#usually i have basically completely scrapped his face and just made a new guy

[ssspringroll]

OMG VLAD TIME

[buckyownsmylife]

I’ve Told You Now - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where alpha!Bucky fucks you in front of the other avengers

Warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics, public sex, oral (f), p in v, possessiveness

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Thank you to my lovely @wakingbeauty​ for giving this a read for me! This is strictly the product of mine and @navybrat817​‘s belief that public sex should be more common in A/B/O dynamics, so there you have it 😊 Also, I used a prompt the sweet @jbreenr​ gave me ages ago for a headcanon and I asked to save it for this story since it made such perfect sense! Hope you guys like it! I might write more public sex A/B/O smut in the very near future!

Bucky’s P.O.V.

Everyday was the same. I’d wake up and join the rest of the team for breakfast to find out that despite the fact that someone had saved me a seat, that same someone had thought of a new joke to make at my expense.

If I thought Tony’s nicknames were bad, this was a whole new level. It’s like she wanted to find all the little ways to annoy me, while still remaining mindful of my recovery process and triggers.

I’d never met an omega like that before. Back in my time, omegas were mostly prim and proper, almost shy around alphas, even if they were starting to show a little more skin and entertain the possibility of staying closer to us for longer periods of time.

I wasn’t used to someone who felt so comfortable with my intimidating aura, and the alpha in me definitely couldn’t grow used to seeing so much of her skin all the time. By now, I was sure she was doing it on purpose.

She knew how it affected me, she could smell it - every omega was able to identify when a nearby alpha was aroused. And I knew it turned her on in return. I was also biologically wired to sense that.

It was basically a game of who would break first. And I knew she thought she would win, but my resolve still wasn’t broken.

“Ah… What a lovely day. So full of possibilities… if you’re not a hundred years old,” she quickly added, throwing me a glance that had me rolling my eyes. “What do you say, grandpa? Feel like going out for a run?”

Who knows what I would have answered if she hadn’t decided to pull her hair up right at the second Wanda opened the window to look out into the field? The smile that had been on my face quickly dropped when I was hit with a heavy wave of her scent and my knees buckled as I tried to hold myself back from just jumping on top of her.

Unfortunately, because awareness was not something she seemed capable of having, she did not realize my struggle. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t even keep up anymore?” The growl that escaped my chest at her joke was all the warning she needed to finally understand what was going on.

“I’ll show you what I can keep up.” I was on her in a second, my consciousness of our surroundings reduced to absolutely nothing. It was only her and me, and the way our lips moved as I guided her back to the couch, until we both fell on top of it.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” I asked as I tore her shirt with a simple flick of my wrist. “Is this how you wanted it to happen? For me to lose all control and just take you right here?” All that left her was a garbled sound, her hands clawing at my back as I easily got rid of her jeans until they were nothing but scraps on the floor and then exposed her pussy to the tower’s living room.

“Fuck yes,” I growled, immediately leaning down to get a taste of her. Sweet and wet and mine, all mine. I had no idea where that possessive instinct had come from, but I would be crazy to ignore it - especially since it felt like I’d kill and die for her at that very second.

Her hips jerked up, instinctively searching for my tongue, but a breeze of clarity seemed to brush over her and make her sit up on her elbows, looking down at me. I knew what was running through her mind before she said it, and I wasn’t having any of it.

“You better lay back down and let me savor my meal,” I warned, knowing the rest of the team had gathered around to watch the show. I didn’t have to take my eyes off her debauched state to know it, but her gaze was on them, even if the rest of her body was still spread open for anyone to see, uncaring of the fact that we were being watched.

“You poked the beast, now you’ll entertain it,” Steve warned, shaking his head as if to scold us, but when I met his eyes, I could see the glint of desire in them. He wanted to be in my position, he wanted to have his own tongue shoved deep inside my girl’s pussy, and it only made me eat her more hungrily.

“Eyes on me, ‘mega,” I called out to her once I saw her eyes linger on Steve. “Let them watch, that’ll keep them away from you.” She groaned at the possessiveness in my words, but it was the sounds of someone who was relishing in it. And I was relishing in her juices.

“Fuck!” She cursed when I buried my tongue as far as it could go in her, something deep inside of me desperate to be drowning in her scent. “Should have gotten you mad before.”

The thought was amusing to me. Did she really think this was only the result of pent-up anger, and not months of desire and lust that had finally spilled from my weakened resolve?

“Well…” I started, pushing two fingers inside of her to scissor her open for me, although my scent had already made her body as prepared for an Alpha an Omega could get.

I was a bit larger than usual Alphas, though - courtesy of the serum - so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t go through any pain whatsoever. “You keep me mad all the fucking time, kitten.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“With desire or anger, it doesn’t really care,” he continued, like it was any ordinary day and we were chatting in the living room, our usual teasing banter taking over the conversation, instead of him eating me out on the couch in front of all of our teammates while I was spread out for their eyes to take in.

“You’re always a tease to me, in one way or another.” His huge hands massaged the inside of my thighs as he finally lowered himself to suck on my nub again, making me instinctively buck my hips up in search of his tongue.

“Stay…” he ordered in his Alpha tone, and the whine that broke free from my chest was more animal than human now. The way he used his mouth was nothing short of sinful, licking me from ass to clit with an eagerness I had never expected the former Winter Soldier to have.

But I guess today I was discovering all of my fantasies about Bucky had been a bit misplaced. For one, I never thought he’d be the type of Alpha to take me in such a public environment.

In every dirty dream I’d had, Bucky was far too possessive to allow anyone to explore what was his - even if it was only visually - but what I’d come to learn was that while he was definitely dominating, there was a hint of exhibitionism in his craving.

He liked to have people see him break me into a million pieces only to glue me back together with a lick of his tongue. He liked that they were seeing his talent - and I had to admit, by what I saw in his friend’s stare, that they were also admiring me too.

And he got off on that. I didn’t expect it would make me get off too.

“Delicious,” he hummed when he finally pulled away from my cunt, having brought me to my release and licked it off of me. Still, an overwhelming amount of wetness covered the lower part of his face, prompting me to raise myself to my elbows and lick my own juices off of his lips, the omega in me begging to scent him as mine.

“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t you?” He chuckled once the surprise faded away, easily manhandling me onto my stomach, the sound of a zipper being opened denouncing that he had undressed.

“Keep fucking me and you’ll find out.” I heard him spitting behind me, a shiver running up my spine as I realized he was playing with himself while looking at me presenting for him.

“Oh, I’ll do much better than that.” That was all the warning I got before I felt the head of his member poking my entrance, slowly but surely sliding in until he had bottomed out.

My whines became intensified when he pulled me up by my hair, his free hand covering my breast to rub my nipple as he whispered, “I’m gonna claim you, sweetheart. You think you’re ready for that? Think you’ll be able to take it?”

I was quickly realizing I had severely underestimated the man inside of me, even if not to the extent he thought I had. I was not ready for that. I don’t think I ever would be, but fuck if I wasn’t gonna take it anyway.

Because it was so much better than I ever imagined it to be.

“No more playing hard-to-get,” Bucky continued, finally starting to move and immediately settling on a punishing pace. “No more teasing me with your short skirts and tempting scent. You’ll be mine now, ‘mega. Forever. How does that sound?”

God, I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to keep exercising this complete control over my body that he had so easily managed to take. His cock was stretching me in ways I’d never been stretched before, his inflated knot slamming against my opening with each thrust.

“Always mocking me… Am I too old for you now?” I shivered as he licked a stripe up my neck. I knew he wouldn’t actually bite me in front of everyone - a claiming ritual was a sacred ritual, even the most feral of Alphas respected the intimacy of that. But the way he was taunting me was all too arousing, I couldn’t deny it. “Tell me.”

His hand squeezed my hip, looking for an answer. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing came out. His palm slipped further down, finding my clit, and as two fingers rubbed my own juices, around it, I screamed.

“N-No!” Bucky chuckled against my neck, body continuing his onslaught against mine as he nuzzled my scent gland. “Y-you’re not too old for me. Take me, take me please.” His coos were too provoking, making me cry out loud at the mocking sound.

“Aw, kitten…” His warm mouth breathed the next words against my ear, “I already did.” He turned my face towards his with his fingers tangled in my hair, engulfing my mouth with his.

“Alright.” A familiar voice spoke from not too far, startling me for a second as I once again was reminded that we were still very much surrounded by our team. “You two might just be the sexiest mates I’ve ever seen fuck.”

A growl escaped Bucky’s chest at hearing someone refer to us as mates for the first time, and I panted in need, desperate to cum, desperate for him. “Seen a lot of mates fuck, Romanoff?” He nibbled at my ear, hands roaming over my body as if to make it very clear to every person watching that they could look all they wanted, I was still his.

“You have no idea.” Looking over a bit to the side from where she was seated, there rested Sam’s almost limp body, a hand curled over his boner as his eyes never wavered from the place I was connected to the man behind me.

“Well, I know what I’m gonna think about tonight.” Something between a laugh and a moan escaped me, making Bucky growl again, hands pushing me back down onto the couch as his hips picked up the pace with which they’d ruin me.

To say I was soaked was the understatement of the century. I could feel it, running down my thighs, drenching the couch underneath me. I don’t know how we’d be able to use it again, but that was the least of my concerns in the moment.

“I am begging you to let me lick her pussy after you guys are done,” came Tony’s voice, and I knew Bucky would growl in his direction just from the way his fingers pressed tightly on the flesh of my hips. “Not that type of Alpha, sorry, I got it.”

I heard his footsteps retreating quickly, probably scared of what Bucky would do to him once we were done, but in the Alpha’s defense, Tony seemed to disappear from his mind the second he left the room, all of his senses directed to me and his goal of making me cum around his cock.

“C’mon, kitten,” he whispered, fingers easily locating my clit to play with me as he pulled me up to rest against his chest one more. “Come for me, milk me dry.” That was all I needed to give him what he wanted, and although I was anticipating to moan loudly as I creamed his knot, his mouth covered mine to swallow all of my sounds in a deep kiss, hands protectively covering me while pawing at my breasts at the same time.

“Steve,” Bucky called after he managed to catch his breath, having fallen on top of me on the couch once his knot popped open. “I won’t be able to work out with you today.”

I looked up as best as I could to find Steve already staring at us, although red from head to toe. “That’s understandable,” he spoke in a thick, rough voice that I barely recognized as his. “You seem to have worked out enough already.”

Bucky stopped running his nose against my cheek at his friend’s attempt at teasing, a slow smirk taking over his face as he joined me and stared at his friend. “Oh, I’m not nearly done,” he warned. “You’re more than welcome to join us for some cardio, if you want to.”

The soft smile Steve sent our way told us everything we needed to know about his plans for the evening.

[thekisforkeats]

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned. 

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

[i-simp-for-gintoki]

Itadori Yuji and Gojo Satoru thinking their s/o died

“Hey If you're comfortable can you do Reader with amazing regeneration power ( like deadpool lol ) For Yuji And Gojou? Like they don't know about their power tought they're dead but they just pop up back like nothing happens and explain their power to them? But if you're not comfortable it's okay! thank you” -anon

Sorry this took so long! I literally completely rewrote this like 6 times and decided in the end just to keep it relatively simple and not overly detailed. Gojo’s part includes spoilers from the manga (specifically the Hidden Inventory arc) only because thats the only time i could ever think of a situation where he would see and be near you when you get that injured.

Despite all these rewrites i still hate it-

Warnings: blood and injuries

Itadori Yuji:

Gojo had arrived to the classroom 8 minutes late as usual

Instead of training, he decided to hand out some missions to you first years

“Nobara and Megumi, you two are gonna go clean up a hospital and the surrounding area in the xxx district. Meanwhile, Yuji and y/n are gonna go clear out curses from some buildings by a cemetery in the xxx district. Shouldn’t be too difficult”

“You’re not gonna tell us which buildings?” itadori asks and the blindfolded man simply shrugs

“Your lovely y/n can sense the curses out with the power of love” he explains

You sigh and get up from your desk

“Yeah yeah, lets go Yuji” you say pulling your boyfriend’s hand

“Aw, no cute nicknames?” “Shut up Gojo-sensei” you say making your teacher frown

‘Never should have let gojo satoru of all people know that me and yuji are dating’ you think to yourself

And so you and yuji went off to fulfill the mission

It took a bit to get there but luckily it didn’t take long to find the curses

You decided to stick together as you searched the empty buildings

There was a small handful of the usual low grade curses that you guys took out pretty easily

But just when you guys thought you were done, a high level cursed appeared

“Man, I really wished Gojo-sensei would let us know if theres gonna be anything thats grade 2 or above” you say growing nervous and yuji nods his head

“Don’t worry, i’ll protect you” he says giving you a reassuring smile

And so you guys got serious and fought the curse

You both received a few scraps here or there but nothing too serious

Its when the curse switched up its attacks that it got particularly tricky

Instead of throwing cursed energy around, it shot disc blades out of its arm

You barely had enough time to duck out of the way

It went clean through the wall

“Yuji leave him to me” you say but he immediately denies your request

“No way! I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt when I could have prevented it”

You were unsure but continued the fight anyways

After both of you sustaining many injuries, Itadori went for the final blow and ended it

Sadly before it fully faded away, it sent one final disc out

Flying straight past yuji, you didn’t have time to react and it went straight through your neck, essentially decapitating you

Your body falling limp onto the ground, the pink haired boy could only slowly turn around to face you

“...huh?”

Eyes wide as they could possibly be he called out your name and fell to his knees

“You’re joking right? Theres no way this really just happened...right?!” he yelled, voice cracking as he stared at your ‘corpse’

“Ooh such a shame. See if you just swapped places with me they would have lived. Atleast they wouldn’t have died to some low level curse” Sukuna said, mouth appearing on his cheek

“Shut up!”

At this point he was bawling

Tears were flooding out of his eyes even tho its only been about 10 seconds

As his shaking hands slowly picked your body up he mumbled a bunch of apologies but stopped when he saw something

Your head was beginning to regenerate

And he has to admit

Seeing your head fully regen like that was kinda disgusting

Opening your eyes, the first thing you see is a teary eyed boyfriend

“Yuji?” You ask and he pulls you into a very tight hug

“I’m so sorry y/n, I let you...I-I thought you died” he choked, still shaking as he held you

You sighed and returned his hug with as much love as possible

“I realize i never explained my ability to you huh? So you know reverse techniques? Its like that but much more advanced. Unless im completely blown away, i’m pretty sure I can’t die. I do however still feel the pain”

He nods his head at your explanation

You guys sit there for a bit as you quietly reassure everything is fine while rubbing his back

You kiss his cheek and stand up

For the rest of the day he is stuck onto you, just glomped on as much as you’ll allow him to be

It really scared him

It happened so fast and if you really had died...he doesn’t even wanna think about how he’d react

When you returned to the school, you didn’t bother reporting back to the principle or gojo and instead spent the rest of the day chilling with Yuji in the dorms

You could deal with the consequences later because for now

Loving yuji and making sure he’s happy is all that matters

Manga spoilers for Gojo under the cut

Second year!Gojo Satoru:

Its not completely accurate to what happened but shushhh

You guys had just come back from Okinawa and despite being on a serious mission you guys had fun

Well you did stay an extra day solely to stay at the beach but no one needed to know that-

But now the fun’s over and you were back at Jujutsu high safe inside its barriers

You could tell Satoru was absolutely finished with this mission, he was completely over it and exhausted

“Im done. No more baby sitting” he said leaning onto you

Resting his chin on top of your head he let out a yawn which made you laugh a bit

“Suguru. You can do the rest with Amanai right? I wanna go sleep and cuddle with y/n” he complained while wrapping his arms around you but suguru snapped back

“Huh? You think you can just walk away with them before the biggest part of this mission??”

He wanted gojo to see the mission through to the very end and not just ditch to go ‘cuddle with y/n’

When the boys continued to argue, gojo unwrapped his arms from you as he stepped closer towards getou

Sighing you gave riko a look and apologized which she simply smiled at

You only meant to take a step forward to intervene

Only a single small step

But your instincts where screaming that you push Satoru away with no second thought

Why did you follow your instincts so quickly? Why shove him so hard that he almost fell over? And why was there a searing hot pain in your gut?

“Im surprised you managed to push him out of the way on time, makes this whole effort for assassinating pointless don’t you think?”

As you slowly looked down you finally realized a sword had been stabbed into you, and that there was a new face right behind you

Ah, thats why then

“Y/n!!” Satoru yelled, blue eyes widening as he saw blood seep through your clothing and onto the concrete

As he and suguru instantly went into battle mode, the sword was harshly ripped out towards your side and cut an arm off in the process

As suguru used curses to hold toji back, satoru swore he teared up a bit as he picked you up and moved to a more safer spot

He couldn’t lose you, literally anyone but you

He’d be willing to die if you got to live

“Y/n your stomach..and arm..!” he yelled watching the blood pour out of you and showing no sign of stopping

Which just made him grow more and more panicked

You could feel his arms tremble as he held you and see that it was taking everything he had to not let the tears spill

“I-I don’t--this..this is my fault! The second i stop using my power this happens to you!” his emotions where spiraling more and more out of control

He couldn’t even see that the blood had already stopped

“Nothing is your fault Satoru. You can deal with the blame game later and instead go deal with the situation at hand” “But-”

“Satoru. i’ll be fine, focus on the enemy and protecting Riko.” you say wincing, already feeling it everything heal itself

“Fine?? Those injuries arent a ‘im fine’ injuries--!” you cut him off by harshly placing your hands onto his face to help him snap out of it

“Satoru. Im perfectly fine okay? So stop panicking.” you say pressing your forehead to his, though it was a bit awkward since he was taller than you

(if your taller than 190cm props to you and just ignore that part)

“Huh? Can reverse techniques be this advanced for shamans?” he asked, eyes still wide as he gently placed his hand on yours

He was in complete awe that your arm was back and looked perfectly normal

“My ability is basically a more advanced version of Shoko’s ability. I can regenerate anything and will be perfectly fine even if i lose my head. So ignore me for the time being and go kick the intruders ass” you say and he takes a deep breath before nodding his head

“wish you could have told me this before so i could have prevented all this panic” he said making you feel really guilty

“sorry! it just never came up before” you say flexing your regenerated arm, seeing if it felt right or not

You watched as he took off his sunglasses and handed them too you and turned towards Toji who was busy slaying a curse suguru threw at him

“Suguru and I will take Riko to Master Tengens place, im leaving this guy to you okay? Not like he’d win anyways, since after all-” he cut off what you were saying with a kiss before smirking

“After all, Im the strongest”

[duskholland]

I'll Take Care of You | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re a med student who falls into the habit of patching up Spider-Man

wc ↠ 4k

warnings ↠ some descriptions of injury (but nothing very graphic because I am a wimp), light swearing, fluff

a/n ↠ based off a request I had for a doctor/patient fic with Peter. I didn’t want to do that exact dynamic, so I put a spin on it and had some fun with it! I hope you enjoy, anon! any feedback would be gratefully received :’))

It’s 11pm on a chilly October night, and you’re hunched over one of the high wooden benches in your university’s lab. The only light in the room comes from the lamp you’re settled beside, and you’re completely lost in thought as you practice your running stitches on a rather beaten and bruised banana. You can’t quite seem to get it right, and with each failed attempt at securing an even stitch, you find yourself growing more and more frustrated. You’re about to pack it in and call it a night when there’s a loud crash behind you, and you spin around to see the shady figure of someone attempting to break into the lab.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. Your heart rate spikes and your mouth runs dry, fear replacing your irritation as you watch a dark stranger jimmy open the window at the other side of the lab. You freeze, eyes wide in fear, and cower back as the person topples through the window, cursing lowly. They scramble to their feet, brushing themselves down, and when they take a step towards the centre of the room, your eyes light up with terrified recognition. “Spider-Man?!” You exclaim.

It might be dark in the lab, but that doesn’t prevent you from making out the red and blue lines of the familiar spidersuit. You didn’t think it was possible to be even more shocked than you were, but then the figure stumbles towards you and crashes to the ground, and you realise the darker spots on the suit are patches of blood.

“Help me…” Comes a high, quivering voice.

