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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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mochegato · 3 years

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Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment. She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham. The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high. The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision. It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to. It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her. She eyed the people around her as she walked. Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her. She could feel somebody watching her. She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move. She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her. She frowned slightly and shook her head. She was getting paranoid. She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag. The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own. She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it. She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything. Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs. She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her. She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion. “Just me. It’s okay. It’s just me.” He watched her for a few seconds. She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me. So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.” He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow. “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right? You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today. It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes. And I’m a security expert. I consult on it for people and companies. I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.” He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe. “I can already tell that you need better locks. I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds. “You would be right.” She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door. “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern. “I wouldn’t let you. I’d charge Tim for it. He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him. The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became. She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there. Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys. “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.” She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment. He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting. But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now? “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions. Standard issue, not particularly secure. He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight. He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open. He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile. Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her. There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected. He shook his head at the condition of the apartment. It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean. He could see why she and Tim got along so well. Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports. He raised an eyebrow at that. Odd combination. His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door. He scrunched his forehead in confusion. If she lived with someone, where were they? Where were they last night? Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him? “You live with someone? A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator. “No. Well, yes, but no. I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded. That was good at least. She wasn’t living alone. There was someone else with her usually. That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her. He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time. It was worse than the door. “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones. This lock is ancient too. It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it. We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter. She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad. She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here. Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be. She was just an average citizen here.

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could. She was no longer safe, not even in her own home. But then again, she never really had been had she? She had just thought she was. She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant. Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting. Jason could guess where her head went. When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang. She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water. She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water. Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help. It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter. Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink. She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter. After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed. Jason frowned at the sound. It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her. He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help. God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming. Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her. She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again. They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring. She shook her head at herself. She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped. She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.” She paused to listen to him. “No, I’m fine. I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it. Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim. “I’m doing okay, I guess. I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid. I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor. “No, thank you though. Actually, your brother is here already.” She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.

“…that so. That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern. “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh. Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications. She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off. He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed. “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down. And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.” He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling. “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey! That makes me Ron? What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled. “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words. “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?” Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in. “Oh! No, I was serious. You two remind me of my friends. It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight? You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again. “Yeah, Tim. I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course. Let me know if that changes. I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously. “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely.”

“Sweet. I might test it just for that,” she teased him. “Night, Tim.”

“Night. And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up. She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go? It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her. “I have plenty of time. Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again. “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture. It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him. “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile. “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes. “You certainly seem to think so.” She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now. If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him. She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him. “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes. “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response. “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly. She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively. “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it? Or pretend like it never happened. I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly. “I was keeping an eye on my drinks. I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.” She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before. “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence. When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring. He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously. He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were. “You don’t think it was just opportunistic. You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor. She gripped her arms tighter. “I don’t know. I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people. I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again. “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded. She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze. She looked up at him with a fake smile. “So what are you feeling for dinner? I can make some pasta. I can do stir fry. I can whip up a casserole. What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention. “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile. He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t want to be either. Do you want me to call Tim over? I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile. “No, I trust you. And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back. “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen. “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her. “You should eat though. What kind of food do you want to try? There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away. “I don’t want to order out. I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again. “Yeah, that’s reasonable. Let’s make something together, yeah? I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter. How do you feel about breakfast for dinner? French toast sound good? I think you call it Lost Bread? And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded. “That all sounds amazing.” She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared. “Thank you, Jason. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem. We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself. They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again. Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - night #Jasonette Protection Program

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ask-purpled-and-blued · 3 years

Text

Vigilante

Not once has Purpled ever called himself a hero.

He wants that on record, wants to say it up front. He’s never had any delusions about what he is and what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have the license for it, doesn’t have the morals for it. He’s not even saving that many people.

He’s just some kid running around in pro hero cosplay with his shoddy homemade support gear.

So riddle him this: why the fuck is his vigilante name trending on Twitter under #Swag_forHeroCon?

