#i never thought i’d look up spider-man’s sports team

[ace-of-drakes]

question: would Annabeth Chase and Peter Parker have beef? how much spider is enough spider to be influenced by Arachne? if Peter saw Annabeth would his spidey senses just start blaring cause of her heritage or cause she’s wearing a yankees cap and he’s a mets fan

[raineydays411]

So warm and tender

Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

A/n: Hello! finally the last part of Ember. I hope you guys like it and sorry for making y’all wait so long for the confrontation lol)

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Y/n’s POV

“Aunt Pam?!” you say in shock as you stop struggling against the vine wrapped around your body.

“Y/n, is it really you?” your aunt said as the vine loosened its grip and gently lowered you on the ground. “ Where have you been? Everyone has been going crazy looking for you”

You don’t answer as you look at your aunt. You didn’t realise you missed her as much as you did but now all you want to do is throw yourself in her arms. So you did.Pam, sensing you needed comfort rather than an interrogation, wrapped her arms around you. “I missed so much my Petal.” 

With those five words, all the hurt and pain you bottled up came out. and you cried.

As you cried, your aunt looked at the girl she hasn’t seen in eight years, and wondered what she’s been going through and if she did the right thing by giving you to your father all those years ago.

“Petal, I think you need to explain what’s going on”

You look up and sniff, “ Yeah, i think an explanation is well in order.” and you tell her everything. From the years of being ignored by your father, your last argument, the two weeks you spent in captivity, and your new powers. 

“ And that’s when I found you.” You finish looking at the grim faces of Pam and the other woman, who now that you think about it looks really familiar. 

“Oh, you poor puddin’!” you found your face being squished between two ands and then you were comically pressed against a body in a tight hug. 

“Don’tcha worry bout a thing, me and Pammy will take care of everything, you just sit here and---”  This seems familiar...

“ Harley, I don’t think she can breathe.” “Oh right, now you remember, it the blonde woman who used to sneak into the apartment”. You think to yourself as you struggle to get loose from her grip. You hear someone snicker and see Danny looking at the commotion. 

“ Shut up Danny, where have you been?” You say, forgetting that you’re the only one who can see him. 

“Exploring, do you thing she could hug me like that too?” 

“ If you weren’t already dead, I’m sure they would kill you for that comment”

Pam and Harley look at each other in concern as it seems like you’re talking to yourself. 

“ Hey kid, if you’re gonna talk to yourself, try an’ do it when other people can’t see you, like me.”  The blonde says as if someone talking to themselves was a daily occurrence for her.  You explain that with your powers, you were basically dead and can speak and see other dead people. Hearing that, Pam’s expression darkened

“He let you die?” she said in a grim tone. All the vines and plants in the room started whipping around angrily as if they were looking for the person who wronged you. It was then when you realized it wasn’t your Auntie Pam who taught you how to plant petunias you were looking at, this was Poison Ivy. 

“ Men, you can never trust em’. Well, whadda say little flower, ya up for a little premeditated murder?” and that was the infamous Harley Quinn. 

“ It would’ve been nice to know that you’re related to scary criminals y/n....” Danny said in a fearful voice. And if you were being honest you just found out that your aunt Pam was also the Poison Ivy but to be fair you haven’t seen her since you were like eight. 

“I don’t want to kill him” you finally say. “ I don’t want anything to do with him. Nor his precious Spiderling.” The plants calm down as Ivy calmed down and was your aunt Pam again. “ What do you want to do?” she asks.

You think to yourself and say,” I want him to know how he made me feel, and then I want to stay with you.”  Your aunt and Harley froze when you said that. 

“Petal, there is nothing I want more than for you to stay with me again,” She started, “ But it isn’t safe for you to stay.” Your eyes started to water

“But I-I have powers now, I can defend myself! I won’t be any trouble, it’ll be like I’m not even here” At this point, anything was better than going back to being invisible. “Please...I don’t want to go back...” 

Hearing the desperation in your voice broke Pams, Harleys, and Danny's heart. Pam because this was the daughter of her closest friend. She vowed to protect you from anything the day you came to her after losing your mother. Seeing you like this just reminded her how she, in her mind, has failed you. Seeing you so desperate to get away from the man who broke your heart reminded Harley of herself. The nights she would sneak into the tiny apartment you shared with Pammy, in hopes of escape only to get drawn back with empty promises. So yeah, she had a small soft spot for you. And Danny, you were the only person who saw him after months of being invisible. He felt like he needed to help you in your mission to get your father regret ignoring you.

“Hey Pammy...maybe we should call him...” Harley started to suggest. 

“NO, I’d rather drink weed killer than go to that...orphan collector for help.” the red head spat. “ No. We’ll figure it out but she can stay here for now.”

Hearing that you had a place to call home now, gave you the motivation to go and confront your father. Not only for ignoring you, but for leaving you in that..cell for two weeks. He didn’t even attempt to look for you as far as you knew. You’d have thought at least one of the other Avengers would have came to save you. But no one came. After all those years, no one came.

“Y/n.. your eyes” Danny whispered, his cold hand touching your arm snapped you out of your mind. The neon glow of your eyes faded to your normal e/c. 

“ Aunt Pam, Harley is there any way you guys can get me to New York and back?” You ask, finally ready to confront your father. 

