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#miles: don’t be so evil / Peter: don’t be so LOUD. i just got her to bed i’ll kill us both don’t test me
milimeters-morales · 1 year
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Miles, stimming: hi! hello. hey hi! hi! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO-
Peter B, putting a hand on his head: if you wake up May, I’ll kill us both. No hesitation.
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kareofbears · 3 years
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precursor
“Get out.”
The room drops to absolute silence. Everything stills, halted by Ryuji’s words. Only Akira remains unaffected—leaning against the back of his chair, hands still in his pockets, gaze cool.
Haru is the first to react. “Do…” Her eyes dart to Akira’s. “Were you talking about—”
“No. Everyone but him,” he jerks his head to the staircase. “Out.”
read on ao3 or below the cut 
“Get out.”
The room drops to absolute silence. Everything stills, halted by Ryuji’s words. Only Akira remains unaffected—leaning against the back of his chair, hands still in his pockets, gaze cool.
Haru is the first to react. “Do…” Her eyes dart to Akira’s. “Were you talking about—”
“No. Everyone but him,” He jerks his head to the staircase. “Out.”
No one calls him out on his tone, not with the way Ryuji’s gripping the edge of the table like a talisman—a prayer that prevents evil from coming. Akira doesn’t know who the evil is in this situation.
Eventually, chairs scrape against the wooden floors as they all peter out and down the stairs, one by one. Each of them glances back at the two boys who remain, a leader and his right-hand man. It doesn’t matter what superficial titles they gave themselves; Ryuji will always hold one over him.
The bell chimes quietly from underneath their feet. They were alone.
He watches Ryuji. The way his knuckles are white, the way his eyebrows are scrunched. The way his posture is so rigid that he can tell it’s uncomfortable even from across the table. The way that Ryuji isn’t watching him back.
“You piss me off.”
Akira raises an eyebrow. “Right now, or—”
“Fuck you,” he spits, and Akira tries not to flinch. It’s not rare for Ryuji to drop an f-bomb, but it’s almost never directed at him, and definitely not with this much venom seeped into it. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“That.” Ryuji gestures with his free hand. “You say words that don’t mean jack, tryin’ to make a joke out of a time like this. You’re acting like I’m not sitting here, wanting to hurl my fist into a wall because of the shit you’re trying to pull. I just—” His knuckles go impossibly paler. “You don’t give a damn, Akira. You don’t give a single damn.”
“You think I don’t care?” his voice comes out dangerously soft.
“I didn’t say that—!”
“Because it sounds like that was what you were trying to say.” Akira leans forward. “If there’s one thing you can’t point at, Ryuji, is that I’m somehow lazy, or careless. You can’t say that I haven’t put every single fiber of my being into this—”
“And I’m not. I didn’t, and you’re shoving words I never even said down my throat to justify the bullshit that you want to do!”
He grits his teeth. “It’s not bullshit.”
“It so fucking is, Kurusu, and you’d be the biggest moron in this goddamn planet if you’re going to try and talk your way out of that one. What you want to do is irrational, it’s fucked, it makes no sense.”
“What part of this makes no sense to you?” Despite his best efforts, Akira is beginning to feel the rise of frustration in his chest, the hurt of Ryuji’s critiques piling on him. There’s something deeply unsettling to have Ryuji openly defy him. “Because frankly, I didn’t hear you give any other ideas.”
Ryuji’s eyes widen before barking out a biting laugh. “Oh, good. Low blow, going for that one. Where’d you hear that, the cafeteria? During gym class?”
The length of the table stands between them, but it feels like miles. “I meant that there’s no other choice but to do this, and I need you to get that through your head.”
Akira catches a glimpse of Ryuji’s palm, bright red and covered in splinters, as he lets go of the wood’s harsh ledge to aggressively scrub at his hair. “Yeah, sure! No other choice than to do this, yeah? No other choice than to lose the fucking love of my life to that shit-eating detective and the bogus cops crawling around town? Of course, there’d be no other option than to do that, right?”
“Unless you have any other ideas, then yes, we’re going for that one.” He can’t help it anymore—Akira reaches forward and snatches the pen on the table, flicking and spinning it in his hand rapidly. It does nothing for him. “But I haven’t heard anything half-decent, and it’s not like we can magic one up within the week.”
“Cut that out. I hate it when you talk down to me like that, patronize me like I don’t get what’s going on.” Ryuji’s eyes narrow. “You know what I do understand though? Something you conveniently didn’t bring up because you can’t bear to go through what you’re going to do to us once you go?”
He does. He doesn’t say anything.
“That literally—literally any of us can go in your place, Kurusu. We can tell Akechi that we called you the leader as a precaution, that we didn’t trust him yet—”
“That’s enough.”
“We’re not bound by blood to shove you in an interrogation room twelve meters underground. He’d believe it—that snarky bastard would probably eat that shit up, give us an attaboy for being so careful—”
“It won’t work.”
“We can discuss it, as a group this time, and talk out who’d be willing to go. Obviously, Futaba’s out, but I wouldn’t be opposed to me—”
“You’re not going.”
Akira’s breathing hard, enough that he feels his bones rattling from within. He’s shivering, he realizes. Pushing the thought of Ryuji in that room, by himself, at the mercy of Akechi’s hands away from himself, he refocuses his attention back to the present.
“Is it because of him?”
The light flickers above them. Akira meets Ryuji’s eyes.
“What did you just say to me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Ryuji stares back, searching. “Are you pushing to go because of him? To see him?”
Akira barely heard what he said, with his ears ringing as loud as they are. The air inside his lungs feels like it got sucked out until there’s nothing left—a sucker punch to the gut. Akira would have taken that over hearing those words.
He didn’t realize he had stood up until he was grabbing Ryuji’s collar and pulling him close. It’s the red one, his favorite. A bright shade that’s so fitting for him that it’s nothing short of uncanny. It stretches unpleasantly under his fingers.
“How can you possibly say that? How dare you?”
“Am I wrong?” His head is tilted up in an angle, arrogant in a way that makes him feel queasy, angry, uncomfortable with something he can’t name. It leaves him unable to speak for a moment.
Ryuji steamrolls past the beat, words coming out of him without pause that only ever comes out when fury and desperation take over. “You love me, I know that more than anything. But sometimes I can see it; the way you look at him, the way you talk to him, and I know why. I know that it’s part of you to help people like us, people like him, I know that. But—”
“You’re wrong.” Akira furiously wipes away the stream down his cheeks. Hurt. That’s what it was. Mountains of it. “So damn wrong.”
“If I’m wrong, then why? How?” his voice cracks. A hand grabs Akira’s wrist, its grip stronger than steel despite how much it trembles. “How are you so willing to leave me?”
The heat of anger and frustration seeps out of him in one fell swoop. The torment of his words stemming from eyes that Akira had learned and relearned thousand of times. It leaves him feeling hollow. Tired.
He releases Ryuji and lets his head fall on his broad shoulders, inhaling. Bar soap and laundry detergent from when they went grocery shopping last week.
Arms encircle his waist, and a chin hooks onto his shoulders, locking perfectly in place—even their bodies don’t know how to be angry at one another.
“It’s because I can’t leave you,” Akira says eventually. “It’s so I never have to leave you again.”
“I know.”
“I’d never, ever let any of you do it for me. Even if it kills me.”
Arms tighten around him. “I know that, too.” A beat passes. “I love you.”
Akira closes his eyes and lets it wash over him. “I know.”
Neither of them apologize. It wouldn’t change what Akira has to do.
He feels Ryuji’s warmth through his thin shirt and tries not to think about how cold the interrogation room will be.
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agentofscifi · 4 years
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Super Genius Ch. 3
I march my way through the complex, ignoring the stares off all of the Avengers. My Dad is biting into a bagel as I stop next to him. He swallows quickly. “Happy Birthday Kiddo!”  
I feel my eye twitch. “Peter, Peni, Miles, Anya, and Gwen have all been bitten by radioactive spiders. MJ and Ned seem to be some sort of Superhero backup. Riri and Harley recreated your tech in garages. Are any of these kids normal?”  
My Dad flushes. “How’s you find out?”  
“Peter got surprised, jumped, landed on the ceiling and then stayed there! This is not normal!”  
My Dad opens and closes his mouth. “I can explain!”  
I raise an eyebrow. “Explain what? How every one of your new interns is either helping a superhero, is a superhero, or is on their way to being a Superhero? What is this, the Junior Avengers?”  
My Dad rolls his eyes. “I haven’t coined a name yet, and don’t you mean everyone but you?”  
I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe.” It didn’t matter as much now. My parents in France were told about me being Ladybug after I became the Guardian. The kids all already knew. Harley had looked in my bag for my charging cord last night only to find Tikki. This would be when Peter freaked out and got stuck on the ceiling. Giant talking bugs were not normal in New York, according to Peter. Either way, my superhero ID had already known to the rest of the kids.  
My Dad does a double take. “What does “maybe” mean?”  
I shrug. “Maybe means that I was given a pair of magical earrings with a tiny goddess that’s attached to them when I was 12 and that I’ve been fighting a magical terrorist for the past 3 years while in Paris.”  
Everyone is looking at me once again. My Father is blinking rapidly. “This is a joke, right?”  
Tikki suddenly pops up in the air next to me. “Hi, I’m Tikki! I’m the Ladybug Kawami.”  
A disheveled Clint looks up from his cup of coffee before slowly grabbing a newspaper and rolling it up. “Stark, don’t move. There’s a giant floating bug.”  
I reach forward and snatch the newspaper from his hand. “She’s a goddess.”  
Clint closes his eyes slowly. “So, no huge bug bites from the giant floating bug goddess?”  
I resist the urge to facepalm. “No, there won’t be any bug bites. Drink your coffee.” Clint nods and slowly starts to sip on his coffee again.  
My Dad clears his throat. “Magical terrorist?”  
“Who uses evil butterflies to possess people.”  
My Dad stares at me then looks to the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Is my daughter on drugs?”  
“No, Mr. Stark. Further research has turned up a few blogs and news articles speaking of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and several other heroes fighting a Hawkmoth and Mayura.”  
My Dad furrows his brow. “Is Paris on drugs?”  
I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. This is not the point. Are you, or are you not, starting some kind of Junior Justice League?”  
My father gives me a playful glare. “Mari, you know me. I’m just mentoring.”  
“So you are starting a Junior Justice League.” I throw my hands into the air. “You have got to be kidding me!”  
“Marinette!” My Dad is whining now, like a child.  
I roll my eyes and decide to skip out on the rest of my questions involving my Father’s collection of teenage superheroes. “Dinner with Pepper, Rodney, and Happy tonight?”  
He smiles. “Of course, at your favorite restaurant!”  
I peak him on the cheek. “Love you Dad!” I twist around on my heels and hit the button for the elevator.  
Sam blinks as I step into the elevator. Tikki waves at Sam, who hesitantly waves back. “What’s with the floating giant bug in the elevator?”  
“The tiny goddess attached to Tony’s kid’s earrings that she used to fight a magical terrorist in France that’s possessing people with butterflies.” Natasha leans back in her seat, sipping on a cup of coffee.  
Sam rubs his eyes and looks back at Tikki, who is still waving cheekily. “I’m going back to bed.”  
The elevator door closes as Sam turns back around to go to bed.  
A few seconds later I end up back in the Teen living room. Harley looks up as I walk back in. “So, are we the Junior Justice League?”  
“Yup. You guys ready for today?”  
Ned briefly throws his hands up in the air. “5 Days of Star Wars in less than 24 hours!”  
MJ rolls her eyes as she finishes up the shopping list. “It’s 7 days Ned. We need to sleep.”  
“Sleep is for the weak!” Peni sitting on top of her robot, her spider resting on her shoulder.  
Anya sighs and runs a hand over her face. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”  
My mouth splits wide open. “Doing what Anya? Adding an AI to the Avengers Tower, freeing ourselves of the Baby Monitors, and rebelling form the man upstairs.”  
Gwen looks over the back of the couch with a raised eyebrow. “Is the man your father?”  
“Yes and if he was in my shoes, he’d be doing the exact same thing.”  
Gwen shrugs. “Probably.”  
“I’m sorry!” Peter looks around at all of us. “Are we all just going to go with the tiny goddess living in our...apartment, the girl with magical earrings, and the terrorist in Paris with magical butterflies possessing people?”  
“Peter,” Miles looks up from the sketch book in his hand. “There's a wizard with a semi-sentiate cape living in New York. The tiny goddess makes more sense than the cape. The evil butterflies, I’ll give you that. That’s just weird.”  
I click my tongue. “Says the kid who developed invisibility after being bitten by a spider. That’s weird.”  
Miles holds his hands up. “Agree to disagree.” He reaches down and holds up his paper. It was done in colored pencil, but was drawn as if it was spray painted. It was a large yin-yang symbol, however, a spider sat in the Yin circle of the Yang side and the arc reactor symbol sat in the Yang circle of the Yin side. “What do you think?”  
“I think we need to add spray paint to the shopping list. We have our symbol of rebellion.”  
Harley shrugs again. “Or the symbol of our Junior Avengers?”  
Riri glares up at Harley. “Way to ruin the moment, country boy.”  
Back in Paris  
Lila’s POV  
Alya squeals as Miss. Bustier smiles before the collection of students. Technically, Lycée was out for the year, but after months of fundraising and paperwork, the Akuma Class of Lycée Françoise Dupont was attending the International Technology Showcase in Washington D.C. in 2 months. A sizable anonymous donation was sent to the school. I had already spun a story telling all of my sheep that Tony Stark sent the money so that we could see the Showcase in D.C.  
Max had already planned on attending the showcase this summer, as he was showing off a computer program of his. With the announcement that the school would be covering the rest of the trip, several other students in the class were considering adding their own inventions to the showcase. I would have to whip something up and then maybe I’d be able to catch the eye of someone at the showcase. Science wasn’t where I wanted to end up, but winning some award at a huge competition for a bunch of nerds would look great on my portfolio.  
I give a loud sigh. “This sounds great, but unfortunately, my designs went missing. I had this amazing idea that I worked out with Tony Stark. The equations and blueprints disappeared out of my bag on the last day of school.” 3, 2, 1, and!  
Alya gasps. “I bet it was Marinette, just like your laptop Lila!”  
“Did you ever go to the police, Lila?” Rose is giving me one of those obnoxious smiles.  
“I tried, but since I didn’t have any proof, they said they couldn’t do much. Marinette must have reset the tablet.” I give a few sniffs as the class tries to comfort me.  
“You know, I bet if we told Marinette’s parents they’d believe us!” Alya stands up from the benches just outside the school. “I bet they’ll force Marientte to give back Lila’s laptop.”  
A brief wave of shock rolls over me. That was something I hadn’t considered yet, turning Ms. Goodie-Tooshoe’s parents against her. The iPad idea might not work alone, but with all the other stories I had made up, I could probably convince them. “Well, if you think it’s the best thing to do.”  
The whole class makes their way over to the bakery, Alya at the lead. I let the class escort me over, as if I didn’t want to be bothering the two bakers.  
Alya slams open the front door, the bell’s ring catching the attention of the two people behind the register, as well as the woman attempting to order. Both of Marientte’s parents give the class smiles, however, they seem hesitant. “Hello kids,” Marinette’s mother waves to us. “I’ll be with you in a second.”  
Alya, instead, marches her way towards the counter and pushes the woman aside. “Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, we have something important to talk to you about!”  
Said woman’s smile falls instantly as the other woman rubs her side. I immediately knew this wouldn’t go to plan. I’d have to adapt to get things my way. “Alya, I’m with a customer. It will have to wait a few minutes.”  
Alya rolls her eyes. “This is more important. Where’s Marinette?”  
Mrs. Dupain-Cheng crosses her arms over her chest. “Marinette isn’t here. What is this all about?”  
“Mari’s been bullying Lila!” Alya points back to me and I give a small wave. “She’s stolen things from her, called her a liar, has sent mean texts, and just a few days ago, she took Lila’s iPad and some tech plans Lila worked out with Tony Stark.”  
Marinette’s parents share a look before her mother bursts out laughing. Alya rears back her head in shock and I can’t even hide my surprise. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng looks back at us. “Marinette didn’t steal any tech plans. She doesn’t need to.”  
Alya opens and closes her mouth a few times. “What! Of course she does! She’s a complete scatterbrain.”  
Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s eyes darken. “My daughter skipped a year of school and still had the best grades in your class, hell, in your year. She managed to have these top grades while juggling her class’ work, class representative duties and all of your outrageous requests that were usual last minute and always free.”  
Several of my classmates are red or pale after those words. This was not going my way at all. I give Marinette’s mother a big smile. “Well, that’s what friends do, they help each other.”  
Mrs. Dupain-Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Right. I suppose this is why my daughter spent countless nights and hundreds of euros on fabrics for commission she was never paid for. Or, why Marinette was told she’d be babysitting three little kids for free while their older siblings went on dates with the money their parents gave them for babysitting. Or why she was told she was being selfish everytime she tried to ask for help.”  
I let my smile fall. This was not going to plan at all. “She stole things from Lila!” Alya has a look of disbelief on her face. “She stole important work. So what if Marinette’s a year ahead. Max still has way better grades than her. You’ll see next year when we restart classes.”   
Max’s chest puffs out in pride. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng just raises an eyebrow. “Go to the police then, if my daughter has stolen something. As for next year, Marinette graduated Lycée last week after years of working ahead. She’s attending MIT in the fall.”  
This could not be happening. Adrien looks at Marinette’s mother with shocked eyes. “Why didn’t she tell us?”  
At the same time Alya screams. “What!”  
The eyebrow is raised even high. “Because you told my daughter that you weren’t friends with her anymore. Now, you had barged into my shop, pushed a client, and rudely interrupted a sale. Please leave!”  
“But-”  
“Now!” The class scurried out the door, me along with them. Marinette’s mother looked truly angry.  
We all stand outside the shop, several of my sheep looking completely confused. Since when was Ms. Goodie-Goodie smart enough to graduate two years early?  
I huff and I slowly make my way up the staircase of the Dupain-Cheng home. I need something for this showcase and if Marientte is as smart as her mother says she is, then she’d have something. I managed to pick the lock of the bakery and make my way up to the attic that Marinette called a room.  
It was bare. That was the best way to describe the room. All of the walls were empty of decorations. The desk had nothing on it either. All that was left was the basic furniture and the sheets on the bed. I try all of the desk drawers and even under the bed, nothing. Then, I remember it the board Alya told me about. The schedule of Adrien’s that Marinette had kept.  
I rooted around at the edge of the bed until I found it. The edge of the board. Smiling, I pull it all the way down. It was several layers of plans on top of each other. There were details about several apps, some green projects and well as some super resistant fabric for firefighters. What really caught my eye was the equations and blue prints for a small device that would wirelessly charge any device in a 50 radius. I snap photos of all layers of plans. If I could get this stuff out there, I could make thousands, and all with the help of Marinette. The only issue would be if Marinette came after me for stealing her work. Who was I kidding, that wouldn’t be an issue. I’d just shed some tears and tell everyone about Marinette’s bullying. I had school records to back me up. It’s not like anyone would believe her if she said she did the work.  
New York City
Marinette’s POV
I click my tongue as a notification pops up on my phone. After Chloe had broken into my room I’d set up security cameras and motion sensor alerts in case anyone else tried something. A good idea seeing as Lila was currently picking at things in my room. I raise an eyebrow as she pulls down my chart and starts to take photos of my inventions on there.  
“Everything alright?” Riri stops at shoulder and looks over at the phone. “What is she doing?”  
“She is taking photos of my ideas. The coding for a few apps, blueprints for some green energy things, the information required for my super resistant firefighter fabric and an invention I got a patent back on last week. It goes on sale in a month with Stark Industries.”  
“Cool. How does she expect to get away with this?”   
“Didn’t you hear!” I pick up an overly fake fangirl tone of voice. “It’s Lila Rossi! She’s Ladybug’s best friend, she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten, she does all kinds of environmental charities with Prince Ali, she helps the Avengers and all while having arthritis, sprained ankles and wrists, and tinnitus that switches ears every few hours.”  
Peter stops in the middle of the living room, a look of complete confusion on his face. “I thought Jagged Stone had a crocodile?”  
“He does Peter.”  
“Since when does Tinnitus switch ears?” Peter is still confused.  
“Since she saved Jagged Stone’s cat from an airplane.”  
Harley snorts from the edge of the kitchen. “This sounds like fantasy.”  
I groan. “You’d think, but my class all believes her. Max made a freaking A.I robot, with emotions, but believes that a paper napkin could cut his eye. He wears glasses.”  
“What did Hawkmoth lower your class’ IQs or something?” Anya settles down into the nest we had made in the past hour.  
“A leading theory.”  
The phone rings with a facetime request. I hit the accept button and my father’s face pops up with a stack of papers in his hands. “What is this?”  
I raise an eyebrow. “You got our declaration of independence.”  
My father looks unimpressed. “What is this?”  
Riri is grinning next to me. “Our declaration of independence.”  
“What does that mean?” I can’t but laugh at the confused expression on my Dad’s face.   
Harley pops up on my other shoulder. “No baby monitoring protocols!”  
“Junk food all day!” Miles yells from his spot.  
“No bedtime!” Peni is cheering. Sometimes I forget how young she is.  
There’s laughing in the background from my father’s end. “Tony, are the kids beating you up?” I recognize Bucky’s voice in the background.  
My father ignores the comment. “How did you block FRIDAY?”  
“Simple, I added in my own AI. I left the backdoor open years ago.”  
“You have an AI?” My father’s face is torn between confusion and pride.  
“JADA. Junior Avengers Defying Adults.”  
“Mari!” My Dad is whining again.  
“You have 5-6 days to review our Declaration, we will be occupied during this time. We have a lawyer, for the record.”  
“Do I want to know what you’ll be doing?”  
“Star Wars marathon. All 12 movies, along with all 7 seasons of Clone Wars, the first season of the Bad Batch, all 4 seasons of Rebels, and the two seasons of The Mandalorian. If we don’t sleep, it’s roughly 7711 minutes of Star Wars, which is 128 hours and 31 minutes or 5 days and eight hours. So, when you see us again is entirely dependent on how long we can go without sleep.”  
“I worry about you sometimes.”  
“ I’ve got to go. Ned just put in the first film.”
“Just one question. What is on the floor behind you?”  
I looked over my shoulder at the nest that had been put together over the past hour. Riri was settling into her spot. “That’s 6 mattresses, 19 blankets, and about a dozen pillows.”  
“Why?”  
“Couches are boring.”  
“Ok, now I’m worried about all of you.”  
“Goodbye Dad!”
Before ~~~~~~ Next
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deniigi · 4 years
Note
hello! rain city is wonderful and very upsetting. thanks for writing it, it's the first time I've ever hated Foggy. anyway, what do you think kingpin Foggy would think of Murderdock? Murderdock's got his intense love of all Foggys, but how would kingpin Foggy feel? In a lot of ways he's waaay more evil than Murderdock, and I have the uncomfortable feeling he would not appreciate a Matt that's his equal, completely uncontrollable and unblackmailable.
:)
I have written a little bit of this actually.
In short, he doesn’t give a shit about Murderdock.
Miles POV - I wrote this ages ago, so ignore the twin shit, but like the basic idea of this piece is that the Multiverse crew are trying to help bb Spidery Peter by finding his DD.
-------------
“What the fuck’s gotten into you?” this new Foggy demanded. “Are you insane?”
Murderdock’s sneering dropped into confusion.
“Jesus,” this Foggy said, shoving Murderdock back and standing up to dust himself off.
Murderdock remained super confused. Like, visibly confused. Confused enough that Peter pressed everyone back into their little hollow between the storage containers so that they couldn’t be seen.
“Is that—where’s the suit I gave you?” the Foggy asked.
“Suit?” Murderdock repeated.
The Foggy tsked. Murderdock reeled back in shock at the gesture.
“Useless,” the Foggy said. “The gray suit. I told you to wear the gray one. It’s labeled. I literally handed it to you. Christ. You’re better than this.”
Murderdock actually patted at his chest as though he’d forgotten what color he was wearing.
“This suit is? Gray?” he tried.
The Foggy paused and turned back towards him with dark eyes. His lip did something strange and he took a step in towards Murderdock. One slow step. He reached forward and gently caught a handful of Murderdock’s jacket.
“This,” he said patiently, “Is charcoal, dear heart.”
Murderdock latched a hand over the new Foggy’s wrist and held it there.
“Touch me again,” he warned.
And then he got slapped. Right across the face. Loud enough for the sound to be heard over the glugging of the water all around them.
Holy shit.
Gwen had to cover her mouth to muffle her gasp.
“You don’t get to touch,” the Foggy said kindly. “Did you forget, hun?”
Dear god.
Murderdock twisted his head back to facing forward in what could only be silent fury. Gwen started freaking out.
“Do it again,” Murderdock said out of nowhere with almost no rise or fall in his tone.
The Foggy—he was wearing a neat slate blue suit himself with a navy tie and a ring on his little finger—seemed to look Murderdock over, long and slow.
He sighed and shook his head.
“Matty, we’ve talked about talking out of turn,” he said.
A chill vibrated up Miles’s spine.
“Have we now?” Murderdock asked with the sound of a grin on his lips.
The Foggy’s expression darkened.
“You’re still talking,” he pointed out with his own, much lighter smile. “Let’s stop for now, hm? We have work to do.”
Murderdock, to Miles’s surprise, took a step back and let there be more distance between him and the new Foggy. The new Foggy considered this and then nodded in approval.
“I guess charcoal’ll just have to do,” he huffed, reaching cross the new distance to straighten Murderdock’s collar. Then he paused and pulled his hand back. “Are you wet?” he asked. “Why in God’s name are you wet?”
Murderdock, Miles was pretty sure, just grinned.
The Foggy frowned.
“You’re acting strange,” he said.
Murderdock played along. He shrugged one shoulder without speaking.
Gwen put a hand over her heart in anxiety.
“Hm. I don’t like it,” the Foggy said in a suddenly deep tone. Then he smiled wide and kind again. “You’re going to stop it. Immediately. Yes?”
“Yes,” Murderdock promised.
Why was he acting like this???
Miles was going to have a heart attack. Why??
A soft sound caught him and the others in their cozy alcove by surprise and they turned to see the Daredevil from before standing there, just as stunned as they were.
In a light gray suit.
Shit clicked into place faster than anything had ever had the right to.
Peter flailed in horror.
The other Daredevil panicked at his movement and looked all over, trying to hear what was happening down below, where the Foggy was still chatting softly with Murderdock, then he gasped so quietly it was almost inaudible. His shoulders rose and he jerked around only to be shushed by the rest of them.
They tried to explain as quickly as they could that that was one of their doubles of him, but the poor guy  was on the verge of an anxiety attack. He wouldn’t hear them and he wouldn’t stay, even when Peter and B tried to reason with him. Instead, he leapt down from the alcove and the sound of him landing was enough to draw the other Foggy’s—the other…Kingpin’s…attention.
The Kingpin stopped smoothly at the sound and lifted his chin.
Murderdock’s grin curled into his face.
“This is unexpected,” the Kingpin noted. “Didn’t realize you had a twin, Matty.”
“Step back,” Daredevil demanded of Murderdock.
Murderdock shrugged that silent shoulder again. But he didn’t move.
“I said, step back,” Daredevil growled. Which was weird because like, that was the Kingpin. And yeah, it was Foggy and holy shit that was terrifying in so many ways, but like.
Still the Kingpin. The guy who’d ordered him to kill his Spiderm—
Nevermind, Kingpin Foggy was the worst thing in the multiverse. On like. Every level.
“Make me,” Murderdock oozed at the Daredevil.
DD started to hunch over with no idea of what he was dealing with. None. Gwen stiffened.
“Stand down, Matt, it’s okay,” the Foggy said out of nowhere. “Seems like there’s been a misunderstanding is all.”
How was he so reasonable?
“I’m gonna puke,” Peter whimpered, crunched into B’s side. B shoved him away with an order to puke quietly.
“Might I ask who are you, friend?” the Kingpin asked down on the ground.
“I have many names,” Murderdock said.
“Well, I’m thinkin’ one is probably a good start,” the Kingpin said amiably.
His pinky ring was silver. It glinted ever so slightly in the dockyard’s floodlights.
“They call me Murdock,” Murderdock said.
“So you are twins,” the Kingpin said.
“Get away from him,” Daredevil ordered.
Murderdock sneered at him.
“Why? So you can carry on being his dog?” he asked. “Is that what you’ve lived your pathetic fucking life for?”
Foggy recoiled and touched his chest in surprise. Daredevil rolled his shoulders.
“Oh,” Murderdock said, straightening his spine. “I get it. You like it.”
“Matt, stand down,” the Kingpin ordered.
“You like it,” Murderdock goaded. “Bowing down to lick his shoe—you kinky fucker. Didn’t want the responsibility of choice? Too much? Was it easier to just…take it?”
“Gwen, your Kingpin is gonna get himself King-pinned to death,” B hissed over his shoulder. “We need to do something.”
“He probably deserves it?” Gwen said with a high palms.
B and Peter’s faces said that this was not the right response. She looked to Miles for support but he had nothing for her.
“Okay, okay. Hold on. Make sure they stay on the words and not the stabby things and I’ll be right back,” she said.
“I think you’re misunderstanding mine and Matt’s relationship, Mr.—” Foggy said.
“Murdock,” Murderdock repeated sweetly.
“Murdock. Right. Of no relation of course,” the Kingpin said. “But regardless, I don’t really appreciate you talking to—”
“Your things like that?” Murderdock finished for him like a man determined to die by falling on his own sword.
Foggy cocked his head.
“What is your profession, Mr. Murdock?” he asked.
“In my universe? Or yours?” Murderdock asked.
There was a pregnant pause. Miles held his breath.
Then the Kingpin laughed. Just like the Foggy back home did. He even reached for Murderdock’s shoulder the way that Miles’s Foggy did with Matt. Except Murderdock didn’t give him a little grin like Matt always did to Foggy.
Miles wasn’t sure what Murderdock’s face did. He couldn’t see it very well. But he assumed that whatever expression he wore, it was serious enough to make the Kingpin stop and reconsider. He left his hand where it was on Murderdock’s shoulder, though.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said. “In yours.”
Now, Miles knew Murderdock was smiling. Wide and white and horrible.
“They call me many things,” he said so that Miles almost didn’t hear him. “Matt Murdock. The Western Sun of the Hand. That bastard. But these days, folks in the know call me the Kingpin of New York City.” Miles didn’t have to see to know that that smile had gotten sharper. “And I don’t like to share.”
Miles held his breath. The Peters in front of him did, too.
But then Foggy burst out laughing down there all over again.
He patted at Murderdock’s cheek affectionately.
“You’re so cute,” he said. “And I’m sure you’re very scary in your universe. Hm. So cute.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Murdock. I have business to attend to. Matty? Come on now. Business waits for no man and all that.”
Daredevil withdrew and Murderdock’s face followed him as they rounded each other. Daredevil dropped his shoulders and face when he sloped off to catch up to his Kingpin.
His Kingpin watched this fondly and, when DD was at his side, took a moment to reach over and straighten his collar, just as he had done for Murderdock. He brushed a bit of dust off Daredevil’s shoulder and, apparently finding him in better condition, purposefully looped their arms together.
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thepoppypress · 3 years
Text
The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)
Chapter 4: 
Peter’s eye twitched.
“What do you think?” Dick, actually seeming a little nervous, gulped a bit. Peter almost smiled when he heard him, this being a big contrast to how he was when they first met. The cocky facade was down, probably due to Peter’s rejection of “help” from him.
‘Good,’ he thought with mild satisfaction before sighing. “What are you doing here Dick?”
“Just wondering about my uh-” Dick scratched the back of his neck, “gift?” Peter looked at him stoically.
“What about it?”
“Well, why reject it?” Peter’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly.
“It’s as I said, Dick,” he put special emphasis on his name, “I don’t need your fucking charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things.” Dick sputtered as the chestnut haired boy moved around him to organize his belongings.
“You need it though. Why not take it?” Not looking up, Peter replied,
“It’s the same thing with Slade. I can take care of myself.” Finished with putting his meager possessions together, he shouldered his backpack and made to move around Dick who percepted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look,” his voice became louder and a bit higher pitched, Peter’s annoyance at Dick rising exponentially. He was in the way of him getting to Harley, something Peter didn’t appreciate. The superpowered human took a breath.
