#or maybe I'll just like. Bleach the bottom half of my hair

[watery-melon-baller]

the hair bleach calls out to me

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Star is getting better, Sam is getting a friend, Stephen is a Sad White Boy™. A layover chapter. I'm not very happy with how this turned out but hey, it's an update and its still pandemi-lovato outside, we gotta be gentle on ourselves. PA turned out to be way more serious than I planned it to be anyways and I think that's very yeehaw of me to expand my writing from the usual almost-crackfics that I write. Love you all 3000.

Days stretched like a piece of chewed up gum, bleeding into one another at a snail's pace, one dull grey NYC afternoon after the other. The hospital wing I was forced to camp out in Tony's tower was top notch but everything, starting from the constant beeping to the sharp, chemical smells, irritated me, and what little strength I had to communicate was mostly spent on listening to Sam's tall tales.

Odette had stopped by shortly after the first wave of weakness had set in; no, I didn't dramatically faint or suddenly develop third stage cancer, I simply turned into a near-catatonic vegetable, devoid of any emotion or will to exist. My bones were like Jell-o, my thoughts - sluggish, sparse clouds that rarely swam in the grey plains of my overtired mind.

My boss was fussing over me for hours, I heard faint echoes of her and Stephen's argumentative conversations before she flipped out and shut the door to my hospital room, strong aromas of incense and smoke briefly overshadowing the bleach and plastic stench every hospital seemed to have. I

I became mostly coherent after her ministrations; enough to see the dark circles under her eyes and the ghastly tone of her skin. More often than not, I couldn't even properly focus my vision, things like using the bathroom and eating three times a day were the worst chores I'd ever had to do.

My body was trying to convince me to wither away, to simply allow the vessel for my spirit to become one with the Earth once more. I had no energy to process what had happened on the foreign planet; when I slept, I didn't dream, I didn't have nightmares, time just flowed like a fast, untamed river, my weary body drifting along the calmer streams of the shoreline and occasionally bumping into a stone of daily routine.

My stubbornness, however, was an inherent part of me. I had considered, many times, simply giving up; the voices in my head whispered at me their poisonous ideas. It would be so easy, to fall asleep and never wake up. They baited me with the promises of afterlife, of golden halls and spaces full of light and warmth.

Sam had started spending a lot of time at my bedside absolutely unprompted; sometimes, he'd hold my hand, gentle, tender fingers drawing senseless squiggles on the inside of my palm. Faint echoes of his aura told me he was worried for me, but also grateful for what I did for Stephen and angry at someone. I tried not to think about the last part: I could sense their pity and their unease every time one of his teammates stopped by my hospital room.

A healthy-looking young woman spending most of her days blankly staring at the wall wasn't a picture-postcard view. Sam wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, and when I finally clawed my way out of the dredges to be able to answer questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', he promptly lit up, speaking to me in a happy tone that almost wasn't forced.

Tony stopped by, too, usually late in the evening, when he thought I and everyone else was asleep. He sat next to me, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on my face for twenty, thirty minutes at a time before he'd stroke my hair or run a hot, calloused palm over my arm, and then took his leave, slow, shuffling footsteps quietly receding into the hallways. I really didn't know what to think about Tony, he had always been quite quirky, but his gestures were... Nice.

Stephen... Him, his actions, I understood the least. He had argued with Tony, argued with Odette and I was sure I heard him and the Black Widow scream at each other during lunch time. Sometimes I thought I heard his voice, at night, the darkness behind my eyelids suddenly bursting with golden sparks and green bokeh but when I finally mustered up the strength to open my eyes, the empty, white walls were all that greeted me.

Stephen never stopped by, I rarely heard his voice outside of my room and almost always it was one bickering or another, mostly with Sam muttering a few choice words as he noisily sat down on the chair next to me. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me. Near-death experiences tended to leave a strong imprint on the human mind and whether Stephen liked it or not, we were connected for life.

"Then Steve, the dumbass, just jumps out of the plane. No chute, no warning," Sam's voice, drifting between fond and annoyed, snapped me out of my stupor. "Robot-brain curses, yells at his boyfriend like he can hear him and just... Does the same fucking thing," the exasperation made a tiny spark of mirth settle in me. I flexed my fingers despite the dull ache, gripping Sam's fingers in my palm. I didn't need to see him to know he immediately perked up. "Meanwhile I'm standing there with my wings, trying to figure out where in life did I take the wrong turn to end up with these two idiots."

"You should get them," I swallowed, my throat dry, my vocal cords tense from the lack of use. "One of those... Backpack leashes," the words were a battle to get out, it was a fight with a brick wall to force my brain to string sounds into a sentence, but I persisted.