(—This one’s got a high-stress moment and the briefest panic attack known to man somewhere in the middle. Mind the post’s tags and reply if it needs more.—)

—

It started about a year ago. It’s sophomore year and he’s looking at his options for next year’s classes.

Of course he’s taking AP Calc and everything he thinks colleges wanna see. That’s a given and a no-brainer and he’s not gonna go into detail about that.

No, what matters is that his junior and senior year let him take career classes.

Hero-related career classes.

Because not only is this a private nerd school that he needs his scholarship to afford. It’s a private nerd school that has a dual-enrollment type thing with a nearby heroics school.

And one with a pretty good support course that is now available to him.

He’s always been interested in math and engineering. Support courses are just using both of those to make cool shit for heroes and make hella money while doing so.

He’s done his research. Support gear can cost anywhere from a couple thousand dollars to an arm and a leg and both your kidneys.

And it’s his dream to make that kinda money.

So he talks to his counselor about it, fills out the applications and waivers, takes the program’s entrance exam. And within a week he’s got his new schedule that’s got an extra two hours slapped onto the end of the day.

It’s gonna be so worth it.

—

And it really was.

The beginning of the year was covering what they should make support gear for, how to take the quirks and ideas of the heroes they’re working for and make them actually work.

But also the design process, how to research stuff, lab safety. How to make something look nice while not compromising its utility, costume design, branding. Different materials and their uses, different materials and how to work with them. How to deal with mistakes and set-backs. Avoiding burnout and getting literally burn.

The class was amazing. But his favorite part came later in the year.

The final project.

They were given a made up hero student’s profile and were told to create a support item for them. The file came with their name, measurements, hero name, quirk description, and several sketches of what the fake person looked like and of them using their quirk.

They were given a few deadlines and some profiles came with design requests, but for the most part they were allowed to go ham.

And go ham he did.

His assignment was a kid whose quirk was being able to float just himself. He got a couple sketches of what the kid’s costume already had and it looked like there was a bee theme going on.

So, naturally, he decided to give this kid a pneumatic nail gun.

...

Alright so maybe that wasn’t as intuitive as he thought it was. But the kid didn’t have any sort of weapon on him in any of the sketches!

And there wasn’t any sort of close combat abilities listed in the biography like some of his classmates’s people had, so the further this kid could be from the action while still packing a punch the better.

Hence the nail gun he was designing to look like a stinger.

He did his research. Looked up where the body’s vital organs are and read up on acupuncture. Looked up the damage that stab wounds can do and how fast a thing had to be going to go right through you.

Printed out some human outlines and wrote up a couple sheets that pointed out the “no-no spots.” And basically wrote a manual on how to use the thing and half an essay on why certain safety features were implemented to keep him and the fake kid from being sued.

And then halfway through actually building the thing he got the idea to add a paralytic substance.

And then he hated himself a little bit because he had to find a substance that would be non-lethal and would have the desired affect. And then he had to go to his teacher during his office hours to sit down and explain that yes he had this idea but he’s not entirely sure if it’s a good one.

And he wrote another almost-essay about what he chose as the paralytic substance and why he chose it and what the max amount the average person could take was so that he wouldn’t be liable if it was used improperly.

And then he recorded himself reading all of his paperwork both for extra credit and because apparently the kid’s bio said he was dyslexic and the teacher wanted them to do this as realistically as possible.

Probably would’ve been easier to just change the font but he’s come this far, might as well go the extra mile.

He paints the thing. Gathers up all his research and his concept sketches and his blueprints and his explanations and his recordings.

And he dumps them on the teacher’s desk and enjoys the lull in the class as the final projects get reviewed and graded.

They get to watch movies and Netflix with the TA while the teacher sits in the other room grading them.

He loved this class.

—

He still loves the class but it loses points for the fucking heart attack it just gave him.

Apparently the hero students they made shit for we’re real hero students. Actual, physical people who applied to the heroics department and got in. And may possibly one day be heroes if they didn’t fail.

And were going to come in and see the shit they made that passed inspections. And would be given said shit to use as part of their hero costumes.