“I can work for myself and earn money. If you want to get into charity, I can refer you to other people and/or organizations who can much more appreciate the work you’re trying to do, but I do not take handouts. I will not and you can’t make me.”
The handsome man’s face darkened at these words and Peter curled in on himself a bit, wary of the sudden dangerous aura that surrounded Dick, a far cry from earlier. It seemed that there were many sides to this man and Peter was more than hesitant to discover more. Dick, who noticed Peter flinching away, brought his features back to its pleasantness, aptly understanding that his interest was cautious and that he’d have to show more restraint. His eyes narrowed.
“Even if I can’t make you accept it outright, I definitely have other methods.” Peter grit his teeth and glared up at the blue eyed man.
‘Ugh,’ he thought as a phantom headache started flaring up, ‘this going nowhere.’ He might as well just leave. Peter readjusted his grip on his backpack and forcing his way past the hand on his shoulder, he walked around Dick and towards the exit of the shelter, ignoring the pouding footsteps running after him. Once he was outside, the footsteps slowed to a walk right next him. Peter peeked at Dick out of the corner of his eye and nearly groaned in frustration at the jovial expression on the handsome man’s face.
“Is there something you need?” Dick kept his face forward, though Peter could tell that his smile widened.
“Nothing at all. I’m just walking you home.” Dick turned his head to Peter, causing Peter to do the same. The grin was suddenly replaced by a smirk, and Peter got the creeping feeling of an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t be sure what it was yet.
“Whatever,” he muttered, pissed off. He couldn’t do anything about it, however, since all he would spout was nonsense about having to protect Peter. They continued to walk in silence for the next couple of blocks before they passed an alleyway. Deep within the darkness of it, Peter’s sensitive hearing could pick up the nearly silent sound of a whimper. His head snapped to the alleyway and the need to help the being that uttered the pitiful whine grew.
“What is it?” Dick asked, confused. Peter didn’t answer and made to head down the alleyway. Dick grabbed his arm in alarm. “What the hell are you doing?!” Peter shook off the hand and glared at Dick, putting a finger to his lips and silently shushing him.
“Be quiet!” He whispered and went down the alley, Dick following with steadily rising anticipation, hyper aware of the multiple weapons secretly stashed on his person, in case something were to go wrong. Both their footfalls were quiet and the whimpering suddenly got louder. Peter reached for his phone and put it onto the flashlight setting, searching for the source of the sound. A blue tarp covered a large figure of something and Peter paused for a moment, his Spidey Sense strangely quiet, before something underneath the tarp moved.
Quickly, the chestnut haired boy bent down and lifted the tarp, safely knowing there was nothing dangerous underneath. The tarp opened to reveal several buckets of cardboard and a small golden retriever puppy. It was on its stomach, shivering and looking up at Peter pitifully, brown eyes and golden fur wet. Peter’s heart broke and after handing his phone to Dick, who helpfully pointed the flashlight, he kneeled, reaching slowly for the puppy. It flinched and its whimpers became louder but it didn’t move away.
‘Or it can’t move away,’ Peter thought as he spotted some blood matted fur on the puppy’s right paw. As gently as he could, he gathered the puppy in his arms, shushing it when it let out a loud cry. He unzipped his hoodie and placed the puppy within, holding an arm underneath to support it and closed his jacket in order to get some warmth into the poor thing.
“Where’s the nearest vet?” He asked Dick, who paused to think for a moment.
“There’s one about a couple of miles away. Why?”
“I need to take care of it. Obviously.” Dick furrowed his eyebrows.
“You’re keeping it?”
“Of course.” Peter said it like it was supposed to be obvious. Dick stared for a moment before nodding and gesturing to him to follow. Peter nodded and they made their way out of the alley. He waited for Dick to lead the way before the dark haired man’s face lit up. He raised a finger and pulled out his own cell phone, Peter’s still in his other hand.
“Hey, can you come and pick me up? I’m on-” Dick rattled off their current location. Peter raised his eyebrow when Dick hung up, a cheeky smile stretched on his face.
“Who was that?”
“You’ll see!” He said cheerfully. And he did. Not five minutes later, an expensive looking black car pulled up in front of them. Dick hurried before Peter and pulled the door open for him, causing Peter to blush.
“Thanks,” he muttered, unaware of the satisfied smile on his companion’s face as he slid ungracefully into the warm car, careful of the puppy. Dick slid in after and gave another grin to an unimpressed looking (in Peter’s professional opinion) older man.
“Thanks for picking us up Alfred! Was it a bad time?” Still unimpressed looking (still in Peter’s professional opinion), the older man shook his head.
“Of course not, Master Dick. I am always available to help. May I inquire about your companions?” Peter stuck out the hand not supporting the puppy.
“Hello, Mr. Alfred! I’m Peter, an acquaintance of Dick’s. And this,” he unzipped the hoodie to show the puppy resting, now sleeping, in Peter’s embrace, “is someone we just found. It’s nice to meet you.” Dick squawked.
“Acquaintance?!” Alfred nodded, hardly fazed, and replied in his British accent,
“And you as well, Master Peter, but please, call me Alfred. Now, I assume we are to go to the nearest vet?”
“If you could be so kind?” Peter replied politely, glaring at Dick as he snickered which started to turn into full out laughing. Irritated, Peter elbowed him roughly, a satisfied feeling filling him as Dick clutched his side. The blue-eyed man leaned forward and clutched the back of the passenger seat.
“Alfie!” He called out like he was drowning or in immense danger. “He elbowed me!” Peter rolled his eyes as Alfred replied,
“It is not something undeserved, Master Dick,” in his kindest tone which, in Peter’s opinion, made it all that much funnier. Dick sputtered and Peter started to chuckle.
“The betrayal!” He whined, scandalized. The next couple minutes were filled with Dick’s overdramatic tendencies. When they arrived at the still-open-but-nearly-closing vet, Alfred turned over the driver’s seat.
“You are being much too dramatic, Master Dick.”
“I AM THE DRAMA!” Dick cried (if you know, you know). Peter scoffed with amusement and kicked Dick in the knee. “What?!”
“Are you going to get out? The vet’s gonna close if I don’t go now.” Dick sniffed and begrudgingly got out, holding the door for Peter again, who managed to not blush.
“Can you stay Alfred? We’ll be as quick as we can.” Peter’s eyes widened.
“Oh, that’s okay Dick. I can take care of this myself. You go ahead and head home.” He frantically tried to get him to go home, but apparently he didn’t want to. Dick shook his head.
“I can’t do that, Peter. You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone at night, even if you are a guy.” Alfred peeked his head out of the car.
“He is correct, Master Peter. It is especially dangerous amidst the darkness. So please allow us both to help and get you to safety.” Peter hesitated which allowed Dick to surge forward to grab the arm not supporting his precious cargo and gently guiding Peter forward into the building.
“You said it’s gonna close if we didn’t hurry right? Let’s go!” Peter sputtered.
“If I didn’t go! Not we!” He went ignored.
“Wait for us, Alfred!” With that, Peter was unceremoniously pulled into the veterinary’s building. He stumbled, jostling the puppy, who woke with a whine. He righted himself and glared up at the man with him, who only grinned momentarily before going to the front desk and ringing the bell. A crash in the back caught their attention and a frazzled woman came to the front, a frown on her face.
“Are you alright?” Peter asked in concern, joining Dick at the front.
“Huh?” Her eyes caught both of them. “Uh, yeah!” A fake smile lit up her face and Peter’s Spidey Sense thrummed to life, though a bit lowly. Strange. Though not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. “Anyway, what can I help you with?” Peter unzipped his jacket to show the whining puppy and the woman’s eyes softened.
“I think it has a cut on their leg or paw.” The woman, her name tag reading Dr. Tasha, nodded.
“I’ll see what I can do. This way.” She led them back and into an examination room. It was quick, as it turns out it was just a cut on the puppy’s paw. With some cleaning and bandaging of the cut and advising that they try to keep the puppy off their paw for a couple days, they were free to go.
“Thank you Dr. Tasha!” Peter called as both he, Dick, and Peter’s new puppy made their way out of the building. Alfred was still waiting like Dick had instructed. Dick opened the door for him again but Peter shook his head. “I’ll just walk.” Dick groaned.
“Petey, I don’t want to have this conversation again. Get into the car before I make you.” Peter’s features twisted but like he knew what was about to happen, Alfred rolled down the passenger seat window.
“Master Peter, I have known and raised Master Dick since he was a boy. I promise you he is a gentleman. He will not let someone such as yourself, or anyone be on the streets if they are not equipped. Neither will I. Please, for your safety, the puppy’s safety and our peace of mind, do let us accompany you home.” It was the look that Alfred gave him that did him in. Begrudgingly, Peter entered the open door, the puppy clutched in his arms and Dick followed him in. “Thank you, Master Peter. Now, where do you live?”
Peter listed off the address and sat back as the car started to move. A minute in, the puppy started whining again and gnawing at the bandage around its paw.
“No,” Peter chided, gently prying the paw away from the puppy’s snout, “you can’t do that.” The puppy looked up at Peter, now more comfortable with him and tilted its head in question, its large eyes curious. Peter, playing along, tilted his head too and raised his eyebrow.
“What?” It came forward on his lap and leaned its paws against Peter’s chest, raising its head towards his face. Peter stayed still and suddenly, a small, pink tongue licked his cheek, leaving little bits of slobber all over. The brown eyed boy laughed, which caused the puppy to become more excited. It started licking Peter all over and he laughed even more, gently pushing the puppy away and wiping away the slobber. “You are so cute!” Peter scratched along its ears and it barked adorably, tongue hanging out and tail wagging with vigor. “Yes you are! You are so cute!” It was as if everyone else in the car disappeared.
Dick, on the other hand, watched the scene with growing interest and horror. Interest because it was interesting to watch Peter interact with something else. Horror because despite Alfred’s claims of him being a gentleman, Dick felt the rising want to grab Peter and smother him. This was just too cute for him. So, with a red face and embarrassment, Dick turned, angling his body away from Peter so the innocent boy would be able to see the “problem” with him.
Peter heard the rustling of clothes and found Dick turning away from him. He frowned.
“Dick? Are you okay?” Muttering answered his question.
‘Weird,’ Peter scoffed internally. He turned back to the puppy, who he had found was a girl. ‘What to name her?’ He put it on a mental checklist.
“Is he a weird, bad man?” The small bark of response made Peter giggle. On the other side of the car, Dick hid his face and in the front seat, Alfred gave a private, small smile.
-----
Tony groaned.
“I’ve been staring at this screen for so long, even my coffee cup is sore.”
“I don’t think cups can be sore, boss. Also, I think the term you’re looking for is ‘coffee mug.’” Tony growled playfully.
“One more sassy word out of you, FRIDAY, and it’s reprogramming for you tonight!”
“I apologize, boss,” FRIDAY replied, sounding not at all sorry, “I was just doing my job.” The genius muttered under his breath. He cursed the day he decided to make AI’s. Speaking of days. Tony blinked.
“FRI, what day is it?”
“If you’re asking about how long you’ve been awake, it has been about 72 hours, sir. Stephen will not be pleased.”
“Shit!” He cursed. “Don’t tell him-” As if on cue, the doors to his lab slammed open and heavy footsteps approached him. He looked up at his husband of one year with a sheepish smile on his face.
“Don’t tell me what, oh dear husband of mine?” Tony stood up suddenly, ignoring the rush of dizziness that washed over him and backed up, his spouse matching every foot.
“Oh nothing, honey. Just that-”
“That you’ve been ‘sciencing’ again and have been neglecting your health? Again?” Tony froze, his back reaching one of the walls of his lab, and scratched the back of his head.
“Uhh. No?” Stephen hummed, blue eyes piercing down onto his husband’s.
“Lying, are we?” Tony gulped, eyes searching around for any modes of escape. There were none.
“No?” Blue eyes sharpened and Stephen gestured to Tony, who’s eyes widened when Capey (as Peter so aptly named it) lifted itself from Stephen’s shoulders and wrapped tightly around the billionaire as he gasped, floating behind Stephen as he led them out of the lab. He tried wriggling but no amount of struggling could get him free.
“FRIDAY?”
“Yes, Stephen?”
“Close down the lab.” Tony looked down at Stephen in exasperation.
“Wait! No, FRIDAY-”
“Of course.” Tony shouted all the way up to the bedroom, yelling across rooms and still struggling inside Capey. No one listened, of course. Stephen stopped in front of the master bedroom and opened the door, Capey and Tony floating through and softly rested on the bed, the billionaire still wiggling around.
Stephen, on the other side of the room, shut the door and immediately shed his outer coat, placing it on an armchair. Tony watched, still struggling to get free, his eyes confused and tired. His husband loosened his tie, taking it off, before reaching down to unbutton his cufflinks, and rolling his sleeves up. He looked at the man on the bed for a moment before snapping his fingers.
Capey released Tony and he sat up, about to get off the bed until Stephen snapped his fingers again and golden bands restricted his arms and legs, multiple glowing restraints latching his arms behind his back and his legs together, from his upper arms to his wrists and from his thighs to his ankles. Tony fell back onto the bed, landing uncomfortably on his inhibited limbs with a cry of alarm. His husband came forward to sit on the edge of the bed and with another snap of his fingers, Tony teleported. Onto his husband’s lap, face down.
His face burned.
“FRIDAY, turn on the recording camera.”
“Yes.” The sound of mechanical whirring came and Tony knew that the camera was on.
‘Shit,’ he thought before the belt around his waist was taken off and his pants and underpants were shoved off, the bands loosening to accommodate for his clothes falling down to the floor, leaving him just in a tattered T-shirt. The belt was thrown across the room, Tony flinching when it seemed to smack something.
“Wait, Stephen-” He was interrupted once again when he yelped at the feeling of a smooth and steady hand coming down on his bare bottom, the hands of a man of medicine and now Sorcerer Supreme (an assholish name if you asked Tony).
“Be quiet Anthony,” a rough, stern voice commanded. A golden band, seemingly thicker than those on his body came to rest at his neck and it seemed that no matter how much he tried, no noise could escape from his mouth. He looked up at his husband in horror, who smirked in response. “A new spell. Do you like it?”
Tony shook his head and another slap came to his ass. He jolted.
“It seems that the last punishment hasn’t made as much of an impression as I had hoped. We’ll have to try again. Oh, and,” Stephen paused and reached down to gently press against Tony’s bare cock, the billionaire moaning softly at the contact. It wasn’t long before he felt something constricting at the base. Tony’s eyes widened even more. “No coming until I allow you to. When I’m through, you’ll be begging. Won’t you, husband?”
‘Again,’ he thought through cry after cry as Stephen’s hand came down repeatedly on his ass, the hand eventually turning into a paddle of some kind, ‘shit. FRIDAY is definitely getting reprogrammed.’
------
“No. More. Neglecting. Your. Health. Do. You. Understand?” Each word that came out was punctuated by a harsh thrust into Tony’s upturned, presented, red, and bruised bottom, said man crying through the inhibitor around his throat, no sound coming through. The bands around his legs had long been wished away, though the restraints along his arms stayed where they were.
Tony’s face was mushed into a pillow wet with tears and drool, occasionally turning to the side to breathe.
It had been hours already, and while Stephen, being Sorcerer Supreme and knowing spells to increase stamina and strength, was not affected in the least, Tony had almost had enough. His cock was straining against the band at the base of it, sensitive and leaking everywhere, desperate for the release Tony’s body so craved.
Too bad Stephen had yet let him, though Tony had a suspicion that everything was going to end soon. Stephen grunted behind him, thrusts becoming sharper and Tony knew that he was about to come for the tenth time that night.
“I said,” a few thrusts with increasing speed and strength, and the band around Tony’s throat disappeared, releasing his voice, “do you understand?”
“Yes!” Tony cried through Stephen’s approving hum, and the blue-eyed man harshly brought the billionaire’s ass to meet his equally rough thrusting and pleasure, a familiar heat, a hot burn started to sear through Tony’s gut, wrenching tighter and tighter, the tightest it had been all night. Tony moaned loudly, crying for release. Stephen leaned forward, still bucking into his husband’s tight heat, and whispered into Tony’s ear.
“Good. Now, come.” when Stephen’s hips stuttered, the restraint around his cock disappeared and Tony came. Stars exploded across his vision before a bright whiteness overtook the stars.
“FUCK!” Tony screamed, body shivering at the explosion of pleasure, tingles shooting all over his body. It seemed to reach from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet, and his body convulsed. Stephen emptied himself into Tony and breathed heavily, staring down at the prostrated body of his husband, certain for sure that he finally got the message. Tony collapsed on the bed, eyes blurry with tears and off to sleep. Stephen chuckled.
“You can turn it off now, FRIDAY. I think he learned his lesson.”
“Yes.” Stephen stood up and went to grab all the things necessary for cleaning up. It was time for some well earned sleep.
-----
“Boss!” FRIDAY’s loud voice came over the built in speakers, jolting Tony and Stephen awake, the former groaning as he sat up too quickly. His entire body was sore, his ass even more so. Tony glared over at Stephen who raised an eyebrow, smug satisfaction showing on his handsome face. Tony huffed.
“What is it, FRI?”
“Peter’s gone missing!” Alarm and panic shot through both their systems.
“WHAT?!”
-----
“So this is where you live?” Peter paused in playing with Piper, his new Golden Retriever puppy, and looked at Dick who had long disappeared out his weird funk.
“Well, where I’m staying.” Dick raised an eyebrow at the dinginess and gloom that seemed to hang over the apartment building.
“Then who lives here?”
“My friend.” Dick hummed.
‘I wonder if this friend is willing to move apartment buildings,’ he thought with a devilish smirk. An idea was forming in his head and he knew just how he could get Peter to accept his favors. Peter opened the door and shouted a thank you to Alfred for driving him home. He hesitated, Dick staring at him.
“I’ll see you later, Dick.” With that, he closed the door, a wiggling puppy in his arms and made his way into the building, knowing full well that it accepts pets. His face was extremely red. Dick chuckled and Alfred pulled the car out of the parking space and onto residential roads.
“Alfred,” he called.
“Master Dick?”
“Remind me to call Kara when I get home and to look into apartment buildings close to the manor.” Alfred was silent for a moment before replying.
“Of course, Master Dick.” They were silent the rest of the ride home.
-----
“Harley? I’m back!” The door opened to reveal a tired Harley, who was likely asleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?” She shook her head.
“No,” Harley yawned and rubbed her eyes, “I was waiting for you.”
“Well,” Peter said with a smile on his face, “I have a present for you.” His friend stood at attention and waited. From behind his back, Peter brought forward a calmer Piper, who started wagging her tail as soon as she saw Harley. Harley squealed.
“OMG! Puppy got a puppy!” Peter huffed a laugh.
“Yeah, I supposed I did,” Peter beamed, happy that there was at least some sort of normalcy to this night.
“What’s its name?” Harley’s eyes were wide with joy, her baby blues sparkling, even through the pain that was evident.
“Her name is Piper. She’s your new rescue and support.” Harley sniffled with what Peter was guessing was happy tears.
“You mean, our new rescue and support. How did I ever get so lucky?” Peter smiled at his friend, genuinely enjoying their moment.
“You deserve it.”
------
“So….” Steph trailed off, looking at Peter with puppy dog eyes, causing Peter to roll his own. He was back at work, all his stuff at Harley’s indefinitely at the moment. The Captain’s Bar was louder than usual, he noticed, even with Slade there, sitting right next to Steph and Babs.
“So what, Steph?” He pointedly did not look at her, lightly scratching at a smudge on a glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steph stretch her arms over the wooden counter, a mischievous smile on her face.
“Are you free when you’re done here?” Peter paused to think for a moment. When he was sure there was nothing else on his schedule, he said yes. Steph’s eyes lit up, Babs’ nodding along, even though she was on her phone. “Great! Wanna hang with us at our usual place?”
Suddenly, Babs’ head snapped over to her, and the redhead pulled on the blonde’s arm to get her attention. “What? What’s the problem?”
Whispering commenced and Peter decided to stay out of it.
“Oh my God, just ask him.” Barbara groaned but typed on her phone, nonetheless. Steph continued to smile jovially. Finally, a couple minutes later, a notification appeared on Babs’ phone, obviously a confirmation if the way the blonde cheered was any evidence.
“Yeah, we have a hang out if you want to come with, Pete. It’ll be fun.” Slade side-eyed the trio, keeping a careful gaze on Peter, who didn’t take long to nod and agree with a small smile.
“Sure thing! Can I bring a friend though? She’s been going through a nasty break up and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” Steph and Babs shared a look and after a quick but silent conversation, both reluctantly agreed.
“Well,” Slade started, “if you’re going, sweetheart, I’m definitely going too.”
“I look forward to it, Slade!” The beaming grin on the cute boy’s face nearly made Slade blush. ‘Cute,’ he thought with an internal smile.
“I can’t wait to let you meet some others! You already know Dick, but there’ll be some other people there too!” A chuckle escaped the brown eyed boy.
“I can’t wait either.”
About an hour later, Peter, who had shot a text to Harley saying to meet him in front of the Captain’s Bar, met Harley outside and they went on a little adventure to Steph’s and Babs’ ‘lair’ as they called it. They were given directions, Harley nervously clinging onto Peter’s arm, and finally arrived at a large, elegant (as elegant as you can get for a club) gothic looking building. There were already bouncers outside of the club, even though it was only about 7 in the evening. Peter and Harley approached, Harley shrinking behind Peter.
“Uh,” Peter said nervously when they didn’t even react.
“Invitation only, kid,” the bouncer said, looking down on him menacingly. Peter gulped.
“Yeah, we were told to come here by Stephanie Brown? Do you happen to know her?” Peter wrung his hands, the bouncer’s eyes narrowing. He reached for the walkie-talkie hanging at his hip, talking into it. Deep inside the club, Peter could hear the
“Hey Steph, there’s a little guy and lady here to see you. Says they know you or something.” A chipper response was sent over the device and the bouncer shrugged and let them pass. “Just head straight, you’ll find a door that says VIP. Just say you’re with Steph to the guards.” They did just that, bypassing the guards at the door with ease, Peter’s Spidey Sense tingling strongly the entire time.
They entered the long hallway, and the door at the end opened, revealing a happy and smiling Stephanie Brown, Babs looming behind her with a gentle smile on her face as well.
“You guys made it!” Seeing Harley, Stephanie’s smile became a bit sharper, before the smile dropped altogether.
“Harley Quinn?” His friend’s grip on his arm tightened and he placed a hand on her’s to comfort her. Peter’s eyes softened and he took his arm out of her grip to hook it around her waist and pull into a one armed hug.
“Yup! This is the one and only Harley Quinn. She’s been going through a hard time so I invited her.” Steph and Babs’ faces, once hardened and suspicious, softened as well, hearing that Peter was willing to vouch for her.
“Of course, Pete,” said Barbara, her expression welcoming, “any friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Peter nodded, happy with the results and he could feed Harley relaxing a bit as well. They approached the door and Stephanie latched onto his other arm when he was close enough, giving him a goofy grin. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed in the room.
“Peter!” Dick was suddenly right in front of him, also grinning like a maniac.
‘A handsome maniac,’ Peter had to grudgingly admit.
“Dick,” Peter greeted with a monotone voice.
“Sweetheart.” Another figure joined their group, towering next to Dick.
“Slade! You made it!” Slade nodded, a semblance of a happy expression on his while Dick pouted.
“Why aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Huh, I wonder why,” Peter deadpanned. Dick got the message.
“Hey! I wasn’t the only one you know! He’s been giving you huge tips for weeks!” Dick pointed right at Slade, who was busy looking at Harley, tight against his side.
“But he’s not that large of an asshole.” A deep and familiar voice snorted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think they’re both raging assholes.” Dick turned his head and stuck out his tongue, and Peter leaned over to look at who it was. Unsurprisingly (and correct to his assumption), Jason Todd sat lounging on a couch with a book in his hands.
‘Jane Eyre,’ he noted, noticing the cover. ‘Not bad.’ Across from him was Tim Drake, staring at him and Harley. The analyzing gaze made Peter uncomfortable, but he supposed that’s who Tim Drake was. An analyzing, calculated and cold man. At least, he must’ve been in this world.
“Hey wait,” Jason said, his eyes also knowing, but now with eyes of lit fire and amusement. “Aren’t you that guy from the gym?”
“Yeah? What of it?” Jason stood up, straightening to his full height. The Spidey Sense, while tingly strongly before, was on full blast alarm now and it took everything in Peter not to react. The large male stalked across the room, ending up on Dick’s other side, also looming over everyone.
“You owe me a fight.” A feral grin crossed his face and Harley shrunk into Peter’s embrace. Peter tightened his arm and stared up defiantly at Jason Todd, anxiety high but also another emotion flitting around as well. Peter scowled.
“I never agreed to anything nor do I owe you anything.”
“C’mon, princess. Kids like you need to learn how to defend themselves. Besides, I’ll guarantee it’ll be fun.” Peter finally identified that emotion as enthusiasm. He had missed fighting and being able to use his powers. However, in a world where there weren't any superpowered humans, he doubted that it would be normal. He also needed to lay low in order to find a way home. ‘Can I even leave? Because of Harley?’ Peter glanced in her direction before returning his attention towards Jason.
“Fun for who? You? Because I certainly wouldn’t have fun.” Jason must’ve picked up at least some habits from his brother, because he pouted, though it was like if a wolf or an equally scary predator pouted. It was quite weird. “Besides, I’d beat your ass quicker than you can say Charlotte Bronte.” Slade laughed out loud at this, Jason joining in.
Peter knew that they were laughing because they didn’t think he had the chops but that was fine. They didn’t need to know anyways. Steph, Babs and Dick were laughing and there was a chuckle from Harley too.
“I like this kid,” Jason said as he wiped a tear away from his eye, “he’s cute.”
“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Peter deadpanned. Another harsh laugh followed as Jason returned to his perch. Dick and Slade moved out of the way as Steph pulled Peter in the direction of a table, two other people Peter hadn’t noticed due to Slade’s large frame sitting down already.
They were both focused on the papers that lay in front of them, though Peter could tell they were listening in and curious about the ruckus. Dick pulled out a chair for Peter and Slade for Harley, everyone in their little group sitting around them. Now that Slade was out of the way, Peter could clearly see who the two were.
Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Jim Gordon. He knew that they were friends in the original comics, but that was about it. Harley slid down in her seat and Peter grabbed her hand, rubbing a finger over her knuckles. She smiled weakly at him, and he returned the sentiment.
Unawares to them, the people around them stared at the action in jealousy.
“So Peter,” Steph purred, smiling brightly, “after Harley here, am I your bestest friend?” Peter knew she was quick, but he didn’t think she was this quick. He smirked.
“Of course, Steph. You and Babs.” The redhead snickered when she caught the betrayed look on Slade’s face. It was soon replaced with a sly expression however. Peter suddenly felt his left hand being picked up. His head snapped up to see Slade bringing it to his face, kissing the soft skin of the back of his hand and Peter blushed. Hard.
“What about me, sweetheart?” Steph and Dick burst.
“That’s cheating!”
“He’s mine, you old geezer!” Steph launched herself across the table and mushed her face into the side of Peter’s, continually rubbing against him like a cat, causing surprised laughter to escape from Peter. Dick gasped.
“Stephanie Brown!” He ran behind Peter and forced his arms around Peter’s neck, dislodging Steph’s face and pulled Peter back against his chest, rubbing the bottom of his chin against soft brown curls.
‘Heaven,’ Dick thought dreamily, ‘my little heaven.’ A sudden pale hand pushed Dick’s head away from Peter’s, though he couldn’t go far, what with his arms locked around his neck.
“No, he was mine first,” Harley pouted resting her head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter giggled and tried resting his head on her’s, but Dick wouldn’t allow it.
“You gotta learn how to share!” Some more squabbling went on, Peter assuring everyone but Dick they were liked. No one noticed Bruce and Commissioner Gordan watching nor did anyone notice Jason motioning to Tim to sit on the couch he was on, before standing up.
He silently approached behind Dick and pushed him out of the way, easily making him let go of the brunette. Peter, who barely had any time to react, was suddenly scooped up into a bridal hold, and he instinctively slid his arms around his captive’s neck, looking up at the face and seeing Jason. The older man said nothing, and walked back over to the couch where Tim was now sitting and sat down with Peter settled in the junction between his legs. Peter blinked before scowling.
It was about as cute as a puppy growling, trying to look intimidating.
‘Cute,’ Jason thought with amusement.
“What are you doing?” Peter’s legs, which were thrown over Jason’s large thigh, were suddenly settled into Tim’s lap, pale arms moving over and pressing into the legs.
“Wanted to see what the fuss was about,” Jason said while caressing the small of Peter’s back. Peter’s scowl deepened and everyone at the table migrated over the couch area. Harley flopped onto the couch he was on, right behind him and next to Jason Todd.
“Well, there’s no fuss so let me go.” Jason hummed, pretending to think about it.
“Yeah. No.” The older male picked up his book and began reading again, settling his chin over Peter’s locks like Dick did, with Peter’s ear to his heart, and arms on both sides of the brunette so he couldn’t leave. Peter huffed and tried lifting himself out of the hold, moving his legs as he did so.
It seemed that both Jason and Tim were anticipating this, however, and worked in tandem as a seamless team to keep Peter right where he was. Jason’s arms tightened exponentially, and Tim increased pressure on Peter’s legs. He grunted, realizing that he would have to use his superstrength to get out of this if needed. These people were just as dangerous as Steph, Babs, Dick, and Slade, if not more.
Peter was about to say something when the rustle of clothes and footsteps came over to where they all sat, Bruce Wayne first and Commissioner Gordan following. The Commissioner sat next to his daughter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head while Babs smiled and hugged her dad. Peter softened at the scene, some of his tenseness going away. Bruce Wayne sat in an armchair at the head in between the couches, exuding an air of power he doesn’t think even Mr. Stark had.
“Hello there,” the timber of Bruce Wayne’s voice made it sound like a bedroom voice, deep and heady. Peter flushed slightly but paid attention to him. Out of anyone he’s ever met, Peter’s Spidey Sense never reacted to anyone quite like it did to Bruce Wayne. Peter shrunk back a bit into the arm behind his back, and he noticed that Bruce’s blue eyes tracked the movement. It was as if he tracked every single movement, twitch, or shift he made. It was nerve wracking.
“Hello,” he replied shyly.
“You must be Peter. Dick and Steph have told me a lot about you.”
“Uh, all good things I hope?” The chest he rested upon rumbled with silent laughter. Bruce Wayne smirked.
“Of course. My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before. I’m the owner of this establishment.” Peter furrowed his brows. He remembered reading somewhere that Bruce Wayne, in the original comics, had owned a technology firm, Wayne Enterprises. So what was this?
“You own WE and this place?” Bruce nodded, hiding a smirk. Peter knew it was there.
“And a few other ones like it. It gets kind of stressful but my family and I make it work.” Peter nodded, filling some information in.
“I’m sure it does, Mr. Wayne.”
“Please, call me Bruce.” Peter wrung his hands.
“Uh…” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Peter glanced at Babs, Steph, and Dick, who all nodded. Peter gulped. “Okay then, uh, Bruce.” The head of the Wayne household smiled, a certain sharpness to it.
“Anyway, how do you know my sons?” The conversation spiralled from there with people taking turns talking and sharing things. They laughed at Dick’s expense when he explained what had happened, him whining the entire time.
Bruce sat back and watched as they all bickered and argued, but with no actual heat. It had been a long time since anyone around the household and its associates were this relaxed. And it all happened when one boy crossed paths with everyone. Even Jim, his old friend, was laughing along with some things. The softness of the atmosphere was nice.
Until the sound of Tim’s groan permeated the area.
“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong! Seriously!” Bruce raised an eyebrow as everything quieted around them.
“This is why we pay people to get this kind of paperwork done for us, Tim.” Said man scowled at his adoptive father.
“You know I don’t trust anyone else to do it but me, B.” Jason snickered.
“And you’re suffering for it. But by all means, Replacement, suffer more. It’s fun to watch.” Tim sneered at Jason, turning his body to argue with his adoptive brother, revealing the papers in the meantime. Peter took one glance at it and knew exactly what was wrong.
“You have the wrong exponent.” Everyone stopped in their tracks, staring at Peter. Tim blinked.
“What?” Peter stared back and pointed at the paper.
“You have the wrong exponent. There should be a negative here. It changes the whole situation if it’s a negative.” Everyone turned their attention to Tim, who changed what Peter had said and began recalculating. It was five minutes of silence later that Tim collapsed against the back of the couch in relief.