“ Well....” Harley say as with a smirk

~~~~~~~~~one terrifying ride on a stolen batplane later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving to New York you made Pam and Harley wait a few blocks away from the tower, as you really didn’t want the Avengers to find out your aunt was a wanted criminal. You “went ghost” as Danny like to call it and snuck into the Tower with ease. You then snuck into your room, seeing everything covered in a layer of dust as no one has been in there for over two weeks. You packed a bag and filled it with some clothes, books and a picture of you and your mother. You took that bag and walked to the door, looking around at the room that was both you prison and safe space. It was decorated with multiple trophies, medals, and ribbons all from the multiple sports and clubs you joined to impress your father. Not like that ever happened. Danny wander around looking at the multiple teams photos you had hung up.

“ You’re a volleyball girl?” he said, “ Huh. I’d never have had guessed.” 

You rolled your eyes as you finished packing. “ Hey I have a job for you.” you say turning to him. “ I need you to go to the control room and turn off the power for thirty minutes. Then turn it back on and come find me in the common room.”

“ Yes ma’am” Danny says, saluting and disappearing through the wall before he comes back. “Ummm, wheres the control room?” 

You roll your eyes and explain how to get to the control room and wait. When the lights go out and you’ll make your move. Your father would have to pass through the common room to get to the control room from his lab, which you assume he’ll be. There you’ll be waiting for him. 

The lights go out. It’s showtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony's POV

The team spent three more days searching for you. They followed every lead and half of the team even flew out to the building that collapsed an hour ago. Tony, Steve, and Natasha stood behind to look at more clues. It was a little past midnight, and both Steve and Natasha went to bed leaving Tony to tinker in his lab. Tony was making improvements to a certain spider suit as he thought about what his daughter said to him before she went missing.

“Sir, there seems to be someone in Y/--” FRIDAY started to say when the power cut out.

“FRIDAY??” Tony questioned as he walked out to check the control room, making sure to get his nano bracelet just incase. As he walked down the hallway he thought about waking up Steve and if he was brave enough to wake Natasha when he heard it.

“Hi daddy.”

Tony stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up in disbelief. The lights turned back on to reveal his daughter. Wearing a black halter top, spandex leggings, grey boots with elbow length gloves. She looked skinny, as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in the weeks she was gone. And for some reason the air was cold in the room. But there she stood.

‘Y/n” Tony said breathlessly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n pov

As you wait for Tony to walk in,you look around the common room and reminisce. You think about the time when you first moved in, and you got lost trying to find the bathroom and accidently walked into Natashas room. YOu thought she was going to kill you but ended up walking you to the restroom and back to your room. Or when you made the volleyball team way back in eighth grade, and you ran home to tell your dad but ended up telling the whole team, who were rarely all together, and they all took you out to get ice cream, minus Tony. You had to admit, even though your dad didn’t pay attention to you, Nat and Steve did. As well as the whole team, but those two really became the parental figures in your life. That’s why it hurt when not even they came for you. Even they had forgotten you.

“Hi daddy” you said in a mocking voice. Your father stopped dead in his tracks, as he looked you over in disbelief.

“Y/n”, he said in a breathless voice. 

“Oh, you remember my name?” You say in an sarcastic tone. “ Didn’t seem like you did when you left me in a hydra cell for two weeks.” 

Hearing that you were a prisoner of Hydra made Tony’s blood freeze. 

“Hydra? Oh Y/N are you okay? What did they do to you?” He asked frantically as he walk towards you with the intent of checking if you were injured. You jerk away from him, avoiding his touch and say

“ Oh, I’m wonderful. Just so fucking fantastic. I was just experimented on and injected with various liquids that caused excruciating pain. No big deal” 

“ Y/n..we spent days trying to look for you. Me and the team--”

“You and the team what Tony? I was there for two weeks. TWO WEEKS I WAS POKED AND PRODDED. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.” You scream, anger filling your heart as you remember the agony you went through. You think about the scratches on the wall of the cells, the taunts from the guards, and screams of the undead.

“ You have no idea what I went through. What I’m going through.” You say, feeling your body grow colder as you lose control and start to shift. “ You don’t care about me. If I were Parker, you would have saved mem within SECONDS.”

“That's not true. Y/N you have no idea how much I love you.” Tony tries to say. He’s filled with the need to tell you everything he didn’t tell you before. “I know I haven’t always been the best father. Trust me I know that now. But if you give me a chance, I want to make everything right. Please.” 

You didn’t think it would go like this. In fact you were not at all prepared for Tony to say this. You expected to walk in on him continuing his life as normal, tinkering in his lab and such. You had always yearned to hear him say those words to you. But now, they just fill you with anger.

“You think you could just tell me what I want to hear and what? I’ll just act like nothing happened?? I know you’re not that stupid.” You spit, the room growing colder as you get angrier. “ It’s too late for all that Tony. I’m not the same girl i was two weeks ago.i won;t take it any longer.” 

“Y/n..your eyes” Tony says as he slowly starts to put his gauntlet bracelet on, realising that you are becoming a threat. 

“ Oh do you like them?”, You ask “ This is what happened when they injected me. I can also do this.” You shift, shades of blue taking over brown skin. Tony stared at you in awe and a bit of fear. 

“ Y/n this isn’t you. I know you’re angry but--” “ Isn’t me?” You interrupt.” You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m like. And even if you did the old me died in that cell. Literally I died” You and Tony stared at each other. and that's when you heard the doors open. Two sets of footsteps started rushing to the commotion. 

“Y/N some red head and beefy blonde are on their way” You hear Danny say as you realize you had to wrap it up. If anyone can convince you to stay, it’s Steve and Nat.

“ It doesn’t matter anymore Tony.” you say as you start walking to the window. “ I can’t stay here anymore. There’s nothing for me. You win. Peter can be the child you always wanted cause from now on, consider me dead.” and with that, you phase threw the window and let yourself fall, knowing that you won’t actually fall as you can fly. 

Tony freaks out and calls for his suit, only to see a blue blur shoot up and across the sky. Then he just sits there and stares. The footsteps reach the common room and he hears someone ask 

“ Stark..what was all the yelling. What's going on?” 

“she's gone” He says, and that's when he truly realizes his mistake. He became what he never wanted to become. He became his father. And now you were gone.

Taglist: @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

[bigballofstress]

To Share an Armchair (Tom Holland x Actress!Reader)

Description:  You and Tom appear on Conan to promote your new movie together, Spider-Man: Homecoming.  Little do you know, Tom has a bit more planned than your usual run-of-the-mill interview.

Prequel to The Interview

I took a deep, nervous breath, my hands wringing together as I looked out into the absolutely packed audience.

“You’ll be fine,” a warm, comforting presence appeared behind me.  I turned quickly to see my best friend, Tom, smiling down at me.  “They love you, and you love them.”

I smiled a bit.  He always seemed to know just what to say to make me feel better.

Tom and I had been working together since the filming of Captain America: Civil War, where I’d played another of Tony’s young recruits.  Now, with the new Spider-Man movie coming out, we were sent to advertise the release.  So, there we stood, on the set of Conan, ready give yet another interview.  Except, this time, we’d be promoting the movie by ourselves.  “I’m just not very used to going out there without an older cast member or producer or something,” I sighed.

“Just be your usual funny, witty, charming self, and I promise you that everything will turn out well,” Tom reassured me.

I nodded firmly in an effort to strengthen my resolve.  “Thanks, Tom.”

“Anytime, sweetcheeks,” he grinned.  I rolled my eyes playfully at the cheesy nickname that he had taken to calling me ever since our second week of filming, claiming that my ‘cheeks were too sweet to be called anything else.’

“And now, please welcome Tom Holland and (Y/N) (L/N) to the stage!” Conan shouted.  Tom walked out, and I quickly followed.  The lights were practically blinding, and my ears were ringing from the very, very loud cheers.  I shook off my fears and muscled my way past the almost overwhelming scene to grin and wave with both hands to the audience before moving to take my seat.

The only armchair available was already occupied by a certain web slinger.  I pouted and crossed my arms.  “I was going to sit there!”

“Well, I’m already here.  Sorry, sweetcheeks,” Tom smirked up at me, settling further into the very comfortable looking chair.

I frowned.  “Aw, c’mon, Tommy!  Pleeeease?” I tilted my chin down and sent him my best puppy dogs.

Tom shook his head.  “Hey, you can sit anywhere you want, but I’m not moving.”

My lips immediately quirked upwards.  “Ok!” I quickly responded before plopping myself down sideways across Tom’s lap with my legs hanging over the other armrest.  His hands reflexively went to my waist in an effort to stabilize me.  Tom stared at me in shock, and I just grinned back triumphantly.

I turned to look at Conan, who was watching the whole ordeal go down with an amused smile.  “Hi, Conan,” I grinned.

The tall man chuckled.  “Hi, (Y/N).”

I had to flip my head upside down to look at Andy, as the armrest that my back was leaning against was the one facing him.  “Nothing personal, I just really wanted the chair.”

Andy scoffed in fake hurt.  “Yeah, sure.  Just pretend you’re not repulsed by me.”

“Well, I am a pretty good actress,” I shrugged, pretending to think it over.

Conan barked out a laugh, and I grinned, straightening back up and settling further into Tom’s lap.  “So I guess (ship name) is real?” Conan chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

My face went bright red, and I scoffed.  “Yeah, just about as real as Candy,” I bit back in an attempt to misdirect from my extreme embarrassment.

Conan laughed his big belly laugh again.  “No, (Y/N)’s just unbelievably stubborn is all,” Tom added with a slight shake of his head.

“I’ve heard a few rumors, though, about the two of you,” Conan continued.  “A lot of people are talking about a recent incident involving gymnastics?”

I groaned and hid my face in Tom’s chest.  “Yeah, she was just so graceful,” Tom chuckled.

I hit his arm with a pout.  “Oh, shut up.  It really hurt, ok?”

Tom grinned and turned to Conan.  “You see, we’ve had a wager going on for quite a while over who was the better actor.  So, when we got off set early one day, we decided to prove it once and for all.  We each invented a character for the other to play.  I was supposed to be a foul-tempered, incredibly avid fan of some sort of predatory bird--”

“The eagles, Tom,” I rolled my eyes.  “You were playing a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles.  Anyways, Tommy here had decided to make me a world class gymnast.  You know, because I’m so experienced.”

“Whoever was revealed to be lying about their identity first would lose the bet,” Tom continued.  “And he or she would have to do one thing the other asked, no matter what it was.”

“It didn’t go very well,” I sighed, cringing slightly at the memory.  “And I still maintain that I won, by the way!”

Tom shook his head.  “Not a chance, sweetcheeks.  You see, we were talking to a wonderful young lady on the street when I noticed (Y/N) getting a bit excited.  Turns out, she’d noticed a Philadelphia sticker on the woman’s bag.  So she started raving about how much I loved the Eagles and all of the Philadelphia teams.  Naturally, I began talking of her supposed experience in gymnastics.  The woman was rather impressed and asked if she could see her do a flip.”

“Meanwhile, I can’t do any sort of gymnastics to save my life,” I scoffed.  “So instead of flipping, I asked Tom what sport the Eagles play.”  The audience laughed a bit.  “He couldn’t respond, and voila!  I win!”

“Not quite,” Tom chuckled.  “That woman didn’t say a word until you tried to do a flip and landed directly on your bum.  She caught you first, pointing out that you weren’t a gymnast.  Only afterwards did she say I had no idea where Philadelphia even was.”

I frowned.  “Yeah, but she knew you were faking it first.”

“Those weren’t the rules, sweetcheeks,” Tom grinned.  I rolled my eyes.

I’d barely taken notice of the loud laughter until Conan spoke up again between chuckles.  “Here’s a clip from the new Spider-Man: Homecoming in theaters July 7, check it out!”

While the clip played, Tom grinned and poked me in the side.  “You know, I still get to ask you that favor.”

“Fine, I concede.  What do you want, Holland?” I rolled my eyes again.

“You’ll see in just a moment,” he answered, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I snorted softly in an attempt not to laugh over the preview being played.  “What the heck was that?”

“I was being mysterious!” He defended.

“You looked like you’d lost all control over your facial muscles,” I smirked.

Tom frowned, but before he could reply, the lights came back on.  So instead, he turned to look at our host.  “Conan, before we go, can I ask a favor?”

Conan nodded.  Tom gently picked me up while he stood, placing me back in the seat.  He walked towards the edge of the stage.  I leaned over to Andy.  “Do you have any idea what’s going on?” I stage whispered.

“Yeah, but I’m not telling you.  You didn’t want to sit next to me,” Andy responded with a humph, crossing his arms.  I laughed at his antics.

Tom had returned by that point.  In his arms was the most adorable little creature I’d ever seen in my entire life.  “This is Firestar,” he said, holding up the absolutely precious chocolate lab puppy.  “She’s incredibly stubborn, so I thought you two might get along.”

“Tom, I can’t believe you!” I squealed, accepting the puppy without hesitation.  She immediately started trying to lick my face.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to call in that favor you owe me.”  I glanced up at him suspiciously.  Tom just smiled.  “Go with me to the premier?  As my date?” Tom stood before me nervously, his cheeks bright red, while he anticipated my answer.

My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat.  I couldn’t believe he’d actually just asked me out.  Of course I had fantasized about this, but I never actually thought it would happen.

“Say yes!” I random shout from somewhere in the crowd startled me out of my trance.

My face broke out into a huge grin, and I nodded quickly.  “Of course I’ll go with you, you big dummy!” I said, hiding my immense excitement behind the small joke.

Tom’s nervousness melted into happiness, and he rushed forward to hug me, taking care not to crush the puppy between us.

“Tom Holland and (Y/N) (L/N), everybody!” Conan shouted above the cheers.  “Now officially (ship name)!” The cheers and screams got even louder, and I laughed, almost having to cover my ears.  We were both soon ushered off the stage to make way for whoever was next to appear on the show.

When we finally had a minute to breath, I turned to Tom.  “I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” I laughed.  My smiled was still plastered to my face, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Everyone gets flowers,” Tom shrugged.  I laughed and shook my head.  “So there is one other thing I need to know before we can go on a date.”

My brow furrowed slightly, and my smile wavered.  “What is it?” I asked warily.

“What color is your dress?  I have to know what I’m matching my tie to.”

I pursed my lips in pretend anger, despite the smile that still managed to peak through.  “You jerk, you really had my scared!” I hit his arm.

“Ow!” Tom complained.  He grabbed my hand as it was gearing up to hit him again and pulled me into another hug, still softly chuckling my hair.  I grinned and cradled my new puppy to my chest, who’d already fallen asleep after all the excitement.  I was going to go on a date with Tom Holland.  Maybe I’ll even get to be his girlfriend!

[dontcare77ghj]

All In

Bucky x reader x Steve x Sam

Notes: Bucky did not kill Tony’s parents. Civil War did not happen.

Steve had met Bucky in the forties. The two knew they were soul mates when Steve broke his arm and Bucky was suddenly sporting the same injury. Of course, they had to keep it a secret. Soul mates or not for the time their relationship was incredibly taboo.

Sam and Y/N met in 2010 after a friend had introduced them. They knew they were soul mates when Sam slashed his arm when attempting to assemble his wings and Y/N got a matching cut. In 2010 they had nothing to hide.

In 2014 you and Sam were on a run when you tripped over an uneven part of concrete. You weren’t injured apart from some skinned knees which Sam hissed about.

“You just had to trip.” He sighed, helping you up.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could be sympathetic to the uncoordinated.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” A blonde man said, jogging over to the two of you, his knees freshly skinned.

If you and Sam were shocked at having another soul mate, you both damn near passed out when you learned of Steve’s first soul mate. You’d only heard stories of multiple people sharing soul mates, but you never thought they were real, until that day.

It was another year before Steve was reunited with Bucky and you and Sam finally got to meet your fourth.

2015

“What’s taking Steve so long?” You wondered aloud, watching Sam move around the kitchen.

“He has a meeting with Fury and Natasha.” Sam reminded you. “And then he is going to pick up dessert.”

“Hopefully it’s something caramel filled.” You groaned, leaning back on the couch before letting out a yelp. “Jesus, Sam.” You said, applying pressure to your bleeding hand.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” He said, applying pressure to his own hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You said, moving into the kitchen and grabbing the first aid kit. “Steve’s going to give you a lecture on being more careful now.”

“I thought that lecture was just for you, you klutz.” He chuckled before hissing as you pressed down on his wound. “I mean I love you and you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” You smirked and finished bandaging his hand.

“Which one of you did it?” Steve yelled as he entered the house.

“Bird brain did it.” You responded as Sam wrapped your hand. “Come to the kitchen and I’ll fix you up.”

“Can you fix someone else up as well?” Steve questioned as he entered the kitchen with a long-haired brunette beside him. A brunette with a bleeding hand.

“Of course.” You smiled. “Nice to finally meet you, Bucky.”

2024

Non-reader POV

“Hey, are you still coming with me today?” Natasha asked, entering Tony’s kitchen behind Pepper.

“Aunty Nat!” Morgan exclaimed, rushing over to the red head. “I missed you.” She said once she was in Natasha’s arms.

“I missed you too, kolibri.” Natasha said, pressing her lips to the girl’s temple. “So, are you coming?” She repeated, turning to the man.

“Don’t hit me when I ask this, but, where are we going?” Tony asked, pouring his wife a cup of coffee.

“We planned to go see Y/N and the boys today.” Natasha reminded him. “If you’ve scheduled other things, you don’t have to worry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I got nothing better to do than see my favorite foursome.” He said. “Do you need me to take Morgan?” He asked his soul mate.

“No, I’ll be fine. Say hi to them for me.” Pepper smiled, taking the young girl out of Natasha’s arms. “Say good bye to Daddy and Aunty Nat.”

“Bye.” Morgan waved.

“How’s everyone settling in at the compound?” Tony asked Natasha as she drove them.

“Pretty well. Bruce and Wanda are working on bringing Vision back and Thor finally worked out a way to contact us.” She said.

“How’s Clint and his family?”

“They’re doing well, they’re all adjusting as well as can be expected but I spoke to Clint last night and he’s just happy to be home. How’s Rhodes?”

“He’s doing pretty great, he finally got Ross off everyone’s ass, so he’s going on vacation.”

“Vacation sounds nice.” Natasha commented with a wistful sigh.

“You know you can go on vacation, right Nat?” Tony asked her. “You’ve done enough Romanoff; you deserve a break.”

“Maybe. Maybe I like being needed.” She smiled. “I remember you having this conversation with them, before it all.”

“Yeah and look at them now, those lucky bitches are retired.”

2017

Tony had thrown another one of his famous parties. The night had been loud and full of drunken people, people no-one really knew. Once the hours became earlier Tony had kicked everyone out except the team.

It was currently three a.m. and everyone was quite intoxicated as they all lounged in various positions.

Y/N was sitting on Bucky’s lap who smiled at her as she fiddled with his hair and Steve had his head on Sam’s shoulder as he laughed at Clint’s story.

“You’re a bigger idiot sometimes than Steve.” Bucky smirked.

“That’s uncalled for, you jerk.” Steve said. Steve had indulged in some of Thor’s mead and everyone had noticed he was acting different, more laid back, more relaxed.

“You love me.” Bucky smiled.

“Not anymore. Only Y/N and Sam get my love.” He said, snuggling into Sam’s side.

“Oh, you’re wasted aren’t you, Stevie?” Sam smiled, playing with the ends of the blonde’s hair.

“Well, I love you Buck.” Y/N said loudly, her own intoxication levels quite high. “Doesn’t matter if Steve doesn’t give you his love, you got mine.” She said, peppering the brunettes face with kisses.

“No, she’s wasted.” Tony laughed. After Steve had introduced Y/N and Sam to the team, Tony had become quick friends with the women and he always found it amusing to watch the women drink.

“You’re drunk more than I have.” The woman slurred, pressing her face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“The difference baby girl, is that this is like water to him.” Sam chuckled. Tony flipped the bird at the man in response.

“Let’s just agree that everyone’s drunk, except Bruce and spider boy, and leave it at that.” Natasha said, shaking her head. “I need a vacation.”

“Hm, a vacation sounds nice.” Bucky hummed, tangling his fingers in Y/N’s hair. “Don’t feel like I’ve had one of those in a century.”

“We could go to the beach, lay water side all day. I could get behind that.” Sam nodded.

“Why don’t you go then?” Tony asked. “Take that vacation, take longer than a vacation. The four of you have done plenty.”

“One day, Tony. We’ll go one day.” Steve said after exchanging looks with each of his soul mates.

2024

“When did you raid a florist?” Tony asked, looking at the back seat which was teaming with different flower arrangements. “Seriously, how did I not notice this before?”

“Because you’re blind. It’s your age.” Natasha smirked.

“Rude. No one else would treat me like this.” He grumbled.

“Yes they would.” She grinned. “Alright let’s do this.” Natasha said as they pulled up.

“Do you need a minute?” Tony asked her.

“Do you?” She fired back with no real fire.

“No I came here with Pepper a couple weeks ago, I got it all out then.” He explained, staring out the front window. “It felt good.”

“I shouldn’t even be here, Tony.” She murmured. “I died on that rock, I accepted it. I shouldn’t be here.”

“We all were rocked by the snap, Nat. Things have happened, things we can’t change.” Tony said. “I’ve been through this before, this feeling of only being alive for a purpose and it’s not real. Steve’s been through, Y/N, Bucky, Sam, me, it happens. And all of us will tell you, you’re alive for you and you only. There is no other reason.”

“You’re right.”

“I wish I were recording that; no-one’ll ever believe me when I say you admitted I was right.” Tony said.

“Shut up.” Natasha laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm. “Alright, let’s actually do this.” She said, unbuckling her seat belt.

2022

Reader POV

“We got really lucky.” You said, running your fingers through Steve’s hair. “And I know you feel guilty about that but this is not a punishment.”

“That’s not what I think at all.” Steve said, looking up at you. “It’s just when I talk to these people and they’re all distraught because they’ve lost families and soul mates, all I can think to myself is; ‘Thank God that’s not me.’ I can’t help but feel guilty.”

“It’s normal to think these kinds of things, to be grateful nothing has happened.” Sam told him, sitting on the bed next to you both. “Everyone in this room has suffered more than we ever should have and we deserve something good.” He said as Bucky sat next to him.

“Steve, you are one of the best men I know. You have worked your ass off to save this country, this world, hell this universe. While not everything you’ve done has turned out the way you wanted, you have saved so many people. You are allowed to feel guilty for those you couldn’t, but you are also allowed to feel grateful for having survived.” Bucky told him.

“I just wish I could do more.” Steve sighed.

“And that’s why we love you.” Sam said, laying down so he was spooning Steve. “Because you are so selfless.”

“Even if it borders on stupidity most of the time.” Bucky added, situating himself behind Sam.

“You always do the right thing, Stevie. We trust you.” You smiled, still playing with his hair.

“I love you three.” Steve murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

“We love you too, Stevie.” You said.

“Till the end of the line, we’re all in.”

2023

“We’re losing, again.” You said, shooting another of Thanos’s men.

In the span of an hour, you’d managed to travel back in time, lost one of your own, gain all the stones and snap everyone back to life. But Thanos had attacked, the building had blown and now you were losing.

Everyone was pinned down or injured in some way, you wondered if you would survive this.

“We’re not going to lose. We’ve fought too hard for this.” Sam grunted.

“Sam you and Steve are too optimistic for your own good.” Bucky chuckled humorlessly.

“Carol’s down.” Steve reported. “Thor’s down.” He added before getting knocked down. You were the only one in the area and while Tony attacked and distracted him you snatched the glove.

“I’ve got the glove.” You said into the coms. “Oh, shit I’ve got the glove.”

