t enough. She wanted Peter Parker. She’d wanted him all her life. And she couldn’t be satisfied.

That was, until after four hours of having multiple Peter’s on her - or in her, haha - her original Peter took leadership. How he cooed that he was here to take over, to take care of her, to please her, to love her.

Michelle had lost count of how many times she’d exploded that night, but she wanted to say it paled in comparison to when she got a hold of her original Peter alone.

After nine hours of Peter, MJ was limp. Only her heartbeat suggested she was alive. She’d seemingly lost any motor functions of her limbs, her hair was a massive, wild, huge mess obscuring her eyes. She was sweaty. Her voice failed her.

And despite all this, she wanted more.

But she couldn’t even be active herself if she wanted. She was just that far gone, she couldn’t even cuddle her Peter back, when that was one of her favorite parts of being in bed with him.

She was barely awake when she felt a light kiss, and heard a soft “I love you” from her Peter.

This was right.

There could be countless other multiverses out there, with countless other possibilities, but this was right.

This is for @machiavelien and their recent drabbles 🥰😜💘 hope I did the idea some justice

#spideychelle #michelle jones #zendaya #mj #peter parker #tom holland #tomdaya #spideychelle headcanon #zendaya coleman #peter parker x michelle jones #spideychelle is canon #spideychelle college au #michelle jones x peter parker

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winter-turtle · 3 years ago

Text

Familiar-Unfamiliar - Winterturtle - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

Or villain Tony takes on a role of reluctant caretaker.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, then immediately closed as the light above him stabbed his eyes. God, his head hurt.

But why did his head hurt? Did he fell asleep on the table again? Did he get hit with a dodgeball?

No… neither of those options seemed right. It was like a good chunk of his memory was missing. Or… more like his whole memory… The boy willed himself to remember, but another wave of pain crashed into his head, making him whine.

“You with me this time, kid?”

The voice sounded familiar, but the boy still couldn’t place it. Where did he knew the voice from?

“Hello?” the man drawled.

“Lights,” the boy muttered.

“Right.”

To the boy’s relief, the lights dimmed, allowing him to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Huh. What was he doing in a hospital room? Did he get hit with that dodgeball after all? If yes, then he really should do something about…

About who? There was supposed to be name, he knew there was supposed to be the name! Why couldn’t he remember the name? He had to go to… someone… someone who had something to do with chairs… yeah, that someone would definitely help him.

…if only he knew where to find that someone…

The man cleared his throat, making the boy – Peter! His name was Peter! – turn to him. The man with brown eyes and a goatee was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and displeased look on his face. Tiny frown settled on Peter’s face as he pushed himself into sitting position. He groaned again, rubbing his face with his palm.

“Great. You’re awake now,” the man continued. “Let me start with this: What the hell?”

“Uh…”

“All this time! All this time, all those encounters we had—"

Peter blinked owlishly at him.

“—I can’t believe they’ve been allowing a kid—”

What the hell was the man talking about?

“—gosh, you’re a kid! You have no business running around like that and putting yourself in danger!”

Oh lord. Was he in trouble? It definitely sounded like he was in trouble.

“—not to mention that this is below my level—”

Well, the man obviously knew him if he was scolding him like that. That was good, right?

“—can you imagine my utter shock—”

“Do you who I am?” Peter blurted out, cutting out the man’s rambling.

It was the man’s turn to be confused. “What kind of question is that? Yeah, I know who you are!” he threw up his arms, then muttered, “I do now, at least.”

Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, that it should be impossible to hear that last part, yet he did. Yet another mystery to be solved. “Good. Because,” he took in shuddering breath, “because I don’t,” he admitted.

“You… don’t know who you are?”

Peter shook his head.

The man fell silent. Then-

This was a total mess.

“Fuck!”

This was a total mess and Tony had no idea what to do. First the kid saw his face, then the kid got accidentally unmasked and… look, Tony knew he was a villain and the fights kinda became their thing, but he couldn’t just let him lie there in the middle of the battlefield while he was bleeding from the head!