“Finally. You,” Tim looked at Peter in reverence, “are an angel.” Jason hummed in agreement.
“He sure does look like one.” He grinned like a shark when Peter looked up at him with wide eyes. Dick, curious to know, asked,
“How’d you know that, Pete?” The brunette, pointedly ignoring Jason, shrugged.
“I just do.” It was silent for a moment before Slade whistled.
“Beautiful and smart. If I wasn’t in love before, I am now.” The whole of Peter’s face went red and he hid it in his hands, laughter and bickering resuming above him.
Bruce relaxed in his chair, a twitch of a smile that was rarely ever shown on his lips. It really was nice.
-----
Harley, who had long explained the situation of her boyfriend to Steph who had prodded, left with a happy smile on her face with promises of a girl’s night, clinging to Peter’s arm. It was way past midnight when they left.
By the time they had gotten home, Piper, who was being dog sat by one of their nicer neighbors, was sound asleep. Peter and Harley cooed at the pup.
“You look so much like her,” the alabaster skinned girl giggled. Peter rolled his eyes playfully and the rest of the night was spent in a relaxed state. Truly, it was one of the best nights Peter’s had in a long time.
-----
A couple of days passed and Peter got around to finally purchasing dog gear for Piper. He tried to connect the leash to her collar, becoming fondly exasperated when she couldn’t stop chasing her tail to let him do it. Eventually, he just picked her up and connected it before heading out the door, informing Harley of their adventure on their way out.
He didn’t stay to hear the reply.
They walked a couple blocks to the park nearby. There weren't any incidents at first but apparently, when Piper gets excited, there is no stopping her.
So when she suddenly tugged on her leash, Peter underestimated her strength and kept his grip loose, causing her to pull away from him and run around the park like hell was on her heels.
“Shit! Piper!” He ran as fast as he could, trying to get her under control and failing miserably. It eventually got to the point where he nearly had her. She followed along a paved path and ran around the corner, Peter right on her tail when he crashed into a hard chest, obviously muscled and obviously male.
The momentum of him caused him to bulldoze the guy over, and they fell, Peter landing on top of the man. It took a second for Peter to regain his senses.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He scrambled off the man and looked around, seeing Piper starting to disappear in the distance. “Shit! No! Piper!” He called in the hopes of her actually listening and coming back. Big surprise, it didn’t work. The man, sitting himself upright, motioned for the large black dog behind him.
“Titus, go get that insolent puppy.” Obeying his master’s command, he jumped into action, running in the direction Piper was headed. Peter groaned and looked at the man, finding himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen.
“I’m so sorry, I was walking my dog when she got out of control and I had to chase her down and-”
“Spare me your useless babbling.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink. “It does neither of us any good.”
“Sorry. Again. I really am.” The man sniffed.
“Yes, I heard you the first few times.” Peter stood up and reached down, offering a hand to the man. He sneered but took it anyway, Peter using his superstrength to pull him up. He looked mildly surprised.
“You are strong, but you do not look it.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Look, I really am sorry. I can make it up to you, if you want. There’s a really nice coffee shop or something down the street. I can get you-”
“There is no need. I have already eaten today.” The chestnut haired hoy deflated.
“Really?”
And shit, if he didn’t look like a dejected puppy in Damian’s eyes. It was his ultimate weakness, his so-called hamartia.
“But,” he paused, asking himself if he was really going to do this. Yes, he was. “I am quite thirsty at the moment. Perhaps you can buy me something at that coffee shop.” Peter beamed up at the tall stranger, internally noting with a bitter tone that he was even taller than Jason or Bruce was. He did look familiar though. Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Where have I seen hi-’ Peter’s thought was interrupted when the large black dog came up to them, holding Piper’s leash in his mouth, Piper following along.
“Thank you so much for getting her for me.” The man nodded at his dog.
“It is not me you should be thanking, but Titus.”
“Is that his name? Well, thank you very much Titus.” The large dog came forward and Peter sank onto one knee and let Titus sniff his hand, scratching behind his ears when he licked Peter’s hand. Piper whined.
“You are in big trouble when we get home, missy.” He held onto her leash tighter. “Anyway, my name’s Peter. Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter held out his hand. The stranger took it, stiffly shaking it. Peter giggled internally.
“I’m Damian Wayne. It is nice to meet you too I suppose.” The brunette smiled.
“Let’s get that coffee now, yeah?”
Previous: Part 3
Next: Part 5
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mariemarvelbear · 4 years
Text
Korvac
Hope
Avengers x Reader
Warning: Angst.So much Angst.Slow burn angst.Abuse.Mention of rape.Brainwashed.ANGST.Blood.Torture.Swearing.Kidnapping.18+
Part 18
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“Come on!You can do it!” You could hear her sweet, joyful laughter from a mile away, it would echo through the halls and into each and every room in the house, and would cheer everyone up, it was at times like this that everyone just loved the blonde lady even more. “Come on Nathaniel!” Eviana cheered, watched the tiny toddler make his way into her petite arms, cradling him once as the two of them laugh. “You did it baby! Aunt Eve is so proud of you!”
“Hey!I’m getting jealous already.” Natasha exclaimed, carefully grabbing the tot and snuggled him in her arms.
Korvac’s brows furrowed as he watched the Queen took another breath,tossing in their shared bed as sweat trickle on her face- her raven luscious hair sticking onto her face. “What’s happening?” The King asked, fear evident in his voice as he looked at Victor on the side-the two of them watching the Queen sleep.
“She’s remembering them Korvac…. We can’t help it anymore.”   “Hi.I’m Eviana. I’m lost.”
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“Hello there.” A tall guy smiled, his golden fine hair glowing in the room where he stood tall in front of the child, hair just like his. “I’m Steven.Call me Steve.”
“But-“ Eve stuttered, stopping as she eyes the Captain’s attire “ You’re Captain America.” 
“Eh. Sometimes”
Eve giggled, smiled as she looked at the Captain- her emerald eyes drilling into his blue ones. Steve couldn’t help but think that he’d never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them. Soft wisps of that pale honey hair swept past her ear and caressed the skin of her neck, jaw, cheeks and around her rather beautiful, jade like eyes. Those eyes rimmed with thick, long, dark lashes that brushed her cheeks every time she closed her eyes, seemed to bore into him every time he looked into them and nearly lost himself, even though they just formally met a minute ago.
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                “What are you doing now?” Korvac asked, eagerness evident in his voice- worry plastered on his face. But the doctor didn’t answer, he took the stirring rod and mixed the eight potion that he was making for the Queen. “Will that work now?” Victor gave Korvac a look, glared at him and told him to shush and let him do his job. He was tired and weary, and yet he was working up until dawn- he understood Korvac though- he knew that the guy only loved the young lady so much for him to do such evil things. For them it wasn’t evil, it might not be just but Korvac was just doing what he wanted to do. He wanted Eviana, and he acted on it. Dr. Victor Von Doom, he was a great scientist, chemist and a renowned doctor. Some people would say that ever since he was a child-he was evil, but he would always say that he’s just wired differently. Others look at a squirrel and see something cute, but Victor would see something he can murder. But he doesn’t want to just shoot it though, he wants to see how long it can last while he disembowels it nice and slow. He wants to see the light go out in its rodent eyes while he examines its innards. It was not only for science nor his experiments. The truth is that, he enjoys it. He gets a kick out of it. And then he’ll record it on his phone, so he can play it over and over to relive the moment. When he grew up and started working abroad when his parents died- Victor met Michael. The two of them soon started a company with them being the founder and head chemists, they became rich as their company got recognized by different corporations, becoming two scientist who was the first to find the cure for cancer. Victor became happier when his childhood best friend followed him and worked for him as his assistant- She also left their tribe-The Gypsy; and stayed with Victor. As Valeria became one of the board members of their company, the two started spending much more intimate time together, Valeria always liked Victor- it was the doctor that hardly notice the lady, but as he spent time with her, Victor knew that he was falling for her already.  After some time, the two of them started dating- leaving Michael all alone. The latter became a left out, a loner, it was as if he was back to being his ‘pathetic’ younger self- a weirdo. He was becoming jealous of Valeria, she took his lab partner, his partner in crime and his buddy- but what Korvac didn’t realize was that he was jealous not of Valeria, but of his own buddy- Victor; who had a lover, a romantic partner- who had a girlfriend,someone who chooses him because of this thing called ‘love’; not because of the money he can offer,nor the fame he can give.
“Michael, Look.” Korvac’s train of thought was interrupted, the divinity quickly looking at the doctor-following his gaze towards the lady in front of them. The love of his life; His Queen, Eviana. “She’s getting stronger Korvac.I don’t- I don’t know if we can keep her away any longer.”
  “Tony.Tony.Tony, look at me.” Eviana whispered, voice lingering with care,love and a sprinkle of worry. “Anthony, don’t.Don’t go there.” The tiredness that begun a while ago remains like a veil over Tony’s skin, grey and cold. And as Eve caress his cold arms, Tony could only watch the creeping sorrow where there should be joy; over him. It sits like November rain on his skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. Enough to cover the warmth and happiness that he somehow felt, after years of being in the pain and agony he’s currently feeling-Tony was back at it again, and Pepper wasn’t there to try and soothe his pain away. He planned to just stay there in the cold, comfortably numb and hurting.But Eve knew better. “I understand it hurts Tony, I do. But please remember this Anthony, I love you.More than my life.”
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  Tony quickly woke up, his eyes shot wide open,his breathing was rapid and shallow as his heart beat raced each other, trying to keep up with his running mind -as if he was just chased by dozens of hound dogs; ready to eat him alive. He tossed around just to see his king size bed cold and empty, making him shiver as he clenched his mouth again; trying to stop his teeth from chattering each other. Everything then became a blur, his vision was getting darker and his head felt so light yet numb; yet it ached with so much longing.
“Eve!” Tony called, Fighting his way out of the tangled mess of his thick blankets. He continued chanting out her name, the name that his heart, mind and soul craved. The name that he wanted to stay forever, but was instantly gone in an instant; just before his heart was getting better and healed. Tony whimpered, he felt cold and alone. Brows furrowing, Tony’s hands quickly got a hold of his aching chest. He groaned, breathing heavily as his pupils dilated.Your lifeless body was the last image that flashed in his eyes.
“F-Frida….”
    “You passed out again Tony.” Dr. Cho sighed, a sympathetic smile plastered on her face as she looked up; adjusting the guy’s IV drip. “When was the last time you slept?” But before Tony can answer jokingly, she interrupted him. “Proper rest. At least eight hours Tony.”
The genius philanthropist heaved a sigh, raising his hands in defeat as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The light in the infirmary was bright enough to wake him up, abundant to make his brain cells work again as his mind think of anything to work on his suit. Even though he didn’t use them anymore, there were no aliens nor terrorists, nor random bad guys who wanted the Avenger’s attention. There were no one invading their world and he was getting impatient, He badly wanted you back. Even though he knew, that you’re now-dead. Something inside him didn’t believe it, And Tony badly wanted to agree.
  “Peter.” A loud bang echoed through the halls of the Avenger’s facility. A broken light bulb, now rolling onto the dusty floors. Sticky webs evident on it. “What are you doing?”
“N-Nothing.”
“I need to talk to you, Remember?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here Dr.Cho~”
“Okay Spidey, but before we go to my office. Promise me that you won’t touch any of my stuff.”
“There’s nothing to touch here Doc,Everything’s old,broken or useless. Just like the Avengers.”
Helen frowned. She never liked anyone touching her stuff, they were hers and they had their own proper places.Just like her perspective with the team, though they weren’t hers; Yes. But they were her only family, and she never tells them this but she’s always proud that she’s their doctor. That every after mission, how small or big their scars or wounds are- All of them go to her.  To see if their okay and well. Then they let her be; But she’s always there for them as they are for her, Just like her belongings. But now,there weren’t anything  nor anyone to even take care of.
“Tony needs your help.” And with that, Peter quickly stood,and in a blink of an eye he was already at the door. “Peter, No.” But the teenager didn’t budge.He stood still, his back facing her as his grasp tightened around the door knob. Peter stood there as the memories flash in his mind, the memories he had with Bucky, Clint, Steve, Wanda, Pietro, Sam, M’mbaku and there’s Tony. Peter shook his head, afraid that if he let himself think of him, He’ll just break down. Enough for him to go back to the arms of the old guy that he treated as his dad.The old guy that continues to deny the truth.
“What do you want Dr.Cho? I told you already, I have nothing to do with him.” Peter whispered, trying to portray anger yet fails;sadness evident in his eyes.
“He’s alone Peter.”
“He pushed us away!” Peter screamed, instantly; his eyes was filled with tears and sorrow. “How can we help him when he doesn’t even help himself?! How can he agree so easily?How can he be so fine with ‘Iana’s passing even though we all know that she’s not!That she’s out there.Alive and wanting to be found, wanting to come back.Back home.With us.” Peter finally broke down, his knees failing him as he fell to the ground;crying like a toddler. “She’s not dead Dr.Cho.You know that.We know that.” Peter sat there, dominated by a profound sadness-fatigued engraved on his worn face.
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Peter Learns How To “Drive Stick” (Spideypool)
“Oh my god, what is that?” Peter stared open mouthed at the vehicle truck contraption sitting in front of Wade’s storage locker. “What-- what is that?” 
“It’s a truck, Pete.” Wade said blandly, digging through a box of assorted keys before apparently finding the one he wanted. “When I asked if you wanted to go for a drive today, what did you think I meant?” 
“Honestly, I thought you meant sex.” Peter kept staring. “Not that you wanted to actually go for a drive in whatever this is. Babe this looks like a truck and a jeep had a baby and named it Volkswagen.” 
“Well, you’re not super wrong.” Wade scratched at his head as he looked the custom truck over. “Even though I only put the VW sticker on there because I thought it made me look cool.” 
“Oh my god.” 
“I promise its safe, Pete. A little wobbly and maybe a little rattly on the dirt roads but she runs like a champ. I’ve had her since I was a teenager.” 
“Running around in the wilds of Canada?” Peter asked dryly, peering in the surprisingly clean windows to get a look at the inside. “Because this looks like the sort of thing you’d find in the wilds of Canada. Just a free roaming truck-Jeep too feral to be put to any good use.” 
“I resent that. This baby--” Wade slapped the hood of the catastrophe cheerfully. “-- she got me to and from every hootenanny and cook out I ever wanted.” 
“Hootenanny is the least sexiest word I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.” 
“Worse than when I said you looked good with splooge on your face?” 
“I take it back.” A long suffering sigh. “Hootenanny is the second least sexiest word I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. By the way I was serious? The next time you tell me I have splooge on my face is the last time your dick gets anywhere near my lips.” 
“Heard and heard.” Wade grinned, entirely unrepentant. “So we going for a drive or what?” 
“I dunno.” Peter still looked unsure. “I mean, I’m not really one for drives in the country, besides--” he flushed a little. “--I’m not really comfortable, you know?” 
Wade looked at him blankly and Peter sighed out loud. “You are the literal worst. Remember when you jumped me in the shower this morning and then said ‘hey lemon whiskers, you know what would be hot’?”
“I remember you smacking me for calling you lemon whiskers....” Wade said slowly and if possible, Peter’s sigh was even louder. 
“Yeah, I smacked you for that. But then you said how you thought it would be hot if later today we fell back into bed and I was still--” Peter cleared his throat. “--full of you? Remember?” 
“Oh shit.” Wade breathed, eyes wide and mouth open, a literal picture of innocence if Peter hadn’t been so convinced his boyfriend was always up to no good. “Oh baby boy, I almost forgot. How are you doing?” 
Wade came around the monstrosity truck to put careful hands at Peter’s waist, gathering him close before palming over that always delightfully perky rear, kneading at the softness until his fingers crept down low and Peter whined a little, hiding his face in Wade’s shoulder. 
“Are you too uncomfortable for this sort of thing?” he asked roughly, grinding his hips forward into Pete and gently squeezing at him. “I forgot you were wearing a plug, baby. Christ that’s so sexy, I got so excited to take ol’ Nelda out--”
“....Nelda?!” 
“She’s an old gal, she deserves an old name.” He said mildly, still grabbing big handfuls of Peter’s ass. “Seriously, how do you feel? Sore? Tender? We can stop and take it out if you want.” Wade groaned at the thought but tried to keep his voice steady. “We can just go home, honey. I really wasn’t thinking. It was just such a pretty day and I haven’t driven her in weeks and--” 
“It’s fine.” Peter relaxed against Wade, making a happy little sound when Wade only held him closer. “I should be alright for a short drive. Just no-- no super bumpy roads, alright?” 
“Of course not.” Wade soothed him, dotting kisses at his ear. “We can take the old road that winds around the lake, it’s pretty well maintained and only a few miles. I’ll make this quick, Pete.” 
“Then we can go home.” Peter rocked forward suggestively. “Hm?” 
“Then we can go home.” Wade leaned away to kiss him on the lips. “Buckle up, sweet cheeks.” 
*******************
*******************
Nelda might have looked like something thrown together in an evil geniuses lab and used to race in the Wacky Races, but she started up perfectly, a low rumble and slightest vibration shaking the seats. 
“Nice, right?” Wade waggled his non existent eyebrows in Peter’s direction. “All those times I told you I was going to lube my chassis and you thought I was just watching terrible porn and having a wankfest? Totally wrong, I was out here working on my truck.” 
“Hm, the one time you say something that sounds like slang for jerking off and you aren’t actually jerking off?” Peter laughed at him. “Congratulations, you fooled me one time.” 
“Yeah, that’s right congratulations.” Wade muttered, and slid the truck into first gear, easing off the clutch so she wouldn’t jump forward. “You know how to drive a stick, Pete?” 
“I live in New York and also have webs.” Peter said flatly. “Why would I know how to drive anything, much less a vehicle that requires three pedals and a gear shift?” 
“I dunno, spider’s have extra legs. You should be able to handle it.” Wade mused, and got pennies from his change cup thrown at him for his efforts. “Ouch! Hey! Don’t slang change in Nelda! She might look like she puts out for quarters but shes a premium sort of gal.” 
“Are you going to talk about Nelda like she’s a real person the entire time?” Peter snarked. “Because I feel like that’s a little--” 
Peter suddenly went very very still, mouth snapping shut with an audible click, fingers digging into the seat cover. 
“Pete?” Wade glanced over at him, shifting smoothly into second gear as they left the parking lot, then up into third as they turned onto the main road. “You alright?” 
“Fine.” Peter squeaked, color climbing his cheeks until even his ears were red. “I’m just fine.” 
“Alright.” Wade didn’t seem quite convinced, but he fiddled with the dials of the radio until something twangy and guitar filled came on. “If you start getting car sick just let me know, I’ll pull over.” 
“Okay.” Peter squeaked again and Wade blew him a kiss, settling into the drivers side seat and opening Nelda up some more, the truck rumbling beneath them as he headed towards the lake front road. 
Oh god. Peter turned to stare out the window, eyes purposefully wide as he watched a few blocks speed by, thinking about anything and everything he possibly to keep his mind off of what was happening. 
Trees. Buildings. People. A dog. Another truck, I wonder if that guy named his truck, too. Probably something stupid like Bessie. More trees. Another building, oh no there’s a speed bump oh no oh no oh no--
Peter’s eyes slid shut when Wade slowed down to ease over the speed bump, and he nearly bit his tongue off when Nelda dropped gears, growling and shaking through the transition before they were up to speed again. 
“Pete?” Wade asked worriedly. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 
“God, I’m fine.” Peter gasped and tried to lean back in the seat, acting as unaffected as he possibly could. “I’m just terrified out of my  mind over your driving skills. You’re a disaster when you walk, I don’t have much faith in you behind the wheel.” 
“Eh, that’s fair.” Wade laughed at him and went back to watched the road and Peter breathed a tiny tiny sigh of relief. 
No way was he going to tell his boyfriend that the slight rumble of fucking Nelda’s engine through the seats was making the plug shift inside him. He was absolutely not going to admit that every time Wade changed gears and the damn truck vibrated he was practically seeing stars, the plug lubed up and deep enough in side him to slide directly over his--
“Fuck.” Peter might have whimpered when Wade turned off the asphalt and onto a gravel road. “I thought-- I thought you said the road was maintained?” 
“I meant maintained-ish?” Wade clarified, dropping Nelda back into second and letting her crawl along at barely twenty miles an hour. “As in, we won’t be dodging trees and giant potholes.”
“I hate gravel.” Peter muttered, grateful Wade couldn’t hear him over the noise of the road. “Oh god, I fucking hate gravel. Fucking bumpy pieces of stupid rock, I’m not going to survive this, I’m not going to survive--” 
Nelda rumbled over a particularly rough patch and Peter coughed to smother a moan, clenching his thighs together and dropping a hand casually over his lap to hide how hard his cock was. There was no way in hell he was going to admit to being turned on while in this stupid truck, Wade would never let him live it down. 
He was not turned on, he was perfectly capable of ignoring the plug, he was absolutely not wishing Wade would pull over and put him over the hood of this stupid contraption and fuck him six ways past Tuesday, he was not, he was not he was not.  
“I’m sorry, baby.” Wade put Nelda in neutral and pulled the brake so the truck didn’t roll and Peter looked up in surprise. “You don’t look like you’re having any fun.” 
“I’m fine.” Peter managed, grateful that at least in neutral Nelda was still enough that he could actually breathe. “Really. Just a little distracted.” 
“Yeah?” Wade’s smile was a hopeful and a little shy and honestly so endearing that Peter felt bad for not paying better attention. “Do you want to learn how to drive her?” 
“Oh... uh, I don’t think that’s--” 
“It’s easy, she handles like a goddamn dream.” Wade motioned for Peter to crawl over the middle console. “Come here. I’ll work the pedals so you can just get a feel for when to shift, it will be fun.” 
“I--” Peter was ready to protest again but Wade held out his hand and damn it he was a sucker for his boyfriend asking for anything with his hand held out so-- “Ugh, alright. Just don’t let us go too fast. I’ve never driven anything besides my little scooter.” 
“Yay.” Wade put his seat back a little so Peter had room to climb onto his lap. “Alright, can you see over the dash alright?” 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter settled onto Wade’s thighs and had to smile, because honestly Wade’s lap was his favorite place to be, and when a strong arm came around his waist, he smiled even bigger. “I love you, babe.” 
“Baby boy.” Wade kissed his cheek. “I love you too. Ready for your first lesson?” 
“...sure?” 
“Here we go.” 
********************
********************
Peter was terrified to drive, but Wade’s voice in his ear was low and soothing as he talked him through the different gears and the usual speeds to shift at, how to listen to the engine to know when to release the clutch and all that sort of thing. 
“We’ll start real easy.” He said confidently, his hand over Peter’s on the gear shift. “I’ll handle the pedals, you watch the road and I’ll help you shift. Here we go, right into first.” 
Nelda started rolling with nothing more than a little jump and even though Peter’s fingers trembled at the steering wheel, at least he was too stressed about by driving to think about how good the rumble felt now that he was feeling it through Wade’s lap as well. 
“Hear the engine whining like that?” Wade asked. “Go ahead and shift into second.” Nelda vibrated through that change and Peter’s stomach swooped, his core clenching. “Yeah, second is a little rougher of a transition but once we’re in third--” Wade tapped the gauge on the dashboard. “See that? When the engine starts whining at you like that and the numbers get that high, it’s time to shift again, right into third here we go. See? She runs great at third.” 
Peter gulped when Wade readjusted, his hand sliding a little further up Peter’s thigh. “Yep. Runs great. Third.” 
“Relax.” Wade laughed quietly, rubbing at Peter’s leg. “You’re tense, baby boy. Driving a stick shift is fun. Makes you feel like a speed racer!” 
“We’re going like thirty five miles an hour, not exactly speed racing material.” Peter pointed out and then instantly realized his mistake. “BUT WE DON’T HAVE TO GO FASTER!” 
“Oh we’re definitely going faster.” Wade shoved down on the gas and Nelda leapt forward. “Shift, Pete! Fourth gear!” 
They tore down at the gravel road, knocking and shaking and rattling over the dips and bumps, and Peter held onto the steering wheel for dear life, letting Wade control everything else as they dropped gears to skid around corners then punched it back up for the straight away, taking the road along the lake far faster than was probably safe. 
But Peter found himself laughing about it, cradled safely between Wade’s thighs and leaning back into his chest it was fun to send Nelda’s back end fish tailing and gravel spitting up behind them, and it was fun to hear the truck race when Wade opened her up on a flat patch. 
“Let me show you my favorite spot.” Wade said and Peter squealed in delight when he took the truck right off the road, slowing down quite a bit to bump  over a side road that brought them to a clearing right by the lake, hidden from view by the trees. 
“Oh!” Peter sat up to get a better look. “Oh, it’s so pretty here.” 
“Sure is.” Wade let his seat back a little more and put the truck into neutral, popping the brake so Nelda just idled for them. “See? Driving is a blast.” 
“It’s sort of fun.” Peter admitted, shivering as the truck’s vibration grew stronger. “Why does it-- why does she shake like this in neutral?” 
“Eh, I need to work on her a little bit.” Wade said offhandedly, brushing his lips over Peter’s neck before leaning back against the head rest. “But she’s an old truck and she’s got a big engine. Doesn’t run as smooth as the newer trucks but that’s what makes her fun.” 
“Hm.” Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek when Wade’s hands dropped from his waist to his hips, tantalizingly close to his ass. “Are we gonna sit here long, or--” 
“Not too long.” Wade tugged Peter against his chest, holding him firm at his hips with one hand, the other drawing idle circles at Peter’s stomach, slipping beneath the t shirt to press against warm skin. “Just wanna hold you for a bit, look out at the lake. That alright?” 
“Yeah.” Peter let his head fall back onto Wade’s shoulder, cramped but not uncomfortable in the drivers seat together. “Yeah, this is fine. Surprisingly fine. I didn’t know you were into Sunday afternoon drives by a lake.” 
“It might surprise you the things I’m into, pumpkin doodle.” Wade teased and Peter closed his eyes with a smile. 
The afternoon sun shone through the windows and kept them warm, a window down just enough to let in a slight breeze and the disconcerting arousal from earlier faded into something warm and lazy as Peter sat snug on Wade’s lap, the vibration of the truck not so much distracting now as it was sort of comforting, just a low sort of rumble that was more background---
“Oh.” Peter gasped when Nelda growled beneath them, Wade pressing at the gas just enough to rev the engine. “Fuck. What are you doing?” 
“What are you doing?” Wade asked, palming over the length of Peter’s cock in his jeans. “How long you been hard, baby boy?” 
“Christ.” Peter closed his eyes, lifting his hips automatically into the touch. “No, it’s not-- I was just-- it’s not really--” 
Another rev, another rumble and Peter saw stars when the vibration came straight through the seats and against the plug, shifting it inside him until it pressed at his prostate. 
“Oh my--” he bit at his lip trying not to whimper. “Babe, this is--” 
“Hmmmm.” Wade sounded positively devious as he worked the button and zipper at Peter’s jeans, easing them down his hips and hushing Peter’s half hearted protest. “Could it be that riding in my old truck is turning you on a teeny tiny bit, Pete?” 
“It’s definitely not.” Peter lied, gasping as Wade’s fingers dug into his cheeks, heading for the plug and Wade murmured, “Hug the steering wheel babe so I can see you, yeah that’s right, just like that.” 
Peter felt a little ridiculous like this, half standing in the drivers seat of Wade’s truck, hugging the steering wheel so his ass was up off Wade’s lap, his jeans down far enough at his thighs to effectively trap his legs together, but god the noise Wade made when his fingers found the base of the plug still stretching Peter open was worth it. 
“Uncomfortable, Pete?” Wade’s voice was nearly as low as the rumble of the truck, eager and wicked as he rotated the plug enough to make Peter cry out. “Want me to take this out?” 
“Wade--” Peter gulped in a rush of air. “We’re in public--” 
“No one can see us.” 
“--in your truck--”
“I’m game if you are, babe.” 
“--we can’t--we can-t--” Wade pressed down on the gas and Peter wailed, the vibration coming up from the floor, through his legs and straight to his cock. “Oh fuck are we really gonna do this?” 
“Only if you say yes.” Wade promised, teasing at the plug with his fingers, tracing the puffy rim as it clenched around the silicone. “Hm?” 
“Yes.” Peter dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel to hide his blush. “Wade, please. Please.” 
“Ah, Pete.” Wade mouthed a kiss onto Peter’s back and then started to work the plug from Peter’s body, both of them groaning out loud as the modestly sized thing pulled free with a squelch, slick and slippery and coated with lube and strings of Wade’s come from earlier that morning. 
“Shit baby boy.” he moaned, one hand playing at Peter’s hole, the other shoving his own pants down. “Shit, I wish I could see you better right now. I’d eat you out till you fucking screamed.” 
“Wade--” another rev of the engine, and Peter’s cock jumped, spurting sticky wet against the steering wheel. “--we can do that later, right now I just really need--” 
His head snapped back, mouth falling open when Wade just grabbed his hips and yanked him down and Peter cried out when he stretched around the thick cock, pleasure so sharp it was nearly painful as inch after inch filled him. 
“Yeah Pete.” Wade sounded absolutely wrecked, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises once Peter was sat all the way on his thighs. “Holy fuck, you’re still so tight even with the plug, damn it you feel good.” 
“Oh my god.” Peter couldn’t do much more than moan, effectively impaled on Wade’s lap and unable to spread his legs because of his jeans. “W-Wade--” 
“I got you baby, I got you just wait, just wait--” Wade revved the gas a few times and Peter nearly choked over it, over the rumble and the shudder of the big truck, over the way Wade’s cock jerked inside him. 
Wade slicked his hand over the still dripping plug then closed his palm over Peter’s cock, stroking him quickly and effortlessly and Peter about screamed. He wanted to move, wanted to thrust up into the slick grip, wanted to shove himself back onto Wade but he could barely move trapped like this between the steering wheel and the seat. 
“Fuck me.” he panted, whining and writhing and arching his back, scrabbling for a hold on anything to ground him. “Wade fuck me, damn it. Don’t just leave me like--AH!” Another press at the gas, longer this time until Peter could feel it clear through his core. “AH! Babe please--” 
“You can come like this.” Wade crooned in his ear, holding Peter down against his lap so he couldn’t move, stroking over Peter’s length until his boyfriend was babbling and rambling, clutching at him and clenching around him and-- “please please please please--!” 
Wade had never loved the rickety old truck more than when he floored the pedal and engine roared and Peter screamed as he came apart in Wade’s palm, grinding back into Wade’s lap and holding white knuckled onto the steering wheel as he trembled through the trucks motion. 
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Wade breathed when Peter finally went limp against him, pulsing weakly through one last tremor, shaking in Wade’s arms. “Pete that was amazing.” 
“Mmmblregh.” Peter mumbled listlessly and Wade chuckled, pressing gentle kisses every where he could reach. “Wade....” 
“Yeah baby boy.” Wade lifted his hips, still hard inside Peter and definitely ready to finish. “What do you need?” 
“....M’staring to suspect you didn’t forget about my plug.” Peter said tiredly. “And that you knew this rust bucket would get me all hot and bothered.” 
“I might have.” Wade hedged, pumping the gas a little just to hear Peter whimper. “Are you mad about it?” 
“Mmmm, no.” Peter sighed and stretched, tightening around Wade hard enough to make him groan. “Good driving lesson babe. Top notch. I think I’m good enough to get my license now.” 
“Uh no, I don’t think the lesson is quite over yet.” Wade rubbed against him again. “One more thing left to do, yeah?” 
“Nah.” Peter shook his head. “I think we should head back to the storage yard, put this girl back to bed. You ready?” 
“Are you-” Wade pushed down at the clutch and Peter shifted into first, Nelda growling beneath them and about making Wade white out. “Oh holy shit, you wanna drive her again?” 
“Scoot your chair up.” Peter wriggled impatiently and Wade obeyed in an instant, scooting up far enough so Peter could see over the dash and reach the gear shift easily. “There we go.” Another little wriggle and Wade really thought he might pass out. “You gonna make it?” 
“Let’s go slow.” Wade managed through clenched teeth and Peter’s giggle was practically evil. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna last like this.” 
“I’ll tell you what.” Peter craned his neck around to lay a sweet kiss on Wade’s lips. “When you think I’ve gotten good enough at driving stick--” he sat a little harder on Wade’s lap for emphasis. “-- we can call it a day.” 