Shaking like a leaf, you tentatively approach the figure. He’s curled up in a ball on the floor, and you grab a handy first-aid kit as you crouch beside him. The darkest patches seem to be around his torso, but you’re not sure how to access that without harming the suit. As if sensing your predicament, the man reaches up and presses a button on his neck. You gasp lightly as the entire torso section of his suit separates itself and dissolves into nothing, leaving you facing the exposed, clammy skin of New York’s favourite hero. Your eyes quickly identify his source of pain, and you find yourself wincing as you see the issue: there are several shards of glass impaled in his side, and they’re preventing his body from regenerating and healing. You know you’ll need to remove them.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, steeling yourself. You quickly unzip the kit and pull out a pair of tweezers, some disinfectant, and a roll of bandages. You try to keep your voice as level as possible as you speak to the man. “You’ve got some glass stuck in your side,” you say calmly. “I’m going to pull them out and disinfect the wound. It, uh, it’s probably going to hurt, and I’m really sorry, but it could get infected if I leave them in.”

Spider-Man manages a breathless, “okay,” which you take to mean you can start working.

Trying to still your shaking hands, you press one palm to his chest as the fingers of your other hand wrap around the tweezers. You manage to get a grip on the larger shard of glass and slowly pull it from the wound. The hero tenses and curses, but he stays still, allowing you to quickly and safely remove the piece. Once the first one is out, you grow more confident and manage to clear the others within the minute. After inspecting the wound and deciding there’s nothing left in there, you drag a ball of cotton wool soaked in disinfectant over the gash. 

“That’s you,” you remark. Your forehead has a line of cool perspiration over it, and you feel a wave of intense relief pass through you as you finish bandaging his side. You sit back and lean against a wooden bench, a deep sigh passing through your lips. 

Spider-Man looks down at his side, the erratic movements of his chest slowly calming. It’s for the first time that you’re able to properly look at him, and you find your heart beating a little faster in your chest as your eyes make out the shadowed lines of his abs. 

“Thank you, uh…”

“Y/N,” you supply.

You can sense the smile beneath the mask. “Thanks, Y/N,” Spider-Man finishes. He scoots himself back so he’s also leaning against a wooden bench, his body facing you. “I usually have to do that myself.” 

A warmth tickles at your cheeks as you push your hair back and away from your face. “You don’t have, like, a team of people to do that for you?” 

Spider-Man laughs, his voice light and airy. “Not exactly,” he replies. “I mean, I probably could if I wanted to, but I work better alone.” 

Your lips curl into a frown. “Alone?” You echo. “Isn’t that kinda dangerous?” 

Spider-Man shrugs. “I guess,” he says, voice drawling. “I’ve made it this far, though, so I must be doing something right.” 

You laugh gently. “Yeah, right,” you tease. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve passed out and woken up with a nasty infection.” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” he says, raising his hands innocently. He tilts his head to the side. “What are you doing here, anyway? No classes run this late.” 

It’s your turn to feel a little embarrassed. “Oh, uh, I’m a first-year med student. Sometimes I stay back late to practice some of my sutures.” You point up to the desk and where a pile of your abused, half-stitched bananas sit. “It’s the only time I can get some peace and quiet.” 

He surprises you by nimbly climbing to his feet and walking over to your workstation. As he moves, he presses a button on his neck again, and his suit closes over his chest. You find yourself frowning as the suit hides the rippling muscles of his back, and you quickly clear your throat to suppress that particular thought. You get up and join him, lingering a little behind.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He turns to look at you, and you know from the way the suit’s mask twitches that he’s smiling. “Med student, you say?” 

You nod. “Yeah. So far I only know the basics, but it feels good to be able to give back to people.” 

Spider-Man nods. “I know what you mean.” 

A silence falls between you both, and you lean down to grab a scrap piece of paper. You quickly scribble down your number before passing it to him, the hero accepting it cautiously. 

“Take it,” you plead. “Just in case you ever need anything. I live just off campus, and I’m usually awake at night. If you ever decide you need a medical squad, I’m your guy, alright?” Your lips pull into a smile as he pockets the paper.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. He takes a few tentative steps back, looking at the window he entered through. “I should go. City to save, and all that. But… I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me tonight. Thank you.” 

You manage a brave smile as you urge him towards the window, pretending it doesn’t shatter your dreams to bid farewell to the hero you know you’ll likely never see again. “See you around, Spider-Man. Stay safe!” 

And he raises a hand in a quick wave goodbye before hopping from the window and disappearing into the night sky, leaving you, a messy lab, and a thousand thoughts behind. 

You don’t hear from him for three months. 

Over those long, twelve weeks, you start your first placement at the local hospital and soon become too busy to feel sad at his lack of contact. But still, occasionally, you’ll catch yourself with a dullness rounding out your heart as you think of the way he’d taken your number and since ignored you. A part of you is grateful he hasn’t needed you, but another is sad you only spent one night with him. Spider-Man has always been a bit of an idol to you, and the realisation that you’ll never see him again is a tough one to come to terms with.

It’s mid-January and 1.32am when your phone vibrates on your nightstand. You groan as you turn over, your body shifting beneath your rustling sheets as you blindly bat at the table before your fingers close around the device. You pull it in close, silently begging you’re not being called in to work a spontaneous night shift, and lazily force your eyes open as you read the texts. 

[Unknown] hey where do you live ???

[Unknown] it’s spider-man

[Unknown] I need you

[Unknown] help

Suddenly you’re wide awake, and with trembling fingers, you quickly attach your location and send it off. You jump from your bed and turn on your bedroom light as you pull a hoodie around your torso. Luckily you live alone and have your own comprehensive first aid kit, otherwise, you know you’d be fucked. 

You wait for about three minutes before there’s a sudden, loud knock on your bedroom window. Your heart catches in the back of your throat as you squeak loudly, spinning around to see a blurry figure behind the pane. You hurry over and quickly unlock the window, and jump out of the way just in time to avoid the very heavy, and very wet figure of Spider-Man as he rolls into your room, collapsing in a heap in the middle of your carpet. He’s groaning - loudly - and this time, he appears to have dislocated his shoulder. 

“Pop it back in,” he whines, voice pulled tight with stress. He manages to sit up, hunched over as his good hand clutches at his shoulder. “Oh my god, I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Calm down,” you manage, gulping. Luckily for him, you’ve just finished a rotation in orthopaedics, so you aren’t completely in the dark about how to help him. “Take a deep breath, Spidey.” You push his hand away from his shoulder and replace it with your own. “I’ll count you down. 3, 2, 1-” 

He curses, expletives rolling down his tongue as you carefully, but decisively, pop his shoulder back into the socket. A sickening crunch fills the air, but a moment later, his entire body seems to relax. He sighs and slumps back. 

“Thank you so much,” he manages, voice sounding a little weak. “I tried to do it myself but apparently that just made it worse.”

Your eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, that’s a terrible idea.” You pull yourself to your feet and quickly help him up, depositing the hero on your bed. “I’ll go get you some water, or something. You look terrible.” You don’t have to see his face to know that beneath the suit, the man is bruised and exhausted. His posture alone speaks volumes as he sits curled over on the edge of your bed, his head falling forward to rest in his hands.

When you return with a glass of water and a bar of chocolate, he lets you sit beside him as he gratefully devours them. To your surprise, the suit parts at his mouth and exposes the thin lines of his pink lips, letting you see his cheesy grin as he smiles at you.

“Always coming to my rescue, Y/N,” he says, voice a little stronger just after a square of chocolate. “Thanks.” 

“It’s alright,” you reply. Suddenly you become very aware of the large, sagging bags beneath your eyes and the way you’re sure your hair is sticking up all over the place. “Anything for New York’s best.”

He chuckles slightly. Once he’s done with the water and the chocolate, he places both the glass and the wrapper on your bedside table and collapses back on your bed with a soft thump. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing gradually growing slower. “How’s college?” 

You shrug. “Busy,” you explain. “I’m in the hospital most days, learning how to do stuff. Never thought it would be so demanding, but it feels good to be able to make someone feel better.” 

“You should get extra credit for helping Spider-Man,” he ponders, voice quiet but sweet. 

You laugh. “It’s not exactly been difficult to help you, so far. I can handle a dislocated shoulder and a few bits of glass.”

“Oh, so you want me to be more injured next time I visit you?” You can practically feel the smirk in his voice as your face heats up.

“No! Absolutely not. I don’t mean that at all.” 

Spider-Man’s laugh warms your heart. “I know what you meant.” He sits up with a sigh. “Your bed is so comfy, Y/N.” 

“Help yourself,” you tease.

He laughs again as he carefully rises to his feet, rolling around his shoulder as if testing its capabilities. “Feels as good as new,” he says. “Thanks, Doc.” 

“Any time,” you reply. You stifle a yawn, and Spider-Man crosses his arms over his chest.

“Get some sleep,” he orders sternly. He hops over to your window and wrenches it open easily. “Thanks for the water, and the chocolate, and the life-saving,” he adds, already with a leg swung out of your window.

“Bye, Spiderman,” you say. The smile fades from your lips as he disappears once more, closing the window behind him with a quiet thud. But the grin quickly springs back as you realise he might contact you again, now he knows where you live, and you can’t help but find a little comfort in that thought. 

Over the next few months, Spider-Man visits you semi-regularly. He has you text him your rotation schedule so to ensure he never bothers you when you’re busy at the hospital, and that alone causes your heart to warm to him even more. It’s always small things he visits for: bullet wounds, dislocated joints, grotty injuries. Things that would seriously harm any normal human, but since it’s Spider-Man, they only graze him. You fix him up and then send him on his way, and that’s it, simply. A fleeting encounter and then he’s off. 

And it goes on like this for a while, until a warm evening in May. You’re sat cross-legged on your bed as darkness falls across the city, curled up with a nice book as you enjoy your day off from college. You feel calm and collected, and you’re about to light a candle and crawl into bed when there’s a loud banging on your window and you startle. 

You stare outside, but there’s no one there. It’s dark, so you put your book down and tentatively creep over to the window, confused as to the source of the noise. Curiously, you pull up the window, and that’s when you hear Spider-Man’s familiar groans, and you look down to find him crumpled in a heap on your fire escape. Instantly you’re filled with dread. 

It’s very difficult to actually get the hero into your apartment, but you manage to haul through your window eventually. You set him on the floor where he lies motionless, his breaths shallow and pained, and your blood runs cold as you take in the state of him. You crouch down beside him, first aid kit in hand, and find yourself at a loss of where to start. His suit is covered in lacerations and dark, bloody marks, but you don’t have access to him at all.

Just as you’re beginning to despair, you remember the buttons on his neck and carefully reach up. You don’t know which ones to press, and you certainly don’t want to betray him by accidentally removing his face mask, but when he releases another pained groan, you just push at a few random buttons. The suit deflates and retracts from his chest and lower half, leaving him in his gloves, face mask and underwear, but luckily exposing all the areas you need access to.

You survey the damage and feel despondent. He’s been very badly injured, and you’re terrified you won’t be able to help him. But that fear is quickly replaced by a determination as your brain shifts into doctor mode, and your hands start working before your mind can even process what you’re doing. You start by applying pressure to some of the larger gashes on his chest, stemming the steady flow of deep crimson blood until it’s a weaker trickle, and you feel confident bandaging them in a tight white wrap. Then you clean out some of the smaller wounds and stick a few smaller plasters there. Once you’ve cleaned him up a bit, the damage doesn’t look so bad, and though his pale skin has the beginnings of some deep, yellowy-blue bruises forming, you don’t think he’s got any internal injuries.

“How are you doing, Spidey?” You manage, voice croaking hoarsely. 

Spider-Man groans softly. “I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore,” he quips, “But I still feel horrendous.” He pauses for a moment before grabbing at your hand. He’s still got gloves on, but you feel the tenderness in his touch as he squeezes your fingers gently. “Call me Peter,” he requests.

You nod as surprise settles across you. “You’ve lost a lot of blood but I think you’ll be okay, Peter. I don’t really understand how your body heals so quickly, but you’re looking stronger already. I think you just need to rest.” You glance out at the dark night sky. “You should stay here overnight.” 

To your surprise, he doesn’t disagree. “Okay,” he says instead. His grip on your hand tightens as he slowly tries to get up. You help him out as much as you can and quickly settle him on your bed. 

“I’ve got some clothes you can wear, wait.” You turn around and go to rummage through your dresser, pulling out a spare t-shirt. You toss it to the bed, and when you’re back by his side, he’s slid it over his chest. He looks very odd, sitting on your bed, your t-shirt on his upper half, his boxers on his lower, and a mask on his face, but at this point, you just accept it. “I’ll go crash on the couch. Yell if you need-”

“No, no. That’s not right,” Peter interrupts. You can tell he’s frowning. “You can, um, stay here, if you want. With me. In here.” 

Your face shifts into a surprised o. “Oh, no, really, I… You should have space to spread out,” you say. You can’t ignore the way your heart beats deeply against your ribcage at the idea of cosying up against the hero. 

“Please?” He asks, voice sweet. “What if I suddenly crash in the night? Or start bleeding out? How will I live if my doctor isn’t here to help me?”

You roll your eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” But you walk over to him anyway and help him settle into your bed. You flick off your light and shut your window, and then you tentatively climb into the other side of your bed, slipping down until you’re beneath the covers, the warm figure of Spider-Man beside you. You’re tense, and for a moment you just lay there, breathing unevenly, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the fuck you ended up in this position.

“I’m, um… I’m gonna take off my mask,” comes Peter voice, quiet, but still loud enough for you to hear.

“What?!” You exclaim. You turn over on your side so you face him, your eyebrows pulling towards your forehead. “Why would you want to do that?” 

He shrugs, his slim fingers knocking up against his neck. “It’s dark,” he reasons. “I trust you. And honestly, I’m feeling kinda delirious and this thing can be a bit hard to breathe through.” 

You swallow deeply and watch carefully as Peter slowly pulls the mask up, up, up. It rolls up over his chin, his mouth, his nose, and his eyes, and with each feature it reveals, you find yourself holding your breath even more. Because it’s dark, in your room, but it’s not dark enough to hide his face, and you realise in a terrifying moment that he trusts you - Spider-Man trusts you - with his most hidden secret: his identity. And that makes you feel incredibly special.

“Peter…” You whisper, voice escaping into the air. Your eyes trace all over his face as he flings the mask aside. He’s got lovely dark, wispy hair, that stands up madly in all directions, and deep, caring brown eyes that watch your face intently. Your gaze shifts to his nose, and you smile as you notice it sits a little wonkily to the side, and then you find the air being pulled from your lungs as your eyes settle on his perfect, parted lips. 

He’s beautiful. Utterly, completely, beautiful, and you really wish he’d kept the mask on, because he’s made it very hard for you to lie there as your lips quirk into a smile and your heart races in your chest, and just do nothing.

But then he does something.

With a shaky hand, Peter reaches up to cup your cheek. He shuffles closer, his musky cedar-wood scent filling your nostrils as he places his head on your pillow. His long, roughened fingertips move over your cheekbones, scattering trails of warmth over your skin as he gently caresses your face, his eyes gentle and loving. “Thank you for always looking after me, Y/N.” His breath fans out across your features, drawing a warmth to your face. 

You swallow deeply, subconsciously nuzzling your cheek into his hand. You stretch out your legs and they tangle with his, and excitement rushes through your veins as his other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer. Your foreheads are practically pressed together now, the warmth of his body heat surging through you as you gaze into his eyes. “I’ll always look after you, Peter,” you promise, voice soft and sweet. “I care about you.” 

The tip of his nose brushes against yours softly. “I care about you too, Y/N. So much.” His eyes flicker shut, his long, feathery eyelashes falling to a soft rest at the top of his cheeks. You follow suit, and with your eyes closed, it’s as if everything else is amplified: his tender touch on your cheek, his warm hand wrapped around your waist, his legs tangled with yours. You find yourself straining closer, desperate for more. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, finally.

“Of course.”

And then his lips are on yours, moving softly against your mouth. It’s tender at first, barely even a touch, but as you push back against him, it grows stronger, like a small fire gradually building heat. You reach for his figure and gently wrap your hands around his waist as you kiss him deeply, clinging to him, longing for him, enjoying the feeling of coming home as your lips move together. It’s soft, and warm, and perfect, and it seems to span an infinity as you kiss him in the dark, bundled up beneath the blankets together. 

He pulls back after a few perfect minutes, his forehead pressed flush against yours as he pants for breath. “I love kissing you,” he murmurs. “I love being with you, Y/N.” 

You drag a hand up through his soft brown curls, a permanent smile hanging from your lips. “Feel free to kiss me as much as you’d like,” you mumble. 

He presses another sweet kiss to your lips and holds you close. “Oh, I fully intend to,” he promises. Then he drags his mouth to your forehead and leaves a scattering of light kisses to your hairline, and you relax back into his arms, a sense of fulfilment blossoming through your chest. He’s warm, and soft, and you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, bundled up in Spider-Man’s arms, drifting off into a gentle slumber. And as he presses a final kiss to the back of your head, you know he feels the same way, too. 

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

I am so living for your angst right now, if you're feeling up tonite, could you do something where the boys poly neglect their mate, she breaks away from them and finds someone new and despite the boys reealizing shes distanced, they try to claw their selves back in, it doesn't work? Or it can be a makeup type thing, I'll leave that up to you

Okay, so this is definitely gonna be angsty. Also, I’m using the “someone new” to basically include Michael in this. Sorry not sorry. I hope you enjoy!!

Exploring My Options (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader, Michael x Fem!Reader) fic

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 2540

They hadn’t meant to neglect you. They really hadn’t. You had been with them for so long, they’d just become too used to you. You were a constant background, and, usually, at least one of them would be paying attention to you. Not that night, however. But, then again, this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

You were used to them flirting with other women. Even sleeping with them. How could you not be? You all had to eat, and pretty, young girls were easy pickings for your boys. Just like drunk assholes were for you. You knew that they hadn’t meant to ignore you. If you brought it to their attention, there would be a flurry of looks and blame. David would probably look at one of the blondes, and there would be a quick exchange of, 

“Wasn’t it your turn tonight?” Or Dwayne would apologize and stick by you until the two of you had to feed. Paul might even drag you away for some attention, some ‘loving’ of your own. Marko might tease you and tell you to cheer up. He’d say,

“Is someone jealous, babe?” With his usual smile etched across his face. It would be over as quick as it had happened, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up to them. Pointing it out. Why did you have to? You’d done it before, yet it always seemed to happen again. So, instead, you decided to see how long it would last. That had been two hours ago, and now you were starting to get pissed. You left their sides, secretly hoping that one of them would notice the fact that you had completely left. But none of them called after you. Not one of your mates seemed to care.

It made tears prick in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. Whatever. It was fine. It wasn’t like you had been with them for nearly half a century. If they wanted to focus more on their food, they could. The bastards. 

Anger was brewing inside you with each step you took away from the four. The farther you wandered, the more it hurt. Whenever you felt a brush of fingertips or heard a voice similar to theirs, part of you sparked. But, when you looked over your shoulder and none of them were there, it was snuffed out just as quick. It had been three hours in total. You’d been away from them for hours, and none of them seemed to notice. Finally, your heart started to crack. 

Could they really forget you this easily? Could they go on same as always without you there? As if you’d never been there at all? Did any of them even care about your bond? 

You could feel tears brimming your eyes, and you had to quickly wipe away a stray tear. You didn’t want to cry in public, and if you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. So, you turned towards the nearest distraction. There was a live show playing right on the beach. Usually, Paul would take you. But that was only when some heavy metal band was playing. The guy on stage had a saxophone and was oiled up so much it was almost comical. But there was electricity in the air, and it was the opposite of what was settling inside your still, cold heart. So, you descended down into the sand and wormed your way into the crowd.

You were used to catching attention. It was just what happened. Usually, it’d be a drunk surf-nazi who was more content with just fucking your brains out instead of actually finding out your name. But a boy, one that you’d never seen before, was staring at you. You caught his eyes. They were blue, like two of your lovers. But not ocean or crystal like their’s were. They were dark, and almost grey. His hair was curly and brown, and his jaw was angular and square. You didn’t have a single boy like him. He smiled at you, but you didn’t smile back. Instead, you turned and walked out of the crowd.

You hadn’t meant for him to follow you, but there he was. You knew you were heading back towards the boys. You could feel their pull, your bond guiding you back to them. But, perhaps, you didn’t walk as quickly as you could’ve. You knew he was getting closer, and you only slowed just a little bit more. So, he was right behind you. A hand grabbed your wrist, but only to grab your attention. It dropped the minute you looked over your shoulder, and you saw the boy from earlier. You had been wishing for one of your boys to do the very same the entire night, and the action made you decide something. If your boys were so concerned with their meals, then you’d amuse yourself with other pleasures just the same. 

