#we got a peter without pants come on don't pass that up

[romanoffsbish]

In Your Corner

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | WC: 3,885

It had been supposed to be another great year that had come to a close for you. Every year, without fail Tony would throw you a party, but this year he was preoccupied with his family. He hadn't even had the time to send you a text.

That hurt, but you new infants were a lot of work so you gave him and Pepper that pass, but as you entered the communal kitchen you found yourself disappointed again. You'd been used to waking up to the smell of a homemade breakfast made by your best friend, but this year Wanda was off to Cannes with Vis for an impromptu trip, she too had forgotten to text.

The remainder of the team had seemingly also forgotten, each one just hanging around the compound and your lover was off on a mission so you couldn't fault her for the lack of text.

——

So, there you sat, on your shared floor with a pint of whatever frostbitten ice cream was left in your freezer as you watched Friends reruns and cried into your couch cushions as Rachel and Ross fought over the terms of a "break".

The show continued on, laugh tracks sounding off, even when it wasn't really that funny but your focus had since shifted to your dry phone. When you realized no one would remember now as it'd already reached noon you settled into the loneliness and slipped off into a nap.

—

Natasha was stressed to the max on a quinjet, pacing back and forth as Clint flew them home. She'd been gone for two weeks now, and she told Fury that there was no way she'd miss your birthday. It was too important to her that the two of you at least have time to celebrate.

Your life was the most important thing to her, so of course the day of your birth was as well.

So he sent in some agents to replace them as the bulk of the work had been completed and all that was really left was the clean up. There was no reason to extend what had already been extended from a weekend away to two weeks.

When they landed she rushed off the jet and went straight to the common area. She was softly panting from the exertion, but her breathing slowed to nothing as she surveyed the room. Steve and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couches reading, while Sam and Peter were on the ground, the former one cursing as they played a round of Mario Kart.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Clint's eyes widened as he walked in as Natasha growled. The men in the room looked to her confused, the youngest of them all was the first to speak. "We're having a chill day Mrs. Romanoff."

"Wrong answer," Clint tossed out before rushing out of the room to debrief with Hill as he promised Natasha he'd do for her sake.

"Now why would you be doing that Parker?"

"Natasha, we don't have the energy for your riddles, so speak your peace," Bruce boldly piped up from the corner he'd been sat in.

"Banner, I suggest you leave now," she gritted, her fists bunched up, and the scientist lost all of his bite when he remembered the Hulk wasn't going to be on his side. He soon left with his head down and metaphorical tail tucked.

Which was the best gift your wife could honestly offer: his disappearance. He'd been nothing but bitter since you two got together.

"What's wrong Nat?" Bucky asked, much softer and genuine. Of all people here he'd be granted a pass as he'd not been here in the years prior.

"I'm just wondering where the decorations are, and why my wife isn't here surrounded by the people who she celebrates joyously every year."

Expressions of guilt, and trepidation overtook the entirety of the limited team members faces.

"Friday, where's Y/N?" Natasha asked, only adding salt to the wounded men as she replied: "Asleep upstairs on your couch, it appears she had cried herself to sleep about a half hour ago. Shall I wake her for you Agent Romanoff?"

"No, please do let me know if she wakes up." Friday agreed, and she shifted her attention back to the men who'd all stood to their feet.

Natasha's heart had sank at the notion of you feeling the way you did, as if you were easily overlooked, and not valued, so she knew she needed to fix the mess everyone had made.

"Peter, swing to the bakery at once and return with a tray of those cupcakes." The young boy looked defeated, your wife didn’t hold this against him, on account that he was a kid, but she didn’t waver with her glare and that got him to scramble to activate his suit and leave.

“Wilson, Rogers, and Barnes, go decorate the garden, leave behind your generous gifts, then stay out of sight for the rest of the day."

The redhead then shot off texts to everyone else to scold them just in case they too forgot. Then she took off to the gym lockers so she could freshen up without having to enter your shared floor and risk waking you up just yet.

After she changed from her suit into a pair of shorts and a muscle tee she set off to collect you for a day of last minute, but proper plans. The guys had just finished their part, and left to Wilson's apartment so she could fix the day.

As she entered your shared space she was greeted by an obnoxious laugh track, your melted ice cream and your sleeping form.

Natasha took a minute to survey the scene, and after a moment of admiring you her heart effectively broke as she eventually saw the dampened fabric of your couch. If not for her desire to celebrate your birth she'd be stealthily bringing an end to all that made you this sad.

With a quiet, determined step she moved about your shared floor, cleaning up the mess you'd been accumulating ever since she left. Then she settled a kiss to your cheek as she shut off the TV before venturing off down the hallway to run you a warm tub full of water. After she set the place up with a sprinkling of gifts, and a whole lot of love she’d set off to collect you.

To her luck you'd just groggily sat up, she found it funny that the silence is what woke you up as you'd just been snoring through Friends only a half an hour prior. "Natty?"

"Good morning sleepy head," she teased as she moved out of the hallway and into your sight. There was a dullness to your gaze as you tiredly surveyed her, not subtle at all as you looked her over for wounds, then again to check her out.

Natasha smirked, and began to approach you, she settled down beside you and cupped your cheek. There was a glimmer of hope in your gaze, and she spoke fast, making sure not to crush it. "Happy Birthday moya lyubov'."

"You remembered?" You sobbed, a bit dramatic you'd realize later, because of course she did, but in the moment you felt relieved. "Oh detka, how could I ever forget such an important day, hm? It's my most treasured."

Her lips pressed to your cheeks, catching the tears that slipped through your lashes, then they traversed the expanse of your face until they finally landed on your own as she pulled your body into her lap in one swift motion.

"Why's my pretty girl up here alone on her most special of days, hm?" Natasha knew, but she wanted to try and get your perspective and see the best possible way to change it. "Because everybody forgot Natty," you hiccuped as you burrowed into her neck. "Except for Friday."

Natasha hummed, her body slowly rocked yours in an attempt to hopefully soothe you as her own blood boiled with pure contempt.

"My sources say there was a cosmic fluke on Wanda's behalf, because she adores you so."

Natasha prayed for her sake this was true, because though she'd lose in a fight with the unfair advantage of powers, she wouldn't refrain from smacking her around anyways.

"The rest were simply forgetful idiots, but they felt terrible and have started the apology train," she decided to be honest, forgoing her initial plan to lie to protect your feelings. The men didn't deserve such shielding, they instead deserved to stew in their guilt for eternity.

"I-I don't mean to be dramatic Natty," you sniffled, "But I never forget anyone, why would they forget me? I just want the same in return."

"I understand detka, it's fair to expect," she agreed with a soft tone, "I just want you to know I would never forget, I only didn't text because I was racing home to surprise you."

"I know you would never forget honey, some years it's you who has to remind me," you giggled, and it instantly brought a smile to your lovers face to see you already perking up.

"Well, in the spirit of such a monumental occasion I have ran a tub for you, and set out a new outfit for you to slip into for our plans."

Your head whipped back from its place on her shoulder, face instantly lighting up, "Plans?"

Natasha shook her head with a fond smile, her fingers then raised up to her lips to imitate a zipper and so you whined: "Natty please?"

"Detka, I want it to be exciting, so go get ready and meet me in the garden when you're done."

The two of you stood to your feet, reluctantly moving apart, but before you fully separated your wife pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

"Take your time, and relax your mind Y/N." She pecked your lips a final time, then left.

As you entered your room your heart swelled at the sight of the outfit she'd bought, you'd been eyeing the fit for awhile, and of course she had been watching you just the same. Nothing was ever going to get by your super spy of a wife.

Once you finished your soak, with a new set of body products, you slid out and into the new royal green cropped sweater vest, and skirt. Then after handling your skincare routine you skipped all the way to the garden where you found your wife stood there patiently waiting.

Natasha subtly gulped at the sight of you, and for a moment the both of you remained silent as you looked the other over. She had changed from her casual locker attire into a loose fit black button up polo, with a pair of grey slacks. It was a simple choice, but still deeply alluring as her arms managed to bulge out the stretchy fabric, and her pants were form fitting enough that you could admire her toned behind.

Once you reeled in your devious gaze you were reduced to a woman on the verge of another breakdown. There stood your wife with a bouquet of black roses, and honeysuckles. It had become her goal to pick you meaningful flowers, and the contrast in bright colors meant to symbolize eternal love, intermixed between the more dark, morbid version of the classic rose was for an that leads to a beginning.

In the moment your curiosity was peaked, but you settled on letting the day play out before you sought out clarity. Your wife was cunning, and never moved without a plan, and you were never one to doubt her so you'd easily wait.

Natasha's free hand hung in the air, beckoning you to approach her, and as you accepted she swiftly pulled you into her body. She lowered the bouquet, allowing you the chance to smell the unique combination before she set them in a vase on the center of the decorated table.

“You look gorgeous love.” Natasha blushed, and softly huffed, “That was my line detka.”

As you giggled mischievously into her chest she gave the nervous spider-teen who was lingering on the side of the compound a thumbs up from behind your back. Peter lowered the pink box, and white bags onto the table with his webs, then as previously instructed he vanished.

“He’s just a kid Natty,” you called your wife out as you tried to pull away from her, but she kept your bodies connected with a hand on your lower back, as her lips sought your warmth.

Once satisfied she let you go, eyes admiring the way that yours stayed shut an extra beat, you always took a moment to recover, even when it was just a peck on the lips. You swore you’d never get used to the feeling of hers against yours. It was electrifying, and no matter how brief there was never a lack of love to be found.

Once you shakily breathed out through your nose, and your eyes fluttered open you were met with your wife who was patiently waiting. Natasha pursed her lips, then doubled down. “That’s true Y/N, that’s why I still let him see you, but he also has a phone with a calendar.”

You knew not to push it, because in the end she wasn’t wrong. Instead you thanked the boy via text, and put your phone in dnd, no longer caring about the sudden influx of well wishes, as your greatest one to be was sat before you.

Natasha handed you a sandwich, and then after listening to you animatedly tell her stories of the guy’s stupidity, she reflected back and told you all about Clint’s on their mission. Then as if having the power to summon him, the man was beside you with a candle and a lighter.

“Happy Birthday Y/N/N,” he greeted with a grin and a stubbly kiss to your temple. “The kids made you this,” he passed you a paper with the whole Barton family on it, and right to the side of them was you in Nat’s arms with Liho on your shoulder. Then he passed you an envelope, “And Laura purchased you this.”

While Natasha pulled out a gorgeous cupcake decorated to look like a peony you tore it open.

“Oh my gosh, no way!” You shrieked, “We’re going with them to Disneyland Natty!” She met your enthusiasm with a nervous chuckle, then seamlessly blew passed her anxieties as she lit the solo candle and began to sing. Clint joined her in the celebratory tune, but fortunately for you your wife’s melodic voice carried the tune.

Clint slipped off a moment later, with a to go container of various flower inspired cupcakes, then Natasha guided you to her sports car. It never ceased to make your heart flutter when she naturally moved to buckle you in. There was never a time in your whole entire time knowing her that she didn’t do this. It was actually how you realized she liked you in the way you did her. Because once you actually saw how she unbuckled Tony’s for him in contrast.

“Where are we going?” Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly, “Stop asking baby girl, you know I’m a steel fortress with this stuff.”

You grumbled all the way, until you saw the arcade, with Yelena and Kate grinning outside. Natasha couldn’t contain her laughter as you raced from the car and into her sisters arms. The blonde spun you around, then after you were back on the ground Kate pulled you in.

“Come on Y/N,” Yelena shrieked, “We must play as many games as possible. The final winner gets the crown in Kate Bishop’s hand.

You raced off with a shout of: “Game on!”

“Thanks for coming so last minute, I know you just got home from an undercover mission,” Natasha genuinely said, and the archer turned to her with a tired smile. “It was the least we could do, plus, look at how happy they are.”

Natasha did look, her eyes hardly ever left you to begin with, but in moments like these, where you were in the middle of unbridled joy, she especially wanted to be a spectator. Seeing you and Yelena playing like little kids always made her heart soar, and her mind run with dreams.

Of a future similar to this moment, but with house parties and summer barbecues. It was all she wanted, and she reckoned it was time you two got started on the rest of your journey. So, after about an hour of free fun, where you beat Lena in the final game, reigning you champ she called out to you both to say it was time to go.

“You’re welcome for letting you win,” Yelena angrily said, making you giggle as you realized she most certainly did no such thing. Her eyes narrowed, but a grin soon overtook her face as you yanked her into a goodbye hug. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate my birthday.”

“I will never miss a chance to beat you at air hockey Y/N Romanoff.” Her arms tightened, and she softly whispered: “Happy Birthday.”

“Okay, let’s wife swap now.” Natasha’s tone was playful, but a spark of jealousy was easily detected. “Hold your panties Natalia. Y/N is all yours. Also Kate Bishop is my fiancé, not wife.”

“She’ll be your was with that attitude,” you teased as you shifted to say goodbye to the archer. Who, as was her job, coronated you the ‘Arcade Supreme’ just before slipping you a gift bag then taking off with her grumbling fiancé.

“We’ve got a few more stops detka.” Natasha escorted you back to the car, then the rest of the adventure unfolded as she took you to all of your favorite places. Including the cat cafe where she surprised you with an adoption.

You’d been begging for months to get Liho a girlfriend, but then you ended up getting a male orange tabby, with a missing eye. “He looks kinda like Fury, let’s take him to shield!”

“Detka, I want to live a long life with you,” she teased as you held the cat up. “Stop tempting your fate with the doppelgänger of our boss.”

“At least you agree with me,” you huffed, then set the cat back down before letting your wife take you out of the cafe with the promise of returning in the morning for the little fella.

“You think Liho will mind that his girlfriend is a boy?” You shrugged, smirking around the straw of your frappe. “Love is love Natty.”

It was encroaching evening now, so you’d figured that the night was coming to a close, but when your wife passed the exit for the compound you realized her plan was ongoing.

With the windows rolled down, and your hand interlocked with your wife’s as she drove you across city lined you began to realize the burden of your depressing start had dissipated. The tension in your body melted away, and in a show of direct appreciation you brought her knuckles up to your lips and kissed them.

“What was that for?” You were looking out the window at the vast greenery of New York, but you could hear her smirking and had to fight off the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I need a reason to show you, my dear wife, affection?”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose not, but if you were saying thanks, I’d also like the same gesture deposited upon my lips please.”

Just as much as you were left a total mess after each kiss, she was left with an insatiable need for more. If she had it her way you’d never part. Her lips would be against yours all day, and if not there, at least somewhere on you.

Before you could even consider her proposal the redhead had pulled over abruptly, the blur of greenery was now more clear to you, and a feeling of serenity washed over you at the view.

“Where are we love?”

Your wife was nervous, something she rarely ever felt, and never let anyone see. Today is going to change the trajectory of your life for good, and she just hopes you’re happy with it.

“Home.” You furrowed your brows as you whipped your head around to meet her gaze after processing the word she’d just blurted. Seeing her nervous smile upon doing so made you lose the frown of confusion. A much softer crease overtook your face as you matched her smile as best you could. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Natasha unbuckled herself, then she hopped out and gently pulled you from the car. “I, well actually, Tony and I have been working together on this for awhile now.” You cut her off with a gasp of genuine surprise, “You and Stark have been working together and he gets to live to tell others about it?” Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could clarify you gasped again, this time with a horrified look.

“Oh my gosh Natty, did you kill him?” Her face fell into one of pure mortification. “What? No!”

You cast her an unbelieving glance, but then you lost your edge, tone obviously teasing, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t text me today…”

Natasha glared at the notion, and vowed to trip the wires in his suit for such a slight. Then she remembered his hologram that was waiting for you with birthday wishes beyond the hedges.

“Detka, please focus,” she chided, then pulled on your hand until you were just beyond the greenery, and stood before a gorgeous home. The walls were painted a blue tinted grey, with black trimmings, and it was two stories tall.

“This is,” she began, but you cut her off with a squeal, “Our home? Are we finally…” Natasha cut you off next, “Yes, we only have one final mission detka. To settle down for good now.”

“I love you so much Natasha!” She gladly took you into her arms for a hug, then before you could protest she scooped you up like she did on your wedding day, and ran the both of you beyond the threshold of the home. Her lips slammed to yours in the heat of the moment, but the kiss was weak as neither of you could refrain from smiling like idiots. “I love you too Y/N, more than I ever dreamed possible.”

When the night came to a close a few hours later, you heard your phone ding just as your eyes had shut. You begrudgingly peeked an eye back open. "Happy Birthday Y/N/N, I had no service, but I promise you a stack of chocolate chip pancake's when I return on Monday. ❤️"

You smiled, grateful for Wanda's gesture, albeit late it was much better than never at all. All you ever wanted was to have a group of people to love you the same way you'd loved them.

With Natasha pressed into you from behind, an arm wrapped tightly around you as she snored softly you knew without a doubt that you were at the very least loved with reciprocity by her.

—

[chromations]

The one story that scares me the most away from substance use is Jimmy Page. It's not an easy topic to go by, yet I'm still hesitant to post this.

Finding out the pure severity of Jimmy's health between '75-'83, mainly talking about 1977. This whole topic makes me so sad, but I always keep looking.

More under cut, it's a long post unpacking that year. Feel free to add.

We all know he did heroin, starting in 1975, and that he's always been skinny and underweight. But it started amping up in '76, taking more with a noticeable weight loss.

That man was practically on the brink of death from 1977. Between constant shows, rarely eating save for a liquid diet, rarely sleeping, and his addictions... it's scary. He had a weight goal that'd been just about reached: between 125-130 Ibs at 5'11½". (And while an inaccurate measurement of health for those heavier, this falls into 17 on the BMI chart: severely underweight) He dropped a few waist sizes (men's 29 in '75, down to men's 26) and had refused to talk to Peter Clifton after he'd included wide shots of Jimmy in TSRTS and a single roll of his stomach, as it made his ass "too wide." The black dragon pants didn't fit anymore, and fell off during a show. You can see him in the black dragon suit plus a belt during the Oakland photos. Note that these pants had completely fit him without need of a belt two years prior. He ended up at around a men's 26 waist. He'd stopped eating completely for a few days in a row during some tours.

Safe to say, Jimmy was extremely weight conscious. I think he met the criteria for an eating disorder diagnosis, as well.

There's accounts of him having stage fright and anxiety. He'd show up to '77 tour shows completely exhausted, nodding off constantly. Peter Grant had ended up slapping him awake and giving him coke just so he wouldn't pass out.

Then, there's the Chicago '77 show. Jimmy, sick on stage. His eyes are bloodshot, he's had nothing but orange juice in the past 60 hours, along with no sleep in that time frame. Sick from smack and coke, along with all of the previous factors of being an anxious wreck. It's a wonder he got through the first 7 songs before having to sit down during Ten Years Gone, calling for a 5 minute break, and then canceling the show. He couldn't go on that night, just nearly crumpling to sit. This is the story that scared me the most.

Linked below, the show is recorded up until Robert announces the show is canceled.

https://youtu.be/YVCiBd1oodU?feature=shared

I remember reading this account from Dave Northover (Jones' personal assistant):

This is what shattered my heart, initially reading it. How harshly drugs shattered Jimmy's brain, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There's also a quote from Jimmy in an interview from the year: "I'm not into solid foods very much. I can't remember when I last had a steak. A few tours ago. It's just that you don't want too much in your stomach when you're playing. And there are some places you can't eat after you come back from the gig." He then notes that the banana daiquiris that he'd been consuming all the time are the answer to any problems, "having that every day and nothing to eat at all."

Additionally, In that interview, Jimmy says that earlier on in Zeppelin, Jimmy "had really been eating" and that he'd tried on the clothes from when he was in school, only for it to be very loose. It worries me more to remember that Jimmy stopped school at the age of 16 and had always been underweight. High metabolism, illness prone, and bouts of glandular fever during his time with The Crusaders (still was a teenager), not improved one bit by his undereating.

It's hurtful to hear how, more often than not, the media will praise a celebrity for their skinny figure, even if they're extremely unhealthy with it. Jimmy Page is no exception, as people praised him for his figure during his age.

Heroin is no joke, and I wouldn't wish the addiction it so easily presents to anyone. Withdrawals and smack sickness is scary to even witness, completely altering the person it grips. People often note how jimmy was an asshole, especially in the late 70s, but when dealing with a heroin addiction, with what is basically an eating disorder, high anxiety, with the goal of living your music, the goal of pleasing the crowd, getting the job done, and most of all, surviving, the way you act isn't at the front of your mind. I'm sure Page was aware he was an asshole, but with what he was dealing with, it's not important. Instant gratification, reward, matters more. Not dying matters more. Getting the next hit matters more. His image mattered more.

No matter how much of an asshole he was, and some of the reprehensible things he'd committed earlier on, I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. You see the light leave his eyes as the years went on, you know that while he recovered, those were the darkest years of his life that we know, and there's a reason he'd rarely talk about it: Who would want to?

I've heard multiple people say that if we hadn't lost Bonham in '80, then within those few years, we would've lost Page. It's a wonder he was able to still go on in the early 80s.

Even comparing photos of him in 73, 75, and 77, you go from a "safer" underweight, to his ribs completely visible.

I'm glad we still have him around. This whole topic is not easy to go by, and while most anti drug campaigns don't sway me much, it's the slow / fast decent into all of this that gives me such a strong reaction.

I don't appreciate seeing the way it's so casually joked about amongst the online zeppelin areas. People do take it seriously, but there's always the insensitive ones.

(Adding on, since I accidentally posted this as a draft)

Many people blame page for the effects of his addiction: Sloppy guitar playing, distancing from the rest of the band, assholery behavior.

You can't fault an addict for falling addicted. You can fault them for starting it, maybe, and you can criticize them for all you want. Still, a heroin addiction isn't just as cigarettes. It's the easiest to fall addicted to, and one of the hardest to quit, especially when a physical dependency is grown. Withdrawal symptoms could start early, and extreme too. Most heroin addicts trying to quit will relapse within the first day or two, it's not easy as that.