It wasn’t even his mess to clean up to begin with! Some other asshole just showed up, claimed he had beef with Spidey and the rest was history. Tony was more of a recreational villain. It was a hobby born out of boredom. His fights with the spider-themed hero were more of a game to him than anything else. Like the kid was a cat chasing the red dot and Tony was the one holding the laser pointer.

What did he do to deserve this? Was it karma for all the time Rhodey had to take care of him during their MIT years?

Tony sighed for the umpteenth time.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

As he said – total mess. Tony kept stirring the eggs on the pan as the kid sat on one of the barstools, kicking his legs and looking around with those impossibly wide Bambi eyes filled to the brim with curiosity. Tony told him to stay in the room, but did the kid listen? Of course not! Because he was a little shit even if he couldn’t remember a damn thing!

“Don’t call me sir. I’m not that old,” Tony grumbled.

The kid’s head tilted to the side in a way that reminded Tony of a puppy. “Then what should I call you?”

God, he’s been fighting a literal kid this whole time.

Tony considered remaining silent. He was a villain. The kid was a hero. The fact remained unchanged even in their current predicament.

“You’re awfully trusting, you know?”

The kid shrugged. “You clearly know me, so… that has to amount to something, right? And besides, you would’ve hurt me already if you had any ill intentions.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you now?”

“I just do. It’s,” he gestured vaguely, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I can’t explain, but I have this feeling that tells me you’re alright. Like I can trust you.”

Tony made a grimace that could be compared to the face he was making while constipating. It was a good thing his back was facing the kid. “So I’m making you feel safe?”

Please say no. Please say no.

“Yeah, basically.”

Shit.

Tony sighed again. He piled the scrambled eggs on the plate and placed it in front of Peter. “Tony.”

The kid looked up from the plate. “What?”

“You asked what you can call me. Tony. You can call me Tony.”

The kid beamed. “Okay, Tony,” he said and dug in with the appetite of starving man. Tony piled the rest of the eggs on his own plate and joined the teen. Knowing him, Tony should’ve known the silence wouldn’t last too long.

“How do we know each other?”

“Uh…” Yeah, Tony wasn’t sure he should be telling him that. The kid was unpredictable at best and as much as Tony didn’t want to deal with the amnesiac teen, he couldn’t just release him into the wild to fend for himself. “I think it’s best if we let those things come back naturally.”

And until then, he will have to… take care of him. Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

The kid accepted that as a good enough answer and returned to his food, allowing Tony to resume the brainstorming on how to un-fuck the situation. There wasn’t much he could do since the amnesia was caused by a blunt trauma to the head. If it was caused by magic, then he could go and drop the kid off at the wizard’s doorstep with a note explaining the situation or something and be done with it. The kid’s only remaining family was out of town for the week, and he couldn’t go to the Avengers for obvious reasons.

Wait, couldn’t keeping the kid here be classified as kidnapping?

“Are you my dad?”

The question was so sudden it made Tony choke on the next bite. Violent coughing fit followed. What the hell possessed the kid to ask that?! He? A father? Yeah, no thanks.

There was a hand hitting his back in an attempt to alleviate the coughing. A moment later, Tony got his breathing under control.

“Are you okay?” the kid asked, worried frown on his face.

“Yes, but no!” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m not your dad. How did you come up with something like that?”

The kid had the gall to look sheepish. “Well… you were scolding me when I woke up. Like… you know…” he rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off.

“Like a parent?” Tony finished.

The kid’s cheeks reddened as he nodded. Then he flinched and his hands flew to clutch his head. Tony was at his side immediately. “What’s up?” he asked while lowering the teen into the chair.

The kid squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit, did Tony overlook something? Was there some hidden injury? He knew he shouldn’t have let the kid follow him! Or… was his memory coming back? If yes, then double-shit because Tony still hasn’t figured out what to do when that happened.

“It’s gone,” Peter whispered.