“Hi. What’s your name?” He asked, and you gave him a small smile. You gave it to him, and he quickly supplied his own. “I’m Michael.” After only a short conversation, he was leading you to his bike. It wasn’t too far away from where your boys were, and you knew that they were probably close by. All on their own set of wheels. You chuckled to yourself when you saw it. It reminded you of your boys, and, for a moment, you thought that he wasn’t so different from them. “You wanna grab something to eat?” He asked, and you smiled. You tilted your head, and you debated eating him. He was pretty. Almost unfairly so. It’d be a pity to waste such a face.

You felt a mental tap, and you didn’t have to look to see where it’d came from. The boys had noticed your absence, and who you were with. You shut it out. Shut them out. If they wanted you, they should have done something about it already. Now, you had someone else to amuse yourself with.

“I already ate, but you said you’re new, right? Maybe I could show you around Santa Carla.” You offered, and he gave you a wide smile. It was petty, you knew. You were telling the others exactly what you planned on doing with this boy. He wasn’t a meal, at least not tonight. He got onto his bike, and said,

“That sounds great.” And then there was a roar of bike engines all around you. You rolled your eyes when you heard David’s voice behind you, and you gave him a flat look. He tilted his head and asked,

“Where you goin’, y/n?” He asked, and the same anger from before flared up. Oh, he had nerve. He’d ignored you, all of them had, for practically the entire night and, now, he was interrupting you? You frowned at him. David didn’t scare you, none of them did. You were their mate. The only one that had to worry was Michael.

“For a ride. David, this is Michael. I was gonna show him around.” You said, and your boys didn’t seem pleased. They had circled his bike, preventing him from driving off. Even so, he reached for your hand and quietly said,

“Let’s go.” And you gave the others a pointed look. David frowned, as did the rest. Well, except Paul. He had an easy smile on his face, but his eyes were sharp. Trained on the brunette, and sizing him up.

David called your name and raised his brows. You knew what he was doing, and you could hear his voice in your head. What do you think you’re doing? He asked. You gave him a small smile, and you tilted your head. Exploring my options. You replied, and you gave Dwayne a look. You silently told him to move his bike, and his face hardened. Dwayne stared at the other brunette, and then he looked at David. David was their leader, but you were their mate. The only girl in their pack. It gave you a certain unspoken power, to hold all of their hearts in your hand. None of them ever wanted to upset you, but that was exactly what they had done. Silently, Dwayne moved his bike to the side, giving Michael barely enough room to leave from where they had trapped him. There was a flurry of thoughts in response, but Dwayne stared at you. He knew that if they stood in your way, you’d only widen the gap that had developed between them. As angry as David had been in all of your heads, you knew that he knew the same.

It’s why Michael wasn’t dead the next night, or the night after that, or the night after that. They didn’t know what you were doing, but you were giving them a taste of their own medicine. If they didn’t want to pay attention to you, then you didn’t have to pay attention to them. It didn’t matter who you arrived with. You always left the boardwalk with Michael. He was sweet. He reminded you of when you and your boys had first started dating. He was completely enamored with you, and he followed you around like a stray dog. He begged for any scraps of attention, and his devotion would always make a smile creep across your face.

Your boys were becoming restless. David was tightening his grip even time you drifted further away. He was determined to keep you, but he let Michael have you in the meantime. He was going to wait until you got bored or hungry. A more arrogant part of him thought that it would be over soon, but that certainty became more and more fragile the longer he lasted. He was becoming angry, and he had once made a comment about ‘turning him if you like him so much’. But you knew David would like nothing less. Instead, he settled for icy glares and sharp words in passing.

Paul was impulsive. He tried to draw you back with affection. He kissed you longer and harder before you left the cave, and his attention barely left you. You were the one that always left them. He held your hand ever so tightly before he was forced to drop it, and he practically dragged you to your nest every time you came home reeking of the blue-eyed brunette. You never did anything with Michael, but it drove him just as insane as if you did. He’d scent mark you for hours, and he didn’t try to hide his displeasure when you didn’t return the gesture. He whispered, 

“Why are you doing this? Don’t you want me anymore?” But you’d always assured him the same way he had assured you. You told him that he was your mate, that you’d never not want him. But you knew how empty those words felt on that side of them. How they barely helped.

Dwayne was a silent storm. He watched every move Michael made. He watched how you barely entertained them. He was silent, and he never made a comment to him. Instead, he’d kiss you before you left. Always on the forehead. It was a silent reminder, to both you and Michael. You were his. You were theirs. He’d tilt your chin up afterwards. He was waiting for the day that you would lean up, press a kiss to his lips and finally decide to end whatever game you were playing. Waiting for the same exact day that David was. He’d stare down at you, but he wouldn’t even speak to you over your mental link. When you slipped out of his grasp, he let you.

Marko could barely stand this. He wouldn’t get off his bike when Michael approached to draw you away. He’d grip the handlebars so hard you were sure one day he was going to break them. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were alight with anger. He glared at Michael, almost just as fiercely as David did. You’d heard his thoughts on multiple occasions. Just say the word. He’d thought once, and you’d given him a glare right back. He’d scowled the moment your eyes met, and he’d clicked his jaw before he’d driven off. He was the most hotheaded of the four, and he would do something you’d make him regret if he lost his temper.

They had no intention of letting you go, and they each tried to claw their way back in. They tried to win you back by letting you do what you wanted. When you failed to grow bored, they took Pauls route. They layered on the affection, even if their growing anger tainted it. Finally, after nearly four weeks, Marko snapped. He kicked over a lit barrel, spilling the flames onto the cave floor. You hadn’t even gone to the boardwalk yet.

“That’s it! I’m killing him.” He said, and he headed straight for the entrance of the cave. As if he was going to do it as soon as possible. You snatched his wrist and he ripped it right out of your grasp. It had been the tipping point for the both of you. Words had been screamed between you, and the others didn’t know whether to join or stay out of it. They decided that was their own choice to make. Dwayne ended up being the only one sticking to the sidelines as the four of you screamed at eachother. It had taken hours for the fighting words to finally be put aside and for them to get out why you were doing this. 

You’d felt ignored. Not just that night but several nights for years. It had been growing. A doubt that had wormed it’s way into your heart and head. That night had just been particularly bad. That night had just been your tipping point. You hadn’t even slept with Michael, barely grazed the tip of the iceberg of what they’d done with other women. You wanted someone that would pay attention to you. Someone that followed you around like you were everything they ever wanted. You admitted it as sobs escaped your throat, and you pushed them away when they tried to hold you close. They ignored your attempts, and you were pulled into a hug by all four of them. You tried to struggle, tried to stay mad. But it was useless. Their scent always calmed you, and you’d barely gotten to hold or be held by them in the past few weeks. You relaxed and sobbed, and David held you to his chest. They each whispered soft words to you, and your chin had been lifted to press even softer kisses to your lips. Words of assurance and affection had been passed between all five of you. How you would never truly leave them, and how they only ever wanted to come back to you.

They didn’t bother taking you to the boardwalk that night, and the next time they did you’d convinced them not to slaughter Michael.

“You know, he really isn’t that bad. You might even like him.” You told them, and they all scoffed and rolled their eyes. Yeah, sure, they would.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

what did the chickadee and phoenix say to the hybrid?

this was supposed to be a short snippet,,,,,,, anyway, Lydia meets the Maitlands but make it the ~wing au~

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

  “Greeting ghosts,” Said the strange little fledging that entered the attic. “I am Lydia Deetz. Do not be afraid.”

  “Why aren’t you afraid of us?” Barbara asked.

  “Because you aren’t scary,” Lydia said. “I mean, look at me in comparison.” She spread her sagging wings (did she ever lift them?), and Barbara realized there were four of them. “I’m probably the freakiest thing to ever walk among the avians. You got competition.”

Realization dawned on Barbara, but Adam got to it first.

  “You’re a hybrid!” Her husband yelled, nearly flinging his sheet right off of him when he pointed to Lydia.

  “Adam!” Barbara scolded.

  “No, it’s okay,” Lydia said. “I prefer the term ‘hybrid’ over ‘mutant’ and ‘monster.’”

  “I was gonna say it’s rude to point,” Barbara said, pushing Adam’s hand down.

  “Ah,” Lydia nodded. “But yes. I am a hybrid. In the blood. Unfortunately.”

She spread her wings in a mock bow to them, and Barbara could see veins of white riddling the insides of the upper pair. She then winced, fangs flashing in the dim attic light when she grimaced in obvious pain, and let her wings go limp. They landed in a heap on the ground, strewn out like scraps of ruined cloth.

  “Are you alright?” Barbara asked worriedly, feeling a flash of maternal instincts zip through her like lightning.

  “Fine,” Lydia answered before the question could completely leave Barbara’s mouth, as if it were normal for her to brush off her discomfort when around other people. She shuffled her feet and tilted her head at Barbara and Adam. “Why are you in sheets?”

  “We were trying to scare you,” Adam told her.

  “You’re not doing a very good job,” Lydia said. “What do you look like under there? Are you horribly disfigured?” Her shoulders lifted, but her big bat ears remained completely drooped. “Are you like me? May I see?”

Barbara and Adam took off their sheets. Lydia’s expression dimmed.

  “Oh,” Lydia seemed disappointed. “You’re pureblooded.” She sniffed. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Adam said. “I’m Adam, this is Barbara.”

  “Oh, woah,” Lydia’s eyes dilated hugely, like a cat that just saw its owner’s foot move under the blankets. “You’re so shiny.”

Barbara blinked, then realized Lydia was talking about her. Even in death, her feathers continued to glow like fire. She extended one of her wings to Lydia.

  “You can touch them, if you’d like.”

Lydia looked up at her in shock. “Really? You’re not afraid of me, like, contaminating you?”

  “No...”

  “Or infecting you with my ‘dirty blood’?”

  “No.”

  “Or ripping your wings out of your back like I’m a feral WingEater because I’m jealous of how pretty and normal you are and want to ruin all purebreds in an envious rage?”

  “No! Do people really say that stuff to you?!”

Lydia actually laughed. “Wow, you really haven’t met a hybrid before.” She shuffled her feet. “But-- I can really touch them?”

Barbara smiled warmly at her. “Of course, sweetheart.” She nudged her wing closer. “Go on. I promise I don’t have Drop Feather Fever.”

  “Even if you did, I don’t have feathers!” Lydia said, then reached out and brushed Barbara’s wing. Her touch was light and gentle, as if she were worried she may hurt her new friend, and her short, stubby claws tickled against the skin beneath the feathers. “Wow... They’re so soft! And warm!”

  “Yup!” Adam strode over, looking proud. “You, little bat-moth, are looking at a real Phoenix Avem! WAIT--”

Lydia leapt backwards and the mane of yellow-orange flannel moth fur around her neck and chest bristled like a startled cat.

  “YOU CAN SEE US?!” Adam yelled.

It was only then that Barbara realized that Lydia shouldn’t have been able to see her or Adam. She had been so distracted by the adorable fledgling that it hadn’t dawned on her at all.

  “Uhh,” Lydia’s fur settled. “Yeah?”

  “But we were told that the living ignore the strange and usual,” Adam said.

  “Well, perhaps it’s because I, myself, am strange and unusual,” Lydia said. “Also all of my internal organs are purple and I can’t have a period due to a ‘compromised reproductive system caused by faulty genetics,’ so I’m not exactly very far from the boat you’re rocking in.”

  “Trust me, sweetie, the no period thing is a blessing,” Barbara said.

  “Everything else is a curse, though,” Lydia said with a sad smile.

Barbara frowned at that, but before she could press on what she meant, Adam stepped in.

  “Okay, well, since you can see us, do you mind leaving and never coming back?”

  “Adam!” Barbara flared. She thought of not seeing this little girl again, and it made a cold pit open up inside of her and she couldn’t really explain why.

  “Not her,” Adam said quickly. “Her family!”

Lydia scoffed. “We’re not a family.” She sounded a touch offended. “We’re father, daughter, and Delia.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Barbara inquired, “Your mother, she...?”

Just when Barbara thought Lydia’s ears couldn’t droop any further, they somehow got even lower.

  “She... She’s dead...”

Adam grimaced. Barbara’s wings tensed against her back for bringing such a traumatic experience up.

The good news, though, was that the role of mother was up for the taking. And since Lydia clearly felt anything but a parental bond with that Delia woman, Barbara knew it was at good as hers.

She could feel the mammary feathers and nesting season hormones coming in already! Literally. She imprinted on Lydia when she touched her wing. That was her chick now.

  “Oh, honey,” Barbara murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Lydia shook her head, making her ears slap around her face. She gazed around the attic with sparkling eyes, as if she were holding back tears.

  “She would have loved this place,” Lydia said. “She was Vesper! Which, you know, explains,” She gestured to herself. “She would call me her ‘weird little moon,’ but it was never in a mean way. And we used to have our own little full moon festivals so I would grow up with proper Vesper traditions and culture! We would hang up all the blankets in the house on the trees and make these forts that we would burrow in and watch the moon from. She taught me how to properly pray to Valtiel and everything! And we would do the moon dances on the ground because I can’t fly, but she made the effort to learn how to for me. We couldn’t actually go to the festivals, though, because,” She gestured again. “She worried about me all the time and didn’t let me do a lot of things, but what we did do was amazing.” She then blinked out of her daze and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you talking about my mom.”

  “No, it’s okay!” Barbara assured her. “We don’t mind!”

  “Really?” Lydia tilted her head and her ears flopped over with the movement. “‘Cause my dad never wants me to talk about her. It’s basically against the law in the house. Among many things.” She raised her wings slightly and did a voice that was apparently supposed to be her cicada Cimex father, “‘Lydia, no talking about your mom! Lydia, no eating bugs, it’s weird and basically cannibalism! Lydia, no coming around me because even though I say I’m trying to change my views of you I still see you as an unrepentant monster who I fear will eat my throat out while I’m sleeping and it makes me guilty not because the way I think of you but because I fear of what you’ll do to society and I was the one who brought you into the world to wreak suck destruction on civilization!’”

Barbara and Adam stared at her in shock.

  “Dads, am I right?”

  “That’s…very concerning,” Adam said.

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly. “Everything about my existence is concerning, so…” Her face then scrunched up and she pressed her floppy ears against the sides of her head like she was trying to keep out a noise that Barbara and Adam’s Avem ears couldn’t pick up. “Oh, ow. Stop worrying so loudly! I’m okay! I’m, like, basically immune to it at this point!”

Barbara and Adam both blinked in confusion, but then Barbara understood.

  “You’re a mind reader.”

Lydia pulled her hands away and smiled slightly. “In the flesh.”

Barbara wondered what that was like--

  “It’s pretty cool, actually.”

--to hear everyone’s thoughts, all the different ways they thought about you and judged you, possibly pretending they liked you when really they hated your guts.

  “When you put it like that…”

  “You surprise me more and more, Lydia,” Adam said.

  “Better than scaring you,” Lydia said. “You guys are really cool. I like you. You’re probably the best thing about this stupid house.”

  “This house is not stupid!” Adam blustered. He grabbed Lydia by the shoulders, making them lurch and the moth fur bristle, and spun her around to him so he could scold her. “It’s a classic Victiorian-- OWW!!!”

Adam ripped away from Lydia as if he had touched fire, while Lydia shrunk away, instinctively wrapping her wings around herself. Adam shook his hands in the air while flapping his wings in obvious distress. 

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! What HAPPENED?” Adam yelped.

  “Sorry,” Lydia whispered. 

  “Are you okay?” Barbara asked her husband. He splayed his hands open for her, and she winced when she saw angry red blisters starting to form all across his palms. “Oh.”

  “It isn’t lethal!” Lydia said, and she sounded very meek compared to the snarky girl that had been talking a few seconds before. “Well, I don’t think it is… But you’re dead, so it’s okay! The pain will go away within a few hours!”

  “HOURS?!” Adam squawked, as if he were a parrot and not a chickadee. He made a woeful noise. “Just cut my hands off!”

Lydia’s ears drooped even lower. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Maitland. I should have told you.”

  “That your really soft fur is EVIL?” Adam said, and Barbara knew he was playing with Lydia, now. However, the little fledgling didn’t seem to realize because she still looked anxious.

  “It’s-- I take after the moth my Cimex side is from. A southern flannel. The worms have venomous hairs, so…” Lydia fluffed her collar of fur. “I do, too. And they sting pretty badly. But not all the time! Only when I bristle them. Thank the goddesses.” She shuffled her feet. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” Adam assured her. “A little blistering never hurt anyone. Oh, look, boils! Wonderful!” He laughed. “It builds character!”

Lydia cracked a small smile at that. When her nervousness didn’t recede, Barbara opened one wing to her, beckoning her to come closer. After a moment of shock and delight, gauging if it were a trap, Lydia skittered over and burrowed herself into Barbara’s feathers.

She fit perfectly. 

[beyoncesdragon]

Zip up | knj

(not my gif, credit to the owner)

→ Pairing: Boyfriend!Joonie x Reader

→ Summary: Joonie has a very interesting zipper on his jacket or how Jimin and Jungkook literally cannot knock whilst you're on a FaceTime call with your boyfriend. 

→ Warnings: FLUFF, and boyfriend Joonie and that gif. thats about it! Ah, Jimin makes his lil cameo at some point, so to everyone who does not like cheeky rice cake may proceed with precaution. (MY ENGLISH AND GRAMMAR)

→ Wordcount: 2k 

a/n: Happy Birthday Namjoon-ah! The amount of respect I have for this man…not describable. Thank you for everything, Joonie. You are a true inspiration and light, our moon, you know? We love you and just…thank you so so much. Pinky promise that I will use you to love myself (I cried when I watched this lil speech. If you haven’t, watch it too!) and I hope you believe in yourself as much as I believe in you. Sarang-hae Namjoon-ssi, I purple you forever (and I will never shut up about the dimple, no).

 Masterlist | BTS Masterlist 

“But can you zip it up all the way?” you asked, leaning towards the screen a bit. Your boyfriend couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, tilting his head slightly. “Wouldn’t you want to know, jagi.” You shrugged innocently, shovelling another mouthful of chapchae in your mouth, eventually starting to giggle when you caught his eyeroll.

“Oh come on, oppa, zip it up.” Namjoon snorted lightly, leaning back in his stool, fingers toying with the zip fastener of his black jacket. He looked awfully cuddlable like this, messy hair hidden underneath the hood and with only the dyed tips peeking out from under the black fabric. You had to remember to ask him if you could borrow that one when he came back. Right now, however, you wanted him to finally make use of the zipper strips on the sides of the hood. They went all the way up to the top, so theoretically it would be possible to pull the zipper all the way up and over his face. And you really wanted Joonie to do this.

“I’d rather hear about your day, to be honest.” Namjoon proposed with a sly grin, giving you the most adorable puppy eyes through the screen.

“I did absolutely nothing today and fully embraced my deeply rooted laziness. No lectures, no errands to run, no nothing. I basically stayed in bed all day and waited for your call so I could see your breathtakingly pretty face.” The end probably came out more dramatic that you had intended to sound, but oh well. It made him laugh and that was all that mattered.

“Then why do you want me to cover it up, if you waited so patiently for so long?” he asked with a small grin, leaning towards the screen, mirroring you. “Well what do you think? Because I’ve had enough already!” you huffed, dramatically chewing on your fried noodles before almost choking on them. The pout that appeared on his face could’ve made Yoongi apologise. He then took it upon himself to turn his chair away from you slowly, soon facing the wall and couch behind him.

“Hey I am kidding.” You called out when he just stayed like this, even scooted away at one point. “Joonie? I was joking? Come back to me!” he reached towards something placed on the couch, and when he turned back around, he suddenly had a big VAN plushie on his lap.

“She is sick of my face, Van. Can you believe that? Of my face.” You snorted but he wouldn’t look at you.

Not even when you started (and failed) whisper-shout the lyrics of the truth untold he would look at you (he almost couldn’t help it though. The way you mimicked Jungkook’s breathy ‘But I still want you’ almost made him surrender) The quick curl of his lips was all of his amusement he showed.

“What do you think, should I break up first? I mean, the face is somewhat kinda important for-”

“JOONIE!” finally he broke his act and laughed, blowing a kiss into the camera. “Sorry. I know you could never get sick of that face.” He just stated, overly confident and with a proud grin. “You are spending too much time with Jin.”, was all you mumbled, fishing a single noddle from your bowl. “Speaking of Jin, how is he? And the other boys?” Joon patted the plushie on the head before mindlessly throwing it over his shoulders, somewhat aiming for the couch. To his luck it landed precisely on the backrest and stayed there without knocking something over.