“What do we do?” Sam asked as he and Bucky joined your side, Steve struggling over to the three of you.

“I’ve only got one plan, and it doesn’t end well for us.” Steve said, standing beside you all.

“We don’t have any other options so share with the class.” Bucky said, shooting those who were racing towards the four of you.

“Put the glove on, Y/N.” Steve told you, throwing the hammer. “Put the glove on and snap.” 

“That’ll kill you three, not just me.” You shook your head. “Think this through Steve.”

“We don’t have another choice.” He told you.

“We’ve done enough. We might make it through this but if we don’t. We’ve done enough.” Sam said.

“It’s your choice, kitten.” Bucky told you. “Whatever you decide we’re all in.”

A loud yell directed your attention back to Thanos. The man had thrown Tony away from him and was staring at the four of you.

“You can’t stop me. I am inevitable.” He yelled before, running towards you. Without another thought you shoved the glove onto your hand. A small cry left your lips as the power coursed through you and your knees buckled.

Sam held onto you as you smirked at the titan.

“And we’re the avengers.” You said before raising your hand high and snapping. All around you people began to disintegrate and you managed to stand long enough to see the purple titan turn to dust before you fell to the ground, all three of your boys around you.

All four of you were touching each other in some way as the team rushed over.

Tilting your head upwards, a small smile twitching the corners of your lips, you used the last of your strength to say;

“I love you. I love all three of you.”

Their murmured responses were the last thing you heard before the world went black.

2 days later

Non-reader POV

After the joint funerals of Steve Rogers, Y/N L/N, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff, everyone had gone back to Tony’s house. It was there Bruce had volunteered to return the stones.

“Are you ready, big green?” Tony asked, with Peter beside him. The rest of the Avengers and their families nearby.

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied.

“3, 2, 1.” Tony said before sending Bruce back in time. “And returning in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” He said but Bruce did not reappear.

“Where is he, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked as the billionaire fiddled with the machines.

“I don’t know kid.” Tony replied.

“Tony.” Clint spoke up. “There.” He said, pointing to the lake. Everyone looked to the lake to see Bruce walking back towards them, with a woman beside him.

“The guardian said, four souls were sacrificed and that mine was no longer needed.” Natasha said before any of the stunned people could speak. “He said, they wish us the best for our futures.”

2024

Natasha and Tony stood in front the four gravestones of their family. The flowers Natasha brought covered the surrounding area and provided color that the four would have loved.

Neither said anything as they stood there, Tony’s arm around Natasha’s shoulders and her head resting on his shoulder.

“I wish they could know we’re doing alright.” Natasha murmured after an eternity.

“They know.” Tony assured her. “They all know.” He added, staring at the plaque that laid in front of all their graves.

Bucky Barnes, Y/N L/N, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, soul mates. Friends. Family. Heroes.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @hopingforbarnes @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @jelly-fishy-babie @smilexcaptainx @starlingelliot @reann-loves-sebstan

Coming soon

Dean x reader x Cas

Tony x reader x Bruce

Natasha x reader x Wanda

Meg x reader x Cas

Wanda x reader x Vision

[milstrim]

There is Good in the Dark

Chapter 4--The Avengers

There was an elegant sling! as a red, white, and blue shield sped through the air, bouncing off of two oncoming robots that deflated at the touch, crashing to the ground neatly. Steve caught the shield as it rounded back, slipping it from arm to arm effortlessly as he twisted in air, hitting one robot with it before slinging at an approaching robot behind him. They both crashed to the ground as well, the shield zipping back once more to his arm, leaving the soldier alone in the ruined room.

There was a less-than-enthusiastic clap. Steve turned, a small smile paired with raised eyebrows as the screen of the training room lifted, revealing his team. It was Tony who was clapping--obviously--his boyfriend (Sorta, maybe, had been. A lot had happened, and right now the two were--well, a rough patch wouldn't begin to describe it) sporting a teasing and mocking smirk. Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly, trotting over casually as the training robots he'd knocked down lit back up and lifted, resetting to the starting position.

"Wow, three seconds worse than last time. Looks like someone's getting old," Tony joked.

"I thought I'd take it easy today, Tony," he said, shifting the shield off of his shoulder and placing it against the wall.

"Yeah, taking it super easy, Cap," Sam said with a teasing smile and a roll of his eyes. "You really like to make us look bad, huh?"

Steve chuckled, "I live for it."

"Enough flirting, you'll make Tony jealous," Nat said, a teasing smile glanced their way. Tony rolled his eyes, shifting his shoulders to give Nat the most exasperated look the man could muster. She, of course, ignored him, instead turning to Sam. "Your turn, bird brain."

"Wow, so nice today, Nat." With a playful grumble, Sam stepped into the confines of the training room with what must be the tenth new prototype of his wings. Tony had been preparing a lot of new technology over the past few months, on a constant and worrying grind. Don't get him wrong, Steve and the rest of the team appreciated the extra materials and the ability to build back trust by practicing with them, but he knew that the billionaire only got like this when he was on the edge of losing it. And it wasn't much of a secret as to why.

Peter Parker had been in Tony Stark's life for nearly a year, but he had become a fundamental part of the Avengers barely five months ago. It had all started on a bright sunny day in Queens, or, if you really went back, it all started on a warm summer day in Germany. That's when Spider-Man had first been introduced to the splintered team after all. Looking back, definitely not the greatest first impression, but Steve honestly counted it better than his second nearly half a year later.

So, the warm summer day in Germany. It had been at an airport with a heavily successful escape on a stolen Quinjet. Steve and Bucky had escaped, leaving the remnants of his team--a stranded colonel, a fallen giant, a betrayer, and an inconceivably hurt boyfriend--behind on the tarmac. They'd gone to take care of the rest of the Winter Soldiers in Siberia and had instead met a broken man, a tape recording, and even more broken relationship.

Steve regretted nothing and everything he did that day. He didn't regret saving Bucky in the slightest. That was his best friend, lost and accused and hurt and searching for a peaceful answer. He regretted everything he did to Tony along the way. That was the man he'd loved for almost three years, beaten and bruised and betrayed on the cold floor of a Russian storm.

But Steve had still left, still sent that letter with an apology that would never express in words his regret and fear at what he'd done--the secret he'd kept--and still broken his team out of the Raft. The cameras had all strangely been deactivated and the alarms strangely silent. After a few moments of consideration, it really hadn't been that strange at all. It was the small shred of hope that had stuck with him.

The next important day, the sunny one in Queens, had happened seven months later. The Rogue Avengers had been pardoned for two weeks and had only been at the tower that had been sold and then bought back in three months--when that had reached the news it had made Steve's lips curl in amusement at Tony's impulsiveness--for five days when it happened.

By that point, they'd only heard about the spider-kid from Germany once in defensive passing from Tony. The conversation had been shut down pretty quickly at the vigilante's inclusion and what he was currently doing, with only a curt response from the billionaire explaining that he was training the kid and that he was 'Taking care of it fine by myself, thank you very much.' Steve had been too nervous to push anymore on the subject, walking on eggshells around the man he'd loved and yet still hurt so badly. He wished he'd pushed harder, at least to have the barest of explanations for that January day.

Tony had tentatively joined them for breakfast that day, pushed to converse by Rhodey who'd more or less been very calm and easy with all of them. Steve should have honestly expected that from the easygoing colonel, who'd been nothing but gracious and friendly towards them, if a little more distant than usual. So Tony had sat down for breakfast, sipping at a dark coffee and every once in a while taking a bite from his omelet.

The tension had been palpable, few words being shared for minutes on end. Finally, Steve had decided to bite the bullet. He'd cleared his throat softly, setting down his cup of orange juice that he'd only managed to swallow from once. Tony had glanced up at him, feigned indifference painted on his face. At least, Steve had hoped it was feigned.

"Tony, I wanted to be the first to reach out, to try and make amends. I'm sorry about--"

"You're the first to reach out?" Tony had snapped immediately, cutting off the rest of Steve's carefully planned but clearly not planned enough apology. The team had tensed, eyes glancing defensively as the billionaire gestured around the room in a great arc, though Rhodey had tried to stifle his broad actions. "I'm sorry? What do you think all of this is? All those meetings and bribes and stupid PR projects to try and get you in good graces? And you're--"

"Tony," Rhodey had warned, not that it had really stopped the man.

"No, I wanna hear this. Please, give me your apology that is so great and is obviously much better than--"

Tony's phone had rung. His words had petered out at the ringtone set to Sweet Child of Mine, turning away from the somber and petrified Steve to fish his phone out of his pocket, shooting up from the table. Despite the hostility palpable in the room, and all the eyes glued to the retreating billionaire, Tony's posture had loosened almost immediately at the ringtone, and though he'd turned away from Steve to press the phone to his ear, he swore he'd seen a small smile drape itself on Tony's face.

The engineer had answered the phone with a quiet, "Hey, young buck, what's up?"

Steve's hearing was good, but as good as it was, the only thing he had been able to catch on the other end was a shocked and broken up, "Mr. Stark! This is...Cheryl Brooks from...Queens Hospital Center...Parker at the moment--"

The captain had opened his mouth to ask what was important about someone named Parker at a hospital in Queens, but Tony had darted before he even had the chance. Steve hadn't seen the man for nearly another week.

Peter Parker had been introduced two weeks later. Steve couldn't say that he'd made the best first--technically second--impression, and it was still biting him in the ass even now.

"Tell me how the pigeon did later. I'm gonna go take a shower. Me and Pepper have a girls' day planned," Nat excused, dragging Steve from his thoughts and giving him a pointed look. Steve subtly shook his head, but the spy ignored him and slipped out the door, waving goodbye to the two of them.

"So," Tony said. He dared a snatch of a glance at the billionaire that was leaning on the overlooking rail as Sam started his session. Despite the persisting bitterness between the two, he couldn't help but blush as he looked over the man in his black, skin-tight training suit. "Any luck with Peter?"

Steve blinked. Tony was friendly today. He would take it.

He shrugged. "I tried talking to him again yesterday after he got back from school. He's still not super excited about me."

"It's probably all the detention he gets himself into. He'll warm up to you eventually."

"It's been five months."

"To be fair, you were a bit of an asshole when you met him," Tony excused. Steve nodded, but then he squinted and shook his head, crossing his arms.

"I don't think that's it, Tony," he muttered, excusing himself from acknowledging Tony's look by staring at Sam taking down the robots. "Him and Sam didn't get along at first either, and now they're completely fine. I think he just doesn't like me."

Tony huffed. "Please, the kid likes everybody. He's been going through a rough patch, his aunt did die not too long ago."

Steve wanted to argue more--about how Peter always stiffened around him, about how he walked around Steve in great arcs, about how the kid all but refused to be alone with him, and about how he always made a point to stand just a little too defensively between him and Tony if all three were in the room--but he bit his tongue. Tony was smart enough to have noticed it by now (he was pretty sure, anyway), and if he was choosing not to talk about it, then he wasn't ready, or Peter wasn't ready. So he just shrugged and nodded as amiably as he could, waiting and wishing his face would stop flushing.

    Peter stirred at the knock on his door, swirling from where he'd been reading a book for school in his rolley chair. Well, staring at the same line over and over again and hoping that it would register. So far it had been fifteen minutes and still nothing but glossy eyes and mushy thoughts.

The teenager identified the person outside--obviously Mr. Stark, his heart pittering quickly in an attempt to keep up with the man--before murmuring, his voice low and tired, "Come in."

Mr. Stark entered his room, his hair wet and the collar of an old and frayed Guns N' Roses shirt he was wearing stained with the remnants of his obviously recent shower. He must have had some Avengers training today. Mr. Rogers always called it 'team bonding,' and it was all he could do to not roll his eyes at the ridiculous hypocrisy of it. He was the one that had abandoned Mr. Stark, not the other way around.

"Hey, kiddo," Mr. Stark greeted, leaning on the door frame. "Whatcha up to?"

He gestured at the book with a tired shrug. "Um, just reading for school, so..."

"Yeah? What do they have you reading? More Shakespeare?"

"No, uh, The Crucible. It's more boring though."

"Yikes," Mr. Stark sympathized. "Wanna take a break?"

"For what?"

"Lunch. Down in the common room."

Peter glanced at the door skittishly, already dreading what that meal would be like.

Mr. Rogers was an enigma to Peter Parker. On one hand, well, he was Steve Rogers. The man spouted by school and museums and government propaganda as the epitome of goodwill and the American ideal and everything to look up to. And Peter did look up to him--or had, really--with starry eyes filled with the amazing tales of adventure and the bright colors on his lunchbox in third grade (and then Mr. Stark had revealed himself as Iron Man, soon the red and blue had turned to red and gold). It was practically ingrained into him at this point to worship the very ground the man walked on, and it was overwhelmingly confusing to puzzle out because the teenager just didn't trust him.

Part of Peter felt he was being a little judgmental and slightly unfair. Mr. Rogers had never really done anything to him. The man had always been pleasant and amiable, offering extra helpings of food whenever he was dragged to eat meals with the Avengers, asking genuinely interested questions about school and his studies, and once even offering to help train him. All in all, Mr. Rogers was accommodating and, despite their rocky start, nice.

And yet Peter hated being anywhere near him.

Well, hate was a strong word, maybe 'defensive' was a little better. Nervous? The teenager didn't know. All he knew was that he didn't like being in the same room with the century-old man. Peter had seen the videos from Siberia--barely a month after he'd spent his first month at the tower, accidentaly-sorta-on-purpose-maybe-he-definitely-hacked-into-Mr. Stark's-stuff--and it had taken all his self control to not rush to Mr. Stark immediately. Somehow, he'd managed to keep to himself, to pretend like everything was fine when Mr. Stark got back and when he'd left, refusing to show any terror or confusion or how he felt in complete shambles about the panic he felt over his mentor being hurt like that. By Captain America, the leader of the Avengers, and who Mr. Stark had been dating. Had trusted.

He'd kept it together that day and he kept it together even now--though the nightmares he had about a shield and a flickering arc reactor were persistent--despite his weirdly protective urge to create his own shield between his guardian and the pardoned rogue. But though he felt like he'd managed to keep his distrust mostly under wraps and as carefully controlled as it could be, Peter still didn't know how to move on, or, better yet, how to protect Mr. Stark. That was all he wanted. For Mr. Stark to be safe.

And, by the amount of times he'd accompanied the mechanic to a team meal that he didn't want to be anywhere near, he wanted him to be happy as well. He always bore just a slightly bigger smile when Peter agreed to any kind of 'team' thing, so the teenager grinned and bore it. For Mr. Stark.

"You feeling okay, kid?" Mr. Stark asked, breaking Peter from his thoughts as he stepped forward and placed the back of his hand against his forehead. The action was so familiar he had to bite down tears. If Mr. Stark noticed, he didn't say anything, just tutted and withdrew his hand. "No fever. You ate this morning, right?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Stark."

"And you slept okay last night?"

"Yep. I'm just sick of this book." Mr. Stark squinted at him in suspicion before clearly giving it up. "So, lunch?"

"Yep, c'mon. Capsicle and Big Bird are cooking."

Peter trodded after Mr. Stark, leaving his book behind disdainfully. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their nervous shake as he followed his mentor into the elevator and then onto the Avengers common floor. Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rogers were the only ones there at the moment. He wondered briefly where everyone else was before shrugging it off. A lot of the time people stuck to their own rooms (or labs) or liked to explore the city.

The two soldiers looked up with cheery greetings as Peter and his guardian stepped into the kitchen where a pile of scrambled eggs were being cooked in a rather large pan. He guessed a second pan would have to be cooked to feed both Mr. Rogers after a workout and him.

Peter ignored Steve's greeting smile, instead nodding at Mr. Wilson in hello. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark exchange a look. Peter didn't even notice how he stepped closer to Mr. Stark.

"Hey, Mr. Wilson," Peter said. The man rolled his eyes, pointing the spatula in his hand at the teenager in a mock threatening posture.

"Sam. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Good luck," Mr. Stark griped. "It's been a year. He lives with me and I'm still 'Mr. Stark.'"

"That's your name, Mr. Stark," Peter chirped. There were chuckles all around, followed by a slightly awkward silence. Mr. Stark practically ignored it as if there wasn't a lingering tension in the room that Peter couldn't explain. All he knew was that when Mr. Stark moved closer to Steve to grab a plateful of eggs and hashbrowns, Peter moved with him, keeping just a little too close. Not that the teenager was aware of his actions. His knowing was nothing more than protection.

Breakfast went by a little longer than Peter would've liked, but really more than ten minutes was about 100% longer than he liked it. Still, Mr. Stark seemed insistent to stay and make small talk, discussing training and Avengers stuff and every once in a while dragging Peter into the conversation about school, so the teenager stayed. He didn't know quite why, but he felt tugged to stay by Mr. Stark.

Logically, Peter knew that Steve wouldn't hurt Mr. Stark, not while he was in the tower--not that he even could with all the defensive and protective measures in place--but his fingers trembled whenever the thought occurred and refused to stop. It left him in a rather tedious conversation for the better part of half an hour before Mr. Stark finally got up to clear his plate, snipping a goodbye to Sam and bidding a softer one to Steve. There was something softer there. It made his eyes narrow defensively.

Swallowing back apprehension, Peter smiled at the two Avengers and stepped back in the elevator with Mr. Stark. The moment the doors closed, it was tense, palpable with what he identified as clear disappointment. Maybe. Mr. Stark was never really mad at him, but glancing at the billionaire from the corner of his eye only revealed the tense posture packed in the coils of his shoulders. It made Peter tense too, his jaw clenching and his hands deep in his hoodie shaking.

The doors opened and Mr. Stark spoke.

"Kid, I think we need to talk."

    When Clint came to, it was surprisingly sunny, inappropriately so for how everything had been the past few weeks. The man winced at the thought, taking in everything he could as he glanced around. His body felt as broken as ever, fresh slashed skin and wounds clearly shown through the tattered fabric of a hospital gown and sweatpants. His thumbs were still broken, and he knew he needed to get to a hospital soon if he ever wanted to shoot straight again. He had a reputation to maintain.

And a family to save.

Next, the archer took in his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, damp and foul as spring heat roiled off of the dumpster in waves. There was a foul-smelling brown liquid stuck against the roughly paved road. The windows of the buildings the alley was propped against were old and crumbling, the few windows he could make out cracked and boarded up with rotten wood.

The scenery of the alley felt familiar, but it didn't tell him where he was, so, with a steadying grunt of pain, he forced himself up onto his feet. His stomach rolled in pain as an obviously broken rib poked up against some organ he didn't know the name of. He bit down a grunt and took a step forward, and then another and another until it was a rhythm.

On that rhythm, Clint forced his way out of the alley and into the yellow sunlight. He blinked harshly, his mouth unraveling as crowds of people swarmed the streets. After nearly a month of a simple little cage with nothing but a cot and the small reassurance that if he stayed compliant, his family wouldn't be hurt, this was overwhelming.

The thought careened his thoughts forward as he shoved his way into the crowd, moving with the flow of people that gave him sideways looks and moved away. Why had he been let go? Why hadn't he just been killed? Why had he been taken in the first place? He'd never heard of any demands or motives, not even a familiar face or voice. All he had from his time there (wherever it was) was Quentin Beck. Not that that helped him any.

As Clint continued forward, he finally recognized where he was. New York. Manhattan, New York. His eyes widened as he spotted Avengers tower a few blocks away. He tried to dart towards it, but was immediately held back by the injuries littering his body. He grunted, slowing down.

Answers and safety would be able to wait just a few more minutes.

Eventually, the retired Avenger was at the feet of the tower, doors of welcoming safety waiting for him. Despite the sideways looks he was getting, Clint walked in. Immediately security stepped in his way.

"Sir," said a gruff security guard, looking over his appearance in clear disapproval and apprehension. "We're going to have to ask you to leave the premises."

"I'm an Avenger," he snapped, gesturing towards his probably very bruised face. "I saved the world? Get out of my way."

He moved to sidestep, but the man got in his way once more. "Sir, if you don't leave I will have to remove you from the premises myse--"

"Friday?" Clint interrupted. "Get me to Steve, please."

"My pleasure, Mr. Barton. Please step towards the private elevator. Mr. Johnson, your services are no longer necessary."

The order from the AI was enough to make the man step back and allow Clint access to the elevator. The archer stepped in, letting his shoulders drop in fatigue and barely held back fear. He just wanted to see his family again. He needed to know that they were okay and everything was going so slow--

The doors opened.

"Clint?" Sam asked.

Clint looked up to see the soldier, Steve padding up next to him. There was the widening of eyes before the two ran towards him. Clint had only managed to step out of the elevator before they were on him, their arms supporting him as they plopped him into a chair.

"What the hell happened to you?" Steve said, giving him a once over. He chuckled.

"Do I look that bad?"

"Your eyes are practically black," Sam deadpanned. "And I'd say your nose has been broken three times."

"Just twice," he corrected good-naturedly. "Have you heard anything from Laura? Or my kids?"

Sam and Steve exchanged a glance. "No. Can you explain what happened?"

Clint sucked in a breath to answer when a shot of cold broke through him. Like a freezing wave, he forgot. He forgot everything they wanted him to. He just didn't know who they were. "I...I don't know. I can't remember. I can't remember!"

"Okay, calm down, Clint," Sam reassured. "We're going to get you to the Medbay and then--" He broke off, Clint glanced up. "Steve, his eyes."

Steve didn't say anything, but he wordlessly muttered the word 'blue.' He managed a sigh. Not again.

"Clint, stay here. I'm going to go get Tony."

Without another word, the soldier was gone. When Clint looked down, his hands were coated an iridescent blue.

    "Talk about what?"

Tony didn't answer just yet, nodding his head towards the couch as he strutted out the elevator. He'd found over his five months of living with and practically being Peter's dad that the couch was better for talks. It was comfier and imbued with positive memories of movies and meals and the one time that the two had fallen asleep on each other. It hadn't happened since that one time, and despite Peter's embarrassment about it, he knew the kid had found familiarity in the rare comfort that Tony struggled to offer. He was getting better, he just wasn't quite there.

Peter followed behind him hesitantly--his hands still in his pockets, Tony noted--slowly resting on the couch after the man had plopped down in false confidence. Talks weren't Tony's thing, not that he hadn't been trying with Peter, but being open had never been a very strong trait of his, and he didn't know if it ever would be.

Tony hadn't been able to be open with his parents, had practically resisted all of Rhodey's encouragements (though he'd eventually come around, not that the two really had super emotional conversations on the regular), had attempted friendship with Happy and Pepper (a little more with Pepper, but not everything worked out in the end), and had reluctantly grown close to the Avengers--even more so with Steve. Steve had managed to open him up just a little, but a little was enough, to being hopeful and emotional and happy, but then there had been the Accords and Germany and...and Siberia.