“What’s gone?”

“I…” he shook his head, “I thought I saw something. Like a brief flash of a picture, but when I reached for it, it disappeared.”

Tony was at loss of what to say, but he knew he had to say something because the kid looked so damn sad, it almost pulled at his heart strings. Yeah, only almost, definitely nothing more. “Hey,” he said, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder gently, “if you saw a flash of what might have been some memory, then that’s a good thing! That means it’ll eventually all come back!”

God, he really had no idea how he’ll handle this once the kid’s memories came back. There will be no explaining the gentleness. He was a villain. A man of steel! He didn’t do feelings, especially towards annoying spider-teens. But the way the kid leaned into the touch made something in his chest stir.

The kid had multiple incidents like that throughout the next few days, all with the same result. But the one thing Tony discovered was that the kid… wasn’t that bad to be around. He was smart, fast learner and always hungry for knowledge. He could keep up with what Tony said without breaking a sweat. The knowledge, even if buried by amnesia, was still there somewhere.

“Finish your food,” Tony said. “We’ll see what we can do about your memories after that.”

Aside from some painfully awkward interactions, doors ripped out of their hinges and reassurances that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with him and the strength and stickiness was kind of his thing, Tony would say that they got along.

“We’re part of the same family that branched generations ago because of a conflict involving a plot of land, a pig, a goat, a donkey and witchcraft.”

But how long would that last?

“That’s oddly specific, but no. For the last time, we’re not related.”

“Well, technically, all humans are related.”

“Okay, you smartass, but not like that.”

“Hmm, then… you’re an alien that was sent to look over me because I’m the chosen one destined to defeat evil overlord and bring peace and prosperity to some distant planet.”

“You’re just bullshitting now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. You didn’t answer though.”

“Eh, even with all the crazy stuff going on in the world from time to time, that is also not correct.”

“Then we’re… rivals!”

Tony paused his tinkering. “You could say that, but not quite.”

The kid’s eyes lit up, excited that he was getting closer to the answer. Before he could open his mouth with another onslaught, Tony spoke up.

“Enough with the guessing game for now. Let’s order some dinner. Do you want anything specific?”

The kid looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked up. “Thai,” he said slowly.

“Does anything seem familiar?” Tony asked as he walked into the living room with their dinner.

Tony nodded. “Thai it is.”

Peter, looking intently at the movie titles since he was asked to pick one, pointed at one title. “I don’t know if it’s familiar, but let’s watch this one.”

Tony nodded. “Star Wars. A classic. Okay, hop here so we can start. I’m starving.”

Peter took the offered container. “Thanks.”

It’s been a week since he woke up in here and as much as the images in his head became clearer, it still wasn’t enough to figure out who he was. He was lucky to have Tony looking after him, even if the man didn’t want to say how they know each other – hence the guessing game.

Another painful onslaught hit him at the same moment as the theme song started playing and the food hit his tongue. Peter flinched. More images flashed in front of his eyes.

A woman with glasses and long brown hair.

A boy with black hair holding some round construction in his hands.

Red and blue… what?

And just like that, the images were gone. Peter let out long sigh. No luck this time either.

But this is good, he thought and took another bite.

As the movie progressed, Peter found himself seeing more images and to his thrill, he even finished some lines of the dialogue – all in his head, of course.

It wasn’t until the Death Star exploded that Peter’s head exploded too. Every single image he’d seen suddenly made sense. Connections reestablished themselves and swooped Peter away in a single wave. His heart began to race. Bending over, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, the stress threatening to give the food the return ticket.

“You good?”

Peter wrapped his hands around his stomach a little tighter. He was sitting next to Tony. Tony was Iron Man. Iron Man took-

“Yeah,” Peter forced out and shot to his feet and speed-walked out of the living room. “Just… bathroom.”

“The Thai didn’t sit well with you?”

Peter could hear the worry in his voice. “I guess,” he called over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. “Okay, okay,” he whispered to himself as he fought off the blush from his face and searched for an exit. His saving grace came to him in the form of the window.