"Should I say 'welcome back'?" Sam's optimism is cautious.

"Gettin' there," I forced my eyes to meet his, to see the life bustling in him. To feel alive, even by proxy.

"I should get Strange here, he's been running himself ragged these days, tryin' to figure out how to bring you back," Sam's free hand scrambled for his cell as I struggled to raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I was as surprised as you were, Tony barely gets the wizard to sleep and eat."

Faint pangs of shame wormed into my headspace, for assuming the worst when I knew that his façade of vitriol and sarcasm was just that - a wall to protect himself. My rediscovery of the ability to feel, even if it was gooey shame, grounded me in this plane of existence, forcing me to face reality and return to it.

"I feel like shit," for once in my life, I allowed myself to openly, publicly complain about my state of being.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," Sam's tone was refreshingly teasing. "Odette and Strange explained what you did. Well, sort of," the man scratched his chin. "I understood about half of it, really, but what matters is that you were badass as fuck!"

I struggled to hold onto that sense of being present. "Well, it wasn't my choice," I felt the need to state the fact. "I'm a conductor, of sorts."

Sam's eyebrows rose, both of his hands encompassing my lax palm. "Wizard-man said you consciously directed the energies, or whatever."

I felt the tiniest laugh bubble up from the bottom of my throat, my dry, chapped lips stretched on their own accord. "Because it tickled and itched. It was annoying," I belatedly suspected that there was something... Off, about my explanation.

Sam's gaping expression, exasperated disbelief, put me on edge. "You thought that radioactive ash tickles and severe nerve damage itches?" His head shook from side to side, as if he was trying to get rid of a persistent mosquito.

"Um," I had the decency to look away. "I didn't know it was radioactive," I meekly supplied as the door to my hospital room all but flew open.

Stephen looked - not much better than me, if I had to guess, with the exception of a highly anxious face instead of the (probably) dead inside high school drama club goth that I looked like. The Cape billowed behind him despite a lack of any wind, wiggling as my eyes widened in response to the fabric moving on its own.

"You're okay," Stephen's baritone had me snapping up to meet his stormy eyes with a speed I wasn't aware I possessed at this stage of my recovery. The sorcerer stood silently, eyeing me in turn.

"I'll go get some coffee," Sam delicately interjected, giving my hand a brief squeeze and all but running out the door.

"Radioactive?" I repeated the question that bothered me the most. Shock seized my chest as I fully faced the implications of our impromptu adventure, but I welcomed the acrid sensations, desperate to feel anything at all.

"Yes," the sorcerer took a few long, hurried strides before crashing into the chair. "I didn't notice at first, but then you grabbed my hand and," a jerky inhale followed the confession. "I felt the healing burn, I felt how your body rejected the particles," his speech stuttered. Slender, gloved fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'd be dead in an hour, maybe, if not for..."

I was equally at a loss for words, it seemed. "Weren't we... Harmful to others when we..?" I struggled to form my thoughts.

"You burnt it all off," Stephen replied curtly, puzzled. "Your whole being rejected everything that came from that wretched place. Tony insisted we run tests, do scans. Neither of us have even residual radiation from past x-rays," Stephen's fingers twitched. "But that's not all."

"Your hands?" I offered, remembering some of Sam's words.

A sharp inhale coming from the sorcerer answered my question, if not in detail, and the man himself hesitated to reply for a reason I did not know. I didn't undo the damage, this much I knew was true. He swallowed loudly, eyes firmly planted on the wall opposite me. "They do not hurt anymore," the words were barely louder than a whisper.

I chewed on my lip, slowly, idly, letting Stephen process whatever bothered him that much. He should have been happy, or so I thought, that there was one less thing in this world that had the potential of giving him a headache. "Good," I simply replied, attempting to shrug.

"No, you don't understand," he suddenly lifted his eyes, staring at me hotly. "You did so at the expense of your own life, your lifespan, you energy, your ability to have child-"

I stopped his rant, lifting up one shaky, and my feeble gesture instantly made the tired, broken man deflate into someone that reeked of shame and regret. His shoulders dropped, head briefly touching the side of my bed. For all purposes, I nearly acquired a lapful of kicked puppy Stephen.

Mustering up my very last dregs of energy, I scoffed in his direction: "Don't fucking tell me what to do, wizard," before the familiar weight of apathy began taking over me again. One sluggish thought after the other, I came to a conclusion that he was experiencing a sort of survivor's guilt, except I didn't die.