Considering how unhelpful the help was at the time, quitting cold turkey at these points would probably worsen his condition for a while, considering how rail thin Jimmy had been. The people around him grew worried, grew mad, and I find myself wondering how he could still pick up the guitar and rail out the LA Forum 1977 show, producing banger shows through 77, yet the shoddiest shows as well.

There could be little done about treatment of eating disorders as well, due to medical knowledge and stigma around it. I'll sympathize with this part, having the experience of one: ED recovery on your own is rough. I don't know how jimmy got out of heroin and an ED, and I don't think the process of that should become business unless necessary.

If you find yourself falling into these vices, seek help. Nothing about this is normal: not the lifestyle, nor the pressures.

Jimmy's case will always haunt me. I'd wish this upon no one.

[silent-raven13]

Sunflower, will you...

Miles turns his body on his seat wearing all white since him and are friends celebrating him and Hobie's anniversary. They decided to do a beach party with at Miguel's private beach house in 928 world.

Everyone is always impressed how much money Miguel has, even when it comes to owning HQ and multiple houses- probably Lyla is able to make him rich quick with her skills.

Anyway, everyone was out wearing nice beach dresses and outfits to fit the warm Spring celebration. There was games, drinks, food and music on the large patio. Peter 616 working with Miguel on the grill, since he claims his burgers are amazing, while Miguel claims his carne asada is better than Peter's basic burgers.

"Oh come on, Miggy. My burgers are true! You can't have a beach party without burgers?" Peter said out loud wearing an apron that said 'The Grillfather', while bits of his gray hair fell over his head.

Miguel scoffs, "Pfft, una carne asada is the best way to good. Así!" He flip a large piece of steak on the other part of the grill while he wore 'Kiss the Chef' apron. He ran his mix of brown and gray hairs back with his hand feeling the windy sea salt breeze. "Gabriella, tráeme una cerveza!" He needed a cold one for today's perfect weather.

"Yeah,. Mayday! Get me one too!" Peter shouted.

Jess stood with MJ with a chuckle, "Men and their grills."

"Tell me, about it. Peter bought so many BBQ books to make the perfect burger." MJ giggles.

"OKay. Okay!" Gabriella said out loud with Mayday follow her as the two were busy playing Volleyball with Gerald and Billie.

Miles chuckles watch those two old Spider-men never stop bickering at each other. Gwen came by wearing a white tank top wearing flowy linen skirt, she had her long blond hair still dyed in rainbow colors underweight style, she still had her shave side with long side bangs , "Ohh, looks like your bae is coming this way."

"Hahaha, of course." Miles faces his partner, seeing Hobie walking over wearing loose linen casual short sleeve button up shirt, and some shorts with flip flops. Of course, he's wearing in black with some Hobie's punk touches to remain true to his fashion aesthetics. His button up shirt wide open to reveal his bare chest.

Unlike Miles, he wore all white with a bit of yellow flowers and cute designs and long cotton mix linen pants with flip flops. Pavtri stood with his wavy long hair tied into a man bun, then grins showing a bit of wrinkle smile, "Ohhh, what's he up too?"

Hobie came up to his partner with a smile on his face seeing his old Spider band friends around them. "Sunflower..."

"Bae." Miles smiles at him, showing the same love as they were sixteen. Nothing has change. Hobie had his longer thick wicks and grew out a goatee, which looks so handsome on him.

The tall man got down on one knee making everyone looking over with snickering and smiles. "Sunflower, will you marry me?" He grins widely with a playful smile, he reveals a box with a simple ring.

"Awee!" The women were awed at the romantic gesture while the men were chuckling.

Miles couldn't help letting out a shrill of giggles, "Hobie, we been married for thirty years now. You don't need to ask me every year to marry you."

Gwen and Pavtri laughs out loud. Hobie gave a puppy pout with his eyes going big like a teary Precious Moment character, "So, is that a no?"

"Aye, este chico." Miguel commented at this ridiculous proposal. The Spider Punker always do this since those two married.

Gabriella, a woman laughs at her dad's words as she passed him a beer, "Papá, you shouldn't be drinking so much. The doctor said you need to watch your intake."

"Ah, that doctor can go kiss my ass. I work too damn hard as Spider-man." He took a cold beer.

Mayday giggles, "I think it's cute. Hobie really loves Miles." A young Spider-woman with long wavy red hair as she handed a beer to her dad.

Miles cup his husband's face with his thumb gently massaging Hobie's cheek, his big doe eyes staring deep at his Punker's eyes, "Hobie, mi amor. No matter how many times you ask me, I will always say yes! I love you. So, yes, I will marry you." He gave him a peck on the lips.

Hobie happily took the kiss as the two been happily together in their fifties. He hugs his husband, "That's what I like to hear." Hobie put the ring in his husband's ring finger which made Miles giggles.

"Bae, you gotta chill with the rings. I don't have enough fingers for all the rings you give me." Miles kisses his husband again.

"I can't help myself, luv. This one is special, I made it mi-self, darling." The punker saw his husband's smiles widen showing more of his wrinkle smile. Even though, they were older they still look good for their age. His heart melts still seeing his Sunflower's big honey-brown eyes as if they first dated.

"Mm, then I'll have to wear this everyday then." Miles admire the gift, "I love it, bae. Thank you."

"Anything for you."

Billie already a grown woman happily went over to hug her big brother, "Awe, so cute. Hobie, how long your gonna do this? Don't you think proposing him every year is a bit much?"

"He loves me, boo-boo." Miles hugs his little sister. She grown to be a Detective in helping him solve cases on the Justice System and him being Spiderman.

"I will always show my Sunflower's my dying love, right luv." Hobie's one arm wraps on his husband's shoulders.

"I say keep going. It's so cute!" Pavtri said happily.

"For real, it's not hurting anybody." Gwen added.

Gabriella went over being so happy, "I wish I can find someone like you two! Ugh, but the dating community is sooo toxic right now."

"Your world, too!" Mayday gasps in shock, "Same!"

"Yeah, me too!" Billie let go of her brother to talk to the other women. "Like it's so shitty even when you try to get a good sneaky link."

"Aye, language!" Miles said, even though his sister is a grown woman, he always see her as his little boo-boo.

"Awe, what did I do?" Billie pouts.

Mayday giggles, "Come on, Miles! We're grown. We like having sex and meeting random guys on-" Gabriella roughly nudges her as she spotted their dad's glaring over. "Aye May, sshhhh! Our dads are listening!"

"Opps!"

"What was that May?" Peter asked in a serious tone.

"Nothing!" Mayday quickly said.

Miguel arched over to his daughter, "Hija, who are you seeing?"

"No one, papá!"

"Lyla!"

"No, papá! You can't make me be your little girl forever!"

"Like hell I can!" Miguel huffs.

Miles and Hobie chuckles as they got up to walk along the beach with their hands together, They tightly held each other, "Happy 30th anniversary, luv." Hobie felt Miles' head laying his head on his shoulder as they found a spot to watch the sunset.

"Mmm, happy anniversary, mi amor." Miles kisses his husband cheek. "I love you so much."

"Me too, darling. Me too." They nose nuzzle as the sunset and they kiss as a way to complete their perfect day. The party continues on with the craziness of their friends and families.

[blueberriesjust]

Bad Decisions

Pt 1

Trigger Warning

Mentions of cheating and birth complications

This is a fanfic about a love hate relationship with Peter Criss that never seems to go right.

You were never one to stay in the same spot for more than a year but when you met Peter all of that changed. He seemed perfect. Oftentimes you and Peter messed around without protection. After two years of hopping you wouldn't get pregnant, it happened. You woke up every morning sick and you started craving random things. You decided to tell Peter about it.

The day seemed off and the weather was dreary as you pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. You had an odd feeling in your chest as you walked up the stairs and unlocked the door. It only got worse when you walked into his room and everything seemed to stop. Peter was cheating on you with another girl and your heart broke. You stayed calm and just turned around and walked out slamming the door behind you. He ran after you pulling his pants back on yelling but you didn't hear a word. You tried to stay in New York but since you didn't have that anchor you drifted away. You hopped from town to town just trying to find someone or something to keep you afloat. You were close to your due date and you had wandered back to New York. You had told your parents a while ago and they were happy to let you stay.

"You know (y/n), I was just like you when I was younger." You mom said with a fond look on her face. "I hated staying in one place for too long. I had found your father but he cheated on me causing me to go off traveling again." 

"You've told me this a million times"

"I know, I know, I just want to make sure you don't feel like you're alone" she teared up "I felt like I was alone but in reality I could have always gone back to my parents. Yet I didn't and I regret it they both passed before I could see them again."

"I will always come back."

A month passed before you went into labor and it definitely was chaotic. Your mom was freaking out, your dad passed out. You were in so much pain. Everything was going smoothly though. You delivered a beautiful healthy little boy. Then everything changed. You were giving birth to a second child. He wasn't healthy at all. You screamed you couldn't lose him. The doctor and nurses rushed to save the baby. They tried everything and eventually it worked. The baby had to stay in the hospital until it was healthy but other than that he was alive. You named baby number 1 Charles and baby 2 Christopher. 

As soon as Charlie and Chris were old enough to travel you set off again. From town to town and place to place. You had met Stacy, Gwen, and Tarra along the way. You all decided to form a band called Hysteria. Eventually the boys got to the age where they had to attend school so you went back to New York and set up shop. It was 1973 the boys were 5. Years passed and your band was gaining traction by 1975 you had millions of fans.

"I have a wonderful idea but I'll need your opinion on it" this caught everyone's attention the manager usually did things and apologized later.

"Well, what is it?" The lead singer Stacy asked.

"I think we should ask your fans if there is a band they would like you to collaborate with on an album."

"I'm surprised you asked" you stated getting a glare from the manager

"I just wanted to warn you that you have an interview at 5 am" he said quickly before ducking out of the room.

"5 AM!" the Lead Guitarist shouted

"Calm it Tarra you knew there was going to ba a some sort of surprise" Gewn the Bassist said 

"It's already 3am two hours of sleep isn't enough" you stated blandly already done with the whole situation. 

After you all had gotten ready, which took Tarra the whole two hours, you arrived at the news station late as usual. Hair and makeup moved fast and before you knew it you were infront of the camera. 

"So Stacy your the lead singer how does it feel to be up front and center in front of millions of people?" 

"It's stressful but also fun wouldn't trade it for the world" 

"Gwen your bass is great and so are the backing vocals" the reporter fan girled "and Tarra absolutely amazing rifts I don't know how you do it" she was so excited when she got to you "The drum solos and song lyrics are better than anything else I've heard" 

"That's very kind of you" you said you were always the nicest in the band at least to fans. 

"So I heard from a little birdy that you are planning a collaboration album" the reporter said slyly. Your bandmates looked around at one another. They decided to let you take the reins on this one. 

"Yeah that is true, we just thought it'd be fun for the fans to see two of their favorite bands collaborate." you continued after a pause "unfortunately we don't know what our fan bases other favorite band is so we decided that we will ask them" you looked over at your manager who was holding up a magazine. You took the magazine from him and displayed it to the camera. "You can tell us who your favorite band is by getting one of these magazines and sending in the information card with your favorite band on it and why the band should be picked." In reality the manager didn't care why the band should be picked he just cared which band had the most cards. 

Eventually the interview ended and you all headed back to the studio. By the time you had gotten back to the studio there were already millions of information cards sent in the bands ranging from Queen to ABBA and even some bands that were entirely different from your band's sound. It took days to count the cards you and your band mates helped but you had to get other people's help too your parents even helped. After days and days of counting and more and more cards being sent in the manager chose to cut off the cards and count only what they already had. 

"The top three bands were" he looked over at you "drumroll please" you sighed but did it anyway. 

"At number 3 with 50,000 votes we have..... Queen" Stacy sighed she thought the would have won.

"At number 2 with 60,000 votes we have..... ACDC" Gwen and Tarra were heartbroken; they wanted them to win.

"And at number 1 with 60,001 votes we have…. KISS." The room went quiet, they all knew your opinion on the drummer. Everyone waited for your response. 

"Well it's what the fans want, we have to give it to them" 

"Are you sure we don't have to we can just say ACDC won" Stacy said 

"No no, it's fine I'll just keep my distance and everything will be ok" you were heartbroken by this news you had been trying everything to stay away from Peter. The boys were fine with not knowing their dad; there was no reason for him to be in your life.

[everythingcollided]

Petrichor [Peter Parker]

(credit to owner)

Summary: Peter shows up, soaked from the rain, to explain something said in the heat of the moment. 

Word Count: 3064

Warnings: Swearing, Checkered boxers 

A/N: Here’s another imagine no one asked for. If any of you want to maybe read one you did ask for, hit up that request box ;).

“I’m not giving up Spider-Man for you!”

Peter’s eyes were bright fire, burning embers packed into two powerful orbs that sent me flinching back. Hands clenched into fists at his side and distance from me long in a way that made my stomach curl, he spoke softer, “If you can’t accept it...then go.”

A sound comes from my parted lips. A gasp of surprise or a whimper, it’s one that resembles the crack that appears against my heart. His words are a slap - no, they’re a blow to my side with a sword - and no amount of clearing my throat gets the lump dislodged from it. My eyes burned and in seconds I knew hot tears would tumble from them. I didn’t want him to see them, have the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me, so I gave up my fight. I’ve never been good at reciprocating fire, especially when it came to those I loved. Peter fell into the deepest part of that category.

Without a word, I grabbed my bag and left. The flood came the second the elevator doors shielded me from his floor.

For my seventh birthday, my mom got me a fish.

A beautiful betta fish a shade of indigo I’d never seen before, named Shimmer by my young mind. For months I’d kept her alive on my own, talking through the glass bowl lit up on my nightstand for hours after I returned home from school. Shimmer was my first friend, my best friend and though she never talked back, I loved her.

I cried for weeks after she died.

My parents thought there was something wrong with me, asking around their friend circles to see if any of their children broke after a pet died. I learned that I grew attached to things quickly, especially after I named a boy my best friend for picking up a yellow crayon of mine. And later, when that boy moved away, I found that when I lost those I was attached to, it was painful.

Leaving that apartment physically hurt me. Days have passed one after another, I’ve never been thankful that Christmas break has begun - and that’s saying something. I sit around in Peter’s Midtown School of Science and Technology sweatshirt and wish that we could be spending our time away from school together. Plans of binge watching the Star Wars movies morphed into stuffing my face with ice cream and playing How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days on a loop until I’ve run out of tears to cry.

I haven’t yet.  

I don’t know if we’ve broken up or are on some kind of break but I feel like I’ve lost Shimmer all over again. My chest is tight with a pressure that only fits the definition of ache and my head has been pounding since I pulled into the parking garage of my apartment complex.

“Just go.”

I wipe at my cheek with a dark blue sleeve pulled over my fingertips and unload another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into my mouth. My attachment to it does nothing to soothe my garbage mood. Rain splashes against the windows in harsh strokes, the battering of it on the fire escape outside the glass creating a symphony of soft clangs that soothe my bones. I curl in on myself, finding no shame in inhaling the scent engraved in the threads of Peter’s sweatshirt. A sweet smell, subdued by something I’ve never been able to place. I allow my lashes to flutter and shield my eyes from the poignant scene that’s been drawing away all my happy energy and replacing it with something worse.

A powerful knock at the door draws me from the haze of content I’d constructed.

Groan slipping past my lips without sanction, I burrow further into my arms and convince myself that I just imagined the sound. The aroma of Peter brings the image of him to the black of my eyelids and comfort flows in waves as I watch the colors splash against each other, painting a picture of a boy laughing, blushing.

Another knock.

I grumble, giving a soft punch to the cushion beside me before teetering to my feet and padding over to the door. I’m ready to curse at the person who disturbed my semblance of peace, even if that semblance included the reason it was crushed in the first place. I look through the peephole to ensure myself I’m not about to get stabbed and leave a gruesome scene for my Mom to come home to post-business trip.

My breath hitches at the sight and my fingers grab for the locks before I even fully comprehend the face on the other side, click clicking until he’s standing right there, right in front of me. Ears filling with the beats of my heart and palms beginning to grow moist, the anger rises in my throat. I open my mouth to scream, to yell, to hit him, when I fully realize what he’s wearing.

Peter is soaked from head to toe, thin navy jacket shining minorly with the appearance of water and hair stuck to his forehead like glue. His entire figure shakes and though his hands are stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, I know it isn’t helping when I notice the growing stain on the blue carpet decorating the hallway. His face is pale and his dark eyes are fixed only on me, the bags bordering below highlighting the rich color of them.

All that anger melts away. “Good God, Peter it’s freezing outside what were you thinking? Hurry up you’re soaking the carpet. Do you need a towel? Of course you need a towel, I’ll go get one for you, maybe some clothes too if I can find them. We don’t need you getting sick. Be right back.” I’m halfway down the hall that leads to the bathroom when I catch up with myself. I stop in my tracks, notice the adrenaline thrumming through my veins, the blood occupying the entirety of my face.

“Shit.”

Stupid Peter Parker. Stupid Rowan. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should be leaving him out there shivering and miserable, or throwing books at him, or anything other than aiding him.  “You are such an idiot,” I mutter to myself as I grip a towel, “You literally have no self-defense mechanism, what is wrong with you.”

I berate myself with no successful result as I clamber throughout my room in search of Peter’s sweater - the first one I’d ever stolen from him. It’s buried far back in my closet on a pristine plastic hanger that I almost break in my haste to get this boy out of here before I fall apart, managing to trip twice on my run back to the main room.

I throw the two articles at him, and I know the burst of exercise I completed isn’t the only reason why my breaths are heavy.  “Put that on, I’m going to make you some hot chocolate, you’re shivering.”

“Rowan-“

I send him a glare, both in payback of what he’s made me go through the past few days and a refusal to whatever argument he’s going to make. I resent the way my heart drops when his features turn sad, and he begins to tousle his hair in the provided towel as a gesture of surrender. I can’t help but watch him for a moment while he moves, caught off guard by how much my body is urging me to reach out to him.

He’s shaking, and it’s not until I clench my fist that I realize I am too.  

My stare is diverted quickly when he begins to lift his head and I practically dive into the kitchen.

I make the scorching drink with mechanical actions since it’s been engraved into my mind how he likes his hot chocolate since I gave it to him that first day. It gives me a larger window to think.

I have no idea why he’s here.

Is he trying to break my heart some more? To dump me officially? The thought brings an uncomfortable twisting to my stomach and I have to put down the warming mug because my hands have begun to shake. I tug at my sleeves and run fingers through my wild hair to get it to stop, to no avail. My surroundings are growing blurry due to the tears burning at my eyes and my throat is closing up and I can’t breathe. I’ve never felt like this before, probably because Peter’s different than anything I’ve ever lost. Things like Shimmer and that boy I never had to see again, but the subject this time around is sitting in my living room, doing just fine without me.

And I’m in here crumbling.

I sprinkle the last crumbles of cinnamon onto the previously deposited whip cream and take precious gulps of air. Come on, Rowan, you can do it. It’s just a stupid boy. A stupid, adorable boy that you love. No big deal. Nope nope.

I step back into the living room.

Big deal.

Big deal.

Peter’s head snaps toward the small patter of my feet on the hardwood and I think my lungs compact in on themselves in record time. Messy hair beginning to gain its natural curl as it dries and eyes that look like the honey stored in some kitchen cabinet makes me freeze up. The towel I’d given to him is wrapped around his shoulders clad in the dry sweater.

But his pants are not there.

He is not wearing pants.

“Shit, I didn’t get you pants.” My cheeks burn, eyes traveling up to the red checkered fabric before I can stop them. I bite at my lips, cringing at my idiocy and trying really hard to keep my focus on Peter’s face as I tread over and hand him the hot chocolate.

He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” A sound erupts from his throat directly after his words and blood has time to fully rush to my face before he can stutter out the next string, “Shit, I mean...like w-with the Spider-Man s-suit and...yeah. That’s what I meant, sorry.”

His adorable struggle to find the words would be humorous if the mention of his alter-ego didn’t stab into my heart. It’s obvious that he notices my sudden change in mood because the room abruptly turns quiet. “It’s fine.” I mutter, picking at the balls of lint collecting on the edge of my sleeve. From the corner of my eye I watch his fingers grip the bright yellow mug, tapping in a sloppy rhythm I’m too anxious to keep track of.

“Why are you here, Peter?”

He must have been expecting the question, his answer is immediate. “I, uh, wanted to explain.”

“I thought you made it pretty clear,” I’m facing away from him so he can’t see the pain I know hides in my expression. “It’s fine, really, if you don’t...you know, want to be with me anymore.”

It’s not fine, my heart whispers, you love him and you're giving him up.

I hate what’s happening, but if Peter wants it I’m not going to force him to do something that doesn’t make him happy.  All I want is for him to be happy.

I’m finding it hard to inhale as I wait for an answer. The only thing I can hear is the pattern of breaths that leave him and it’s driving me crazy. My knee jumps up and down, pumping the hope for a happy ending into my veins.

I flinch harshly when warmth envelops my hand. It’s Peter, skin retaining heat from the mug I’d just handed him. He intertwines our fingers against my knee and I don’t stop him. I’m one snap away from bursting into tears; my nerves are frayed and my breaths feel ragged and I don’t have the strength to push him away.

“Rowan,” He starts softly. Seconds pass and he sighs in what sounds like frustration, taking a loud sip of hot chocolate and placing it on the coffee table. Those dark eyes meet mine, wide and darting to different parts of my face, flecked with gold. “I meant what I said. I won’t ever give up Spider-Man for you, but I pushed you away instead of explaining. That’s why I’m here.”

He begins to trace around my fingers, it feels like summer is traveling along my nerves. I give him a squeeze to indicate that I want more information. “Spider-Man is everything I’ve wanted to be since I was little. When I put on that suit, I feel like I can do anything. And...that anything includes protecting you, protecting Aunt May, protecting Ned. What if I did give him up and one of you got hurt? Or worse?

The anguish of his words alone is enough to snap the string packing my emotions up tight. A drop slips down my cheek and Peter’s thumb is there flicking it away before it can get too far.