The happiness had been drained away on that day.

And now it was slowly growing back, warily and nervously and at a snail's pace, but it was coming back nonetheless. Part of it had always been there, just twisted in the darkness of misery. Of loneliness. There had been weeks-- months-- after Steve's betrayal and departure in which the mechanic would reach out a hand in the darkness of his rumpled covers, searching for comforting warmth and a familiar strong heart, only for his fingers to trace frozen air.

Tony had never loved anyone like he'd loved Steve. It had been scarily all consuming, every moment adorned equally with warmth that buzzed in his chest and blew through his hair, and fear that drained the heat from his hands and left his weakly beating heart tired. And he'd loved it. Tony had felt alive, and not with fear and action, but unending infatuation.

It had been almost puppy-like at first, all big eyes and red ears from Steve whenever Tony had caught him staring over at him, like Tony had even tried to stop himself from openly taking in Steve. It had been cute. Tony had never been evasive about romantic inclinations, and he hadn't been any different with Steve, dropping every single hint and line he could think of in front of and towards the super soldier. There had been a good month in which he'd been debating on whether Steve just wasn't into him or if he wasn't being forward enough when he'd found out from a certain red haired spy that he was just too shy to do anything about it. He still remembered the feeling of the smile from that day.

In almost five years, the two had come full circle. Miscommunicated flirtation, a few dates, taking it slow, hot and heavy, a relationship unlike Tony had ever known, betrayed and destroyed heartbreak, a timid apology, and now it was back to miscommunicated flirtation. Well, miscommunicated flirtation was a bit of a stretch. It was more like any time Steve or Tony were in the same room, his recently obtained super-teen would tense up in barely concealed terror and become protective in a way that Tony had really only seen him do with May.

It had only been once. Tony didn't even think Peter had known he was there, he'd just pulled up on the kid's street to see a man, shifty and low and unabashedly staring straight at the woman's chest, forcing a chit chat with May when Peter had exited the apartment building. The kid had tensed then, his shoulders squaring, his feet planting, his chin lifting, and his eyes narrowing. Not quite a challenge but not quite not one either. Peter hadn't trusted that man around May, and he didn't trust Steve around Tony. It was almost sweet, in a way, to know the kid wanted to protect him like he'd wanted to protect May, but it worried him more.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter's voice wobbled, dragging Tony from his memories. He resisted shaking his head, instead casually readjusting his spot on the couch and turning to address the kid sat in front of him like he was being tried in court.

"At ease. You're not in trouble, kid."

His shoulders only dropped fractionally. "I'm not?"

"Have you done anything to be in trouble?"

"This is a trap."

Tony smiled. "It's not. Promise."

"So... What did you want to talk to me about?"

He chewed on his tongue, debating how to lead off. He settled on short and sweet. "Wanna tell me about you and Steve?"

Peter's shoulder tensed up the fraction he'd managed to drop, his face contorting in confusion. "What? I don't really talk to Mr. Rogers."

"Not what I mean, kid." The way Peter looked at him, slightly terrified but more than anything just confused, his mouth curved into a lost frown. It told Tony just about everything he needed to know. Reluctantly, Tony ripped off the band-aid. "Why do you freak out around Steve?"

It was less of a question, but not quite an accusation. A pointed observation that slapped the teenager in the face.

"I-I don't, Mr. Stark. Mr. Rogers is fine."

"Really, huh? Kid, it's been going on since you got here." Peter was silent, his stare hard and baffled. "You're telling me you don't realize what you're doing?"

"Doing what?"

Tony slumped slightly. "It's hard to explain. You just 'tense' around him, Pete, like you think he's about to go rabid at any second." When Peter remained silent, he continued. "It's not bad, kid, but it is concerning. You walk around him as far away as you can, you stand between him and me even when we're six feet apart. I don't think you even want to be in the same room as him."

"Mr. Stark--"

He held up a hand. Peter's voice trailed off immediately.

"This isn't--I'm not mad, kiddo. I want to know why because I want to help. Steve's my friend, and I want you to feel safe around him."

"I do! Mr. Rogers is fine! He's great!" Tony fixed the protesting teen with a doubting glare, not even trying to hide the challenging sarcasm in his face. Peter, to his credit, stared back, if a little nervously as he muttered with a shrug. "Fine, I'm not super comfortable around him, but I didn't realize it was that big of a deal."

"It's...it's not, Peter. If you don't want to be around him, I'm not going to push you, but I want to help, and I want to know why so I can make it better."

Peter's jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly, as if he didn't know whether to be anxious or not. Finally, after a full minute, the teenager opened his mouth, the tatter of words escaping.

"It's just...I saw on the recordi--"

The shattering ding of the elevator opening interrupted Peter, revealing Steve, eyes blown wide and panicked as he rushed over. Tony stood, moving to step towards the panicked soldier while silently cursing the way the teenager's jaw clicked shut.

"Steve? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and low and unwillingly familiar. With a glance at the teenager still seated on the couch, the soldier obviously forced himself to calm, though his posture remained unnaturally straight.

"Come to the common room. I'll explain there."

Immediately, before Tony could utter a word, Peter shot up. The mechanic swiveled to eye the kid, but when he looked at the teenager, he didn't find what he'd been expecting. He'd thought that the kid would be defiant and protective like he usually was at the indication of him and Steve being alone together, but instead he was... scared.

"Peter?" Steve asked before he could. The teenager grazed his hand across the back of his neck before rolling up his sleeve in response.

"Something's wrong. Really wrong."

Tony squinted, his nerves squirming at the sight of Peter's hair standing on end, pulling itself towards the ceiling as though it were trying to escape the nearby danger.

"Okay. Keep an eye out, tell me if anything gets worse. Steve, what do you need to show me?" Tony said, now properly terrified but refusing to let his voice wobble or his hand shake. Peter's hair only freaked like that when he was in danger, and those two words should never be in the same sentence. He had to keep his kid safe.

Tony moved to grip Peter's arm, hoping to reassure him and keep him close as they went to go see whatever was freaking Steve out so bad, when the kid let out a strangled gasp. He fell to his knees. Tony moved to grab him as Steve jumped over the couch, kneeling beside the kid now clutching at the hair on his head like a lifeline.

"Peter. Peter." He didn't respond.

"Queens," Steve said, his voice soft and low, a large hand reaching out to comfort the kid. There was a pained cry at the touch. Steve retracted his hand, burned.

No, not burned, blue.

The palm of Steve's hand--where he'd touched Peter--was coated an icy blue, almost ethereal. It glowed in a way that was eerily similar to the Tesseract, or the arc reactor that had used to be burrowed in his chest.

Steve's eyes met his own, panic and concealed terror, before both turned back to Peter, still struggling for strangled breaths on the floor. Tony was the only thing keeping him up, and when the man looked down at where Peter's skin touched his own, he found the same blue coating him. He moved his hand--blue and tingling with the feeling of a cold burn--towards Peter's face, lifting up the kid's chin before gasping.

"Pete?" he whispered. There were a few tears slipping down his cheeks, the skin under his eyes red and beginning to puff. But that wasn't what had drawn the gasp of terror from him.

Peter's eyes were icy blue, the same as what was coating him and Steve. They were entirely blue. No white or black or familiar copper brown in the face in front of him. No hint of Peter.

"Medbay," Tony said on autopilot. "We have to get him to the Medbay."

Steve nodded quickly, moving to scoop Peter up. He'd only managed to just cradle the kid in his arms when it happened.

The blue spread like a shot, and suddenly it wasn't just Peter's eyes or Steve's hand that was completely shining blue, it was everything. It spread out from the kid's chest at alarming speed, coating Steve first and then Tony from where his arm had been against the kid.

The three stood completely still as though statues, planted firmly in space. The contagious light grew from the three, moving into the ground and leeching into the walls. It only took minutes for it to completely coat the world.

Only five figures knew for how long the Earth shone as bright as a newly born star, life on the planet wavering and reforming from light blue to dark scarlet hues.

// Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 //

[davidmann95]

"Infinite Frontier": has DC actually learned anything and will things actually be better?

‘Learned anything’ might not be the right way of putting it, because this doesn’t seem to be a refinement on anything they’ve done before so much as - as Bleeding Cool speculated in November (that’s a donotlink so go ahead and check it out) - laying the groundwork for a much bigger shift a little ways down the road to fully digital-first titles collected in trades and only a handful of remaining regular periodicals centered around the biggest marquee names and aimed more at bookstore and supermarket audiences than the comics direct market, presumably alongside OGNs and some prestige/Black Label material. They’re consolidating their titles around recognizable names, making a Walmart-style anthology a tentpole Batman title and experimenting with fewer but thicker monthly comics with backups, and slapping relatively few #1s on even major shifts like Bendis/Marquez on Justice League which would seem to suggest the BIG change is still to come. For now, and again this seems to line up with this being the endgame, the goal seems less than a handful of remarkable titles than linewide consistency; few if any of these books are going to end up all-time classics even if there are several standouts, but even the worst of the bunch look merely tepid rather than total disasters in the making, and in that regard it feels like the improved version of the basic Rebirth creative ethos. They’re here to button up their shirts, demonstrate some professionalism and competence, and prove they can make a model aimed outside the Wednesday Warriors work.

Anonymous said: You know how you wanted Superman writers to start harping on how “he’s just a regular guy” and do cosmic space god Superman? Apparently PKJ has said he plans to do exactly that with Superman in his run. Also seems like Jon will get one of the main books and Clark will take over the other, so Bendis won’t be writing him, he’ll be written by PKJ or Lewis most likely. Interview is on Coliseum of Comics YT channel.

Anonymous said: I don’t think Bendis is writing Hon as Superman. Given that FS seems to be dictating the direction of the line, Lewis or Watters seem more likely for that job. Would prefer either of them, they’re both good indie workers.

Between tweets, this interview that I’ve had relayed to me by a friend, and new solicit material: the plan seems to be that PKJ will only be handling both Superman and Action Comics for about a year, and after a big Action story illustrated by Mikel Janin he’ll remaining on that while Superman goes to someone else. And with very pointed notes that there should be space for both Clark and Jon ‘between the two books’, Jon standing in front of Clark in multiple promotional images, and Superman #29′s mention of “a new Superman”, it seems likely that Jon will in fact be taking on the title himself in the present along with Superman proper (probably as you said with Lewis or maybe Watters - if it’s not a self-contained future book I doubt Bendis is doing it after all) while Clark and PKJ remaining on Action. He even apparently said he was involved with the original 5G plans as they morphed into Future State, and that stuff from that is going to continue to be mined: between this and the Future State Batman being in the Infinite Frontier group shot along with Yara Flor Wonder Girl and the Flash of Future State: Suicide Squad, I think we’re gonna see a lot of legacy characters taking over in the present and that’s when we’ll see the big new wave of #1s absent here (probably paired with some cosmic type like Waverider or Spectre going “events are happening earlier than they were ordained!”). I’d go so far as to guess the digital first vs. few remaining periodicals will be divided between the new generation heroes and ‘classic’ material, though which is which would depend on DC’s priorities and which they feel would be best serviced where.

Further thoughts on the books outside my previous immediate initial takes now that full solicits are out:

* Is Justice League just being used as a catch-all for all the stuff the other ‘Infinite’ branded covers didn’t cover, or is this indicative that Bendis/Marquez Justice League will rope in a lot of characters beyond its immediate cast, given the big DCU group shot for this line was already on Infinite Frontier proper? The solicit mentions Flash for instance being part of the team even though he’s only on this cover, not the main one.

* That Superman Red & Blue is being launched alongside this - with further King stuff in the works for Black Label too - would seem to suggest that DC’s actively going to continue putting together prestige works, rather than putting those entirely by the wayside in favor of the mass-market stuff. There was word awhile back that Black Label might be going under as part of this shift, so glad that a place for a more creatively free approach seems to be remaining intact. Also they got the Final Fantasy logo guy to do a Superman cover, so cool!

* Ok, so it’s a new Swamp Thing altogether, along with more next generation stuff maybe that’ll be an in for me.

* Oh thank god the Batman logo is finally good again after a decade. Not exactly excited though for these Williamson backups with Damian, even should him seeming to rejoin Talia turn out to be a misdirect.

* “In the aftermath of Dark Nights: Death Metal, catch a glimpse of brave new worlds within the DC Universe...but what are these strange planets? As we delve into the parallel lives of the Man of Steel and the Dark Knight, we'll meet new villains, new heroes, alternate realities, and a transdimensional collision that you will need to see to believe! It's the dastardly debut of a cadre of new villains, including the Spider Lady and her poisonous webs, Dr. Atom, who sports a Kryptonite pendant, and the maniacal machinations of the Unknown Wizard! You've never seen Batman and Superman like this before—so buckle up and get ready for the start of a new era courtesy of writer Gene Luen Yang and artist Ivan Reis!” THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANT FROM COMICS, INJECT IT INTO EVERY VEIN IN MY BODY. I assume this is where we’ll see Calvin Ellis given his presence on the Infinite Frontier cover? And is Reis gonna stick around, or will it be a different artist each issue for this multiverse story?

* Spoilers for the apparent new Wonder Woman status quo behind rot13: Fb rfcrpvnyyl nsgre ure nccnerag qrzvfr va Qrngu Zrgny naq gur pbfzvp fgnaqneq frg ol Vzzbegny Jbaqre Jbzna, vg frrzrq bqq gur svefg fgbel ol gur fnzr grnz gnxvat bire ure obbx jnf tbvat gb or nobhg ure svtugvat Ivxvatf. Ohg ab, fur'f va Inyunyyn, orpnhfr fur'f nccneragyl nyy nobhg fbyivat TBQ CEBOYRZF abj. Tbq, cyrnfr yrg guvf grnz fgvpx nebhaq naq svanyyl znxr guvf obbx nyy vg fubhyq or.

* And as one era begins, another ends with Grant Morrison’s alleged final DC comics arriving on the same day in March with Wonder Woman: Earth One Volume 3 and The Green Lantern Season Two #12.

[mysterious-prophetess]

Some BnHA Thoughts I’ve had recently

Warning: this gets long and rambly and is a personal opinion.

I know I’m probably not the only person who’s thought this but the whole Hero System of BnHA/MHA is just kind of...weird. 

The origins are explained in the spin-off, I think. IDK I don’t read Illegals. 

Nothing against Illegals I just don’t want to read it. What I’ve seen is ok, but anyway, back to my point.

Heroes working legit and for money is just very.....weird for someone like me who has grown up with the older Western comic hero canon where superheroes were, and still are, vigilantes who don’t get paid and don’t get to really enjoy any sort of public accolades, unless you’re particular heroes in the DC or Marvel universes. 

Even then, someone like my favorite hero of all time—Superman—doesn’t get to really be Superman 24/7. He still has to be Clark Kent and live Clark Kent’s life. Honestly, it’s what makes an alien with OP godlike powers relatable. That is if writers actually take the time to write his relationships with his family/friends and not jettison off the other characters in stupid OOC ways that previous characterizations of Clark wouldn’t have tolerated.

Sure, Clark can do all that super-powered stuff but it doesn’t get his articles in on time or his bills paid. He has to still participate in society and keep his lives relatively separate. 

My second favorite hero of all time—and my love for Superman is pretty unshakable so this second place has a decent gap—is Spider-Man. Specifically Peter Parker the original. The others are ok too but Peter is the one I grew up with, so he’s the one to which I’m most attached.

Peter Parker’s life—in a proper adaptation—always is full of struggle between being Spider-Man and being Peter Parker. 

Even after he comes out as Spider-Man during the proper Civil War story arc (nope, still not over what the MCU did to it especially when they gave my favorite Cap quote to a glorified extra and made it so IRON-MAN WAS IN THE RIGHT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME) Peter’s life is still a struggle, it’s just now a public one like the Fantastic Four who, probably, are the only group close to a sort of BnHA/MHA style of heroics for their whole existence (even Tony had a secret identity for a while in early Iron-Man. Look it up). And their lives were a struggle. Plus, I’m also pretty sure they didn’t get paid for their heroics? I’d have to do research to verify that because I’m not actually a Fantastic Four fan.

My point is, I’m just much more used to heroes who have to do heroics as a side job(more like a calling) but still have a day job (unless you’re Bruce Wayne but he’s got other stuff to balance that out). 

The Illegals, though I don’t read their manga, are a bit more like traditional superheroes, but they also sort of don’t remind me of them because they live in a society where there are legit vs illegal heroes. Unlike all of the western canon superheroes who are, by legal definition, committing a crime by stopping crimes. It’s an aspect that Marvel for a long time had better than DC because the cops were treating some of the heroes like Spider-Man like the vigilantes they actually were. 

I think that Horikoshi will explore stuff about this system later but I can’t help but feel that the system he created within his universe is ripe for exploitation by the wrong sort of people.

Look at the reviled purple one. His superpower is actually excellent. His spheres can easily contain a criminal until they need to be processed and if he’s paired up with someone like Sero, their combo as a capture team is amplified. Stick some of the spheres onto a strip of Sero’s tape and it’s an instant sticky bola. 

If his life had progressed without being an ancillary background character who keeps being shoved into shit to keep him in the story artificially by authorial bias, Mineta would have graduated and become a hero and would have been doing it for all the wrong reasons and (if he kept his nose clean of scandals) been able to live a decent life while also using his position to be a total piece of garbage.

See Captain Celebrity from Illegals for the adult version of this motivation taken to its extreme.

People rag on Endeavor for being a hero for the wrong reasons, but actually, he still does do a lot of good even if he’s a flaming jerk and he’s still popular enough to be the eternal number 2 prior to All Might’s retirement. 

Then there’s Mount Lady who swooped in and sniped Kamui Woods’s villain for the attention. And snake lady, Uwabumi, who seems more into being an idol of sorts than being a hero. The point is, the heroes of the BnHA/MHA universe aren’t actually incentivized to be heroes for justice or the general good. I personally blame the popularity aspect for a lot of the exploitation I see potentially within this system.

With that popularity aspect, the hero system has become tainted by people who are just in it to be idols and make money off of side hustles/brand deals/commercials/toys. There are enough in the system like Izuku—who genuinely wants to save people— that keep it from being overrun by people who are just in it for themselves, but as it is, the BnHA/MHA system is just so weird and ripe for twisting (which I as a fic writer & reader appreciate for the fertile ground it provides).

We flip back to the Western Canon and we have maybe a handful of characters at best I can point to that fit this “hero for popularity reasons” mould, with DC character Booster Gold the time-traveling con-man being the only one I can name off the top of my head. 

This is because Western Canon heroes are, usually, in heroics/vigilantism for personal reasons that tend to be motivated by justice, vengeance, or some mix of the two. 

Or, as quoted to death in most every adaptation of Spider-Man, Uncle Ben’s immortal words,

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Plus, popularity and merchandizing is next-to-impossible for the Western canon hero because they actually have secret identities and don’t compete in highly publicized school festivals as minors that are said to be more popular than the Olympics where their real names are on display (sorry, the more you look at the UA Sports Festival, the less it makes any damn sense from a security standpoint). 

So, a character could go into heroics within the western canon wanting to be popular but unless they want to be a public hero (which is technically illegal) they can never profit from said-heroics directly. Again, we have Booster Gold who tried it and the other superheroes of the DC universe despised him.

He’s had a moment where he realized being in it for fame and glory is not a good thing and has turned over a new leaf, I think, so again heroes in it for themselves are generally not a major thing in the Western canon universes. 

Horikoshi has been using the system and its flaws for some great story moments and will likely continue to do so. 

It still doesn’t stop me from looking at it like the beautiful piece of weirdness that it is. I may never stop thinking it’s weird but that’s ok. 

Note 1: I know The Incredibles showed heroes being heroes without it being vigilantism but they were also employed/protected by the government and still had to maintain secret identities and when told to stop by the government, did. That, in and of itself, was explored by the movie to being a bit of an issue somewhat. 2 did an ok job of also exploring it but neither played the angle as well as they could have.

Note 2: Sky High’s heroes might have a hero school but they still have secret identities and day jobs.

[unloveable-unreachable]

You’re the One My Heart Wants- Chapter 2

Word Count: 2,034

Warnings:  I’m just giving out a warning before you read this chapter. There’s a lot of sensitive topics being talked about, especially family problems. If that can be triggering to you then please don’t read this chapter. & Swearing

Author: Me

Y/N POV

“Y/N!” Ali calls from the top of the trail with Logan, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Come on sleepy head. I bet you’re regretting some of those drinks by now,” she laughs, “Catch up, Ash found a spot and has lunch ready.” I will never understand why they enjoy doing this every weekend and on their off days. I’d rather be at the gym working out than being out in nature with the bugs. I have nothing against bugs really, it’s spiders that I have a problem with. Fuck spiders. I hear Ali threaten to send Ash down for me, and if there’s one thing I know better than anything- don’t piss off Ashlyn Harris. I love both of my moms equally, but Ash just scares me when she gets pissed off (so does Ali, but don’t tell her that). I pick up my pace, but if I’m being honest I can’t shake what’s taking up my mind.

“Can I sleep with you?” Alex asks with puppy dog eyes that could sway Thanos himself. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How could anyone tell this angelic being no?? It seems absolutely impossible for me. “Um, yeah. Of course, no problem,” I manage to get out even though I’m still completely breathless from the sight of her. She smiles brightly at me and steps in my room. I shut the door, take a breath and finally turn to face her.

“Hey Y/N, are you okay?” Ash says before biting into her apple. Ali looks at me with concern, normally I’d joke with her and tell her that her mom was showing but I refrain from that joke just for the moment. “Yeah mom, I’m okay. I just have a lot on my mind right now,” I respond. They take that as a good answer even though I know I’m hiding something from them. But what was I even hiding? I didn’t understand it enough to explain it, or even remember the whole thing fully. “Was that Alex’s car in your driveway when I came to pick you up?” Ali asks while watching Logan chase a squirrel around a tree. Ash looks at both of us a little confused she wasn’t informed beforehand. Ali just gives her a small smile before focusing all of her attention to me. I freeze at the mention of Alex. “Uh, yeah it was. She and Kelley came over last night for drinks and they just stayed the night. Kelley left right before you got there,” I say as Ash passes me a bottle of water. “What about Alex? Where was she when I got there?” Ali asks with confusion clear on her face. “She was still passed out upstairs when I left,” is all I answer.

“Aren’t you gonna get in bed?” Drunk Alex asks. I’m literally so nervous, I still haven’t moved from the spot by my dresser. “Uh, yeah. Hold on,” I answer as I step into my bathroom. I hear Alex call out my name as I splash a shit ton of water over my face. Why am I freaking out? She’s straight. I never considered her before, even though I’m sure as hell doing it now. “It’ll be fine,” I state to myself in the mirror before opening the door. As I step out, all I see is her sitting up, staring at me with her ocean eyes.