Or maybe I did? Maybe I'd left some unknown, invisible part of me on the irradiated plains of a foreign world, coming home as a shell of my former self. To their eyes, at least, it could have looked the part; not too long after Stephen's departure, I mustered up the strength and the courage to look into a mirror, to properly see the damage I'd done to myself.

An ashen undertone to my skin, my eyes had sunken deeply into my surprisingly angular face. I had the look of a person who'd survived famine and torture, at least. I appeared to be as dull and disgusting as I felt. For what felt the first time in ages, I carefully, slowly ran myself a hot bath with some of the fancy toiletries placed in the bathroom, because of course Tony would have a full size bath in a hospital room, the steaming, herbal-smelling liquid almost instantaneously giving a boost to my blood flow and speeding up the living energies within my exhausted form.

Sam was waiting for me when I stepped out heated and pruney, a lopsided tilt to his lips and the mouthwatering smell of coffee gathering saliva in my mouth for the first time in days.

"Stephen needs to see a fucking therapist," I grouched, sitting down on the bed, bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe.

Wilson's responding eyeroll was pure reflex. "They all do," he reached out for his thermos, having noticed me eyeing it. A paper cup was promptly filled and given to me. "I can recommend a few, by the way. That specialise in unusual circumstances," he eyed me with kindness, gesturing towards the hospital room with a wide wave of his hand.

I chewed on my lip. "I don't think it will help much, at least right now, since all my hurts are- eh, magical," I shrugged. "I gotta figure out how to stop my limbs from feeling like cooked spaghetti noodles first." The coffee tasted like the usual hospital sludge but somehow, after being devoid of all feeling, it was the single best thing I've had in the past week.

"Seems like a solid plan," Sam agreed. "Your boss is a scary lady, by the way. And I mean it respectfully."

The corners of my mouth tilted up. "Yeah, but she's also very experienced and very kind. She knows her stuff."

Sam quickly looked to the side and as I followed the direction of his stare, i spied a pile of empty Tupperware boxes, causing me to lift an eyebrow at the suddenly bashful man.

"What?" He tried for indignant but it came out as a squeak. "I'm a man, god dammit! I am given free food, I take the free food!"

The realization set in. "She's feeding you now? Did you hit on my boss to get food, Sam?" I wagged my fingers, enjoying the face expressions the man was making, probably, a little more than I should. He looked like a right bird when disgruntled, all puffed up and glaring.

"No!" He almost shrieked. "She cornered me, said I was doing God's work by sitting and talking to you! She just started bringing those... Casseroles, every time she stopped by," the agitation in his voice was quite funny to me. "Not like it's a chore, I actually like the peace and quiet. You've been the best listener I've had in the past year," Sam's grin grew more genuine. "And I don't have to see RoboCop's mug all day or listen to someone argue over the best pasta shape."

"Your house sounds like a nightmare," I supplied conversationally, remembering my own peculiar place and the set of rules and- SHIT, I belatedly realized, someone might went to my apartment to get my stuff and gotten in trouble. "Sam, who went to my place to get my stuff?" I asked, trying to force down the bubbling unease.

"Some lady stopped by, I think her name was also Sam?" He quietly questioned. "Had two kids with her, the boy kept staring at me like I'd stolen his lunch money," the man finished off his coffee, gathering the trash and noisily throwing it in the bin.

"Yeah, that's my neighbor. And Armin is a cool little dude, he's just very shy," I offered absent-mindedly, inwardly breathing a massive sigh of relief.

"He looks like the boy from 'I see dead people' movie," Sam deadpanned, opening a large drawer and extracting my gym bag from it. "I'll leave you to get dressed," we nodded to each other before Sam left the room, phone to his ear and a relaxed atmosphere around his whole being radiating warmth and contentment. That was a nice change from the tense, grim atmosphere of the days past. I could get used to it, could re-learn how to let myself feel like a living being again.

I was eager to return home; stepping in through the portal, my living room greeted me exactly the way I left it the day I went to work, a few books scattered on the couch, my fleece blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Stephen hovered behind me as I set my bag down on the table, immediately surveying the state of my plants and my altar.

"Do you need, um, help with anything?" He was fidgeting, all but vibrating behind me.

Apparently, Sam had talked some sense into the wizard because he stopped by a few times since that day, for a short small-talk or a cup of coffee, the kicked puppy look back on full display.

I told Sam off, of course, saying that I was an adult and so was Strange, but something in his knee-jerk reaction told me that he was so used to playing referee, it didn't even register with him that I might be able to handle my own business. I told Sam that much, taking his hand in me: I wanted a friend, not a parent, not a therapist. It went pretty smoothly.