“I’m really scared of losing you, Rowan. And maybe I don’t face that threat a lot doing what I do in Queens, but what about when Mr. Stark needs me again? When not just this city but the whole world’s in danger? I can’t risk not being there to protect you.”

I feel like such a selfish bitch.

How could I parade around begging Peter to give up something that was priceless to him? I was demanding that he take away part of himself for me and broke down because he refused. I’ve been sitting around moping as a result of my own stupidity. “Peter,” I start helplessly but he cuts me off.

“Wait, before you say anything, let me finish.” He briefly lifts his hand to run it through his hair desperately, and he looks frantic. “I can’t give up Spider-Man for you because that would mean that I’m not being the best boyfriend I could be. I’d hate myself forever if I let something happen to you because I was vulnerable. I love you, Rowan. A lot. So, if it’s between you and Spider-Man, I’ll always choose Spider-Man because a you that hates me is better than no you at all.”

Peter releases his heated hold on me and reaches for his cooled hot chocolate, slurping loudly on the contents and diverting my attention away from the self-loathing enclosing on my form. His exposed toes are hitting the floor in a soft pattern, sweater cuff pulled to the fingertips of his left hand and air dried curls beginning to drape over his forehead. He’s unaware of the fact that he looks like the embodiment of a Sunday morning.

I allow myself to dive into that fantasy for a few minutes. Sharing an apartment, cooking breakfast together, getting a dog like we’ve both wanted our entire lives, weekends together, weekdays together.

Why would I ever want to give that up?

And in what universe would I ever hate him?

Peter peers at me from over his cup. “So, um...do you still want to be...together?” Hesitance coats his voice, eyes heavy with vulnerability that tugs on my heartstrings.

That thing he does where he cares about others more than himself even when things are their fault is going to get him killed one day. Once in eighth grade, he’d pushed down his bully, only to help him up right after. He ended up in my house half an hour later with a bag of frozen peas held up to his swollen face.

All the pain I’d gone through after I left his apartment is my fault. I asked him to stop being Spider-Man, and I was the one who didn’t even think to demand an explanation. I’d just left him there, alone.

God, that must have hurt him too.

I skim over the darkness beneath his lashes and the fear twisting his mouth into an attempted smile, guilt coiling around my lungs. I press the pads of my fingers against his tense jaw and let out a breath when it relaxes under my touch.

“I’m sorry.”

Peter shakes his head gently, as to not lose contact with me. “For what?”

I trace the the line of his face until I reach his chin. His eyes close momentarily; I’d forgotten how much Peter loved any reminder that someone cared for him. He was like a puppy. And I’d kicked him. “For hurting you.”

“Rowan,” he says, free hand clutching to mine and bringing it to his cheek, “You didn’t answer my question.”

I hum in response - I’ve gotten caught up in the eyes that must match the shade of the sodden ground outside, in the park we’ve played in since we’d first became best friends, where he’d asked me out.  “Yes.”

His lips stretch wide with the smile I’ve fallen in love with in the happy moments. “Then you didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

The kiss he places in my palm runs the thoughts out of my skull. “Maybe you should stop overthinking this time around,” he murmurs, placing his mug back onto the table and holding out his arms, “And just...come here.”

I don’t even hesitate to crawl over to him, draping my knees across his lap and burying myself into his chest. He smells like rain and Peter, a combination that works for him and blurs my mind. We’re a mess of unruly hair and rapid heartbeats and Peter dipping his head into my neck because he knows I’m ticklish and it’ll bring a giggle out of me. I want to save the moment forever, hopeful for the future, relishing in a new beginning.

“I missed you.” It’s a whisper against my shoulder, content.

I fumble with his minor curls, unable to resist the tugging at my lips. Sunlight casts itself across the hardwood floors as the rain stops and the clouds part. The shine reflects against the fat drops of water sitting on the leaves of the flowers planted in the windowsill and highlights the strands of Peter’s hair so that it’s quickly a pile of rusted gold in my grip.

We sit there, unmoving in a puddle of yellow, and I couldn’t ask for a better day.

“I missed you too.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Wendy!! i was angst-inspired and wanted to share - Shinichiro finally having his feelings reciprocated by one of the people he confesses to, and the other Black Dragons are happy for him, until Akashi realizes he's also having feelings for this person. Of course he respects Shin enough to not get between them, but... it's fine if they get some time on the side, right...?? y/n's got two hands, what he don't know won't hurt him, etc etc. eventually it gets to the point where they feel like things can't continue the way that they have without someone feeling betrayed. so they're preparing to tell Shinichiro but they don't get to before uhhhhhh His Naptime💀 and they both have to live with that guilt and decide how they're gonna move forward, like do they get together?? do they back off of each other?? does it even feel the same if they're not sneaking around? does it make each of them think too much of Shin whenever they see each other??? it just hurts, it hurts my heart because emotions and hurts my brain because i could not write this if i tried lmao

I WAS ABOUT TO GO TO BED UNTIL I SAW THIS AND YOU GAVE ME

H E A R T B U R N

This prompt is ABSOLUTELY INSANE.

And I love it, I'm writing it. Y'all better strap the fuck in, BECAUSE MR. TAKEOMI IS MY ANGST KING. FREAKING GENIUS MASTERMIND, YOU ARE.

Rain Bringer: Shinichiro Sano & Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation (I have been saving this song for a good one. I think this is it):

"We should stop this..."

Takeomi's lips slide up the side of your neck and back down, ignoring your statement in the dim light of the room. The lamp in the corner is red, your signal to Takeomi that you're free for him to come over, which happened every so often after Shinichiro left your apartment for the evening.

"You don't mean that," he replies finally, and you huff, feeling his hands course up to your waist.

No, you don't mean it.

Yeah, you like Shinichiro, but Takeomi makes you feel things no man has ever made you feel. Ever.

It's as if Takeomi took your essence and wrapped it around his wrist, chaining him to you forever. Shinichiro was a safe bet. Takeomi was what your entire body lusted for and desired in the middle of the night when your bed wasn't warm.

"Kiss me," Takeomi whispers and you obey, leaning back to catch his mouth as he leans over your shoulder. "Everything's fine." You kiss each other until the result is the both of you laying in bed, bodies tangled around each other as he pumps into you with sinful and terrifying lust. "God, you're so damn perfect," he breathes, holding your wrists above your head and nudging your nipple with his tongue. "Wish I could have you like this every night."

And you do, too. Sort of.

Out of all of the Black Dragons, why did you have to fall for both Shinichiro and Takeomi? If it wasn't for that night when he walked into Shinichiro's shop and gave you that look... fuck, that heat-filled and desire bringing look!

You'd gone weak-kneed and landed right on them in front of Takeomi, taking him in the backroom like a devious and scheming whore. It wasn't okay. If Shinichiro found out... you'd both be dead. You'd gotten lucky multiple times with Takeomi's dalliances, from almost getting caught in the shop to the warehouse to the fucking bathroom at the club...

You liked Shinichiro. You did.

But Takeomi was just... something else.

After his single orgasm and your fifth one, your head rests against his chest and you hear his heart beating slowly beneath his rib cage.

"We need to tell Shinichiro," you exhale. Takeomi goes stiff, but the thought had crossed his mind before. He thought about pulling Shin aside and trying to tell him in the nicest way that he was fucking his girlfriend. But... to his shame, he never got the courage. But now that you're bringing it up, he feels some sense of 'morality' or whatever it was.

"We'll tell him tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you reply, falling asleep on the man's chest after a few moments of silence. Takeomi wished he had his cigarettes so he could smoke to ease his mind, but not wanting to wake you, and not wanting to move - he forgoes them, instead letting his mind roam while you rest.

_____________________________________________________________

The news comes that morning.

Both of you had multiple missed calls and a tear-filled Mikey and Emma trying to get a hold of you, get a hold of someone.

But you both had been deep in the throes of sleep, nestled in with each other as the sun rose on the bleak-ass day. You part without words, Takeomi pressing a kiss against your forehead as he leaves out the door, forgetting the breakfast you tried to make and the coffee that had gone cold in your silence of getting ready for the day. How could you face the younger Sano children like this?

You were sure that Takeomi's cum was still nestled between your thighs like the stain of your sin, visible for every single person to see as you walked down the street to the Sano home. You're shaking as you walk through the door, shivering even though it's not cold and your body curling in on itself, even though you haven't been hurt.

Takeomi is sitting at the table, facing away from you, but you can't find the strength to call out to him. Instead, you feel like a fraud as you cry in Keizo's arms, trying to find something that feels authentic to you deep in your heart. You had feelings for Shinichiro. But you cry more out of guilt than your pain, trying to make sense of your own actions.

At the funeral, you wonder if you had just asked Shinichiro to stay the night - instead of being so eager to push him out - if he would have survived. And again, Takeomi doesn't speak to you, and you don't try to speak to him.

Neither of you can face what you've done.

Especially not with each other.

_____________________________________________________________

A week passes.

Two.

Three.

And you find yourself in your apartment, staring at the things he left you with a sense of dread. The chain, the shirts, the bracelet he stowed away for your birthday...

You swipe the things off the dresser top, enraged at yourself for being such a horrible person. You can't face yourself - all of the mirrors have been turned around. All of his clothes were still in your closet because you knew if you touched them, you'd be forced to face what you've done.

But anger drives you forward, pulling at the items and yanking them off their hangers, each shirt, each pair of pants, each hat falling to the ground in a heap of laundry that you can't find the heart to dispose of.

You could find the heart to fuck his best friend, though.

The swarm of accusatory thoughts begins to plague your mind, and you sit on the floor, tears falling from your eyes as you try to knock them loose or free them so they can't hurt you anymore.

Your thoughts are so loud that you almost don't hear the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You swallow your tears, wipe your face, and trudge to the fixture before opening it without checking to see who it is.

Your mouth dries up when you see Takeomi, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Takeomi," you breathe, but he pushes past you, ignoring the sound you make when he grips your wrist and drags you to your room. when he sees all of the clothing scattered across the floor, something in him recognizes your dilemma, but he doesn't say a word. Instead, he turns around and kisses you roughly, pushing you against the door and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip.

It's not wrong if Shinichiro's dead, you chant to yourself, trying to make sense of the feeling in your body as Takeomi takes you and claims you as his over and over again in the bed you once shared with a dead man. And you can't help it, you rationalize.

Takeomi's the only one who understands your pain, your suffering. It's unique to both of you and drives you back together, even though his death drove you two apart.

"I don't regret what we did," Takeomi pants, moving you up and down in his lap while you face him. "I don't regret a single moment of it."

And deep down, you don't either.

_____________________________________________________________

But sadly, those feelings of lust and desire peter out with time.

You realize that the relationship between you and Takeomi was built solely on the fact that you were sneaking around, that you were being little shitty kids and playing a game that didn't make sense anymore. It's like playing hide-and-seek with a ghost, but that ghost is how you felt about Takeomi before, and how you feel about him now is staring you right in the face.

The face before you is Shinichiro's, and you stare into his dark eyes and see the betrayal lurking there in your dreams, in your nightmares, in your thoughts when you pass by the former S.S. Motors.

"We should stop this."

This time, Takeomi looks up at you and into your reflection in the mirror. His eyes seem to betray how he truly feels, which is nothing short of empty.

"Yeah."

You get dressed in silence again, just like the time when you found out Shinichiro died, and he leaves without saying and word and without a kiss. You watch him walk away into the rainy night, hands in his pockets, and wonder if Shinichiro hadn't died... would you two still be doing what you did before? Would you sneak around with him and play the gamble of getting caught? Or would you settle for a man who made you feel safe?

Maybe you'd dump him for Takeomi.

You don't know.

But all you know is that every single time you remembered Takeomi Akashi, you'd have the painful memory of betraying someone you cared about... twice.

[charliedawn]

Imagine being in a hate love relationship with Peter Hale

Warning : attempt of rape

You were on Peter duty..Again. Since Peter Hale was the man that everybody feared, it had been decided that you would be the one keeping an eye on the overly fool-of-himself werewolf with the power of your mighty patience. Scott and Stiles stop in front of Derek's loft and he jogs out to meet you.

" Thanks Y/N. I owe you one !"

He says with a grateful smile and you smile back.

" Big time. But come on, you three go hunt whatever creature you have to hunt and I'll stay to take care of Mr Smarty-pants up there !"

You say enthusiastically and they all smile apologetically at you, knowing how the two of you were not exactly on friendly terms.

" Be careful, okay ? And tell him that if he touches you, I'll kick his ass !"

Stiles says confidently, which makes you laugh.

" Don't worry, Stiles. If there is any problem, I'll call you guys immediately and plus, I have a way to take care of moody children.."

You tell him with a mysterious smile and Stiles nods understandingly.

" I know..Just, stay safe."

And with that last warning, they are all out of here. As soon as they are out of your sight, your smile leaves your face and you sigh loudly before turning towards the building and whisper to yourself.

" Welp..Here we go.."

As soon as you enter, you smell something burning and see the stove on fire. You run towards it and take a glass from the cupboard to fill it with water in order to stop the fire. When you're done, you are panting because of the effort and look murderously at Peter that is sitting calmly on the couch, as if nothing had happened.

You glare at him while he doesn't even raise his eyes from his book.

" Let me guess..You couldn't smell the smoke ?"

You ask annoyed and only then does he look up at you with a small mischievous smile.

" Aren't you supposed to be the one keeping me out of harm's way ? You are here to keep me from doing anything stupid, not the other way around..I create chaos and you're here to stop me. Do your job and stop whining."

You grit your teeths in anger before sitting on the couch, as far away from Peter as possible. You can't believe the nerve of this man that was ready to burn the entire flat only to prove a point !

" I don't know why you're so eager to unnerve me. Does it entertain you ? Would it kill you to be nice and helpful from time to time ?"

You ask while taking a nearby book and starting reading yourself, not really interested in his answer that you knew would not be anything but upsetting.

" I'm the spark that lits your fire, sweetheart..Try to let go sometimes, you would actually enjoy it. Why don't you try to be less of a killjoy ?"

You raise an eyebrow at that before returning to your book and replying nonchalantly.

" Have you ever considered, even for only a moment, that I simply don't like you ?"

He fakes being offended by putting his hand above his heart and widening his eyes dramatically at you.

" Oh darling ! Me who thought that you were about to ask my hand in marriage ?! How disappointing ?!"

You snort.

" Hard pass."

He sighs in false disappointment before taking his coat and walking towards the exit.

" And where do you think you're going ?"

You ask with an eyebrow arked in curiosity.

" Out."

He answers simply before opening the door. You sigh before taking your coat and running after him.

" Didn't Derek warn you that I am allowed to use silver bullets if you disobey me ?"

He scoffs before shrugging, not bothering waiting for you.

" I'm going to get a beer, not kill a bunch of innocent virgins.."

He winks at you cheekily before stepping inside the bar that was the nearest to the apartment. You role your eyes at his comment before entering the bar after him.

You look around and are amazed to see that the place wasn't as bad as you had previously thought. It had good background music and not a lot of customers, besides a couple of drunk friends who were talking in whispers at their table. However, Peter isn't visible and you sigh again before walking towards the counter to ask the bartender if he had any idea of where your irresponsible dog had run off to. You sit down and attract the attention of the bartender by raising your hand. He walks towards you and leans in to listen to your order.

" A soda, please."

He arks an eyebrow at you, nearly amused, before turning around and getting out what you asked.

" Are you sure you don't want anything else ? Anything stronger ?"

He says while eyeing your bottle of soda warily, as if it was an insult to his establishment for you to order such a drink. You smile, tempted beyond reason, but then remember that you had a werewolf to find.

" Sorry. Can't. I'm on the job. By the way, have you seen a man ? Sarcastic. Arrogant. Energic. Tall. Very annoying. Awfully blond. Seen him anywhere ?"

He looks suspiciously at you before asking in a slightly worried and even threatening voice.

" You're a cop ?"

You can't help but laugh bitterly at the question before replying.

" You could say that. But I am only responsible of one criminal, and the only crime he committed is to not have messed up my night, yet.."

He smirks when he understands the irony in your tone and was about to answer when someone puts his hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see a very smug Peter with a huge grin.

" Oh ! Look at that ! The overly confident puppy is finally back ! What ? Got lost on the way ?"

You ask sarcastically and he only humphs in response before sitting next to you, the grin not leaving his face.

" Why ? Missed me ?"

You scoff before taking a sip of your drink.

" As much as a needle in my heel..But, if Derek was to find out that I've let you out of your cage, he would have my head.."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and makes you spill your drink a little over yourself.

" Aww..You do care ! My cold heart warms at the thought of the packs brat worrying about me !"

You groan in annoyance before biting his hand off. He hisses in pain before retrieving his hand and massaging it while glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. Just at that moment, the bartender comes back to get Peter's order and eyes Peter suspiciously before looking back at you with an inquisitive glance, asking discreetly if you needed an escape. You could have laughed if it wasn't so sad. Peter was such a nuisance that people were now wondering if he was the one bothering you, when in fact it was the opposite. However Peter, that had not missed the silent conversation, growls when the bartender gives him a warning side glance. But, not intimidated the nearest, Peter smirks a toothy grin at the bartender before showing his bitten hand.

" Careful. The brat bites. I've seen what it is capable of, first hand..literally. Don't worry, if you should be worried about anyone around here, it's everyone else besides her."

He cautioned and the bartenders eyes widen at the mark that would certainly have left a scar if he was a normal human being while you snicker in your corner. The bartender quickly runs towards his other customers at the far end of the bar, leaving you two in your sudden awkward solitude.

" Well..Isn't he a gentleman ? Thinking you need saving from me. Not even considering that I could be the abused one in this relationship ? How rude !"

You try to stifle a laugh. Unfortunately, he hears you and smirks proudly at his small victory.

" I'm not the psychopath that tried to murder a bunch of teenagers just because I wanted to become the big bad alpha.."

You taunt while giving him an amused side glance. He groans in annoyance as you make him remember his past and he gulps down his whiskey, an attempt to make him forget faster.

" Aren't you a delight ?! Playing unfair by spreading out the touchy subjects like that..No wonder Stiles rejected you. You would have chomped his lips off !"

You glare at him as he talks about Stiles before replying harshly.

" Says the man whose only date was Scott's mom, and that was to trap him ! You're so terrible that nobody could stand being with you more than 5 minutes without hating you ! I would tell you to go to hell, but it would be unfair on Satan !"

He chuckles at that last part and you take your drink in order to take a sip and calm your nerves, but grimace at the awful taste. You had asked for a soda, but it tasted more like salt with water..He cackles at your expression before whispering mockingly in your ear with false concern.

" Oh ! What ? Ain't sweet enough for you, sweetheart ?"

You only raise a very distinctive finger at him, warning him that one more word from him would result in extreme pain and look around the room to distract yourself from his presence..and from the fact that you were his entitled babysitter. Your eyes wander and finally settle on the nice bartender that winks at you when you meet his gaze. You blush slightly before smiling back at him. He wasn't bad-looking and everything would be better than bantering with the overly sarcastic and confident werewolf that couldn't seem to leave you be. You were about to stand up and walk towards the cute bartender when suddenly, a hand raises to lay on your shoulder and pin you down to your seat. You were about to complain and even yell at Peter when you hear him growl from deep withing him while he shoots a dirty glare at the poor young man. You frown in incomprehension and grit your teeths in annoyance, thinking it was one of his attention seeking gesture. You then take his hand and force him to let go of you to walk towards the exit. Here you go again, you couldn't even enjoy your night without having to take care of the sulky werewolf. You soon hear his footsteps behind you and when he is about to grab your arm, you turn around abruptly and glare at him with such seriousness that it freezes him on the spot.

" How about you and your insanity stay the heck away from me ?! I'm so tired of your bullshit, Peter ! Why can't you just leave me alone ?!"

At your harsh words, Peter's gaze hardens and he retracts his hand to only smirk at you and tilt his head a little bit to the side, as if he didn't understand the question.

" Oh darling..I would love to ! But, you see, it seems that me and my insanity are often required to solve your friend's little problems !"

Suddenly, unnerved beyond belief and having had more than enough of him, you feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and yell at him, so loud that it surprises the werewolf himself.

" Leave me alone ! Why am I the only one who always has to handle you?! Why do you always ask Derek for me to keep you, even though you don't even like me ?! If I'm such a bother, why not just get rid of me ?!"

He doesn't seem to be able to find an answer and you don't even let him reply. You start running until you reach a small and dark alley. When you're sure you are far enough for the werewolf not to hear you cry, you crouch down and start sobbing. When you've spilt all of your frustration and sadness out, you wipe your face with your sleeve and stand up to get back home. However, when you are about to leave the alley-way, you see someone else blocking the exit. You first think that it's Peter, but the more you approach the individual, the more you have to admit that it doesn't look like Peter. You try to walk past him, but he brusquely grabs your arm and throws you to the ground. You want to get your phone out of your purse, but the man stomps on your hand and you scream in pain. The man takes you by the jaw and forces you to look up at him. His disgusting breath hitting your face, smelling of alcool and his evil smirk making you want to puke even more.

" Aren't ya a sweat ass ? Tell me, what does a young lady like yourself doing here by herself in the middle of the night, hmm ?"

You want to scream for help again, but another individual behind you puts his hand against your mouth to muffle your screams and you feel the familiar shape of a knife against your throat. When you know that there is nothing else you can do, you close your eyes and try to stop the new tears from leaving your eyes..You didn't want to cry for those men, they didn't deserve your tears..

" Now..You're going to be a good girl and let us take care of you, okay ?"

The one posted behind you whispers in your ear and you clench your jaw, your last thought going to Peter. You had been awful to him, even though you knew he wasn't a bad person..You had let out your frustration on him and you were now regretting it bitterly. You should have sticked to your job and stay with him. If you had, maybe you wouldn't be in your current situation. Reality hits you hard when you feel one of the men starting to open your blouse. When you thought that that was it, that you were going to be raped in that dirty alley-way and probably killed, you hear the hurried footsteps of someone running towards your location. You want to scream again, but the knife is raised once again against your throat.