After finishing up the hellish hike, that’s just my opinion, I follow Ali back to her car. But not before telling Logan bye and giving Ash a big bear hug, since we’re practically the same size except I’m just slightly taller than her. She pats the top of my head before I jog over to Ali’s car, and we head back to my house. For probably the first time ever me and Ali sit in awkward silence. She breaks the silence first, “So just to be clear, you are gay. Right?” I’m caught by surprise by what she says, not offended just surprised. I look up at her and I can immediately see the concern in her eyes. I sigh. “Yes I am, but not openly with my family,” I say as I look down at my hands. Ali is silent for maybe two minutes before she lets out a long sigh. She pulls the car over in a parking lot I don’t recognize. I’m in a state of confusion, while Ali looks like she’s trying to figure out what exactly to say. “I support your life choices. I know how hard it was for you to leave Portland, mostly because you would call me or Ash every night crying. And that broke our hearts, and we were happy knowing that you would be coming here where we can be there for you no matter what. The team is happy you’re here, especially me and Ash. We’ve loved you since 2015, back when you were still our little rookie,” she stops trying to compose herself. “Can you tell me why your family doesn’t know?” Ali finally finishes with a shaky voice.

As she spoke, I just looked at her, studying her face. She wasn’t just a teammate to me, she’s someone I looked up to when I made my way up to the professional level. This was Ali Krieger for god’s sake, I’ve never seen her get this emotional, ever. She, along with Ash, is someone I look up to in my career and my personal life. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother ever was. She’s been there through everything, my wins and loses and my injuries at the start of my career. She and Ash are the family I never knew I could have, or even deserved. But I’m glad I have them now. So after all of this, why had I waited so long to tell her the truth about my family, and why I never really talked about or to them? Would that change her view of me? I didn’t want pity from anyone when it comes to my family, and I know she wouldn’t give me any. This was the best time to tell her, especially since she’s being so open with me.

I swallow hard before blurting everything out to her. “My family is a difficult one to understand. My grandfather is a football coach and a hateful man. He never supported me when I started playing soccer. My grandmothers are homophobic, and when I say that I mean they are hateful towards them like you’ve never seen. And my mom didn’t hide her view on gay people either. I’m the oldest sister of three girls. Ever since I can remember I’ve been expected to be great, no excuses. They forced me into sports I didn’t like, so when I went into soccer I became the disappointment of the family. I don’t know what they have against the sport, or why me playing it was such a big deal. I thought they would support my choice in playing the sport I loved like they supported my sisters in the things they did. No matter what I do, or how successful I am, it’s never enough for them. I’m the most successful out of my sisters. They’re praised because they have husbands and children, fulfilling their ‘birthright’. And through all of that, I’m left in the background. My family’s view on gay people hasn’t changed since I was young enough to know what they were talking about, and I realized how wrong they were even back then. I figured out I was gay when I was 13, and any sign of that had to be hidden away or I’d be punished. If they ever found out that I’m gay, I wouldn’t just be the disappointment. I would be completely disowned, meaning no contact ever again from anyone. I can’t lose my family,” I say through the tears that started at some point.

Ali was crying, too. Like uncontrollable sobs were coming from both of us. She reached for me, pulling me into a tight hug. This caused me to cry harder into her shoulder, and I could feel her physically shaking from her cries. We both comforted each other until Ali finally spoke up. “I’m so so sorry, Y/N. That should never be something you should have to worry about. If they can’t accept you for who you are, then you don’t deserve them and they definitely don’t deserve you,” she says as she brushes a tear from my cheek. “You have a family. Me, Ash, and Logan are your family. Hell, even Kyle’s your family,” she laughs, “And we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, I promise.” That last sentence hit my heart so hard it made me cry even more. I pull her into another hug, only this one much tighter. “I love you, Ali,” I say through my soft sobs. “I love you too, kiddo.”

Ali finally gets me back to my house after our heart-to-heart. Our car ride home let me think over all of the shit my family has put me through and how my family, that was Ali and Ash, treated me with more respect than my actual one ever did. I think I’ve come up with my decision about how to handle my family, finally. We pull in the driveway, and Alex’s car is gone. “So about Alex…” Ali starts to say as I go to get out of the car. “Yeah?” I asked confused. “She’s been through a lot, just be careful,” Ali says knowingly. I roll my eyes and say, “Careful Ali, your mom is showing.” She lets out a small laugh but goes back to a semi-serious look. “We’re just friends. Don’t worry so much, mom,” I say with a little smile at the end. I manage to get another laugh from her before we say our goodbyes.

I walked into my now empty house, besides Luna of course, and I keep getting flashbacks from the night before. A lot of them are of me dealing with a very drunk Kelley, a few are of me getting more alcohol, and a very select few have Alex in them. I move throughout the house fighting with the flashbacks while I try to clean up our collective messes from last night. When I make it up to my room, I notice that the bed is made and the room seems cleaner for some reason. I lean against the door, trying to piece together everything that happened and trying to figure out if I did something wrong. I look over at my bed, and suddenly I’m pulled back into a flashback.

“Alex, go to bed,” I whine as Alex keeps moving the bed. “I need to get comfy,” she says, giggling at the last word. I turn towards her and give her a serious look. “What do I need to do to get you ‘comfy’?” I ask as she starts giggling at that damn word again. When she finally stops she asks “Can we cuddle?” I roll my eyes, although she’d never notice because of the darkness and her drunkness, thinking that I could be asleep right now. I open my arms, inviting her in. She lets out a small squeal as she accepts my invitation, which was adorable. Just stating facts. She wraps her arms around my waist and snuggles into my chest. We lay there long enough for me to start drifting off to sleep, just to be woken up by Alex propping herself up on my chest. When I look up at her, even in the darkness, I could tell our faces were inches apart. And I could feel her breath on my lips.

I come out of my thoughts with Luna bringing something to me. “Whatcha got, Luna?” I ask as I lean down to take whatever it was from her mouth. It’s a note with my name on it. I make my way to the bed, sit down and open it. I sit in a frozen state as I read the seven words on the page.

“I can explain, can we please talk?”

To Be Continued

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Gwen Stacy #1-2 Thoughts

A mixed bag.

There are four fundamental problems with this book:

It further kisses the ass of a character unworthy of such adoration and who already has another title. A character who’s adoration often has come at the expense of the other characters

It characterizes Gwen as flawless. Maybe not Spider-Man: Blue levels of romanticized perfection but still flawless nevertheless

The timing of the story is rather confusing everything points to it occurring between ASM #23-30 except we learn Uncle Ben died the same day as Gwen Stacy #1…how???????????????????????????

This book is pointless. Gwen is dead. Her enduring relevance is through the mere fact that Spidey and Miles Warren loved her and are sad about her death. What she was like in High School has 0 relevance to the current status quo, the status quos before her death and even the status quos when she was alive

Basically this book is a well plotted YA crime story that wrapped around a lot of continuity porn.

It let’s you see Jean DeWolff in action. It lets you see a pre-Wraith Yuri Watanabe in action. It shows you Gwen’s high school sweetheart. It sets up those Stan Lee stories where Gwen is somewhat involved in politics. It explains how and when Gwen met Norman and Harry. How Captain Stacy got injured and how he retired. It shows you more of the Goblin’s Ditko era gangland schemes. It shows you Gwen cooked for her Dad.

And sure, the fanboy in me, the continuity lover in me LIKES seeing that stuff. But thinking critically for a moment…this is all pretty pointless isn’t it.

What do we gain from learning how exactly Spider-Man’s dead girlfriend’s dead Dad injured his leg? Nothing. We don’t even gain that much from finding out he was friends with Spider-Man’s other dead friend Jean DeWolff.

I mean Harry is a live right now but never talks about Gwen. Before Child Within I don’t think he ever talked about his dead friend Gwen Stacy and that’s honestly the most relevant thing in this title thus far.*

That being said if you LIKE any of the stuff mentioned and want something just self-indulgent then go for it.

I loved seeing Norman. Although I laughed at how utterly unsubtle the book was about him. Todd Nauck introduces him with a big Green Goblin image behind him just in case you didn’t see Spider-Man 2002 and didn’t know Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin. Gage drops lines referencing Norman’s eventual murder of her with the subtly of a hammer. Although I am intrigued by the fact that he is actively derailing her investigation and the fact that Gwen is on the trail of a mystery we already know the answers to. The tension doesn’t lie in the threat to the characters because we know who’s going to live (and I don’t care about Darius who’s unlikely to make it out alive). Rather the tension lies in how  this is going to get to the resolution we know is inevitable.

I also like how the story lightly draws parallels to George’s job and Peter’s. Being Spider-Man did kill Gwen in the end, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t lived her life at risk anyway. It legitimizes Peter’s relationship with her and other women because it conveys that non-super powered crime fighters also expose their loved ones to danger. Indeed, in this story George Stacy has been targeted by an outright super villain.

Perhaps above all else I adored how the crime story gels. It all adds up, it’s all clearly conveyed to us and it progresses logically. Perhaps it’s not novel, but in this day and age I’d prefer competency over novelty any day.

I also liked how the book did lightly flesh out how Peter and Gwen might’ve emotionally connected with one another. They both had to be caregivers to elderly/infirm parental figures when their other parental figure died. Peter had to step up and become the man of the house after Ben died. Gwen kind of had to fill her mother’s shoes after her death, as shown by her making and delivering food to her father. I will say this, for good or ill, Gage nailed her relationship with her Dad as it was an entirely organic extrapolation from their Silver Age interactions.

But that’s yet another problem with the book. As I expected, it’s revisionist history. This is not a natural extrapolation of Ditko’s Gwen Stacy, it’s a natural extrapolation of the post-mortem idea  of Gwen Stacy. The page from Nick Lowe in issue #1 pretty much confirms that when it waxes lyrical about Gwen’s decency and so on. Shit, the recap pages refer to Gwen as the ‘one and only’ when she literally has an AU counterpart with a solo book and infamously has been cloned like half a dozen times.  There was clearly more love and attention lavished upon this book than the other female led Spider titles. ‘We are all big Gwen Stacy fans’ said Lowe. That has be concerned if I’m honest.

Gwen’s look in the book reflects this. She sports her classic black headband, long hair look more than once. Of course it’s possible for someone to sport different hair styles throughout their lives and go back to them. But in this case Gwen only began to look that way because she was actively emulating MJ’s look. The fact that she does look like that is proof this book isn’t rooted in how Gwen was but how she was remembered as being. Although I appreciate Nauck did play with her looks beyond that, she isn’t dressed as she was the night she died or anything.

But the back-up stories...holy shit.

Let’s put aside how MJ didn’t get back-ups in her solo-book. They just brown nose Gwen so goddam hard. An Avengers team comprised of Gwen’s. Gwen killing Goblins on the Brooklyn Bridge. A paper doll of Gwen? Jesus Christ.

Overall…I dunno if I can recommend this book to anyone not in the Cult of Gwen. Because it was made specifically for them. But if you aren’t this is skippable, unless you are a continuity junkie like me.

*I suppose Yuri Watanabe could come back into the titles but she was so under utilized from her inception-now I don’t think this will gain us anything either

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Prompt 20?

*pointing finger* The anon did it! The rating of this fic is all on them!

Good SportswomanshipPairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 2707

20. “You should see me in my old uniform. I’m pretty sure it still fits.”

“I wish I could play,” Peter said quietly, rubbing hisknuckles along his jaw in frustration.

They were sitting in the school bleachers, watching afootball game. Attendance at six home-team sporting events per year might havebeen mandatory for passing gym, but showing school spirit wasn’t. MJ had figured her boyfriend was just sharing her lack of enthusiasm for institutionalizedmale power rituals by remaining quiet through the first quarter and most of the second, until he made that comment.

She stretched her back and turned to him. What was he doing?Fishing for a compliment? Well, MJ wasn’t going to stroke his ego, but she alsocouldn’t resist correcting him.

“You could play.”

“I’d be the best one on the field,” he said as he staredstraight ahead.

She rolled her eyes at his egotistical words before theembarrassment in his tone struck her. Peter gave her a sideways glance andraised his eyebrows. Ah, she understood. It’d be pretty hard to keep hisabilities a secret if nerdy Peter Parker was suddenly sprinting and dodging andthrowing better than any of the rest of the guys on the team―without anytraining. MJ seriously doubted that anyone would make the jump to wondering ifhe was Spider-Man, but obviously his abrupt athleticism would be suspicious.

“I didn’t know you cared that much about football,” sheoffered.

Peter laughed and it wasn’t totally happy.

“I’m not really sure I do. More that I’d just like to tryit. I just wonder about things,” he said, shifting towards her, “you know?”

MJ studied his face, the melancholy concentrated in thetightness under his eyes and the inward pull of his eyebrows, all of thatdisappointment trying to drag his usually cheerful features into the center ofhis face like a black hole. She didn’t like it.

“Sure, I know,” she acknowledged, putting her hand in hiswhen it snuck towards her. “I tried it once too.”

“Tried what?”

“Organized sports.” A horrible combination of words.

Peter was baffled and tugged on her hand to get her to meethis eye.

“Are you telling me you were on a team?” he demanded.

MJ nodded reluctantly. She’d told him to make him feelbetter, but jeeze, did he had to speak so loudly? The entire population of thebleachers didn’t need to know she hadn’t always been the quiet sarcastic girlwho voluntarily sat in detention.

“A team that wasn’t about memorizing information and goingto decathlon tournaments?”

“You’re acting like this is earthshattering news,” shecomplained, eyelids lowered in a critical expression.

“It is!” Peter insisted, his eyes wide and insistent. “Whatdid you play?”

“Volleyball. Last two years of elementary school.”

“Wow.” He was stunned and MJ found this increasinglyhilarious. “Volleyball. With the kneepads and the… the shorts.”

Hold up.

She gave him a look and Peter’s rambling started up again,more lurching than before.

“And the ball. The net. Uh, spiking.”

This right here was why MJ couldn’t believe he hadn’t beenuniversally found out as Spider-Man. She could corner him with just a look andhis intelligent sentences devolved into knee-jerk word association.

“What about the shorts, Peter?” she asked sweetly.

She intentionally crossed her legs so that the top one swungin his direction. Her boyfriend swallowed. Looked like she’d successfully takenhis mind off of football; his gaze was wandering over her jeans like it couldiron out the creases left in them since MJ had snatched them out of the dryerthis morning (after leaving them sitting in there all night―woops), runninglate.

He blushed and she felt a tickle of heat sneak up her ownneck.

“You should see me in my old uniform,” MJ suggested,speaking more softly now, just for the two of them. “I’m pretty sure it stillfits.”

Peter’s eyes flicked up to hers, suddenly intense enough tomake her miss her breath and race for the next one.

“When?”

The furtiveness in his tone and expression made MJ so giddythat one side of her mouth jerked up in a smirk. (In terms of showing anythingbesides boredom in public, this was a lot for her.)

“When do you want to?” she asked.

“I’m going home,” he announced, spinning abruptly to addressNed, who was sitting on his other side.

“What? Peter, it’s gonna be halftime in another…” Nedconsulted his watch. “…five minutes. We were gonna run into the cafeteria andget Doritos. Remember? Doritos!”

“I’m sick.”

“Super sick,” MJ added from behind him, in case herboyfriend looked as much like a liar as he sounded.

Ned frowned.

“But you’re never sick. I thought, maybe, that you couldn’tget sick, because of the…” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and MJ was onceagain amazed by how Peter managed to get away with his truly terrible excuses.Ned knew his secret, knew him too well to buy this shit.

“Something he ate, I think,” she prompted.

“You do look flushed, Peter,” Betty commented, leaningaround Ned with a sympathetic squint to her eyes.

“Yeah,” Peter blurted, catching on. He rose to his feet toofast and belatedly clutched his abdomen. “Stomach bug.”

MJ stood and rested her forehead against the back of hisshoulder for a second so no one would see her roll her eyes.

“Stomach bug?” Nedrepeated―expression both disgusted and intrigued―at a whisper that almost gotlost (for her anyway―no super-senses) in the chattering amateur sportscommentary of their peers, surrounding them on the bleachers. Ok, seemed likeNed was buying this shit.

“Gross, dude. No, not that kind of bug.”

Peter would’ve stood there explaining, and probably blowingthe cover that was flimsy enough already, but someone a few rows back yelled,“DOWN IN FRONT,” so MJ grabbed her boyfriend by the hand and they skedaddled.

“You’re an idiot,” she informed them as they pounded downthe metal stairs and skirted behind the bleachers.

“You always think that.” He grinned at her.

“Today you’re a whole lot of idiot.”

Now, when she shot him a sideways glance, Peter was beaming.

“And I’m gonna see a whole lot of leg when you put on thoseshorts.”

―

MJ had a fake book on her bookshelf―the kind with a hollowinterior that could conceal a diary, spare keys, emergency funds, a discreetweapon (ok, he’d been spending too much time hanging out with Ms. Romanoff),but which, in this case, contained condoms―and Peter was staring at it eagerlywhen his girlfriend walked head-first into her bedroom. She was bent forward,laughing.

“Yeah, so, I was wrong,” MJ laugh-gasped. “The uniformdoesn’t fit anymore.”

Peter swallowed as she straightened up. The shirt wasn’t bad,maybe not long enough if she lifted her arms, but the stretchy black shortswere certainly… snug. Not unlike his jeans, all of a sudden. The shorts werescrunched up at the top of her thighs, creases of strain visible as theyclearly fought against her hips. He wondered what they looked like from theback.

“Are they that small all over?” He tried to ask like he wasbeing helpful; the supportive friend during a changing room trial. “Turnaround.”

His girlfriend gave him a slow, knowing smiling. Damn, shealways knew.

“I should probably just take them off.”

“Here, uh, lemme… lemme help you.” Peter motioned hercloser, taking a couple steps back himself until, whoops, he was sitting on theedge of her mattress.

He hopped up again and reached for her hand. She was stillwearing that sly look as she took it, allowing him to guide her closer. Peter’smouth was getting dry, his heart pounding. When his gaze fell obviously to MJ’sbare legs below the shorts, she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Take your time. Not like I’m losing circulation in my legsor anything,” she complained.

“Not even a please?” Peter checked with a grin. Releasingher hand, he settled both of his on her hips. It was easy to feel the tautwaistband of the shorts beneath the slight overlap of her jersey.

“What, I’m supposed to beg Spider-Man to rescue me? From myown clothes?”

He cocked his head.

“It’s a pretty full-service job,” Peter assured her, thenwhipped the spandex shorts down until they clung around her thighs.

“And yet you’ve just half-assed it,” MJ assessed. She lookedfrom her partially lowered shorts to his eyes and raised her eyebrows.

“They’re… stuck.”

“Uh huh.” Dry. Disbelieving.

“Really,” he fibbed, shrugging like he hated to be thebearer of bad news.

“I’m narrower across the middle of my thighs than at myhips. If you can get the shorts down, you can get ‘em off.”

“I agree, it defies the laws of physics. Trust me, I’m gonnagive Scientific American a call the minute I leave.”

“Miracle of science then, that’s what we’re going with? Notthe fact that the second you yanked my shorts down you found out I wasn’twearing underwear?”

There was an abrupt pause before Peter laughed weakly.

“Are you not? Didn’t even notice.” His pulse thumped in hisgroin where his dick was stiffening.

“There wasn’t any surplus space under the shorts,” sheexplained.

He stepped aside and nodded towards the bed.

“I can take a look from another angle,” he offered. “Try to,uh, solve this for you.”

She stared at him. Peter knew how difficult it must havebeen for his girlfriend not to roll her eyes, but she was―ironically for thissituation―a good sport and played along.

“And how am I supposed to bend my knees to get on the bed?”

He frowned momentarily, then wrapped his arms around herthighs, right below her ass, and lifted, depositing her on her knees.

“Thanks, Parker.”

“Full-service job.”

With that, he practically lunged to retrieve a condom fromthe hollow book, then snapped it shut again. He stood behind her, breathinghard and unfastening his jeans with clumsy fingers―even the most dexteroushands could fumble in this kind of scenario. MJ tugged the jersey over her headand flung it aside. She leaned forward onto her hands as Peter matched her inpartial nudity, only bothering to get his own jeans and boxers halfway downbefore unrolling the condom on his cock and stroking in light passes. After asecond, he thought to remove his shirt as well. His shaky hand ran up the backof MJ’s thigh and he heard her heart-skipping inhale.

“Such a shame they didn’t fit,” he lied blatantly, givingthe band of her shorts a little snap.

“I know,” she said. “What a waste of an afternoon. Icould’ve let you stay at school and pine over football.”

They both laughed, but MJ’s choked off as Peter’s fingersslipped up to tease between her legs. He flipped his hand over, cupping her andpushing his fingertips up against her clit. With gentle strokes, subtlenudging, he felt her getting wet―and irritated.

“Taking your time?” MJ wondered, tone on edge. Her hairswept across her back to hang over her shoulder as she glanced at him withnarrowed eyes.

“Just getting ready,” he said with a grin.

“You look pretty ready to me.”

With an exaggerated lowering of her gaze, she zoned in onhis nude hips, his rigid condom-wrapped erection.

“Hey, we’re on the same side here,” Peter said with jokingdefensiveness, rubbing her more firmly. “I’m helping you get ready, former student-athlete. You never warmed up before agame? Never… stretched?”

As he said it, he shifted his hand, flipped it, and tuckedtwo fingers inside her, easing through her growing arousal. MJ moaned, facingforward with a twitch of her neck. The sound wasn’t sarcastic or fed-up. Peterkept going, curling and dragging his fingers as he withdrew them, then probingback in. Gradually, she began forcing her hips back against his hand; he feltfeverish, free hand scrubbing over the hot back of his neck.  His girlfriend released a more demandinggroan and his hand landed on her lower back to hungrily caress her skin.

Peter felt her clenching around his fingers as she tried tostop him from removing them, but he did, then rotated his wrist to spreadwetness across her clit. MJ let out a high noise that gave him goosebumps. It alsogave him the urge to tilt his hips forward, pressing the length of his dick tothe back of her thigh.

“I fucking swear, if you don’t do it right now, you will never see me in shorts again.”

She panted the threat and the inflexibility in her voicemade him jump to comply. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to proceed anyway―he’djust been savouring the view.

Peter lined up while MJ nearly vibrated to hold still. As hepushed in deep (containing a huff of pleasure with his mouth clamped shut), allhis movement in his hips, she gradually sunk her upper body to the bed. Her bracedarms folded, taking her down to her elbows, then her forehead lowered to touchher hands. The slope of her body―from the highest point, where Peter took holdof her hips, to the lowest, where her wavy hair brushed across the sheet―madeit hard to catch his breath.

He rocked forward and back with light thrusts at first, butclearly he was doing something right, hitting something good; MJ’s first faintnoises blurred into an almost continuous sound that came from her throat. It crackedand broke and smoothed out again, in no way resembling her speaking voice,which was level to the point of flatness when she wanted it to be.

It was unbelievable to Peter―how tight she was like this,thighs prevented from spreading too wide by the tension of her shorts. Feeling alittle shy about it, he glance down at his hands, holding her hips in place,then lower, leaning back slightly to watch himself enter her. But that was toomuch. He was overwhelmed, could barely swallow. His heart raced as he curved hisbody over hers, hips jerking now to the disjointed repetition of his namecoming out of MJ’s mouth.