“This is going to be an all day lesson.” Wade warned and Peter only grinned.
“Challenge accepted.” 
***********************
SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC! 
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spideyxchelle · 5 years
Text
To See About a Girl
or Share the Damn Bed fic that everyone is surprised I never wrote before now
He was bundled under a mountain of blankets in his college dorm. It was an effective tactic to shut out the cold from the bitter December weather, and shut out other things, too. 
After Christmas, Peter had retreated back to MIT to wallow in the quiet, empty campus. December 28th was the one day a year he didn’t like to do anything other than climb under blankets and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. 
It had been five years since Ben Parker had died. The ache on the anniversary of his death was still as fresh as that first night he lost his Uncle. After all, it had been his fault. They had been fighting— his Uncle had accused him of keeping secrets— and Peter had snuck out the window. Scared for his nephew’s well-being, Ben Parker had wandered out into the dark, cold December night and never come home.
Peter had wondered, for years, if instead of sneaking out and causing his Uncle to follow him, if he had sat Ben down and told him the truth if he might still be alive. He knew his Uncle would have understood. He hoped his Uncle would have been proud. 
Instead, he was buried six feet underground.
Peter tugged the blankets over his head. There he laid for several hours in blissful, uninterrupted silence until his day took an unexpected turn. 
His spider-sense flared when the front door of his dorm room clicked open softly. He did not sense anything dangerous, so Peter remained the apathetic lump under his duvet. 
His mattress dipped when the intruder sat on his bed. A warm hand shook his shoulder and he rolled in the opposite direction. Annoyed, the hand flicked him. “Ouch,” he grumbled, yanking his blankets down. His eyes found Michelle Jones sitting on the edge of his bed and she was glaring down at him. He flushed, caught pathetically burrowing into his bed only three days after Christmas, “Oh, uh, hey MJ.”
“What are you doing here, Parker?” she asked. 
“Napping,” he said grandly, gesturing down to his unwashed pajamas and blankets. 
She rolled her eyes and threw one of his blankets in his hamper, “Not in bed, dork. Here. MIT. Why aren’t you home? It’s the holidays.”
“I had some research to catch up on,” he lied.
“In bed,” she said flatly. “You had some research to do in bed.” Peter pulled the blankets that were left back over his head. Michelle sighed, “May is really worried. She woke up this morning and you were gone. Just like—“
“Stop,” Peter peaked out from under his blankets. “Please don’t.” He knew what his leaving looked like on December 27th. Leaving May that morning to head back to school was not unlike the day Ben died. He had snuck out then just like he had that morning. Peter was not trying to hurt May, but being in their little apartment with Ben’s clothes still in the closet was too much to handle. So, he fled.
Michelle brushed an unruly lock of hair out of his eyes, gently, and said, “You should be home with your Aunt. She needs you today.”
“Did she call you?”
She nodded, “She knew my family came up here to celebrate Christmas. She knew I was in town.” He silently mused that his Aunt knew about his big, fat crush on MJ and if anyone was going to be able to get him to go back down to the city it would be her. May Parker was an evil genius. 
“Can’t I stay in bed?” Peter gripped his blankets. 
His best friend tore away his sheets and snorted, “No. Get up.” Then, she threw a pillow at his face, “And shower. We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us and I don’t want to get caught up in this storm.”
He complained but pulled himself out of the safety of his bed. Michelle perched herself on his standard-issue desk and waited. Peter flushed, “Are you really going to sit there?”
“Can you promise me that you won’t run?” she countered.
Peter sighed and grabbed his towel and some clean clothes. He groused, “Just once. You think I would win an argument with you just once.”
Michelle was looking through the hefty pile of books scattered on his desk distractedly, “You would think.”
The steady pressure of the water against his back lulled Peter into the strangest sense of timelessness. He could have stood under the warmth of the water for hours, washing away any distressing thought of his Uncle. He wanted to spend the next fifteen days in the shower, naked and alone. It was a far cry better than going home to his Aunt and being faced with the responsibilities that burdened him there.
He could have been in the shower for fifteen minutes or forty days, but the spell was broken when Michelle yanked open the shower curtain. He yelped and scrambled for anything to cover himself. “Jesus, Michelle,” he crossed his hands over his exposed parts. “What are you doing?”
“Please,” she reached into the shower and turned the faucet off. “You’ve been in here for forty-five minutes. You are not going to outlast me by retreating into the shower.”
“I’m naked,” his voice broke.
“I’m not looking,” she said and she finally looked self-conscious. He could not dampen the small voice in the back of his head wished she had been. “And even if I were,” she breathed, trying to regain her composure, “your dick is not God’s gift, Parker.” She shoved a towel in his arms, “Dry off. Change. We have to get on the road.”
The five hour journey from MIT to Queens was long enough without the snow slowing down the roads. Michelle’s shitty car seemed to whine with each mile further they got to New York. He tried to bring it up, but she turned the music up to drown him out. She did not allow anyone to speak ill of Suz, her gender-neutral sedan. In high school, when she had won some poetry contest, she used the money to buy her car and it had been the apple of her eye ever since.
Michelle didn’t have any pets—she often said she didn’t have the constitution—but her car Suz was as close to a furry companion as anything.
Beyond the music and the whining of Suz, the car was icy silent. Two hours into their journey, Peter found the courage to ask, “How pissed are you at me? Scale of one to ten?”
Michelle dryly laughed, and it was not a kind sound. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “You left your Aunt three days after Christmas on the anniversary of her husband’s death. How mad do you think?”
Peter ducked his head in shame. Michelle always had a way to cut straight to the heart of any matter. She did not mince her words. They were her greatest weapon. She wielded them with endless grace, but stunning truth. She was not the kind of woman that let him off easy. He had the rest of the Avengers to make excuses for him and, often, Tony did just that.
Peter played with his shoelaces. Michelle glanced at him. Peter did not look back. She huffed and looked back at the road.
“I hate today,” he finally said.
“So does May,” Michelle replied.
“I know,” Peter nodded. “I just—I killed him MJ.” And when he said it, when it said the thing he had thought for years, out loud something inside him broke. Tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t keep the thick emotion from his voice when he repeated, “I killed him, Em.”
He felt her peel off to the side of the road as he cried. Now that the nasty, evil thought was out in the open, he could not banish it to the depths of his mind. He wished he was back in his bed at school, cut off from the rest of the world to hide from his demons. How was he supposed to look at May today when he was the reason her husband was dead? He was the reason her closet was filled with clothes that had been untouched for five years. He was the reason there was an empty spot in her bed. He was the reason she was alone.
“Peter,” Michelle said softly, cupping the back of his head with her hand. She rested her forehead against the side of his head. “Peter, it isn’t your fault.”
He shook with tears, “It is.”
She shook her head, “No, it isn’t.”
“He came looking for me,” Peter said. He knew that his Uncle had only gone out that night because Peter had snuck out. He never would have run into that robber fleeing Delmar’s if not for Peter.
“You didn’t kill him,” she said more fiercely. He felt her sweetly kiss his head and he hid his face in his hands, descending into a deeper fit of tears. “You didn’t kill him, Peter,” she said, again. She said it over and over again until his tears turned from a river to a stream to the light rain as the clouds clear after a storm.
He let her hold him. He let her whisper encouraging words into his hair. He let her see him cry and when the torrent had subsided, he let her hold him a little longer. Michelle’s arms were better than the camouflage of his blankets.  
The sky was dark and the snow was still pounding down when the haze of his crying lifted. His head ached from the intensity of his tears. He sniffled, “Shit. I’m sorry.”
She ran her hand up and down his back, “Don’t apologize.”
“I should have been home with my Aunt.”
Michelle nodded, “You should have, but don’t apologize for feeling, Peter. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to feel that. All of it.”
He turned his face and his breath caught. She was so close. He could have leaned in another inch and they would have been kissing, close. Their proximity did not seem lost on her either. She moved away from him and looked at the directions on her phone, “We, uh, should get going.”
Peter peaked outside, “The snow is coming down really heavy, Michelle. And we’re still, like, three hours from Queens. We can’t be driving in the dark.”
Michelle sighed, “What do you suggest, then?”
“We gotta find a hotel.”
The nearest hotel was a twenty minute drive from the roadside where Peter had fallen apart. The last twenty minutes of their drive was thick with awkwardness and Peter did not know how to break the tension. He did not know what to say to someone who he had openly wept on. She did not seem to know, either, which was a comfort.
When they parked, Peter slung his backpack over his shoulder and curiously looked at Michelle, “You didn’t pack anything?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, “Uh. I didn’t think we’d need to stop somewhere for the night.”
“Oh,” Peter felt his cheeks turn bright red, “You can sleep in your—”
She raised her eyebrow, “I’m not sleeping in my clothes. I have to drive in them tomorrow. That’s gross.” They walked into the lobby of the little hotel. She continued, “I’ll just buy something here, if they have it.”
The jolly woman at the front desk took in the sight of the both of them and immediately cooed, “You poor dears. You must be freezing!”
Michelle reached into her bag for her wallet, “We called about your extra room about twenty minutes ago? I’m Michelle Jones.”
“Yes,” the lady began to plug away at her keyboard. The harsh winter did not seem to frost her sunny mood. Peter smiled. “Miss Michelle Jones. I have your reservation right here. One Queen sized bed in a non-smoking room.”
Peter stopped smiling. “Uh.”
Michelle gulped, “No, uh, you see, we’re not…it’s not. We need two beds, please.”
The sweet old lady blinked, “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. We only have the one room. Everyone is bundled up for the storm.”
Peter’s head swam. He did not think it had anything to do from the crying he had done. The fuzzy feeling taking over his thoughts was the idea of Michelle Jones in his bed. All night long. Sleeping next to him.
The thought alone was enough to level him. The reality was going to be so much worse.
Michelle brushed some hair out of her eyes and tightly smiled, “That’s fine. Right, Peter?”
Peter could not speak. His voice ceased to work. All he could manage was a squeak and a nod.
The room was so much smaller than Peter was expecting. He stared down at the bed, the one bed that he was meant to share with Michelle, and exhaled. He could totally sleep in the same bed as Michelle. They were best friends. They had known each other for years. The bed was just a bed. If he could beat Thanos, he could conquer one night in a bed with Michelle.
He glanced at the bathroom door. She had retreated into the bathroom as soon as they checked-in. She had bought some kind of pajamas for bed from the lobby and had no come out since.
Peter sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands together. Then, he stood up. And sat back down. And stood up. He paced, too. Nothing about the room felt natural. Even standing felt unhuman.
The bathroom door clicked open and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Michelle Jones was wearing a light blue silk camisole and matching shorts. He hesitated to even call the scratch of fabric shorts, but he did not allow himself to look at her long enough to inspect them further.
Peter turned around, “Oh, uh. Sorry.”
Michelle padded across the room and crawled into the bed that was more pillows than bed. When she was safely under the blankets, she rolled her eyes, “Its just pajamas.”
His voice jumped in an unmanly manner, “Those are not pajamas.” She snapped, “It was all they had, okay?”
“Are those for kids or something?” Peter finally looked over at her.
Her eyes flashed with something that Peter could not discern. “Oh,” she whispered, “I thought I looked nice.”
He was utterly dumbfounded. The rational part of brain implored him to say something. The spooked, slightly aroused dictator of his thoughts rendered him silent.
Without another word, he crossed the room to his battered backpack. It had seen too many years of combat. He peaked at what he had packed in the haze of his sadness and found three different pairs of jeans and four scratchy flannels. “Aw shit,” he mumbled. Michelle sat up, “What?”
“Just,” he rubbed his face, “I didn’t pack anything to sleep in.”
She snuggled back into the duvet and three away two gratuitous pillows, “Just sleep in your boxers.”
“But—”
She raised her eyebrow, “We’re both adults. It’s fine, Peter.”
It did not feel fine, but he did not know how he could explain his hesitation with sleeping in his boxers. The truth, that he liked her, was not a viable answer. Before he lost his nerve, he shucked off his shirt and jeans, which felt like the wrong thing to do a moment too late.
Michelle was sitting in their bed with almost comically wide eyes. He blinked at her. “Oh, uh. Sorry?”
She cleared her throat and shook her head one too many times to be normal, “Its cool.”
“Cool,” he repeated, dumbly.
There was a long beat of silence, too long, before Michelle said, “Get in bed, Peter.”
He jumped, “Right. Duh. Of course.” He timidly slid into the bed. He could have measured the distance between them. She was close enough that he could feel her heat radiating, but they were not close enough to even brush fingertips. He was as far away from her as humanly possible. It was self preservation.
The pair of them laid in the bed staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, until Michelle said, “Well, goodnight.” She turned on her side and turned the light off.
In the last wisps of light, he replied, “Goodnight.”
Peter woke in the middle of the night with something tickling his nose and something warm folded in his arms. His nose tried to wiggle away from the tickle, but his arms remained snuggled around the thing in his arms, with panic he realized, or a person.
He did not dare move or breathe or anything when he grasped the thing in his arms was indeed a person, or more specifically, Michelle. Peter decided to try and unwind his arms from around her, but before he could move he heard the softest bell of a voice speak into the darkness, “I like you so much, Peter.” The words were quiet enough that he knew they did not belong to him. They were meant to be kept in the quiet parts of the soul that people kept for themselves, not telegraphed to the world at large.
Yet, his heart leapt. She liked him.
Holy shit. She liked him.
Peter did not mean to, but his excitement boiled over and he pulled her closer against his chest. She froze in his arms, and he went eerily still.
“I—” she stuttered.
He found some kernel of courage and whispered in her hair, “Shh.”  
Neither of them spoke. Neither dared shatter the crystal palace of silence that enveloped them both between the warm sheets of their shared bed. Peter’s adventurous yet cautious hands traveled down her side and dropped with the curve of her waist. The heat of her skin was trapped by the soft silk of her nightshirt. He heard her breath catch when his hand flattened out on her pelvic bone and his own heart raced. 
“You should be sleeping,” she tried to joke, but the humor was wrapped in a pitiful gasp that went straight to Peter’s dick. He felt himself rally to attention and, with his hand on her stomach, yanked her backside against his stiffness. She mewled. 
He shook his head, “I can’t sleep. Not now.” Peter buried his nose in her curls, “Maybe not ever.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she lightly protested. Her ass fit snuggly against his hardness and he nearly bit his lip hard enough to draw blood when she breathlessly moved her hips. He understood the insatiable itch she was tying to scratch. The last year had been filled with dizzying daydreams of her in variations of this exact position. He had palmed himself raw imagining the sounds she might make and the way she might look as he made her cum again and again. 
But those had been just daydreams. 
The real, solid Michelle was not as wild as he had guiltily dreamt. She had whispered her secret, her feelings, to a silent room in the hopes that he would never hear her, that he might never know. It was all together softer and more gentle than any twenty year old boy had the faculties to imagine. And yet, he would not trade this Michelle for any number of imaginary MJs.
Peter guided his hand up the length of her torso, abandoning the soft silk bunched above her pelvis. Her shoulders rolled back into his solid chest as if she was trying to meld their heated bodies together and he pushed himself against her backside in an uneven rut. 
“Peter,” she gulped. He cupped her breast through the tantalizing fabric. She gasped. His helpless hips shuttered against her body. 
“I’ve wanted this for over a year,” he managed to say in a positively wrecked timbre. “You have no idea,” he swallowed thickly, “no idea what you do to me.”
She burrowed back against his dick, “I have some idea.” He squeezed the mound of flesh in his hand and her head fell back against his shoulder, leaving her long neck exposed. Peter eagerly kissed the skin bathed in moonlight. The most he could see of her from behind was shadows, but he could envision how she looked. Radiant. Gorgeous. Ethereal. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she mumbled as her hips began to roll back against his own, setting a clunky and heady rhythm. The flimsy bed clothes they had found in the lobby felt more like water, at any moment capable of gliding away, than clothes. Michelle reached for his hand that was covering her breast and brushed it aside. 
She shimmied the silk aside and left her breast bare for him, and when she grabbed his hand and guided it back to the now free flesh, Peter could have fainted. Her nipple pebbled in his grasp.
Michelle crossed her legs to alleviate some of the pressure building between and Peter shook his head into the curve of her neck, “Don’t do that.” The free arm that was trapped under her head itched to slip down between her legs and touch her. He wanted to be the pressure between her legs. He wanted to fill her up and kiss her mouth as she came apart. 
Michelle snorted, “You’ve got one hand.” Peter grumbled and reluctantly unwound himself from around Michelle. She sounded equally displeased. “What’re you—?”
He rolled her onto her back and Peter looked down at her. The limited light from the night sky did not show the depths of her features, but he knew her face with his eyes closed. Michelle blinked up at him and he looked back. His eyes flirted down to the exposed breast he had been palming moments before and he eyes darkened. MJ, flushed with a rare spout of embarrassment, tried to cover herself, but Peter linked their fingers and moved her hand away. He shook his head, “You’re beautiful.”
He released her hand and returned to her half-covered chest. Peter pulled the silk down and stared at her naked breasts. In the limited light, he swore he spotted some freckles. In need of a closer look, Peter ducked his head down to kiss each breast. He hummed, “You do have freckles.”
Michelle panted, “You never answered—oh—my question.”
“I’m kissing your tits,” he said somewhat impatiently, as his mouth laved the skin over and over again. He cupped each breast in each of his hands and peppered kisses everywhere he could imagine. 
She wound her hands in his dark hair, “No. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He nuzzled his face between her breasts and breathed deeply, “I didn’t know you felt the same.” It did not seem in the realm of possibilities that she could ever like him. Michelle Jones was the smartest, fiercest, and most beautiful girl he had ever known. He was just Peter. He counted himself lucky to be considered her friend, but anything else had felt so distant and stupid. 
Now, he was buried between her tits and reveling in the knowledge that she liked him, too. If he woke up from a dream now, he would be devastated. 
“Why would you?” He continued. “Who am I next to you? You deserve, Jesus, you deserve the smartest, most handsome, kindest...tallest man in the world.”
Michelle shook her head and touched his face. He lifted his head from her chest and looked up into her eyes. She was heart-arrestingly earnest when she said, “I don’t need the smartest, most handsome, kindest...or tallest man in the world.” Michelle urged him up so his face was hovering just above her own. Her fingertips brushed down the side of his face, “I just need you.” 
Peter teasingly smirked down at her, “Are you saying I’m not the smartest, most handsome, kindest AND tallest man you’ve ever known?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and shrugged, “Eh, definitely not the tallest.”
Laughter crackled out of him, “I’m hurt.”
“You’ll live,” she mumbled, and drew his face down into a searing kiss. Their first kiss. 
It startled him. He had imagined a lot of firsts with MJ, but somehow he had forgotten their first kiss. He supposed it was for the better. He had no expectations or hangups about how it should be. 
And it was perfect. 
Of course it was. She was Michelle Jones. With her, everything always was. 
The tentative swipe of her tongue startled him, but not more than the downright feral growl that rumbled out of his chest. He cupped the back of her hand and fisted his hands in her curls. The push and pull of their mouths was sweeter than any kiss he had ever shared. She eclipsed every past kiss. She wiped the roster clean of every name until the only one he knew with perfect clarity was Michelle Jones.
With a firm push, she knocked him on his back and climbed on top of his body, bracketing his legs between her thighs. Her form was illuminated by the stars pouring through the window. The shimmery silk captured the light and reflected it in a way that was utterly rapturous. He rested his hand on her waist and blinked up stupidly at her, “Fuck me.”
She slid her palms up his chest and the scratch of her nails was a pleasant bite. Michelle sinfully pushed his shirt up until it was bunched under his neck and smirked, “Say please.”
He blushed, “I didn’t mean—“
She shushed him with a kiss, “I know.”
“Not that I am not really, you know—“
Michelle laughed, bright and beautiful, “I know that, too. I can feel it, remember?” And then, as if to remind him, she ground down against his erection. 
He grabbed the curve of her waist as if to stabilize himself. “If you’re trying to kill me, you’re doing a pretty good job.”
She leaned down over him and he felt their bare chests brush. His grip tightened. “Promise, I’m not.” When she kissed him again, her tongue swiped against his top lip. It was a display of debauchery. He was painfully aroused. He wanted to touch her. Really touch her.
As she kissed him like she wanted to break him, Peter teased his hand between their naked bodies and reached the silk shorts that were pretending to be pajama bottoms. 
He played with the ineffective waistband and she gasped into his mouth. Emboldened, he ventured beneath the fabric and found her wet and wanting. The moisture gathered between her legs was indisputable proof that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He grinned. 
And brushed his thumb against her clit. Her shoulders shivered and her mouth stalled in the endless quest to make him melt. He moved his finger again and her breath hitched, high and whiny. 
“God, look at you,” he rumbled. “So perfect and wet.”
She almost hiccuped, “Don’t be so smug.”
“I’m not,” he kissed her brow. “It’s sexy. You’re sexy.” To prove it, he coated his finger in her slickness and dipped an eager finger inside of her. The noise she made when he entered her was unholy. It was between a cry and a groan.
She dug her nails into his chest and sat up on his pelvis. “Peter,” she sighed, and, like some heaven sent angel, she began to ride the finger he arched up into her. He added another impatient finger and her head fell forward. All of her curls were framing her face like a curtain. 
He almost forgot about his own erection until she boldly ducked her hand under his boxers and grabbed his hardness. His rhythm, pumping in and out of her, faltered. A river of shivers fled down his back. 
She cupped the base of his dick and flirted to the head. Her own tempo was not consistent. It was designed to draw out his pleasure. 
“I can’t,” he roughed out, flipping Michelle on her back. She was forced to let his dick go and he was thankful for the reprieve. His own hand stayed burrowed inside of her. When they were settled, he looked down at her and the fan of curls that were blown out around her face. 
She looked up at him and gently reached up to touch his chin. He nudged his chin against her hand. She smiled, “I can’t believe it. We could’ve been doing this forever ago.”
He laughed, “We’re idiots.”
“The worst,” she agreed. She dragged him down into another kiss. The heat between them shifted. 
There was no more playful banter or exploratory hands. Michelle wiggled her silk shorts off underneath Peter and he shucked off his own boxers. The crumbled up silk shirt pooled around Michelle’s waist did not get removed. He couldn’t bring himself to unlatch himself from her body long enough to toss it away. 
Without prompting, Michelle fluttered her legs open and tucked a sure leg around his backside. Peter held his body up on his elbows above her and breathed, “Are you sure?”
The beautiful girl beneath him nodded, “More than anything.”
He shifted so his one elbow was holding up his body weight and the other moved between them to guide himself inside of her. The initial resistance made them both gasp and then, as if they were made for each other, Peter pushed inside of her. Michelle choked on a gasp, and her back arched off the bed. His own arms shook. His body wanted to be flat against her as they moved together in a clutching, desperate rhythm. Yet, he did not give into his more primitive urges; instead, he captured her mouth in a kiss. She seemed to find her way back to the world, their bed, in the depths of his kiss. 
The leg slung around his backside clutched him closer, indecently. He filled her up deeper and hopelessly. He was wrapped up in her and she in him. She was like the view that men climbed mountains for—one in a million and breathtaking.
If this was the last time, the only time he would be like this with her, it somehow felt like it would be enough and never enough at the same time. There was so much he wanted to say to her, and all those words felt immaterial on his lips as they moved together. Their touch said it all.
Michelle grabbed the back of his head, folded in his hair, and he allowed his forehead to fall into the sweet curve of her shoulder.
His hips ground into her body and he only left her long enough to miss her, before he plunged back in. There was something indecent about the sound their bodies made together, but those sounds were nothing compared to the soft keening that Michelle gasped every time he slid home.
She pulled his hair and his hips faltered. She yanked it again and he growled. She yanked it once last time and he pulled her hand from his hair and pinned it to the bed. He gruffly told her, “If you can’t play nice, you don’t get to play with my hair.” He angled his hips into her, reaching a new depth.
She cried out. “You like that I don’t—oh my god—play nice.” He smothered a kiss against her mouthy lips. Their kiss was furious and impolite, all tongue and teeth.
Peter folded. The hand holding her wrist down to the bed released her hand to grip into the bed as his hips fucked a giving, final pace. He could feel the lightening building in the base of his spine, all egged-on by Michelle’s ever-growing cries and groans. Each snap of his hips caused another exquisite sound. It sounded like it was ripped from her throat.
And when she began to chant his name, as if she was a stranger in her own body, Peter ran his teeth down her neck and fell over the edge into rapturous bliss.
He felt her tighten and flutter around his pulsing member, and he fell deeper into the blackhole of pleasure. The last self-aware thought he had was her name—
Michelle.
The next morning, as the sun crept into their hotel room, Peter ran his finger up and down her bare back. He was transfixed by the leagues of skin visible to him. He had touched that skin the night before and kissed it, too. He had made her cum and heard her laugh as he nuzzled dizzy kisses into her neck in post-coital bliss. Every moment seemed better than the last, and the morning was equally wondrous.
It had been the first time in five years that December 28th was anything more than numbness and loss.
Michelle sleepily stretched and rolled over on her side. After a yawn, she snuggled into his waiting arms, “Mm, good morning.” “Morning,” he brushed a kiss against her hairline.
“Have you been watching me this whole time? You creep.” Michelle kissed his chest.
He squished her impossibly closer and said, “I’m happy.”
She tilted her chin up to look at him and turned his own chin down to kiss his mouth. He was so pleased, so peaceful that he did not even complain about the morning breath. She snuck another kiss and replied, “Me too.”
Peter rested his cheek against the top of head and her. She did not protest, she did not even make the smallest fuss. Michelle simply wrapped her arms around him and held him, too.
Later, he would have to take the rest of the long journey home and face his Aunt and all the memories of Ben that were waiting for him. Later, he would have to talk about how he felt like he had failed his Uncle. Later, he would have to return to a world where December 28th was the day his Uncle died.
But all of that was later.
For now, he had to see about a girl.  
247 notes · View notes
24stiles920 · 6 years
Text
Frayed
Teen Wolf Rewrite
Pairing: Stiles x Reader
Warnings: Ages 16+, swearing, blood
Words: 3028
A/N: I’m so sorry for this chapter, but there��s only so much I’d could do with it. Anyway, hope you enjoy 😊
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Season 3A Masterlist
I sighed as Coach blew his whistle once again, shouting at a kid who got out of his seat.
“Back to your seat!” He yelled, making my headache worse.
I leaned my head back against my seat, only to feel lips kissing my head gently. I smiled to myself; touched that Stiles was caring for me even if he wasn’t sitting with me.
“Yo, Scotty.” Stiles tried to get Scott’s attention, snapping his fingers. “Hey, yo, Scotty? Still with me?”
I turned around to see Scott zoned out, staring out the window. I grimaced in sympathy; the poor guy has been through a lot in just a short amount of time.
“Scott?” I called, reaching over the back of my seat and touching his arm softly.
Scott flinched, rubbing his face that was against the window. “Yeah, sorry. Uh, what’s the word?”
“’Anachronism.’” Stiles told him, reading off an app on his iPad.
“Something that exists out of its normal time.” Scott answered flawlessly.
“Nice.” Stiles nodded. “Okay, Y/N, you’re next. ‘Resplendent.’”
“Shining or glowing.” I answered without much thought.
“That’s my girl!” Stiles beamed at me. “Okay, next word, Scott…’incongruous.’”
Scott winced in pain. “Um, can you use it in a sentence?”
“Yes. Yes, I can.” Stiles nodded. “It’s completely incongruous that we’re sitting on a bus right now, on our way to some stupid cross-country meet after what just happened—incongruous.”
“Out of place, ridiculous, absurd.” Scott recalled, ignoring Stiles’ sentence.
“Perfect.” Stiles gave Scott a thumb’s up. “Okay, next word. Um, Darach. Darach, it’s a noun.”
“Stiles Stilinski.” I groaned, slamming my aching head into the leather-coated seat while Scott blinked at Stiles repeatedly.
“We have to talk about it sometime, okay? And we’re gonna be stuck in this thing for like five hours, so why not?”
Scott didn’t answer, instead sighing loudly and leaning his head back against the window with a painful look on his face.
“Next word…” Stiles sighed. “’Intransigent.’”
“Stubborn, obstinate.’” I answered easily.
The bus went over a huge bump, making the vehicle rattle. Scott grunted in pain and clutched his side tightly. Stiles and I exchanged worried looks.
“Oh, Scott, are you okay?” I worried. Scott grunted breathlessly in response.
“We shouldn’t have come.” Stiles declared. “I knew it. We shouldn’t have come.”
“We had to.” Scott said weakly. “There’s safety in numbers.”
“Yeah, well, there’s also death in numbers, okay?” Stiles retorted. “It’s called a massacre… or a bloodbath, carnage, slaughter, butchery, wow, that’s…”
Scott groaned again while Stiles was reading off his iPad, and I had had enough of watching my best friend be in pain.
“All right, Scott, I’m telling Coach that—”
“No.” Scott interrupted me. “No, no, no. I’m all right.”
“Well, you don’t look all right.” I snapped.
“Would you just let us see it?” Stiles asked, reaching forward to grab Scott’s shirt, only for Scott to slap his hand away.
“I’m okay.” Scott insisted.
“Just let me see it, okay?” Stiles asked gently. My heart melted at the sight of him trying to take care of our friend.
“Okay.” Scott nodded. He pulled up his white t-shirt to reveal three gashes in his left side. They were bloody and gross, and they didn’t look like they were healing at all.
“Oh, dude…” Stiles gaped.
“I know it’s bad,” Scott started, pulling down his shirt. “But it’s because they’re from an alpha. It’ll take longer to heal.”
“How come Boyd and Isaac are fine then?” I asked, nodding to the boys that sat a few rows ahead of us.
Scott didn’t answer. He leaned his head on the window and stared out of the glass.
“I can’t believe he’s dead.” He moaned. “I can’t believe Derek’s dead.”
I pursed my lips and turned back around, a certain sadness settling into my bones. It was true. Derek was dead.
Derek and I weren’t close. In fact, I wouldn’t call us friends, but he had become a permanent fixture in our lives and to think that he was gone… well, it hurt.
Derek, Peter, Boyd, and Cora had a plan to kill Deucalion, thinking that once the leader of the alpha pack was dead, the rest of the pack would disappear. Scott disagreed, and set up a meeting just to talk to Deucalion, bringing Isaac with him. Derek and the rest of his pack followed Scott there without him knowing, and a fight broke out, resulting in Derek’s death.
Coach’s whistle chirped again.
“Two of you, back in your seats!” Coach yelled. “Jared, again, car sick? Every time—how do you even get on the bus? Look at me. No, don’t look at me. Look at the horizon. Keep your eyes…keep your eyes on the horizon. McCall, not you too?”
I looked back at Scott to see that he had a deep grimace on his face, his eyebrows furrowed.
“No, Coach, I’m good.” Scott called.
“Hey, Scott, you’re bleeding again.” Stiles pointed out, nodding at Scott’s side, where blood was seeping through the material of Scott’s t-shirt. “And don’t tell me that it’s just taking longer to heal, okay? Because I’m pretty sure that still bleeding means not healing, like, at all.”
Scott ignored Stiles, looking at Ethan, who was sitting with Danny a couple of rows ahead of us. “He’s listening.”
“Is he gonna do something?” I asked worriedly.
Scott shook his head. “Not in front of this many people.”
“Okay, well, what about the two ticking time bombs sitting right near him?” Stiles wondered, gesturing to Boyd and Isaac.
“No, they won’t.” Scott assured us. “Not here.”
“Okay, well, what it they do? Are you gonna stop ‘em?” Stiles questioned.
“If I have to.” Scott nodded.
The bus driver slammed on the breaks as traffic slowed to a complete stand-still. Scott grunted in pain and Stiles’ head slammed against the back of my seat.
“You okay, babe?” I asked him, reaching towards him and brushing his fringe back.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Stiles sent me a smile.
Suddenly Scott stood up and stepped over Stiles to get to the aisle.
“Scott?” Stiles asked. “Where are you going?”
“Boyd.” Scott answered. “He’s gonna do something.”
“Okay, what?” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
“Look at his hands.” Scott nodded at Boyd.
He slowly made his way towards Boyd and Isaac and placed his hand on Boyd’s claws, talking to him quietly. Boyd must’ve agreed to whatever Scott told him, because Scott came back, clutching his side as he scooted through the aisle and back to his seat.
“Crisis averted?” Stiles asked.
“Mm-hmm.” Scott murmured.