" One peep and nobody will even find your body.."

You whimper and nod in understanding. The footsteps stop and you hold your breath.

" Sweetheart ? Are you there ?"

You hear the familiar voice of Peter and feel relieved to know that he is near. However, the man whispers instructions in your ear and you can't help but nod in agreement, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to slice your throat if you were to disobey.

" You're going to tell him to go away, that you don't want him to come any closer..I know what he is and the knife is made of silver and has been dipped in wolfsbane for a while..Don't play smart or you'll lose more than your life.."

He uncovers your mouth and you respond in a shaky voice.

" G..Go away, Peter..I don't want you near me ! I hate you !"

You bit to your inner cheek, wondering if he would insist or know that something is wrong. You know that even if he was to guess that something is wrong, you couldn't afford to lose him as well..However, you hear him take a step towards you and sniff the air. He suddenly growls animalistically and his eyes light up in the dark.

" I can smell the stench of two putrid little humans that shouldn't be touching what isn't theirs.."

You start panicking, knowing that he could die if he was to step any closer and yell in a last attempt to protect him.

" Don't, Peter ! They've got wolfsbane ! Run !"

One of the men muzzles you again, but Peter doesn't step back. He gets his claws out and snarls.

" Alright boys. Let's rumble."

The two men stand up and face Peter that doesn't seem scared. He doesn't keep his eyes off them while they circle him. The man with the knife tries to attack him first, but Peter grabs his arm and tears it off from the rest of his body. The man screams in agony, but Peter slashes his throat before turning towards the other man that is shaking with terror.

" What ?! You are brave enough to attack a defenseless woman, but not enough to fight a werewolf ?!"

He roars and the man suddenly gets out a gun that he points at Peter. Before he could react, the man shoots and the bullet goes through his abdomen. Peter falls on his knees and the man runs away, leaving you and him behind. You force yourself to get up and crouch down in front him to see that the wound is not closing itself.

" Wolfsbane bullet.."

He affirms what you already suspected and you have to take deep breathes in order not to panic. You know what to do, you had seen Derek do it a thousand time already. You need to cauterize the wound. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself before trying to carry him back home. When you finally enter the building after a few grunts and moans of pain from the both of you, you lay Peter down on the couch and look around for something hot enough to burn the poison. Suddenly, your eyes fall on a blowtorch and when Peter understands what you were thinking about, he looks pitifully up at you.

" I have a very bad tolerance to pain."

He warns you, a warning that sounds more like a desperate plea for you to reconsider your plan..But you know that you don't have much time and address him a silent apology with your eyes before taking the handle of your purse and make him bite down on it.

" This is gonna hurt. Bad. But, I'm going to try to be as fast as I can, okay ?"

His nostrils flare in fear for the pain to come, but he nods in agreement and you take a big shaky breath before using the blowtorch. As soon as the fire gets in contact with his skin, Peter visibly whitens, his eyes flash blue and you can see his claws digging in the soft material of the couch. You don't know what to do to attenuate the pain, so you do the first thing that comes to mind to distract him..You kiss him. His eyes widen perceptibly at your action, but he doesn't hesitate before burying his hands in your hair and reciprocating the kiss, even though the handle of your purse forms some kind of barrier between you and him. When you take a step back, he seems more relax and you glance down at his wound before switching off the blowtorch. You are relieved when you see the wound closing and smile widely at him. But, before you could truly process what was happening, Peter had gotten rid of your purse and had bounced on top of you to pin you to the floor and kiss you passionately again.

" Stiles doesn't deserve you..Nobody does..Nobody needs you like I do..Nobody can handle me the way you do..I don't want them to take you away from me..Stay with me..If you leave, I'll lose my fucking mind.."

He mutters between each breath he takes while kissing you and you blush vividly at his words. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and you can't help but smile up at him before kissing him back yourself and petting the top of his head appreciatively.

" You damn nut job, if you wanted me that bad, why didn't you tell me ? Instead of making me lose my mind.."

He grins before nuzzling your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.

" Because I like when you get mad.."

You chuckle before returning his embrace.

" Bad pup.."

" Stiles lover"

You ark an eyebrow at the odd insult before replying teasing.

" Does that mean I won't be able to go back to his place and sleep on his couch ? Do I have to remind you that I live with him ?"

He tightens his hold on you and grumbles tiredly against your ribcage.

" Over my dead body. The only thing you will be allowed to sleep on from now on is me, got it ?"

You seem dumbfounded for a second and Peter picks on your uneasiness before laughing and looking up at you with a sly smile.

" Not what I meant, you pervert."

You blush a deep red and hit him on the back of the head playfully.

" Hey ! You're the one always insinuating things !"

He genuinely smiles at you before lowering his chin on your belly and tilting his head to look at you with fake innocence.

" I'm not the one who kissed me.."

You sigh, it was becoming a competition, like many things with him. You sit back up and make him fall at the same time.

" Yeah ?! Well, you were badly injured..and you reciprocated !"

You don't know why you wanted to defend yourself, you just know that you can't allow yourself to succomb for the man that had nearly killed all of your friends. Plus, you had just been attacked and were too weak to make any decisions. He seems to notice your worry and takes a step back immediately to get up and extend his hand towards you.

" I'm sorry. You helped me and I was being an idiot. You need to get some rest. Come on."

You look at his hand for a few seconds before slipping your hand in his. He yanks you upwards and proceeds to carry you back to your room where he lays you down on your bed. He leaves the room promptly afterwards, mumbling a small goodnight before walking out. When you're sure he is truly gone, you curl up into a ball and try to muffle your sobs. You couldn't sleep, every time you would close your eyes, their hands were there, touching you and making you feel as if you were weak..So weak..You whimper and cry as silently as you can until someone opens the door suddenly and blinding light surrounds the room. You turn around to see Peter standing there, his eyes glowing with such an intense color that it shocks you, you then notice the slight rise of his shoulders at each of his heavy breathing and finally, his lips curled and teeths grinding in rage.

" I should have killed them both..I should have never left you.."

You open your eyes wide at the realization, he had probably heard you and was reacting to your emotions. He approaches slowly and tenderly strokes your cheek, placing his forehead against yours.

" I'm so sorry, darling.."

You feel as if he's been crying too and step back. He seems to be hurt by your sudden distance, but you quickly indicate the spot next to you.

" Come on, I need a bed warmer."

His eyes light up like a happy puppy and he crawls next to you in order to cuddle you, making sure that you are comfortable every step of the way. You sigh in contempt before feeling sleep slowly taking over your tired body. Just before you fall asleep however, you mumble sleepily at Peter.

" You were right..I won't be able to sleep when you're not there anymore..You're too good of a bed warmer.."

You feel him chuckle behind you and smile as you realize that being best bud with Peter wouldn't be so bad..and maybe with time, a bit more.

The next day :

Derek finds the both of you on the sofa: you reading a book out loud, and Peter with his arms wrapped around you, listening attentively.

" So, I guess the babysitting went better than our stake out last night ?"

He asks, amused by your sudden friendliness towards each other. You look up at him with a small smile while Peter chuckles against your ear, the sound alone making you feel things you shouldn't be.

" Best of friends, aren't we, sweetheart ?"

Instead of answering his question, you try to change the subject.

" What happened to the stake out then ? I thought you were supposed to catch a couple of bounty hunters ?"

Derek shakes his head before shrugging his shoulders.

" I know, but when we got there, there was only one of them, and he was screaming that his friend had been murdered by another werewolf in town..I wonder if there are any others like us that we've not yet been in contact with ?"

At his explanation, you feel a lump forming in your throat, but when you were about to tell him what happened last night, Peter beats you to it.

" Funny, your description of the scene exactly matches what happened to me last night.."

Derek frowns before looking up at Peter with his jaw clenched.

" I thought I was pretty clear when I said stay put ?"

He glares at Peter, but then his eyes shift to you.

" And you, where were y..?"

But before he could finish his sentence, Peter cuts him again.

" Asleep. I waited for her to fall asleep before going out. Poor humans, can't manage a night without craving sleep.."

You look up at him with your mouth wide open, ready to deny everything he just said when you see him wink at you..He wasn't trying to make you look bad at your job, he was trying to save you the embarrassment. You close your mouth as fast as you had opened it and turn around towards Derek that was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your confirmation. You nod and he sighs.

" Maybe it was a bad idea to leave you alone with him, you're still young and he's had plenty of experience when it comes to get what he wants..I'll ask Scott or Stiles next time."

You feel the lump in your throat slowly making its way to your stomach and your expression twists into one of pain and regret.

" No !"

To the surprise of everyone in the room, including yourself, you're the one who just shouted your disagreement. Derek frowns again before crossing his arms and waiting impatiently for an explanation while Peter only tightens his grip around you, a silent warning as to what you are about to say. You take a big breath before glancing up at Derek and saying in a calm and unfaltering voice.

" This is my job. I'm part of the pack. It's bad enough that I'm completely useless when it comes to working on the field, I can't let my only participation in all this go to someone else. I made a mistake, it won't happen again."

Derek seems to believe you, even though he shakes his head in hesitation.

" I don't know, Y/N..I was allowing this to continue since it seemed to work..But, Peter succeeded in complicating things, again."

He emphasizes on the last word while staring at Peter accusatively. Peter flashes an innocent grin at him before agreeing with you.

" I promise to behave from now on. Please, dad ? Can I please keep my plaything ? It gets lonely around here when you're all running around, chasing your own tails over and over.."

You elbow him as a warning, but Derek is already shooting daggers in his direction, on the verge of growling in annoyance. Fortunately, Derek succeeds in keeping his cool and only sighs in defeat before walking away.

" Fine. But, I warn you, one more mistake and I'll personally kick you out.."

" Can't do that, chief. It's my house !"

Peter answers with a big shit-eating grin, but Derek frowns at him before looking straight at you.

" I was talking to you, Y/N..I can't allow you to become a weakness, we've got already too many and Peter is the master of manipulation, dont fall for his tricks. It's a warning, let it be not a premonition."

And with those last words, he is gone. You both stay still for a moment until you decide to stand up and make yourself a cup of coffee. The words of Derek are swirling around in your mind and you glance at Peter when you think he's not looking..Were you really just another pawn in his mastermind plan to bring down the pack ? He seems to feel your stare and points it out.

" If I didn't know you the way I do, I'd say that you actually believe this idiot.."

" Why did you protect me ?"

You ask him abruptly, still not sure about what to make of last night's rescue. He seems to thinks about it for a while before answering you with such honesty that it surprises you.

" Because there was no reason for me to talk about it..Unlike what you all think of me, I'm not such a monster. I feel no satisfaction in a young girl's life being ruined by such macabre events. I care about you more than any of the other dumb teenagers of your group, even my own cousin. You're nice, kind, smart and you don't judge. You never told me that what I did was despicable or that I didn't deserve to live. You did what you had to do and tried the best you could to help. I agree that we have had our disagreements, but it was always playful and never really serious. Why would I ever want anything bad like this to happen to you when you're the only person who ever believed that I could become an ally ? Tell me, how many people do you think ever read to me or felt safe in my arms ? Not even my own family ever believed I could change..So, yes. I protected you, because you would have done the same thing for me. Your strength remains in your humanity, Y/N. Stiles may be the voice of reason, but you're the voice of mercy.."

You are awestruck by the words that seem to be tumbling out of his lips and surround you like the warmest of blankets. You would be happy to listen to him all day. You genuinely smile at him and, before you could stop yourself, you kiss him. He relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around you to close the gap between the both of you. He finally breaks the kiss and laughs softly before adding.

" You also have very nice lips.."

You playfully punch his torso before laying down on top of him, finding the rhythm of his heartbeat oddly soothing.

" You're a jerk..But you're still a good person.."

You whisper while closing your eyes and you can hear him snicker above you.

" Congratulations, you just qualified me with two opposites. Jerk and good normally don't go together."

You don't answer, already snoring softly on his torso. He smiles sweetly at the sight before kissing the top of your head.

" Sweet dreams, darling.."

[poppinisperfection]

Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2

Part 1

Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.

Xavier returns and a plan is formed.

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.

There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,

"Please stand by."

She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.

Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.

"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.

"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.

"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.

"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.

Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...

The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.

"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.

"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.

"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.

"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.

"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.

Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.

"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.

"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.

"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.

"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,

"Come with me."

-------

The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?

The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.

"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.

"Charles that's too mu-"

"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.

"I think mom and dad would've loved it."

Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.

"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.

"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.

"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."

"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.

"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."

The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.

Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.

"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.

"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.

"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.

"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."

"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.

"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.

"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.

"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.

"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.

"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.

"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.

"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.

"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.

"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.

"Hello, Monica."

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 21

Request: Yes or No

TW: Tonys death

Kind of short?

~

Part of you didn't believe it. Part of you didn't want to believe it. You expected Natasha to appear, laughing about pranking everyone. You weren't mentally well enough to deal with another loss. You were just so tired. You stared at the water, tuning out the guys behind you. You felt that familiar numbness wash over you, turning your head when Bruce tossed a bench.

"She's gone.. We have to make it worth it. We have to." Bruce breathed out. You stood up, sniffling softly and nodding.

"Nat would kick our asses for sitting around and mourning her for too long. She desperately wanted for this to work so.. We'll do this for her." You looked over them all. The men nodded, heading back to the facility to work on the stones. You sat down as Bruce, Tony, and Rocket began working on the glove and making their own gauntlet.

"It should've been me." Clint said quietly as he sat down.

"Nat would've hated herself for leaving the kids without you, Clint." You looked at him, gaze softening.

"Right now, you may have no one but.. You might have a family to go home to soon."

"I have you." Clint said, turning to look at you. His gaze dropped to the ground briefly.

"I'm sorry. I should've been there for you. I was supposed to be your father and I failed you. I let my anger and grief cloud my judgment.. I left you to deal with your own emotions when I should've been there to comfort you and help you through it. I know an apology won't make up all the years that passed but.. I plan on making things better. I won't force you to forgive me and I won't hide things from Laura if this works." Clint told you. You nodded, turning your head when the smart trio walked out with the gauntlet.

"So, who's gonna snap their fingers?" Rocket asked.

"I'll do it!" Thor said, walking towards it. Everyone quickly stopped him.

"We haven't discussed it yet." Steve said, placing a hand on his chest to keep him in his spot. Thor blinked a few times, scoffing softly.

"Well, I'm sorry, are we all sitting down waiting for the right opportunity?" He questioned, glancing around.

"We should at least talk about it." Scott said with a light shrug.

"Sitting here and staring at the thing won't bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, so this responsibility falls on my back-" You could tell Thor wanted to do it because he felt at fault. You frowned, glancing at Clint. Thor sniffled, looking at Tony.

"Let me do it." He whispered. "Let me do something good."

"Look, it's not just the fact that the glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you, you're in no condition." Tony said quietly. Thor gripped his shoulders.

"What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?"

"Cheese wiz?"

"Enough alcohol to kill a man?" You tried, tilting your head. Thor pointed at you and Rhodes, giving a small nod.

"I have lighting."

"Lighting won't help you, pal." Bruce said gently. "It's gotta be me."

"You saw what those stones did to Thanos.. It almost killed him. None of you could survive." Bruce said, walking towards the glove.

"How do we know you will?"

"We don't." Bruce answered Steve softly. Bruce gently picked up the glove, being careful not to drop it or break it.

"Let's do this."

"Okay, remember, everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, we're just bringing them back to now. Don't change anything from the last five years." Tony instructed. Bruce nodded, looking down at the glove. Tony tapped the reactor, putting his suit on. He pushed you behind him, making a shield in case the blast was bad. Metal covered the doors and glass ceiling, incasing the room. Bruce slowly put his hand in the glove, crying out as energy went through his arm. You watched in concern, seeing his arm begin to burn. Bruce continued to scream, snapping his fingers and passing out, the glove sliding away. You quickly crouched down behind him, having the root bracelets extend and touch his burnt arm. Bruce panted softly, the burns slowly easing.

"This might take a while." You said softly. Bruce swallowed, nodding. You glanced over at Scott when he exited the room. Clint went to check his phone.

"Honey?" You turned your head towards Clint, eyes wide. You gave a small smile, looking back at Bruces arm. You noticed a shadow, looking up.

"Oh fuck." You whispered. You screamed as the floor fell out from under you, falling down. You grunted when something hit the back of your head, feeling water begin to soak you as pain shot through your leg once you landed. You groaned, seeing spots in your vision as you pushed your upper half up. You turned your head.

"Fuck me." You stared at the pole stuck through your leg. You licked your lips, hearing Rocket shouting. You turned towards him, raising your hand and lifting the structure he was stuck under. He rolled out from under it, panting. Rhodes crawled towards you, looking at the pole.

"Will you be able to heal yourself?" He asked. You looked down at the half rotten roots, shaking your head.

"No." You breathed out. "Not until we're back up there."

"Shit." Rhodes muttered. You noticed more water rushing in, most likely from the river. You raised your hand, making a water wall to stop more from spilling in.

"Don't waste your energy."

"I'd rather not drown." You looked at Rhodes, panting softly.

"I can't hold it forever, you guys!" You called, glancing at Rocket and Bruce. Rhodes ripped off some of his shirt, motioning to your leg. You swallowed, eyes welling up as you slowly lifted your leg, screaming out in pain.

"I got you, (Y/N). Don't worry, I got you." Rhodes whispered hurriedly, wrapping the cloth around your leg. You lost focus, arms trembling.

"The water, (Y/N)!" Rocket called as the water rushed into the room, quickly filling it up. Rhodes wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close. You whimpered softly, head resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's alright." Rhodes kept his and your head above the water. You swallowed, gaining some focus back and moving your arm, the water slowly returning back from where it came from.

"I'm gonna take.. A big fucking nap after this." You whispered, feeling Rhodes patting your back.

"Same here." Rhodes mumbled. You blinked when a large hand wrapped around you, holding onto Rhodes as everything trembled. Scott opened his hand, letting Bruce hop off. Rhodes got his suit on, arm still around you as he flew down. You made a root rise, wrapping around your leg and healing it. You looked up, seeing portals and millions of people.

"Damn." You whispered, making fire balls. The armies rushed at each other. You swallowed, using wind to fly you up into the air. You extended your hands forward, fire shooting out of them and burning the aliens below. You landed on the ground, raising a hand and making ice spike come out of the ground, implaing the aliens in sight.

"Still as awesome as the first time." You froze, staring ahead before slowly turning around. You stared at Bucky. He looked the same. Sam landed besides him, giving a small smile.

"How you been, (Y/N)?" He asked. You gave a small tired smile.

"I wanna die." You answered, raising your hand and blasting some aliens back with fire. The two blinked at your response, brows furrowing in concern.

"We can.. We can catch up later." You told them, noticing T'Challa running with the gauntlet. You flew up, seeing one of the aliens attempting to get the gauntlet.

"So this is the squidward look alike." You threw a fireball at him, knocking him down as Peter grabbed the gauntlet. You landed near the alien, making roots grab onto his arm.

"Nice to meet you." You breathed out, hands extending. You watched his face contourt as he began gasping for air but you took it all out of him.

"And goodbye." You relaxed when he stopped squirming, making the ground swallow him just in case. You looked up, seeing one of the ships shooting down at the ground, quickly flying up and away from it. You noticed a man keeping the battlefield from being flooded, going over to him.

"Mind if I take some?" You asked, taking controlling of the small water twister he had going on. The man gave you an odd look.

"You could always help."

"I am." You made the water turn into a large ice spike, shooting it forward at one of the ships. It got the wing of it but the beams didn't ease. It stopped firing at the ground and instead fired up.

"Carol.." You breathed out, gently landing on the ground. You looked at the man, glancing at the water and making the ground rise in order to stop it from flooding. Carol took care of the ship, bringing it down.

"Couldn't have done that sooner?" The man asked. You shook your head.

"No, I was busy." You replied, looking down at your leg. It might've healed on the outside but it still hurt on the inside. You flew up, looking around for Bucky and Sam. You spotted them, going over to them and helping them up.

"What the fuck was that alien shit about?" Sam asked, panting. You chuckled tiredly, turning your head. You blinked, noticing Tony with the stones. Bruce had gotten badly injured from just wearing it.

"Tony.." You breathed out, walking towards him but he snapped his fingers, causing a bright light. The aliens around turned to dust, just like your friends. You ignored it, quickly flying over to Tony as he stumbled. Rhodes got there first, patting his shoulder. You landed near him, quickly walking towards him.

"Tony, just stay still, I-I'll fix you up in no time." You said, blinking away tears. You couldn't lose someone else. Natasha's death was still fresh. Tony turned his head towards you, mouthing a word.

"Promise."

"Tony.." You stared at him, hands trembling. Tony had made you promise the day everyone found out time travel could work to take care of Morgan and Pepper. You thought it had been silly.

"Tony, I can heal you. Just let me-" Rhodes placed a hand on your shoulder as Peter crouched down beside Tony. You clenched your jaw, tears spilling down your cheeks. Peter cried as he spoke to Tony. You stood up, looking at Pepper as you sniffled. Pepper gave Tony a sad smile, holding back tears until he went limp. Pepper leaned forward, kissing his cheek before sobbing. You took some steps back, sniffling.

"He needed this." Rhodes said softly, patting your back.

"Yeah.."

~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped off the jet, seeing Lila step out of the house. You smiled softly, watching Cooper step out as well. The two quickly ran towards you and Clint. You opened your arms, Coopers body colliding with yours. You couldn't help the sobs that left you as you held your younger brother. Clint couldn't either, sniffling as he held Lila. The two siblings switched, Lila giving you a tight hug.

"You've gotten taller." Lila said with a smile. You chuckled softly, shrugging.

"It's what five years can do to someone." You replied, smiling softly. You gave her another hug, walking back towards the house. You smiled softly, seeing Laura and Nathaniel.

"Mom.." You whimpered, arms wrapping around her tightly. She hugged you back, smiling softly.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here." Laura whispered, rubbing your back. You kept your arms around her, relief flowing through you. You pulled back, smiling down at Nathaniel and picking him up.