She reached a hand back, feeling around for his until Peterlinked their fingers. MJ brought their joined hands insistently to her chest,between her breasts, over her heart. Her palm was sweaty against his.

“Love you,” she gasped.

“Love you,” he panted back, wrapping his other hand aroundand under, finding and stroking her clit as hard and fast as Peter knew sheliked it.

MJ shivered and seized, hand squeezing his and Peter sped uphis thrusts until his climax caught up with hers, their rhythms as tense andadaptive as their twisting fingers. Coming out of the haze, she shuffledforward on her knees. It startled Peter, who almost tripped onto the mattress. Hecaught himself and carefully disposed of the condom in the garbage next to thedesk where she did her homework and drew all kinds of incredible stuff thatblew his mind.

He turned back to the bed to see her untangling the shortsfrom her legs. They laughed when their eyes met and Peter kicked off his jeansand boxers before bouncing down next to her.

“You’re ok?” he checked, laying his head back on his arm. MJdidn’t like to be snuggled up to, not right away, so he gave her space tostretch out her limbs.

“You weren’t too rough, if that’s what you’re asking,” sheassured him with an astute raise of her eyebrow. “Only my pride is injured.”

Before Peter had a chance to panic that she’d found itdemeaning―the position, the use of the shorts as a restraint, something he hadn’tthought of―MJ continued.

“I can’t believe I told you I played sports.”

“Just volleyball,” he said, quickly kissing her bareshoulder. She didn’t answer. “Just volleyball, M, right?”

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” she said evasively, strugglingto sit up. “Left my other clothes in the bathroom.”

The second she scooted to the edge of the mattress, shebolted and Peter scrambled to yank his boxers back on before racing after her.

“What else did you play?!”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #244

“you could stand me up at the gates of hell, but i won’t back down.”

What accent do you find most difficult to understand? Heavy southern. Has your music taste changed over the years? Not very. I do like more indie stuff now than I used to, though. What movie never fails to make you cry? The Notebook. What movies do you think need a sequel? Hm... I'm sure there's plenty, but they're evading me for now. Let's see... yeah idk. Do you have to see it to believe it? I mean it depends; see what exactly? But in general, yeah. I believe in spirits, maybe even auras, stuff like that. What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Food. Do you like 3D movies? Yeah, they're cool. Have you ever had breakfast in bed? Not the "my partner brought me food and it's romantic" type of way; I've just eaten breakfast food in bed. Have you ever practiced kissing on a stuffed animal? No, that's always been. p wild to me. Do you still talk to your childhood friends? A few. True/False: You live with your parents. Just one. At the dinner table do you always sit in the same chair? We rarely eat at the table, but generally, yes. Is your signature legible? I think so. Have you met any bands/singers? No. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. Do you know someone that looks better as they age? *shrugs* Do you know the order of the colors of the rainbow? Yes. Do you sometimes wish you were the opposite gender? No. Have you ever kissed a picture? of who? I don’t think so. Did/do you distract your teachers to get them to tell you stories? I didn't really speak in class unless I was pretty sure I had the answer to a question or had a serious question myself. Who makes you feel like you’re worth something? My mom, more than anyone. Do you remember a lot of your childhood? Yeah. I have a crazy vivid long-term memory. How many pets is too many? Depends on available space as well as what you can afford to care for sufficiently. Do you stare at dead people in a movie to see if you can catch them moving? lol no. Does your hand fit inside a Pringles container? Probably. I can curl my thumb really inward to make space. Do you know who your maid of honor/best man will be? Sara, unless I end up marrying her lmao. In that case, it'd be Mom. If you had the opportunity to be famous, would you take it? I don't like the term "famous" for me personally, but rather "well-known" for a photographer. What is your favorite healthy snack? Strawberries, I guess? What is the best song by your favorite artist/band? I HAVE TO???????? PICK???????????? Oh jeez. At least right now, "Time" is one that I hold incredibly close to my heart and usually brings me to tears because it reminds me of Teddy. It's just a beautiful song. I'd say overall, probably "Trap Door." It's cool as hell. How many times did your phone ring today? None. What theme do you want for your wedding? Halloween/fall-ish. How much do you spend a month on make-up? Nothing. Do you have any of your future children’s names picked out? I don't want kids, but if I did, Alessandra Quinn is the girl and my spouse cannot argue, and I'd love Damien Vance or Damien Victor for a boy. What was your favorite childhood meal? Spaghetti. Would you ever date someone over the internet? I don't *think* I'd do it again, no, unless it was Sara and we were actually making arrangements to move in together ASAP. Do you find it hard to believe that a dinosaur was once right where you are? No, but rather cool as hell. What is your favorite part of the movie “The Lion King”? The intro (up to where the title pops up, not just NAAAAAAAAAAAAASEBENYAAAAAAAAAAA). It's just... magical. I, without fail, get goosebumps all over and smile. Do you have any bug bites atm? No. Do you knock before entering someone’s room? Yeah. What was the last thing you shot in the garbage? Like, shot as a basketball? Probably just paper or something. Would you freak out if you saw a spider crawling on you right now? Fuck yes I would. Who did you last call beautiful? Venus, my snake. Have you ever used a tanning bed? Nooooooo. Do you think people will eventually stop believing in God? Oh, absolutely not. The belief in some sort of higher power has evolved since the dawn of civilization, so why would it stop? Do you and your best friend have the same favorite band? No. Do you prefer watching movies or playing video games? Vidya games. Have you ever been go-cart racing? Ha ha yeah, fun. Up in NY with my cousins. How many jobs have you had in your life? Three. Does your shower have a door or curtains? Two curtains. Do you have any posters of your favorite band on your walls? Metallica and Manson, yeah. Are you good at remembering names? NOOOOOOOO. Have you been outside today? No. Have you ever walked the opposite direction on an escalator? No. When making pancakes, do you try to make cool shapes/pictures? No. Do you use your hand when you’re explaining something? Oh yeah. Do you play a lot of video games? Not anymore, really. I would, but I can't afford a new console. I want a PS4 super badly (hell, even a PS3) to play new games, especially ones I haven't seen let's plays of. You can only replay a game so many times before you get bored, y'know? The only game I play regularly is WoW and that's because it has like... endless content to do. Who is your favorite Disney princess? Probably Jasmine. What word do you hate that people use often? (yolo, derp..) None off the top of my head. I just don't care. When was the last time you had hiccups? Idr. Have you ever thrown up from drinking too much alcohol? No. Do you ever buy the same piece of clothing, just in different colors? No. What is the last movie you saw in a theater? The live action The Lion King, I think. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't think I even have one... I know Mom was talking about opening me up one, but like, why. I don't make an income. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Oh sure. Do you attend church regularly? I never go. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? Good. Shit. They have THE best chocolate milkshakes. Do you tend to worry a lot? Only always! How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Idr. Do you remember your first time on the internet? Not really, no. Which website do you email from? Hotmail. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Yeah. Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? Idk. Have you ever had the flu? No, knock on wood. What about strep throat? Yeah. Would you ever consider going on a cruise? No. What is your biggest insecurity? My more "different" interests/hobbies. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never. Have you ever had a terrible hangover? No. Do you ever get migraines? Rarely. Do you know how to garden? I mean, I could put it together... What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? A phone charger. Do people consider you to be a funny person? I don't know. Do you like children? No. If not, why is this? I'm just... uncomfortable and feel like I'm playing with slime against my will or some shit any time I'm in their presence. I don't like how they stare, I don't like how rude they can be, I hate how demanding they are of attention (YES, I am aware that is healthy behavior for the baby of a social species, I just can't provide it), they ask too many questions... I have a lot of reasons I don't like them. Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? No. What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? YouTube, I guess? Does the future excite you or scare you? Both. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don't want to think on this. How many huge secrets do you have? I don't know about *huge* secrets... How many people know these secrets? ^ How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Do you ever floss? Not really, oops. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? Two. Ever considered suicide? Yes. If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No. Do you like texting or calling people more? TEXTING. Don't call me omg. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yeah. When did you last babysit, if ever? I actually did last week in an emergency situation with my nephew. I was the one and only person capable due to everyone being sick. I was scared as shit and very anxious the whole time, but I did it. Ultimately, it was a good bonding experience for us. Do you have any younger siblings? Yes, one sister. Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I'm sure I've thought of myself like that before. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Not to remain blonde, no, but I did that on the occasion I dyed it purple, I think. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Well of course. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, it doesn't appeal to me. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I don't know or care. Where is your favorite place to travel? Mountainous and wooded areas. What is your goal for the next few months? Do well in school, get back into driving, maybe get a job I can actually handle. Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? German, yeah. And I think Spanish. Have you ever played on a sports team before? Yeah. If you have, what was that sport and when? All of these are from when I was a young kid. T-ball/softball, basketball, cheerleading, soccer... I think that's it? Oh wait, dance for many years as a pre-teen/teen. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you think you’re a good singer? Not really. Do you think you have a good sense of style? I don't care. What matters is I myself like what I wear. Do you enjoy reading often? No... but I want to get back into it. Have you ever had a deadly illness? No, thank goodness. Ever had food-poisoning before? No. Where did you last eat dinner at? Like, eat out? I think it was a local Mexican restaurant with Mom and the sis. Have you ever shot a gun before? No. Where do you apply cologne or perfume? My neck and just generally around my torso. I don't really pay attention to exactly where. What completely and totally disgusts you and turns you off? Disrespect is what came to mind first this instance. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? I'unno. Do you take surveys hoping someone will see your answers or just ‘because’? Just because. It's a time-killer and a way for me to just. Talk. Not at anyone, just to get thoughts out of my head. It's therapeutic to me. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate or vanilla, depending on my mood. What diet could you never do? "Raw." <<<< Yeah. Do you have a curfew? No, not that I ever leave the house. Do you actually like your job? N/A What is the last song you sang? I think it was "Ordinary Man" by Ozzy feat. Elton John. GOD I am ready for this album. Describe the best kiss you’ve ever experienced: Bro idk I've had a lot of those and I've never like ranked them in my head. Think to the last time someone said thank you to you, what had you done to earn it? I commented on my friend's picture that she was fUCKING BEAUTIFUL. Grab your cellular. When did you last receive a text message? Like three hours ago. Is there anything that’s worrying you at the moment? Just a lot. Honestly, do you wish there was someone still in your life who used to be but for whatever reason isn’t anymore? I mean yeah, there' s multiple people like that. Who in your household do you not have a good relationship with? My sister's dog. Who in your life are you scared to lose more than anything? Mom.

[l-o-g-l-a-d-y]

The Short List

Summary: 

“Kid, you know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names. “Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy...and you. You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list." Iron Man is retired but Tony Stark will never stop playing superhero for his kids. Or Peter Parker has a high school diploma and not a lick of common sense. Set three years post- Endgame. Featuring retired Tony and walking disaster Peter Parker.  

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970351

Tony did not know what he did in a past life to deserve the sort of hell Peter Parker was putting him through.

It had been a normal Friday night when, for the first time in a long time, he was awoken by his AI with an urgent message.

“Boss, I am receiving an incoming message from Karen. Peter Parker is experiencing a medical emergency.”

Well, that woke him up. Beside him, Pepper stirred awake, brow furrowed in concern.

He threw the blankets off himself and scrambled to get out of bed “FRI, what happened?”

“He appears to be suffering from a severe cranial injury. Karen’s scans are reading a 7mm epidural hematoma. The bleed has stopped but the pressure against his frontal lobe and optical nerve is increasing.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face, slapping the long unused nanite arc reactor on his chest.

“Where?”

“The midtown safe house.”

Tony whirled back around to share a confused look with Pepper. The safe house had been a byproduct of his post Battle of New York paranoia, a place to regroup nearby should the tower be overrun again. He had never dismantled it, but he had forgotten it among newer, safer, alternatives. He knew for certain he had never told the Spider-Kid about it.

“The midtown safe house?” he pressed a kiss to Pepper’s head.

“Correct, Boss.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a flight plan. Don’t wait up for me, Honey!” He called over his shoulder while rushing out the door.

Tony had hung up the suit following the final Snap, all but forced into early retirement by the loss of his arm and the desire to settle down with his family. In doing so he never bothered to re-establish himself in New York City. Instead, Peter and Harley came out to the lake house on a semi-regular basis. Peter had recently graduated high school and was still adjusting to college life at NYU, so he saw his arach-kid a lot less than he would like. It was all a part of growing up, he knew, so despite the distance, Tony had eliminated some of the training wheels protocols to give the boy some space to grow. Something he was deeply regretting right then.

“How far out am I now?”

“10 minutes 42 seconds.”

“Call Peter.”

Tense seconds past before F.R.I.D.A.Y could respond “No response.”

“Fine, have Karen do another scan and get me there in five minutes.”

***

It was 12 hours later and a clusterfuck later that he found himself helping his beloved idiot walk out of the ER where they had met Dr. Cho. When Tony had first arrived on the scene, Peter had been in no shape to make the trip to the compound medbay. Tony had directed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get him to the nearest hospital and do whatever it took to have Dr. Cho meet them there as soon as possible. It had been touch and go for the first hour. The hospital was ill-prepared to treat an enhanced patient that metabolized medications as fast as they could be administered. They didn’t exactly have protocols for letting an unfamiliar doctor commandeer the operating room or for letting a patient walk out the door eight hours after having their skull cracked open.  It had taken a lot of bluffing and abuse of his privilege as that guy who saved the universe to get it done. He was getting a headache thinking of all the paperwork he would have to fudge to keep the kid’s secret identity intact.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Peter was still behind him and rolled his eyes at the sad picture he made. Peter was trudging up the hallway to the safehouse, now sporting a six-inch-long bald spot behind his left ear and approximately 20 staples.

Shouldering the door open Tony allowed himself to take in the safe house in greater detail than he had that morning. All in all, it looked like any large, empty, upper-class apartment, except for the Spidey suit on the floor of the bathroom, a backpack with a duct-taped strap, and Peter’s laptop perched at the kitchen bar.

Tony gestured to one of the barstools by the counter and let Peter sit while he proceeded to the hall closet. It was stocked with mostly expired medical supplies and a few emergency odds and ends. He popped an instant icepack, wrapped it in a washcloth and handed both to Peter to place over his swollen cheek with a wince.

“Do you want to tell me what you were doing here?” Tony started. His tone was sharper than he had intended. He saw Peter tense but he left the floor open for him to speak.

“I told you, I had heard about some messed up drug being distributed to clubs across the city. When I looked into it I realized they weren’t just peddling drugs, but weapons,-“ Peter looked away guilty “and people.” That should have been the first clue that he was in over his head.

“So, I’m just supposed to be thrilled you decided to take down a drug cartel and human trafficking ring all by your lonesome?” Tony interjected.

Peter bit his lip the way he always did before spilling his guts. “Uh, well no, technically not. Uhm…It turns out that Deadpool had been tracking the leader of this group too, so we teamed up to-“

Tony held up his hand.

“I’m sorry did you say Deadpool?” he said in mock disbelief “Am I going deaf in my old age? I know I couldn’t possibly have heard you say Deadpool, because I know you have been explicitly warned about that guy by S.H.I.E.L.D., by every hero operating in New York, and me.”

Peter frowned the way he always did before giving a heartfelt and utterly stupid argument.

“Look, I know he has a bad past but he’s really trying to turn over a new leaf! And I’ve been helping! He hasn’t killed anyone in months and Ms. Nat did it so- ”

“Hey, tt tt tt! Let me stop you right there. Natasha’s mental health and loyalty were carefully vetted over a period of years by a massive intelligence agency. You have been kadoodling about with a contract killer on the basis of a pinky promise to do better. There’s a difference.”

Peter gritted his teeth at the word kadoodle but figured he ought to pick his battles if he was going to get through the story.

“We teamed up. Apparently, someone from Sister Margret’s, which it turns out is NOT a school but a really gross bar that Deadpool hangs out at, had leaked that Deadpool and Spider-Man were onto them. It was basically an ambush, except we didn’t know it was an ambush, and Karen couldn’t tell that it was an ambush, but my spidey senses warned me at the last second. But by then, Deadpool had just charged right in! Before I could stop him! I couldn’t just leave him in there!”

Tony’s snort of derision made his opinion on that matter perfectly clear.

“So, I had to get him out.  They had way too many guns, and this ridiculously big dude in there. He was some kind of ‘enhanced’ situation though, ‘cause when he hit me it was like being punched by a rhino or something. He got a lucky shot to the back of my head when I was trying to yank Deadpool out of the line of fire. I think I greyed out because the next thing I know, Deadpool had me over one shoulder and he was shooting over the other. He managed to get us out onto a neighboring roof but I couldn’t swing us anywhere” He gave a weak attempt at a self-deprecating grin “it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Tony scoffed. Peter watched the knuckles of Tony’s right hand whiten and heard the minute whir of his mechanical hand tighten and quickly forged ahead.

“Anyway! I knew something was wrong but I hadn’t wanted him to know where I lived or make him try to get me to  the compound, so I had him help me get here and I figured I should probably have a friend around to keep an eye on the situation so-“ Ohhh that was the wrong thing to say. A fire seemed to flare in Tony’s eyes.

“EXCUSE ME? I think you mean a MERCENARY! A very dangerous mercenary who you should not even know!”

“Mr. Stark, I know Wade is sorta-“

“Oh, Wade is it? You had your good buddy, Wade, drop you off at a safe house I haven’t even used in a half dozen years to do what exactly? Sleep off a brain hemorrhage!?”

Peter had not seen this level of ire out of Tony since the Ferry Incident of 2017. It seemed a little unfair since he had called Tony once he realized he was out of his depth.

“Mr. Stark, I swear, I didn’t know how bad it was! And I called you, didn’t I?” Well, Karen called. And not so much once he saw that he was out of his depth so much as he when he started losing time and puking.

“I’m technically 23! I thought it was time to try- “ Tony cut him off.

“No! Functionally, you are 18, you’ve said yourself you don’t remember the Snap so none of that counts! 18 means you get to go to big boy prison and vote.  It does not mean you know jack crap about head injuries!”

Pick your battles, Peter… “Besides, Wade stayed until Karen said you were coming. He wanted to make sure I didn’t die, but I had told him not to stick around for you to get here.”

“You should have called me! First! Thing! Or Dr. Cho! Hell, call Dr. Strange!”

“I’ve been hit in the head loads of times! I thought it was not so bad!”

Tony threw his hands up and turned around in exasperation then rounded on Peter again.

“Not so bad? I’d ask if you were brain damaged, but oh wait “Tony held his finger to his chin in a pantomime of thought “ that’s right YOU ARE!”

“Mr. Stark! C’mon-“

“You didn’t know your ass from your elbow when I got here.” Tony seethed. “You couldn’t form a sentence. Didn’t know who I was! Where we were! By the time we got to the hospital, you were completely non-responsive. It took sawing off part of your skull and scooping the blood out like jello for your healing to get enough of a head start to matter.”

Peter gulped but Tony wasn’t done. “What about May? What about me? Don’t we matter, kid?”

“You’re retired! I thought I could handle it! By the time I knew it was this bad it was too late. I’m sorry!”

“Retired!? Are you kidding? UGH!” Tony wanted to punch a wall but instead, he walked a few paces away and rubbed at this face exhaustedly. When he turned around, he took stock of what he saw. Peter looked a mess with a swollen face, pilfered MIT sweatpants, a worn out 2011 Stark Expo shirt, hospital socks, and a line of staples down his scalp like a Frankenstein monster.

Who let this idiot out into the world unsupervised? Uh-he did, apparently.

“Kid.” Peter looked up from the tile grout he’d been inspecting. “You know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” His voice had dropped to something more like his normal timbre.

With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names.

“Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy.”

He emphasized each name with another finger leaving his thumb tucked against his palm. His eyes met Peter’s desperate to get him to understand “and you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, wagging the thumb of his now open palm.

He rubbed his hand over his face again in an attempt to force a semblance of calm.

“You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list. You’re right, I am retired. Iron Man is the Earth’s absolute last line of defense, but no matter how old I am or how old you are I am always going to be the first line of defense for Peter Parker. Capisce?”

Peter felt his eyes start to burn. He didn’t know what to say. He was sorry?  He had felt like he was handling it responsibly at the time?

He didn’t trust his voice but swallowed against the ache in his throat to say “Maybe some of the people they were hurting are on someone’s short list too.”

Despite his best efforts, Tony saw right through the rapid blinking and Peter saw his shoulders drop as the last of the fight poured out of him.

Tony was way past the point in his life where he could hold this kid at arm’s length. He crossed the room in three steps to wrap his arms around Peter’s shoulders. Immediately he felt the kid shift to lean his weight against him, trusting him to hold him up while he clutched the back of his mentor’s jacket. He briskly kissed the top of Peter’s head and rested his chin atop the matted curls. Under all the bravado, the kid had scared himself too.

Silence passed between them except for the occasional sniff as Peter tried very hard to not cry. Tony held in a sigh. Pete still didn’t get it, he had nothing to prove to Tony.

“You know I invented time travel. Not to save the universe, mind you, but for your scrawny ass.” He paused “I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. I tried. For five years, I tried, and I couldn’t do it. Not when there was still a chance.”

“That’s a low blow, Mr. Stark” Peter’s voice sounded scratchy and wet but amused.

Tony huffed a laugh. “And I’m never gonna let you forget it.” He smiled and let Peter pull back a bit. He brushed sweaty hair from the kid’s face and winced at the swollen edges of Peter’s normally handsome face. He felt his smile turn sad.

“There are lots of ways for me to lose you faster than you can heal, Underoos.”

“I know ...I’m sorry.”

Tony blew out a frustrated breath. He knew what it was like now. From both sides. Peter was a hero. He was never going to stop trying to save lives. There was never going to be a day where Peter Parker could just sit idly by while the world went to shit.  He also now understood how a woman May’s age could have so many grey hairs and why Pepper blamed Tony for her Xanax prescription.

“You know, every day you remind me that I owe Pepper about a billion apologies.” He shook his head. “The things I put her through.” Peter smiled up at him bashfully.