“They are doing great. We’ve been working on some music together, Jungkook is even learning to mix now. Slow progress but progress. I could actually show you something we’ve made so far…” his eyes had immediately started to sparkle of excitement, the topic music always cheering the man up. “Wanna hear the first few seconds of a new song? Like it’s only a demo version, nothing company approved or anything…” he asked whilst already typing quickly on his keyboard. “Sure…show me.” He hummed excitedly, giving you an eager smile. “I’ll show you. Ready?” you only nodded. When were you not ready for new music, produced by your boyfriend himself? There was nothing that made you feel prouder than that.

One demo turned into around five and somewhere along the way you had even managed it to convince him to finally pull the zipper up and over his face. Which was exactly why Jimin, who excitedly burst in without knocking, was faced with a vibing Joon, looking like a funnily formed ehomaki roll. The excitement widened eyes grew wider and the smile dropped and morphed into a kind of confused pout. “Namjoon-hyung I…what the hell?”

After a second of being frozen in place, Namjoon snapped around, his hands flying up to unzip his face immediately. He fumbled with the zipper for a second before he finally freed his face from his hood, cheeks red from embarrassment. You on your part were dying with laughter, having first choked up on your noodles at Jimin just barging in and now on your laughter. The expression of pure horror and embarrassment displayed on his face was peak comedy – at least for you.

“Can’t you, like, knock?” your boyfriend asked, scratching his neck uncomfortably whilst the sound of your laughter still sounded through the room. Jimin’s eyes snapped to Joon’s computer, finally seeing you and giving you an excited smile.

“Y/N-noona! How are you?” he grinned widely, stepping closer to the computer, completely ignoring his deeply embarrassed hyung. “Hello there, Jiminie, I am fine, thank you! How are you? Everything good?” you asked fondly, giving the younger a kind smile. “I am fine as well. Things have been less busy lately, I enjoy it. I am focusing on dance practice now again, some more demanding choreos…” he immediately informed you, kneeling down to place his arms and on the table, so he could comfortably talk to you. It was adorable. “I am happy for you! But you have not forgotten about food and sleep lately have you….?” Jimin laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, Ma’am. I slept eight hours today and I had breakfast and lunch.” He reported back with a salute, causing you to chuckle.

“Actually, Jin-hyung and I were cooking for the last few hours…Tong Dak! Though, it took us longer than we had expected BBQ chicken would take. However it was Jin’s fault, he burned the first load…”, you grinned softly. That sounded like something Jin would do. “and then Yoongi-hyung came and cussed him out for ruining the pan, before finishing the chicken by himself. I, oh, actually came to call for dinner.” He added with a glance at Namjoon who still looked uncomfortable. You chose to ignore it.

“Sounds nice…you could demonstrate your skills when I am around one day.” He immediately nodded with the excitement of a little child. “Would love to do that! But only if you tell me what you gave hyung to get him shimming like that. Is that what you guys do when you are alone?” you laughed out loud whilst Jimin dodged Namjoon’s hand.

If I knew how I did it, I would. But no, you just barged in at the right – or wrong – time.”, you replied with a small grin into Joons direction, “usually he isn’t all covered up like that.” Namjoon flinched at your words, jerking forwards as if to stop you from talking but the damage was already done. Jimin was on the floor laughing and so were you. Less because of what you said but more because the blush that covered Namjoon’s neck and cheeks had the intensity of a poppy petal. He looked like a little boy caught shoplifting at a candy store.  

“Yah, jagi! He doesn’t….Jimin, get out.” You only laughed, shrugging innocently before scrapping the last few noodles from the bottom of your bowl.

“Oh come on hyung, it’s not like I don’t know…” Jimin tried to argue, still laughing. “I swear, I will convince Yoongi to ignore you for the rest of the day if you don’t leave now.” Namjoon threatened and he looked serious and almost intimidating – if the blush wasn’t still as prominent as it was. Jimin’s confidence visibly wavered for a second, before he then confidently shook his head again. “You could never…”

“I have his camera somewhere in my room and a demo of his newest song on my computer. There is nothing I can’t get him to do by now.” Jimin’s face fell immediately and eyes grew huge. He made a beeline for the exit faster than Jungkook could say “easy peasy lemon squeezy” (and as matters stand, the boy was pretty damn fast at it already).

“Bye bye, Noona!” was all he yelled over his shoulder before the door closed. Namjoon couldn’t even meet your eyes. “You do know that I have a reputation to uphold, right?” he swallowed thickly, staring at the screen of his desktop.  “Had to uphold.” Was all you said with a teasing tone, laughing when he winced and looked away. “Look who is sick of my face now.” He snapped back around instantly, a pained – though clearly amused – look on his face. “I’m not…you are the absolute worst, do you know that jagi?” you grinned softly, leaning closer towards the camera. “I love you too, Namjoon-ah. Kissy.” He sighed, but his smile and eyes betrayed him. they were filled to the brink with love. You probably didn’t look any better.

“You’re right, I love you. Even though you destroy all sense of authority I have left in bangtan.” You laughed at that, winking cheekily. “Sorry for that. They would still follow you anywhere you go, you know? As would the rest of the world.” He smiled warmly, opening his mouth to reply, but got interrupted promptly by the sound of someone slamming open the door.

“Food is ready!” It was Jungkook this time. Namjoon only growled annoyed, not even turning around. “Can’t you folks knock?” Jungkook almost looked apologetic when his eyes found your face on the screen. “Sorry hyung…oh hey Y/N!” and gone was his apologetic face and tone, he now skipped closer to the computer, a sweet bunny smile on his face. He waved excitedly at you, whilst Namjoon groaned something along the lines of; “No respect for the elders”, and “oh no, not again.”  

You waved back, causing the youngest to smile even wider but before you or he could say anything at all, Namjoon decided to cut it off. “I am coming in an instant, Gukk. Let me say goodbye to my girlfriend, I’m with you guys in a minute.” Jungkook pouted but other than Jimin, wouldn’t question him. He just gave you a sweet wave before slipping through the open door again.

“Alright, jagi-“ Joon didn’t make it far; Jungkook’s head suddenly appeared behind him, a wide smile full of mischief on his face. “Hyung?” he asked, sounding as if he was innocence in person. “What?” the grin only sharpened.

“Can you zip up your hood for dinner too? Or when you walk in, at least?” Namjoon froze again, his face settling into an expression of pure and utter despair before he gave you a pained smile.

“Jagi…”, he reached down, taking off his slipper, his smile not wavering once, “I love you. Talk to you soon, I now have to set some things straight…” you laughed softly, blowing a kiss. “I love you too. See you later, babe. Don’t kill them all.” He nodded before his expression shifted completely. “Only one of them.”

The last thing you heard before he ended the call was a him yelling“Park Jimin!” at the top of his lungs and a sound that sounded suspiciously like Jungkook squeaking and the thump of a shoe hitting a wall.

--- ✩ thank u for reading ✩ ---

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - Part 1

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. This Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life. 

This story is obviously non-canon. It will include characters from multiple seasons; some of them having never met on the show. In this universe, Tara didn’t come back from Chicago. I’ve done this to get the story I wanted.

I’ve also decided to give the protagonist a name in this story. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it.

1

“Move, you goddamn piece of shit!”. My car had stalled just a few yards before a sign that read Welcome to Charming – our name says it all. So far it hadn’t been very charming at all. Multiple cars were passing me and blaring their horns. “Do you think I just decided to park here?”, I yelled at a white Honda, with a blonde behind the wheel. She gave me the finger in response. “Shit!”.

I heard a roar of engines behind me; and a leather clad man on a motorbike pulled up next to my window. “You found a hell of a place to break down, luv’”, he said, with a Scottish drawl. “Yeah, thanks. I hadn’t noticed”, I sneered. “Pardon me, I was just stating facts”, he smirked. I frowned. “Sorry. I’ve just had a long ass drive”, I mumbled. “Mind if we take a look at it?”, he asked. I gestured for him to go ahead; and stepped out of the tired, beat up car; that had been my home for the last 4 days – driving from Chicago, to my new home in the town I’d chosen by its name alone. Charming.

I needed something charming at this point in my life – the last few years having been chaos – so I’d thrown everything to the wind; and had basically run away from the city, when I’d applied for, and been offered a job at Charming Middle School.

Behind my car, two more mc’s were parked – one of them a tall bearded man who sent me a friendly smile; and the other a blonde, lean guy, wearing a white t-shirt and white sneakers. Interesting choice for riding a motorcycle, I thought. All three men had the same patch on their backs – a skull-headed reaper. The writing said Sons of Anarchy – California.

The scot had opened my hood, and was looking into the steaming entrails of my car. He let out a long whistle. “When was the last time you checked our oil, luv’?”. I decided to ignore his choice of nickname for me. “I have no idea. I just bought it a week ago; haven’t really done anything but drive it”. He smiled and shook his head. “Jackie!”, he called. The blonde man looked up; and took of his sunglasses – revealing a pair of piercing baby blues. “We’re gonna need the tow-truck”.

The blonde got off his bike, and joined the scot at the front of the car. “Shit”. He drew out the word, ending it with a full-on laugh. “Darlin’, you’ve killed it”. I sighed. “Great…”. “Were you going far?”, he asked. “Charming was my destination; but I didn’t even make it past the sign”. I ran my hand through my hair. “Shit!”.

Blonde guy called out to the bearded biker. “Ope! Call TM. Get Rat out here with the tow”. “We can’t leave her here, on the side of the road”, the third man answered. Blondie chewed his lip. “You up for a ride?”, he asked me. I was caught off guard. “What?”, I asked. “We’ll get your car back to our shop. You can wait there for it; and figure out your next step”. I shrugged. “Yeah, why the hell not”.

Blondie walked up to me and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson. Scottie here is Chibs; and the kind man calling a tow-truck for you, is Opie”. I took his hand and shook it. His grab on mine was firm, but gentle. “I’m Cat”, I said cautiously. He smiled brightly at me; a glint to his eyes that made me blush slightly. “Welcome to Charming”, he said. “Now, come on”.

He handed me his own helmet; and got on his bike; patting the seat behind him. I grabbed my purse from the front seat; leaving my keys on the left front wheel. Welcome to Charming, indeed, I thought, and got on Jacksons bike with him, looking for something to grab on to “You’re gonna have to hold on to me, Cat”, Jackson smirked. I put my hands on his waist – noticing his firm and muscular frame – and he started up the bike. The force of the engine between my legs made me jump a little; and I heard Jackson chuckle in front of me. “Don’t worry, I got you”. He revved the engine, and we rode in to town.

—

We drove into a big lot about 10 minutes later. I noticed a large amount of motorcycles; and more bikers clad in leather. They all wore the same patch as the three men I’d just met – though some said Nevada. There were two large buildings; one was an auto shop – Teller Morrow – and the other seemed to be some sort of a clubhouse.

Jackson halted his bike at the end of the line of motorcycles; seemingly a spot reserved for him. I climbed off, almost stumbling; and he grabbed my hand to steady me. “You good?”, he asked. I nodded.

A tall middle-aged woman, with an amazing rack, came out of the office of the auto shop. “Jax; Clays been looking for you”, she said. Jackson smirked, and backed his bike into his spot. “What else is new?”, he said. The woman kissed his cheek. “I’m picking up the kid in a few. You need anything at home?”. “Milk. And coffee”, Jackson answered. He looked towards me. “Ma; this is Cat. Her car stalled just by the edge of town”. The woman looked at me; her eyes enquiring, but mostly friendly. “The one Rat and Juice went out for?”. Jackson nodded.

She shook my hand. “Gemma Teller”, she said. “Cat Rose”, I smiled. “You’re the new teacher down at the middle-school”, she said – more a statement than a question. I nodded. “Yeah, I am. How’d you know?”. “Gem knows everything”, the biker named Chibs said; and kissed Gemma’s cheek. “Hi, mom”.

I chuckled. “You seem a little too young to be his mom”. “Around here, I’m everyone’s mom”, she answered. “Though my only biological kid, is the cheeky blonde you rode bitch with”. I took that as meaning Jax was her son. The cheeky blonde sent me a smile. “Gemma will take care of you from here on”, he said. “See you around, teach’”. I smiled in return; and Jackson walked towards the clubhouse.

I followed Gemma into her office. “What’s the Sons of Anarchy?”, I asked. “Sweetheart, stick around long enough, you’ll find out”, she said. “Coffee?”. “Yeah, thanks”, I smiled.

I didn’t see any of my new biker friends the rest of the day; as my car arrived not long after we did. A mohawked Latino named Juice, of all things; informed me that my cooler was shot; and I needed a completely new starter. None of this made any sense to me; as I didn’t know anything about engines – but looking at the costs of repairs needed to have the vehicle function again; I decided to sell it for scrap.

“Too bad, honey”, Gemma said. “I had one of those as a teenager”. “You wanna buy it?”, I grinned. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in it”, she answered, and lit a cigarette; offering me one. I accepted. “Juice; is Tig still selling his old chevy?”. “Yeah, he hasn’t gotten a buyer yet. I think it’s ‘cuz it smells like wet dog”. I shook my head. “I won’t be able to afford it; with or without the smell”. Gemma winked at me. “I’ll get a you a good deal; and you can make payments”. I smiled. “I’m gonna like this town”. “We all do”, she smiled back.

—

Gemma gave me a ride to the motel I was going to stay at, until I found a new place. I got my four boxes and two suitcases out of her trunk and backseat; thanking her for all her help. “It’s me who should be thanking you. The school had been looking for a good arts teacher for over a year”. “I’m taking over 6’th and 7’th grade English as well”, I said. She laughed. “Mrs. Bloom finally decided to retire, huh?”, she said. “She taught both me and Jackson”. “Wow…”, I grimaced. “I’m not that old”, she said. “That’s not…”, I began. “Just pulling your leg sweetheart”, she smiled. “See you around”. She drove off, and left me to settle in to my new temporary home.

I spent the evening scanning the newspaper for cheap rentals. Money was scarce; but I knew the motel needed to be short term – especially after noticing the thin walls inability to hide the sounds of my neighbors having kinky sex. Some woman kept screaming Yes, Daddy!; making it difficult to concentrate on my apartment-hunting .

In the evening; after ordering a pizza; I decided to take a shower. I let the water run for a bit; before stepping in – trying to ignore the metallic smell of it. Washing 4 days of roadtripping off my body; I finally felt clean enough to face my new situation.

I’d left Chicago in a hurry; leaving my furniture, and only bringing my most cherished belongings. I wanted to get as far away from the city as possible; but a ticket to Hawaii was out of the question on my teachers’ salary – and I wasn’t ready to go back to dancing at clubs. Most of my last cash had been spent on the now dead Ford; that I’d sold for scrap through TM.

Chicago wasn’t my home town; but I’d thought it was the place for me. I’d been proven wrong, when a relationship had gone wrong. Very wrong. I’d needed to get away from the guy in question; as his possessive nature throughout our relationship had ended up scaring me. Trying to get a restraining order hadn’t worked due to his own contacts within the court-system. I wanted a new life. Maybe Charming could be the base for that.

Stepping out of the shower; I wrapped myself in a towel. There was a knock on the door, and I went to open it. Outside stood Jackson; a grin the size of the county on his handsome face. “You’re not pizza…”, I said. “Not the last time I checked”, he chuckled. “You left behind some paperwork at TM”. I looked down at my lack of clothing. “I should get dressed”, I smiled. “Come on in. Sorry about the mess”. He stepped inside. “It’s fine, darlin’. You should see my place”.

I grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms, and a tank top from an open suitcase; and went into the bathroom. “Do you usually order pizza in just a towel?”, he called after me. “Only if the delivery-guy is really cute”, I called back. Shit… now you’re flirting with the biker. Good one, Cat. “I’ll have to change professions”, I heard him mutter.

I stepped back into the room, fully dressed. “What’s the paperwork?”, I asked. He handed me an envelope. “Just a signoff for the scrapping of the car”, he said. “It’s too bad. My mom had one of those back in the day”. “She told me”, I smiled. “Coffee?” He smiled. “Nah, sorry, I gotta run again”. “Too bad”, I said. Dammit! Stop, you idiot.

He chuckled. “It’s good to have some fresh blood in town. I hear you’re starting at the school. You’ll be teaching one of Opie’s kids. Ellie – sweet kid”. I signed the papers he’d handed me, and gave them back. “I’ll remember to give her good grades”, I said. “Yeah…”, he answered sadly. “She’s been through it. Her and Kenny both. Their mom died a year back”. “I’m sorry to hear that”, I answered earnestly. “Donna was a good mom. And a good old lady”, he said. “What’s that?”, I asked. “An old lady? Shit, you are new in town”, he smirked. I shrugged. “Just not used to biker lingo”, I winked. “I’ll have to get you used to it, then…”, he said with a smile. I chewed my lip, a rush of heat going through my body.

He remembered himself. “The car – the one you’re buying”, he said. “Tig will be down at the shop tomorrow night. You can pick up the keys then”. I exhaled; trying to calm down my budding crush on the gorgeous man in front of me. “Thanks. I’ll be there. 7 pm good?”. “We should be done with church by then”, he said. “Tomorrow’s not Sunday”, I answered. He chuckled. “Not that kind of church”. I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Biker lingo…”, I said. “Biker lingo”, he smirked.

We stood there for a while, both unsure what to say; before Jax broke the silence. “Tomorrow; it’s Gemma’s birthday. There’s gonna be a party at the clubhouse”, he said cautiously. “If you wanna stick around for a while…”. “Maybe”, I smiled.

“Yes Daddy! Slap that ass!”, we heard from next door. We both laughed. “If I’m not mistaken; Tig might be right next door. But it’s probably not a good time to disturb him”, Jackson said. “I’ll wait”, I agreed. “See you tomorrow?”. “I’m looking forward to it”, Jackson winked; and walked out the door; giving me a final grin; before closing it behind him.

Cat. You can’t have sex with the biker, I told myself. But the warm sensation streaming though me, told me I’d probably have a problem sticking to that, if I had the opportunity.

—

The next day I slept in; enjoying the feeling of being in an actual bed for the first time in days. I did some light shopping for groceries – the fridge in my motel room not being very big. The people I met seemed friendly enough, though a bit standoffish. I figured it was because I was new in town.

Walking back towards the motel; a group of bikers rode by – one of them being Opie. He lifted a hand in a wave at me. I noticed that the bikes were ridden almost in a procession; with a leader in front; and everyone else keeping to their assigned position in the group. It was led by a grey-haired man with a prominent jaw. He looked at me, and nodded. I nodded back.

Back in my room, I had a light lunch; and decided to figure out what the hell one wore for a birthday party at a biker club. I figured some skinny jeans and an off the shoulder, black t-shirt would have to do. Putting on my favorite necklace – a silvery hand with an eye in the middle; a Hamsa symbol – I let my hair hang lose; and put on a little makeup. Black cat eye; and red lips. It usually did the trick. You’re actually dressing up for the biker now, I smirked at myself.

I was early; so, I tracked down a coffee shop to sit and read a book. My shoulder bag usually had at least one volume in it. This week, it was American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I was completely concentrated on my book; when suddenly Chibs and a large curly haired man stepped in to the shop. “Well, look who we have here!”, Chibs smiled. “Bobby, this is the young lady who killed her car just outside town”. I grinned. “Thanks”, I said. “I needed a reminder of my bad mechanic skills”. “I aim to serve, madam”, the scot grinned. Bobby stuck out his hand. “Welcome to town, my lady”, he said; and kissed my hand chivalrously. “Careful Bob. VP’s got his eye on this one”, Chibs said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked. “Don’t worry about it”, Bobby grinned.

I took a sip of my coffee, and shook my head. “What are you doing here?”. “Coffee run for church. It was a long night”, Chibs winked. The man behind the counter handed over some coffees to Bobby; who pulled out his wallet. “Your money’s no good here”, the barista said. Bobby nodded. “How’s your mom?”, he asked. “Much better, thanks”, the man answered and smiled. “I’ll pay you back”. “We know you’re good for it, Gary”, Chibs said. He looked at me. “See you later?”. I nodded.

The bikers left the shop; and drove off towards TM. The barista walked up to me with my check. “Welcome to town”, he said warily. “Look… Samcro; they’re a part of this town; and they do a lot of good. But they’re in to some pretty bad stuff as well. Be careful”. He didn’t wait for an answer; but just went back behind his register. I frowned, and tried to wrap my head around his words. I paid Gary, and left the shop myself.