"Hey, buddy." You cooed, holding him as you walked back to the house. You set him down, taking out your phone and seeing Wanda's contact.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Would you mind coming with me somewhere?"

[peterrparrkerr]

Gun kink - read on ao3

I wrote this for fifi. They helped me come up with this idea.

*-*

"Oh, hello Mr. Stark, I got your coffee!"

Tony glances up from his folder with lab results to see the gangly young man walking over excitedly.

He's wearing his usual outfit -a pair of brown tweed trousers and a cream button down long sleeve. His outfit is never complete without a sweater vest, and today's is tan with brown edges and stripes across his torso in blues, purples and oranges.

The poor thing has a stack of folders in his arms, balancing a four coffees on the top -which wobbles precariously as Peter makes his way through the busy lab.

"You know you can make multiple trips?" Tony asked, smirking pulling at his lips as he sets his own folder down to grab the coffees.

Peter blushes, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, but then the coffee would get cold, and I might forget which folders to get," he says.

Tony reaches forward without thought, pressing his forefinger into the frame of Peter's glasses, right over his nose, and pushing it up.

Peter's cheeks turn dusky pink and he mutters an embarrassed "thank you."

Tony takes a step back, clearing his throat before setting the coffees on the table before offering his hand for the folders.

"What do you have for me?"

Peter blinks, processing Tony's question before he jolts into movement. "Oh, yeah, this one here is for the Extremis test trials."

A folder is handed to Tony. The older barely has any time to flip through it before Peter's pulling out another folder -almost losing them all in the process- and slapping it over the one Tony has.

"This one is for the new arc reactor power station, tech said they found a bug in the coding and wants you to look into it before bringing it to the board."

A third folder is handed over. Tony can't help but chuckle lowly at how awkward and frantic Peter is as he flips through his stack, looking for which folder he needs.

"These need to be signed or Mrs. Pepper said she was going to shove her heel up your -ahem- uh, your butt."

His cheeks burn redder and Tony's smile widens. Damn the kjd sure was cute.

"And these ones are all internships, job applications and test subject forms," Peter concluded, adding the rest of the folders into Tony's arms.

"Thank you, Peter," Tony hummed, looking down at the folders. "I'll take a look at these when I get a moment-"

"Oh, yeah, I can take them to your office," Peter rushed.

"Thats alright- oh, okay, uh, thank you," Tony grunts as Peter grabs the stack of folders again, holding them to his sweater vest and using his shoulder to push his glasses up his nose again.

"You're welcome, Mr. Stark," Peter grinned before making his way to Tony's office.

Tony returns to his lab results, frowning down at the graphs.

"We're going to have to fix these numbers," Tony muttered to Bruce in passing, pointing to the red jagged line ascending up the front page.

"If we want to start human trials with this new vaccine we're going to need to figure out what's happening with-"

"Oh, yeah, I'll take a look at it and get back to you," Bruce hummed, tapping his finger on the page. "I didn't realize those numbers were so high."

"Me neither," Tony scowled, snapping the folder closed and dropping it on the desk.

He goes back to work with the other employees, checking over progress and fiddling with his own projects.

He's lost in his own world when the lab door opens, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind him.

"Tony Stark!"

Tony scowls and lifts his head, only to blink at the man standing in the door.

He's wearing a bomb jacket, rigged with what looks like enough explosives to take down this half of the building.

The lab employees are all out of their chairs, some on the floor, others pressed into the wall. Tony can't move. His throat closes -he can't breathe.

"You murdered my wife," the man growls. The hand holding the detonator wavers, his grip white knuckled.

"I-" he can't get his words out. He knows he's got to. He knows he needs to de-escalate the situation so security has time to grab him, but Tony can't.

He can't do anything but stand there with wide eyes.

"Drop the detonator."

Both Tony and the man turn to the voice, and Tony's eyes widen when he sees Peter.

His ever present grin is replaced with a scowl, eyebrows furrowed and there's a glint to his eyes that make Tony shiver.

"If you shoot me I'll blow this whole place up," the man snapped, crazed eyes turned towards Peter.

Peter -the goofy intern who tripped over his untied shoelaces and stuttered and blushed. Who was standing there, calm, cool and collected.

Tony hears one of his employees let out a whimper.

"You don't want to do this," Peter said, all playful lilt gone from his voice. "Its not worth it."

The man's thumb moves towards the red button and Tony feels his breath catch.

"My wife died because that man-" the man waves the detonator at Tony, making his heart drop with how careless he's being with it. "Refused to treat her."

Tony takes a small step back, heart in his throat.

"Put the detonator down," Peter ordered again.

"No," the man sneered.

It happened in slow motion. Tony watched as the man's thumb lifts, hovering over the red button.

He hears the shot ring out, hears his employees scream in fear. Tony watches as the man's head snaps back -he didnt even see the bullet.

Blood dots his forehead, and then his knees are buckling and he drops like a rock.

Peter's the first to move, gun still aimed at the bomber. The detonator is taken from his hand as carefully as Peter can.

Seconds later, security shows up. Employees rush out of the room using the service door to the staircase.

Tony's stuck in place, still trying to process it all. Peter's talking with the security team while they wait for someone to take care of the body.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, but he jolts when a hand presses to his arm. He turns his head to see Peter looking up at him with concern.

"You okay, Mr. Stark?" He asked, not removing his hand. Tony blinks and gives a nod, mouth dry. "Lets go to your office," Peter suggests.

Tony nods again, managing to unstick his feet from the floor and following Peter to his office across the floor.

"Who gave you a gun?" Tony manages once they're safely in the office.

Peter glances at his waist -where Tony can see the gun peaking out under his sweater vest- and then up to Tony.

"Oh, uh, no one, its mine."

"You just- carry a gun?" Tony asked, dropping into his office chair with a huff.

"Its my job," Peter shrugged. He leans against the desk, thighs brushing against Tony's knee. "I was hired to be your personal detail."

Tony blinks. "What?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "Mrs. Pepper was worried someone might be after Extremis so she hired me to keep an eye on you when you weren't out and about with Happy."

"You're a bodyguard," Tony deadpanned.

Peter grimaced a little, ducking his head. "Yeah," he winces, running fingers through his hair.  "I'm sorry I lied to you. Its just that Mrs. Pepper said it would be better if you didn't know, and she's kind of scary."

Tony huffs a laugh at that. Peter's been a little afraid of Pepper since he got hired on.

"I just-" he starts, taking a deep breath. "I can't see you as part of a detail."

Peter gives a rueful half smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is it because I wear glasses?"

Tony can't help the bark of laughter that shakes his shoulders. He shakes his head before waving his hand at Peter.

"No- its all of you," he said. "You're dorky and you trip on air and fumble everything. I don't exactly picture you as a gun weilding bodyguard. No offense."

Peter shrugs, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "What do you picture me as?" He asked, leaning further back against the desk.

"A dork, honestly," he huffs. Peter laughs this time, sharp and light all at once. "Is this all a cover? The clothes and the awkwardness?"

Peter's cheeks turn red and he ducks his chin in embarrassment.

"Would I be cooler if it were?"

Tony blinks, then huffs a laugh and grabs Peter by the front of his sweater vest.

"You've got a gun in your pants, I don't think you could be more cooler," he confessed, pulling Peter off the desk.

The boy goes easily, allowing Tony to tug him onto his lap, cheeks turning redder and redder.

"I could wear a leather jacket," Peter offered, voice breathy as he settles on Tony's thighs.

"No, I like the sweater vests," Tony hummed, brushing his nose against Peter's cheek. His hands grip Peter's sides, one brushing against the gun at his hip.

"Are you gonna kiss me?" Peter asked, voice a low murmur.

Tony shivers, squeezing Peter's hips as his lips ghost over the younger's.

"Are you going to use that gun on me if I do?" Tony questioned, cock hardening against his slacks. Peter whimpers, hands sliding under Tony's lab coat to grip his shoulders.

"I might," Peter breathed. Tony surged forward at that, kissing Peter filthy and feeling the gun digging into his side as Peter melted against him.

[mercurysstars]

The Shadow Thief (part 3)

Summary: What happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Violence.

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to post again! I’ve wrote like 3 different versions of this chapter because I didn’t know what direction to go in just yet.

_

"Woah, dude. Did you see this?" Y/n held out Peter's phone shoving it in his face.

Y/n had gone over to Peters house early that morning to get the last finishing touches on their project done. So they both reluctantly decided to walk together to school.

Peter snatched his phone out of Y/n's hands as they crossed the street. "How did you even get my phone? It was in my hands." She shrugged and pointed back at the article.

Peter scrolled down the page. Incoming reports say Avengers went on a mission and since gone MIA. How didn't he know about this? And why didn't the Avengers at least tell him they were going to be gone. Peter was confused, to say the least. Were they in trouble? No, they couldn't be they are the earth's mightiest heroes. Right?

"They probably just had to extend their mission and forgot to report back in." Or at least he hoped. He didn't want to think of the latter. He decided after school he would go to the compound and make sure everything was alright.

"If you say so." They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the school.  Peter opened the door and they both walked into English. Y/n took her seat next to Mj and Peter next to Ned.

The thought of the Avengers missing did worry Y/n a bit. She wasn't a big fan of superheroes but she also was not, not a fan. It was complicated. Sure she liked the security of having someone to save the day. But she hated that they pretended to be better than everyone else. They judge criminals as they themselves have never done anything wrong. They tend to blame everything on everyone else and never take responsibility.

Y/n felt a nudge to her arm. She turned her head to face Mj. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"No, no it's alright I'm just thinking," Y/n said. She pulled out her laptop and opened her and Peter's presentation to have it ready just in case they had to go first.

Their opening slide was a picture of Anne Frank surrounded by a pretty border and Anne Frank’s name in cursive in the middle. Peter insisted their project had to look nice and not like some shitty last-minute one like she had originally done. Y/n had teased Peter relentlessly about it saying maybe he should be a graphic designer instead of Spider-Man. And he of course huffed and pretended to ignore her.

"Well, you just looked worried. Anyways tell me if you need any help." Y/n gave Mj a grateful smile. Y/n knew Mj could have this cold, hard exterior but she knew she secretly cared.

The bell rang signaling the first period started. The teacher stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room clasping her hands together. "Good morning class. Today is the first official day for our presentations. We'll be picking who goes first by random. Any questions?"

One girl toward the front of the classroom stuck up her hand "Yes, Betty."

"Did you see the news? About the avengers?" The class erupted within hushed conversation everyone stating their theories of what happened and their worries.

"Alright, class settle down. I did see but we will continue like normal." She said. It kind of seemed like to Y/n she didn't care at all but she didn't really think anything of it.

The phone rang and the teacher quickly excused herself. Y/n picked at her fingers mindlessly. The teacher muttered a few words into the phone and hung up "Y/n, Peter." Her eyes snapped up at the sound of her name "They want you down in the office. And bring your things."

Y/n furrowed her brows. Her eyes met Peters "What did you do?" He mouthed just as confused as her.

What did she do? What the hell did he do. She hasn't done anything wrong. Well, at least nothing she gotten caught for.  "Dude if anyone did anything it was you! I've only been here for like 3 weeks." She whispered-yelled back.

He put his hands up defensively. Y/n shoved all of her things in her bag and zipped it up. Mj raised an eyebrow at her and Y/n just shrugged with a clueless look on her face.

Y/n walked over to the door opening it with her free hand while her chrome book was in the other.  Peter followed not too far behind. They step out and began to walk down the hallway shoulder to shoulder not a word muttered between them.

The hall was empty. No teacher, no janitor, no late students, not even the common lost freshman. It was strange to Y/n. She turned to Peter "This is weird. It's almost like it's too."

"Quiet." He finished for her. Peter felt off. His spidey sense wasn't alarming him with anything but it was almost like a gut feeling you'd get when some strange guy came up to you at a party being a little too friendly.

"Yeah." Exactly. They continued down the hall both on high alert. When they passed a window Y/n could see two men dressed in suits around the corner through the reflection.

"I think they're following us." She whispered to Peter. Y/n has picked up a thing or two of trying not to be noticed but the men behind them didn't seem like they cared much for subtlety. They had their eyes set on Y/n and Peter taking wide quick steps.

This time his spidey sense went off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Peter reached for his web-shooters "We need to get out of here."

"You think?" Y/n back said in an aggravated tone. The next time they passed by a window she could see them screw something together slowly by their side.

Y/n glanced down to get a better look, it was a gun. All she could hear was the beating of her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Thinking quickly Y/n shoved Peter into a locker. A bullet whizzed past where his head once was and made a tiny thump when it hit the wall.

His eyes went wide momentarily stunned before he sprung into action. He shot out a web, grabbed the gun out of the man's hand, and flung it across the hall, making sure he couldn't get to it.

The men paused for a minute before muttering something to each other end breaking into a spring toward them. Well mostly at Peter luckily for her but still in her direction. Peter began to fight the one whose gun he had stolen hand to hand. The man got in a punch to Peter's face. Peter tripped him and tied him up with his webs.

The second man was coming toward her. Before she could second guess herself Y/n took her chrome book and slapped the man across the face with it. The man was momentarily shocked and Y/n opened an unlocked locker hitting him in the face. She watched him slide down the lockers unconscious.

More men turned the corner and came down the hallway. Y/n kicked a waist-length garbage can with wheels toward them as a small distraction. Peter grabbed Y/n pulling her into an empty classroom.

Y/n locked the door before she grabbed Peter and dragged him further into the classroom into a supply closet. They both crouched behind a mop bucket leaving the door cracked for a tiny bit of light.

"Would you like to tell me why there's someone outside this classroom trying to blow my brain out!" She huffed.

"Don't ask me. For all, we know they could be after you!" They both flinched as they heard the door handle shake.

"They were attacking you. Shooting at you. And you'd have a bullet in the back of your head if I didn't push you out of the way if I might add." She poked him in the chest.

The men began to start kicking at the door trying to break it down "Maybe if we figure out who they are we can get out of this."

"You know what I have an idea." Y/n reached back and grabbed the gun out of the waistband of her pants. Y/n started not to care much for introductions when they tried to assassinate her. Her motto was to shoot first ask questions later because she was not going down without a fight.

"What the hell Y/n! Where did you even get a gun?" Peter tried to put some distance between them but failed and ended up bumping into a shelf.

"Calm down bug boy I'm not going to shoot you." She rolled her eyes "I grabbed it off the guy while I smashed my laptop over his head."

"You are not shooting anyone!" He exclaimed. He was going to die with a psychopath. A literal psychopath. What would his uncle Ben say if he could see him right now?

"Fine whatever. How many webs do you have left?"

"Only one." He muttered.

"Only one! How the hell do you only have only one web left?" Oh lord. She was going to die in a janitor's closet with an idiot.

"Oh well, I'm sorry I didn't know I would have someone trying to paint the walls with my organs. I must have forgotten to mark it on my calendar!"

"Oh god, Okay." Y/n rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

She took the clip out of her gun and counted the bullets she had. Two. Okay, she could work with that, Somehow. She just had to live long enough to beat Peter up for almost getting them killed.

She turned back to Peter "Alright here's the plan so we are going to jump out of the window and see just how far that web can exactly get us." She could hear the pounds on the door getting more frequent and if she was being honest she was surprised it held this long.

"Are you crazy! You going to get us both killed." He didn't need the answer because he already knew she was. He swore he could see the shadows swirl around her for a moment but as quickly as it was there it was gone.

"Do you have any better ideas because I'm all ears, Parker?" He didn't say anything and just ran a hand through his hair letting out a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I thought." Y/n knew there was a good chance that they get hit by incoming traffic like a bug on a windshield but it was either that or the SWAT team outside.

"Let's get this over with." Said Y/n. They both stepped outside of the closet. The men outside the room gave the door one last kick and it broke off of the hinges. "Go." That was all Peter said.

Y/n shot the window with the two bullets she had. Peter ran over to Y/n and grabbed onto her tightly. They jumped through the window shattering it. Peter shoots out his last web hooking onto a nearby tree. At the peak of the swing, Peter let go of the web. They flew over the traffic narrowly avoiding the cars.

When they finally reached the ground they hit it hard. Peter took most of the impact but Y/n still hit her head. They continued to hold tightly onto each other as they rolled through the grass from the momentum of the swing.

They came to a slow stop and Y/n landed on top of Peter. She slumped off to the side of him and sat up. Peter did the same but with a groan feeling all of the bones in his body.

He noticed blood began to trickle out of Y/n's nose. "You got something." He pointed to her nose.

She wiped under her nostrils with her fingers and then again with the bottom of her shirt without a second thought "Oh, Thanks."

Peter rested his head on his knees. What was he going to do? As much as he didn't like Y/n he felt bad for dragging her into this. "We need to get going they are going to come looking for us soon."

"Where are we going to go?" The light was starting to become too much so Y/n put her hand over her eyes to shield her from the sun. She was starting to get a headache and just wanted to lay down. Peter stood up and dusted off his shirt and pants.

"Avengers compound." He held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulls her up onto her feet. They began to walk toward the street.

"I just don't know how we are going to get there." He added. They made it onto the sidewalk. Y/n was stumbling around so Peter kept his pace slow so she could keep up with him.

Y/n stopped walking "What do you think of this car?" She nodded to a 1997 Honda Accord.

"It's cool I guess." He said confused the car was a little old but he didn't say anything.

"Alright good. Now hand me your web-shooters." She held out her hand toward him.

"Okay?" He didn't really know what she was trying to get at. Peter just assumed she hit her head too hard but he complied anyway.

Y/n crouched down facing the car. She broke his web-shooters over her knee taking out two long curved metal pieces. She handed him back the rest of his broken web-shooters. Peter stared at her wide-eyed as she stuck the two metal pieces into the lock of the car.

"What are you doing." He hissed. Peter walked closer to Y/n trying to cover her as she picked the lock to the car.

"I just gave our problem a solution." She said without looking. She continued to twist the pieces around until she heard a little click. She gave a little cheer and opened the door.

"Yeah by stealing someone's car. Need I remind you is illegal."

" I like to think of it as borrowing. Besides I will happily leave you if you wish." She rolled her eyes. God, her head was throbbing.

Y/n took the plastic cover off of the steering column. There were three sets of wires and she grabbed the middle one. Y/n cut the red and blue wire. She touched the wires together until she heard the car start. She smiled to herself and lastly twisted the wires together.

She turned to Peter "Are you getting in or what?"

Peter looked around and then sighed "Fine, but I'm driving."

"What? No way, you don't even look old enough to drive." She crossed her arms.

"You have a concussion so I'm our best bet at not dying." He gave Y/n a sarcastic smile.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes but got out of the driver's seat.

"You know if you keep rolling your eyes they are going to get stuck like that." She flicked him off and he laughed.

Y/n basically collapsed into the passengers seat. Peter closed his door and started the car. He pulled into the street and Y/n rested her head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against her forehead. She notice a bruise on Peter's pale cheek from when he got hit earlier.

Every now and again he would glance at Y/n to see how she was doing. He figured she must not feel the best because she hasn't said one witty remark since they got into the car.

He hoped by now the Avengers were back at the compound and could Tell them what's going on and who was following them.

He looked over to her again and she had her eyes close. He jabbed her with his elbow "Hey, don't fall sleep. You might not wake back up."

"Hmm Okay." She said but didn't budge.

"I'm serious Y/n, open your eyes." Peter was starting to get worried. It wasn't that he cared about her. But he didn't know what to do with a dead body. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Don't get your panties into a bunch, my eyes are open."

They pulled into the road of the compound. When it came into view Y/n suddenly sat up wide eyed "Holy shit."

"What?" Peter took his eyes off of Y/n and followed her line of sight.

"What the fu-"

Part 4

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

[loxbbg]

The Lost Girl

Chapter 14

series Materlist

Masterlist

"Has she gotten out of her room since you got back." Ever since Skyler left the tower Peter hasn't  heard anything from her besides one worded replies via text she screens his calls and had no contact with any of the avengers as far as he knows.

"No ever since she came home she's locked herself in her room. We tried going inside but we either got a book to the head to something heavier. Only person allowed in there is Alfred and the first couple of days he almost got hit with a knife or something." Peter knew this would impact you in some way and hearing Jason tell him about you made him feel helpless. He wanted to help you avoid this feeling.

"Maybe I should talk to her."

" I don't  know kid we tried and she wouldn't talk to us." Dick pipped into the conversation.

"Well I haven't lied to her or you know wipe her memory, so maybe factor that in." Dick looked away. Peter walked up to Skyler's room praying its not as bad as he thinks. Hoping he can help the broken girl behind the door.

Peter wished he could've helped her, If he knew after her leaving would hurt her this bad he would've tried harder to keep her to stay at the tower and try to talk to Tony rather than running. It was life after coming home she went from being happy to go home to not wanting to do anything with her.

"Sky?" He knocked on the door not wanting to just break down her door. When he got no answer he knocked again but harder.

"I believe she might be sleeping master Peter." The old man came with a cart of tea.

"I was just about to wake her up actually. She hasn't had anything since morning." he gently opened the door offering Peter to go in the room first. Once he entered the room he saw the little figure of a broken girl taken over by an entire bundle of blankets. Her brown hair all over the place. He stepped closer to her frame sitting at the edge of her bed but not too far from her where he could place a hand on her leg. He wasn't too far where he couldn't see the tear marks on her cheek. He wanted to wipe them away but didn't want to wake you up.

"Miss Skyler you need to wake up." Guess Alfred thought otherwise. Skyler shifted to face Alfred.

"Did you brush your teeth today?"

"Only thing I really did today."She noticed someones hand on her leg and Alfred was to far to grab her leg. She slowly got up following the persons hand to their face.

"Peter." She started to tear up she hasn't talked to anyone she really cared about besides Alfred for the past couple weeks.  She felt she disappointed him by coming back to the manor. She disappointed herself coming back to the manor she just needed to get away from Tony and Wanda she couldn't face them. Coming back was the best option in mind at the time forgetting about the people who put her in the position in the first place.