"No, not really," I figured I could water my own plants and vacuum my own floors. My phone buzzed at that moment, a number saved in my phone as "Tony 😎" coming through with an absolutely outrageous message.

"I'm bringing pizza in 20. You better have Netflix. Tell Dumbledore to pick up his phone."

I promptly thrust the phone in Stephen's face, who instantly developed an equally annoyed and fond expression, as he searched the numerous pockets of his robe for the sleek, light StarkPhone. "Resistance is futile," he sighed, sitting down on the couch as I went to change into something fresh and water my plants while Stephen flicked through my Netflix. I heard him mutter to himself: "Grey's anatomy? Sixth season? Oh my God," with the tone of a man tortured.

"I had a roomie in college who majored in Medical History," I snorted. "When she had a bad day, she'd absolutely pick apart every single thing in the show. From the doctor's misconduct to the way a surgeon was holding the scalpel," I explained, seeing Stephen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "She was absolutely vicious and it was the most hilarious thing."

The sorcerer stroked his chin, leaning back into the couch. "That's acceptable. All medical shows are rubbish," he stated firmly. His phone beeped, causing him to sigh and conjure up a portal within seconds, in the corner of my apartment I had aptly designated to be the landing pad to myself. Tony stepped in, a bottle of wine and three steaming pizza boxes in hand. Smiling at his boyfriend, Stephen turned to me with a curious look: "What did you major in?"

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @secretly-a-weeb @stuckybarton

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

I lost my dick 🍆

Mod Sun x Fenix (ftm character)

Warnings: light smut, swearing, mentions of ice dick.

**I almost named myself Fenix when I came out as ftm in high school, I found it cool that Fenix is the name of a character in Downfalls High**

Fenix was frantically searching across every possible space in his boyfriend's house that he could have possibly left his packer. Being neuro divergent and a trans male made for interesting times and weird phrases. "For fucks sake! Where the hell did I leave it this time?" He half growled; looking up when he felt Derek's hands on his shoulders. "What?"

"Take a breath and chill out for a second" Derek ran his hands over Fenix's shoulders lightly and brought his boyfriend into a hug. "What did you loose this time?" He asked softly; carding a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

Swallowing his pride; Fenix shook his head, hiding it in Derek's hoodie. "I lost my dick" he mumbled quietly; slipping his arms around the taller man's neck.

The fact that his boyfriend is transgender excaped his mind, so the sentence caught him of guard "how...what...huh?" His brows furrowed in thought as he tipped Fenix's head up. "How in the hell..." Derek hesitated; "are you high?"

Fenix punched Derek's shoulder lightly; rolling his eyes and grinning. "Not high just trans" he teased; kissing his boyfriend's cheek. "I really don't know where I left it this time" Fenix rarely broke composure enough to ask Derek; asking his boyfriend was a last ditch effort.

"Oh right, you're not cis" Derek smiled as Fenix punched at his shoulder. "Of course you don't" he kissed the man's forehead and thought for a moment. "Did you look in the freezer? You've found it there before." Derek's hand grazed over the small of Fenix's back.

Hanging his head; Fenix sighed and shook his head. "Don't remind me; I still don't know how that happened." He blushed before slipping out of Derek's arms. "But yes, I did check the freezer" even then there was a good chance he probably looked right at it and missed it.

Colson was over at Mod's working on a few songs with his friend when he made a bee line to the freezer after a popsicle. "For God's sake" he said when he looked up; met with a very realistic but silicone looking dick. "Fenix, think I found your dick, buddie" Colson ruffled a hand through his own unruly bleach blonde hair.

Looking up from the piece he was working on; Fenix blinked a few times, his tongue in his cheek as he let go of a defeated groan. "You probably did, I kind of lost it." He mumbled, looking at the rapper. "At least I know where it is now"

Hearing what Colson said; Derek chuckled and smiled. "That seems to be a regular thing now, isn't the first time." He texted out a message to Fenix reading 'leave it, might be of use later 💦'

"Somehow I believe you Mod" Colson shrugged and got himself a blue raspberry popsicle and Mod a green one, he needed a sugar fix and this would have to suffice.

Reading the text his boyfriend sent him; Fenix's eyes drew up towards his boyfriend. Raising an eyebrow; he shook his head flipping Derek the bird. "Maybe, depending on time that is" Fenix grinned as he jumped from the stool he was sat on and went over to Derek. "You dirty little fucker" he mumbled into the man's ear as he ran his hands into Derek's hair.