Honestly, Tony told himself it was to be expected. The kid was bound to remember and it was only natural that he bolted once it happened. It was fine though, really. Sure, it stung, but he dd his best to squash the feeling.

He slipped into the night.

Why should it matter that some onesie-clad teenager though of him? As a matter of fact, Tony should be plotting how to shut the kid up so he couldn’t rat out his identity.

Yes, he should be doing that.

But he wasn’t.

Someone knocked on the door, making Tony’s irritation worse. Begrudgingly, he stood up, ready to snap at whoever who dared to disturb his sulking- ahem, he meant… never mind. He opened the door and to his surprise, he was met with empty space.

“Damn kids with their pranks,” he grumbled under his breath. His sour mood almost made him miss the package sitting on his doormat. “Huh,” was all he said. Strange. He didn’t remember ordering anything.

Tony set the package on the table and opened it. The first thing that greeted him was a note with familiar scrawl. Peter’s handwriting. Tony pulled out the letter and began to read.

Hi, Mr. Tony!

So, uh, first of all, let me say sorry that I ran away like that! I just, uh, couldn’t take advantage of your kindness anymore. I didn’t want to be a burden.

Tony frowned. So the kid ran because he was… embarrassed?Not because Tony was a villain? He decided to read on.

Next, let me say thank you for getting me off that battlefield. I looked up the footage and saw that you defended me from that other guy, so, thanks for that too.

I have a proposition for you – you won’t tell anyone my identity and I won’t tell anyone yours. It’ll stay between you and me. Well, and my aunt… But she forced me to talk, I swear! She got home early and didn’t believe me when I said I stayed over at new friend’s place. You can’t lie to her!

So, please, keep my identity secret. You might have your suits, but one does not simply mess with May. I doubt you want an angry Italian lady on your ass…

She also insisted on giving you a gift as a thank you for taking care of me. She made you a date loaf. I’m sorry about that.

Tony frowned again. Why would the kid be sorry about a date loaf? He ripped a piece of it, popped it into his mouth and immediately choked. Not really feeling like cleaning the chewed food from his carped, he forcefully swallowed it down. “Okay, I get it now,” he said, shuddering.

P.S. I hope the knowledge of my age won’t change the way we interact while in our suits. The fights with you are fun but I’m getting bored of holding back so you can win. :P XD

- Peter

Tony gasped.

That cheeky little shit! He was going easy on Tony to let him win?! Oh no, Tony didn’t think so! There will be no more going easy! The kid wanted war? He’ll get a war.

But despite that, Tony found himself fondly smirking. “Next time…”

Someone was watching him. Tony looked out of the window just in time to see a blur of red and blue disappear behind a wall of the house on the other side of the street.

“Sure, kid. See you next time.”

#tony stark #peter parker #villain tony stark #villain irondad #amnesia #amnesiac peter parker #temporary amnesia #peter parker is a little shit #reluctant caretaker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #marvel fanfiction #head injury #memory loss

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years ago

Text

Five

Four times Peter didn't ask for a hug, and one time he did.

Tony x reader x Steve x Bucky

Peter Parker was quite possibly the sweetest kid in the world. When you'd first met him at thirteen, you thought he couldn't get any more. He'd come into the Tower with wide eyes, refusing to use anyone's first name, as he ran around Tony's lab.

He didn't grow out of the first name thing until after May had passed, and the four of you had adopted him.

But he was still the sweetest kid in the world. And bubbliest, smartest, cutest, whatever cute verb you could think of, could be related directly towards him.

It was probably because of how sweet the kid was no-one could help wanting to hug him.

"Hi Miss Black Widow, I mean, hi Miss Romanoff." Peter stammered as he and Tony entered the living room.

"Peter, I thought I told you it's just Y/N." You smiled at him. "Are you having fun with Tony, Pete? He's not distracting you too much, is he?"