"I'm sorry Peter I-I." she stuttered. Alfred left the two to catch up. The boys gathered at the door seeing this, the only person other than Alfred she let stay in her room without a shoe to the head.

"Hey don't be sorry." He grabbed her arms pulling her closer to him as she began to cry. He smoothed down her hair trying to calm her down.

"I should be, I just left you and stayed away for weeks locked up in here."

"Hey you had all the right to after everything you found out I'm sorry I didn't come visit earlier."

"It's ok I probably wouldn't have let you in. How's Tony?" Before the words could fully leave her mouth they heard something break down stairs and then yelling.

"She's my daughter Wayne you can't keep her away from me." Tony was heard all the way from her room. The two teens looked at each other. Sky rushed to her closet to put on pants. They both rushed out of her room downstairs to be met with Tony's arm covered in armor and Bruce in a fighting position the boys all ready to fight him.

"Dad." Both men turned to look at the girl. She almost forgot.

"Tony, Bruce. What are you doing?"

"Skyler, I just wanted to see you but Bruce said that you didn't want to see me."

"I never said I didn't want to see you. I haven't  said anything to anyone besides Alfred since I've gotten back." She looked tired and just sick of the situation.

"You lier." Tony looked ready to blow someones head off.

"I was trying to protect her."

"Shut up with the trying to protect me. Please I'm tiered  of people saying that."

"Sky." Bruce whispered to his daughter

"Can I talk to Tony, alone. please?" She asked. They looked weary.

In reality Skyler really shouldn't be going through this much stress yes Alfred brought food for her but she never really ate, she never drank anything. She could bearly get out the bed to even use the bathroom. She's moving to fast she has no energy that her powers won't even work or she'll pass out.

"Skyler, I never knew about you If I did I would've taken care of you, I would've begged Wanda to give you to me If I knew you existed and were mine Sky I would've taken you without a doubt raised cuz you're my daughter Sky." Tony was crying trying to convince her he wanted her if he knew about her.

"You say that now Tony but Im a product of a one night stand what would've happened with you and Pepper. You were younger you can't say you would keep the responsibility of having a kid. Wanda did what was best to her she put me with someone who had children, who I would be well off with. Tony I'm 16 there's nothing you can really do besides clear up stuff for me. I would like to get to know you Tony but I don't know if I can have the relationship you want. Not right now."

"I understand Skyler thanks for giving me the chance to have a relationship with you at least. I will always consider you my daughter and I wish I knew of you earlier." Her world began to spin the lack of nutrition is getting to her.

"Ok can we go back to the guys I'm not really feeling too well."

"Hey kid are you ok what wrong." she fell to her knees trying to focus on one thing to gain balance. Tony picked her up running her over to Bruce and the boys.

"Dad." Skyler whispers reaching out for Bruce her vision was going in and out of focus. Bruce grabbed her from his hands her read hair falling over her his shoulder.

"What did you do to her Stark." Jason brought him closer to his face dragging him by his collar.

"Jay ..leave.. Dad ..alone." Everyone stopped what they were doing shocked. Maybe it was her lack of consciousness but even after everything she told Tony in her mind he has already gained the right as her dad after taking her in. But he still can't replace Bruce.

"Sir I think Its best we take care of Skyler and when she wakes up discuss this, its obvious she hasn't been eating or drinking anything in a while so let's get her to the med bay before anything else hap... " Before he could finished his sentence Skyler blacked out in Bruces arms going limp.

[kirah69]

Like a Porn

This was supposed to be for @petopher-events Petopher Week, but I had some bad days, and besides this was a request from @andygods so I wanted it to be good.

(Andy said the prompt sounded like a porn so that's where the title comes from.)

Like a Porn

[AO3 link]

Day 4: “Do you think you could just go one day without pissing me off?” (I didn't use it literally)

Summary: Peter (17) is Victoria's younger brother. She has married Chris and now the three of them live together. The two brothers-in-law don't get along very well... in appearance.

Tags: Human AU, anal sex, rimming, infidelity, younger top/older bottom, masturbation.

When their parents died, with no other family left, Victoria had to take care of her twelve-years-old brother, Peter. They had been left a good inheritance, and Victoria was already working, so taking care of her little brother was not a big problem, beyond the trouble he used to get into in high school. Although the teachers and the principal used to turn a blind eye due to his situation. After all, he wasn't a bad kid either, he didn't mess with drugs or robbery or other major crimes. He was just a sarcastic boy who liked to piss off others. And now, at seventeen, his main target was her husband, Christopher. He and Victoria had only been married for a few months, and every day was a nightmare. Not because she fought with her husband, no, but because Peter kept picking on Chris and, although Chris tried to ignore him most of the time, he sometimes couldn't help but answer back. When they started arguing, Victoria would roll her eyes and leave them to it. She could understand Peter's behavior. The boy must feel overprotective of his older sister, his only family, and she would feel the same if Peter had a girlfriend (a serious girlfriend, not the sporadic flings he used to have).

“Peter! You left the empty milk bottle in the fridge, again,” Chris scolded him as soon as the boy appeared in the kitchen, dressed only in his boxers as usual.

“Me? Nah, I don't think so.” He shouldered past Chris and grabbed the bottle of orange juice from the open fridge.

“Who else would do something like that?” Chris asked, closing the fridge when Peter pulled away.

“A ghost? Or maybe you drank the milk while you sleepwalked, and now you don't remember.” He put two slices of bread in the toaster and took a banana from the fruit bowl.

Victoria sighed and got up to put her breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

“I'll leave you two to it.” She gave her husband a kiss and ruffled Peter's hair.

She took her things and went to work. Peter was on vacation and Chris worked from home, going to the office just for some meetings, but Victoria worked from 9 to 5 at the town hall.

When he heard the front door close, Peter smiled and sat on the counter. He peeled the banana and opened the juice bottle while Chris searched the pantry.

“We're out of milk! Why didn't you add it to the list?” Chris exclaimed, turning around.

He froze for a moment, and his cheeks flushed. It was visible even under the beard. Peter knew what Chris was seeing, him sitting alone in his boxers on the counter, legs spread apart, a banana in hand, and his head thrown back as he drank the juice, a few drops dripping down his chin and neck.

“D-don't drink from the bottle,” Chris scolded without much energy and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, brother,” he said with a smile. Peter knew calling him that made him nervous, mostly because of the way he said it.

“When you finish the milk, add it to the shopping list if you're not going to buy it yourself. And don't leave the empty bottle in the fridge,” Chris told him, trying to sound annoyed like he didn't have a semi in his pants.

“I'll try to remember it.”

Peter opened his mouth in an o-shape and shoved a big part of the banana into it, keeping eye contact with Chris at all times. His brother-in-law was unable to look away, staring at him with his mouth half open. The toaster popped and Chris reacted.

“I-I have to work.” He turned around and almost ran out of there, forgetting about breakfast.

It was sooo funny. From the moment Victoria introduced them, Peter had taken an interest in Chris. Too bad he was his sister's boyfriend and now her husband, but that didn't stop Peter from playing with him from time to time. He had to maintain the facade, of course, of an annoying brother, but he loved knowing that Chris got hard for him. He wondered if Chris ever masturbated or even fucked his sister thinking of him.

Shit. Now he was hard. Well, that had an easy solution. Peter went into his room without bothering to close the door behind him and got naked. He pulled the suction cup dildo out of his little collection and stuck it on the floor in the middle of his room. He grabbed the lube from the same drawer and knelt on a cushion with his ass over the dildo, his face to the full-length mirror of his closet and his back to the open door. Yes, he hoped Chris would catch him, he had been trying since they moved in together after the wedding, but Chris never fell for it.

He lubed his ass until he had a couple of fingers in, which wasn't hard because he was quite active, and he also lubricated the dildo. He went down on it slowly. He couldn't rush, the size was considerable. Peter liked the burning when it opened him, so he never stretched himself too much. He took a deep breath and sighed when the glans of the fake cock passed his entrance, he loved that part. After a moment, he rested his hands on his thighs and continued to lower himself, slowly spreading his legs until he reached the base. He couldn't hold back a moan, nor did he want to.

As soon as he got used to having it inside him, he began to move slowly, trying not to rub his prostate just yet because he wasn't in a hurry. He could see it go in and out on the mirror, his hard cock bouncing up and down and his hole glistening with lube. He had a good body, he was the captain of the basketball team for a reason, and he didn't mind that it was narcissistic to look at himself while he masturbated. Although he would rather be able to look at a certain person.

Then, he saw movement in the corner of the mirror and his heart raced. It was his chance. He went into performance mode, wiggling his body a little more, lifting his ass to give Chris a good look and raising the level of his moans. He sounded almost like a whore, but if it worked he didn't mind.

Chris had gone to his office so quickly after Peter had exposed himself in the kitchen that he hadn't eaten anything, and now his stomach was roaring. When he heard the boy go into his room, Chris waited a few minutes for his semi to drop completely (it was a natural reaction, it had nothing to do with his brother-in-law or with that slim body or with his damn teasing). Thinking the coast was clear, Chris left his office and headed for the kitchen, but then stopped when he reached Peter's bedroom door. For a second he didn't know what those sounds were, but then he recognized them. That damn kid... and he hadn't even closed the door!

He had to turn around and go back to the office. He couldn't give in, couldn't fall for his teasing, he'd been resisting, and now he couldn't... A louder moan made him look unintentionally. Shit! What was he doing on the floor? What was...? Where did he get that thing from? And he seemed to put everything inside so easily even though the size was larger than the average penis. His face was so full of pleasure, his mouth open and his eyes closed with a blush on his cheeks. The muscles in his legs contracted with the effort of going up and down. It was hypnotic to see that athletic body move and his long cock jump up and down, dripping. It would feel so good ins-. No! No, no, no, he couldn't think of that. He turned and hurried back to his office, but before closing the door he could hear Peter come.

Shit, now he really was fully hard, and this time it wasn't going to get down by itself. He unbuttoned his pants and sat in his chair. He didn't want to do that, he knew it was wrong, but his resistance had a limit. At first, Chris thought Peter was just jealous because he felt like Chris was stealing his sister. But he soon came to the conclusion that Peter wanted to drive him crazy, pacing the house almost naked (or sometimes completely naked when he got out of the shower), with deliberately obscene gestures and those... those looks. He wasn't sure if Peter wanted to eat him or be eaten by him.

A growl rumbled in his throat and Chris came with the image of Peter fucking himself in that stupid toy.

“What a waste.”

Chris was startled and almost fell out of his chair when he heard Peter. He hadn't even realized that Peter had opened the door and there he was, leaning against the door frame, completely naked and with some lubricant between his legs.

“W-what are you doing-?”

“All that cum would be so much better inside me,” Peter said, walking toward him.

“Peter, for God's sake, you have to stop this. I'm married to your sister!” He wanted to get up, but Peter was so close. If Chris got up, he would touch the boy, so he could only try to cover his flaccid dick.

“Yeah... But we both know that my sister is quite frigid. And, or my instinct is really fucked, or you lean towards my side more than you let on,” he said with a knowing smile.

Chris opened and closed his mouth not knowing what to say because yes, he was right. Chris had been hiding it all his life because his family was too conservative, but it was as Peter said.

“I-it doesn't matter, now-.”

“You're married, blah blah blah. Are you going to fuck me or not?” Then a gleam passed through his eyes, and Peter leaned over Chris, putting his hands on the arms of the chair. “Or do you prefer to be fucked? It'd be no problem, I'm very versatile.”

Something must have given him away because Peter smirked like the Cheshire cat. He was overwhelmed, he couldn't believe Peter could read him so easily. He had hidden it for so long, terrified that his father would find out (he had been beaten for much less) and somehow this kid had found out. And there he was, in front of him, with that sexy naked body, offering to do whatever Chris wanted. So tempting. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't, he was married, and Peter was his brother-in-law. It was so wrong and he missed it so much. His heart was beating so loud that it was pounding in his ears. He couldn't take it anymore.

He got up, throwing the chair back, and ran out of there.

Peter was a bit stunned. He didn't expect that reaction. He hoped he hadn't scared him off for good. It was obvious that Chris was still in the closet, and perhaps he had been too blunt. Although it was clear that Chris was attracted to him.

When hours passed and Chris still didn't return home, Peter began to worry seriously. Usually they would always have lunch together or at least Chris would make food for both of them. He knew that if he didn't, Peter would only eat takeout, but Chris didn't even show up for lunch. Shit, maybe he had really screwed up this time. What was that feeling? Maybe it was remorse he felt.

Finally, Chris came back just before Victoria did, his face shiny with sweat and his T-shirt wet, as if he had been running all those hours. Peter watched him from the living room, lying on the couch with a book in his hands as if he didn't care. Chris went upstairs, and Peter heard the shower. Shortly after, he came downstairs in clean clothes and started making dinner just as Victoria walked through the door. Peter rolled his eyes when they greeted each other with just a chaste kiss. What a waste.

“Are you starting with dinner now?” Victoria asked.

“Yes, I've been a little busy, but it won't be long,” he said as if it had been an ordinary day.

“And what about you? Have you done something today? Anything?” she asked Peter.

“I'm on vacation, Vic,” he replied without looking away from the book he hadn't been reading.

Victoria sighed and rolled her eyes.

“We'll talk later, I'm going to change.”

As soon as she disappeared upstairs, Peter got up and went to the kitchen. By the way his back tensed, Chris knew he was there, right behind him, but he didn't even turn to look at him.

“Aren't you going to tell her what happened?” Peter asked, moving a little closer.

“What good would it do?” he murmured, still not looking at him.

Peter leaned a little closer and placed his hands on the counter on either side of Chris. He did not move, he just continued cutting vegetables with slightly trembling hands.

“Maybe to make me stop bothering you...” Peter moved his hips and pressed his crotch against Chris ass. He wasn't hard, but Chris could feel his cock anyway. “Unless you like me bothering you,” Peter whispered in his ear.

Chris shuddered and unintentionally moved his hips. Peter could see his knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the knife.

“Your sister is upstairs,” Chris warned him with a hiss, making no effort to push him away.

“Is that the problem?” Peter asked with a smile.

Chris didn't answer, didn't say a word or move, even as Peter rubbed his half-hard cock against his ass.

As soon as he heard his sister come down the stairs, Peter turned away from Chris and went to get a soda from the fridge. Victoria came into the kitchen in her usual home clothes (which were not very different from the ones she wore on the street, always so neat). As soon as she saw Peter, she looked away from him.

“God, Peter! Can't you have some decency?” she asked, referring to the obvious erection that his loose shorts did not help at all to hide.

“You've seen worse,” he replied without feeling the slightest bit of shame.

“That doesn't mean I want to see it,” she sighed in exasperation.

He looked at the clock. It was already two in the morning. Chris was lying on his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling, his erection lifting the thin sheet. Peter had behaved relatively well the rest of the night, at least they hadn't argued. It had been even worse. The three of them had sat in the living room to watch a movie, Chris and Victoria on the couch, each in a corner barely touching, and Peter in the armchair next to Victoria. The boy wore only those shorts that highlighted his crotch and climbed up his thighs every time he moved. And of course Peter took advantage of it, with his legs spread apart, one over the arm of the chair, letting him almost see inside his pants. He was sure that Peter was doing it on purpose to tease him, everything he did was to tease him. Chris had that image in his head, and there was no way his erection would go down. Waking Victoria up to have sex wasn't an option, it wasn't Saturday. So when he couldn't take it anymore, he got out of bed and went to the hall bathroom so she wouldn't hear him.

He took off his clothes and got into the shower. Unfortunately the water wasn't cold enough, so it didn't help. He put his hand around the base of his erection, and before he even started to masturbate the door opened. He cursed to himself, he should have locked the door.

“Isn't that a little pathetic? That you're just married and have to resort to jerking off.”

Chris didn't know what to do, there was no way to cover or hide his erection in that transparent shower. And Peter was right, it was a little pathetic. The boy was smiling and did not hesitate to take off his boxers, the only clothes he was wearing, and get into the shower with him.

“God, Peter, Victoria is-.”

“Sound asleep,” Peter continued. He turned off the shower faucet, they didn't need the noise to cover it up. “And with the sleeping pills she takes she won't wake up to an earthquake, so you can be as loud as you want.”

Peter licked his lips and knelt in front of him. Chris had to say no. He didn't want to say no, but he had to. However, when Peter put his cock in his mouth almost to the bottom without the slightest gesture of discomfort, Chris went speechless. He threw his head back, hitting the wall, and Peter started giving him head. Fuck! He tried to stay in control, but it had been ages! And Peter was incredibly good with his tongue. Apparently it was useful for something more than just driving him crazy. Peter grabbed him by the hips and began to move his head up and down, reaching a little deeper each time as he kept moving his tongue along his shaft. He dared to open his eyes, and Peter was looking directly at him. Those intense blue eyes that seemed to see inside you, that had discovered his deepest secret. He couldn't stop looking, he was mesmerized. He didn't even notice the hand moving down his buttock until a finger pressed against his hole. A moan drowned between his lips and he couldn't help but jerk his hips and thrust against Peter's throat. And he couldn't stop, Chris grabbed Peter by the hair and kept thrusting until he came in his mouth.

For a moment he didn't think about anything, he only enjoyed the best orgasm he had had in... too long. Then, when Peter pulled the cock out of his mouth, Chris realized what he had done. He opened his eyes and looked at him in horror. Chris was sure he had pissed him off, but Peter was just licking his lips, stroking his hard cock absently. Peter looked up at him with a smile and stood up, using his hand on Chris' hip to help himself. The boy didn't say anything, just smiled at him, looking into Chris' eyes as he jerked off until he came all over his belly, thick white ropes splashing his skin. Chris was still panting, his heart racing. If he could, Chris would get hard again when Peter spread the cum with his fingers across his abs.

“Sleep well,” Peter said and got out of the shower.

Without even picking up his boxers, Peter left the bathroom. Chris stayed stunned in the shower for a moment, his belly smeared with Peter's semen. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He knew it was going to blow up in his face at any moment, but he hadn't felt this good in years. Maybe just once and that's it. Peter would get what he wanted and find new entertainment. He knew that this was just a game to Peter, like a child infatuated with the toy he could not have. Once they fucked, Peter would get bored, and Chris would be satisfied for several years. Yes, just once.

Breakfast was like any other day. An argument over some nonsense Chris couldn't even remember. Peter in his underwear, teasing and just being inappropriate. A sexual tension so strong that it was impossible to ignore, and Victoria completely oblivious to all of it as always. It felt like foreplay, and Chris had an irrational fear that Peter would just pull down his pants and fuck him right there.

But that didn't happen, of course. Victoria went to work, and Peter went up to his room. Chris stood in the kitchen utterly confused, not knowing what he should do now. Was Peter waiting for him upstairs or had that in the shower been it?

Then Peter came back with a bottle of lube and a black plug in hand that he left on the counter. Chris stared at him somewhat confused. Peter came up behind him and pressed him against the counter.

“I'm going to fill you with my cum and keep it there all day with this,” Peter told him, moving the plug between his fingers. “Sounds good?”

Chris cleared his throat, unable to answer, but he nodded with some enthusiasm. He heard Peter's laugh, but at that moment he didn't care. The boy's hands were already unbuttoning his pants.

“Wait, here?” he asked, a little alarmed.

“Here, in the living room, in the dining room, in the bathroom, in my room, in yours... I plan to fuck you all over the house.”

Peter meant it, and Chris shuddered at the thought. Maybe it wasn't going to be just one time.

His pants fell to the floor, and the boy next to them. Peter pushed the pants aside along with his underwear and patted his legs apart.

“Bend over,” Peter ordered.

“What are you going to-?”

“Bend over, Chris,” he repeated. “Be good for me.”

Peter smiled when those words made him shiver. Chris leaned over the counter and spread his legs as Peter directed. He expected the lube, the preparation before Peter fucked him, but not his tongue directly over his hole.

“Fuck! Peter, what...”

“Hmm...” Peter was a little too busy to answer.

Peter spread his buttocks with both hands and began to lick from his perineum, over his hole and up his crack. A couple more licks, almost like a dog, and Chris was about to ask him to stop because it was a weird feeling. But then Peter focused on his hole and Chris forgot all about it. Peter licked his hole, adding as much saliva as he could, and began to push slowly, just testing at first. When Peter finally pierced him with his tongue, Chris let out an oh followed by a long moan.

“Yes, yes, Peter, don't stop,” he pleaded without thinking.

And Peter didn't stop. He fucked Chris with his tongue, letting out moans of pleasure, almost as if he were feasting. Fuck, someone should give that boy a medal for that tongue, some record or something. He couldn't believe how talented Peter was. How much experience did he have? Definitely more than him because it was the first time someone had done that to him. His gay experiences were nothing more than the odd sordid encounter in a nightclub with some spit as lubricant in a filthy bathroom stall. But this was different, it was dirty, but in another way. It was perverted and forbidden because Peter was his wife's little brother. It was so wrong in so many ways, but it felt so good.

Then Peter pulled his mouth away and Chris almost screamed.

“Shh... Another day I'll make you come with just my tongue, but now I have other plans,” Peter promised, stroking his hard buttocks. Chris had been in the military and was still fit. All those muscles covered by that blond hair. Peter had been in love with them from day one.

He took the lube and poured a good amount over his fingers.

“I'm ready, do it now,” Chris asked, opening the legs a little more.

Peter clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“I like it lubed,” he replied.

He slid a finger in little by little, and Chris was so willing and his hole so relaxed that there was barely resistance. He rubbed inside, searching for the spot, and Chris let out a yelp when he found it.

“There! There, Peter, there!” Chris almost pleaded with his legs shaking.

“I know, let me take care of you,” Peter told him, kissing his thigh.

He kept rubbing his prostate gently, not wanting to arouse Chris more than he already was, while moving his finger to stretch the edge, using the thumb of his other hand too. He knew it must have been years since Chris had last done it. Peter highly doubted Chris even touched himself, so he wanted to make sure it was as pleasant as possible. (And it wasn't easy because his cock was hard, sticking out the edge of his boxers and dripping. All he wanted was to be inside him.)