I decided to do some light sightseeing. It was Saturday; so most of the small shops closed early; but I made my way to the middle-school that would be my new place of work the coming Monday. The trek was a bit longer than I’d anticipated; so I was glad that I had a newish car set up for me. The building wasn’t large, but I figured it was large enough for the amount of kids in the area. The look of it gave me some peace of mind. It would be an easy start, I thought. And I was looking forward to it.

—

Walking back towards TM, I stopped by a florist who was closing up. I got a nice bouquet for Gemma, and walked into the auto-shop lot. The place was bustling with people. At least 20 bikes were parked in the lot; and everywhere people were shaking hands, and grabbing wrapped presents out of their cars. The men were all clad in leather; except for a man in a sheriff’s uniform; and the women were mostly wearing miniskirts and dresses – their boobs on display as much as possible.

I didn’t recognize any faces, and felt a bit anxious, before someone grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, darlin’”, Jax was beaming at me. He leant in and kissed my cheek; his stubble and short beard scratching my chin in a delicious way. “I’m glad you made it!”. “Yeah, me too”, I smiled. He took my hand, holding it confidently. “Come on. I’ll introduce you”.

We walked in to the clubhouse. It smelled like motor oil and whiskey, and the air was heavy with smoke. It should have put me off; but I was enjoying it. It reminded me of my former profession as a  dancer, and the kind of trouble I’d gotten in to then. Jackson let go of my hand, and put his own on my lower back, leading me to the bar counter. “You remember Opie”, he said; gesturing at the tall bearded man. With his helmet off, he was now wearing a hoodie, and had a beautiful blonde on his arm. Opie shook my hand and smiled at me friendlily. “This is Lyla”, he said softly, and gestured at the woman. “Nice to meet you”, she smiled. I thought I recognized her face from somewhere, but I couldn’t make the connection. “Cat”, I smiled, and shook her hand.

Jax led me on. “Chibs and Juice, you know as well; and I’m told you already met Bobby”. The men both nodded at me. “Then there’s Happy…”. A tall menacing man sent me a warm smile. “Piney; Opies dad”; Jackson said, gesturing at an elderly man with an oxygen tank hanging from his shoulder. Jackson looked at a scrawny looking guy, and a tall heavy man standing next to him. “Those are the prospects. They don’t matter”. I scrunched my brows at him. “Trust me”, he chuckled.

We walked towards a dark-skinned, kind looking woman, holding a beautiful baby in her arms. “Hey Neeta”, Jax smiled, and took the baby from her; holding it to his chest. His face was glowing with pride. “And this is my boy. Abel”. I let the baby hold my finger, and smiled at his chubby face. “Hi, Abel”. Jacksons eyes met mine; gleaming. “Is… his mom…”, I tried – fearing the answer. “Not around”, Jax answered. “It’s better that way”, he said meaningfully. I nodded. It wasn’t the time.

Abel started fussing. Jax took a baby-blanket from a diaper-bag on a table. “Did you bring…?”, Jax said, before Neeta handed him a bottle. Jax smiled warmly in thank you. He put the bottle to Abel’s mouth. “Here you go, little dude”. He bounced the baby up and down softly. “You’re good at that”, I smiled. “My mom would have my ass, if I wasn’t”, he grinned. “Besides, he’s my little man”. I stroked a finger over the baby’s forehead. “He’s perfect”. Jax looked at me proudly. “Yeah”, he smiled.

I looked around. “Where is your mom, by the way?”. “Shit, yeah”, he said, looking at the watch on his wrist. Jackson kissed the top of Abel’s head, and handed the bottle back to Neeta. “Gemma and Clay will be here in 5”, he called into the room. “She doesn’t know why she’s here. So quiet the hell up!”. There was a rumbling of an engine outside. “Shit, they’re early!”, Bobby said. “Turn off the lights!”.

Someone hit the lights; and about ten seconds later the door opened. “Goddammit, Clay”, Gemma grumbled, as she walked in. “You promised to take me to dinner, you jerk!”.

“Surprise!”, everyone yelled; and the lights turned on again. Gemma stood, mouth agape; flanked by the grey-haired man I’d seen on the road earlier; and a black-haired man with piercing eyes, I figured was Tig. “Oh my God!”, Gemma cried out. “You assholes!”. She laughed, and began hugging the people around her. Jackson walked up to his mom; and embraced her warmly; Abel still in his arms. Gemma kissed first Jackson; and then the baby, taking him from Jax’s arms. “You guys are dicks”, she said; happy tears in her eyes. The grey-haired man – Clay – put his arm around her waist, and kissed her warmly. “Happy birthday, baby”, he said. “At least you remembered it this year”, Gemma pouted playfully at him.

She looked towards me, a sense of wonder in her eyes. I smiled, and mouthed happy birthday. She mouthed me a thank you in response; followed by a warm smile. For a second her eyes shifted from me to Jackson, and she narrowed her eyes at him; whispering something in his ear. He laughed in response, and looked at me, biting his lip. He nodded at his mom, and walked back to me.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asked. “Please”, I said, smiling nervously. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re here with me”. I laughed. “Maybe that’s why I’m worried”. He winked at me. “In that case, you should be worried. Word around the street is, I’m dangerous”. He kissed my cheek again, and put his arm around me. “Rat, get this lady a beer”. The scrawny prospect handed over a cold bottle, and I took a welcome sip of it.

Opie joined us. “You’re teaching my kid this year”, he said. “Yeah, Jackson told me”, I answered. The tall man looked a bit uncomfortable. “She’s been having some issues… It’s been messing with her schoolwork”. I smiled comfortingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a hard-ass”, I said. Opie smiled softly. “Thanks”, he muttered.

Jax looked at his friend. “I told Cat about Donna”, he said. Opie nodded and met my eyes. “So you get it”, he said. “I do”, I said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help”. Opies expression warmed. “Thanks”, he said. “Cheers”, he said, raising his bottle at me. We clinked our beers, and both took a sip.

Opie looked meaningfully at Jax. “We got that thing, brother”, he muttered. Jackson frowned slightly, and looked at me. “I need to do some business”, he said, and put a strand of hair behind my ear. “Be back in a bit”. He walked off with Opie, leaving me to sit on a stool by the bar.

The black-haired man walked up next to me. “I hear you’re in need of a car”, he said, accepting a beer from the larger prospect. “I’m Tig”. “Cat”, I answered. “I know”, he winked at me. “It’s a piece of shit old chevy, but it’s better than the one you came to town in”. “Anything is better than that”, I laughed. He handed me a set of keys. “80 a month for a year work for you?”, he said. “That’s cheap”, I said, frowning slightly. “We take care of our own”, Tig said, and patted my shoulder. “By the way; if you get sick of the VP, let me know”, he smirked. I laughed again. “Sure, Daddy”, I grinned. “So the was you, next door”, he chuckled. I shrugged, and nodded.

Juice stepped up to stand on the other side of me. “Hey”, he said, giving me a crooked smile, and a lifted brow. Tig tapped him over the head. “Hands of, Juicy!”, he said. “Jax territory”. The young biker took a step away from me. “Sorry”, he laughed nervously. I shook my head, laughing. “This place is weird”, I said. “Welcome to town”, Tig said; and clinked his bottle to mine, taking a sip of beer. I joined him in the drink. We took a shot of whiskey together, before Tig’s attention went to a busty brunette in the corner. “Excuse me”, he muttered; and sauntered off, leaving me alone again.

I decided to look for a friendly face in the crowd, being a bit uncomfortable on my own. Jax hadn’t come back for his business yet, and I was worried he’d leave me alone all night. Lyla was standing with another woman, looking like they were gossiping about something. She caught my eye and waved me over. “How are you holding up?”, she asked. The other woman walked off; climbing on to Happy’s lap, where he was sitting on a couch. “Uhm…”, I began. “I just got in to town, and I’m already having drinks with the local biker gang. I’d say I’m a little out of my comfort zone”. She smiled friendlily at me. “You’ve already bagged the vice president. You’re doing just fine”, she said. “I haven’t bagged anyone”, I smiled. “He’s known you for 2 days, and already invited you to his mom’s birthday. I’d say you’re a bit more than some crow-eater”, Lyla responded.

I took another sip of my beer. “What’s a crow-eater?”. Lyla chuckled. “Ok, quick lowdown on the women in the club”, she began. “Most of the women in here, are what we call crow-eaters. They hang around the club, make the men feel good about themselves… you know”. “An easy lay”, I muttered. “Yeah”, Lyla smiled. “Some of us are what you’d call old ladies. We’re the ones who have locked our men down. See this…”. She showed me a tattoo of a flying crow on her shoulder. “This means no one but Opie touches me”. “Doesn’t it feel weird to be… marked, like that?”. I grimaced. “Sorry… I didn’t mean…”. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I get it”, Lyla responded. “This is just my way of showing everyone around me that I belong to Opie; but also, that Opie belongs to me”.

She smiled, and took my hand, squeezing it. “You seem nice, so I’ll let you in on a secret. This life… it’s not easy; but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love Opie – and his kids. He takes care of me and my boy”. She looked at me meaningfully. “But if you’re unsure about whether this is your idea of a good life; you should walk away. I mean that in the nicest way. Please don’t take it as anything else”. I gave her a crooked smile. “I’ll take it a day at a time”. She nodded.

A hand grabbed mine. Jax was standing next to me. “Hey”, he said softly. “Come say hi to my mom”. I followed him over to Gemma. “Hey sweetheart”, she said. “Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful”. “You’re welcome”, I smiled. “This is my husband, Clay”, she said, and the man at her side shook my hand. His eyes were deep and menacing; and I was unsure whether to be afraid of him or respect him. “Welcome to town, teach’”, he said. “Thanks. It’s been good so far”. Clay nodded at me, and looked at Jax. “Did you finish that business?”. Jackson clenched his jaw. “It’s done”, he said. “I made the call”. “Good”, Clay said. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow back on us”.

Gemma patted his chest. “No club business on my birthday, baby”. Clay smiled at his wife, and kissed her again. “Yes, ma’am”, he muttered. Gemma looked at Jax. “Do you need me to take the baby tonight?”. Jax looked at me, and then back at his mom. “Would you?”. “You know I love taking him”, she smiled. “Make it my birthday present”. Jackson chuckled. “Shit, I’ll take back the diamond necklace then”, he said. He took my hand. “Come on, let’s find somewhere quiet”. My breath hitched, and I followed him out of the clubhouse.

We sat down by a picnic table just outside the door. Jax had brought us a pair of freshly opened beers. “You doing ok?”, he asked earnestly. “Yeah”, I smiled. “Just … a bit out of my element”. He bit his lip and looked at me enquiringly. “What element is that?”, he asked. “I dunno… I usually don’t go to mc-parties”. He chuckled, and took my hand. “I’m glad you’re here”. “You don’t even know me”, I said quietly.

He sighed. “Tell me, then”. “What do you want to know?”, I smiled nervously. “Whatever you want to share”, he shrugged. “Why?”, I asked. He looked at me with a genuine warmth. “Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since you wrapped these hands around my waist, and it sent chills down my spine”. He took my other hand, linking his fingers with mine. “Where did you come from?”.

I didn’t know how much to tell him. I was still mentally sore from my ordeal with the guy in Chicago – but his serious expression made me trust him. “Chicago”, I said. “I was a teacher there as well. It didn’t work out…”. “Why?”. I sighed. “The city can wear a girl down”, I smiled theatrically. “And there was… a guy. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer”. Jacksons jaw clenched. “What’d he do to you?”, he almost growled “At first he was fine. We had a few dates, before he suddenly proclaimed his love for me”. “You didn’t feel the same way?”, Jax asked. “No. I mean; back then, he was friendly, had a steady job… He saw himself as a catch; and I guess he was. But I just didn’t care about him like that. He was… possessive. I tried to call it off, but he acted like I’d never said anything, and continued dropping by at my school; sending me flowers; and showing up at my apartment at all hours of the day”. Jackson bit his lip. “Sorry… I guess you’re off men for a while”, he said, and met my eyes again. I smiled. “No. Just him”. “Good to know”, he muttered. “But why didn’t you get a restraining order?”.

I sighed again. “I tried… he has connections. When he didn’t like my way of handling things, he let the word spread in the school council that I had an issue with drugs”. Jax shook his head angrily. “Asshole”. “Yeah”, I agreed. “I managed to get the drug accusations of my record – but it was too late, and I was fired”. “So you came to Charming”. I nodded. “I looked at names of towns on the west coast; and Charming seemed promising”, I smiled. “There was an opening as a teacher the elementary school; so I applied – and they must have been desperate, ‘cuz they gave me the position with just a phone interview”.

He squeezed my hands again. “I’m glad you’re here”. “Me too”, I muttered.

Jax put his hand on my cheek, and stroked my temple. “So if you’re not off men… mind if I give it a shot?”. I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile, and shook my head.

He leant in, and stroked his nose against mine. Our lips brushed each other for a second; and he kissed me. I parted my lips slightly, and the tip of his tongue met mine. He put his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to him. He smelled like leather and some musky cologne; a warm smell that fit him perfectly – and his kiss tasted like the beer he’d been drinking, and mint chewing gum.

He exhaled deeply and pulled back a bit. “Do you want to get out of here?”, he asked softly. My body was screaming yes, but I was desperately trying to control myself. “Jax… I just moved into town. We’ve known each other for 5 minutes… I don’t think…”. “I get it”, he smiled. “I’m not expecting you to jump in to bed with me. But I do want to see you again”. “I’d like that”, I smiled.

Our lips met again. “You taste like… pancakes”, he smiled. “Is that good?”, I smiled. “It’s perfect”, he said against my lips, kissing me deeply one more time.

The door opened, and Juice stepped outside with a ginger girl. “Shit, sorry”, he smiled. “It’s fine, Juice, the table is yours. Just clean it up afterwards”, Jackson smiled. “Come on”, he said to me, pulling me with him.

“I think it’s time for me to go home”, I said softly. He looked at me with a kind smile. “You want a ride?”. I jingled the keys in my pocket. “I got a new car; remember?”. Jax groaned. “Shit; I would have loved to have these legs wrapped around me, in one way or another”. He slid a hand over my thigh; squeezing them gently.

Juice looked impatient; and Jax took my hand – leading me over to a black, classic looking Chevrolet. “Wow…”, I said. “I popped an air freshener in there for you. It had a pretty gnarly smell”, Jax chuckled. “Thanks”, I smiled, and looked at him warmly.

Getting into the car – immediately thanking Jax an extra time for the air freshener; as it was needed – I rolled down the window. “Thanks for inviting me”, I smiled at the blonde man. Jax took the hand I had resting in the window-opening, and squeezed it – winking at me. His face suddenly dropped. “Shit, Cat. I didn’t get your number…”. I grinned, and rattled of my digits, and he punched the number into a flip phone from his pocket. Who uses flip phones anymore?

Jax leant in, and planted a final soft kiss against my lips. “Bye”, he whispered, and bit his lower lip. I smiled and started up the engine. My new car purred, and I had a wide smile on my face, as I left the lot – sending a final look towards the picnic table, where Juice was face deep in the red-haired girls cleavage.

Welcome to Charming, I grinned to myself, and drove off.

—

Tag-list: (let me know if you want on it)

@wolf-lover-bookdragon

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​

[noodlewright]

Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Maddie Pairings: None Rating: G

-

“So will it be between seventy and a hundred, or lower?”

“No. Keep working.”

At the heart of Clockwork's lair, Danny stared unseeingly at the math worksheet in front of him. The numbers were starting to blur together. 

Today, Danny was visiting Clockwork after having a fit of homework frustration that was quickly becoming routine. He was lucky to have found a mentor in Clockwork and studied with him as frequently as he could. Danny had quickly found that the ghost was, apparently, scary good with numbers, but there was nothing to be done to make math less mind numbing.

“No, as in it'll be higher?”

“You know perfectly well Danny.”

Danny wanted to know if all his extra study sessions would pay off when it came to Friday's big test, but he knew what Clockwork was getting at. The spirit was concerned that knowing his future test score would make him slack off, either because of an expectation that he would do well regardless, or that he would see no point in studying with failure to come anyway.

He needed to study for now and later exams, Clockwork insisted.

Danny huffed in annoyance and stared harder at the problem that gave him such grief.

It didn't yield.

“Do you want to go over it again?”

Danny hung his head in defeat. “Yeah.”

Clockwork left his terminal and made his way to Danny's side with a spare sheet of paper, half of it covered in a scrawl from earlier.

Halfway there, the spirit paused. Clockwork stared just over Danny's shoulder, as though a thought had just occurred to him.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. Just the other day, while Danny visited, Clockwork had done a similar action. He hadn't given it much thought then, or the ones before. Everyone did it on occasion. In Danny’s case, it usually happened when he walked through a doorway. Most people though, Danny considered, didn't do it this much.

Maybe Clockwork was a little scatterbrained?

-

It was, by now, what Danny recognized and referred to as one of Clockwork's “Moments”.

Danny had come to learn that Clockwork had these frequently.  Clockwork didn't have all knowledge of all things, the spirit had once explained. Clockwork knew of the past, if he cared enough to know it, and knew of the present, but not all of the present. If he wanted, he could learn it all but there were, he said, very many things that were dull and unimportant, and taking the time to see every bit would be a torture unimaginable.

The future was similar to him, in that he didn't endeavor to see every scrap of it, but even if he tried, it wouldn't have the same easy clarity.

The real take-away was that, when it came to the future, all things weren't set in stone, and as Clockwork explained, the ghost often felt that some events got lobbed at his head and he needed a moment to sort out the new information. Danny could understand that. He had trouble grasping the rest of the hour-long, complicated discussion that included half a dozen different metaphors and some math chalked onto the wall, but he could get that at least, and was glad to gain a little more insight on how Clockwork's abilities functioned.

-

“Are you okay?”

Clockwork’s attention snapped to Danny. The intense gaze made him uneasy. Was Clockwork mad? He got the feeling like he might have interrupted something.

“Uh, sorry.”

Immediately Clockwork's eyes widened, “No no, I’m sorry. I just realized something. I need to go-”

“What?” They had barely started!

A wink was sent his way. “It won't even be a moment.”

Oh right. Well, it wasn't like Danny could just forget the last fifteen years of rigid physical laws that applied to his and everyone else's lives. Clockwork would probably only disappear and reappear between blinks.

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, have you been disappearing on me this whole time?” he asked. He shouldn’t be surprised, it would be so easy to ditch and return without anyone being the wiser. 

“No, just when you’re already engaged in something.” Clockwork admitted.  

So basically, any time Danny wasn’t actually talking to Clockwork.  Which was a lot.

He shouldn’t be bothered by it.  He hadn’t even caught onto it until just now, but still, it sat unwell with him that Danny was someone who was to be put aside for a later date.  Couldn’t it wait until after Danny had left?  It wasn’t like Clockwork couldn’t just go back to whatever time period he pleased.

It would be polite at the very least.

But what was Danny going to do about it? Clockwork was nice enough, and Danny wasn't about to voice his disappointment when it wasn't actually that big of a deal to begin with. It would just have to be another mannerism to add to Clockwork's growing list.

“Uh, okay. So what's got you in such a rush to go?”

Clockwork opened his mouth to answer, but paused for another faraway look to overtake his face. “. . . Well, how do you feel about coming with me to find out?” he finally said.

There was hardly a thought before Danny agreed. “Sure!”

They set off.

-

Clockwork's portal led them to a large, immaculate kitchen.

“Very nice.” Danny said as he stepped out and oggled at the sheer size of the room. The number of cooking ranges and pots suggested that he was at a restaurant. “Do you come here a lot?”

Clockwork gave a distracted noise of affirmation as he walked over to a glowing red stove top and fiddled with the knobs until it was completely turned off. 

Had he just stopped what could have been a fire?

The ghost then grabbed at unsightly cords that littered the countertops and tucked them into less noticeable places.

“Danny, there is a set of knives to your left. Would you please place them in the cupboard?”

The cutlery in question had been loosely kept in a stainless steel container, not very dangerous in his opinion, but he obligingly shut it away.

From Clockwork's direction, Danny could vaguely make out senseless muttering, “-idiot thinks he's a chef . . . ”

Yeah, no kidding. Idiot was an understatement. Who left a stove on?

Danny startled at a sensation that brushed across his ankles.

He looked down to see a purring cat. “Um. Hi.”

It was long haired, and an obviously very well-kept animal. It was incredibly out-of-place for the current location. The cat gave him a lazy, silent meow. 

“I didn't think cats were allowed in restaurants.”