“Speaking of Pepper,” Tony continued handing Peter the hoodie he’d left on the counter. “I gotta go back upstate. I have a lakeside dinner date with two lovely ladies.”

Peter stood as well “Tell them I say hi, will you?” Tony watched the kid pull a denim jacket on over the hoodie. He was pretty sure it belonged to Harley but Peter probably nicked it the last time he’d been to the lake house. The kid started triple layering as soon as the air turned the slightest bit brisk.

“I can do you one better. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Gee, I don’t know if I can go up there tonight. I have work tomorrow and-“

“Looking like Frankenstein? I don’t think so. How are you going to explain to triple-J how that mess is gone by Wednesday?”

“Frankenstein’s monster.” Peter corrected shoving his laptop into the ratty backpack. “Besides, I don’t want to upset Morgan showing up looking like this.”

Tony shrugged. “She’s a tough cookie. She’ll probably want to play doctor. I should warn you her medical case is fully stocked with holographic Iron Man band-aids.”

Peter laughed “I should be so lucky as to receive such quality medical care.” He shook his head “Sure why not? But I gotta be back to pick May up from the airport Tuesday night.”

“Deal.” He glanced down at Peter’s socks “Ya still need shoes, bud.”

Peter trotted off to the bathroom to grab his shoes and spidey suit. Everything back to normal. As normal as they got anyway.

Tony called after him “Doesn’t Hot May know I owe her a thousand favors for encouraging her nephew to pursue a career in vigilante justice? She literally has access to a private jet.”

Peter shrugged as he did a once over of the apartment to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

“I don’t think that’s her style.”

“She could have Happy be her chauffeur,” Tony replied in a sing-song.

“Ughh! Mr. Stark, don’t encourage them! It’s bad enough they like to do date night at our apartment. Where does Happy even live?”

Tony held the door for Peter, laughing, and basked in the light-hearted glare Peter threw over his shoulder.

Once inside the elevator Peter gently brushed his shoulder against his mentor’s. “Thanks for bailing me out, Tony.”

The elder wrapped his arm around his kid’s shoulder. “Any time, Underoos.”

[thepatricktreestump]

My Entire World: Tom Holland imagine

A/N: i wrote this one for @fuckyou-imspiderman co-author thingy but i decided to post it on my personal so they can just reblog it from here to keep things easy and so i can see which of y’all are my tom holland stans haha

ask: could you do a imagine were you are the person playing peter parkers love interest in spiderman hoco 2 and it's time for the kiss with tom and you get all nervous. you chose the ending bc i'm a indecisive person and can't chose a ending. thank you - @graceisobsessed 

As soon as you saw the role, you knew you just had to audition. You had been a Marvel fan for literally years, and for as long as you could remember, you found yourself staying up late at night flipping through comics or re-watching one of the movies. You were so close to getting the role of MJ in the first movie, but the director had told you that there was a “slight change of plans” and you were moved to an extra instead. Which sucked. But you couldn’t really be mad, because of all actresses, they picked Zendaya to fill your spot. And well, Zendaya was, Zendaya. So instead, you took a deep breath and grit your teeth, playing as one of the people in the background silently. That was, until you realized that they were coming out with a second movie, and for some reason, she wasn’t available for filming, and they were taking new actresses for the part. You knew deep down that MJ stood for Mary Jane Watson, Spider-Man’s future love interest and wife. That meant extra screen time as the trilogy went on, as well as big bucks, especially now that you’d be filling someone like Zendaya’s shoes.

With lots of luck, you scored the role, beaming ear to ear upon hearing the news. You were ecstatic to be part of the main cast this time around and made it a priority to make the crew proud. You showed up early to script readings and interviews and meetings, being sure that you memorized all your lines and listened to critiques. Working with everyone was so much fun, especially Tom. He was so sweet and lighthearted, had a great sense of humor, and always kept his head up, no matter how many times it took to shoot a scene. Your makeup team was doing some touch ups when he came waltzing over, sporting the red and blue spiderweb covered suit, lazy smile on his face.

“What did you think?” he asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Did you see? I got it in just a couple takes!”

“I saw,” you giggled. “You did really well.”

“They didn’t even have to pull in my stunt double!” Tom explained. “I just- pew, pew, shoot, shoot, roll, roll- you know? Awesome!” He made overexcited hand motions along with his ridiculous silly sound effects, making you only laugh even more. He was like a little puppy bouncing around, wide eyed and eager to tell you everything.

“You did really good,” you complimented. “I’m proud of you.”

“P-proud of me?” he raised an eyebrow, flustered, slight blush rising to his cheeks. “Well gosh, thanks y/n. Haha, you did a really good job too!”

“Thanks,” you give a small grin. “Ready to turn in for the day? I think we have only one more scene to wrap up and then we’re done. Well, until tomorrow. God we have to wake up so early for that one take.”

“Ugh I know,” he groans. “But hey, you’ll be there! And I will too! So we can just suffer together, you know?”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, stifling a chuckle. “Come on, let’s get this last scene so I can take a nap.”

Shooting the scene wasn’t too bad, and after a couple of takes, they handed you the parts you’d be doing tomorrow and sent you home. Tom gave you a happy wave before taking off into his ride, and you nodded with a smile, then plopped the script in the shotgun seat and began to drive home. You stopped at a red light, then heard your phone buzz, picking it up and beaming when you read the text. It was from Tom, and he was thanking you for putting up with him during filming today. You laughed aloud as you quickly began to explain to him through typing that he didn’t have to say such things because you enjoyed being around him, then hit send before the light turned green.

There was something about him that you couldn’t help but love. Maybe it was how his laughter was contagious, his smile made your stomach fill with butterflies, and every time he complimented you, your heart skipped a beat. But you could never tell him -or tell anyone, for that matter. It was one thing to have a crush on a celebrity, but to have a crush on a celebrity that you knew personally and were working with? No way. It would be the end for you embarrassment wise, create a weird vibe between your coworker, and if the media got wind of it, millions of articles and tabloids and tweets. It would just be a mess, and you liked Tom too much as a friend to ever lose him just over a silly crush.

You were folding your laundry at home when you caught eye of your phone flashing his name across the screen, requesting for a Facetime call. Sometimes you would text or call, and even Facetime. Especially since you had a lot of shooting time together, you guys had bonded and created a great friendship, so it wasn’t awkward or just business. In fact, you liked to just have conversation or even read through the script for the next day for extra practice. Upon picking up your phone, you found yourself rolling your eyes, wondering what he might want this time, and then accepted it upon fixing your hair in the screen for a couple seconds. “Hey! What’s up?” you greeted, cheery. As much as you sometimes tried, you still couldn’t match his enthusiasm and classic sunshine smile.

“Nothing much. I just had a snack and decided to play some video games,” he explained. He seemed anxious, but you didn’t know about what. “Thought I’d call you up. And you?”

“Folding laundry,” you waved a sweater onto the screen and he smiled.

“By far being much more responsible and productive than I am,” he teased.

“Yeah I haven’t even read the script for tomorrow yet,” you admitted, and that’s when he scratched back of his head, something you realized he did when he was hesitant about something.

“Well uh, that’s kind of the next question I was about to ask you,” he gave a nervous laugh and you raise an eyebrow, curious. Although both of you had already skimmed and read the entire script at the first few meetings before production, you were sure there wasn’t anything to be too nervous about besides certain stunts or tricky scenes.

“Why? Did they change something last minute?” you asked.

“Oh! No, not at all,” he reassured. “It’s just uh, I don’t know, it’s really stupid. I’m like a school boy getting all worked up over this, gosh.”

“Oh,” you turn red at the realization. “It’s the kiss scene, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he let out another nervous laugh and looks away. “I don’t know, just thought that I’d give you a heads up. In case you wanted to bring me a mouthwash or something tomorrow.”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed playfully at his joke. “You are such a clown, Tom!”

“Sorry, bad joke,” he let out a giggle, something genuine, which made you smile. However, you weren’t at ease at all. The idea of kissing him tomorrow still lingered in the back of your mind.

“So uh, you want to do it in one take?” you offered and he blinked, confused. “I mean, so you don’t have to make it uncomfortable or whatever, I don’t know-” you began to ramble on and he frowned.

“Oh, I mean, I guess,” he stammered. “If you want to, I mean, I wouldn’t want you to have to kiss me any more times than you already have to.”

“Right,” you regretted the word as soon as it left your mouth. No! Now he thought you probably hated him.

“Okay,” he looked a little bummed but clouded it with a fake smile. You felt weird inside. Did you offend him by accident? You cringed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know this is weird-” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s okay,” he insisted. “Your boyfriend would probably get angry at me anyways. I’m the one who called, I’m sorry I made it awkward, uh, I’ll just talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” He speaks so fast you can barely even respond and before you know it he’s gone.

You sigh, frustrated and exhausted by the conversation. You didn’t mean it that way. And why would he mention your boyfriend? You didn’t even have a boyfriend! Did he know that? The sudden thought came to you. Both of you hadn’t mentioned your love lives, no wonder he was probably so nervous for the scene. If only he knew you liked him, that would make things a hundred times worse. Maybe it was better to fake a relationship, for Tom’s sake. But at the same time, you were so head over heels for him, you couldn’t even imagine being with anyone else.

When you showed up the next day to set, Tom was in a corner on his phone, another nervous tick you recognized he did, avoiding eye contact with others by scrolling through his Instagram. “Hey,” you approached him, swallowing down your anxiety. “Ready for the big shoot today?”

“Yup,” he smiled, looking up from his phone. He looked confident, cheery, happy. Maybe you were wrong about your assumption. “How about you?”

“If I’m honest, I’m kind of nervous,” you admitted. “I haven’t really kissed a whole lot of people before.”

“Well I’m right with you on that one,” he smiled. “So we can learn together, right?”

“Wait. Really?” you tilted your head to the side, confused. “But you’re like, the whole eye candy you know? Girls go wild for you.”

“Doesn’t mean they want to date me,” he shrugged. “No matter how many people tweet that they do, they don’t really know me you know? If that makes any sense.”

“I guess,” you hummed. “But I’m sure even if they did, they still would.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head.

“But you’re funny,” you argued. “And sweet, and handsome, and caring, and amazing, and you’re so much fun to be around and-”

“Guys! Get on set! Time to film!” the director shouted. “We don’t have time to blab! We have to get going!”

“U-uh okay,” Tom stuttered out, still shocked by your words.

You were ushered into your proper places for the makeup and costume crew to get a start on getting you ready and in a couple minutes you met Tom in front of the set where you were about to film. Both of you didn’t say anything except exchanged nervous smiles and stood where they instructed and went over lines until you heard the director tell you it was time to film. A nervous feeling bubbled up inside of your stomach, making you feel queasy.

“Superpowers or not, I still care about you,” you recited the line as you had memorized, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek as the script had instructed. You knew it was wrong to think about it romantically in reality, but you couldn’t help it. You liked him so much you just wanted this so bad, and to finally have it, scripted or not, felt like a dream.

“You do?” his expression softened.

“Of course,” you whispered. “I’ve always cared about you, Peter.”

“I thought you hated me MJ,” he confessed. “I didn’t think that you’d ever-”

“Oh shut up and kiss me, Peter,” you rolled your eyes, interrupting him in perfect time. You were about to lean in for the kiss when the director interrupted.

“Cut!” he shouted. “Hold up, I want some more emotion. Some more action, alright? Tom, maybe some more surprise? Y/n, a little more passion? Okay, let’s take that again.”

You cleared you throat, a bit flustered, then returned to your original position, waiting to hear your signal. “Superpowers or not, I still care about you,” you repeated the line, staring into his eyes, putting a hand up to reach his face when he surprised you, catching your wrist.

“Scripted or not, do you care about me?” his expression softened once again, but this time, much more genuine.

“W-what?” you stuttered, taken aback.

“Cut! Hey guys, not on the script!” the director called out, but Tom shook his head.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this without trying to fool myself that it’s real,” he insisted. “I need you to tell me, not MJ, but you y/n. I need you to tell me. Do you really care about me? Enough to kiss me even if it isn’t scripted or acted or anything? Do you like me the same way I like you?”

“Tom-” your voice got caught in your throat.

“It’s okay if you don’t, but I just need to know,” he told you. “Please.”

“Guys we really don’t have time for this!” the director insisted but you ignored everyone else in the room and kissed him, right then and there, pressing his lips to yours, his entire face turning bright red. You pulled away, your face turning the exact same shade.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I do care about you, Tom. So much. So very much.”

“Really?” he broke out into a huge smile. “For real?”

“Of course,” you laughed. “Definitely.”

“Can we please just get on with the-”

“Yes!” both of you cut the director off with a burst of giggles. “Yeah, yeah, we can!”

“Alright,” he groaned. “Come on, lovebirds. This shot better be good.”

And it was. Every single take you put as much passion into it as you could, and so did Tom. The directors and crew were all for it, and even at sometimes had to pull you two apart because you sort of got lost in the moment. It felt like the best day of your life, like you could do anything in the entire world. “Want to hang out after shooting today?” you gave a small smile.

“Want to?” he raised his eyebrows. “More like need to.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes. “Good to know.”

“And hey,” he poked you in the arm playfully. “You know I’ve always felt this way about you, alright? It’s not just cause of the kiss scene today. I really do care about you.”

“As do I,” you smiled. “There’s always been something about you, Tom. And I’ve been so scared to tell you how I truly feel, because I was terrified deep down that you’d never feel the same way.”

“Well lucky you,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Because I do. I feel the exact same way if not more.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means the world.”

“You,” he looked into your eyes, giving a small smile. “You are my entire world.”

“Thanks,” you mouthed.

“Now come on,” he nudged you softly. “We still have a couple more scenes to go.”

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Faith

Written for @jonsansasource's JonSansaWeek Day 5: Faith or War or Peace

Jon knows better than to believe in fortune tellers, but what if they do tell the truth? He takes a leap of faith and Sansa makes it worth it.

Modern AU

“Really, Jon?” Robb crossed his arms over his chest while he watched how Jon sat down on the green bench in the middle of central park. “After all this time you still believe that that stupid woman at the fun fair was right?” Robb shook his head. “But hey, whatever you want. It’s your life you’re throwing away.” He turned around but looked over his shoulder once more before he disappeared around the corner. “If you change your mind, you know where we are, right?”

Jon nodded and he opened his backpack to grab the book he was reading.

He had tried to convince himself over and over again that he should just let it go, that he was acting on the lies of a fake fortune teller. He had tried to force himself to go after Robb, to the football field to practice with the rest of the team even though the summer holiday had not ended yet and the season had not started again. He had wanted to ignore that little voice in his mind, telling him that he just had to have a little faith.

If he just had a little faith, all would be well.

At least waiting for the woman of his dreams on the old green bench in the middle of central park had done miracles for his reading challenge. During the last few months he had read more books than he had read in an entire year so far.

“Hey…” Sansa slowed down while she neared him. She had a smile on her face and her bright red hair, tied in a bun on top of her head, danced in the wind. Her forehead and skin was covered in sweat, but somehow she still looked beautiful. “Still spending your afternoons here instead of with your team?”

Jon looked up from his book and he nodded. “We play football all year. I just wanna do something else for a while. I’ll be busy enough with the team as soon as school starts again.”

“I’m not sure if your coach will agree with your slacking and spending your time with your nose in a book instead of running and training.” Sansa sat down next to him and she folded her arms around the bench to enjoy the warm rays of the sun. “I know that if I’d come back after the summer holiday without having at least a three miles run a day, my coach will be absolutely furious with me.”

Jon closed his book and placed it next to him. “I've seen you running around here every day. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I won’t.” Sansa closed her eyes and leaned back to bath in the summer sun even more. Her legs were long and smooth and Jon resisted to urge to touch them with the tips of his fingers. “But if you won’t get your ass of that bench soon, you will.”

Jon shrugged. “There are more important things than football.” Like meeting the girl of his dreams, like that fortune teller had promised him. Like running into the girl that would conquer his heart and would never let go again for the rest of their shared lives.

“Maybe.” Sansa agreed and opened her eyes again. “But those things won’t get you into college. Unless you have hidden talents I know nothing about, of course.”

Jon grinned.

Sansa was a couple of years younger than him, but her confidence went way beyond the amount of confidence he would ever get himself. She knew how to walk and how to talk, but without the arrogance that most other confident girls seemed to combine with it. She had a perfect taste when it came to fashion, but without showing off that she was born into a wealthy family and had more pennies to spend than most others. And most of all: she was kind hearted, warm and welcoming, despite the fact that she was slowly growing into the queen bee of the entire school.

“You don’t know everything about me, Sansa.” Jon shook his head and laid out his arms on the bench too, accidentally touching Sansa’s hand.

“You don’t know everything about me either, Jon.” Sansa stuck out her tongue and a chuckle escaped his lips.

He knew a lot more than she probably wanted him to know. It came for free with being best friends with her brother and sharing way too many details while they changed into or out of their sports attire in the locker room. Jon had never told Robb, but secretly Sansa was his favorite subject to talk about.

“Fine.” Sansa turned towards him and she crossed her legs. “You can ask me one question and I will answer honestly. In return I can ask you one question which you’ll have to answer honestly.” The mischievous smile on her face and the glimmering of her eyes should have given away that she was up to something, but Jon took a deep breath and decided to just take a leap of faith. Another one.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I go first.” He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows. The frown on his forehead deepened and a few times he opened his mouth to say something, before he closed it again because he had changed his mind.

But eventually he had to break the silence and had to come up with something. “What’s your biggest fear? And I don’t mean the spider or heights kinda one.” Jon almost tripped over his own words. “I mean that real fear, deep down.” Like not being good enough. Like never finding someone who would love him. Like being the best friend and guy next door for the rest of his life. Like never being anyone special.

Sansa’s smile faded. Her confidence disappeared and for a moment she all of a sudden seemed like the young girl she still was. “I fear so many things.” She whispered. “I’m afraid that none of the dreams I had as a kid will come true, that I won’t marry, that I won’t become a mother, that I won’t get my happily ever after.” She bent her head and avoided his glance, staring at the runners running past them and the children playing in the pool. “I fear falling in love, because I’m afraid that he won’t love me back and that I’ll get my heart broken into a thousand little pieces.” Sansa licked her dry lips. “I fear being bullied because I’m smart and intelligent. I fear guys not looking at me as dating material, because I’m so much more than just a pretty dumb thing they can control and command.”

Jon moved a little closer towards her. He wasn’t sure if he was actually thinking about doing it, or if his body was already doing it before his mind came up with the idea. “Why would you be afraid of all those things?” He shook his head in utter disbelief. “Any man not loving you for who you are would be downright stupid!” He raised his voice and he felt his cheeks heating up. “You're amazing and perfect and really…” Jon scratched the back of his neck. “Like I said, you’ll find someone.” He swallowed and Sansa locked her glance with his for a short moment.

It felt as if she was attempting to look straight into his soul, but strangely enough it wasn’t unpleasant or uncomfortable. It was pleasant and nice and filled with curiosity.

“What's the true reason you spend every day of your summer holiday here on this specific bench?” Sansa changed the subject all of a sudden and Jon cleared his throat.

“Honestly?”

Sansa rolled her eyes.

“Remember that fortune teller on that fun fair at the end of the school year?” Jon waited until Sansa nodded. “She read the palm of my hand and told me that I’d meet the girl of my dreams and my future wife here, in central park, right in the middle.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It sounds kinda stupid, but this bench is right in the middle and I thought, it doesn’t hurt to try and have a little faith, right?”

Sansa’s lips curled up into a smile. “Did you meet her yet?”

“You only got to ask one question.” Jon whispered.

“Let’s do one more.” Sansa cocked her head. “Did you already meet her?”

Jon thought about it for a short moment. “I guess I did meet the girl of my dreams, yeah. I just don’t know if she wants to be.” He avoided her glance and nervously his fingers tapped on the old wood of the bench.

“Ask her.” Sansa spoke firmly and with a shock Jon looked up.

“What?”

“You have one more question to ask. Just ask her.” Sansa smiled and Jon felt his heart hammering in his chest.

He kinda knew that she wouldn’t let him ask the question if she was gonna break his heart or something, but still he had to gather all his courage to actually say the words out loud. “So…” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Would you wanna go out with me and see if you’re the girl I’m gonna marry one day?”

Sansa laughed, her laugh sounding more beautiful than the best song Jon had ever heard. “Yes.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his cheek. “Pick me up at 7 tonight. I’ll make sure to have taken a shower.”

Before Jon could reply Sansa had already stood up and continued her run through the park.

“You don’t have to…” He said, even though she couldn’t hear him anymore. “I like you anyway.”

[dontshootmespence]

Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

Chapter 17

@veroinnumera and I are having a blast writing this and Derek and Juliet have so much more in store before we’re done. Let us know what you think!

                                                            -------

Derek had his feet up on the coffee table, eyes trained on a Chicago Bulls game. The refs were being idiots, as usual. His jacket pocket vibrated and he pulled out his phone, smiling when he saw Juliet’s number pop up. Without a second thought he picked up.

“Hey, you almost home? I need someone to get pissed about foul calls with me.” He chuckled.

A smooth, deep voice cut through the line. “I see Juliet’s taste has degraded. She used to scoff at professional sports.”

His heart leapt into his throat. “Who is this? Where is Juliet?”

Ice water ran through Derek’s face as the man spoke. “She’s right here with me. Just as beautiful as ever. Surely she’s told you about me. Or are things not as serious between you as I had hoped?”

No.

“Carter what have you done with her?”

The low chuckle ran straight up Derek’s spine. He tuned into every sound to gain some clue as to where he might be. By the dull roar of an engine, he could tell they were in a car but that was about it. “So she has told you about me. I always knew I was the kind of man to make an impression.”

“You’re not a man at all,” Derek spat. “You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being.” The ice water in his blood turned to fire, threatening to burn him alive. He had to be careful with the language he used - anything could set Carter on the path to murder...if that wasn’t where his mind was already headed.

“I’m not the FBI agent who has turned out to have bricks for brains. Truly I’d been hoping for some more interesting opposition. But I guess I’ll have to make this more fun on my own since you’re so boring.” Carter sighed dismissively. “I’ll be speaking to you soon Agent Morgan. Goodbye.”