He slipped a second finger inside him and scissored them inside. Chris lifted his ass even higher as he moaned. If Chris already sounded like that with only a couple of fingers inside him, Peter couldn't even imagine what he would sound like while he was fucking him. Peter pushed a third finger inside him, and now Chris would barely stand up if it weren't for the counter he was leaning on. He felt a little hollow when Peter pulled his fingers out of him, but then Peter got up and pressed the tip of his cock against his entrance. And nothing else. He stayed still there, tempting him but not penetrating him.

“Peter!” he complained in frustration.

“Ask for it,” Peter told him with that damn smirk of his. “Tell me what you want.”

Chris felt the blush spread past his face. That kid had no limits (maybe he shouldn't call him kid when they were in that situation). He was cruel enough to stop if Chris didn't ask him the way he wanted. (Chris wanted to be upset, but he was just embarrassed at how much that turned him on.)

“F-fuck me...”

“Come on, you can do better.” He slid a hand up his back, pulling his shirt up. Mmh... He had good muscles in his broad back too.

Chris bit his lip and felt his hole tighten around the tip of the cock.

“Fuck me, Peter, fill me with your cock, please, please...” he begged with more sincerity than he expected. “I need it inside, please...”

“You beg so nicely,” Peter praised him with a kiss on the back of his neck, and his cock pierced his hole.

Chris moaned and shuddered. He moved his hips almost on instinct to try to get more inside, but Peter stopped him, placing an arm around his waist.

“So eager,” Peter laughed. “Next time I'll let you take control, don't worry. But now it's my turn.”

Peter grabbed him by both hips and thrust, almost bottoming in one go, grazing his prostate. Chris cried, and his mind went blank for a moment. Just seconds later, barely letting him adjust, Peter began to move his hips. He thrust until his balls hit Chris' and barely pulled his cock out before fucking him deep again. He was so tight and so hot that Peter couldn't stop himself, it was almost addictive. Peter had fuck with boys and girls, he was pretty popular in his school, but he had been wanting to do this since Vic had introduced them. A man a little older than him (barely eleven years) with those muscles, that beard and that military look. He had been part of his fantasies from day one. He had tried to replace him with others, but it had been impossible. But at last Chris was his, not in the way he expected but even better. And those moans that escaped him, the way his muscles contracted, the blush that reached his ears. If Peter kept up like this, he was going to come sooner than he wanted.

He grabbed Chris' cock with one hand and began to jerk him off while still fucking him. It was already dripping, and from the way Chris gasped and moaned he wasn't going to last long. Peter wrapped an arm around his waist to keep Chris from hurting himself on the edge of the counter and began to thrust harder, letting himself be led by his desire. But that didn't last long, he couldn't take it any longer when Chris' insides tightened around him as he came over the kitchen cabinets.

“Fuck-... Chris...” Peter growled as he came inside him.

He stood panting, leaning against Chris with his cock still inside him. They were both sweating, but neither seemed to mind. Chris complained when Peter pulled out of him, but then Peter placed the plug in his hole and Chris sighed with some relief. He didn't want his hole empty again.

“Perfect...” Peter sighed with a goofy grin. “I'm going to take a shower. I'll be in the living room. If you want me to fill you up more, come when you feel like it.”

Peter gave him a gentle spank that made him moan with the movement of the plug inside him and left the kitchen. Chris stood still panting, leaning against the counter with a soft smile on his lips. It was definitely not going to be the last time. That had been the best orgasm of his life, and he couldn't wait to repeat it. Later would come the regrets and guilt, but now he felt so relaxed that he could lie on the kitchen floor for the rest of the day if he didn't have to work (he had to clean up that mess first though).

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 17

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: Feelings! PTSD! Anxiety! Clint! Team bonding! Reader is a badass 😍 And comic book medical accuracy .

Un-beta-ed.

"It smells like a liquor factory in here," Bucky's voice came from the kitchenside, followed by noises of the team's arrival. Via portal, because the elevator made zero noise.

"I suggest you avoid the area around me and Clint. It might be contaminated." My voice sounded sharp to my own ears. I sat in silence for several hours, waiting for the team's return, while Clint restlessly dozed next to me.

My words caused the team to freeze in their tracks, owlishly blinking at me and at Clint laying sprawled on the floor, surrounded by plastic bags and biological hazard containment units. Tony's helmet swiftly covered his face - I heard muffled sounds coming from within, probably Friday's explanations. In seconds, the helmet retracted, showing an extremely worried Tony.

"How do you feel, Princess? Any weakness, any pain?"

"No symptoms, Tony. Just a fuckton of anxiety," I admitted, avoiding the concerned looks of Tony's teammates. "I almost drowned the room in alcohol but warned you just to be safe. Also, your alien pathogen protocol sucks."

"We made it so unauthorized personnel wouldn't get their hands on Thor's or Loki's blood samples," Bruce supplied meekly from where he was leaning against Steve, wearing a tattered hoodie and his hulk-out pants. "Off to decon we go," The scientist sighed. "Friday, code seven-zero-three-five-five. Pull up the data you gathered. In the shower." The man was exhausted, yet the call of science seemed to give Bruce a tiny energy boost. With newfound determination, he waddled to the communal showers, the rest of the team in tow.

Natasha's stare was truly unnerving. I was fully aware she and Barton had long history; the fact that I had to respond to one of the deadliest assassins if I had made even the slightest mistake - anxiety mixed with blind terror in me. I fought the nausea and the headache, focusing on Clint's hair between my fingers. His steady breathing.

He'd be okay. He had to be okay.

"You did great, Princess," The time passed in a blink. Bruce's warm hands were encompassing mine - gently pulling me away from Clint. I looked at Banner's face with unseeing eyes.

"I heard what Friday said and I can only applaud your quick thinking. You saved his life," Strange, sounding uncharacteristically quiet and bashful, parroted Bruce, hovering behind the scientist. His angular face was contorted in sorrow. "I believe I should apologize for dropping Barton onto you like that. I underestimated the extent of his injuries." The man sounded so, so guilty.

"I saved his life," I repeated in disbelief. Surely they were exaggerating.

"You did, malysh. For that, I am grateful," Natasha's hand found my own, squeezing briefly, before following Steve that had picked up a still-sleeping Clint, to, presumably, carry him to medical. "Come on, Banner, we need you."

Banner gave me a brief squeeze of his own, taking his leave, scurrying after Romanoff. I was left awkwardly standing in front of Strange, both of us disheveled and dazed.

"I ordered pizza," I said, just to fill the grim silence.

"Okay," Just like that, he snapped out of his trance, sitting down on the couch and picking up his food.

The others trickled in, Bucky, Pete, Thor, Loki, Sam, Wanda, Pietro. I saw it all like it was tinted by a thick fog. Their words made a jumbled cacophony when they reached my ears. Tony's arm around me - that woke me up, slightly. I focused on my favourite thing in the world - the faint smell of him, a mix of soap, machine oil and expensive cologne.

"She's shellshocked," Bucky suddenly said, pointing at me.

"No," I frowned. "No. I may be a fumbling idiot but I don't have PTSD."

Tony's breath stuttered in his chest. Promptly, I was turned around, a pair of intelligent brown orbs sharply gazing into my eyes. "Princess?"

"I'm so glad y'all are alright," I choked out, fisting the cotton of his shirt in my palm. "Even Stephen the asshole. Team bonding wouldn't be the same without his sarcasm," Hurrying to hide the fact that I was scared shitless, I did what I do best. I joked.

"Gods, you two are really a match made in heaven," Wanda's tired voice had 110% eye-roll in it. "So much self-deprication, almost as much as brilliance." The witch usually refrained from commenting on people's private thoughts. Usually, but not that day.

"I am relieved to know you hold me in high regards," Stephen's sarcastic remark made it's way around a mouthful of pizza.

Bucky's phone beeped. "They're saying Clint will be out in a few hours. No permanent damage, the gash on his leg won't scar and he's demanding Tony buy his saviour a cake," With a smile, the soldier read the text's contents out loud. "Also, the resident doc wants to hire you." Bucky pointed at me with a teasing grin.

"I, umm, I," Stammering, way to go. "I just - uh, I googled and I improvised? I'm not a doctor or a scientist, I'm a high school student," I replied, voice raising half an octave higher.

"Told you Tony, she's a friggin' genius," Peter sounded way too smug for someone who had a bruise half the size of his head.

"That she is," Tony's voice... Was different. It was honeyed and warm, blanketing me, surrounding me with safety. His arms tightened around me - not uncomfortably so, just enough to ground his presence in my personal space. I snuggled into him happily - he didn't mind at all. The cold glow and faint humming of his arc reactor calmed me. "Friday, cake. Princess cake from the bakery on Seventeenth."

Wow, Tony knew my favourite kind of cake. That was amazing.

"On it, boss." The AI immediately replied. "Well done, Miss." Friday addressed me with the same tone I heard in the lab. Gentle and understanding. It was so very strange.

We mulled around the living room until the pizza was gone and half the occupants were snoring away, dead where they sat. It was an unanimous decision to pull out the unfolding couch and form a cuddle pile of sorts - after such a long and grueling mission with one of their own facing the brink of death, all the superheroes were more than a little unsettled. I didn't exactly know where I fit in that. Obviously, all of them were close in one way or another. Even Loki and Stephen, seeing them get cussed out by Thor for attempting to leave was kind of amusing.

But it got me wondering. Maybe they felt like imposters, too? After all, I wasn't special. Loki wasn't considered a good guy. And Stephen was too much of a lone wolf. All three of us were comfortable alone, used to dealing on our own.

One look from Tony, Stark-patented puppy eyes, and I was making space for myself and for Stephen. Even if Loki insisted on grumbling all the way through, his exhaustion showed in the way he leaned on Thor's arm, using a weakly glimmering spell to summon himself a book and then closing his eyes for a moment.

Muted cheering broke out the moment elevator doors opened, showcasing a pale but smiling Clint held up on both sides by Natasha and Steve, Bruce half asleep on the blonde's other side.

"Looking pretty good for a dead bitch," Clint grinned in my direction.

I couldn't resist the bait. The boomer knew his memes, after all. "She's alive!"

He patted my leg, making his way to a free spot on the ginormous sofa bed. "Aw, pizza," He groused, spying the empty boxes.

"Should arrive in ten minutes," Bucky quipped, waving his phone. Then, the brunette super-soldier looked at me pointedly. "We usually order double after long missions."

"Duly noted, y'all hungry peoples." I said, filing it away for later. Thinking about more missions, more near-death experiences wasn't something I wanted to handle that very moment.

"So, uh, what exactly happened? My memory is pretty spotty," Clint demanded once he got his hands on some food.

"I also need to know. You're going to have to sign a statement and a mission report," Natasha stated apologetically.

I looked at her, confused. "Like... How many details do you need?"

Tony shifted beside me uncomfortably. I put a steadying hand on his leg - my palm was immediately dwarfed by his own. Natasha gave him a Look. "Fury's eyes only, but SHIELD needs to know how you figured out to neutralise a potential alien threat. Bruce ran some tests and this pathogen is... Pretty nasty, to say the least. It has the survivability to be classified as a potential weapon." Natasha's voice was apologetic, once more.

What have I gotten myself into? I was just trying to save a friend. "First of all, I'm not working for Men in Black, like, ever," I made the point to look her in the eyes. A brief moment later, she nodded. Tony relaxed, exhaling soundly. "Okay, get your reading glasses on. It went like this..." I retold the story, taking careful note to voice my thought processes as much as I remembered them. Save for a few surprised gasps and Tony haphazardly kissing the top of my head, the team gave me no interruptions.

Bruce was the first one to react once I was done. "But... How did you think of bloodletting? It's such an unusual solution," He mumbled more to himself.

"I've watched enough horror movies to know better than to introduce a foreign bacteria, such as antibiotics, to a person with an alien infection," I deadpanned, spying a satisfied smile on Stephen's face. "Worst case scenario, the substitution of infected blood with healthy would have diluted the amount of parasites or deflected their attention from eating away Clint's nerve endings. Him going bazinga from pain was my main concern," I admitted, the archer's pained cries once again filling my ears. The memory was still fresh.

"That makes sense," Bruce nodded.

"And what would you have done?" I asked, unable to withhold my curiosity.

"Sedated Clint while I examine the specimens," Banner replied with the obvious. "Then figure out how to cure the infection."

I nodded along slowly. "I considered that option but ultimately, I was too chicken to entertain the possibility of the parasites interacting with heavy sedatives. Fentanyl affects some of the blood components the parasites eat so only God knows how it might have ended."

Banner was impressed, that much was obvious. Tony's lips once again landed on the crown of my head, gentle and warm. More and more people in the room were giving me impressed, happy, grateful looks. It was strange and I squirmed in my spot, putting the half-eaten pizza slice back in the box, Steve immediately eyeing it in contemplation.

"Have at it, you human garbage disposal," I muttered, laying down comfortably. I was still shivering from the adrenaline rush and the soft blanket cocoon I shared with Tony and Stephen - their combined body heat under it - called to me like a siren.

"Are you well?" Loki noticed my state, casting a dark look over the edge of his book.

"Yeah, just cold. Us humans shiver when coming off an adrenaline rush," I remarked absently, pressing myself closer to Tony.

The engineer laid down, spooning me, tangling our legs together. We slept like that, all over each other, every time I stayed in his bed. It felt comfortable, like home, and nobody seemed to mind. Peter and Wanda, already snoozing away, were in a similarly indisposed state, octopus-ing their nearest teammates. Friends. Family.

My eyes drooped. My chest was about to burst with an odd sort of content - quiet, steady and welcoming. Tony's beard tickled my neck, breaths coming in soft puffs against my nape, spreading warmth all over me.

And there was something - someone warm in front of me, too, I could smell the sandalwood and spices of his cologne. Abandoning all reservations, I shamelessly wrapped both of my arms around a larger, more muscular one, taking note to avoid Stephen's scarred, sensitive hands. The flat of his tummy under my palm was rising and falling steadily, his breathing almost in sync with Tony's and mine.

All of us were safe and alive. It mattered to me, perhaps, more than I'd ever cared to admit out loud. As much as I refused to let them all in, for real and beyond silly gimmicks, they still wormed their way inside my heart, inside my brain. Not with long discussions and talking feelings - hell no, that's the hard and the boring shit, but with simply their presence.

Hugs. Mario Kart tournaments. Cake after I'd done good at something. Sunday morning pancakes for all. Homework. Sciencing together. Catching up on memes and just watching funny YouTube videos together. Playing Twister and Monopoly.

For the first time in my life, I had a stable presence. I belonged somwhere. It felt too good to deny, so once again, I allowed myself to be selfish.

✨ Taglist of my lovelies ✨ still open.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading

[ghostbustermelanieking]

northern bound trains

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon has to wipe his own eyes, then, pretend he isn't crying a bit. He swallows hard and leans his head against the window and watches Martin through the glass until the train pulls away from the station. 

---

Martin stands at the platform for too long after Jon's train leaves, watching the empty tracks. About as pathetic as you can get. His hands are freezing, so he keeps them in his pockets, and he watches for fog and listens for the churn of the ocean, but there's nothing there. Just the pressing crowd of the train platforms. Other trains come and go, but of course, Jon's train doesn't come back. 

He's safe, he tells himself, over and over again. He's safe, and that's all that matters, isn't it? That's why you did what you did with Peter. You did it, you saved him. And he couldn't have gone with Jon, anyway. 

Three trains come before Martin stands up from the platform and walks towards the cab stand. To go home, he supposes, or go back to the Institute. Basira could probably use the company, too, after Daisy. (Except he and Basira have never really been that close, and Melanie has gotten away, and his mum is gone, and Jon's gone too, now, and here he is, alone again…) 

Martin takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. He won't let that happen again, he won't, it's not going to happen again. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, desperate for something to fill the empty spaces in his head. His first instinct, looking at his phone screen, is to call Jon. Looking at the seventeen missed calls from Jon, from when he was gone with Lukas. But he can't—Jon just left, that's ridiculous. So he calls Basira instead, just to check in. Just to hear someone's voice. 

She picks up sounding frantic, with that hard edge Basira usually has in her voice. "Martin? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing's wrong," Martin says quickly, pushing up his glasses to wipe his eyes again. He's sick of the crying, it's leaving his glasses all fogged and blotchy. Probably sounds like something is wrong. "Just… wanted to check in. Are you all right?"

Basira sighs. "I… yeah. Fine. I've been… I've been looking for Daisy." She sighs again, sharply, and says, "Jon's off, then?"

"Yes. Yes, he left about… forty minutes ago." Martin checks his watch uselessly; he knows how long it's been. How long he spent on that platform imagining himself chasing after the train like he's in some movie—ridiculous. How long he sat there wishing he'd just gone along. "Everything seemed all right. Nothing… nothing off about it."

"Good," says Basira. "And… you? What are you going to do, Martin?"

Martin knows what he should say. Things like I'm going to go and get some sleep, or I'll come and help search for Daisy , or I'm going to find Elias, I'm going to end this before it goes any further, before he hurts any of us ever again. But he doesn't say any of that.  He says what he wants to say, without even thinking about it, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost involuntarily. His fingers tighten around the phone, like it is the only thing that is holding him up, and he blurts, "I'm going with him."

Silence on the other end. "What?" Basira says, finally. "I thought… You said he was already gone."

"He is. I'll—I'll get the next train, I'll figure it out. I… I have to do this, Basira." 

He says this in a rush, like he's defending himself. Like he's expecting Basira to argue. But all she does is sigh again and say, "All right. Sure. I should've known something like this would happen, with you two."

Martin searches for the words for a moment, turning back towards the station, towards the place where Jon left. He could be there in just a few moments, headed for Jon, going after him. "You… you won't need me here?"

"No. No, Martin, we've done well enough without you these past few months." 

Martin flinches, fingers tightening around the phone, and he's ready to say something in response—maybe in apology, maybe in defense of himself, he isn't sure—but before he can, Basira says, "Shit. Just—forget I said that. I know why you did what you did, Jon told me. Just… just go on, all right? Do what you need to do. I'll… I'll just be looking for Daisy. I can call when I have news, about the… the police and everything."

Martin takes a shaky breath, bending nearly in half. "Okay," he says. "Okay." The reality of what he's doing is solidifying, somewhere by the lump in his throat. He doesn't want to be alone again. And he doesn't think he'd be alone if he stayed; if nothing else, he has Basira, and maybe Melanie if she'll talk to him. But it's not just that. It's not just about being with anyone. He wants to be with Jon. Right now, he wants to be with Jon. 

"Go get a train or… whatever. Keep Jon from doing anything stupid, when you get there," Basira says sternly. 

"Okay," Martin says again. "I… thank you, Basira." 

"Don't thank me. You do what you need to do." There's a bit of a silence again, before Basira finishes with, "Stay safe." And then she hangs up. Martin hears the beep in his ear. 

He slides the phone in his pocket and takes a few deep breaths. Walks to the ticket booth and gets a ticket on the next train to Inverness. 

No time to go home and pack, so Martin goes back and sits on the same bench to wait for the train, huddling up in his coat. It's nearly as cold here as the Lonely. He'll have to stop and buy some things; he doesn't think any of Jon's things will fit him. He tries to picture what Daisy's house must look like. Jon says it's near the ocean; he hopes it isn't like the Lonely. He doesn't think it will be, especially not with Jon there. 

Martin rests his head against a concrete post and resists the urge to let his eyes slide shut. He takes out his phone again to call Jon, just to let him know. Doesn't want to just show up on Jon's doorstep with no warning, especially if Jon would rather him not be there at all. (He doesn't think Jon will be opposed to him coming—well, he can't be sure, but he guesses not. Jon did follow him into the Lonely, after all, pulled him out and held his hand, and if nothing else, Martin thinks they could both use a friend. And if Jon doesn't want him to come, if his voice is full of stiff politeness that masks any conflicting feelings he might have, well, Martin will get a cab home before he's actually en route there. It's as simple as that.)

He listens to the phone ring and ring, but Jon doesn't pick up. Maybe his phone is dead. Or maybe it's too soon to call. Or maybe Jon is avoiding him…

Martin sighs and ends the call. No use lingering over that. Basira has texted him Daisy's address, so he'll be able to find the house either way. He saves the text and turns off the phone to save the battery, and boards the train as soon as it arrives, thinking only of arriving in Scotland and of finding his way to Jon. Jon found him, followed him into a lonely hell and saved him, and now it's Martin's turn to search for him, even if it's just in Scotland. He can keep Jon safe, keep him company; they can take care of each other. Be there for each other. That's all Martin really wants. 

---

Jon wakes up several hours into the journey and finds his phone dead. He Knows, then, exactly where his charger is, curled up on his cot beside his pillow, and he feels stupid for not thinking to bring it. There goes any chance he has of talking to Martin or Basira on the trip up. He'll have to get a new charger in Inverness. 

There's very little to do on the train, and lucky him, he's also forgotten any books to read. Or any statements. He isn't hungry or anything yet—Peter Lukas's statement might keep him going for a while now—but that might prove to be a problem later. (Jon wonders, briefly, if this is an excuse to ask Martin to come down here with him—but no, that's ridiculous, Martin shouldn't have to trek all the way to Scotland to deliver statements.) So, nothing to do. He spends some time watching out the window, and the scenery is nice, but even that gets tedious after a while. 

He tries to write a letter to Martin—it seems like it's too soon, but he's got nothing better to do, and he can mail it in Inverness if he sends it now. (And besides that, he misses Martin, even now. Saved him and went right back to missing him.) But everything he writes is all wrong, things he couldn't possibly send. Dear Martin, I miss you. Dear Martin, There's so much I want to tell you about, so much I wanted to tell you when you were gone. I should have told you everything while you were still there to tell. Dear Martin, I am so sorry I treated you so badly for such a long time. Dear Martin, I'm so sorry I didn't come for you sooner. Martin, come to Scotland. Martin, I still want to run away with you. I never stopped wanting that. He folds more than one letter up and shoves it away in his suitcase so he won't have to look at them. (A part of him can't really bear to throw them away.)