“It isn't a restaurant,” Clockwork clarified. “This is the home of Vlad Masters.”

Danny suddenly snapped alert and floated off the ground in a battle ready stance. His eyes darted around in search of an unwelcome presence. 

“He isn't here right now.” 

Danny immediately relaxed and found his footing again. He regarded the cat and kitchen before him once more. Now it was looking familiar. This wasn't his first jaunt uninvited to Vlad's house, but he had never paused to really look at the rooms he was darting through.

“Okay, so what are we doing here? I mean, I know fire-safety is important and all, but a blazing house and that guy isn't the saddest combination that I can imagine.”

“I understand,” Clockwork said as he made his way to a nearby window and began working its unyielding frame closed. “Masters has done you a great deal many wrongs. He is, what most would determine, unsalvageable. Unforgivable. Unethical and unrepentant.”

“Yeah. All that times a thousand.”

“He is also incredibly unstable.”

“I could have told you that.” Danny wondered where this was heading.

Clockwork ceased his fiddling and picked up the cat that had only been too content to loll on the ground. It wiggled, displeased at the graceless hold. 

“Before you is the crux of all of Masters’ affections.” He lifted the cat further with emphasis, and spoke with sincere solemnity. “The warmth held for you and your family is but a shrinking mote compared to what he has fostered with this animal.”

Shrinking? Anything that lessened Vlad's attention could only be a good thing. “Really? Does that mean he'll leave us alone now?”

Clockwork didn't entirely look him in the eyes when he said, “Not exactly. Masters is the very definition of passion and he can never entirely drop something once he's set upon it.”

“Not in all the timelines?”

“Most of those are currently closed and the few available are too . . .” Danny thought that Clockwork was about to have another Moment, but the spirit soon found his words, “-dreadful. Which is why it is very important that we curtail his fixations, in what ways we can, and direct him to better . . . things. This cat is crucial to that. He's poured all his love into it and should anything happen to it, Amityville will be a flaming crater, and its residents, crumbling charcoal.”

“He'd kill people for a cat?!”

“He'd kill someone for kicking it.”

“Oh my God. I mean, that's a really mean thing to do to a cat, and they deserve something, but the town is innocent. Why would he hurt them?”

“He’s an idiot when he's angry. And a part of him has always wanted to watch the world burn.”

Danny pulled the, now fed-up, cat out of Clockwork's arms and held it with complete reverence. “We have to protect this cat,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“We need to keep it inside and never let it out.”

“I know.”

“Sam can watch it when I can't-”

“Masters will be consumed with rage should it go missing.”

“Right. Okay. Well, it's- it's a cat, and it's been alright so far, right? It should be okay here. It's happy here and Vlad's happy.”

“But there's a problem. It's why I have to come here almost every blasted day. The cat is suicidal.”

“ . . . Is there a therapy for that?”

Clockwork gestured to the room, heedless of Danny, “She keeps trying to kill herself. Last week she was roadkill and the week before, mauled by a pack of dogs. I stop her from eating poisonous plants and she goes right back to them the next second. I keep her from chewing power cords and she tries and tries again- last time she did it while soaking wet from nearly drowning in the toilet. In fact, had we not been here, at this very moment, she would have deep fried herself! I am confident that I have now seen every possible misfortune that can befall an animal and I grow tired of it.”

Danny scrambled to absorb the dire information. “But . . . the deep fryer isn't even on.”

Clockwork glared at the animal pointedly. “And yet.”

Danny looked at the yowling cat in horror. “What can we do?”

“I'm doing all that I can.”

“But isn't there something we can do that is less hands-on? More permanent?”

“I've been scouring the timelines for that very answer and have come up short. Other possible solutions will show themselves eventually, but we're not at the right stage to begin exploring those.”

“Okay, well if we can't do anything with the cat, what about Vlad? Can't we just stop him?”

Clockwork rubbed his face tiredly. “Danny, a future where Masters has that sort of melt-down, and the city regardless saved, is not a future either of us want.”

Danny wished he could fact-check that, but he wasn't the one with foresight. “Are you suuure?” he needled.

“Yes.”

Well, Danny supposed that was that. He didn't entirely believe Clockwork. It was hard to judge when he knew so little of the information as a whole, it could just be that there was something that had been missed. However, he did trust that it was what Clockwork believed.

“Clockwork?”

“Hm?”

“This future you have in mind, is it a really good one?”

“. . . It's not all good, but it has a great deal many good things, yes.”

Something niggled at Danny. It was a thing that had long been bothering him, and it reared its ugly head whenever altering timelines came up, but he had never earnestly voiced it. Mostly because he had yet to see any bad come of it. “Clockwork, I know you can do all these cool things, but do you ever think that maybe you shouldn't be doing all this? Changing the timelines, I mean. I get wanting to have a better future for people, but what if you don't make the right choice? Why not just let it go?”

“Instead, how about you let it go?”

Danny's mouth dropped open in shock at the sheer rudeness, until he realized that Clockwork was pointing at the cat. She writhed in his arms and gave him warning bites to his gloves. 

He guessed Clockwork's answer wasn’t as much a brush-off as it was a diversion then. Fine.

He, gently, released the cat and planned to get right back to the questions at hand, but Clockwork addressed him before he could open his mouth.

“I've let things go a time or two before, Danny.” Clockwork had taken an interest in one of his many watches, his head tucked down so that shadow eclipsed most of his face. “And contrary to what some would have you believe, I have learned that it is better to do something, even if it's not the very best, than nothing at all. Inaction and apathy are things that I have fought hard to stay buried, and to embrace them again would be inexcusable.”

What could have possibly have happened? How bad did it get? Did he really want to know? 

“What-”

“So, will you help me keep this cat alive?”

And Danny did drop it, just like that. Clockwork clearly didn’t want to talk about it. That didn't mean he wasn't still curious. He was. But for today, and probably for a while, he would leave it be.

-

Vlad returned to the center of his current frustrations. He had been trying to recreate an old family recipe, when suddenly, he had been called away on business. It wasn't a long meeting, but he had felt the need to rush. A thought had dogged at him since he left.

Had he left the stove on?

He swung the kitchen door open and immediately calmed at the lack of raging flames and burning stove-tops. 

It seemed he did remember.

There was also a lack of general mess that often accompanied his random acts of cookery. His ingredients were laid out still, as well as a number of random bowls, but the utensils were nowhere to be seen and the deep fryer had been dumped. Curious. He didn't keep his cleaning staff this late, and even if he had, they wouldn't have been so lazy as to not properly clean up a clear mess.

“Who the shit has been in my kitchen?”

-

More

[youngbugandtonystank]

Your analysis about tony in hoco is interesting!! I saw some people said he's not a good "mentor" for Peter but I think they failed to see Tony's character in depth, so your analysis really helped a lot! If you have time, could you please do for Peter in hoco as well? Thank you ❤

Hi!

I know other people asked different things but I’m going to respond to these ones first. Thank you for asking!

Ok, first I want to talk about three things people usually get wrong about MCU Peter:

1. He’s not poor.

2. He doesn’t blindly admire Tony. 

3. He’s not dumb.

1. He’s not poor. Now, this doesn’t mean he’s rich or a billionaire but Peter is not poor. He’s average or might be above average. I think the reason people choose to believe that he’s extremely poor is because of his relationship with Tony and his classmates. Tony is a billionaire and many of his classmates are rich kids. Peter goes to a very expensive school so you are obviously going to spot kids with cars and expensive clothes, that doesn’t mean Peter is dying of hunger.  

Of course, the kid can’t afford really expensive things like cars but if his aunt is capable of taking Peter out for food instead of cooking, capable of affording a Jansport Wasabi of 46$ multiple times, sneakers of 39 to 70$, capable of affording apartments like this then the kid is doing fine. 

He has an extensive wardrobe, hell, I even spotted Flash wearing the same shirt three times on different occasions and Flash is supposed to be rich. Peter is a dumpster diver because Peter always loses, breaks or ruins things when he’s Spiderman. He mentioned in hoco that he has the habit of losing his backpack and the movie demonstrates that Peter gradually breaks his phone till it’s in pieces. His aunt is not going to pay stuff multiple times for him and it’s not because she can’t afford it, is because Peter would never ask unless it’s a necessity like a backpack. Something he can’t build, so he fixes or makes the other stuff. 

2. He doesn’t blindly admire Tony and 3. He’s not dumb. The thing about their relationship is that people love to exaggerate the ‘’bad’’ parts to fit their ‘’Tony Stark is a villain’’ agenda. Peter knows Tony is not a perfect man, he’s a smart kid, he can tell. Tony’s life is constantly on the news, that includes his dumb decisions: like giving the villain his home address or his playboy party days. Peter knows about this too. 

When Toomes explains to Peter why he’s doing what he’s doing he tells him that Peter is the lesser guy to a man like Tony (something that is more of a reflection of toomes’ character and attitude more than an actual explanation as to why continuously being aware of hurting people and dealing with weapons illegally is a choice he /Toomes/ still makes) and that they’re usually the ones that eat their table scraps. What’s Peter’s answer? ‘’Why are you telling me this?’’ /= ‘’I’m aware of this, why are you telling me this?’’ 

Truth is, Peter doesn’t share his opinion. He sees Toomes for who he is. He sees someone who continuously makes bad decisions and chooses to act in a morally incorrect way to provide to his family and Peter understands that in the end, he’s going to end up hurting Liz (This is why he dropped out of a high school experience such as homecoming with the girl he likes, because Peter understands. ’’How could you do this to her?’’). He sees someone who got comfortable with wearing a profiteering two-faced skin, something Peter could never do. He knows Toomes is only using the ‘’tony stark is evil too’’ card to try and justify his actions. He’s basically saying: ‘’The hero did it, so why can’t I?’’ The hero changed, Toomes didn’t. That’s what makes him the villain.

People now more than ever have a hard time accepting the fact that Tony is, in fact, someone who grew out of a bad place/mentality/morality because they want him to stay as the ‘’bad guy’’ in their minds. It’s easier for them to hate him with this mentality. Truth is, he’s the definition of character development. Tony learns from his mistakes and makes an effort to correct those things. He rebuilds himself. He stops. He fixes things. Because when you do something wrong, you make things right. That’s how it is. And Peter also understands this. 

You see, Peter looks a little desperate in Homecoming to become an Avenger and it’s not because he wants to impress Tony Stark. Peter himself addressed the reason for this. 

He’s bored.

This is his face when entering the school.

And this is him getting out of it.

 ‘’So, how’s school? It’s boring. Got better things to do.’’ ‘’You want to be a high school dropout? I am so far beyond high school right now.’‘ ‘‘But we have a Spanish quiz. Ned, I’m probably never gonna come back here.’‘ He’s tired of school. This is proof of how smart this kid is, he doesn’t need to look at the board or pay attention in class because he already knows all the stuff the other kids are learning. He counts the hours to be able to leave the school. The principal knows Peter is a smart kid. His classmates begged him to stay on the decathlon team and doubted they could win a competition without Peter. School is not a challenge for him anymore.  After getting the experience he got in Civil War, he firmly believes he’s wasting his time in school and could be doing bigger things and his one-way ticket to do that is getting an official membership to the Avengers team. 

Look at him here, he’s having the time of his life.

For a hyperactive

genius kid

school must be hell. 

His motivation to be an Avenger is completely different than his relationship with Tony. He wants to change the pace of what he’s so tired of experiencing. High School. Now, he does want to impress Tony but not to prove his worth as an Avenger but because he looks up to the man. With all of his flaws and mistakes. He knows Tony is not perfect, he knows about Ultron, about his playboy days, about the Accords (you can see him receiving a full lecture in school about them: ‘’The Sokovia Accords were put into place…’’), about how he gave his address to the villain and how said villain destroyed Tony’s house, etc. All of this was on TV. All of it. 

When Peter said ’’I just wanted to be like you’’ he didn’t mean ‘’I wanted to be you’’. Peter wants to do great things, world-changing things, make a difference in someone’s life, help out on a bigger scale. Something Tony does. It’s easy for a kid like Peter to like those things about Tony because he wants the same. And he wants that because it’s who he wants to be. So why wouldn’t he want the approval of someone that does those things? 

‘’So you wanna look out for the little guy-

-you wanna do your part? 

Make the world a better place, all that, right?’’

‘’Yeah, just looking out for the little guy-

-That’s what it is.’’

Aaron Davis about Peter: ‘’The other night, you told that dude, “if you shoot somebody, shoot me.” That’s pretty ballsy.’’

Peter sees a great guy in Tony. Despite everything else. Someone who knew how to put himself together after surviving the grief and pain life presented for him. Peter can see through him and can tell this man has been through hell and back and Peter admires that. He can see strength in him and he wants that as well. If Peter thought Tony was a god almighty, he wouldn’t have stayed at the ship in IW claiming he ‘’thought about Tony’’ and decided to stick to the side of the ship to help his mentor. 

He got attached to Tony really fast. He thought of him as a guidance figure because that’s how Tony presented himself to Peter, since the beginning. He told Peter when he met him that he was there for a hundred-point restoration. He asked him why was he doing the superhero thing, what is his MO and what gets him of bed every morning. It’s natural that Peter got attached that fast, because Tony not only did his homework on him, he showed him that he was there to support him and that he understood him. When was the last time Peter got that from a male figure? That’s right, his previous father-figure, Ben Parker. So receiving that from Tony made him start looking at the man that way.

When we start seeing this? In here:

He challenges Tony when he believes the man is not listening to him, not caring enough about him. Thing is, Peter, had been way too involved in his own little world that never once stopped to pay attention to details like: ’’like that lady that bought you the churro.’‘ ‘‘Happy told me you quit band six weeks ago.’‘ ‘’My dad never really gave me a lot of support…and I’m trying to break the cycle of shame.’’

And like a typical teenager, he gets defensive when Tony proves him wrong.

Here, he starts to realize Tony means more than just the Avengers membership or the recognition. He gets way too upset and sad over something like what happened. He could easily offer an apology or use his old suit instead. He gets upset because he feels like his relationship with Tony is over.

‘’I just thought that I could work really hard and he could– He would– You know. But I screwed it up.’’  /=  ‘’I just thought that I could work really hard and he could see me as a hero, he would offer me a place on the team/his life- You know. But I screwed it up.’’

Peter was aware of all of this just after the ferry incident. Just like Tony, before that confrontation, he was doing this unaware of the personal feelings he was putting into the equation. He even complained to Ned about Tony like any kid would about their parents: 

‘’I’m sick of him treating me like a kid all the time.’’

‘’Why would I tell him about the churro?’‘ ‘’Can I please talk to Mr. Stark?’‘ ‘‘I don’t really want Mr. Stark to know about it.’‘ ‘‘Mr. Stark really overdid it.’‘ ‘‘Hey, Mr. Stark, could I do anything?’‘ ’‘I gotta tell Mr. Stark.’‘ 

He wants Tony in his life. He already thinks of him like he’s his father-figure.

He gets time to reflect on everything and does the right thing as he’s always done. He understands he needs to give Tony his space and that if he wants to be there for him, he needs to be patient. And he gets that at the end:

‘’Boss wants to see you.’’ ‘‘Give me a minute with the kid.’‘ ‘‘I gotta talk to the kid.‘’ ‘‘I was wrong about you.’‘ ‘‘I think, with a little more mentoring…’‘ ‘’Happy will show you to your room…’‘ ‘’You’ll fit right in.’‘ ‘‘See you around. Okay.’‘ ‘’He actually made a mature choice.’’

He wants to be more than what he is and he wants to stay around Tony because he wants the guidance and the feeling of comfort and security he gives him but he knows he needs to stay on the ground for the little people. That’s where he started, that’s where he stays. After getting crushed by a building, I think he is still a little unprepared for the big stuff. 

And at the end, he gets confirmation Tony is going to be there, no matter what choice he makes.  

Thank you!

[starkerparkerpony]

AU where Tony (44-45 y/o) meets an aged up (23-24 y/o) Peter after Civil War, Tony is broken up with Pepper and all kinds of sorry for himself. Peter is a ESU graduate and currently has an internship with Oscorp and is a photographer for the Daily Bugle he is also spiderman and therefore perpetually exhausted and has very little patience.

(It's been a while since I wrote something, please consider reblogging)

I scold because I stan

Tony was starting to get sick of himself.

The self hatred and self pity were starting to crescendo, which was shedding a lot of light on how he got to and where Tony currently was in his life.

Spangle's betrayal shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

The breakup with Pepper shouldn't have been as painful as it was.

He shouldn't miss the team as much as he did.

Vision injuring Rhodey shouldn't have felt like a personal failure but it did.

Speaking of personal failures, the accords shouldn't have scattered more than half of the planet's protectors in the wind all while labeling them 'war criminals' but they had.

And Tony was sick of himself because his centrally heated penthouse shouldn't be haunted by a Serbian cold but it was.

Because his heartbeat shouldn't feel like someone trying to jackhammer the arc reactor into his sternum sometimes... but it did.

So he decided to go out because his inner 'self hatred' voice was starting to sound too much like his father and that was about the last straw for Tony.

A baseball cap, coat and muffler later, Tony Stark was roaming the streets of New York but then it was too fucking cold for that so he quickly ducked into a cozy looking Irish pub.

He quickly scanned the place for a place to sit, it was pretty packed except for a booth which was occupied by one person who had their head down on the table and appeared to be, best case scenario, dozing off or worst case scenario, passed out.

Appropriate company for the kind of evening he was having he thought to himself as he made his way to the booth.

A waiter came to take his order and Tony took it upon himself to order a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. If he was gonna get hammered in a public place against all good sense then atleast he was gonna do it with some company... even if said company was seemingly unconscious.

When the waiter put down the glasses, his boothmate woke up. And Tony was confronted with a gorgeous guy with stunning brown eyes, he was sporting a rather sizable shiner over his left one but it did absolutely nothing to detract from his attractiveness.

"Jesus Christ... are you actually Tony Stark? Or am I hallucinating?" The guy asked quietly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't recognize me." Tony wrinkled his nose as he admitted.

"That's either a scathing comment on your perception of the general public's intellect or humility which absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes you," the guy scoffed.

Huh... he's sharp and quick Tony thought.

"A little bit of both. The hat usually, miraculously works." Tony explained

"Don't judge me but I've had an entire wall dedicated to your face ever since your first Rolling Stone cover... the hat wasn't gonna work on me."

"That's a lot to unpack from a stranger"

"I'm Peter Parker."

"You know who I am."

Peter's face split into an overjoyed smile when Tony said that. It was a ridiculous 'only in New York' kinda thing to find yourself in the same booth as Iron Man in your local pub and Peter really needed this after the day he'd had. He was still completely terrified that at any moment Tony would accuse him of being Spiderman and make him sign the accords but he was also gonna let himself relax and enjoy meeting his hero a little.

"I'm not a billionaire expert but shouldn't you be drinking at a much upper scale place than this?" As amazed as he was, Peter was also perplexed by Tony's presence in the pub.

"There's a lot about me that absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes me. You just admitted to me that you have a wall dedicated to my face and then brushed past it like it was nothing..." Tony said, incredulous.

"You're pretty, you're an amazing scientist, you build robots and are a superhero because of a badass armour you made that can fly. I'm a nerd and bisexual, it's is nothing, just nature basically," Peter waved him off as he started to pour the whiskey for them.

Surprisingly enough Tony's cheeks were a little flushed by the time Peter looked up, which made him think that maybe there isn't much accurate about the reputation that precedes Tony Stark.

"Hmm... who did that to your face?" Tony asked about the shiner Peter was sporting.

"Umm... a girl was getting mugged, I tried to play hero, you should see the other guy as the saying goes" Peter shrugged.

"Wow good for you... could've ended badly though." Tony's chest was unexpectedly and rather worryingly tight hearing about the danger Peter had been in.

"I know... I lost a loved one to a mugging gone wrong but the girl needed help, I didn't really have a choice."

It was like hearing those words was the straw that broke the camel's back for Tony. Because he completely understood what Peter meant. Tony never really felt like he had a choice either and whether or not Peter was ready to have a lot of information about the Avengers and his 'face wall' buddy Iron Man's wretched life choices, he was gonna be vented at like there was no tomorrow. Because Stark men don't go to therapy, they drink and speak very fast at unsuspecting civilians.

So Tony talked and Peter listened, about how the star spangled man with a plan is a fucking douchebag, how fucking hurt he felt that Nat, Clint and Wanda would still choose him over Tony, how he hasn't been able to look Rhodey in the eye since Germany and probably never will be, how easily things fell apart with Pepper even after he tried so hard, how the winter soldier fucking killed his mom and fucking spangles hid it from him, how he probably deserved it because that poor kid that got killed in Sokovia because of him... and as Tony talked he also drank so he was feeling pretty buzzed by the time he was done talking thankfully Peter was drinking right along with him.