“Okay, good. Cause we got another problem.” Stiles proclaimed. “Ethan keeps checking his phone, like, every five minutes. It’s like he’s waiting for something, you know, like, a message, or a signal of some kind. I don’t know, something evil though, I can tell. I have a very perceptive eye for evil, but you both know that.”
I held in my laugh while Scott glared at Ethan.
“I don’t like him sitting with Danny.” Scott muttered.
“Yeah, neither do I.” I agreed.
Stiles pulled out his phone, catching mine and Scott’s curious glances.
“I’m gonna see what he’s waiting for.” Stiles said.
“What are you doing?” I asked my boyfriend.
“I’m gonna ask.” Stiles answered, typing in a text to send to Danny. Danny looked back at Stiles, and Stiles smiled and waved cheekily. Danny shook his head, causing Stiles to text him again.
Danny visibly put away his phone, making Stiles keep texting him. The whole bus could hear Danny’s phone beeping again and again as Stiles text him. Ethan gave Danny a funny look. Suddenly Ethan turned his head to look back at Scott, Stiles, and I, causing us to duck our heads under the seats.
“Well, that wasn’t very subtle.” Stiles muttered.
Finally, Stiles’ phone dinged with a message from Danny.
Someone close to him is sick. Might not make it through the night.
“Ennis?” Scott asked after Stiles read the text message out loud.
“Okay, so does that mean, uh—”
“He’s not dead.” Scott realized.
“Not yet.” I corrected him.
“Jared, I'm warning you. I'm an empathetic vomiter.” Coach said loudly to the car-sick Jared.  “You throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you. And it will be profoundly disgusting.”
“Please don’t talk about throwing up.” Jared said meekly. “It’s not good.”
“I might throw up on you just to make a point, Jared.” Coach threatened.
“It’s not good. It’s not good.” Jared repeated. Poor guy.
Coach turned to the rest of the bus with a glare. “Now the rest of you, don’t think we’re gonna miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam, a minor tornado warning, and Jared. We’re gonna make this thing. Nothing is gonna stop us!”
Stiles put his hand up, tired of seeing Scott in pain.
“Stilinski, put your hand down.” Coach ordered.
“You know, there’s, like, a food exit about a half a mile up. I don’t know if we stop and then maybe—”
“We’re not gonna stop.” Coach interrupted Stiles.
“Okay, but if we stop—”
Coach blew his whistle, cutting Stiles off again. “Stilinski! Shut it! Seriously! It’s a little bus! Stop asking questions!”
Stiles sighed and covered his mouth with his hand. “I hate him.”
I laughed through my nose and looked to Scott, who had his eyes closed. “Did you call Dr. Deaton?”
“I keep getting his voice mail.” Scott sighed.
“That’s it.” I gritted through my teeth and grabbing my phone from my bag. “I’m calling Lydia and Allison.”
“How are they gonna help back in Beacon Hills?” Scott wondered breathlessly.
“They’re not. They’ve been following us for hours.” I told him.
“Pathetic.” Stiles added.
I dialed Lydia’s number and listened as the phone rang.
“Hey, Y/N.” Lydia greeted in a cheerful tone. “Yeah, we’re just about to walk into a movie, uh, you know, the popcorn and—”
“I know you guys are right behind us.” I interrupted her. “Put me on speaker.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, look, Scott’s still hurt.” I told Allison and Lydia.
“What do you mean still?” Allison questioned. “He’s not healing?”
“No, he’s not healing.” I said. “I think he’s actually getting worse. The blood’s turning, like, a black color.”
Stiles gestured for the phone, and I gave him a questioning look.
“Let me talk to them.” He whispered.
I handed him my phone without a word, rolling my eyes as I did so.
“What’s wrong with him?” Stiles asked sarcastically. “I don’t—do I have a PhD in lycanthropy? How the fuck am I supposed to know that?”
There was a long pause as Allison and Lydia talked on the other line, Stiles rolling his eyes in response to whatever they were saying.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying.” Stiles piped up in an annoyed tone. “Reason? Have you met this guy?”
Stiles huffed as he hung up the phone and gave it back to me.
“I should’ve just let you deal with them.” He muttered to me before standing up to go talk to Coach.
“Coach, it’s five minutes for a bathroom break, okay?” Stiles pleaded. “We’ve been on this thing for, like, three hours—”
Coach blew his whistle, stopping Stiles’ sentence for a moment, before he continued.
“It’s sixty miles to the next rest stop—”
The whistle blew again, interrupting Stiles again.
“Being cooped up for hours is not good—”
Whistle.
“You know, our bladders aren’t exactly—”
Coach blew the damn whistle again, making Stiles shake with rage.
“Coach, this is—”
Chirp.
“Can you—”
Whistle.
“Please—Let me talk!”
Coach laughed before blowing the whistle for a long while.
“Get back to your seat, Stilinski!” Coach yelled.
“Okay!” Stiles roared, turning to come back to Scott and I.
“And Jared, keep your eyes on the horizon.” Coach instructed Jared.
Stiles got a twinkle in his eye before turning around and sitting next to Jared. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the next moment, Stiles jumped up as Jared started projectile vomiting everywhere.
Stiles laughed as he ran back to his seat next to Scott while I glared at him, trying not to puke myself.
The bus quickly pulled over at the rest stop and everyone ran off the bus. Stiles and I each took a side of Scott and helped him walk to the restroom, while Allison and Lydia caught up to us.
“Jared, you suck!” Coach’s words followed us. “Hey, somebody grab some towels or a mop or a new bus.”
Stiles and I lowered Scott to the floor while he gasped in pain. Allison raised his shirt, showing that the wounds had turned black.
“Oh, my God.” Allison whispered, looking to Scott. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Sorry.” Scott whispered weakly.
“Okay. Just give us a second, okay?” Allison told Scott, giving him a nod. She turned to Stiles, Lydia, and I with a concerned look. “This shouldn’t be happening. I’ve seen him heal from worse than this.”
“Okay, what do we do then?” I asked, panicking slightly.
Stiles grabbed my hand and squeezed it, while asking, “Do we just call an ambulance?”
“What if it’s too late?” Allison replied. “What if they can’t help?”
“We gotta do something.” Stiles said strongly.
“You know, it could be psychological.” Lydia spoke up suddenly.
“What do you mean,” Stiles asked her. “Like, psychosomatic?”
“No, she means, Somatoformic.” I told him.
“Som—” Stiles tried to repeat.
“A physical illness from a psychogenic cause.” Lydia explained.
Stiles looked to me, silently asking me to explain what Lydia just said.
“It’s all in his head.” I said.
“All in his head?” Stiles repeated thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment before his face lit up in realization. “Because of Derek. He’s not letting himself heal because Derek died.”
“So what do we do?” Allison asked.
Lydia rummaged through her pink, leather purse, pulling out a miniature sewing kit and holding it up.
“Stitch him up.” Lydia ordered. Stiles, Allison, and I looked at her like she was crazy. “I’m serious. Maybe all he needs to do is just believe it’s healing.”
Allison grabbed the sewing kit and took the needle from the plastic box, and sanitized it with a lighter while Stiles, Lydia, and I tried to sterilize the area with paper towels.
“He’s gonna need another shirt.” Allison said. “Where’s his bag?”
“Um, I’m gonna get it.” Stiles nodded nervously. “I hate needles anyway, so…”
He went to leave but glanced at Scott and gave Allison a nervous look.
“Uh, do you know what you’re doing?” He asked her.
Allison nodded. “Yeah, my father taught me.”
“I mean, how fast are you gonna… I mean, the bus, like, the bus could leave.” Stiles stammered.
“Well, you just make sure it doesn’t leave.” Allison replied, looking back at him.
“I can help, babe.” I gave Stiles a short smile and grabbed him hand, pulling him out of the restroom.
I led Stiles to the bus, where we waited for Lydia, Allison, and Scott to come out of the bathroom. They were taking forever, and when Lydia came rushing out of the building with a worried look on her face, I knew luck wasn’t in our favor.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Lydia.
“Allison can’t get the needle threaded.” Lydia answered. “She sent me out here so she could concentrate.”
Right then Coach blew his whistle and stepped off the newly cleaned bus.
“Let’s go!” He yelled, gesturing with his arm to gather onto the bus. “Back on the bus!”
Isaac and Boyd walked over to us with curious faces.
“Where’s Scott?” Isaac asked, looking around to Scott.
“He wasn’t healing.” Stiles said before proceeding to explain what was happening to Scott and how Allison was stitching him up because he thought it was his fault that Derek was dead.
Isaac growled and ran away to where Ethan and Danny were talking by a tree, and tackled Ethan, punching him in the face. The fighting went on and Stiles and I looked on, not knowing what to do to make Isaac stop.
“Stiles, what’s happening?” Scott asked Stiles, suddenly appearing over his shoulder.
“They went after him.” Stiles shrugged. “I told ‘em what was happening with you and they just went after him.”
“Who, Boyd?” questioned Scott, rushing over to the group that was surrounding Isaac and Ethan.
“Isaac,” Coach called, trying to stop the fighting. “Isaac, Isaac! Back off! Stop!”
Scott pushed through the crowd and yelled, “ISAAC!”
Isaac immediately stopped punching Ethan, glancing at Scott with sheepish eyes.
Stiles and I exchanged looks as we remembered an incident last February when it was Isaac’s first full moon and he was about to attack us when Derek roared.
Isaac panted, getting his frustrations out as he walked away from Ethan while Danny rushed to the injured alpha.
“All right!” Coach yelled finally, blowing his whistle angrily. “Back on the freakin’ bus!”
There were murmurs as everyone lined up to get back on the bus. Allison and Lydia joined the queue, abandoning Allison’s car, as they had run out of gas.
Stiles and I sat together in the seat in front of Scott and Allison, while Lydia sat in front of us.
“All right. Let’s go over this one more time.” Stiles spoke up, ten or so minutes after the bus started up again. “So, it’s the sacrifices, right? Everything has to do with them and someone who thinks he’s, like, a dark druid of some kind.”
“Or actually is a dark druid.” I said, looking at Stiles intently.
“A Darach.” Stiles nodded.
“Not to interrupt, but, you know that some ancient cultures sacrificed people in preparation for battle.” Lydia spoke up, turning around in her seat to look at us.
Stiles sighed and quirked his eyebrows.
“So we got alpha werewolves against a dark druid.” Stiles summed up.
“Yeah.” I exhaled, leaning my head against his shoulder.
Tag List
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UnderappreciatedSterek 2017 Masterpost
I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I started this blog, or that I’ve managed to rack up a total of 108 recs so far!
Special thanks to @notvirginawoolf for the many recs they sent in over the year, and also to every other person who made a submission. I still have plenty to get around to, so keep an eye out for many more recs to come!
I’ve started the list with some of my personal favourites, with everything under the cut in rec order (sorry in advance for mobile users!) I can guarantee no matter which fic you pick, you’ll find an overlooked gem on the other side.
(I ended up having trouble whenever I exited edit mode when making this post where all the links would disappear. I had to remove some of the author tags to keep them working, but then they disappeared if I used the banner I’d made. So if the links aren’t there when this goes live... I’ll try working on it again T_T If you find any mistakes, please let me know, though I’m honestly loath to touch this again!)
A Bid from Midnight by Zercalo | 5572w | General
Derek’s been holed up in the middle of nowhere for a few months now, so Stiles makes a detour to check up on him. Because Scott is worried. (Scott is not that worried.)
And Pink Shoelaces by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 8842w | Mature
It was Derek’s turn. It had to be. He looked at the comm-disc in his hand. Even if he had to debase himself with going to this damned matchmaking service, he was determined to find his mate.
Any Other Name by twobirdsonesong | 979w | General
Stiles just wants to know what he smells like to Derek.
Counting Kisses by carolion | 327w | General
Derek has not kissed anyone in a very long time. But this is the first time he really wants to again.
Dealing with Werewolves by foolish_mortal | 2565w | General
In which Stiles runs away to live with the dragons and meets a werewolf.
In spite of all you knew and said by Azul_Bleu | 2700w | Mature
The road streams behind them, mile upon mile until Stiles can’t say where they even started, and Stiles talks so he won’t have to remember.
Or, Derek and Stiles deal with being the ones left behind. They’re not great at it.
(Set post an imaginary S3, where the Alphas win. Spectacularly.)
i've got someone else in mind by blueinkedbones | 2845w | General
“That’s just a mutual thing we have going on!” Stiles argues. “Like an unspoken arrangement, you know?”
Erica is generally smug at him. Stiles slumps.
“Of love, you’re saying. We have an unspoken arrangement of love, and it’s so unspoken neither of us knows about it.”
Keystone (3-part series) by Chandri / @chandri | 106,961w | Explicit
A world without parents is a lonely, portless world with no safety and no justice - this is a truth Stiles Stilinski learned when he was very young. But at nine years old, at twelve, he couldn’t understand just how true it was; that the powerful, indefinable wrongness that obscured his memories of his mother was more than a child’s sense of unfairness at having his mom taken away.
It’s not until a globetrotting great-aunt blows back into town after a many-years absence that it starts to dawn on him: that his mother’s death was anything but natural; that it was certainly anything but fair.
Reindeer in the (Library) Closet by Rainfallen | 3247w | Teen
Derek just wanted to put the spare network cables away and escape from Erica, not get accosted in the storage closet by a boy wearing the most atrocious Christmas sweater he’s ever seen. On second thought, though, the accosting maybe wasn’t such a bad idea.
The Field by Gimmie | 1625w | General
When he turned back to the field, he zoned in on the sudden appearance of Derek Hale, being led by the hand toward the meadow. He looked hesitant, but the girl was smiling with her head tilted and persuading him, pulling him along. Stiles stopped eating, stopped breathing, and stared as the older boy that he always noticed, as if he had a radar that could detect his presence, was finally led onto the field. The delay was not for lack of trying by the human girls of Beacon Hills High.
the pivot point by subnivean | 461w | General
Don’t be nice to me.
We Pick Ourselves Undone by StilesInTheGlade | 1583w | General
It was a habit, maybe even a compulsion, that Derek noticed in the aftermath of the Nogitsune. Stiles would periodically count off his fingers. One by one, from the thumb of his left hand to the thumb of his right, long fingers ticking as he marked them off, lips silently moving along, one, two, three…
when i look at you (oh, i don't know what's real) by verity | 1304w | Mature
Scott slows his pace during cross-country and falls back from Isaac to join Stiles at the rear of the group. “Hey, have you seen Derek recently?” Scott says, faux-casual like Stiles hasn’t watched him try to lie to their parents since they were five.
“Nope,” Stiles says. “Haven’t seen him in a week.” Unless he counts the Derek he dreams about on the regular, but if Stiles has learned anything from Lydia Martin and his umpteen-year-plan, it’s that the people in your dreams and the people in your reality are never one and the same.
Fuck Me in the Ass Cause I Love Jesus by WriteByNight | 3370w | Mature
Now that Stiles was a college graduate and still living at home, he had decided to help out as the organ player for the duration of the summer. The last organist had unexpectedly kicked the bucket and although there were a few people with more experience than Stiles, no one had the free time that he did so he’d reluctantly accepted the position.
Stiles thought it would put him back in the big guy’s good graces after all the fucking up he’d done as a kid…teen…okay, his entire life.
There wasn’t really another benefit to the arrangement. Stiles didn’t even have a keyboard at home, so he had to come to church every Wednesday and Saturday and practice for the Sunday services. Luckily, some of the more experienced players covered the choir practices for him. Playing and hearing hymns three times a week was more than enough for him.
However, about a week and a half into his time as organist he’d come across another perk. The groundskeeper and maintenance man, Derek Hale.
You’ve got me slippin’ and a slidin’ by ElisAttack / @iamonlydancing | 3683w | General
The snowmobile stutters to a halt on the banks of the river and Derek smiles when he sees a few ravens flying in circles in the distance.  The salmon are here.
“Seems like I’m your lucky charm,”  Stiles says with a wink.
Or the one where Derek lives in the middle of nowhere, and is probably in love with his delivery boy.
The Truth Behind The Pictures by Boy_On_Strings | 7796w | Explicit
Stiles learns to paint. Derek learns something about Stiles.
Ember by heavy_cream | 2825w | Explicit
Sleepy sunday morning sex.
Never Been Kissed by TheLittlestBoho | 2103w | General
Derek and Stiles touch, but they don’t kiss.
"My Wolf-Man" by write_light | 12,935w | Mature
Forest and castle, wolf and man, a vengeful spirit and true love, so much misfortune and so many masks. And a tray full of desserts. How do happy endings work? Prince Stiles, a human; Derek Hale, a werewolf; Talia & the ghost of Derek’s father; Uncle Peter and Evil Aunt Kate; Stiles’ parents, the king and queen.
The Time John Stilinski Learned To Knock by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon | 819w | Mature
John Stilinski comes home from a long shift and just wants to relax, then he hears a noise coming from Stiles’ room. (Prompts: 76. “Please put your penis away.”)
Like Immortality by Idday | 4815w | Teen
Dear Derek,
All these words, and what I’m trying to say is simple.
I want to love you like you deserve to be loved. I want to share your triumphs, your burdens, your full moons and your new. I want you to be as sure of my love as you are the phases of the moon.
I want to love you like the moon loves you.
(I told you that one day I would write you a love letter).
OR, Stiles and Derek, in letters, through the years.
carry me to love again by nighimpossible | 3000w | Mature
Stiles picks up Derek on the side of the road. Post 3A.
Thin Mints and Meddling by myhomeboy_stilinski | 5388w | Teen
Stiles would be the first person to admit that living in a small town had its drawbacks, with privacy being non-existent and sneaking around near impossible. But there was something to be said about the solidarity and loyalty that filled a close-knit community. People stood up for one another. They contributed and helped. They loved each other. Truthfully, Stiles pitied those who incited the wrath of someone from Beacon Hills.
To Stiles’ eternal gratitude, he had never prompted said wrath.
That is, until he met Derek Hale.
**** The one where the people of Beacon Hills realize that Derek Hale deserves nice things (in case you missed the tags.)
Whiskey Haze by Piscaria | 3221w | Teen
Stiles blinks drunkenly up at the ceiling, wondering who he knows who’s over 21 and a little bit shady.
Stiles had been dreading this day for years.
Leap of Faith by Batwynn | 710w | General
Derek watches his somewhat-friend become weather worn and tired, and thinks, ‘Why Stiles? Why him?’
Okay Will Get Us Through by clotpolesonly / @clotpolesonly | 41,955w | Mature
It was supposed to be a peaceful fucking protest. Stiles heard the first shot loud and clear, though, and was too boxed in to duck, even as his stomach felt like it fell out of his body entirely. For a second all he could think was “Scott is gonna be so mad, I said it would be fine, I promised,” and then he was falling.
First Born Unicorn by dragon-temeraire / @dragon-temeraire | 1982w | General
Something mysterious has returned to the preserve, but for once it’s not dangerous.
Decision by verushka70 | 17,398w | Explicit
Derek goes out to bars wishing he’d never been born and gives himself to almost anyone who wants to take him home. He wets his face in the sweat that runs down men’s chests and doesn’t shower after. Back home, the scents dare Laura to say something. She never does.
Derek grabs her in a quick hug. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, face tucked into her hair, scenting sister, pack, family, love. They both know it’s not true. But she lets it go.
The Devil You Know by verushka70 | 14,629w | Explicit
“So,” Derek says like it’s utterly obvious. (It’s not, it’s totally not). It’s hard to know how to take someone you can’t really read.
His tongue licks between Stiles’ lips like all of this was never in question. Was it? No, not really, because: Derek.
Gut Feeling by Chubstilinski / @chubstilinski | 29,842w | Explicit
Stiles was maybe, possibly, mildly obsessed with his favorite regular, Deputy Derek Hale. But in his defense, Derek seemed just as obsessed with Stiles. Or at least, Stiles’s baked goods, if his appetite for sweets and increasing waistline were anything to go by.
Comfort Drabble by wildwerewolfweirdness | 100w | General
They didn’t get on, Stiles and Isaac.
Happily Ever After by endoftheline7 | 3080w | Teen
The Sheriff finds out about Derek and Stiles, and doesn’t react well. At all. In fact, he ends up asking for the worst.
Family dinner.
Peter Plays The Long Game by HurrahForSmut | 2314w | Teen
She’d almost forgotten Peter, which is always a mistake.
Unchained Melody (2 part series) by swing set in december | 3825w |
Teen
Haunting requires skill and showmanship. Something werewolves will never understand.
Amber by cobrilee | 1283w | Teen
Derek stood by the bar, ostensibly waiting for the bartender to swing by and take his order, but in reality, he couldn’t care less if the bartender ever noticed him. He just wanted to have a legitimate reason to not have to hang out with his friends.  
A Taunting of Ravens to You by keelover | 17,830w | Mature
Stiles, plagued by uncertainty, would like to know whether or not he would be strong enough to survive the bite. Lydia, awake, but not entirely the same after her ordeal, offers him some insight with that tricky moon mirror of hers. And what does Derek think about all of this? The hell if anyone knew.
the wilderness (3-part series) by ceserabeau | 9202w | Explicit
When Stiles pictured Derek’s return to Beacon Hills, he never imagined this: late night in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, Stiles in sweatpants and a shirt long overdue a wash, glancing left from the Captain Crunch and Lucky Charms to find Derek Hale, four feet away, pulling a box of muesli off the shelf.
Lock Me Up by FairydustOnRoses | 3410w | Explicit
Stiles is home for Thanksgiving break. He traveled across the country from Columbia University and is looking forward to spending time with Scott and his dad and stuffing his face on Thursday. He is not looking forward to running into a certain broody werewolf that he may or may not have left in bed after a hookup only hours before he got on the plane to New York back in August.
Swallow by carolion | 469w | Teen
Stiles looks good when he swallows. Derek tells him so.
He’ll bleed you ‘til you’re just bone and skin by ElisAttack | 2236w | Explicit
It’s moments when Stiles feels the dull pull of the bruises on his hips, moments when he can’t sleep on his stomach because the throbbing ache does nothing for a good night’s sleep, it’s those moments that make him feel worthless.
Makes him hate Derek with a passion that burns brighter than anything else he feels.
Or the one where Derek doesn’t know his strength, but Stiles knows he deserves it.
Moon Fever (10-part series) by mytimehaspassed | 30,612w | Mature
Derek moves into Stiles’ old house on a Monday.
Jacket by thatmcbastard (blueb1rd) | 335w | General
Stiles just keeps shivering and looking all vulnerable and pathetic. It’s annoying, alright?
Scream Wolf by grangerinvestigations | 13,966w | Teen
Someone’s taken their love of werewolf movies one step too far.
what in carnation? by haleofStilesheart | 2985w | General
Deliveryman wasn't exactly Derek's dream job but it helped put him through school so he couldn't complain. Especially since it helped him meet the love of his life.
Breathe a Little Easier by Scavenger | 3492w | Teen
Five years ago, he would never have imagined life being this easy, this good.
Take A Breath, Let It Out by northern | 2703w | Teen
Derek can smell the discomfort radiating off of Stiles. What going against his instincts is doing to his sweat and his breath. But as long as Derek can’t smell hesitation, it’s fine. He can deal with Stiles hating himself a little. He can’t deal with having killed Stiles.
We Den Our Hearts Here by LadyLade | 1921w | Teen
Somehow, having a pack of wolf pups has made Derek’s life easier.
Staying by secretagentwolf / @secretagentwolf | 4571w | Teen
Stiles shows up at Derek’s apartment door one day asking to stay. Derek surprises them both by accepting. He does his best to make Stiles feel safe and he doesn’t ask. Eventually, though, Stiles tells him.
This Will Definitely Hurt by write_light | 285w | General
That time when Stiles pulled a back muscle and Derek and the Sheriff had a (thankfully not literal) pissing match about how to take care of him. (est. relationship, Sheriff knows)
Seven Wonders by dadvans / @dadvans | 2988w | General
Stiles sees Beacon Hills through ancient parallels. Derek thinks he’s cursed.  
The Amazing Part Is by TroubleIWant / @troubleiwant | 2407w | General
You’re in love with a beautiful boy, and the amazing part is that he loves you back. He’s all dark honey eyes and buttermilk skin, moles down his neck that he lets you kiss and kiss again. He’s all sharp laughter and too wide sweeps of his arms, and it’s been ten months but you’re not thinking about your first anniversary, you’re thinking about forever.
and in your hand a skeleton key by faerielissa | 5474w | Teen
How was it that, of everyone from home, besides his dad of course, he missed Derek the most?
Find Me Sitting Fireside by kaistrex | 13,282w | Teen
With the news that an Alpha wants Beacon Hills for their own, Derek and Stiles are forced to attend a couples retreat at a ski resort to learn their enemy’s identity. However, the threat is the least of Derek’s problems when he’s expected to fake a relationship, share a bed and suffer through candlelit dinners with the man he’s secretly been in love with for the past four years.
At Least Our Theme Song Rocks by Deviousness_Carter | 907w | Teen
After years of being a technician, Stiles finally passes his field exam and gets to save the world. Unfortunately, he gets neither a mask nor a tux.
punitive acts by subnivean | 3881w | Explicit
Two idiots, both alike in indignity, or something, whatever.
Let Me Catch Your Laughter Upon My Tongue by monopolizeme | 1295w
| Teen
Stiles doesn’t laugh.
It’s not something that Derek has ever put much thought into before, because he’s never had a reason to focus on something that’s never been there before. But Stiles doesn’t laugh – he snarks with sly lips and snorts in indignation when he thinks that he’s heard something completely foolish and he huffs out a noise of victory when he succeeds at something but Stiles doesn’t laugh.
Laura Was Right by Sheepnamedpig | 1446w | Explicit
The first and last time Derek and his ghost boyfriend ever have sex in front of a mirror.
(I Will) Remember Your Name by saraubs | 1088w | Mature
Forced onto the sands to pay for his crimes against the Empire (also see: avenging his family), Derek just fights to unleash the anger, not caring if he lives or dies. Well, that is, until he comes face to face with a certain smart-mouthed body slave, and finds there are still some things worth fighting for.
I Know by Nival_Vixen / @nivalvixen | 1050w | Mature
Stiles has lost himself, he’s drowning, and he doesn’t know if he’ll make it back up to the surface.
The - Mistake by kaistrex | 504w | General
Four-year-old Derek mistakes Sheriff Stilinski for his mate.
That's Where It Is by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 22,815w | Mature
At twenty-two, the age of a Master-Builder according to the Number Law the Elder Council used, Derek was at the perfect age to break away from his family’s over extended pack and construct his own. As with all Alphas ready to take that step, he needed a Mate: no pack could be led by only one mind.  
This Must Be What Going Mad Feels Like by LadyLade | 902w | Teen
Then Derek twitches, sees Scott looking at him, and glares. “What?” he snarls.
Does…does Derek look a little guilty?
Oh Jesus. This is not happening.
-
Teen Wolf kink meme prompt: Holy shit, Scott thinks, horrified. Because Derek isn’t staring creepily at some unidentified point in the distance. Derek is staring at his best friend’s ass.
Know Thy Worth (2-part series) by Ishtar12 / @mommalosthermind | 15,983w | General
His Dad’s been snatched by a rival pack. His first kiss with Derek anchored his magic, sealed him to the pack, and maybe even Derek himself. Stiles has no idea what’s going on in his life right now, and less time to figure it out.
Day 4: On a date by starkology (jawnwatson) | 501w | General
Stiles and Derek try to go on a date.
With You (You'll Find Me) by CigarettesandCider / @kieren-fucking-walker | 1993w | Teen
“I need a fic of Stiles leaving Beacon Hills to find Derek because he can’t deal with that town and it’s people anymore. I want Derek doing some grocery shopping and then Stiles scent hits him hard and he just kinda whimpers and follows it till he finds Stiles there looking at him. I want Derek asking Stiles how did he find him and Stiles just shrugs and says he had a feeling. I want Stiles following Derek to his car when Derek tilts his head motioning to the parking lot because they don’t need words. And then finally when they’re inside Derek’s little apartment (there’s nothing fancy about it but it’s homey and there are pictures of Cora and him on the walls) Stiles finally crumbles and Derek just holds him.”
Meddling Ghosts by haipanda / @haihaipanda | 1837w | General
Stiles would like to remind everyone that he is not crazy and he does not see hallucinations. The fact that no one else can see ghosts is really not his fault and the rest of the world could be a bit more understanding.
Corpse Flower by Spikedluv / @spikedluv | 2253w | Teen
Stiles thinks that having sex with Derek will make him less distracting.
Lightsabers and Leverage by SourwolfSymphony | 581w | Teen
Stiles avoids studying for exams by calling Derek to rant about Star Wars; he doesn’t realize it’s 3am. Derek is worried and displeased.
REASONS I WOULD DATE DEREK HALE by Idday | 7284w | Teen
When Stiles moves back to Beacon Hills after college, he pretty much immediately decides to convince Derek Hale to date him.
Unfortunately for him, it seems as though they’re not on the same page. Like, Derek thinks Stiles hates him (and apparently, so does everybody else). And surprisingly, none of Stiles SUPER ROMANTIC (screw you, Scott) plans to woo Derek seem to be working. Probably because Derek still thinks Stiles is making fun of him. Or something.
But Stiles is nothing if not stubborn. He’s going to win Derek over. No matter what.
His 10 point lists are definitely going to help (no matter what Lydia says).
Get Me With Those Green Eyes, Baby by penlex | 2110w | Teen
Stiles wakes up alone, but that’s okay because he has to go to school anyway. Right. It’s totally fine.
“What’s your problem, Stilinski?” Jackson barked, right when Stiles blurted, “I feel like my life’s soundtrack is made up of Taylor Swift hits.”
Nightcall by oldestcharm / @oldestcharm | 3086w | General
Getting as far away from Beacon Hills as humanly possible is much easier when you have supernatural friends… acquaintances… err, something.
Can't Control Myself by JueJueBahn | 10,940w | Explicit
Stiles is showering innocently but then omg a wild Derek appears and might or might not be intoxicated with weird supernatural stuff.
This Was How Legends Were Made by Delta_Immortal | 108,501w | Explicit
Caught between the Hales and the Argents in their war, Stiles finds himself a slave of the great Hale pack. Stiles spends each day working hard, hoping to earn his freedom and see his sick father. It also seems each day he’s capturing more and more attention from Derek, the young Hale lord. Stiles tells himself it’s mostly because Derek is merely trying to figure out how to send the annoying, useless slave away- not because of affection, despite the tales coming from the rumor mill.
It doesn’t matter what Derek’s intentions are. Stiles can’t bother with love right now. He’s got to keep his head down and survive long enough to keep his promise to Kate Argent. After all, she’s promised to keep his father safe.
Occasionally Domestic (Series) by Little Spoon (JaydenNara) | 36,523~w | Explicit
The day of graduation, Stiles left Beacon Hills behind when he hopped into Derek’s car and never looked back. He’s living in New York with Derek and attending Columbia University on a partial scholarship. Only, no one seems to realize that Derek and Stiles are very much together, and sickeningly happily so, because that had never been on anyone’s radar.
(or – Stiles and Derek, occasionally domestic.)
No Filter by kaistrex | 1213w | Teen
When Derek was hired to photograph some up-and-coming novelist for his book jacket, he was expecting someone stuffy, middle-aged and, well, bookish.
That’s not what he gets. At all.
Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen | 4226w | Teen
When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle’s beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader…
Last Word by Sheepnamedpig | 953w | Explicit
Someone is wrong on the internet.
Bravado by orphan_account | 3545w | Explicit
Something good finally happens to Derek Hale.
(Spoiler alert: that something is Stiles.)
Put a spell on me please? by ssleif | 3154w | Explicit
Derek has a dilemma, and figures Stiles, sneaky clever Slytherin that he is, might be able to help. Or: Teenage wizards having an illicit first-time rendezvous while their dorm mates are elsewhere.
Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues (conspire against the odds) by
LadySlytherin | 14,269w | Mature
When Stiles mouths off to the wrong set of witches, he finds himself unable to control his tongue around a certain alpha werewolf. As Stiles struggles with the lesson the witches want him to learn, he knows it’s only a matter of time until the truth comes out. It always does.
Tie [taɪ] by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 5164w | Mature
Unable to talk his way out of attending the Wordsmith’s Masquerade, Derek thinks he’ll have to suffer through in silence. Luckily, someone else is there to do the talking for him.