The line went dead and Derek nearly crumpled the phone in his grip. His entire body was shaking, whether it was more from fear or rage he couldn’t tell but it felt like an earthquake just for him. For a split second he just stood there, quivering, unable to move. But the adrenaline kicked in and he immediately called the people he trusted more than anything to help him figure this out.

“Prophet of the Feds speaking, how many I be of assistance to you my love.” Penelope’s voice perked up immediately as she answered.

Derek’s voice was hoarse and low, it turned her blood cold. “There’s no time Pen. She’s gone. He took her.”

“Who took who?”

As he swallowed back bile, Derek explained who Carter was to Juliet and that he had her. “Mama is on it, Chocolate Thunder. I’m pinging her phone now...and, sending the coordinates. She’s not far away at the moment, but she’s moving.”

“Thanks, babygirl.”

He hung up without a word, grabbing his gun and running out the door. The buzzing in his pocket was distracting. There was no time for this. He had to get to her and he had to get to her now.

The gas pedal felt like it could go through the floor of the car, but he still wasn’t driving fast enough. All of a sudden, he heard Garcia again. “She’s not moving anymore. You’re about 5 miles from her location.”

He couldn’t say anything. He wanted to thank Garcia. He wanted to say something, but the words were being damned up in his throat. She just kept telling him it was going to be okay, but Derek’s mind was going a mile a minute.

Five miles felt like five hours, but the moment he arrived, he knew he didn’t have the right place. Right against the brick wall, he saw a phone. It was Juliet’s. He ran over to it and saw the spider-web crack in the screen, their picture staring back at him. Just when he was about to scream, he heard the gravel crunch behind him. “What happened?” Hotch asked.

Derek turned around, hardly able to make out his boss past the red in his vision. He didn’t say a word just pushed straight past Hotch only to run directly into Reid.

“Morgan, hey, look at me. Right now your brain is sending you some very dangerous, very reckless signals. So just take a second and do some breathing.” He advised calmly, although on the inside he wanted to punch the son of a bitch that had made his friend so angry.

Against every instinct in his body, Derek took a deep breath. “We need to profile this bastard.”

“Where do we start?” Hotch began, his voice steady although laced with restrained anger.

“Victimology.”

Emily hated to say it, because neither she nor the rest of the team wanted to talk about Juliet like a victim, but it’s what had to be done in the moment. “Why Juliet?”

“He was the typical abusive boyfriend,” JJ muttered. How were they supposed to differentiate him from the rest of the scummy abusive exes of the world?

Derek cleared his throat. “No, he wasn’t just the typical. He was extreme even then. One night, he was going to have friends join him…” He nearly threw up. “But she tried to take her own life that night. He isn’t typical in any way, so we have to think outside the box.”

“So he gets off on thrills, enjoys raising the stakes. Which means he’ll likely be careless or take it too far.” Hotch nodded.

“If he doesn’t kill her first.” Derek muttered under his breath.

                                                            -------

Juliet awoke to the sound of water dripping. She tried to move only to find herself handcuffed to the radiator. Her head felt like she’d just gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. Her vision was fuzzy but she could make out what appeared to be a bathroom. At least, there was a toilet. So unless someone had made some fucked up interior design choices, this was a bathroom.

Footsteps that seemed to belong to a giant carried a figure into the room. Juliet bit her tongue and tasted blood. She couldn’t scream. She had promised he’d never make her scream in fear again.

She swore she’d never cower in front of him again.

Although she was cuffed, she sat up, staring him straight in the eyes. His new girlfriend, or more likely brainwashed captive, stood behind him, her body shaking as her eyes darted across the room. “You look different than the last time I saw you,” he said admiringly. “Stronger.” He bent down to touch her cheek and she moved away - not flinched - she made a show out of not giving in to what he wanted - her fear, but she did move away from his touch; she never wanted it again and wondered when she ever had.

“But I can still see behind those eyes. It’s false bravado.”

“Fuck you,” Juliet spat. “Why am I here? What do you want with me? Bored of torturing her so you come back to me?”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t be jealous. You know there’s never been anyone else for me but you.” Carter crooned.

“You’re nothing to me. If you want to kill me, kill me. But otherwise you can’t hurt me.” She hissed.

“I know. It’s a pity. We used to have such fun. I guess this time around I’ll have to just enjoy the show.”

Juliet’s stomach turned at the sight of Kerry tentatively stepping into the bathroom, a gun in her hand. She was shaking, eyes wide with terror as Carter pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Go on, my good girl.” He chided, before stepping out and locking the door behind him.

As the door closed behind him, Kerry kept the gun trained on her, but Juliet could see the hesitancy in her eyes. She didn’t want to be doing this - it was Carter. Carter had this innate ability to keep those around him afraid, so afraid that they considered they never would have before. “Look, you don’t have to do this,” Juliet started softly, her hands straining against the cuffs. “I know this is all Carter, but you don’t have to do this. I got away from him...so can you.”

She had let her guard down and allowed the fear to seep in. Maybe if this woman saw it, she would back down, but the more Juliet spoke, the more steady the woman’s hand became.

Juliet couldn’t just sit her and do nothing, waiting for a bullet in the brain. Talking was her only hope. “He’s made you do things you’ve never imagined, hasn’t he? He’s used you? Tortured you? Raped you? He did the same thing to me and I escaped.” She was rambling and she didn’t want to be - she couldn’t be right now, but her composure was failing. “P-P-Please, let me...let me help you. I can, but you have to let me go.”

                                                            -------

It was 2:30 in the morning and Derek was pacing around the bullpen hands full of files. Every so often he’d crumple one up like an earthquake swallowing up everything in its path. There had to be something he could do, something they had missed. If he just looked hard enough. If he just kept going.

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder made him jump away. He looked up to see Reid standing next to him. At least he thought it was Reid. His eyes were so damn heavy it was getting hard to tell one shape from another.

“You need sleep, Morgan.” Reid suggested. “I know you want to catch this guy but you can’t do that if you’re exhausted.”

The only time that Derek remembered crying in front of his team was when he confronted Buford years back, and even then, he’d cried around them, not to him. But as Reid spoke, the tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his already fucked up vision. “I can’t sleep, kid...I just can’t...everytime I close my eyes I see something happened to her. He’s hurting her. Or she’s already dead. Or...I just can’t close my eyes. It’s more painful than staying awake.”

Reid more than understood. After Atlanta, he couldn’t close his eyes without having nightmares for months, and that had been regarding himself, had Hankel had taken someone Reid loved? He couldn’t even imagine. “At least let’s go back to the team and try and go over what we know?” He pleaded. Anything to keep Derek from the relentless pacing across the floors of the bullpen.  

Silently, Derek followed, making futile attempts to wipe away his tears before he saw everyone else. “We’ve been going over Carter’s history,” Rossi said, lightly squeezing Derek’s shoulder. “Where he’s lived, worked, hung out, gotten a drink, hell, where he’s gone to the bathroom over the past 10 years.”

That was thorough. Garcia must’ve gone above and beyond just to make sure.

“Now, is he the type to work alone?” Reid asked. He had his theories, but he wanted to get Derek’s mind moving so that it might be distracted for a millisecond.

Swallowing against the ever-present lump in his throat, Derek scanned the faces of his friends before taking a deep breath. “Possibly, but if having control is what gets him off then we can’t rule out the possibility of him controlling a partner in this type of situation.”

“Well even when the heat’s been on him before, he sticks to routine. When the police investigated him back in Chicago he didn’t change anything. Probability suggests he’s keeping Juliet somewhere like a hotel penthouse or something he would still consider comfortable.” JJ chimed in. “I’ll have Garcia start checking on recent reservations or sales of high end property in the area.”

“And I’ll reach out to some contacts who might know of transactions that might not be public record. Having a mother who adores politics and runs in elite circles might finally be good for something.” Emily added, before turning and heading back to her desk.

Slowly everyone drifted off back to work, leaving Derek alone once again. But this time he could see he wasn’t alone. His family had his back.

                                                            -------

She wasn’t sure if her heart was going to be able to take another drop and raise of the gun. This woman, who she’d learned was named Kerry, had vacillated back and forth four times already, insisting that this was the only way she might live and be able to get away from him. This was what Carter did - he made people feel this low. “Please, Kerry...can you put your head on the pillow at night knowing you’ve killed me in cold blood? This doesn’t have to happen. You put the gun down and unlock me we can get out of this window right now.”

Juliet was grasping at straws, but they were all she had.

For the fifth time, Kerry lowered the gun, turning quickly to vomit into the sink. “I can’t do… can’t do this…”

Kerry left the gun on the sink counter before turning to leave the room. Juliet could only hope Carter wasn’t outside, or she was dead anyway.

                                                            -------

Derek must have nodded off at some point. He awoke to gentle shaking. “Derek, you need to wake up.” JJ’s gentle but firm voice leaked through his sleep. His eyes opened slowly with some protest to see her standing over his chair.

And that was when he saw that look in her eyes. The look they gave families every single day. The look that meant they were too late.

He couldn’t speak or move. Everything was just falling apart as she spoke.

“A body was found in a burned out car this morning. The plate matches a car registered to Carter’s cousin, Robert. The body was burned...beyond recognition, but they found Juliet’s bag in the front seat.”

No.

“Where?” He asked, yelling it again when JJ didn’t answer him. “Where is the car? Take me to the car!”

Jumping out of the chair, he darted to the elevator, feeling his heart burst into his throat at the possibility. It couldn’t be. He just found her. He couldn’t have lost her already. Not now.

“Morgan!” Hotch screamed as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

The rest of the team caught up with him in the parking garage, trying to convince him to turn back. If it was her, this was not something he wanted to see. “You don’t want this burned into your brain,” Emily said.

“I have to know, Emily...I have to.”

And that was how Derek Morgan ended up standing behind the yellow caution tape at the one crime scene he’d never wanted to imagine could exist. By the time he’d fought the team off and gotten down here, the ME had already taken the body away. But the scorched skeleton of the car told enough of a story on it’s own.

It had been painful. And slow.

She suffered.

She had cried out. Had she called for him?

Phantom screams began to echo around his head as Derek stared down at the wreckage of his life. This was the end.

@epiphanyys @crimeshowtrash @literallyprentissstwin @jazz91121@jennferjareau @spencer-puppies-and-stuff @fl0werb0nes18 @stunudo @spencerthepipecleaner @theofficeofsupremegenius @ultrarebelheart @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lukeassmanalvez @mentallydatingspencerreid @nobravery @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars @wonderboygenius @spxcxrrxid @imagines-for-criminal-minds @acespence @sweater-vest-reid @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid @sam-carter-in-training @parker-hopper @spencerwreid @ssahotchner @profiler-in-training @were-skye @trollitis @heyboywonder @ficrecswithcassie @janiedreams88 @gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid @tippy06 @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart @ssaunitchief @xxm3xxj @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo

[disruptedvice]

ABC (easy as 123)

Starmora highschool au For @ephemeralcontinuum

Summary: “I still don’t see how you two ever became a thing,” Her friend commented, referring to Gamora’s boyfriend on defense. He makes me smile, was the first thought Gamora had. “He’s quite… persistent,” is what she actually said, with a begrudging fondness.

AO3 link _________________ ABC (easy as 123) _________________

November meant soccer. It also meant that it was finally starting to get cold enough for Gamora to start wearing a jacket when she hung around after school and waited for Peter’s practice to end. It was a habit she started back when they were nothing more than friends- he was always in practice for some sport year round, depending on the season. She was never a team player, but sticking around for his practices gave her an excuse to stay after school instead of heading home. Then it became a habit. She liked the solitude too- it was centering, sitting alone on the bleachers or benches off to the side of whatever field of that particular sport season.

Gamora wasn’t alone that afternoon though. She found she didn’t mind.

Gen was the only other girl in school who had hair dyed an unnatural color- blue bangs- and with Gamora’s pink tips it was like they were destined to get along. Was there such thing as solidarity in hair color?

Even though they’d been in the same art class since the beginning of that year, they didn’t really end up talking until getting partnered up on a project recently. This was the first day she invited Gen to come with her as she started walking out to the sports field after the school bell rang. Much to her surprise, she accepted, and it was actually kinda fun just hanging out and talking on the bleachers for the past half hour.

Okay, not just kinda. It was nice, and Gamora was having fun. They both were. And Gamora was actually snorting with laughter as Gen tried to extrapolate the meaning of the horrendous pattern on the goalie’s uniform that was like a psychedelic trip mixed with a kaleidoscope that was trying way too hard to get attention.

“I still don’t see how you two ever became a thing,” Gen commented, referring to Gamora’s boyfriend on defense. Who she could hear whining from here for being whistled and shouted at for being offsides.

He makes me smile, was the first thought Gamora had.

“He’s quite… persistent,” is what she actually said, with a begrudging fondness.

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “So what? He just annoyed you into going out with him? That doesn’t explain why you two are still together.”

It was no use pretending Peter wasn’t what one would call popular. Everyone knew him, or at least knew of him. Gamora was used to it. Hell, she remembered whenever she used to be infamous on her own and labelled a loner before the gang got together. She also remembered how worried the teachers seemed to be whenever she, Rocket, Groot, Drax, and Peter really became a posse. It just seemed like a bad idea when five troublemakers became a group of friends. Though Peter was more mischief maker than troublemaker (you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them). He was the class clown who got in trouble for goofing off, but had typical well-adjusted highschool student activities too. Like sports. Participation.

And he turned out to be a good leader. There was a reason he was usually voted team captain for all the sports teams he was on (though he definitely didn’t act like it during practice). And he turned out to be a surprisingly good influence on the rest of their friends, Gamora included.

“No, he just has this way of worming his way into your heart, whether you want him to or not,” she tried to explain. “Whether or not you give him permission to make you start caring about him. But it’s… He starts caring about you first, and you just can’t help but care about him in return. Or something like that. I don’t know how it happened either. Damn him for being so cute and lovable. It’s his fault. He just worms himself into your heart, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.” Yeah, that was it, shift all the blame on Peter. It was better that anyone thinks the sentiment was his fault, instead of Gamora being Sappy. Or… ugh… romantic. He must be rubbing off on her- she swore she wasn’t this sappy before she met him. No way.

“Weren’t you worried about his, you know, reputation at first? The love ‘em and leave ‘em Peter Quill who’d never been with the same girl longer than a week, and had a new notch in his bedpost like every other night?” Gen asked, not bothering to beat around any bushes. This was something that Gamora appreciated about her personality. “You’re the last person I’d ever expect to end up with a guy like him, Gamora. Now it doesn’t seem like a big deal since you’ve been together- how long?”

“A year as of July,” Gamora supplied.

“Right. Now it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but you didn’t know that when you first started going out. Weren’t you, I dunno, worried?”

She shrugged in response. “Not especially. He pursued me for a year before we went on our first date. Not like, hounding me. I would’ve cracked his jaw open for that. It’s like I was saying about the whole genuinely caring thing he does. I always knew I was something more to him. He’s got the whole puppy dog heart on his sleeve thing, and it’s disgustingly endearing.” She paused then, to recollect particulars- besides, she had time to kill. Why not tell the whole story? A truncated version, of course.  

“We almost kissed the week we met, but then I threatened him with physical violence if he ever tried to pull something like that with me. A kiss. So he didn’t. He just became my annoying best friend after that, somehow. And we just got closer and closer. All the while, Peter Quill, big man on campus, stopped hooking up at parties like he used to have a reputation for doing once we started hanging out. Started being friends.” Once they all started being friends, really. Once the group got together. Peter always said they should come up with a name, she recalled fondly. Drax thought it was a great idea (he always thinks it’s a great idea whenever Quill brings up that long argued over point). Rocket threatened to ‘quit’ if he ever even tried to give them a team name.

“He’s told me since that he already started… developing feelings for me by the end of the month we met,” she continued. “And whenever he had feelings for me, he didn’t want to be with anyone else, even superficially, at all. So no, I wasn’t worried. He was horribly honest about all of it, too. I always knew how much I meant to him.”

“How’d you guys meet anyway? You run in totally different circles.”

“Detention,” Gamora answered easily, and Gen laughed.

“Okay, now that I buy.” _________________

“There’s a reason why Drax, Rocket, Groot, and I are such good friends now. Why our group of friends even exists. It’s because of Peter.” Gamora’s learned that sharing things about yourself is a way to make friends, and to solidify a budding friendship. She’s also since learned that it’s much easier to talk about Peter than herself. And waxing poetic about your boyfriend is a way of getting personal, in a friendship building way- so it’s a work around. Gen is probably the first friend she’s made in years, outside of their little group. It’s nice. Plus, Gamora’s also proud of her boyfriend, and she secretly liked bragging on him. Not that she would ever admit that.

“Now don’t tell him I said this, because his ego doesn’t need to get any bigger, but he’s the best person I know. He has a way of changing people, for the better. I think it’s that whole genuinely caring about other people that he has a habit of. The whole reason our little ‘posse’ is friends- it’s cause Peter reached out to us first. We were all in pretty bad places when we met him. And he reached out and stuck around and made you feel important because you were important, and this utterly ridiculous goofball of sunshine actually cared about the sad sack of shit you were, and gave a crap about you, when you’re not used to mattering to people at all. It… he’s infectious.”

“You make it sound like he’s some benevolent sort of superhero.”

“No, he’s just kind with a drive to help out other people, for whatever reason. And a keen sense of someone in trouble I guess. Not like spider sense sort of trouble, but… he has a good heart. I think he sees pain in other people, and wants to help them. I won’t speak for the rest of the group, but none of us come from very good… situations. Rocket likes to joke we’re the most fucked up kids in school, so of course we all became friends. I certainly wasn’t at a good place when we met. My parents died when I was a kid, and my adoptive family after them… let’s just say they weren’t healthy.  I think Peter was the first person who cared about me in years. So yes, he has a way of kicking down the door to your heart and announcing to make room cause he’s taking up permanent residence there.” _________________

“Gamora!” Peter shouted, waving his arms above his head as he jogged over to the bleachers. Like he was trying to get her attention or something. Even though he literally did this every practice. Every time he got a break, he’d run over to go bug the prettiest girl in the world (who he also happened to be dating). “My biggest fan!” He greeted with the widest smile on his face once he reached her.

“Try your only fan,” Gamora scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and their familiar banter that they always fell into so easily.

Peter gasped, his hand flying over his heart like she’d just shot him through it. “Oh, ouch!”

It only took two seconds for him to drop his mock offense though, his facade falling into his easy laughter that always made her want to laugh too. His cheeks were a bit pink from all the running and exertion, and with the happiest look on his face- Gamora just had to smile at how cute he was. She obviously wasn’t going to say so, not in front of her friend (she did have some respect for other people to not put on gag worthy sentimental displays like he was prone to), but she thought she may just have to tell him sometime later.

Speaking of friend.

Peter looked expectantly between the two girls, noticing how close they were sitting and how they were talking until just a moment ago. He raised his eyebrows, almost bouncing on his toes, and he was very clearly waiting for an introduction, but no one said anything. He didn’t seem surprised.

“So… let me guess,” he started excitedly, motioning to whoever was sitting next to his girlfriend. “This is… new friend from art class?” Peter phrased it as a question, but he was confident he nailed it.

Gamora’s friend raised her eyebrows, looking reasonably impressed.

“Gen,” Gamora corrected him.

Before he had any real time to chat, Peter was being called back over by the other guys on the team (who were shouting at him to get his butt back on the field and stop flirting, cause his teammates were so unoriginal).

So he gave Gamora a quick kiss on the cheek and said an even quicker goodbye to her friend before jogging back onto the field, prepared for the ribbing he was definitely going to get from them before they got back into the game. It was a rather short break, apparently.

Meanwhile, Gen looked at Gamora, awaiting an explanation. They’d really only met last week, and them hanging out right now wasn’t planned in advance, so Gen was curious as to how Peter knew who she was.

“I told him about you one time,” Gamora sighed in answer to the unasked question. “And I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘I met someone in art who’s as big of an asshole as I am.’”

“A boy who listens to you?” Gen waggled her eyebrows with a knowing smile. “You’d better hold onto that one.”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on letting go of him anytime soon.” _________________

“Though for real, that was some deep shit,” Gen told her, meaning it as a sincere compliment. “All reflective and introspective. Seriously, Gamora, you sound way too mature, especially when talking about that ridiculous goofball, as you like to call him. I swear, you could submit what you just said to some sort of writing competition and win, like, everything. You’d be so good at angsty poetry. I'm not even kidding, what you just said sounded really good, and beautiful, honestly. But you should maybe take out all the curse words before submitting it to something. Did you just come up with that off the top of your head? Cause that was deep.”

Gamora shrugged. “Peter comes up a lot in my mandated therapy sessions. I still have to go to them every week, even though I haven't been in a fight at school in over a year now. I of course spend a lot of time with my boyfriend, so I end up talking about him whenever I have to talk about what my week was like, every week. You realize a couple things with forced reflection.”

“Man, I wish I had known you back when you got into fist fights,” Gen said almost wistfully. “I only got to hear about them afterward when everyone was talking about how you beat someone up at lunch. I thought you were the coolest girl in school when I heard those stories. I mean, good on you for not punching anybody lately. I just kinda wish I had gotten to see Michael Crichton cry. Dude’s an asshole. Even a bigger asshole than the two of us,” Gen elbowed her with a smile, and Gamora had to laugh.

Yes, she was glad to have found a friend with the same asshole sense of humor she did.

“He still won’t look me in the eyes in the hallway,” Gamora stated proudly.

At that, Gen held up her hand for a high five, and Gamora gave it to her.

“You are my hero, man,” Gen grinned. “I heard you got suspension for that, right?”

“Mhmm. Three days,” she confirmed.

“Well, on behalf of all the girls who’ve had to put up with him for two years, thank you for taking one for the team and decking him in the face. That day was the last time he cat called anybody. He’s too afraid you’ll hear him and punch him again,” Gen snickered.

Yes, Gamora had a feeling this was the start to a beautiful friendship.