It wasn't really a conversation, rather Iron Man just venting to him... he did notice a pattern though, everything Tony complained about, he tied up the line of thought with ultimately blaming himself for it.

Peter had always felt a certain kinship with the guy... but this man telling him how helpless his power had made him to the massive responsibility that came along with it, hit too close to home.

"Are you always this self loathe-y or is this just a today thing?" Peter asked when Tony stopped talking

"What? I don't... what?"

"Buddy... Captain America, if he really did to you what you say he did... then who gives a shit? He's an asshole. And I'm not even a supporter of the accords but even I think that the Rogues could have handled it in a better way...

No seriously, there's way more enhanced folks in this country than just the Avengers, some of them are minors, there's a dude in Hells Kitchen who is gonna sue the government and the UN so that the registration thing is scrapped, Charles Xavier and his team are even collaborating on the lawsuit.

Those people could have really used Captain America with them on this but he was too busy playing Rambo and violating other countries' sovereignty and beating the living shit out of Iron Man apparently.

I mean for a genius, you're a dumbass because you let the people who once tried to nuke Manhattan convince you that you're more dangerous than they are but you had 'dead-kid-in-Sokovia' guilt. So I get it but c'mon cut yourself some slack."

Tony was a bit flabbergasted by the kid's performance.

"Of course you'd say it... you stick my pictures on your wall," Tony grumbled

"Oh hell no! You will not use my stan status against me. I know exactly how problematic my fav is. I know your family made their fortune selling weapons and not just to the US Military and I know you only gave a crap about the under the table dealing with terrorists when they threatened your life but I'm sorry Mr. Stark if you deny yourself the credit for learning from your mistakes then every human everywhere is going straight to hell.

Intellicrops prevented famines... the arc reactor technology is saving the planet from global warming...

I saw that video of Helena Cho with those acid attack victims in India and openly weeped in a Starbucks...

You really did privatize world peace... there's a reason the biggest threat to us now is "evil aliens" you know... cause' what the fuck chance does ISIS have against War Machine? Even that Mandarin thing turned out to be a hoax.

I have 3 patents because of my Maria Stark Foundation grant and I didn't even get the MIT-full funding ones... one day one of those kids is going to cure cancer and it's going to be because of you.

So of course I'll defend you man... but you don't seem to realize that any decent person would." Peter was pretty pleased with himself after that and shot Tony an eyebrow raise as if daring him to disagree.

"I got nothing."

"Of course you don't." Peter grinned.

Maybe Tony had just isolated himself too much from people who didn't consider him a complete and utter asshole.

But with Peter it didn't even feel like praise... it was like the guy was scolding him for being too mean to himself.

It felt nice nonetheless.

Before Tony had even recovered from Peter's glorious rant, the younger guy handed him a business card with the words "Daily Bugle" embossed on it.

"Don't hold my gossip rag workplace against me... it's easy money and I'm only doing it till Norman Osbourne starts paying me for the work I already do for him." Peter shrugged

"You're with Oscorp? What do you do? Why not SI?" If he had scored an internship with Oscorp and a grant from his own foundation then he must be good enough for SI.

"I'm R&D chemical engineering and I'm not at SI because your recruiters are assholes who demand 3 years experience for a beginner position..." said Peter matter of factly.

"You should apply with us again." Tony insisted, the guy had 3 patents and very sharp, after tonight the least Tony could do was get him a job.

"You should call me." Peter countered

"I- wait are you hitting on me?" And much to Tony's chagrin, he found himself blushing again.

"Yeah duh Mr. Stark."

"I'm old enough to be your father." Tony sputtered and that hurt to admit.

"And I have insane daddy issues- you'll love me. I'm not even gonna ask you for a selfie... you don't look your best right now but definitely call me." Peter winked as he started to leave.

"You're fucking negging me?!" said Tony looking up at the ballsy kid as he slid out of the booth.

"Hey you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. Gandhi said that." The kid called over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Gandhi absolutely did not say that Peter." Tony yelled back.

God he was gonna call the guy.

Read part 2 here, part 3 here

[writingwithacupoftea]

It’s been one hell of a week, and I want to share a life update with you all...

I don’t really know what this post is gonna be. I think it’s gonna be kinda like journaling, but I actually wanted to feel like I was talking to someone about it, even if no one reads it. I’m going to put everything below the cut, and if you wanna read it, cool, and if you don’t, that’s equally alright. I’m not scrapping for sympathy, I just want to talk to people that aren’t in my quote on quote ‘real life’ (pls don’t be offended, I love you all dearly).

So, feel free to ignore, this is going to be completely unedited, raw rambling about stuff that I need to get off my chest.

I guess I’ll start with the good stuff: I got accepted to interview for my teacher training course!!!!! I’m absolutely over the moon, and incredibly grateful to have this opportunity 🥰

I’m having a long weekend at home with my family, which is lovely, because it feels like ages since I was back at home. My amazing bestie/house mate sent me the cutest little care package this morning and omg I love her so much 🥺

I’m also finally starting to get on top of uni work, which is a big weight off my shoulder now I need to start with interview prep as well.

Now, before we move onto the bad stuff, a bit of backstory...

In December 2019, I got into a relationship with a guy who, quite frankly, is unlike any other boy I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, considerate, selfless, generous, funny, caring - basically every girl’s dream guy. We have similar interests, have never fought once, and were friends before we got into a relationship.

We had an incredible 3 months together as a couple, with so many incredible memories and laughs... and then lockdown happened in the England.

The announcement on 23rd March this year that England was going into lockdown sent me spiralling into my first ever panic attack (which was an absolutely horrendous experience) and my Mum drove up to my uni house in the middle of the night to bring me home.

I anticipated being at home for a few weeks, and then it turned into months. But these months were some of the best months of my life - Mum and I would go walking in the fields around where we live and have tv nights together, me and my friends from held games nights over zoom every Friday night so that we could see each other - it was incredible.

It was during these months at home that I decided, on a whim and not telling anyone other than my parents, to email my old school to see if they were part of any teacher training courses. At this point, I didn’t know for sure if I wanted to go straight into teaching after finishing my degree or if I wanted to do another job for a few years before committing myself to teaching. I’m a big believer in fate, and thought the response that I get to this email will decide.

So I sent it and, miraculously, got a response within a week, saying that they would be delighted to have me. I was ecstatic. Obviously nothing had been confirmed, because I still had to apply and be interviewed, but I had been given the confirmation that I didn’t realise that I so desperately wanted.

I texted my boyfriend and rang my best friend to tell them the news, and they were over the moon for me. But I also had to tell my boyfriend that this meant that I would be moving back to my home town once I finished my degree, something which is now mere months away.

I now had a clear direction in which my life was going, I’d smashed my second year at uni with flying colours, and my confidence in myself had flown up to an all time high. I had completely fallen in love with the person that I had become. Lockdown had also meant that I regained my love of my independence, and I realised that I wasn’t missing my boyfriend at all. In fact, the main person that I was missing was my best friend.

It was at this point that I started to have doubts about my relationship. 

Surely after months of being apart I should’ve started to miss him? I even found myself not looking forward to going to see him for our birthdays as planned. Our text conversations had grown stale, and I didn’t want to call him because I had no clue what to say to him.

I’ve always been very career-minded. My focus was completely on my future plans, and he wasn't there in my visions as my boyfriend. He was there as a friend, yes, but not my boyfriend.

When I went to meet him in our uni city for our birthdays, I felt more like I was meeting up with a good friend and not my boyfriend.

I think by this point I had built all these feelings up so much in my head that it was always going to be hard to move past them. But I said to myself that I wasn’t going to make any decisions about what to do with my relationship until I had moved back to uni for a couple of months and we spent some time together again properly, going back to near enough the way that things used to be before the pandemic took over.

So I moved back to uni, and this takes us nearly up to present day.

First of all, we both worked to run some of the event during the uni’s freshers’ week, which left us exhausted and busy. The week after we went into lectures, and the pressure hit me straight away.

To work at my dream school, I need a first-class degree (that’s the highest ranking of undergraduate degree that you can get in England). Yes, I’m already averaging at a good first, but the pressure to keep it up is immense. If I don’t get this grade, all the things that I’ve worked so hard to achieve will go down the drain.

On top of all my degree work, I was completing my teacher training application, running weekly events at the Students’ Union (SU, for short), being dragged into meetings every other week...it’s been insane.

So me and my boyfriend hadn’t had a single date night since we got back. Again, I hadn’t missed it and I was completely fine with it.

I then got invited for an interview for my teacher training course, and realised how busy I was going to be for the rest of this academic year. I didn’t know how the hell I was going to maintain a relationship on top of everything else. I then thought about what my life would be like when I started my course next September. If I was being realistic, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to maintain a long-distance relationship.

I also didn’t think that I wanted to maintain it. I missed being single, I was putting off date nights that he was trying to arrange in favour of chilling by myself in my room. But I also felt bad that I was essentially going to be putting my relationship on hold for a semester, to then resume as usual for a few months at the beginning of 2021, to then say actually I don’t think I can make this work when I moved home.

So on Tuesday, after much deliberating and talking, my boyfriend and I mutually decided to part ways as a couple after 10 months of being together, but remain the best of friends.

I was a lot more upset than I thought I would be, considering that I had brought the topic up and essentially instigated it (although the decision was mutual).

I sobbed and sobbed, and it was then that I started to doubt my decision. He’s devastated, my Mum too, and I started to wonder if I’d made a mistake.

When talking to my Mum on the phone, I listed all of his good qualities and how amazing he his and my Mum just asked “If he’s this good, as I know he is, why did you want to break up with him? There’s not many like him out there.”

I’m still thinking about that question. It genuinely haunts me.

I’ve been alright for the past few days. After a good sleep on Tuesday night, I woke up feeling okay and like all my doubts about my decision had vanished.

I’ll be honest, I’ve always been a Mummy’s girl. Her opinion and advice mean the world to me. And I know that she disagrees with the decision that I made to leave my boyfriend, she’s said it to my face multiple times. And now, the only thing making me doubt my decision is the fact that she is completely in disagreement, saying how amazing we were together as a couple and questioning how I could let him go.

I know it’s my decision, but her opinion means a lot to me. She’s always known what’s best for me, been so right about so many people, and that’s scaring me beyond belief.

We’re going to talk about it later today, and I have no clue what’s going to happen.

So I’m feeling a bit all over the place at the moment, that’s the only way I can describe it. Who knows what’s going to happen next - I sure don’t...

If you made it this far, honestly congratulations because I don’t think I would’ve 😂

Thank you for listening to me ramble, and thank you for being there for me to talk to.

All my love,

Emily x

[slxyangel]

On Your Feet (Izzy Stradlin’ x Reader)

Summary: The shower gets a bit more steamy than usual when you are both in it.

Wordcount: 1.8k.

Warnings: Essentially smut, oral (F receiving), sliiiightly rough parts (blink and you’ll miss them), explicit language (duh). Despite the name, there’s no foot fetish, don’t worry.

A/N: This is the first Izzy smut I write and I’m so damn excited to share it with you. I’m tagging @agroupiewhore because she asked me to and @slashscowboyboots because Izzy is her guy and I thing she might like reading this as much as I liked writing it. Also, I’m planning to do a taglist, so if you want me to include you, just tell me in the askbox and I will.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

You had a thing for standing orgasms. The kind that you forcefully had to go through holding onto something or someone, because if you didn’t you would fall apart, literally. Those that made your legs tremble and made you feel insanely weak before, because of the effort; meanwhile, because of the bliss; and after, because of the exhaustion. And Izzy knew it. And, since he was a natural provider, he provided.

The shower had started normally, for God’s sake. You even were alone in there, which lately happened once every solstice. Not that you were complaining, obviously, but having showers with your boyfriend usually led to both of you being late everywhere and thanking the odds for not getting any broken bone in the process. So, yeah, you were on your own, absentmindedly humming a tune in your head, you don’t really remember which one, when he opened the door of the bathroom.

Up until then everything normal, he sometimes did that when you were taking your sweet time in the shower and he had to pee or brush his teeth. At first that always annoyed you, but given the fact that you only had one bathroom in your flat and that the door had no lock, you ended up getting used to his intrusions. Oh, and let’s not forget that it wasn’t technically a shower, but a small bathtub with a curtain, a tap and a shower head that could be either hanging or in your hand. Because nuances are important here.

There you were, singing and swinging the shower head, minding your own business, soaping your whole body and planning your outfit for the day, when suddenly the curtain flew open and, no words spoken, Izzy stepped into the tub with you, stark naked and with a boner bigger than Manhattan. Because that’s how one gets in a shower. Stark naked, I mean, not the boner, that’s another story. He took the shower head from your hand and hovered it all over his body, wetting every single millimeter of his exposed skin. The sight was downright sinful: his eyes closed, his hair dripping, his breaths blowing away all the little drops that dared come in contact with his lips, his mouth open... 

- What are you looking at?

- You.

What a dumb question to ask. He must had sensed your eyes burning his skin like laser rays from head to toe and side to side, not missing a single detail. Not that you hadn’t seen him like that before, you obviously had, but it never failed to impress you. It was moments like that when you asked yourself more than ever, “How the hell did I land this?”. But he was provoking. Izzy loved to tease, that was not new; and you lowkey highkey loved to be teased. In any case, he was just being pointless; he couldn't do what he had just done, especially being so visibly horny, and try to play it cool, because clearly he wanted it more than you did. Well, at least that was true right before he stepped in there with you, but right now… well, right now maybe the scores were even.

Interrupting the course of your thoughts, Izzy moved closer to you, holding your hips and giving you a kiss so nasty you started to think that the water that ran down your legs was not water. Then, without letting go of your lower body, he kneeled on the bottom of the bathtub and looked at you from below with big eyes and a smile that resembled a panther's right before it catches the antelope.

He buried his head between your legs and worked his way to make you tremble the way he knew you loved. He didn't even bother prolong the issue, but you silently thanked him for it, because you didn't think you could stand the agony of a never arriving orgasm. In less than a minute, one of your hands was already in his black mane of wet hair, and the other one tried to grab the wall next to you, obviously with little success. By then the showerhead was already on the floor. You felt how your senses got close to and far from the edge, and then close again, like waves that threatened to drown you in the most beautiful euphoria, and you couldn’t contain the moans.

And he stopped. Just like that, he stopped and withdrew his head. Your eyes, almost worried, found his, almost amused, as he stood up from his original position.

- What are you…?

- Turn around for me, babe.

His words came out of his swollen lips at the same time he gently positioned your back against his front. And then, definitely not that gently, he pushed you against the wall and thrust into you in a swift, eager motion. You were already really, really wet, so his shaft slid in with no problem. Your sensitive walls started clenching around him in less than no time, because after what he had just done to you, your whole organism was craving its sweet release. He was fast and rough, and if you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t have noticed the irregularity in his movements that told you he was getting desperate too. His right hand grabbed and then slapped your buttcheek and, with his other hand, he caressed the side of your face that was not pressed against the marble tiles. His fingers grazed your hair, your temple, your cheek and your lips, and once they were there you started sucking on them so good, so filthy, suffocating your moans and letting him enjoy the sight. Your eyes, almost shut, begged him for whatever he was willing to give you and your knees seemed dangerously close to give in.

- Izzy, please…

You didn’t even know what you were saying or what you wanted to ask him for.

Him.

Just him.

More him.

His lips made the distance with yours disappear, twisting your neck in an almost impossible angle. Then, his left hand traveled from your jaw to your breasts and south from there, sneaking down where you couldn’t want him more even if you tried. Insanity was about to take over you but, in the worst moment, his voice in your ear implored you not to let go, not just yet.

He pulled out.

You couldn’t convey how infinitely frustrated he was making you feel, but you couldn’t hide it either, because an anguished, angry and fucking horny moan was faster leaving your lips than you were containing it. You knew that, if he hadn’t stopped right then, you wouldn’t have been able to hold yourself back, because he had you there, right there, at the point in which only one more movement would have been fatal yet terribly wonderful.

You were now facing each other, heavy breathing, impossibly closer and fighting against the most dominant of your basic instincts. His eyes, locked with yours as he said “I just want to look at you”, could have been your death sentence, but you had one task to complete. You stood on your tiptoes, holding onto his shoulders so you could keep yourself balanced and softly kissed his mouth. Your legs were barely separated, just enough for him to creep the hand he wasn’t holding your waist with between you two and slide his fingers along your folds. Before you had time to enjoy the contact, he took his cock in his hand and lined it with your entrance, pressing his tip against your center. Very slowly and without separating his eyes from yours for even a second, he slid inside of you.

The penetration was shallow but, in exchange for the lack of him filling you up, you had him everywhere else. Every spot of skin in your core was melting against the friction. Your clit was throbbing in a pleasure so intense it felt almost close to pain, and his length sliding it up and down did all but helping ease it. You craved for more, and held him tighter as if your bodies were going to merge into each other at any given time. Your legs felt like jelly and, since you had to stand on your tiptoes for the magic to happen, your balance threatened to leave your body. He felt your fingers latching onto his shoulders, your nails digging his skin and your knees buckling for a split second, but he would never let you fall. His hands held your ass up, desperately closer to him, and he gave you the support you, at that point, lacked and didn’t seem able to regain anytime soon. He kissed you fiercely, swallowing the sounds your body made. He didn’t stop moving for a second, and when he felt that familiar twitch happen inside of you, all he did was smile and press you to his front. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, all of the built up anticipation he had exasperated you with was finally released, and your body was spinning unbearably fast. Your head flying, your lungs emptying themselves in a scream you heard behind what felt like a wall of glass, and your limbs losing their power for a tiny moment. It was like riding a rollercoaster, except all there was was Izzy, and the rest of things had been created with the sole purpose to revolve around him, his hazel eyes and the way he absentmindedly owned the world.

You were so caught up in the clouds that you hadn’t realized his pleasure had synchronized with yours to the millisecond. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as his arms embraced you, and the scraps of the glorious grunts he emitted still resounded there, against the skin he had painted purple with his lips. His hair still dripped down his back, his shoulders and your chest with now colder drops. A shiver ran down your spine. It had been a while since you forgot about the still on warm shower head and only dedicated yourselves to one another, so now that the pleasure that comes with lust had faded, the temperature was sensibly lower. His body abandoned yours, and you flinched at the loss, but you comfortably regained your posture when he took the shower head from the floor of the tub and covered both of you with the heat you were missing. Just like that you stayed, next to each other, skin to skin until a light cloud of steam settled inside the bathroom, as the witness to how both of you recovered your breath and your legs kept shaking.

[pogaytosalad]

Heres a wip of a sequel.

Dmviolence, by jade

Hello, if youre hearing this, it probably means im dead. Either that, or im alive and just got tired of keeping this hidden. You might remember my voice from a previous recording about a takeover in sector ⬽:➻, in which id helped prevent total annihilation of the sector. At the time i was unnamed, however now you may call me Kalton. After the takeover i resigned and moved to a job at a dmv. This planet was, for some reason, in one of the most tactically advantageous locations in the galaxy. And for some reason the higher ups dedicated the whole damn planet to dmvs. Dont ask why. Now, onto the story.

I woke up, and i put on my emerald green contact lenses. Just like any other day. I put on a basic white t-shirt and a leather bomber jacket along with a pair of jean shorts. If you cant tell by now, im gay.

I live in a small apartment. By small apartment i mean a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen all crammed into 2 rooms. I hopped out the bedroom window onto my motorcycle. It was a diamond white motorcycle with deep red stripes along the sides and the handlebars. My pride and joy. I put on my jet black helmet and took off towards my job at the, you guessed it, dmv.

Chapter 2

I pulled up in the parking lot and took off my helmet, my blue hair a total rats nest. The doors were push doors, yet i somehow ALWAYS pulled first. I entered the dmv and went to my station. A few hours passed by and no one had come in yet, which was unusual. So naturally i decided to sit down on the floor, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed some heavy metal. A few more hours passed by, and usually by now i wouldve been yelled at by my boss. This struck me as odd so i stood up. I really wish i hadnt stood up. The place had been completely destroyed. There were drop pods crashed in through the roof and they all had the ERGON logo on them. Ergon was a multi trillion dollar pencil manufacturing company with its own military. They had previously tried to take over sector ⬽:➻ when i had been working there. I was not looking forwards to what was about to happen.