Everything to Destruction by MajorAccent | 559w | Teen
Potentially evil. Potentially good. Just this huge powerful potentiality waiting to be shaped.
Wooden Smiles, Raging Sea by dedougal | 3466w | Mature
Stiles had no idea where the black smoke had come from and he had a feeling he really didn’t want to know.
Make us laugh (or nothing will) by rohkeutta | 31,005w | Teen
When Derek Hale left Beacon Hills at 18 to become a kickboxing champion, he thought he would never return. But here he is, seven years later: trying to salvage something from the ruins of his life, eighteen months after the house fire that killed his parents and left him limping and without a future. Enter Stiles, a college dropout Derek might or might not have been friends with in high school, and the unexpected interest he manifests towards the love of Derek’s life.
The Theory of No Control by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf) | 27,989w |
Mature
“–kick your scrawny butt all over the Muertes Archipelago, Bilinski! Get out of there or I will feed you to a Stegosaurus!”
“First of all, having me come out from here and then tossing me to the dinos kinda defeats the purpose of it all, since I already am in a dinosaur cage. Second, Stegosauruses are herbivores, which means they will definitely pass on biting my rear end. And third, my butt is not scrawny, though I didn’t know you were even looking, Coach. I’m flattered.”
“BILINSKI!!”
Derek groaned. “Oh no.”
“Oh, yes.” Scott grinned. He ran off, no doubt excited to watch his reckless best friend and cheer him on. He was such a damn enabler.
trick or treat (say something sweet) by dyobrienz (Muffintine) | 2712w |
General
“And,” Bat Kid sniffles, “a werewolf stole my candy, mommy – a werewolf!”
or: Three Halloweens from Derek’s perspective. Past, Present, Future.
Haleoween by redhoodedwolf | 6952w | Teen
“So what are you looking to get?” he inquired.
“Alright, well, the theme I’m going for is Badass Little Red Riding Hood.”
Derek arched an eyebrow, not judgingly, but curiously. “Interesting. Skirt and all?”
Stiles’ cheeks flushed at the joke. “Pfft, nah, not for this one.” Derek’s face flushed at that.
temporary tattoos make meaningful love tokens by Siriusstuff | 2126w |
General
Trick-or-treating with young Stiles, Scott, Derek and his sisters.
The Best Thing Since Peanuts by phlossie | 2042w | Teen
At this moment in time though, with gyrating attractive people who were not even remotely interested in gyrating in his vicinity also pretending he didn’t exist, Stiles felt that maybe the several month long moratorium should come to an end.
At least that way they could be miserable together.
Spell It Out For Me by chubstilinski | 14,766w | Explicit
But now Stiles was, well. He was fat. Not extremely so, just a little chubby, really, but it was exaggerated, every curve highlighted by the tightness of clothes made for a slender body. His Clark Kent slacks clung to thick thighs and cut into his hips. A substantial belly and small muffin top spilled over the waistband, stretching the buttons on his clean shirt. Derek could see the swell of his chest where the Superman logo peeked out from the undone top buttons, and he felt like he was going crazy. Stiles was gorgeous.
Or, on Halloween, Stiles gets jinxed by a hoodoo practitioner into gaining weight very rapidly. Derek thinks it’s sexy. Stiles thinks Derek is sexy. Shenanigans ensue.
Tricky to Treat by khasael | 2524w | Mature
Stiles loves Halloween. Derek hates it. Luckily, Stiles has a plan.
who nursey says is dead by demonicweirdo | 6357w | Mature
“I’m fine,” Stiles mutters, gritting his teeth through the searing pain. The hand pressed to his neck comes away drenched in blood. “Maybe not. I’m going to die here, in this shitty house, on Halloween.”
Haunted by kitsunequeen | 436w | General
First thing’s first, Derek is a liar.
1) Stiles is absolutely not afraid.

2) He did not shriek. He may have gasped, like, once. 

3) Clinging to Derek’s arm is in no way an indication of fear. He just really loves his boyfriend, okay? Really really. And his arm is comfortable to hold on to. That is all.
Rescue my cat from me by Hepzheba | 897w | General
Firefighter Derek has to retrieve a cat from a tree. He’d rather ogle the cat’s owner, despite the ridiculous sweater said owner is wearing.
Halloween by MissDizzyD | 903w | Teen
Stiles and Derek spend Halloween night watching horror films and dishing out candy.
Hallowe'en at Hale's! by lunaraindrop | 635w | General
After months of not hearing from Derek, Stiles decides to throw a Halloween Party at Derek’s loft. Could Stiles have ulterior motives besides dressing up and dancing?
Garbage Bag Ghosts by twisting_vine_x | 759w | General
This is literally just Stiles and Derek being dorky boyfriends and decorating for Halloween.
One Of These Days by dedougal | 552w | Teen
Stiles knows he shouldn’t just walk in on Derek. Anyway, Derek should hear him coming.
It Takes Time by kingandmoon | 3585w | Teen
He had no job, his pack had scattered for college, and he paid the delivery guy extra to unload all his food into his kitchen. So really, what was the point?
Take-out Turkey Day by captaintinymite (augopher) | 3071w | Teen
Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski is  alone as he studies in New York- well, aside from his only friend in the City. Derek lives in the same apartment building, and circumstances mean they will both be spending Thanksgiving alone. When Derek suggests they spend it together, Stiles jumps on the idea.
The only problem? Neither one of them can cook.
a fable of some sort by thatworldinverted / @thatworldinverted | 5706w | Explicit
Stiles isn’t stupid. He knows something’s wrong with him, something rotten at the core like an apple in a fairytale.
He just doesn’t care. Not as long as he has Derek, as long as he can look up from the knife and the steel table and meet wolf-bright eyes and red-tipped claws.
And I Promise You Kid, I'll Give So Much More Than I Get by nerdyderekhale | 4855 | General
Stiles and Derek have been roommates for years, friends for longer. When Derek decides to bring Christmas spirit to Stiles for a change, unintentional wooing leads to Christmas confessions.
A Modern-Day Christmas Carol by Peasantaries | 2876 | Teen
Derek Hale is an adult: he doesn’t drink beverages with the title ‘Christmas Cookie Latte.’ 
Catahoula by zjofierose | 6761 | Teen
A late flight, an ESL Uber driver, and a simple mistake are all it takes for Stiles to have his most… memorable… Christmas yet. 
New Traditions by baneofawolf (InTheArmsofaThief) | 4576 | General
Stiles fiddled with his phone, absently closing and reopening the same app over and over. He’d been thinking about this day for months. Well, for years, if he was being honest with himself, but the actual plan for this actual day had only started forming a few months ago. He’d been thinking about this ever since he found out where Derek was. 
No Objections For Stiles by kaistrex | 2168 | General
While fighting a witch on Christmas Eve, Derek and Stiles end up stuck in a snow globe. Deaton says it should take a few days to wear off, but perhaps there’s another solution… 
all I want for Christmas (is you) by BansheeLydia | 647 | Teen
Stiles just wants to get home in time for Christmas.
Lover's Eyes by yodasyoyo / @yodas-yo-yo | 3792 | Teen
Derek has a complicated relationship with Christmas at the best of times, Stiles may be the one person who can make it better. or Five Christmas Days over the years told from Derek’s POV
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PETER/STILES
                                            ——— (part 3) ——–
Fandom: TeenWolf
Even longer list of fanfics :)….
top favourites, more top favourites, part 1, part 2
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The Devil You Know
Author: Triangulum
Summary: Hell is busy and Peter is understaffed. There are too many evil people being sent down below and there are only so many demons Peter has to torture them with. He needs to reorganize. They don't utilize group torture nearly as much as they should. Stiles probably has some ideas on that.OrPeter is King of Hell, Stiles is his second in command, and Talia summons them for a favor.
Can I Keep Him?
Author: Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: Let's try... Red Panda stiles? looove red panda stiles!
I’m Not Your Nephew
Author: Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: "Derek! Guess what!" "What, Stiles?" "I can call, you nephew now!!" "What. The hell. Are you talking about." "Didn't you listen? Peter and I are together!" 
Words Upon Skin
Author: Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: Soulmate words were treasured. People spent their whole lives waiting for their treasured phrase, that magic moment.Stiles had spent his whole life plagued by his words. He wondered just what he could do, to disappoint his soulmate so completely in their first meeting. He had approximately ninety nine self-confidence issues and they were all because of those damned words, printed in elegant script across his heart.‘Words cannot describe how pathetic you look.’
Let Me Hold You, Forever
Author: lavenderlotion
Summary: It was too much. To loud and too quiet and too, too much. He had to get out, to get away and just be somewhere different. He couldn’t - he couldn’t keep watching her like that, watching her lay there as she did.He needed a break.And he found it, with Peter Hale. Peter who was scarred skin and blank eyes. Peter who he sat with for hours a day, reading and ranting and just being with. Peter, who over four years he fell in love with.
A Spoonful Of Sugar
Author: Twisted_Mind
Summary: He blames Lydia. He would never have even considered this if she hadn't mentioned it like it was legit. But short of falling down the rabbit hole of student debt, he doesn't have a whole lot of options. So, whatever, he can try the sugar baby thing. No one has to know.Of course Peter has to go and ruin everything.
Across Your Skin, My Love
Author: lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles knew he had a soulmate - had gotten his mark when he was fourteen like everyone else. He just - he just didn’t think he would meet the man for years to come. he knew the statics, knew that most people didn’t meet their bonded until their early-mid twenties.So he was really not been expecting to his name on the arm of his hot new English teacher.He had to admit it turned out pretty amazing, though.
Don’t Come For His Family
Author: lavenderlotion
Summary: In the three years Stiles had been with Peter, the man had only talked about his family a handful of times - and as far as Stiles knew had never once spoken to them. So he wasn’t exactly excited to see the mans family, even though that’s exactly what they were about to do.It does not go to plan.
You Wouldn’t Believe Me
Author: gryvon
Summary: The Hales are famous. Their emissary is infamous.
Wrong Number
Author: SushiOwl
Summary: "What do you and your coven desire from the dark?" Sometimes he liked be cheesy. Humans were into it, otherwise they wouldn't put it in their insipid (but wildly entertaining) TV shows.The witch boy finally set down his reading material. Peter had thought it was a book, but it was actually a plastic folder with photocopies of pages from a book. Peter would have to decided if he was insulted later."No coven, just me," the witch said, closing his folder. There was a Batman symbol on the front, so Peter was certainly insulted.He was not about to put on such a show for one human either. He let his mist drop and gave the boy an unimpressed expression that included a lifted brow and lips tilted down at the corners. "Alright then, just you. What deal are you looking for?""Will you take my virginity for bragging rights?"
Boy Who Cried Wolf
Author: ladypigswagon
Summary: Peter is hungry. It’s a raw ache, the kind that drives Peter to hunt almost desperately. His paws pound against the earth, kicking up black dirt and fallen leaves as he runs. It’s early afternoon, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the canopy, dappling the ground. Peter can hear a herd of deer a few miles west, but deer are tricky. There are too many variables, too many antlers and hooves. He could probably pick off a few with a pack.
The Fourth Prince Of The First Realm
Author: RebaK1tten
Summary: “My god, Peter, only you!” Derek whispers. “You didn’t rescue just any old fairie, you rescued their Queen!”“Am I supposed to apologize? I didn’t ask for credentials before I helped her, you know,” he hisses back. “See, this is what happens when you do something nice, it just bites you on the ass.”** Peter rescues the fairie queen and as a reward, he's told he'll marry her son. It's not an option.
The Snake And The Otter
Author: Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: When Stiles was born, a black snake appeared into his crib on the first full moon and never left.Claudia, whose soulmate animal was a lion, hadn't even flinched, smiling and cooing at the little snake in welcome. It flicked its tongue at her, beady eyes sparking blue, and let Claudia gently stroke it's head. John, whose soulmate animal was a bear, just shook his head, wondering at what kinds of trouble his son and his soulmate would get in to.
If I Were ‘A Were’
Author: syriala
Summary: Stiles knew that he wasn’t the most subtle person to ever grace this earth. But compared to the Hale’s he was a fucking ninja. He couldn’t believe that no one had figured out yet that they were actually werewolves. Real, actual, honest to god werewolves.That no one knew about.Stiles really started to question this town’s intelligence.But Stiles was determined to find out how many dog/wolf related puns he could make before someone caught on to the fact that he actually knew.
I’ll Watch Anything As Long It Is With You
Author: Sage_Speight_Trickster_In_Training
Summary: Ever since Stiles was a kid and first hear his parent's story about how they met with their soulmark he couldn't wait until his showed up. He would always marvel how some day he would look down and see the first words his soulmate would say to him. His best friend Scott got his words when he was eight and ever since those words showed up he would carry at least four pens with him everywhere he went, waiting for the moment when someone asked him to borrow one. The prettiest girls is school, Lydia, got hers when she turned ten and Stiles felt his first heartbreak when they weren't his words. That was also the year his mother got sick and the words on his father's lower left knee , written in his mother´s hand writing, began to fade. Stiles knew that when soulmates faded that that meant their soulmate was dead. That same year he went with his father when he went to a tattoo parlor to get his mother's first words tattooed onto him so they would stop fading.
Naked Terror
Author: Bunnywest
Summary: Peter's only here to inspect the fire extinguisher. The last thing he expects is for a naked man to come charging at him, swinging a baseball bat and screaming.
Kiss Me Once, Shame On Me
Author: yesterday
Summary: “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you,” Stiles said.“Where is your holiday spirit, Stiles? This is for charity; it said so outside.” Peter was smirking. He was right. Stiles set the sandwich board out there himself this morning— “For every smooch under the mistletoe, one dollar will be donated to Beacon Hills Children’s Hospital!” 
Forget everything Stiles ever said about Christmas cheer. He officially hated the holidays.
The (Sometimes) Happy Holidays Series
Author: Potrix
Part 1: (Not So) Silent Night
Summary: “Santa Claus, 42, looking for a sweet angel, 18+, with big or small Christmas ornaments for not so silent nights together. Tree stand available and ready. No Santa hat, no action.”Several people swivel around to glare at Stiles, but, really, he can’t be held responsible for this. Sure, a waiting room isn’t the best place to suddenly burst out laughing, but it’s totally the fault of whoever laid out the latest issue of Bella Diva. It’s not like Stiles normally makes a habit of buying and reading women’s magazines.Apart from the occasional Cosmo. The quizzes are always hilarious.
Part 2: (Annoyingly) Happy Valentine’s Day
Summary: “Welcome to the Beacon Blossom!” the saleswoman behind the counter chirps happily, and Peter watches, a little dazed, as the blinking plastic hearts attached to her headband bounce back and forth. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”Peter deposits the bouquet of red roses on the counter, and nearly drops his wallet when the woman coos—actually coos—and says, nodding her head, “A classic. Your wife will absolutely love them, I guarantee it.” She swipes Peter’s card when he hands it to her, then points it at a basket stuffed full with some of the most garishly pink teddy bears Peter’s ever had the misfortune of seeing. “Now, since today’s a special day, if you buy a bouquet and one of our Sweetheart Bears, the cheaper item is 50% off.”It takes some effort, but Peter manages to bite back his initial, sarcastic retort about the bear clashing with his furniture. Or anything else not absolutely, horrifyingly hideous, for that matter. “Just the roses, please.”
The Holly Bears A Berry Red As Any Blood
Author:  ladypigswagon
Summary: Stiles swears as the car hits another pothole dead on and he goes flying out of his seat, hardly restrained by the seat belt, smacking his head on the roof.“Language,” John says mildly, turning the page of his newspaper. Stiles grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. He can feel a lump developing.“Every year,” Stiles says, “every goddamn year, the Hales send their craziest driver to pick us up. Every year we hit every pothole and every year I get a lump on my head. In the same place! How this hasn’t damaged me permanently I don’t know?!”
Winding Roads To Flowering Fields Series
Author: Tahlruil
Part 1: Deserving Him
Summary: Scott couldn't even seem to live comfortably in his world of black and white absolutes. He could understand why the Lahey boy had broken with Derek, he supposed - his nephew was never meant to be an Alpha, and that had always been painfully obvious. What Peter didn't understand was why he'd then put himself deliberately in Scott's pack. He didn't understand why anyone would align themselves with someone so pathetic when it came to leading others. He didn't understand why new betas, humans and other supernaturals alike flocked to him, an Alpha who had no true understanding of what it meant to be pack. Peter didn't understand why Stiles - beautiful, intelligent, deadly Stiles - chose to call Scott his Alpha.'Peter has been watching Stiles for quite some time now, and he has trouble understanding why Stiles chooses to align himself with Scott. The McCall Alpha doesn't even seem to notice that his best friend is still reeling from his encounter with the Nogitsune... or that Peter is the one trying to soothe that hurt.Stiles, Peter is sure, deserves better.
Part 2: Not An Idiot
Summary: Maybe in some places an idiot could get elected Sheriff - not in a town like Beacon Hills. Dumb deputies (or just very unlucky ones) tended to die before they got the chance to try to move up the ranks. So John Stilinski isn't an idiot even if he (on occasion) chooses not to see the whole picture. Stiles is getting better and he's grateful - he just wishes that maybe it was someone else getting his kid get there.Even though it's not the smartest move, he calls a friend about it.He's not an idiot, okay, he's not. He just... needs a little help, and who better to help with a werewolf problem than an Argent?
Part 3: Ground Me
Summary: "...this is not 'guard duty', you idiot. This is pack - the way pack is supposed to be." Stiles probably should have been freaked out or maybe turned on by the way Peter pressed his nose to the crook of Stiles' neck and breathed in deep. He definitely should have felt one of those things when Peter dragged his cheek upward and then skimmed it over Stiles' jaw. He didn't though, not with what he knew about werewolves; all he felt when his wolf scented him was a sense of comfort, belonging and home. "And you don't take 'nights off' when it comes to being pack."
Part 4: Coming Home Is Something Strange
Summary: Two weeks into living under John's roof, Chris realized that all four of them were settling into a routine that was decidedly, disturbingly, domestic. He and Peter banded together in the fight to keep the Stilinskis healthy, and half the time they seemed to end up doing the grocery shopping together. So long as they only talked about things like how many apples they should get and if they needed to pick up some detergent, things between them were just fine.They'd only tried to discuss the deeper things once. It had ended in a bloody nose for Chris and a knife laced with wolfsbane sticking out of Peter's thigh. Neither Stilinski male had been happy about it. Their reactions forced Chris and Peter into another unspoken truce, and that was... okay. Maybe they didn't need to hash out everything between them. Things had been a fucking mess between their families for centuries; their best bet seemed to be to let sleeping dogs lie.
Part 5: A Surprising Visit
Summary: "No! It's not... it's nothing like that. Hi Stiles. I'm sorry for just, you know. Showing up like this? But I thought that if I called or texted you might not. Uhm. Open the door. I still should have texted. I'm sorry. It's just that you mentioned watching Mulan and I really love that movie. And we've all been being really bad friends except maybe you and I weren't friends? Because with everything that happened I feel like I never got to know you, not really. And then I guess I got caught up in trying to get to know Scott. Have I mentioned I'm sorry?""Couple times," Stiles said, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was going on. "So you came over to hang out?""You sound surprised," Kira said quietly. She looked kind of sad, which he didn't completely get but whatever. "Which means I'm a terrible friend. But!" Kira reached into her bag and pulled out a DVD - it was Mulan, and Stiles felt something warm and sort of gooey unfurl in his chest. He already had a copy, but that she had brought one meant that she really had come to watch it. She had come just to hang out with him without pack business forcing her to, and that was pretty awesome. "I'm going to try and change that."
Part 6: When I Have A Pack, Things Will Change
Summary: "Well it is a grocery store, Scott," he said without looking up from the package of steak in his hand. John had been having a difficult time at work with all those pesky disappearances and Peter thought the man deserved a treat. He had to weigh that against the knowledge that Stiles would be upset, however, which had him debating if he shouldn't grab the 'extra lean' cut instead of going with the regular kind of lean. "Even us deviously evil masterminds must eat and the takeout in this town is deplorable."Peter heard a subsonic growl leave McCall's throat and let himself smirk with satisfaction. Frustrating the so-called Alpha was different than pissing him off, surely...
A Match Made In Hell Series
Author: JPA
Part 1: Marked
Summary: Stiles is eleven when he gets the courage to look into the mirror and see what his soulmate mark reads.
Part 2: I Wish
Summary: Peter had been born without a soulmark.
Part 3: Revelations
Summary: “Ah, Stiles,” Peter says, eyes gleaming. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Rant-A-Thon
Author: Ragga
Summary: So Stiles may be having a bad day. Or a week. Or a semester. But he knows he just needs to blow off some steam and then he will be better than ever. And accosting a random guy and blurting out his entire life story? That sounds like the perfect idea!And as it turned out, it was. OR Stiles rants a lot and then Peter feeds him. And soulmates.
Merry Christmas, Dude!
Author: lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)
Summary: The beat was pressing down on Stiles in a pleasant way, pushing out some of the worry and tension. It was the last week before finals and Stiles just couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been studying non-stop for three weeks and had felt like his head would explode. Even the promise of going home to spend Christmas with his family was barely holding him up. Also with it being his last year of college and completely packed, he hadn’t had time to get laid at all. Which was totally unacceptable. OR, the one where Stiles has mind-blowing sex with a hot stranger.
Cookies & Mates
Author: withinmelove
Summary: Stiles doesn't expect to enjoy pretending to be Peter's mate. Surprises are in store for him.
Shifter Criminal Investigative Service Series
Author: Heather_Night
Part 1: Vanilla
Summary: Cutie startled violently, crying out, and Peter’s wolf demanded he take care of the creature.The vanilla scent meant being in close proximity wasn’t a hardship so Peter lifted the lightly squirming body into his arms and shushed him.Thank the moon neither his nephew nor niece could see him now as he was pretty certain this qualified as cuddling.Peter did not cuddle. Ever.
Part 2: En Garde
Summary: Usually it was the third date when things went to hell for Stiles. Maybe he tried too hard or maybe he just wasn’t that likeable but usually after meeting up one-on-one for the third time the person he was interested in either gave him the ‘let’s be friends’ speech or they lost his number.This time felt different but Stiles tried to tamp down on his soaring hopes. Peter was an off-the-scales out-of-his-league level of hot, and he was also smart, accomplished and older. What did he see in a spaz like Stiles?
Part 3: Transformation
Summary: Now was not the time to lose his focus as the Shifter Criminal Investigative Service was in the midst of a big investigation regarding a new series of seemingly connected homicides. Unfortunately his wolf, and his human side for that matter, wanted to see Stiles and make sure the younger man was okay.
Part 4: Unfettered
Summary: “It’s what? You obviously don’t want me in Beacon Hills. Is it that you think your dad will disapprove of me because of our age difference, your alpha will disapprove of me because I’m not good enough, you don’t want to be seen with a werewolf or what exactly is the issue here?” Peter’s tone was as bland as the expression on his face. The more upset Peter became, the more dispassionate he appeared.Not good. It was time for damage control. Check that; it was time for the truth. Stiles gathered his courage. “I don’t want you to see me the way everyone in Beacon Hills does. There, are you happy?”
Black Fire
Author: Green
Summary: Deaton is all about the balance of the universe, about order. Stiles's new magic - gifted to him from the Nogitsune - is the complete opposite of that. Deaton calls Stiles's magic "dark" and seeks to imprison him in Eichen where he's no threat to the balance. Peter and Stiles go on the run - but they can't run forever.
When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Escalate The Problem
Author: Julibean19
Summary: “I didn’t tell you because I knew what you were going to say,” Stiles hedges, shrugging his shoulders.“And what am I going to say?” John challenges, raising his eyebrows.“That he’s too old for me and you hate him.”Peter pushes the screen door open with one hand, the other balancing a perfectly browned quiche. He’s dressed in a dark blue cashmere sweater and grey slacks. To Stiles, he looks like a dream. To his father, he’s sure to look like his worst nightmare.“He’s too old for you and I hate him,” John says immediately.
Ink And Unanswered Questions
Author: Callidostreet
Summary: Talia was always covered in marks from her soulmate: reminders to feed the dog, interesting words-of-the-day, random stick doodles. They didn't meet face-to-face until middle school, but they'd known each other inside out long before then. When Peter is old enough to understand what the word 'soulmates' entails, he can't wait until he finds his."Are you there?" Is the first thing Peter writes on his body, his excitement is practically tangible.He won't get a reply for another 10 years.
See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil (Doesn't Mean There Is No Evil)
Author: syriala
Summary: Stiles knew that something was wrong. He had a very perceptive eye for evil and things that were going wrong and something in his life was going very wrong. But when neither Scott nor Derek believed him it was up to Peter to keep Stiles safe.
Could Frame Thy Mortal
Author: orphan_account
Summary: "It’s normal. Spending every waking second watching Hale is normal. In many ways, Hale is his whole universe: tracking his movements, waiting for what he does next, wondering what he’s thinking. The only outside stimulation he gets otherwise is the shower visits, and even then it’s only when Chris is the one taking him that he gets any engagement. Stiles knows Hale like he knows the water pipe. The sixty two bars that line the side of their cage. Like the minute of cold water that hits Stiles’ skin before the heat finally comes in the shower block. "Held in an Argent facility, never knowing who he can trust, Stiles pays for his survival with the only currency he has.
more fics: part 4
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olivay-official · 7 years
Text
Spiderman: Bad Breath and Bad at keeping Secrets
Peter Parker x Michelle (MJ) .... sort of
@tomllholland Thank you for the amazing prompts!!! :D I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
Was too excited/lazy to edit please excuse grammatical and spelling errors.
1. we have to stop meeting like this.
7. there’s only room for one hero in this city and it’s not you
24. I just have to outrun you
Peter loved being Spiderman- why wouldn’t he? The chance to be the hero was almost too good to pass up. Other than the late nights, and the lies, and the inconvenient scheduling of criminal activity, Spiderman hardly ever interfered with his school life. Peter was confident he could keep the two lives separate, after all he had Ned and Tony Stark to help him. The more Peter thought about it the more he thought that he had it all together- what could go wrong?
“Alright everyone, we’re going to be running laps around the gym. Now I don’t want to hear any whining- it is a requirement for this course to be able to run the mile in under twelve minutes,” The gym coach was going over the agenda for the day, much to everyone’s dismay it required a lot of running. Peter looked towards Michelle who was happily (he assumed) reading at the back of the bleachers. He idly wondered what she was reading this time. Last week it had been the Feminine Mystique.
“Now pair up we are going to start with the relay!” The groups organized themselves for the race. Peter wasn’t particularly worried about gym class anymore. Since becoming Spiderman gym class was a cake walk for him. He knew he was stronger and faster than everyone else there. Of course just because he had special abilities didn’t mean he could be out showing them off, his sudden athleticism might look a tad suspicious, so instead he just skated by with ease putting almost no effort into the class.
The whistle sounded and the relay started. Peter was in the last group of the relay standing next to his ‘biggest fan’- Flash.
“You scared Parker,” Flash taunted. Peter knit his brows together as he looked at Flash.
“Scared? Why would I be scared?” Peter asked.
“Scared I’m going to beat you Parker! Let’s face it you’re not the athletic type.” Flash smirked. Peter simply rolled his eyes- he had no idea who he was dealing with.
“Flash why does it ma—“ a loud rumbling erupted from behind the bleachers effectively cutting Peter off and silencing the rest of the students. All was still for a moment. A roar tore through the air as a giant golden dragon man came crashing through the bleachers slicing them into silver shards (Thank goodness no one was sitting on them). Immediately people began screaming as they ran from the field back towards the gymnasium. Bad this is very very bad, Peter thought as he remembered his spidey suit was still in his bag in the locker room. Flash and Peter turned on a dime as they began running for their lives. They had been the closest to the dragon man unfortunately and due to his large size he was gaining on them quickly.
“He’s too fast,” Peter shouted. Even if Peter were to run at full speed (and leave flash behind) it still wouldn’t be fast enough.
“I don’t have to outrun that thing,” Flash huffed.
“Huh?” Peter glanced back his way and was unnerved by the look in Flash’s eyes. Uh-oh.
“I just have to outrun you! (24.)” With those words Flash stuck his foot out and sent Peter stumbling to the ground. “Nothing personal Parker! Just survival of the fittest ya’know!” Flash called back to him as he ran for his own life. Typical, Peter thought bitterly. A low growl and a hot swoosh of air reminded him of where he was. Slowly Peter turned to come face to face with Dragon Breath himself. Foul air assaulted his nose as the beast breathed on him.
“Ever heard of a breath mint buddy?” Peter muttered, more to calm his own nerves than anything- humor was a great defense for fear. The dragon man’s eyes began to glow a bright terrifying red. Peter froze uncertain what he could do at such a close range without his web shooters. As Peter tensed his body for an evasive maneuver a large book crashed into the beast’s head. The monster reeled back roaring in anger as he and Peter both turned to see Michelle standing her ground.
“Hey get away from my friend!” Michelle commanded. The monster angled his body away from Peter his eyes now set solely on Michelle as they grew a deeper brighter shade of red. Peter leapt to his feet sprinting into action.
“I. Am. The. Dragon. King!” The beast called out as beams shot from his eyes leaving flames in their wake. A dragon that shoots lasers from it’s eyes- well that’s new, Peter thought as he grabbed Michelle’s hand and dragged her out of the way and back towards the gym where his spidey suit awaited him. The Dragon King was chasing after them with frightening speed. Peter picked up the pace half dragging Michelle along with him.Once through the school doors Peter shoved Michelle towards where everyone else seemed to be holed up- the weight room. In hindsight that seemed like such a terrible plan but Peter was simply grateful they hadn’t chosen the boys locker room. Peter tore the door open and hastily shoved Michelle through it before slamming it shut. He could already hear everyone’s questions- was she okay? what happened? How did she get away?
Peter skid into the locker room rapidly spinning in his locker combination as the gymnasium walls shook. Looks like the monster had finally made it inside. In seconds Peter was decked out in his Spidey suit, Karen greeting him cheerfully. Peter took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he heard the screams. Without missing a beat Peter swung out the locker room door and towards the weight room to check on his fellow classmates. He could already feel the Dragon King’s footsteps reverberating through the building. Peter, or rather Spiderman, opened the door to find his terrified peers.
“Is everyone alright in here?” Peter asked. A few nodded in response.
“We will be as long as you stop that thing out there!” Their gym teacher sniped.
“Glad to hear you’re all okay,” Spiderman suppressed a chuckled.
“Wait no,” Michelle spoke up, “where’s Peter?” She asked looking around frantically. Uh oh.
“Probably got too scared and ran home to mommy,” Flash piped up. You little- Peter didn’t bother finishing the thought, no word would actually encapsulate what he thought of Flash. 
“I haven’t seen him since the monster showed up,” Someone from the back of the room chimed in.
“I was with him a minute ago before Spider-“ Michelle started.
“He went to the bathroom!” Ned shouted over Michelle.
“And he chose now to do that?” Michelle asked in shock.
“Uh yeah! He has a sensitive… bladder,” Ned covered. Aw Ned we gotta work on your excuses buddy, Peter sighed internally.
“You have to find him.” Michelle looked desperately towards Spiderman.
“Uh yeah sure I’ll check up on him before I go fight the evil monster thing. In the meantime you guys stay here and whatever you do don’t leave,” Peter commanded them. Another roar shook the halls sounding a little too close this time. Peter quickly slammed the door and ran towards the gym. Sure enough the Dragon Kind was making a mess of the gymnasium, tearing pipes from the walls, throwing portions of the bleachers against the wall, one basketball hoop ripped down, a portion of wall leading to the outside field was left with a gaping hole.
“Someone’s having a temper tantrum,” Peter taunted turning the beast’s attention towards him. The beast let out a mighty roar before letting loose some more fiery beams from his eyes. Spiderman leapt out of the way swinging up and onto the lone basketball hoop still in place.
“What’s your vision like with those things man?” Another beam crashed into the hoop. Peter leapt to the wall nearest him. “You got 20/20?” Peter leapt onto a portion of bleacher as another beam sailed by him. “Can you only see in red?” He leapt onto another section of bleacher to dodge a beam. “Wait, am I only partially visible to you right now?” Peter asked excitedly before being swatted to the side crashing into a solid wall. “Nngh- I guess not,” Peter mumbled as he pried himself from the now damaged wall.The Dragon King raised it’s arm to strike again. Peter let loose a torrent of webbing attaching the monsters hand to the ceiling. The monster let loose a frustrated roar as Peter swung up around his head doing his best to securely cocoon the Dragon King’s hand. A laser beam barely missed Peter’s leg.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” Peter asked sending a shot of webbing into the beast’s eyes. The monster hollered immediately moving his arms to rub his eyes. Peter laughed up until the Dragon King pulled it’s other hand free and swatted him. Peter went sailing through the air with a human sized ball of webbing from the Dragon King’s hand. Peter crashed through the gymnasium wall with a puff of dust and a loud crash. Peter shook off the daze of the hit finding himself tangled in his own webbing high on the wall of the boys bathroom and in front of him stood… Michelle?