"Excuse you! I am the least distracting person ever! Aren't I spider kid?" Tony asked, throwing the teen a drink. "You want food, spider kid? I know what your metabolism is like."

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said, standing in the kitchen doorway. Tony narrowed his eyes at the teen and grinned when Peter's stomach growled.

"Sure, you are. Take a seat. I'll put on a pizza." Tony ordered him.

"Come on, Pete. You can sit next to me." You said, patting the couch beside you. "I was about to put on a movie."

"What are you putting on?" Peter asked as he gingerly sat next to you.

"Corpse Bride." You smiled. "It's my favorite."

"It's her comfort movie," Tony called from the kitchen.

"Now who's spreading lies?" You asked, throwing a pillow in his direction.

"It's okay to have a comfort movie. Mine's the Lego Movie." Peter told you.

"I don't think I've ever seen that one." You admitted, causing the teen to gasp.

"We have to watch it after the Corpse Bride," Peter said firmly. "You can't go through life without watching it."

"Okay. I can agree to that. Are you going to join us, Tony?" You called, leaning your head back on the couch.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." He said, entering the room. "Do you want this back?" He teased, holding up the pillow you'd thrown.

"Give it." You demanded, making grabby hands.

"Alright, alright, bunch up, you two," Tony said, coming over and jumping onto the couch.

"Bloody hell, Tony." You groaned, shifting closer to Peter.

Remains of the Dead had just finished when a loud alarm jolted you back to reality.

"That's me," Tony said, grabbing his phone as he stood. "Pizza's ready. I'll bring it in." He added, pressing a kiss to your cheek before exiting the living room.

"Are you okay, Miss, uh, Y/N?" Peter asked you.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry, I'm not better company today." You apologized, rubbing your eyes as you shifted on the couch.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm enjoying today, honest." Peter promised, shifting closer. "Corpse Bride is a classic."

"It really is." You smiled, resting your head against the back of the couch.

"How come this is your comfort movie?" Peter asked.

"When I babysit Clint's kids, we always make forts and watch movies. One day I wasn't doing so well mentally, so Lila dragged me downstairs, and we watched Corpse Bride and Coraline all day." You told him with a small smile. "It's a comfort. It makes me not feel so alone."

"You know you're not alone, right, Y/N?" Peter questioned you after a second. "Sometimes, it seems like you're alone, and it feels like it, but you're not alone. And I've been told I'm a pretty decent listener you can always talk to me."

"You're too sweet for your own good, you know?" You commented, kissing his temple as you pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Pete." You said, releasing him from the hug.

"Okay, so somehow both the pizzas burnt. What do you say we order in?" Tony asked as he rushed back into the living room.

Non-reader POV

Though Peter preferred working in the lab with Tony, once a week, Peter trained with one of the Avengers. Just because he was an enhanced spiderling didn't mean he didn't need combat training.

It was usually Steve or Bucky who trained with Peter. Thor would when he was on world because the three were the only ones who could handle getting hit by the spiderling.

Today Steve was working with Peter.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm late." Peter hurried as he ran into the training room. "I got held up on patrol. A cat got trapped in a gutter, and when I tried to get it out, I realized it had kittens too. And then I had to find a box so I could take them to a shelter-"

"Pete, kid, it's okay. It sounds like you've had quite a day." Steve smiled. "Isn't that your third trapped cat this week?" Steve asked as Peter dropped his bag in the corner.

"Yeah, the poor guys keep getting stuck." Peter chuckled. "Alright, I'm ready. What are we doing today?"

"Offense," Steve told him. "Your defense is getting much better, but you still need to work on your offense. We'll do a couple of laps to warm up, though."

A couple of laps didn't actually mean two or three with Steve. A couple of laps usually meant twenty to thirty.

"On your left!" Peter exclaimed, passing Steve on his twelfth lap.

"First, that was my right. Second, you're never allowed to talk to Sam again." Steve groaned as Peter laughed giddily.