Quickly, i ducked back onto the floor before anyone saw me. There were 4 riot soldiers holding this building. This was gonna be fun. The riot soldiers are your stereotypical riot gear and police baton soldiers. But these guys had laser batons and the riot gear gave them heightened strength and speed. They also had some, dare I say, shitty energy pistols. I crawled over to one of the soldiers who wasnt being watched and broke their neck. Carefully I took the baton and the pistol. Slowly crawled my way back to my station and checked the shot count in the pistol. I had 6 shots, just enough to take care of the remaining three soldiers. I stood up quickly and shot each soldier twice in the head. First shot to open the riot helmet, second shot to kill. I vaulted over the counter and grabbed the three pistols. These things were so stupid. You couldnt even remove the clips. Once you ran out of shots, the pistol was useless. Nonetheless, i didnt have any choice. I had a laser baton and 18 total shots in 3 pistols.

Upon leaving the building, my motorcycle was one of the few things to survive. It had alot of scratches and damage, but it still worked. The helmet was shattered however. I mounted the motorcycle and took off towards the next closest dmv. Maybe id find some better gear there.

Chapter 3

Pulling up next to the second dmv i immediately noticed 3 things. 1: there was blood everywhere. 2: there were 25 soldiers here. And 3: they all had energy weapons. The reason these things are relevant is because energy weapons dont cause bloodshed. This was the result of something else. Something new i hadnt dealt with yet.

I drove up and ran over 5 of the soldiers. This was probably an incredibly bad idea, seeing as i had 18 shots, enough for 9 kills, and there were 20 soldiers left. Every single soldier turned to me and i, being the absolute genius that i am, welded the front of one of the pistols shut with the laser baton, shot it off, and threw it into thei crowd of soldiers. It exploded, releasing a shockwave of energy and disabling the soldiers. I then used the baton to cut through the riot gear and kill the soldiers. I felt like a badass. That is until a mechanical looking wolf jumped at me and started trying to rip my face off.

The wolf was a frostwolf, except it had been placed into a mechanical frame and its teeth and claws had been replaced with lasers. I tried to bash it off of me with the baton but it just bit it in two. This gave me just enough time to grab an energy pistol and shoot the wolf. It kept trying to kill me amd i wasted a whole clip on it until suddenly, the dog started to levitate in the air and got thrown aside into a wall. I got up and was instantly frozen in place. Thats when.. she walked up.

Chapter 4

The she i am reffering to is ebony. A goth/punk wannabe with light blue tear shaped eyes and black hair with purple streaks. Shes a bitch whos mind got too powerful and now she can move things without touching them. Shes been chasing me for months. Not in a murderous way. Shes just obsessed with me. Ive tried to tell her im gay but she wont listen. And now im at her mercy.

She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I hated it. She looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to free me when a pod came down from the sky and crushed her. Thank god. But i honestly wouldve rathered suffered at her hand than deal with what i had to deal with next...

Out of the pod came the warden. The goddamn warden from sector ⬽:➻. Last id seen him hed been in the same situation as ebony. Crushed to death under a pod. But this time, instead of being on my side, he was here to kill me. He was huge. Like seriously huge. He was at least 8 feet tall and shaped like gaston. Whos gaston? Nobody knows these days. But its basically a way to say "extremely buff and wide". Back to the story. The warden wasnt looking very good, considering the rotten skin, obviously quickly patched together face, and muscles hanging loose out of his skin. His rotting ruined body was held together by an exoskeleton of chromium-tungsten alloy. Nothing i had was gonna cut through that. I was gonna have to get creative here..

The warden had 2 weapons, both of them were his fists. Huge gauntlets that were each about the size of a cow. Definitely bigger than his previous set. They were a golden green metal i couldnt identify. But i didnt want to get hit with one to try and find out. I ran. I ran as fast i could run into the dmv and hid. I could hear the wardens footsteps. It was as if a small earthquake happened each time he took a step.

I peeked over the desk i was hiding behind and saw him punch through the 2 desks opposite to me. It took no effort and i couldve sworn i saw him smile. Obviously i didnt. Cause he didnt have a mouth anymore. But if he did, he definitely wouldve smiled. I took a shot to get his attention and ran off towards the wall. The warden was definitely faster than i expected.

Luckily i managed to dodge the blow by a centimeter. The metal smelled of decaying flesh and popcorn. The wardens blow punched a huge hole in the wall. I hope you see where im going with this.

I ran off to another wall and we repeated this same process a number of times until the building was barely still up. I ran out the doors and threw the baton at the last of the supports, cutting through it and causing the building to collapse in on the warden. He wasnt getting out of that. I decided to search the rubble to see if i could find anything worth taking. I found a new baton, a flame rifle and a few more energy pistols.

The flame rifle was a very interesting design. The sides were painted jet black with flame decals scattered about. You could feel the heat on the inside and it made the gun warm to the touch. Comfortable to hold. Other than that though, it looked like an old fashioned 8.59mm sniper rifle. It had 4 shots remaining, so id have to use it sparingly.

I grabbed some scrap materials out of the rubble to make a holster for it and put it on my back.

The energy pistols just dangled from a keychain. The baton was simply turned off and placed through a hole in the back pockets of my shorts. I ran to my motorcycle and drove off, i needed to find out more. I had questions, and i had a sneaking suspicion that i knew where to find the answers.

I drove off again, i was dirty and there was blood on me and my bike. I probably looked like a serial killer. But i knew that if anyone was still alive, itd be jayden. They were.. well. They were a vampire. They lived in a swampland area and wore sparkly rainbow shirts and a huge sunhat. The sunhat allowed them to go outside in the sun, and they only drank coconut water. They also had a crazy amount of weaponry and used to work at ergon, before being fired for stealing weaponry. By the way, if you havent noticed by now, im using they/them to refer to jayden. Jayden doesnt have a gender. Jayden.. is kind of my crush. It probably has something to do with the fact that theyre the only person on this planet who talks to me. Other than ebony.. but ebony is... not my type i guess. Anyways, back to jayden. Jayden was on the roof of their swamp shack drinking coconut water out of a wine glass. I yelled up at them and they fell off the roof onto my back. I guess i cushioned their fall. Jayden immediately said "What do you need dear" without waiting for me to stand up, and shattered the wine glass. I informed them of the situation and asked the questions i had. Things like "what are the ergon soldiers defences like on their ships" and "how did they reanimate the warden" they had answers.

Jayden told me about the new security measures that had been put in place since id last been on an ergon ship. There was now a code for each teleportation pod and the gaurds had doubled. As for the warden, it turns out jayden was actually the first test run in reanimation sciences, and couldnt answer me because they had been unconcious in a lab when the warden was reanimated. That explained the vampire undead thing. Jayden invited me into the shack where they pulled a nail out of the floorboards and it turned into a ramp to the basement. Down in the basement? Thats where jayden kept their weapons they stole. And boy oh boy were there some interesting ones.

One that immediately caught my attention was the big rocket launcher. It had 3 barrels and each was a different colour, indicating a different effect. One was red, one was yellow, and one was green. The red barrel fired a normal explosive rocket, the yellow barrel fired an electromagnetic pulse rocket, and the green barrel fired an acidic explosive. And the launcher shrunk down to the size of an energy pistol when a button was pressed. It gathered up dirt and dust and garbage around it from the back to quickly convert into ammo but the only downside is that it would be difficult to use more than once in an area.

Jayden picked out an old shotgun. At first i didnt understand why, but then they loaded the clip. The clip was a huge drum that loaded in the bottom of the barrel. The drum was see through and inside you could see sawblades lined up side by side. When they pumped the shotgun a blade got lifted into a slot between the 2 shotgun barrels and started glowing red. When the trigger was pulled, the blade spun at high speeds and fired out of the slot, spinning along the ground like a wheel. It could cut through anything a baton could cut through and seemed to almost follow its target. The gun itself looked like an DP-12, except behind the pump, a large clear drum full of sawblades was in place. The blade sat between the barrels in place of the iron sights and got heated up by an electrical circut.

I also took a laser sword instead of my baton, it was just like the one that [3825968] had, except this one was about an inch longer. The final weapon i took was an acid thrower. It was basically just a watergun with acid in it. Ive always been partial to acidic weapons. If youve heard my other story, youd know why..

Jayden also took a submachine gun that fired freezing rounds. The rounds were essentially glorified waterballoons with liquid nitrogen in them. Though the rounds were bullet sized, enough shots from it would certainly freeze you in place. The freeze gun was about the size of the average human head, and was painted navy blue with blue saphire stripes placed along it. We both left the shack, me with my sword and jayden with a wine glass. We were ready to kick ass and put a stop to this.

We left and immediately both got flung into some trees. Guess who it was. It was ebony. Her body had been found and reanimated. I was starting to see a pattern. And now we had to fight the telekinetic who could kill us with a wave of her hand.

She was levitating. Her eyes were glowing red and her hair was floating in the air. She had a smile of someone about to rip your arms off and beat you with them. I tried to take a shot at her but my hand got knocked aside by an invisible force. So i tried the next best thing. Seduction. Fake seduction. Hopefully the whole dying and coming back from the dead thing didnt make her stop being weirdly obsessed with me.

While i faked surrender and complimented ebony and attempted to seduce her, jayden took aim of their ice gun and shot a burst at ebonys right arm. The arm froze in place and shattered. Hopefully that would lower the strength of her telekinetic abilities. It did. But only by about half. Which meant jayden got thrown into the air as i tried to discreetly unholster my acid gun. It wasnt discreet enough and the gun was knocked from my hand.

The gun flew forwards and the impact of hitting the ground set it off for a second, just enough to spray an acidic burn through her arm. Incapacitating her. Jayden ended up sneaking up behind her and impaling her through the skull with the shattered end of their wine glass. Finally ebony was dead for good.

The acid gun was busted, so we had to leave it behind. We got onto my motorcycle and took off towards my apartment building. We would need food if we were going to be traveling. An apartment complex would probably be full of foods, and alot of dead people who wouldnt care if we took some stuff.

[medusas-side-snake]

Scarred - Chapter 1

Hi guys, this is the first chapter of my new Charlie Weasley fic. It will be updated every 3 days and there are more exciting development for the old fics and some new ones that are happening on my page!! Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in anything

Megan works for the Order, she has been on a mission for them for over a year. A mission that was only supposed to last two weeks. Heritage means that she is on thin ice with the rest of the Order, mix that with some heartbreak by the dragon-loving Weasley boy and a certain Black family member with a vendetta and you have the following story.

The bus to Ottery St.Catchpole was packed with so many people that they were standing in the aisles. Still, I was given a wide berth.

About 13 months ago, Dumbledore sent me to recruit some reclusive magical community following the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Dumbledore asked me specifically because these warlocks did not use wands, they thought wands hindered true ability and, since I am quite proficient at wandless, silent magic, I was the obvious choice.

It should have been easy, especially since He had just unmasked himself in the Ministry.

I had spent a year with the warlocks. Well, it was more like I spent a year imprisoned by the warlocks. They didn't like that people were trying to drag them into a battle that had nothing to do with them, however, being imprisoned by them did allow me to learn a few things.

1. They weren't interested in joining Voldemort. There were a number of His followers that were imprisoned with me, none of them lasted very long once the warlocks realised that they were low pay and didn't really know much about what was actually going on.

2. Even though they didn't want to join the fight, they were still interested in what was happening and why it had all happened. This was why I was still here. Those that came were useful to find out what was happening at the moment, I could tell them everything else. Of course, I didn't. I had no idea whose side they would choose should the fight come to them, which is why I was very careful with what I told them. I mainly fed them lies.

3. Not very many people are crueller than these people. To get them to believe the lies, I had to pretend I didn't want to give them up. This led to… persuasion tactics on their part. Basically, because they are so remote, the Ministry doesn't try to control them, meaning they have no limits on magic, they have no restrictions on magical creatures and there are no laws on what can and can't be done to prisoners.

I stood as my stop came up, pressing the bell to let the bus driver know to stop and making my way to the front of the bus.

A quick “Thanks" mumbled towards the bus driver and I was out and facing the trees, behind which lay The Burrow.

With a hiss of pain, I set off up the steep hill.

What would normally be a 5 minute hike, took me 20 minutes, but when I reached the top and I could see the Burrow, the pain was worth it. Lights shone from the windows scattered around the front of the house. Most importantly, the kitchen light was casting shadows across the garden. Someone was awake.

I started to limp as fast as I could towards the gate, containing the safety, comfort and warmth that I had grown accustomed to since 2nd Year.

Past the broom shed, past the tree that Charlie fell from to break his arm, past the wellie boots by the back step and then I was pushing open the kitchen door.

Faces turned towards me, too many to count when all I could think about was the pain I was in. A beat later I was surrounded, voice shouting over voices until “THAT’S ENOUGH!” That was Molly. Everyone stopped and took a step back as she pushed her way through. She looked shocked but she wasn't looking at me.

“Sirius…” I turned and was met with a wand at my throat. “Is that really necessary?”

“I'm afraid it is, Molly.” Even though he was talking to Molly, he hadn't looked away from me.

“The pureblood party.”

“I was a child!” I interrupted.

“The pureblood party.” He said more forcefully. “Who did we laugh at in my room?”

“Will it matter? You've never trusted me before, will that change if I get the answer right?”

“Are you refusing to answer the question?” He stepped closer and I could see him grip his wand tighter. He was deadly calm.

“Phineas. We were making fun of Phineas, when my mum found us. Does that change how you feel?” He stayed silent, and lowered his wand a couple of seconds too late. I guess that answered my question.

“Come on, dear. Let's get you cleaned up.” Molly started to gently push me towards the stairs. Neither me nor Sirius had looked away from each other yet, but at the push from Molly, I turned my head.

***

Molly didn’t really say much to me while she drew a bath. Everytime she glanced my way, she had tears in her eyes but before she left the bathroom, she did pull me into a hug. A proper mum hug as we both squeezed each other as tight as we could.

“I’m glad you’re back and I’m glad you’re okay. We’ve all been so worried.” As suspected, her voice was thick as she spoke.

I could tell that she desperately wanted to know what had happened, but she knew that she should wait until I told everyone downstairs. I mean, it was either that or she didn't trust me completely after everything that Sirius had no doubt been planting in her head for the past year. As soon as I had that thought I wanted to take it back. That was a path that I did not want to go down.

After I was cleaned up, I put on some of my old pyjamas (which were way too big now after having to save and ration the scraps that I was given to eat over the past year) and made my way downstairs. The voice of those in the kitchen travelled up the stairs, although there must have been an argument going on because they all mashed together and overlapped one another. I stopped a little from the bottom and tried to make sense of it all, though to be honest all I could clearly make out was Molly’s insistent ‘No! No! I won't believe that nonsense!’ After a couple more minutes of listening, which only served to make me more confused, I decided that it was time to go into the kitchen.

“She woul-!” Molly’s loud voice sounded over all the others, but stopped as soon as I was in the light. Just like all the others. So it was me they were talking about. Great. I mean, at least Molly had stuck up for me. Or that's what it sounded like.

I realised that I had hovered for a little too long in the doorway, making the whole atmosphere even more awkward and no doubt let everyone know that I knew what - or better yet who - they were talking about.

“I made stew for dinner. There's some left. Sit down now.” Molly bustled into action.

I sat awkwardly at the empty spot that she had left at the table. I looked up to see who was there. Alastair was sitting next to me, staring at me in earnest with both eyes. Next to him was Bill and next to him, Fleur, who I had only met once, briefly. They had their hands linked on the table, Fleur’s eyes never strayed from the family clock on the wall and Bill was looking over near the door.

The seat directly opposite me was empty.

Next to that was Remus, he was looking at Nymphadora Tonks, who was sitting next to him and she was looking directly over Bill’s head, out the kitchen window.

Next to me on the left was Sirius, he was staring at me with disgust, his usual face whenever he looked at me. I briefly thought about asking him what his problem was, but he had made it clear what his problem was many times. Me.

Molly put a big bowl of stew in front of me and a small plate of buttered bread beside me and I am not ashamed to say that I immediately tucked in. I don’t think that I have eaten so much in such a short amount of time.

I didn’t look up from my food even as Remus started to speak to me.

“So, Megan.” He cleared his throat and I hummed around a mouthful of food to show that I was listening. “Where have you been?” I found this strange as they were all aware of the mission that Dumbledore had given me, they all knew where I had been. Remus must’ve known what I was thinking as he followed up with, “The mission was supposed to be two tweeks at most, no-one has heard from you for over a year.”

“Went to Tralee. They don’t want to join our side, but they don’t want to join the death eaters either, so that’s something I guess.” I said around a mouthful of food. “Been there ever since.”

“Why?” It was Sirius who asked me this, in his usul abrupt tone that he undertook anytime he spoke to me.

‘“What do you mean ‘why’?” I swallowed my food and took on the usual defensive tone that I undertook whenever I spoke to him. “Have you seen the state of me? It wasn't exactly for fun. I didn’t have a choice.”

A hand on the arm from Remus stopped Sirius from replying and I took another bite of my bread.

“Dumbledore’s dead.” I stopped chewing and looked away from Sirius and down at my bowl as Alastair spoke.

“I know.” I said quietly.

“How did you get out?” Remus asked gently.

I swallowed my bread thickly as my stomach turned. I pushed my near-empty bowl away from me. “One of the women who brought me my food helped me escape.” I never even knew her name and she died for me.

“What happened?” Sirius, as gentle as ever.

I knew that this had been coming, and I was dreading it. I moved my shaking hands from my lap and placed them palm side down on the table. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” I put my head up and met his eyes and as soon as what I had said sunk in, I saw his eyes harden.

He opened his mouth to respond but Molly interrupted.

“That’s enough Sirius.” She used her ‘mum’ voice, the one that strongly implied that no-one should argue. And he didn’t, but he wasn’t happy about it. He let out a scoff and turned his head away from me.

That was the last of the conversation until Sirius declared that he was going to bed, and strode off and up the stairs before another word was spoken. Alastair announced that he was off home shortly after and Remus and Tonks that same. That left Bill, Fleur, Molly and myself. Fleur seemed to sense that it was time for her to go to bed and she left with a kiss to Bill’s head.

Molly waited a few minutes to make sure that no-one was on the stairs before she got up from the chair and rushed over to me. Immediately, I was pulled into a hug and we both clung to each other for a minute before another pair of arms joined and we were squeezed even tighter.

I was the first to begin crying. After being away from my family for so long, and after everything that I had been through, it was a bit overwhelming.

Bill started to cry next, his face was pressed into my hair and I could feel the tears he let out.

When she realised that we were both crying, Molly began to gently steer us into the living room. We all sat on the big sofa, Molly on my left with her arm around my shoulders as she pulled my head to rest in the crook of her neck, and Bill on my right, holding my hand and rubbing the back of it with one hand while he wiped his cheeks with the other.

I wrapped my free hand around Molly’s waist and squeezed to bring us closer together.

“They had dragons,” sobs from me “and they used them to,” more hiccuping and sobbing, “to… to…” I couldn’t get my words out and Molly was quick to turn her body to me and wrapped both arms around me. She began to rub my back in an attempt to soothe me.

“It’s okay dear, it’s okay.”

We stayed like that for a while, all mashed together.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“They’re all in bed.” Bill’s voice was still thick with tears. “We thought about waking them while you were in the bath, but with the state that you were in,” He stopped and I squeezed his hand, “we didn’t want to scare them.”

“Okay.” We were silent for a moment longer and I wanted to tell them what had happened to me in the year that I had been away, but I didn’t know where to start.

I took a deep breath.

“When I got to Tralee, there were already two of His followers there.” I took a steadying breath and sat up so that I was no longer leaning on Molly, her arm was still around my shoulders though, so I was grateful for that.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us.” Bill spoke gently as he continued to rub the back of my hand with his thumb.

“No, I want to.” And I began to tell them what had happened.

It took a long time and we took a few breaks as they told me all about what had happened while I was gone. Sometime during the night, Molly made tea and hot chocolate for us all.

It was only when Arthur came home, that we noticed the time, about 7 in the morning. As soon as he saw me, he stopped, dropped the suitcase he was carrying and opened his arms. I rushed forward and was welcomed into another signature Weasley hug as Molly and Bill both joined again.

“You guys look exhausted, why don’t you all go to bed, I’ll wake everyone up and we’ll go into the garden for a bit and give you some peace and quiet.” Tiredness seeped into me with every word of the sentence. Tea, hot chocolate and stories had kept me so awake that, now we had stopped, I could have fallen asleep where I stood.