“We have to stop meeting like this (1), “ Peter chuckled dazedly. He expected Michelle to laugh but she said nothing as she moved closer to him their faces maybe only an inch apart. unable to move very much Peter’s heart began to thrum in his chest. Her hands gently grabbed his face her fingers edging towards the masks end. Peter’s mouth felt dry. She was so closer to him now and he was trapped.
“Now’s your chance Peter- kiss her!” Karen cheered. Peter cursed her silently. Karen insisted he kiss any and every civilian he got close enough to. Of course in this position Peter worried Karen might finally get her wish, not like he could do much to stop it. Peter could never recall a time Michelle fangirl-ed over Spiderman so why-
Very suddenly Michelle turned his head from side to side rather roughly.
“Your head is shaped weird,” she muttered.
“Yeah well that’s what radioactive spider venom will do to a guy,” Spiderman laughed nervously. Michelle looked up at the webbing wrapped all around him. Reaching up with a quick snap Michelle sent Peter crashing into the floor. Peter groaned as he shook his head.
“Where’s Peter?” She asked as Spiderman pulled himself to his feet.
“He uh- he um already went back to the weight room which is where you should be,” Spiderman explained.
“I never saw him in the hall,” Michelle stated skeptically. A roar pulled Peter’s attention towards the hole in the wall where he could see the monster making his way towards the hall. Not good.
“Look um I’m sure he’s fine Michelle alright?” Peter blurted out.
“You know my name?” Michelle asked stunned. No no no no no! I did not just say that!! Peter’s head spun.
“No I don’t!” Peter said too quickly.
“You just said my name,” Michelle stated slowly.
“I don’t know you!” Peter’s voice squeaked.
“You know who I am?” Michelle asked, eyes widening slightly.
“What? No! I gotta go! Bye random stranger!” Peter shouted turning to run towards the monster who he was looking increasingly forward to battling again.
“You know who I am!” Michelle shouted.
“No I don’t. I’ve never met you before! You’re a stranger! I don’t know you!” Peter called back before swinging out into the gym and (thankfully) away from Michelle.
Spiderman swung back into the gymnasium kicking Dragon King right in the jaw causing the beast to stumble away from the doors leading to the hall. Landing in his own classic pose behind the beast he couldn’t help but belt out another taunt. One day his big mouth was probably going to get him killed.
“Do you have to have the doors specially made at your house?” Peter asked. The Dragon King roared in outrage letting loose red rays from his eyes. Spiderman leapt out of the way swinging back into the air. This time swinging behind the Dragon King and right into the back of his head causing the beast to stumble forward. He grumbled before whipping around to meet Peter. Red lasers followed Peter’s movement creating lines of fire throughout the building. If Peter didn’t put a stop to this guy soon the whole building would collapse.
“You know four out of five dentists recommend webbing for bad breathe,” Peter started. The beast let out a roar in response. “There you go!” Peter snickered as he sprayed the monsters open mouth. The Dragon King opened and closed it’s mouth rapidly in an attempt to free himself from his web caged mouth. As the Dragon King reached his arm up to rip the stuff free he was greeted with more webbing attaching his hand to his webbed mouth. Peter zipped around the room rapidly wrapping what he could to secure the monster in place. Maybe if he could keep the thing here he could make a call to Mr. Stark to have the thing picked up and sent to a facility. They had to have super villain facilities right? Peter was like 75% sure they must have a special prison for super villains. Peter landed on the gymnasium floor and smiled at his handiwork.
“You have done an exemplary job containing the beast Peter!” Karen cheered. Peter was feeling more than a little proud of himself as he admired his creation.
“Thanks Karen,” Spidey beamed.
“Webbing is almost effective! I’m sure if you had better materials it would hold him!” Karen said cheerfully.
“Wait what!?! Karen are you telling me-“ Peter was cut off by snapping sounds. The webbed mass was beginning to shake. “Not good.” Peter swallowed hard beginning to back away.
“Peter!” Michelle called stepping out of the hole Spiderman had left in the wall earlier. Her eyes scanned the room searching for him.
“Oh this is really really not good!” Peter ran his hands over his head looking between the shaking mass and his friend. Looking towards Michelle Peter broke out in a sprint towards her. All at once there was the sound of snapped webbing and a loud growl that gradually grew to a roar.
“Michelle!” Peter screamed. Red beams raced past him. Fire lit up the floor. Peter scooped a wide eyed Michelle into his arm as he swung them both away from the flashing lasers. The beast thrashed around wildly, lasers going everywhere, as he freed himself from his restraints.
“You said my name again!” Michelle panted.
“We’re about to die and that’s what you’re worried about?” Peter asked incredulously.
“You know who I am!” Michelle shot back. Peter landed on the lone basketball hoop balancing himself and Michelle with ease. He took a moment to look at her.
“I am going to get you out of here. You run and don’t come back got that?” Peter instructed her. She looked at him skeptically and didn’t respond. Peter shook his head as he swung towards the gaping hole that led out to the field. Feet first he was going to land her safely outside until a thick mass wrapped around his arm and yanked him backwards. He released Michelle, the continuing momentum sending her rolling across the grass outside. She looked back inside desperately. Please don’t come back in here to save me, Peter begged.
The Dragon King slammed Spiderman into a wall making him dizzy. He held Spiderman there in his large scaly hand. Hot breath puffed into Peter’s face.
“Yeesh! Urinal cakes are not a substitute for breath mints dude,” Peter coughed out. The Dragon King growled in response his eyes beginning to burn. Peter kicked his legs out pushing the monster’s hand away and letting him slide down the wall before the lasers could make jerky out of him. Peter quickly swung up behind him the beast turned letting his laser eyes follow him. Peter looked to the ceiling wondering how well it would hold. Then an idea came to him.  Peter swung wildly in a circle around the bast but his eyes were already dimming his anger ebbing. Well that won’t do! Peter thought. A golden coin hanging from a cord around the creatures neck stood out to Peter.
“Ooh shiny! What’s that?” Peter asked shooting a web onto the coin. Before he could pull the necklace towards him the creature let out a maniacal screech before ripping the web away. The lasers came back in full force.
“Someone’s testy about their jewelry,” Peter taunted. Keeping the beast angry. The roof was beginning to burn making web placement increasingly difficult. Peter shot another web towards the necklace. More burning lasers greeted him.
“The necklace! You need to take it from him! It’s a talisman!” Michelle shouted up to him edging back inside the building. Peter could already hear the ceiling growing above him.
“Get out of here! Now is not the time!!” Peter shouted towards her.
“No! You don’t understand! That’s Mr. Lupti’s!” Michelle shouted.
“You mean the janitor?” Peter asked barely dodging another swat from the Dragon King.
“It used to sit in his closet. He’s obsessed with dragons! He was preparing the coin for show, I think that’s him,” Michelle explained. Peter looked up towards the horribly damaged ceiling.
“You’re going to kill him!” Michelle tried desperately.
“Urghh! Damnit!” Peter muttered to himself. Michelle darted towards them. “Michelle No!” Peter screamed.
Too late. The beast turned its attention to Michelle who was frantically running through the gym barely avoiding being smashed and or burned to death. The creature was distracted but Peter didn’t have long before Michelle became roasted and the building came toppling down on top of them. Peter jumped onto the things shoulder who began to violently reach for him. With a snap Peter ripped the necklace free. A large hand sent him flaying against the wall. The building began to shake. Peter shook his head vision unsteady. The coin hit the floor with a clink. The beast was shrinking now becoming more human until Mr. Lupti lay unconscious on the floor. The building groaned as the flames continued to grow around them. Peter hobbled towards Mr. Lupti putting the man over his shoulder and dragging him to the hallway door closer to them. The hallway was safe from fire and collapse and outside the weight room he was bound to be found. Darting back through the gymnasium doors he saw Michelle looking for the coin on the floor. The building creaked. It was going down any second. A loud crack over head kickstarted Peter’s heart. Peter shot a strip of webbing around Michelle’s waist and yanking her through the air and over to him. Peter leapt back through the hall doors as the gymnasium went crashing down. Peter landed protectively around Michelle into the hallway. Smoke and dust filled the hallway as the building shook. Alarms were going off and students were racing into the hall now all shouting and screaming. Michelle looked up at Spiderman in shock, both panting heavily. Before she could speak Peter leapt to his feet and ran. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t risk anyone finding him changing out of the spider suit.
***
Despite the fact that a monster terrorized the school the day before and their Janitor was put in prison for nearly killing half the student body, Peter still had to go to school the next day. Of course Ned was teaming with questions most of which Peter didn’t want to answer that is until he brought up Michelle.
“Any idea why Michelle has a magazine with you on the cover?” Ned asked quizzically.
“I may have uh called her by name in the suit yesterday,” Peter whispered looking away from Ned.
“Dude are you crazy! She already watches you like a hawk now she’s going to be watching Spiderman too! How are you going to keep this from her?” Ned asked.
“I don’t know man I-“ Peter froze. The hair on his arms stood on end as he swiveled around in his chair. There was Flash and he was taunting Michelle. Peter grit his teeth together as he saw flash rip the magazine from her hands and begin rifling through it. Michelle didn’t move but rather simply glared at Flash.
“Peter don’t do it. It’s gonna look suspicious,” Ned tried to warn him.
“Flash!” Peter shouted as he stood. He approached him unsure of what he was actually going to do to Flash. Peter couldn’t very well fight Flash, not without seriously injuring the guy. Peter hoped it wouldn’t come to that after all Flash wasn’t one to get into an overt fist fight.
“What’s the matter Parker? Jealous your ‘friend’ is getting more of Michelle’s attention?” Flash snickered.
“Just giver her the magazine back Flash,” Peter said sternly. Flash just shook his head as he laughed at Peter.
“There’s only room for one hero in this city Parker and it’s not you (24),” Flash mocked as he ripped the cover of the magazine off. “After all Peter,” more ripping, “where were you when that monster was here?” more ripping, “Oh that’s right you ran away!” Flash laughed before tossing the remnants of the magazine at Peter. “Don’t try to be a hero Peter, it doesn’t suit you,” Flash spit before walking away. Peter looked apologetically to Michelle.
“I can uh buy you a new magazine if you-if you want, that is,” Peter stuttered out. Michelle looked him up and down and let a small smile cross her lips.
“I’m okay, I think I know enough about the guy already anyways,” Michelle smiled coyly before getting up and walking away. Peter swallowed hard. Did she- No she couldn’t possible know his secret…. could she? Peter stared down at the remnants of the magazine noticing the ink scrawls made along the margins. Maybe Michelle didn’t know but she was certainly determined to find out.
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tumbleon · 7 years
Text
Go well, Celia
The first time I saw Celia Mancini was on celluloid. 
Three years ago, my flatmates and I headed out in the rain to catch a screening of Margaret Gordon’s documentary about the Christchurch band Into the Void at Alice’s, a theatre in the centre of town that holds about 30 people. 
Most of the documentary consisted of the band laughing about how they drank together far more often than they made music. 
But the atmosphere changed when a clip from King Loser’s ’76 Come Back Special video jumped off the screen. A presence appeared: a femme fatale with jet black hair and red lips. She sprinted in short heels through the streets of Auckland, picking off men with whatever she had lying around: a car, a rifle, a karate chop. 
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King Loser, ‘76 Come Back Special 
“Wow,” I breathed. 
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Onto the next one... Still from the ‘76 Come Back Special video. Get it, Celia. 
One of the people she murdered in the video was her bandmate Chris Heazlewood. Their personalities sparked when they met in Auckland in 1992. Celia spit venom, and Chris liked it. Celia liked him, too. King Loser was born shortly afterwards. 
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King Loser press shot for Flying Nun Records. Left to right: Celia Mancini, Lance Strickland, Chris Heazlewood. Not pictured: Sean O’Reilly
“That whole video was all her idea!” he cried. “She’s got a real good eye for iconography. She was like, ‘I need to be in a black vinyl catsuit, and I need to be killing everybody, and I need to die at the end.’” 
Celia was larger than life. She was also still very much alive. Unlike the actual members of Into the Void, who were somewhat useless at remembering the finer details of their history, Celia had scrapbooks full of newspaper clippings. More than 20 years after the fact, she still had everything saved, as if she always knew that someone would need it one day. She was a rock star and an archivist. My heart glowed. As disparate as our lives seemed, I could relate to her in that one small way. 
Media is often talked about as if it is some evil, homogenous lump of globalised ephemera with no real connection to anything or anyone other than capitalism and corporate profits. But in New Zealand, people step out of celluloid and cross over from the screen into everyday life all the time. You just have to know where to look, and who to find.  
At one point in the documentary, Into the Void played in a gravel lot on High Street where their practise room used to be. One kid watched from the sidewalk, his hair bouncing. An hour after the screening, Mary and I were at the darkroom, and so was he. 
“We just saw your movie,” we crooned. “Loved your scene.” 
Though Celia first became known for her presence in Christchurch bands like The Stepford 5 and The Axel Grinders in the 80s, she didn’t live in Christchurch anymore. 
(You can hear one of The Stepford 5′s songs here). 
Although King Loser was born in Auckland, the band also lived in Dunedin for a bit. Part of that history included joining Peter Gutteridge in a reformed line-up of Snapper. The New Zealand poet David Merritt referred to their triumvirate as “an axis of good and evil”.
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Self-portrait of Snapper, c. 1992 by Chris Heazlewood. Left to right: Peter Gutteridge, Celia Mancini, Chris Heazlewood. Not pictured: Mike Dooley. 
Though their relationship didn’t last, they remained close friends. 
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Celia always used to introduce Chris to people with the line, “And this is my guitarist, Chris Heazlewood.” Photo courtesy of Chris Heazlewood, who said: “Note proprietary position of hand on shoulder.”
Celia’s and my paths first crossed two years ago in a bar on Karangahape Road in Auckland. Though I had killed a lot of time on K Road – I had written a novel there in another life, years before moving to the South Island – I had never seen Celia before. This time around, I was doing an oral history project on Peter Gutteridge. This time, I knew who I was looking for. 
Chris Heazlewood was playing at the Audio Foundation, though I missed it (what gig finishes by ten?). Apparently, Celia appeared with a drummer and demanded that they play. Chris conceded. They smashed it. 
After the show I ended up at Verona, and Celia was there too, in a black silk dress. Her arm was in a cast. One of her front teeth was chipped. The bar was loud and crowded. She talked with a drawl, and a bit under her breath. Her words rolled together like liquid and I couldn’t make out a thing she said. After a few moments she held up her cigarette and announced: “I’ll leave you for more conversation with this one.” She nodded to me. “Scintillating.” That I understood. I broke into a smile. I had just been insulted, but I didn’t care. She was funny. 
Later that night a boy at the bar leaned in my face when he heard I was writing about Peter Gutteridge. 
“Who?” the boy spat. 
“He’s a musician,” I replied. 
“Who?” he asked again, louder.
“Uh…” I tried to think of which band to mention first.  
“I know who he is,” the boy seethed. “He was a friend of mine. Do you think he would have wanted you to write about him?” 
He hit a nerve. I almost cried. 
Celia wasn’t like that at all upon learning I wanted to write about Peter.  
“I have no questions to ask you,” she said. “I’m just grateful.” She championed the project to several of their mutual friends, and put me in touch with all of them. 
We did her oral history on a sunny winter day in Auckland in 2015. Celia didn’t have a permanent address, so we met at her friend’s flat in Grey Lynn. 
Celia wanted food: she requested a pizza with anchovies, capers, and olives. I had a rockmelon. “Bring both if you can,” Celia said. Before I left, she doubled down. “I’m not joking about the rockmelon. I am half Indian, you know.” 
When I arrived, Celia was waiting in the backyard. 
“Hi!” I said as I approached. “I’m Hannah.” 
She smiled slow. “I know.” 
I had brought along the rockmelon, but by that point it had been long forgotten. 
Oral histories ought to be recorded somewhere quiet, but Celia wanted to go find some sun. 
“Lindsay, we need your keys,” Celia announced to her friend. “Hannah’s going to borrow your car.” It came off a bit abrupt, but Lindsay didn’t seem to mind. He tossed me his keys. I also needed power; he handed me eight rechargeable batteries and told me to keep them. 
Boxes of Celia’s archives formed towers around Lindsay’s toilet. Even though she didn’t have a home, she hadn’t lost them. Her friends seemed unusually patient and generous.  
As I drove, Celia drank. 
“I'm a bit confused lately because I don’t live in Auckland,” Celia said. “I really want to be going home. I’ve been trying for two years.”
“Where’s home?” I asked.
She looked as me as if I was blind. “Dunedin!” she cried. “Always.”
We ended up on a park bench near the lake in Western Springs, where ducks were basking in the late afternoon sun. 
Celia poured whiskey into a mug from her flask. “Would you like a drink, darling?” She doled out the word darling like candy. 
“I would, but I can’t,” I protested. “I drove us here. I need to drive us home!” 
Celia’s mind moved a mile a minute. As she talked, her words started to blur again, and I struggled to separate them, just like at the bar. My replies were flat. Most of the time I managed only a generic response once she had finished. “Oh. Hm.” I wondered if she was making any sense. 
Later, when I listened back and slowed down the recording, Celia was totally lucid, and I sounded like an idiot. She would go off on three separate tangents in the middle of a sentence – but at the end of every sentence, she offered up about seven ideas. 
Much of what Celia said blasted apart the two-dimensional statements that have been repeated so many times about rock music in New Zealand, they are often passed off as truisms. One is that the scene is full of amateurs who learned by the seat of their pants. 
Celia didn’t ascribe to any of that bullshit. She loved classical music, played ragtime and honky-tonk on the piano from the age of five, and was a brass player in several orchestras as a kid. 
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And then she fucking rocked.
Another one of the two-dimensional truisms was that being on stage came with no pretence. Everyone wore street clothes. 
Celia didn’t give a fuck about precedents. The world was her stage, and she was going to own it.  
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Celia and her band Mother Trucker performing ‘Eric Estrada’ in 1998. 
“People turned their back on the audience,” Roy Colbert told me over coffee. “Then, here comes Celia walking the stage like it’s a runway in a nightie. People had never seen anything like it before. Jaws were on the floor.” Roy laughed.
Celia and I reminisced about Peter and purred.
“I miss his tone of voice,” she said.
“So gentle,” I agreed.
She smiled. “So sweet.”
Although our first encounter was a bit acerbic, Celia treated me like gold ever since I wrote about Peter. She said my dissertation rendered her speechless. A rarity, one of her friends mused. Don’t worry, another chimed in. I’m sure it’ll wear off soon. Her reputation remained contentious, but she also remembered my birthday. 
About a year later, word spread that King Loser had started to play together again. Shows were scheduled across the islands for September. As the dates neared, rumours rumbled through Dunedin that communication in the band had started to break down. There was talk the band might not make it.
But they did—curiosity regarding their arrival turned into cries of lament from Port Chalmers that Celia had demanded the entire stage be moved at the last minute.
Danny and Nikolai of Elan Vital had been drinking at Mou to mourn its last day before being sold; a brief sojourn to pick them along the way turned into a two-hour detour.
“Have shots with us,” they pressed.
“I’ll have a beer; I can’t have shots though,” I said. “I really want us to make this show.”
That night outside the Tunnel Hotel, the atmosphere was giddy. Nikolai leapt at Danny and pulled down his pants. Renee was draped over the fence outside the hotel in a fur coat, eyes glistening and grin demented. King Loser was back.
Chris Heazlewood passed us on the street on the way in.
I lit up. “You made it!”
“Agh,” he muttered. “Dragged that bitch all the way from the top of the North Island to the bottom of the South...”
I smiled. “Well, we’re glad you did.”
The bar was packed. There were black leather miniskirts that looked like they had been dusted off from 20 years back.
There was no sign of Celia. Sometime after midnight, the band started to play without her. Eventually Celia stalked in an oversized fur coat from stage right. Her hair was teased and piled up a mile high over a white collared shirt buttoned up her neck and a black silk tie. 
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If looks could kill... Celia at The Tunnel Hotel in Port Chalmers, September 2016. Photo by Esta de Jong
Celia threw her coat behind her over a lamp. Their drummer—Lance Strickland, aka Tribal Thunder—carefully removed it.
Once they started playing, it all came together. Chris and Celia taunted one another. Lance was on point. At one point Celia almost knocked the keyboard into the audience, but Lance leapt out and caught it. Elan Vital and Death and the Maiden threw themselves into each other in front of the band, manic.
“I love you Celia!” Renee crowed. 
“Another whiskey, please, somebody?” Celia posited to the audience.  
“Somebody get her a whiskey!” Renee hollered, carrying the decibel of the request over to the bar.
“Thought she wasn’t going to make it for a minute there,” I mused to Roy Colbert, who happened to be standing in front of me.
“Don’t be fooled,” he said. “Celia wanted all eyes on her. She loved it.”
Word of King Loser quieted down a bit again after the shows.  
The following summer I moved to North East Valley, and not long after that cycled past Chris Heazlewood walking a dog along North Road.
“King Loser is playing at the Crown this Sunday afternoon,” Chris said. “So, Celia’s down obviously.”
The cover charge was only five dollars. My whole flat came; those with a bit of extra money covered for the ones who couldn’t afford it.
By the time I arrived, Connie Benson was on her last song. Afterwards, King Loser were even tighter than before. There was no false starts, no long wait. The first song came like a bullet train. Wham! Celia introduced another. Wham! Then another came straight after, without any introduction. Wham!
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King Loser kill it at The Crown Hotel in Dunedin, March 5, 2017. 
“Shall we have Connie Benson come up and play our last song with us?” Celia asked before the set ended.
The crowd cheered. Connie’s eyes widened.
“Come on, Connie.” Celia started a chant. “Connie! Connie!”
Connie slowly took her guitar out of the case.
Connie glanced between Celia and Chris as the band launched into a riff. She watched Chris’ fingers and slowly started to imitate them. Lance lifted his chin at Connie, encouraging her to go faster.
Celia stopped the song after about 30 seconds. ““All right, Connie,” Celia insisted until the beast ground to a halt, it’s E, F#, A...” Celia rattled off the notes they were playing.
I melted for the girl for being put on the spot to play a song that she didn’t know. Connie didn’t seem to mind, though.
“Isn’t she amazing?” Celia asked the audience at the end. “Connie Benson!” I couldn't tell whether Celia had been trying to humiliate her, or not. Celia ran over to Connie after the set.
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Celia Mancini performing a matinee King Loser show at The Crown Hotel in Dunedin, New Zealand, March 2017. Photo by Jacque Ruston. 
“Man,” my flatmate Caitlin marvelled. “What do you think she is like in person?”
“I’ve met her a few times,” I said. “I think what you see is what you get.”
Caitlin wouldn’t have to wonder for long. That weekend, Celia turned up at our flatwarming in the valley with a small entourage round midnight.
Marcus apologised on her behalf. “You know Celia,” he said. “She wanted to make an entrance.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I smiled. “Come as you are, whenever you like.”
It was a great night. Celia insulted the music, the lighting, and everyone at the party straightaway. 
“What is this?” Celia’s head swiveled. “You’re living in some student flat?”
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Yes. But it has a band room... 
Caitlin tried to tell her a joke. Celia didn’t let her finish. “I’ve got a joke!” she declared. Then she forgot the ending, and cracked herself up anyway.  
Caitlin stared. “I’m laughing. Your joke is really funny.”
“Cunt!” Celia crowed. 
Caitlin put an arm on her shoulder. “Celia. I’m glad you’re here. But this is my house…”
Celia had already moved onto the record player. I tried to apologise for Celia, but Caitlin didn’t care. “Oh, I think she decided I was all right in the end.”  
“What is this music?” Celia cried. My flatmates had put on something... electronic. “Change it!” she hollered. 
I was more hesitant. “Someone wanted to hear this...”
“Put something that you like on,” Celia insisted. “You have good taste.” 
She had no knowledge of my taste, but was charming enough to get people to go along in spite of how little what was said stacked up against facts. 
At one point she sallied up next to me as I messed around on the organ in our hall. “That’s really good,” she encouraged, her eyes locked onto mine. 
Immediately after I put on some rock and roll, a boy started dancing in our lounge with a broom. 
Celia smiled. “See?” She cranked up the volume. 
“We have to keep it down,” my flatmate Icky insisted. “Noise control already came. I don’t want my stereo taken away.”
“The neighbours only called noise control because of that shithouse music you were playing before,” Celia insisted. “They didn’t like the BASS. It has to do with FREQUENCY. This is a higher frequency, it’s fine.” She cranked the volume back up on her way out to the backyard. 
Icky stared after her. “I think I’m in love.” He turned it back down once she had left. 
“This lighting is awful,” Celia mused. “Lighting can make or break a party.” We turned a few lights off. “Better,” she insisted. 
“She wasn’t that bad,” my flatmate Jenny said later on. “She wasn’t causing drama for the sake of it. Everything she was saying was about trying to make the party better.” 
Celia was still putting records on when I slithered off to bed around two in the morning. The next day my flatmates told me that she was one of the last to leave. 
Our time together was so short when compared with those who loved her and spent decades by her side. Yet as her spirit drifts from the bottom of the South Island to the top of the North Island and flies out over Cape Reinga, it feels still like I ought to share the little that I knew. If there was a legacy to carry forwards from the short time I spent with Celia, it was to engage. Celia can be channeled anytime someone moves with a certain modus operandi: Pay no mind to precedents. Focus on making the music good. Improve the party. 
I have been lucky enough to find something in New Zealand, though I can’t quite yet describe it. If all of the people who had an impact on each other’s lives all over these islands could be seen at once, it would light up the night like rich constellations in a cloudless winter sky. But as time passes, clouds are forming. The brightest lights are slowly fading, and some are disappearing altogether from sight. 
Yesterday, another soft glowing star faded from the constellations that tell the story of a time and a place. 
Go well, Celia.
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Celia Mancini by Brigid Grigg-Eyley            
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robandsonsme · 5 years
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Jade, Rory and Nathaniel          -                 (A Sad True Story)
By Robert Sherriff 2017
Jade, Rory and Nathaniel Oh, no please No. Not again. Has anybody here seen my friends? Jade, Rory and Nathaniel. Please tell me where they’re gone? By Robert Sherriff 2017 Déjà vu it has happened again. I have had this all my life. I am truly cursed? or did someone put an evil spell on me? I have been to places where I then get a chill. I then must get out of there as fast as I can. I knew when my Twin Brother Peter died. There were six people in the car they were all killed. My Twin and I was close. I nearly went for that ride. This happened over forty years ago. I knew when Mrs S died; I cry so much. When my father committed suicide, he took the gutless way out. When I was overseas, another friend of mine died his name was Peter. Did I know how? I was in shock. Was the Angel of death stalking me? Was my world meant to be a world of death? A song I heard over 50 years ago, in my head, then this song came out in the last twenty years. Bad habits. I had such a tragic life as a child a victim of sex abuse. A was a victim of Domestic violence followed by years of horrific abuse. I was a street kid. I only had a Grade three education. I then started my company. We turn over about four million a year. I was a two-pound baby. Three months premature. My Father broke my arm and four ribs when I was seven years old with a broomstick and his fist. As a child, I was a little seven-year-old boy who suffered such a traumatising miserable childhood. I at the age wanted to die. Again I would suffer such horrific injuries. Broken Bones. Beaten to an inch of my life. 1961 I was covered with the terrible bruises after the most savage beaten by my Father. I knew I Breathed the Devil’s Fire when I saw my Fathers Face. The hate in his eyes. Then I was to be tragically sexually abused. By adults. Employed by the State Government of South Australia. I saw the face of this evil. The face of these monsters? Have they the look of the Satin? The face of evil and terror is left on the face and in the minds of every lost and frightened little child. Perhaps it will expunge the hate and tragedy I have seen in my life. You know they have hurt me all my life. Please don’t read this if you are one of those people who think they fucking know it all don’t even scrutinise me don’t even try to understand me as you don’t know me the man behind the man I am who I am God gave me life God gave me my faith God held my hand. Did you? So, put away your pessimism. Give me your mind, your time, your heart, and your ears. The thing I want the most from you is your voice, a voice that is high and loud. A voice. That will shout out to the World. And make a difference in this World. I found God when I was 7. Please read this story a story that will stand a story that will inspire, my story. Many stories. A story of hope and courage. The World is my stage. The world can be your stage if only you let it in. Never regret what you could have done (IF) only. Oh no please, No. Not again. What would I do? What could I say? Why, why? Never have I have seen so much sorry. Why? am I so damned am I just bad luck? This story takes you back into the past and brings you back to the present day and then back to the past again. Never in my life have I ever see so much heartache and pain. The sorrow. I always get that feeling when something bad will happen. I left home that morning about 6-30am on 23-1-2003. The sky was dark, cloud cover rain and hail the wind was blowing a Gale. Speed about 34 to 40 knots (39 to 46 miles per hour; 63 to 74 kilometres per hour); dangerous storms trees were swaying. Trees uprooted. Car accidents. A neighbour’s black cat two doors down ran across the road in front of my car. I knew this would be not like any other day. My thoughts my actions my six senses. I talk about courage, love, hope, family, and strength of this beautiful family. In this world, the Woman and Man in this story are my Heroes. My heart was shallow so dark. So full of hurt, anger, why, some people blame God for things that happen. I don’t. I have taken a long time to write my thoughts on paper. My (words). When anyone says to me, they are having a tough time? I say no you’re not. I then tell them this story. Don’t you know what a tough time is? No, you don’t. Think again you have it easy. It’s not all about you in this World. Some people think because they have a sore finger it is the end of the earth. Speak out fix an unjust right a wrong. Have an open heart, love your neighbour’s? Help those who cannot help themselves. I repeat myself sometimes as I want you to see all the different stories in this story and the pain in the world my pain David and Michelle’s grief and your pain, we all need to love one another and pray. “Tears are wording the mouth can’t say nor can the soul bare” When I started writing this story, I thought to myself there are millions of other stories out there. It just happens, s to be the one I became involved. This tragedy occurred just after the new century had approached 22-1-2003 it would become a journey for David and Michelle that no one should ever have to bear. Their courage, their love for each other. This Woman is a SAINT. They are a hard-working couple who only wanted a good life for their children. The Husband was a truck driver who would sometimes work 18 hours a day and his wife would make concrete moulds of Statues and sell them in her shop to help with their expenses and their dreams. Such a friendly couple. Open hearts. So, kind. They lived in a small country town. This was a small industrial area in the shadows of grain silos. And they always made you welcome. If you turned up at their house, they would always feed you, give you a coffee. I first worked with this David back in early 1980 and in late 1990, s. We used to work for Rob Williams who had his own company in telecommunications. My mate David was a bobcat operator. And the three of us had a good working relationship. They knew us as The Three Musketeers. We would all work together until there was a bad break-up with the boss and me. My mate David would then leave after weighing up all his options. Then a year or two would pass. I was working at a paving company. I thought of them often. I knew the state this family had moved to and the town. On the way to work one day. I bought a paper; there was a story about three children drowning. I was not sure what happened (the full story) again I knew the state and town I knew something was wrong.
The sad thing about this bust up. Robert Williams was only paying me $50 for a 14hour day sometimes or 8 hours or 16 hours $50 this was going back over 30 years. I stopped working for him about 2000. I was also in hospital for 8 weeks with skin grafts during this time I never saw Williams once and I received no money to help with my young family. He begged me to not go to Work cover. When I left and took Williams and his wife to court. His wife Sharyn sent me a letter. It stated that I thought life was like winning the X-lotto and I was ripping them off. I knew then she was a fucking water buffalo. I remember I went to their house early one day, and I went to their bedroom window. Well, boy I got a shock her tits were bigger than a cow.
It reminded me about the time Robert Williams was bragging to David and myself about having sex with Sharyn’s best friend were in each other’s wedding and what a great friend Elain was how Robert was fucking her. I said what about Sharyn at the time he said fuck her it’s about getting my dick sucked. Sharyn is starting to be a fucking water buffalo. I smiled and said yes.    