"Trust when I say I'll make time" Derek hummed; slipping a hand into the back pocket of Fenix's jeans. "Not my fault it feels good taking it up the ass." He mumbled into a kiss and squeezed his boyfriend's ass. "May as well take advantage of the unconventional idea"

Coming back In after a successful day in the studio; Derek smiled as he found Fenix on the couch focused on an episode of 'Shameless'. "Hey" he mumbled; slipping his arms around Fenix's neck from behind.

"Hey Der" he nuzzled close to Derek's arm. "What's up?" Fenix kissed Derek's wrist and looked up at his boyfriend. Pausing the show in the process.

"Mm a little horny" Derek's hand wrapped around his boyfriend's throat as he kissed Fenix. "Mind taking the top tonight?" He asked; nipping at the man's lip.

Mumbling something under his breath; Fenix hummed as Derek's grip tighted a little. "Not at all, baby" he kissed back and cupped the back of Derek's head. "Bedroom" Fenix caught a breath once Derek let go and bit his lip.

He nodded and let go of a breath as Fenix looked at him; the man's blue eyes dark in contrast to usual. Derek had found himself being more comfortable lately with not being as in control and reveled in how Fenix was able to make him love being submissive.

Letting the cold metal ball of his tongue ring dip into Derek's belly button; Fenix grinned as Derek was already writhing under him from being teased. "Barely touched you and you're a sweet mess already, baby"

"C'mere" Derek half whined; kissing Fenix lightly and humming into it as the man looked at him. "Do us both the favour and please fuck me" he mumbled into another kiss and squeezed at Fenix's shoulders as his (Derek's) boyfriend eased into him gently.

Biting back a blush; Fenix had the instinct to hide in his boyfriend's neck as Derek let out a sound between a moan and a hiss.

"No, no, you're not hiding" Derek spoke between a moan and a shiver. "Look at me, right here" he pulled his boyfriend's head back up and grinned as Fenix's cheeks were pink with a blush. "I don't care, you know it's of no difference to me, I love you and can't get enough of how you make me feel"

Feeling Derek's hand return to his neck; fenix nodded and kissed his boyfriend. "I know that" he mumbled and ended up somewhat laughing when Derek effortlessly rocked his hips and pulled him (Fenix) forward. Taking it as a cue to move; Fenix rolled his hips slowly.

Arching his hips; Derek bit his lip letting himself relax and focus on both the cold and the gentle rocking of Fenix's hips. "Fucking hell, yes" his breath shook as Fenix kissed him softly.

Hiding his face in the pillow; Fenix ended up throwing it at Derek as the latter peppered him in kisses and grinned basically praising him. "Not bad for me not being a top" he mumbled and trapped his boyfriend in a cuddle.

"You do alright for being a bottom" Derek kissed Fenix and ran his hand up the his boyfriend's back. "You get in your head too much about not thinking you're enough" he whispered; looking at Fenix who gave him a warning look.

"Force of habit" Fenix whispered back hearing Derek's words. "I always worry about not being enough" he raked his fingers along his boyfriend's chest and sighed. "You're so damned chill about it and I don't know how not to be worried about all the things I know won't happen" Fenix nuzzled close to Derek and smiled as he was pulled upwards so he was laying on top of his boyfriend.

Derek pulled Fenix on top of him and shifted so he was comfortable. "You're more than all that, baby" his hands ghosted the tonic Fenix's thighs. "You make me realize who my own insecurities are small compared to what you go through every day" Derek's finger ghosted the tattoo of what he now realized was the beach they went to on their first official date.

Fenix watched as Derek thumbed the tattoo on his (Fenix's) leg. "Got it after we called it a night, kells did it for me." He smiled and covered his eyes as Derek kissed it. "That's why it has your logo in the middle" Fenix relaxed when Derek looked up at him.

"I recognize my boy's work, he did a good job of it" Derek smiled up at Fenix and slipped a hand under his head. "I like it, you seemed like you felt free that day" he let his messy hair cover his eyes as Fenix's fingers ran through it. "He sees you like a little brother" Derek spoke and stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. "He threatened to beat my ass if I fucked it up that night"

"He's done a few of mine actually" Fenix said; whilst playing with his boyfriend's hair. "Kells did this one the day I started T" he took Derek's hand and ran one of his boyfriend's finger along his (Fenix's) waist. "He said it's supposed to remind me what it took for me to get that far."

Definitions:

Packer: (silicone penis used by some frm transgender individuals, simillar to a dildo and can be used sexually if so desired)

Neurodivergent: an atypical neurological configuration, for example a person who has a developmental disorder and/or a mental illness. 

Cis: cisgendered - someone who is assigned male\female and identifies with their assigned gender.