"Mr. Wilson said you'd get it. He also said it's payback." Peter informed him as he zoomed past.

"Alright, that's enough warming up," Steve said after the twenty-second lap. "Come on. We got to work on your offense now."

"I thought my offense was good. That's what you said last time." Peter recalled.

"I said it was good, but we all saw you get thrown through a building last week. That means extra training." Steve informed him.

"Okay fine." Peter sighed.

"You're pulling your punches," Steve announced after several minutes. "I thought we agreed you don't pull your punches with me?" Steve asked the teen who flushed and refused to meet his eyes.

"I know," Peter mumbled, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Okay. Water break time." Steve announced, leading Peter over to a bench. "Pete, what's going on? You haven't pulled your punches with me for months."

"I'm just trying to watch my strength," Peter mumbled. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Peter, I've already told you I can take it. You're not going to hurt me." Steve promised the boy, taking a seat beside him. "But you can't pull your punches in training. You can't do it on the field, and you can't do it here."

"I could hurt you, though. I don't want to hurt anyone." Peter told him.

"I know, Pete. I know you don't want to hurt anyone. I trust you, Peter. You're not going to hurt me." Steve assured him. "Do you want to try that again?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded after a minute. "Yeah, let's do it again." He said, jumping to a stand.

"Alright, let's do it, kid," Steve said, standing and pulling Peter into a quick hug. "I'm proud of you, Pete."

Tony was in bed with all three of his partners when he got the call. He'd quickly moved to pick up his phone before it could wake his partners.

"Hello?" He asked after he left the bedroom. "Tony Stark speaking."

"Mr. Stark. I'm Veronica Montgomery." Veronica greeted. "I work for Queens Hospital Center. May Parker was admitted three hours ago after her nephew called 911. Unfortunately, May Parker passed away around an hour ago. Her nephew is in the waiting room, and you are listed as Mr. Parker's second emergency contact."

"I'll be right there," Tony said without hesitation. "Don't let Peter leave. He'll be coming home with me." Tony told Veronica as he rushed to the elevator.

Tony hung up soon after that and rushed into the closest car he could.

"JARVIS, if Y/N, Steve, or Buck, wakes up, inform them what's happened," Tony said as he was halfway to the hospital.

"Of course, sir." JARVIS agreed.

Tony sped as quickly as he could to the hospital and barely remembered to turn off or lock the car when he arrived.

"Peter!" Tony shouted as he raced into the waiting room. Peter sat slumped in a plastic chair, eyes blankly trained on the floor, and didn't react at his name.

Tony rushed forward until he was standing right before the teen who still did not react.

"Pete?" Tony softly asked as he kneeled in front of him. "Come on, kid. Talk to me."

"Tony?" Peter whimpered, finally looking up at Tony.

"Yeah, it's me, kiddo." Tony nodded. Tony watched as Peter's face began to crumble, and then he had his arms full of a sobbing spider kid. "It's okay, Pete. You're going to be okay."

Peter didn't respond, merely clung tighter onto Tony as he continued to sob loudly.

"Come on, Pete. You're going to stay at the Tower tonight." Tony said after Peter had quieted. Peter numbly nodded as Tony helped him stand.

Tony led the teen back to the car, where Peter curled into a ball. Peter didn't say anything the entire drive back to the Tower. Tony had to look over multiple times, checking if the teenager was asleep only to see him wide awake and blankly staring out the window.

Tony helped Peter out of the car when they arrived back at the Tower, and half carried him into the elevator.

Every Avenger had a floor they occupied at the Tower, except Peter. Peter had a room on Tony, Steve, Y/N, and Bucky's level.

Upon entering his bedroom, Peter stumbled forward and landed first face on his bed. The exhausted teenager was asleep in seconds. After covering him with a blanket, Tony moved back into his room to see his partners sitting up awake.

"How is he?" Y/N asked him.

"Asleep." Tony sighed, collapsing back in bed.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Bucky asked him, drawing circles on Tony's neck.