I was ringing and ringing no answer again next day no response. I took a day off then the bomb went off in my brain one of their relations phoned me. I just started to cry and cry and cry. When I got home from the shops, I saw the story on the news. It scared the hell out of me. I was shaking so bad. Sweating and throwing up. I know my mate David worked in this other state of Australia. Up near Darwin NT the heartache, this is a sad story a sorrowful story, compelling story. Where they must overcome their Demons to lose one child is bad enough, but to lose three children, it would break any heart to hear of this journey an unwanted voyage how these beautiful people have coped or survived? The suicide for this case would have been tenfold over. They have always said no child or individual should die before your parents. Such an inspirational story is a story that must be told by me. We now go back in time the family decided to leave the state and move onto another warmer state Darwin. Where it would rain in the late months of the year. Michelle had a boy and a girl from her first partner (husband). David had three girls from his relationship with his first wife. Once they got married, they had a little boy. The Worst Day in my Life was at the Three Children’s Funerals. Day of the funeral the saddest thing I have ever seen the three children’s coffins they were all white on top of each over. There were about 400 people at the cemetery. David escorted his wife into the chapel he had to hold her up. I wish at that stage. I could have taken away their grief the pain what Michelle and David must have to live with for the rest of her life. Oh, why It’s not fair. When they were laying them to rest, they let three white doves go; it was beautiful. The doves fly off. Adam and my wife were there for me. I spoke to David his wife Michelle was lying on the ground she was so overcome by grief. What could I do? What could I say? The tears were running down my face. No one will ever forget their courage. They were stronger than me. They should never forget this story for courage above all her duty as a parent what she did that day was amazing she is a real hero of mine. May God always walk with her. She is a decent person, good, an excellent woman and wife and mother. May Gods Angels always be with her. I can remember, the children she had with her first (husband) the partner would fly back to the state they came from and see their Father. When the holidays were over, they would fly back to their Mother and David their Stepfather interstate.
I still remember the day like it was yesterday about 13 or 14 years ago, I took my wife and Adam he drove my car that day. My wife and I adopt Adam. When I was there, I had a little a hostile attitude from my ex-boss. The ex-boss and his wife have three children. I have always blamed myself that David and Michelle moved interstate. At the time, 2003. I was taking my ex-boss to court; it became very messy. The sad thing about all this is that the ex-boss and his wife were Godparents to all my children. The other sad thing about all this was my Wife had grown up with my ex-boss’s wife they just lived around the corner from each other. I first met my ex-boss when he was 16 years’ old. I now get back to the main story. Again, on the day of the accident, at about 4.30pm on Wednesday the 22nd of January 2003 Michelle was driving south on the Stuart Highway. In the car were her three children, Jade, Rory and Nathaniel. She had just picked up Rory and Jade, who was returning home after visiting their father in Adelaide. Near the Edith River Bridge, her vehicle hit a metal plate on the roadway. The car slid out of control, because of a punctured left rear tyre from the metal plate. The car rolled, the roof striking rocks near the river. It continued toward the river, stopped briefly by a sapling on the riverbank. The current of the river washed the vehicle off the tree and began to carry it downstream. Michelle could not open her door because of the crash damage to the car. She knocked out the driver’s window and reached for her son. Rory, who was beside her. Michelle got out the driver’s side window and held the hands of Rory to get him out between the crushed roof and console. Without warning, the vehicle suddenly went vertical, nose down, and sunk under the water, taking all three children with it. Michelle attempted to dive for the vehicle but could not find it.
The children could not be rescued and subsequently drowned. Their deaths, resulting from an accident, were reported to the Coroner. From the evidence, the Coroner found that there was nothing further that Michelle could have done to save the lives of her children. Her endeavours were desperate and extraordinary. Given the flow of the river, the damage to the vehicle and the depth of the water there was nothing a sole person could have done to get the children out. As I have already said. She took their little boy to pick up her two children from her previous relationship Interstate from Airport. On the way, back to their house, they had to go over a bridge generally no water in the river, but the rains had come early that year. Michelle was heading back towards their house when out of the blue she hit an object on the bridge the car then flipped over into the river on its back. Michelle somehow managed to get out. God only knows how she tried and tried. Michelle could of so easily of drowned her thoughts were only I repeat of her children. Only to somehow, grab at their seatbelts to no Aval try to rescue her three Children and pray to God that they would not drown. When they found Michelle, she could not move they took her to the hospital she was in shock. We now go forward in time I went to their house in 2015 for Christmas. I was there with another worker who came with me. I do not believe in any spirit world. I felt someone touch my right shoulder I think it was a boy. I suspect about fifteen to sixteen-years-old the hand was warm it scares the hell out of me. As soon as that happened, I had to get out of David, s house the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I left straight away with another guy from our company. Ten houses away are the cemetery. At first, I was a little scared to go in. I now go back again in time to the day about fourteen years ago, where they were laid to rest. Their white coffins were all placed on top of each other. I was like a scared little boy what do I do after just what happened? We go forward in time again. The scary thing about it all is they live only about ten houses from the cemetery now. I think it’s their way of finding peace. I slowly entered the cemetery with a fair bit of reservation I could feel the sweat flowing. Down my forehead, with every step I took. I could feel my heartbeat getting louder and louder. I started to shake a little as I approached their grave I knew straight away where they were buried. When finally, I approached their grave site; I saw their pictures on their tombstone I had tears rolling down my face. It was so chilling it started me thinking about the reception. I had just encountered, as I have never believed in ghosts. David and Michelle since the accident has had another two beautiful girls, they are about twelve years old and ten – years – old. David and Michelle now hit the alcohol on the weekends. It is a coping mechanism. David and Michelle also see Doctors and psychiatrist who try to help them cope. In 2016 one of the girls said to David why do you love them more than us? David’s heart was shattered nearly broke in two. Again, the suicide rate is so high when a tragedy like this occurs. Where do you get the strength from? Now they live a few houses away when she has had a few drinks, and everyone has gone to sleep. Michelle goes to the gravesite and lies on top of the grave where they are buried when drunk. During the night when her partner wakes up, he goes looking for her and finds her at the cemetery.
The girls in the last two years said to David. How come you love them more than us? David was in shock he said he felt his heart burst.
I leave it for you to decide. I pray for them. The silence that is life without them. Their death has affected deeply many people who had come to know them over their lives, and even thousands who had not known them. Sleep sweet silent Angels go to sleep. Rest in God's arms. AMEN.
I thought this story was finished, but no David stabbed me in the back after I gave him a job and put him on $35 an hour. With David it was never about friendship it was about stabbing my son and myself in the back as often as he could. I never realised what a loser David was.
It's so sad that you can keep on crying wolf.
Jade Loades, Rory Loades and Nathaniel Rose RIP XXX
http://www.localcourt.nt.gov.au/docs/judgements/2004/ntmc074.html
“Tears are words the mouth can’t say nor can the soul bare” (by) Joshua Wisebaker
(There is a rainbow down every street, and then the sun comes out) (by) R.L. Sherriff
This true story I have Dedicated to My Wife and my six Children and my ten Grandchildren, plus My Two Great Grandchildren R.L. Sherriff
0466240021
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eastendeagle-blog · 5 years
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MARCH
I knew I had to run at that point. I have been in a lot of thrilling situations in my life, but it was never like this. The adrenalin rushing through my body, the level of tensity so incredibly high. Covered in sweat, blood, and pure evil in my mind. It was like I ended up in the most exciting scene of a horror film. I ran far away from the fire in the woods, and as I ran, underneath the green of the northern lights sky, I realized: this is the night I’ve been dreaming of all my life. It was something, I knew, I will not regret. I knew that ever since I can remember. This plan, it all worked out in the end. I felt so much relief and satisfaction, even a little bit of peace.
I had my side buddy, Jussu, coming to pick me up in his blue Audi, his headlights were dimmed. It was parked aside of the many empty roads, as it is at 4 in the morning in Finland. I got in the car and Jussu went full crazy on the gas. He was talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word. I finally did what I wanted to do. I think I ended up in trance. I couldn’t be there in reality. I remember thinking, I didn’t want to wash his blood of off my hands. Oh, this moment is so sacred. His blood is sacred, and I looked at my hands, it’s his blood on my hands made from his blood.  I wanted his blood on my hands, my face, for so many years. I dreamt about it when I was a kid. As Jussu was talking to me, or trying to talk to me on our way to his hidden shack in the woods 15 miles from Kuusamo,  my thoughts were so damn loud that his voice sounded like life on the bottom of the sea. My thoughts were controling everything. I was just thinking, that I just ended a never-ending chapter, but the kind of one that fucking ended. So many dreams I’ve had all my fucking life about doing what I just did to him, how my dream became reality. Finally. How much fun I had while I was doing it, how much I enjoyed making him suffer. It was his deepest karma, and he knew this day was coming because he raised the ‘Devil’s son’, like he always called me. Fuck, I’m just as sick as him, I realized now. But at least I have manners, my mother taught me that. Or what’s left of it. But I destroyed the man who destroyed me, my life, my will to live;  the reason why I hate myself and the reason why I do drugs – the reason why I’ve tried to kill myself for so many times, but couldn’t do it because it made me feel like “I” was the loser in the fucking game, I couldn’t kill myself because my desire to have the ultimate revenge on him stopped me from throwing myself off of a building. And the many rooftop parties I’ve had in New York City, standing on top of the city, how every single time I was there thinking I should throw myself off the edge. But, I never did, because it would make my father win the game.  While in the car with Jussu, I was still going insane. It’s not like you do this to a person every day. But it felt so good. I really needed this and I can’t understand why I’ve never done this before! So pathetic. If I could I would do it all over again, just to relive the moment of seeing his scared dying eyes, the empty look in his face when life hits death and his body runs cold. This was the best day of my fucking life.  How I wonder, would my mother be proud of me or would she hate me now? She hated that man. He’s the reason why she killed herself.  Do we get to discuss this one day, mother?
But this is also a beginning of a whole new (paranoid) chapter. It’s the first thing the very next morning that Jussu was trying to make me clear.  I realized my mind was still not fully ‘there’, far away from recovery, as I was sitting on the couch feeling empty but yet still being ‘there’ in the moment of last night’s activities. But Jussu is a rude son of a bitch and just like many people having patience dealing with my absent schizo mind most of the time, Jussu didn’t have time for that at all. He slapped me in the face a million times to wake me up, screaming at me. For once, I was treated like a normal human being, equally, not the kind of being to be concerned about all the time. However, it kind of helped me to wake up a little. Just the way my father rolled, as he had no time for my mental instability, even though my father struggled with schizophrenia himself.  So… I hope I can keep this in control, feeling mentally instable like this, there’s a possibility I could think Jussu actually IS my father. But please, don’t get too lost in my mind, I thought to myself. And so did Jussu say, as he yelled at me, “you’re gonna do exactly what I’m telling you, and one thing specially; DO NOT GET LOST IN YOUR HEAD”.  Jussu is not the kind of man to fuck with, he’s been in this business for 20 years, a dangerous man with blood on his hands. I have to accept the lines of my new boss. He’s 53 years old, smells awfully, drinks and smokes a lot, looks like Santa Claus. He’s the kind of man you have to get to know better until he becomes nice to you. Sounds like a 53 -years old me. This man, he’s gonna make sure nobody finds out as long as I bring these supplies safely to England. In return I get some stacks to flee. He makes sure I will get away with the situation to continue my life. I have to trust him on that.
It’s one week later now and we have left the country awhile ago. We’ve been traveling from the north of Finland all the way to the south of Germany now. I will not recall the exact locations because I’m dealing with crazy paranoia these days. About that;  it reminds me of how ill I am, in my mind, that in times like these schizophrenia is really trying to kill me. I struggle a lot, but I try to drown the darkness in my mind by drinking vodka all day. But honestly, this is what I get in return, I was aware of that even before the action. I knew I would become very paranoid, I always do when I do ‘such things’.  I had to flee from The Netherlands back in 2012, for the same reason but not as dramatic as this time. I still haven’t gone back to that country, and I still live with a second identity – I got rid off the paranoia for just a bit since that time, I mean life keeps you busy, but it’s always there, and now I’m fleeing again the paranoia and voices hit me like a backlash, like a powerful storm. These days I’m reminded of how sick I am, although I have my tricks to ignore whatever it is that I hear in my mind, but it’s really fucking bad. My life is now separated in two sides; fleeing and trying to continue with my life, making sure that everything ends up fine, literally fighting for my freedom and my peace- but I am also feeling extremely down, suicidal you could say,  because well, they keep screaming at me devastating words, scaring me by making me feel so paranoid, and it really puts me in a terrible mood. Sometimes I feel like crying or whatever. It’s that bad, and I truly mean that because usually I’m very detached and disconnected from my emotional side. But I gotta man-up for now, get through this misery like I did the last time I caused this kind of mayhem. Jussu will keep me distracted until he drops me off at the harbor in France. But we’re not there yet, it’s still a few days to go.
I just hope everything goes well for the upcoming time. I wouldn’t easily hurt a random person this bad, but this was my sweet revenge, I had to do it for myself, to feel emotionally free again, and I like to call it an act of self defense for my emotional progress. It was always him who haunted my mind, knowing he was still there trying to destroy me from a far distance. This is not the solution to kill my past traumas which he caused me, but he did not have the right to continue to live a life where he’s put the sickest marks on people without remorse, without a single ‘sorry’,  a sorry for what he did to me and my mother, ..just until he was about to take his last breath, his wickedness reduced a bit and I could hear him whispering an excuse. I suppose it was too late. I finally had the power over him, and it was the sweetest feeling I’ve ever felt. Oh… how I would love to relive that night over and over again.  I have no regrets at all, and I couldn’t feel more satisfied.
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If I have to explain you why I feel no remorse about what I did to my father, it’s because I don’t see him as my father in the first place. Second, I lack empathy and I don’t even come close to feeling remorse or sorry to most people. But about my father, it’s because he never behaved like a father to me. I didn’t really have a father.  He was just there, all the time, day and night, giving me and my mother nightmares. He was a demon in our house, and has been telling me that there’s a demon inside of him since I was little. He was viciously violent, aggressive, threatening and a danger to his surroundings. He threw knifes around the house, he attacked me or my mother out of the sudden without any warning. Sometimes I think of it as a miracle that I survived my youth with him.  I don’t know what made him do what he did to us, it’s his aggressive nature, which is something I deal with, too, but he couldn’t stop. There were not periods where he was even a little bit nice to me, or trying to behave like a father should.  He was a Satanist, which shouldn’t be a bad thing at all, but he was just very dramatic about it. He saw himself as a “God”, and he taught me to do the same. He was addicted to alcohol, cocaine and heroin, never sober,  and he forced me to take these kind of drugs when I was a child (except heroin, that happened in my teens).  But he did taught me how to prepare and inject heroin in his veins when I was 6 years old, and when my mother would interfere in the situation, he would beat her up right in front of me until she lies unconsciously on the ground.  My father was not really a big guy, he always reminded me of a skinny Peter Steele type of man, the long black hair, the metal -look,  the angry look in his eyes. And even though he was not really physically big, he was very strong once his anger was triggered;  probably caused by a combination of adrenaline and cocaine. Whatever my mother and I did in situations like that, which happened almost every day, we couldn’t fight him. We couldn’t stop him.  My mother and I, we had no rights. We had to listen to my father, as we were his slaves. He raped us. He abused us. He stabbed me in the back when I was 17 years old when I was trying to escape from home during the night, as I was climbing out of my window, he stabbed me once in the back and I fell out of the window down on the ground –   I’ve been in the hospital several times because of his acts. He always told me how he wanted to kill my mother, how he planned it all out, and after he killed her he would kill me.   It was funny, because on the night I was with him a few weeks ago, to make him suffer,  I looked around his house and saw papers full with a plan to kill me, papers and documents that went on for years. He never had the possibility to do so.  But back in the old days, there was no chance for me and my mother, he tortured us for such a long time.  I never wanted to take my friends to my home to hang out because I was ashamed of the whole situation, like my father saying crazy stuff, and the entire house covered with drug marks, sometimes blood on the walls because of all the abuse and what not.  My father always said to me right before I left the house to go to school, that I should be home right after school to do heroin with him,  and if I didn’t listen to him he would rape me. So, that’s how I got addicted to that stuff, but sometimes I couldn’t show up right after school, and I would receive the backlash during night. It was so fucking awful. It happened for years and years, over and over again. It made me sick. And I was dealing with crazy mental issues in my head, I went fully insane.
I’ve been dreaming about killing my father ever since I was a kid, because he was the demon in our house. I wrote songs about it, made paintings about it. All of my crazy fantasies lead to killing him. It started when he drowned my dog when I was a child, in the lake near our house in Finland. When I got home from school and I was looking for my dog everywhere around the house. Scooby, it was a miniature bull terrier, I got him for my birthday and it was the only thing that brought me happiness. Because my mother was always busy with my little brother Jesse, who was a baby back then, and I felt like she didn’t care about me anymore so Scooby became my best friend. And as I walked miles in the woods to find him, looked about 10 times in the shed, but only to find him lying dead in the lake, drowned, and my father was the one to blame for. He was standing right next on the land with that stupid smirk on his face that he always had whenever he did something evil. Something crazy.  “That annoying bark is gone now, it’s gonna be you and me now”, I remember him saying. It was so fucking traumatic. It must have been one of my first childhood traumas.  My father, he was a sadist, a sociopath, like a narcissist, a PSYCHOPATH, he liked to play with fire, with lives. He didn’t feel empathy, or emotion at all, just evilness and anger.
But just like my dog, he had been trying to drown me, too, while on a vacation to Finland when I was 15.  He drugged me, I don’t know what he put in my drinks but it made me very dizzy. I don’t remember it clearly because I was out of this world, but I do remember him pushing my head under water in the lake, while he was screaming at me to die, he kept pushing me deeper and deeper under water, and eventually it was my uncle Anton who saved my life that time. He yelled at my father to quit that shit.  And for some reason, my father doesn’t listen to anyone except for his own brothers.  I don’t really remember what happened right after that.  It’s not the first time he tried to kill me. During my teens, we lived in The Netherlands, where we had a dark basement where he did all his Satanic rituals, soul offering, prayers to the Devil, he dragged my mother and I into the whole Satanism thing. I consider myself a Satanist, but as a normal Satanist, I’m not an obsessed freak about it like my father was. While my mother was Jewish, it was especially her my father wanted to make her a Satanist and make her tell it to her family.  The basement was very well isolated, you couldn’t hear a thing what was going downstairs in the basement when you were standing in the living room. My neighbors, they had no idea. They did know about my father, he was the notorious Satanist of the entire town, but they didn’t know what was really going on inside of the house. In that basement, he sexually abused me, at least once a week, as a punishment.  I wasn’t a good person myself,  and I refused to listen to him sometimes. He just wanted control over me and my mother with his stupid demands.  I’m really trying to accept what happened, and for a greater part in my life I couldn’t talk about what happened in my past, but writing really helps.  It’s just the sexual abuse part in my life that I still find very difficult to open up about.  It pains me, still, even when I’m writing about it. And I still dream and see flashbacks about it very often that it completely paralyzes me to the bone. Whenever he dragged me down to the basement and started to rape me, to own me and control me, because that was his purpose, not because he was gay,  it was so painful and as I was crying and screaming, he made it even worse. He yelled at me the kind of things,  “I’m gonna rape ‘til death if you don’t shut your mouth”.  He taped my mouth sometimes.  It was very frightening because every time it happened I thought I was going to die, and sometimes, I just surrendered and let it happen, just wanting to die.
  I’m in England now.  I have arrived in Dover about 5 days ago. I still had the supplies with me, luckily, and everything went well. But what a terrible experience it was on the boat on my way to England. Fucking Hell. I went crazy. I was so scared the police were following me, and I constantly looked behind my back, I do so ever since I left Finland. I became so insanely paranoid to the point I became delusional when I literally saw a police man running up to me with a gun in his hand,  screaming at me,  I just fainted.  It just went black for my eyes, I realized the voices stopped whispering, too. I woke up with a middle aged woman by my side, a British woman. She told me that I fainted and fell down on the ground, she was thinking I might be seasick so she offered me aspirin and I was all confused.  I had no idea what I was saying but it was not properly English, or Finnish,  I couldn’t get my speech in order.  She found out that I was mentally confused and I had to spend the rest of my boat trip at the doctor where I refused to speak because I was dealing with illegality and crazy mental issues at the time.  I didn’t want people around me at all.  
I was happy to leave the boat where my friend Jaimy was there to pick me up. I know Jaimy from the same business but I met him in high school back in The Netherlands. We haven’t seen each other in years.  We were in a fight because we both did something to a certain person, and I had to flee and so did he, and he refused to talk to me so I got pissed at him.  I was not happy when he contacted me again after so many years, after everything that happened. But I had to go somewhere, and since he has a place in London now and takes part of the same business I ended up in now,  he is the safest person to be with now.  He picked me up at Dover harbor, as he was all excited to see me and acted all cool around me,  I went really quiet. I wanted to talk but I still had to deal with the voices in my head that made my mind a chaos which causes me to speak pretty much disorganized and everything, it wouldn’t make any sense. I remember thinking, it’s better to keep my mouth shut.  I heard 3 voices at the same time, 2 alien figures and Jaimy talking, in Dutch as well which made it even more confusing,  so I just had to open the window and have some fresh air.  I heard Jaimy saying,  “dude, are you okay?”  I saved all my energy to make my speech work as I turned to him and said, “no offense but can you shut your mouth for one second?”  I really felt sick in my mind. He kept his mouth shut for the next hour until we arrived at his place.   We went inside and he offered me some booze. Hell yeah, did I need that shit.  Alcohol makes me function properly, and I’m glad Jaimy still remembered.  After a few drinks I started to talk more, voices were still there but I could concentrate on my own words again.  Jaimy noticed how I’ve went through stuff the past few weeks, it’s something you can easily notice -  I lose weight, I have this scared, paranoid look in my eyes with a layer of bags underneath my eyes, I become twice as pale as usual. And especially my behavior tells everything.  “I’m going to fix you, mate” he told me. He offered me some more booze.  It was a good night.
The third day in London, I became very stressed and paranoid about everything again.  I woke up during the night, suddenly, thinking
This shit doesn’t feel right. Why Jaimy of all the people?  He must have something to do with this all.  He has not spoken to me in years and out of nowhere he comes back in my life.  Maybe he’s with the cops, maybe he’s my rivalry.  
I tried to go back to sleep but these thoughts kept me wide awake.  It became even worse.              
What if he is trying to kill me?  Maybe Jussu is my rivalry too, maybe every single person I spoke along the way is against me and trying to kill me. Fucking Hell, I need to get out of here before they have their revenge.
 I got out of bed and was looking around the house for weapons that Jaimy might have hidden for me.  I went to get a knife to defend myself, as I was walking to Jaimy sleeping in his bed. I woke him up and he jumped. “Calm down, man”, he said.  I told him about the realization I just had. Thinking this is just an odd and suspicious situation.  He tried to talk me out of it and I no longer had the knife in my hand. But in return, I wanted to look through his phone to see if he didn’t have any deals with people from the business about trying to kill me.  He told me to just relax and go back to sleep. As I replied that maybe he should just listen to me now, in situations like these.  That if he will not listen to what I demand, I’m going to be in the mood to kill him anyway. I need proof.   So, I got his phone and went searching for an hour. All I found out was how many bitches Jaimy has and that he’s addicted to gambling games. A few texts with people from the business but he never mentioned my name.  Sure, I apologized.
Situations like these happened for another few times but Jaimy fixed Xanax for me to help my anxiety go away, my paranoia for just a bit. I still hear voices but when I’m on Xanax they don’t really get to me.  The fourth day in England I finished the deal, as I got stacks in return. It was a scary moment but yet very exciting, and I realized how much I missed the thrill of being in this business. At least I have some money with me now, but not enough to rent an apartment in New York City or Los Angeles- I suppose only for six months or so. But I need to continue to be part of this business for a while, to make some more stacks. I’m familiar with some of the people here.  I know I can really get into this stuff again.  In a way, I’m just like my father but with the unnecessary violence. I do like violence, but only to those who deserve it, who damage me and betray me. But now I have shaken him off my back, I feel like not only my life is going to change ; I feel myself slightly change.  But I’m always changing, always going places.  Eventually, I got rid off the biggest bug in my life,  my father. That’s all that matters to me now.
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fangirlingisajob · 7 years
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The Little Barnes and the Spiderling | Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Shoutout to google translate for the Russian words (if you are Russian or speak it, I apologize because google translate is not accurate, at all).  Малютка translates to “little one”, Папа means “papa (or dad)”,да папа means “yes papa”,друг means “lover (or crush)”,Заткнись! Он не мой любовник means “Shut up! He isn’t my lover”, and что вы говорите roughly means “whatever you say”. Hope you all enjoy!
warnings: rude girls, kidnapping, flustered and cute peter parker (not sure if that is warning but)
Two weeks.  You waited for two weeks for your dad to come home from his mission, and today was the day.  Finally, you could see him after being reunited with him a few months ago.
You sat on the bar stool, tapping your blue pencil as you anxiously waited for your dad’s arrival.  “Anytime now, anytime now,” you thought to yourself.
“You know, the more you tap your pencil the more-”
“Just shut it Tony,” you snapped, “I just want to see my dad and I-I don’t need any of your sarcastic remarks right now.” Tony walked away as you turned your back towards the door.
“Малютка?” a familiar voice asked.
“Папа!” you yelled as you fled from the stool and tossed yourself into your dad’s arms.  You both stayed there until Steve spoke up.  
“Buck, you should go get cleaned up for movie night.”  
You let go of your dad and smiled before picking up the pencil you were tapping before and retreating to your room.
------- “Okay, use the move we just went over, okay?” Sam said as you impatiently tapped your foot on the floor.  
You smirked to yourself realizing you weren’t going to use what Sam had taught you.  “Yup, I got it.  Punch left, duck, kick to the chest and flip.”
“Perfect, now let’s give it a go.”  
Instead of punching you kicked first, then followed through with what Nat had previously taught you.  “Kick, punch, duck, trip, kick again, and flip,” you recited in your head as you proceeded.  
“No, what are you doi-holy shit you’re going to kill me one day.” Sam groaned as he rolled over on the blue mat of the training room.
“It’s not my fault I’m 15 and can kick your ass.” you giggled.  “Well, I’m going to go before I can possibly hurt you in any other ways.” you laughed as he sighed.
You walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, thinking about what you would make for lunch.  It had to be something nutritious, especially after your hard training with Sam.
“Hello? A-Anyone here?” you heard an unfamiliar boy’s voice ask.
Pausing for a moment, you wondered who was intruding but were shocked to see a boy from your school standing in the middle of the kitchen. He stood timidly, with the Spiderman suit in his left hand and his other hand in a tight fist.
“Peter, right?” you asked cautiously, watching the boy’s foot tap nervously on the marble floor.
“Oh-uh. Yeah! Uh- hi, Y/n.” He let out a small laugh and cleared his throat.
You glanced at the suit in his hands and smirked.  “Ah, so you are the crime fighting Spiderling.”
“What? No-no this is just a suit that-” he sighed.  “Fine, okay. It’s me. Do you know where Mr. Stark is?” he asked as his face turned a bright crimson shade.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “Follow me.”  You walked at a faster pace than normal as you led Peter down the black tile floors.  It was silent except for the light thuds of the footsteps on the cold floor.
“So, I’m guessing your last name comes from Bucky Barnes then?” Peter asked as he followed you down the corridor, breaking the silence.  
“Yup, I always tell people it’s not but, since I know your Spiderman I guess you can keep my secret too.” you smiled.  
“We have a few of the same classes right?”
“Yeah. I think we have art, history and a few others.” you stated.
““Малютка?” Bucky called out. You looked at Peter and saw his nervous glare toward your dad.  Even you could feel Peter’s fear of your dad in the atmosphere as he entered the room.  Sighing, you turned to your dad’s direction, wondering what he needed from you.
 “да папа?” you asked back, excusing yourself from Peter while lightly jogging to your father’s side across the room.
“Who is that?” Bucky questioned with a stern tone.
“Oh, he’s Peter, Tony sent him over.  He is Spider-”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh, okay then.  I’ll see you later папа,” you replied before jogging back to Peter’s side. “Sorry, my dad always likes to know everything,” you nervously laughed, “I guess he was always taught that.”
The rest of the walk was in silence after your comment.  The walls of the hallway seemed never ending from the awkward silence.  You felt your heart beating a mile-a-minute and assumed Peter could hear it too.  
“Well here is the lab.  I’ll, uh, see you around sometime, Peter.”  
“Yup, uh, definitely. Yeah, I’ll see you around too.  Nice talking with you, Y/n.”
You stifled a small giggle at how awkward he was before walking back to the kitchen.  “I mean, I guess Peter Parker is kinda cute,” you thought to yourself.
----------  
“Miss Barnes, Mr. Parker is coming up the elevator.” F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted you.  You jumped off your bed and ran to the kitchen, just like every other week day when Peter came to see Tony after school.  
“Oooo someone is waiting for her друг,” Natasha said with a smug grin.  You and Nat always spoke in Russian since, after all, she did teach you the language.
“Заткнись! Он не мой любовник,” you retorted.
“что вы говорите, ” Nat remarked before leaving the room.
The elevator dinged, indicating that Peter was here. “Okay Y/n, stay cool.”
“Hey, Y/n!” Peter said as he walked towards you.
“Hi, Peter.”  
“So, um how was your day?” he stuttered as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Um it was pretty good. I mean, besides getting picked on by the popular girls at lunch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about it.”
“It’s okay don’t worry. I mean I could probably kill them seven different ways with my elbow, but I wouldn’t want to do that,” you joked and the two of you laughed at the comment.
“Hey, maybe Ned and I could sit with you at lunch since I-I noticed that you were alone.  And our schedules are really similar tomorrow, so it could be fun to hang out at school for once.”
“Yeah I would really enjoy that,” you replied, fidgeting with your hands.
“Okay! Well, I-I gotta go but I’ll see you tomorrow in history,” he said with a smile as his awkwardness faded, confidence overcoming him.
-----
The whole morning, you and Peter either gossiped about the popular girls or watched videos of Spiderman fighting. You were honestly quite sad when you had a full period without Peter before lunch.
You sat down in your regular seat for English, preparing for a long class.
“Alright everyone, since I have decided to be nice and I still need to grade your tests so, you all can have a free period.  Just don’t get too loud.” Everyone gathered with their friends but you stayed in the back of the room where you could peacefully draw.
You began to sketch out Peter with his favorite hoodie on, well ,his favorite hoodie that you stole from him.  
“Awww! Are you sketching your boyfriend?” a voice remarked.  The piercing blue eyes of the girl stared you down, giving you time to notice how much mascara was clumped onto her eye lashes.
“W-What?” you stammered as you layed down your pencil next to your notebook.
“You know, Peter?  You two have been hanging out all morning.”  Myah, one of those evil popular girls, spoke up.  All 5 of the snotty girls stared you down, waiting for your reply.
“No, Peter isn’t my boyfriend.  You really shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”
“So, now we aren’t allowed to speak our minds? What kind of shit are you thinking about?  You’re probably lying about your last name, too. She probably is the daughter of the killer Winter Soldier,” Bailey scoffed as she and her friends turned around and proceeded to talk about how horrible your dad is.  
“Man, I can’t wait until that bell rings.” you thought to yourself as you slouched in your seat.
-----------
“Hey,” Peter said as he slid down across from you at the empty lunch table.  “What’s wrong?” he questioned as he noticed your odd mood, “Did something happen in English?”
“No, I’m fine Peter.”
“Y/n, I see you everyday and I know when something is up.”
You blinked and grabbed your stuff. “I-I-I have to go,”  you said as you ran out of the cafeteria.
“Y/n! Wait up!” Peter yelled as you continued to run away, becoming farther and farther away from him.
You felt a cold chill once you stepped outside the big doors to the entrance of Midtown High.  You continued to run for several feet as Peter continued to call out your name.  Suddenly, panic washed over you as you saw a man in all black coming towards you with a black sack and a large needle.  You took a few steps back, fearing what the man’s intentions were to you.  He harshly grabbed your arms and spat in your face.
“I think you ought to come with us, Y/n Barnes,” the man threatened before sticking a needle into your arm, causing you to pass out.
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