Jon goes back to watching out the window. There's a fog settling over the rolling green hills outside that instinctively makes him think of the Lonely. (Martin's hands had been freezing when Jon pulled him out of the fog. He spent half the walk out trying to rub warmth back into them.) He Knows it isn't the same, though; it's just normal fog, it's a rainy day. It's chilling and beautiful all at once. It makes Jon think of walking down a cold beach shouting Martin's name, Martin turning away in the fog, and he has to look away.

He starts composing another letter in his head without even thinking about it. Dear Martin, It's chilly here, but the scenery is beautiful. I think you'd like all the hills and the trees and the fields of flowers, all that green. You don't see that in London. It feels like something you might write poetry about, if you still write poetry. I wish you were here to see it, too. I wish you were here with me.

---

Martin doesn't sleep on the train for a long time. He's too anxious, knees rattling against the seat in front of him until the man inhabiting it gives him a dirty look. He's brought nothing with him, nothing to do, so he's left with more or less digging through his pockets to see what he has besides his wallet and phone. There's a couple pens; he kept carrying pens even after he fell out of the habit of jotting things or turns of phrase he liked down. He finds some crumpled statements Peter wanted him to read deep in one coat pocket and is instantly relieved; he figures Jon will need statements, and he's never read these far as Martin can tell. It's not a long term solution, there's only three of them crumpled all to bits, they'll have to figure something else out, but Martin realized twenty minutes after Jon left that they hadn't sent Jon with anything for sustenance, and this seemed like it was better than nothing. He should've asked Basira to send some; he'll ask the next time he talks to her. And in the meantime, at the very least, if Jon doesn't want to see him and sends him off, Martin will be able to deliver some statements so Jon doesn't starve to death. 

Martin doesn't think Jon will send him away. It doesn't make any sense that he would, not after he pulled Martin out of the Lonely. They're friends; Martin is sure of that. It doesn't make sense for Jon to save him and then turn him away. But Martin can't break the anxiety that leaves him worried that Jon won't want him there. That he'll have traveled all that way for nothing. It's entirely possible; if anything, Jon has earned some peace and quiet, some solitude. He doesn't need Martin's problems mucking it all up. But maybe… maybe he'll want a friend. Maybe he won't want to be alone either. He… he did ask Martin to come with him, after all, both of them blind themselves and leave the Institute and go live a happy life. And Martin had said no. 

Martin tries not to think about it. He spends some time looking out the window, watching the countryside flit by. There's fog gathering up on the hill, floating down towards the train, and Martin has to look away after a while. He keeps reliving the moment when Peter yanked him into the Lonely, how blank and trudging everything was until Jon found him. He never wants to feel that empty again. 

Eventually he does fall asleep, hands knotted in his lap, head against the window. His dreams are full of fog and salt-air and the endless gray ocean. The ocean's never looked like that when he's been in real life. 

When he wakes up, he feels cold all over, shivering in his seat. He reaches for the memory of Jon in the Lonely, embracing him at the shoreline, until he feels warm again. 

---

It's mid-afternoon when Jon's train arrives in Inverness. He's got about an hour and a half drive to Daisy's house, a bit of a haul after the hours he's spent traveling. He doesn't have the energy to shop before he drives out there; there's a village closer to the house where he can buy things, anyway. Jon doesn't want to do any of it; he just wants to get to the house and crawl into the bed and sleep so that he doesn't have to think about any of this. Doesn't have to relive the attack on the Institute, Basira and Daisy disappearing behind him, Martin being lost, Georgie turning away from him, Lukas ripping apart in the Lonely. Martin coming back to himself, the two of them hugging on the shoreline. Martin standing on the platform while Jon's train pulls away. 

Jon doesn't want to think about it, and so he buys a phone charger from one of the stores in the train station and plans to call and check in tomorrow. Call Basira for practicality; call Martin just to talk. He wants to talk to Martin; he hopes Martin will want to talk to him. He goes and rents a small car that won't take too much petrol, and he puts his one small bag in the boot, and he starts the long drive out to Daisy's. He Knows the way without having to check. The route isn't far from the sea; he can look out over the ocean sometimes. Remind himself of childhood, of the better moments in childhood. He hopes it will remind him of the moment when Martin came back to himself, not the moment when he left Martin behind. 

Hours later, over half a day later, and Jon still can't believe that he's left Martin behind. It was the best decision, it was the right thing to do, it seemed like the right thing to do. He was in danger and he shouldn't hang that all on Martin. Shouldn't press Martin into following him when there was nothing to gain and maybe everything to lose. But Martin was alone before this, left behind when Tim died and Sasha died and his mother died and Jon sort-of died. Alone and willing to throw everything away to keep them all safe. Willing to make himself even more alone. And Jon had followed him, Jon had brought him back. And now he's just going to leave? Leave Martin behind, alone again, like nothing's happened. After Jon's spent months wanting Martin to be there. After Jon asked Martin to leave with him. This was their chance, and Jon was too much of a coward to take it. Didn't want to ask Martin because Martin didn't love him anymore, but even if Martin didn't love him like that, they were still friends, and Martin still went into the Lonely for him, and Jon went in after him, and then Jon left him again. It's horrible, it's cowardly and horrible and Martin deserves better. Martin deserves so much better. 

And that's when Jon decides: he's going back. He's going back to get Martin, even if it is dangerous, he doesn't care if it puts him in danger if it saves Martin. If it keeps him from being Lonely. He'll go back and get Martin and ask him to come to Scotland, and if Martin says yes, they can come back together, hide out here and experience peace for the first time in years, maybe, or face whatever comes together. Basira can come too, if she wants, if it's safer in Scotland than London, and if neither of them want to come, then Jon will come back on his own, he'll do that, it's fine. If he's lucky, though, Martin will want to come back with him, and they'll be here to keep each other company. It's a good plan, a good one. Worse comes to worse, Martin won't want to come and Jon will have made a ridiculous round trip for nothing,  but it seems like a risk worth taking. Not like he's got much better to do. 

Jon turns the car around, right then. Right then. He'll go and catch a train right now, ride all the way back, no use in waiting. It's not as if anyone is waiting at Daisy's. No time like the present, and besides that, he doesn't want to wait any longer. He wants to see Martin. He wants to see him so badly—even though it has been less than a day since they saw each other, even then, he still misses Martin as badly as he has all these months. Like air. 

Jon drives too fast the whole way back to the station.

---

Jon won't be at the station when Martin's train arrives. Martin knows this. He does. But a small part of him is still disappointed that no one will be there when he gets off the train. He used to take the train up to visit his grandmother for the summer when he was little, at his mother's insistence ( I can certainly get help around the house, Martin, don't be ridiculous, the quiet will do us both good ), and he'd always enjoyed the summers, but the rides home would be awful, knowing when he got back he'd take a cab home alone and his mother would say, simply, So you're back then, when he walked in the house. He used to daydream about having someone meet him at the train station someday, but he grew up and got jobs and stopped visiting his grandmother, and then he stopped taking trains anywhere. 

He knows that won't happen today; Jon doesn't even know he's coming, and how could he know? Martin knows Jon is trying not to Know; he told Martin that while they were waiting for the cab to the train station, and Martin's grateful for that. He doesn't expect that. He'll get a car or something out to Daisy's, and hope that Jon doesn't want him to leave, and that will be enough. It will be. All that matters is that he's come here, and he's going to see Jon in a few hours, even if it's brief.

The train arrives, and Martin gets caught up in the press of people trying to get off the train, fumbling with his suitcase. It's crowded and a bit choking; the people pressing in on either side of Martin is some of the more direct human contact he's had in months. It takes a moment for him to steady his breathing, pushing his way off the train and to a spot where he can stand alone. He wipes sweaty palms against his jumper and tries to breathe deeply, reminds himself that he is out of the Lonely, that he isn't alone anymore. Relives all the little moments where he's been touched since he got out of the Lonely, mostly by Jon. He'll see Jon in a few hours. He's here and it's all going to be fine. 

There's voices all around him, talking in that way that all sort of blurs together to a long buzz, and Martin doesn't bother trying to listen. No one looking for him, after all. But then, over the din of the people on the platform, Martin suddenly hears it: the rising sound of someone calling his name. " Martin? " the voice says, familiar, achingly familiar and incredulous, and then again, louder: " Martin! " 

Martin whirls around, searching for the source of the voice, calling out in disbelief, " Jon? "

There he is, pushing his way through the crowd, and he must spot Martin because his face does something funny, and then he's moving towards Martin, and tears are burning in Martin's eyes, and he shouts, "Jon!" right back. And then Jon's there, and he's throwing his arms around Martin, crashing into him so hard that Martin stumbles back a step or two. 

Martin doesn't mind. He embraces Jon right back, knots his hands in the back of Jon's shirt and presses his face into Jon's hair. "Martin," Jon says muffledly, mouth moving somewhere against Martin's collarbone. "Martin, you're—you're here ." He sounds like he can't believe it, even with his face mashed against the front of Martin's jumper. "I didn't think—" he starts, and then seems to change his mind mid-sentence and says, again, "You're here ." 

Martin nods. His glasses are fogging up, shoved up on his forehead, and he's probably holding Jon too hard, but that doesn't seem possible because Jon is holding him just as tightly, a hand tangled in his hair. "I didn't…" he starts, and then changes his mind mid-sentence. "I missed you," he says instead. "I wanted to come. I missed you, Jon." 

Jon takes a sharp breath. His head tilts abruptly so he and Martin are nose to nose, his hand suddenly warm on Martin's cheek. Martin's crying; he thinks Jon is crying, too. And then Jon is kissing him, tentative at first, deep and messy and sweet, in a way that Martin can't remember having been kissed before in his life. 

Martin's breath catches in his throat and he tugs Jon forward by the hem of his jumper, even though there's barely any space between them anyway. Kisses Jon like he's wanted to for years. He's thinking, absently, of the moment where he heard that Jon had woken up, and he'd had to go and lock himself in the bathroom and cry, hands over his mouth so Peter wouldn't hear. Thinking only of going to the hospital to hold Jon's hand, to hug him and tell him how happy he was that Jon was all right. He's thinking of when Jon asked him to leave with him, and Martin had said no and it had felt right, but the gap had opened up as soon as Jon had left and he'd wanted to go after him, run after Jon and say of course he'd go with him, he'd follow him anywhere. Go after him and kiss him like this. It's been so long. He never quite thought they'd get here. 

Jon pulls away slowly, breathing a little unsteadily, whispers, "Is this… is this all right?" Martin says, "Yes, god, yes," and kisses him again. Softer this time, slower, the kind you can really melt into. They have time now. They have time. 

When Jon pulls back again, it's not all the way; he rocks his forehead forward against Martin, warm together, and they don't move for a long moment. Martin reaches between them for Jon's hand and Jon takes it, holding on tight. Martin blinks back tears, keeps his eyes shut, lost in the thick of it, so it takes him a minute to realize that Jon is speaking. Saying, "I'm so sorry," in a thick voice. "I'm so sorry, Martin."

"Don't apologize, " Martin says, his voice breaking, and he pulls Jon's hand up to kiss the back of it. Jon's face screws up, full of some emotion Martin isn't sure of, and he shakes his head. "Don't apologize," Martin says again, almost worriedly. "I don't—why are you…"

"I should have asked you to come," says Jon. "I… wanted to ask you to come. So badly. I wanted to… I was afraid you wouldn't want to. Or that I would be overstepping. And I'm sorry."

Martin chuckles, stunned and self-deprecating and maybe even in disbelief. Tugs Jon closer to wrap his arms around him tighter. "I wanted to come," he says softly. "Pictured myself… chasing after your train or some ridiculous shit like that. I wanted to. I should have… said something." He chuckles again, slowly. "I'm an idiot."

Jon laughs, too, and the sound is almost surprising. He squeezes Martin's hand. "I think we've both been idiots, Martin," he says quietly. "At least a little bit."

"A bit, yes," Martin whispers, kissing Jon's fingers again. Jon shivers a little, tugs Martin to the side. They end up on another bench, at another train station, leaning into each other like they're going to fall over. Looking out over the train tracks. Another train arrives and leaves. Neither of them are on it. Martin is glad. He doesn't want to be anywhere else. 

"You… came to get me," says Martin, after a long moment. Jon's got Martin's hand in both of his, their fingers a jumbled mess on Jon's knees, and he only seems to hold it tighter at that. Martin clears his throat, a little awkward, leans his head against Jon's. "Did you… Know I was coming?"

"No, I didn't," says Jon, apology thick in his tone. "I didn't want to… I try not to Look for anyone anymore. I told you that. And… my phone is dead. I didn't get your calls. I didn't… I came back to—to get a train for myself. Back to London. To… to ask you to come back with me."

Martin makes a shocked sound, muffled by his free hand. "You… you were coming to London? To get me?" he says, the words squashed under his hand and the disbelief. "You'd taken the train all this way and you were coming back? "

"Yes. Well, I." Jon sounds almost embarrassed, pressing his face into Martin's shoulder. "It seemed like the thing to do. And I… I wanted to see you. I… I've missed you so much, Martin."

Martin laughs, shaky and teary. "I'm not… I'm not making fun. Much. Since we both had the same exact farfetched, ridiculous idea. I just… can't believe you would do that."

"I'm not known for wise decisions, Martin. It just… it occurred to me and I knew I had to do it. I know it's ridiculous." Jon's voice goes suddenly soft around the edges, quiet, as he adds, "And anyways, yours… yours, at least, was romantic. Mine was just poorly thought out."

"Oh, Christ, Jon, don't be telling me yours wasn't," says Martin, his stomach twisting at the word romantic. (Not a bad twisting. Not at all.) "I can't believe you would… you've already done so much for me."

"I'd do it all again," Jon says, earnestly, squeezing Martin's hand again. "Every bit of it. I would." He must learn forward a bit, his head falls against Martin's again. He says, "I-I'm so glad you're here, Martin."

Martin takes an unsteady breath, scrubs at his eyes with his free hand and shuts them again. Tries to stifle a wobbly smile until he can't anymore. "I-I'm here," he says shakily. "I am. And I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon."

Jon must be crying, too; Martin can hear him sniffling. He shifts a little on the bench, sits up and turns towards Martin, keeping ahold of Martin's hand and wiping his own eyes with his other hand. "Th-there's only one bed at the house, Martin," he says quietly. "Just the one. Is… is that all right?" 

Martin takes a sharp breath, looking at Jon, whole and alive and in front of him with nothing to tear them apart, at least not anytime soon. He's thinking of white starch sheets and hospital rooms and Jon's cold hands, moaning coffins and the smell of dirt, late nights in the office before the Unknowing and the surprising softness in Jon's eyes when they'd talk sometimes, the stunned hurt in Jon's eyes when Martin had to turn away from him in the halls or close the doors, or say no to running away, escaping with him. He's thinking of early mornings and warm comforters and cool sheets and tea, first thing, of holding Jon's hand under the covers, of going to bed together at night and turning out the light and not having to be alone. Neither of them being alone again. 

"Yes," Martin says, and this time, he doesn't bother to hold back the smile. Jon smiles, too, uncertain like he isn't sure how to do it. But it's as real as anything Martin's ever seen. "Yes, that's all right."

[intoanothermind]

Beauty Queen - Chapter 7

B E A U T Y   Q U E E N

Synopsis: You are the Ice Princess of Narnia during the Long Winter. Your sister Jadis, the White Witch, hates that you’re always helping Narnians escape prision. She decides to hunt you down and you have to run away from the palace. What happens when you find the four humans lost in Narnia?

- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Masterlist

<Chapter 6 | Chapter 8>

—-

C H A P T E R   S E V E N

“Run, Mother!” cried Mr. Beaver, rushing in the dike house, along with others.

“Oh, okay!” she exclaimed, going towards the cabinets.

“What is she doing?” asked Peter.

“You will thank me later.” she said, while getting some groceries. “It is a long journey and the Beaver is in a bad mood when he is hungry.”

“I already am!” He exclaimed.

“Are we going to need jam?” Susan asked, as she and Y/N helped Mrs. Beaver and straighten things out.

“Only if the Witch serves toast.” scoffed Peter.

They heard howls and barks surrounding the house and the wolves started to destroy the house.

“Quick, this way!” said Mr. Beaver, pulling Y/N to a side door.

He opened the door and threw a rope over there in the darkness. Peter arrived with torches and they could see a hole there. When they heard the closest howls, they jumped in there, with the help of the rope that the beaver threw there.

“The badger and I dug it.” said Mr. Beaver, while they ran through the tunnel to save their lives. “Come out near his lair.”

“You said it went out to your mom's house.” said Mrs. Beaver.

Lucia tripped over a protruding root and fell, but soon Susan helped. They heard a distant howl. It seemed to be an echo.

“They're in the tunnel.” he whispered to Lucy.

“Quick, this way!” cried the beaver.

“Quick!” echoed Mrs. Beaver.

“Run!” shouted Peter, as everyone ran panting.

They stopped at a place with no exit.

“I should have brought a map!” squeaked Mrs. Beaver.

“It was the map or the jam!” cried Mr. Beaver, turning to the wall and there climbing through a hole at the top, followed by Ms. Castor.

“Come on, come on, Susan!” cried Y/N, helping to pass through the hole and then going right after.

“Come on, Lucy!” Susan said, helping her out so Peter and the beavers could put a large and heavy barrel to cover the hole.

They turned and saw several small animals turned into stone. Mr. Castor approached one in particular, who had his front legs raised to protect himself. Mrs. Beaver went to help him.

The petrified animal was the badger, a friend of the beaver.

“I'm sorry, honey.” said Mrs. Beaver..

“My best friend...”

Everyone was watching the stone-shaped massacre. They didn't like the scene very much and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more when she imagined that this could be Edmund's destiny. She hadn't known him for a long time, but she knew he had become special to her.

“That's what happens to those who play with the Witch.” said a fox, who appeared at the top of one of the dens.

Peter quickly pulled Lucia behind him and the others took up defensive positions. Except Y/N. She knew the fox, the petrification spell had been undone by her - the one who was the final straw for Jadis to pursue.

“Take another step, traitor, and I will tear you apart!” said the beaver, threatening, but Mrs. Beaver quickly stopped him.

“Relax!” laughed the fox, descending from the top of the hole and approaching with graceful and predatory steps, proper to his species. “I'm one of the good guys.”

“Are you?!” asked ironically the beaver. “Because it looks more like one of the villains.”

“An unfortunate family resemblance.” he said the fox, disdainful. “We’ll talk about races later. Now we have to go.”

“We won’t trust you, fox!” said the beaver.

“We will and we must.” said Y/N, so authoritatively and with leadership, that the three humans no longer doubted that she was the Princess of Narnia. “I helped him out of Jadis’ spell, he’s trustworthy. What do you suggest, fox?”

“Your Highness.” The fox made a brief bow to her. “Go up that tree. This can help to mask your smell.”

Y/N nodded, thanking him, and ran with the others to a large tree. They heard the barking of wolves coming from inside the tunnel. They hurried up, and when they were up there, Y/N stared at the snow a few feet below her. She whispered a few words in an unknown language, and the snow stirred minimally there and below. Minimally, but visible to others.

“What was that?” asked Lucy.

“I turned the snow to take our trail farther.” I replied Y/N, the moment the wolves broke into the tunnels.

The wolves surrounded the fox.

“Greetings, cousins.” said the formally, but lowering the tail. “Did you lost anything?”

“Don't try to fool me!” scolded the wolf seemed to be the boss. “I know whose ally you are. We look for humans.”

“Humans?” the fox joked. “Here in Narnia? That’s a valuable information, don’t you think?”

A wolf advances on top of the fox, sticking its fangs into its neck. Lucy gasped, ready to go down and help her, but Y/N took her and covered her mouth, whispering.

“It wouldn't be good if they found us.”

When Lucy nodded, agreeing, Y/N uncovered her mouth, but she was still holding her firmly around her waist, afraid that the younger one would slip. She looked to the side and saw that the beaver was doing the same thing to his wife.

“Your reward is to live.” said the wolf commander, approaching the fox. “It’s not much...” laughed. “Still... Where are the fugitives?”

The fox sighed and Peter was afraid he would report them.

“North.” the fox sighed at last. “They fled to the North.” and lowered his head.

“Look for their scent.” Said the commander while the other wolf released the fox and everyone ran North. Y/N smiled when she realized that the spell had worked.

When they seemed far enough away that they wouldn't be seen from above, Y/N descended with Lucy, who quickly ran to the fox and helped her stand.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you.” he replied, a little breathless.

Soon the others went down.

“And what now?” Susan asked.

“We need to get some rest.” said Peter.

“We need to warm up, but how?” Susan asked, rubbing her arm them to ward off the cold.

Minutes later, Peter had already started a fire for them to warm up and they were all around her, eating some things brought by Mrs. Beaver.

“They were helping Tumnus.” said the fox, trying to make a dressing on his paw. “The Witch got here before me.”

The fox grunted when Mrs. Beaver touched a bruised neck.

“Are you okay?” asked Lucy.

“Dogs bark but they don’t bite.”

“Stop moving!” said Mrs. Beaver. “It's worse than Beaver on a bath’s day.”

“The worst day of the year.” joked Mr. Beaver.

“Thank you for your kindness,” said the fox, standing up. “It's a pity, but I don't have more time.”

“Will you depart?” Lucy and Y/N asked at the same time.

“It was a great pleasure, my queen and princess” said, bowing to the two “but time is short and Aslan himself sent me to gather some troops.”

“Did you see Aslan?” asked Mr. Beaver.

“How is he?” asked Mrs. Beaver.

“Well, as we always hear.” said the fox. “It will be a pleasure to have you in the battle against the Witch.”

“But we do not intend to fight the Witch.” Susan said.

“But surely King Peter...” said the fox, turning to look at the sad expression on the blonde's face. “The prophecy!”

“We won’t go to war without you.” said the beaver.

“But they do!” Y/N insisted. “The prophecy cannot be undone.”

“We just want our brother back.” Peter said sadly.