"No." Tony shook his head. "The poor kid started crying once he saw me and didn't say anything after that."

"Jesus. Poor Pete." Steve murmured.

"I want to adopt him." Tony blurted out. "He doesn't have any other family, they'll put him in the system, I can't let that happen. He's just a kid."

"I'll support you, Tony." Y/N told him.

"We all will," Steve said as Bucky nodded in agreeance.

"He won't be alone."

Peter was rarely asked to go on Avenger missions. Spiderman was the friendly neighborhood kind of man. He kept mostly to the ground.

This made all four of his adoptive parents, and adoptive aunts and uncles, very happy that he was safer than they were.

But when the fifteen-year-old was asked to join his family on a mission, he rarely said no.

In this case, though, he didn't exactly need to be asked.

"You're supposed to be at school, Pete," Tony said as Peter swung onto the scene.

"Little hard to focus on Algebra when the city's being invaded," Peter commented, webbing a creature in the face. "What are these guys?"

"I'm not sure, but considering how much Thor's enjoying himself, I'm assuming they're Asgardian," Bucky grunted.

"Enjoyment doesn't equal knowledge." Y/N reminded the soldier.

"Hey, Thor, you know these guys?" Bucky shouted at the God who was boisterously attacking the creatures.

"Of course!" Thor boomed back. "Loki and I would play with them as children! Why I skinned my first at seven!"

"Okay, disturbing facts aside, how do we defeat these guys?" Natasha asked.

"Find the Queen!" Thor informed the team. "Once she dies, the whole colony follows!"

"How can you tell who's the Queen?" Steve asked, slamming his shield into the chest of a creature.

"She's the biggest and the deadliest!" Thor cheered.

"Joy." Y/N groaned.

With Thor's advice, the team began taking out as many of the creatures as they could.

"Dad!" Peter shouted, rushing to Bucky's aid as several of the vile creatures surrounded his injured father.

Peter quickly webbed the monsters into a ball, and webbing that ball to a wall.

Peter dropped to his knees beside his father and pressed his hand onto Bucky's bleeding shoulder.

"We have to move. You can't stay here." Peter said, pulling the man to his feet.

"I'm fine, kid." Bucky groaned as Peter dragged him through the street and into an abandoned building.

"You're bleeding," Peter argued, pushing Bucky's hand onto his wound. "Hold that." He ordered.

"What happened to respecting your parents?" Bucky joked.

"You'll get your respect when you're not bleeding," Peter told him, grabbing scraps of cloth.

"You're not going to be able to fix it," Bucky told Peter, taking the fabric and holding it to his wound. "I'll have to get Bruce to look at it later. Go on, kid, I'll be okay."

"I'm not leaving you. What if those things come in here?" Peter argued. Just as the words left Peter's mouth, the door burst open, and several monsters rushed into the room.

"You had to jinx it, didn't you?" Bucky sighed, grabbing his gun with his metal hand.

In tandem, Peter and Bucky disposed of the creatures.

"Duck, Pete!" Bucky ordered, raising his gun. Peter did as he was asked and ducked low. Bucky quickly shot the creature that was behind Peter, and suddenly the remaining monsters turned into rubble.

"I think you might have got the Queen," Peter said, rising to his feet. Bucky laughed slightly before pulling Peter into his arms.

"You're okay, right? They didn't get you?" Bucky asked, pulling Peter's mask off.

"I'm fine, dad." Peter nodded. "I promise."

"Good." Bucky sighed, embracing his kid again. "What do you say we find your mom and other dads?"

"Sounds good."

Reader POV

Peter hadn't been acting like himself for the past several days. His regular bright and sunny disposition had turned moody. He hadn't gone out on patrol in days, an activity he was usually all too eager to do, had seemingly dreaded going to school, and had shut himself off from his friends and family.

"Are you sure we can't just ask him what's wrong?" Tony asked aloud. "Why aren't we allowed to ask him?"

"Because he's a teenager, Tony." Steve sighed. "All the books say he'll shut us out even more than now if we do that."

"Fuck your parenting books," Tony grumbled. "I bet half the people who wrote them have never had a child."

"We need to give him space." Steve reasoned with Tony.

"We've given him space." Bucky cut in. "This is different to when May died. He's different." He added as the elevator dinged. The four of you went quiet as Peter trudged in.

"Hey, kiddo." You greeted him with a bright smile. "How was school?" You asked him.

"Fine," Peter mumbled. "I've got homework." He said before he shuffled into his room.

"Tony's right." You began as you stood. "Fuck the books." You said before marching down the hall. "I'm coming in, Pete." You loudly told the teen and opened his door.

Peter was not sitting at his desk when you entered but was instead huddled in a ball underneath his quilt.

"I don't remember ever getting homework like this." You commented, strolling in and taking a seat on his bed.

"You didn't go to a normal school. You went to an assassin school." Peter mumbled.

"Well, you're not wrong." You said, chuckling a little. "What's going on, Pete?" You asked, laying a hand on his back. "I need you to talk to me."

"Nothing's going on. I'm just tired." Peter denied, popping his head out of the covers.

"Don't think that bullshit will work on me." You shook your head. "Assassin school, remember? Reading body language is a class." You told him. "Peter, we're scared. We don't know what's going on with you."

"Nothing's wrong." Peter denied again, though this time, his voice cracked.

"Pete, please." You begged.

"You're not alone, Pete," Bucky announced from the doorway. "We're all here for you." He added as he, Steve, and Tony entered the room.

"Always have been, always will be, underoos," Tony added, sitting at the end of the bed.

"Promise." Steve nodded, sitting next to you.

Peter looked between each of you before he broke. Peter sat up in the bed and pushed himself into the corner as he started sobbing.

"Pete." Steve started, reaching his hand forward only to pull back when Peter flinched.

"Peter, you have to tell us what's wrong." You said, clasping Steve's hand tightly.

"Please, Peter." Bucky pressed. The four of you sat in anticipation, waiting for Peter to calm himself so he could explain what was happening.

"We have a new social studies teacher," Peter whispered, avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Westcott. He asked me to stay behind after class last week. He wanted to talk about my work, and then he started touching my shoulders. I didn't think anything of it until the next day."

"What happened the next day, bud?" Tony quietly asked him.

"He made me touch him," Peter whispered. "I didn't want to. I didn't. But he said if I didn’t do it, if I told, he'd make someone else do it. He threatened Ned." Peter told you all.

"Peter, what else did he do?" Steve asked.

"I wanted him to stop." Was all Peter said.

"Y/N, get your gun. I'll grab mine." Bucky said, pushing off the wall.

"Wait, both of you stop," Steve said, grabbing your hand as you stood. "You can't kill him."

"Why not Steve?" Bucky growled, folding his arms.

"He hurt our kid." You snapped, pulling yourself free.

"Don't kill him," Peter begged. "Please, mom, dad, don't kill because of me."

"He's not getting off scot-free." You sighed, sitting back down.

"Not in the slightest." Tony agreed. "I'm thinking of the SHIELD prison."

"Why can't we just throw him in a pit, and throw away the pit?" Bucky muttered.

"Peter, what do you need, kid?" Steve asked, looking at Peter's small form.

“Whatever you need, you can have it.” Tony agreed. “A therapist, a new car, a trip to Legoland with Ted?”

“I’d really like a hug.” Peter admitted, his voice breaking.

“Come here, Pete.” You said softly as you opened your arms to him.

Peter leaped forward and buried his face into your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and rested your head on his. Peter let out a content sigh as Steve, Bucky, and Tony also joined the hug.

“I’m sorry.” Peter whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Steve told him, running his fingers through Peter’s curls.

“Nothing at all.” You agreed.

“We’re going to fix this. We’re going to help you.” Bucky promised.

“We promise, kiddo.” Tony added.

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