In hindsight it should’ve been obvious, but Purpled cut himself some slack there.

At least his guy was nice. A little too excited at 4pm on a Thursday, but given the fact that Purpled just handed him a gun and said he could shoot people, it was understandable.

Purpled felt really good as he walked this Tubbo guy through the instructions again. Apparently he’d already been sent the paperwork and the audio before this. So all that was left to do was remind him about it the important stuff and then taking five wide steps back and letting him shoot at a practice dummy.

...

Well, Tubbo’s aim wasn’t his problem.

F to any villains and civilians in his way.

—

At this point, there’s probably some confusion.

“Purpled, why did you become a vigilante if your support gear inventing future looked bright?”

He’s getting to that!

He needs to talk about his junior year to give context for his senior year.

Which sucked absolute ass.

—

For one, Purpled’s quirk came in.

Now, normally that would be a pretty good thing. Somewhere around 80% of America’s population had quirks.

Four out of every five people had some sort of ability or abnormality that ranged from being able to detach your ear to having super strength. Getting one that wasn’t detrimental to your health, even at his age, was generally a positive thing.

Except Purpled’s actually sucked. Sucked so fucking bad.

Yeah, he was lucky in that he didn’t suddenly grow gills and need to live underwater for the rest of his life or something. But he honestly wished he could go back to a week ago when he didn’t have this quirk.

When he wasn’t constantly being forgotten by the people in his life because of a quirk he couldn’t turn off.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the quirk counselor’s quirk let them detect the use of quirks, he would’ve thought he’d lost it.

People forgetting his face, his name, his existence over the span of a week was hell. He had to show his mother his birth certificate and social security card and his baby pictures so that she’s remember she had another son. Let alone everyone else in his life that he only saw at school.

Oh god his fucking school.

The lengths he had to go to to keep his fucking scholarship was fucking nuts.

Classes were a nightmare with the teachers forgetting about him by the end of the period.

Things eventually got easier when he realized it was an area of effect thing and that he could shorten it to affect people within a few feet of him.

From that point on he just had to social distance from people like his life depended on it. Because his social and academic lives did depend on it.

He didn’t experiment with his quirk beyond that though. He hated it. He did everything in his power to keep it as tightly controlled as he could.

Until the one time he didn’t.

—

He was out to get another notebook because he’d severely underestimated how many notes he’d need to take for one of his classes. It was just supposed to be a quick stop on his way home.

He’d sat on the bus home with his quirk pulled in tightly around him, the force of it a buzzing weight on his skin that he refused to let go of.

He got off at a stop that wasn’t his but was closer to the dollar store he had in mind. He honestly didn’t expect to take more than ten minutes.

Then a guy walked in and loudly told the cashiers to hand over the money.

Purpled wasn’t that close to the front, but he peeked around the aisle and watched the robbery unfold.

The dude had what looked like leaves for hair and was holding the cashiers at gunpoint. There were two of them at adjacent checkouts, neither of them with any visible mutations. They actually might not have quirks.

Purpled has no idea what to do with this information.

His best bet was to wait for the heroes to arrive and stay quiet-

One of the cashiers was looking right at him. Robber guy noticed.

Turned around and pointed his gun at Purpled. Told him to get out from where he was hiding and to kneel on the ground in the open.

And Purpled was scared. He couldn’t move, he’d frozen.

The guy got loud and mad and he still had the gun pointed at him.

Purpled was panicking. His chest felt too tight and his quirk was freaking out. Buzzing harder than it ever has.

He couldn’t hold it. He let go.

...

For a moment, everything was still and everything was quiet.

Purpled felt light, he felt more at ease than he had in months.

Because his quirk was free and loose and everyone else in the room looked so fucking confused. Like they had no idea what was going on.

Like they just forgot what was going on.

And then the heroes arrived. How they knew to be here was anyone’s guess.

Purpled should probably give his statement.

Purpled was probably in shock though. So he forgave himself for shoplifting and not pulling his quirk back in. For just walking right out of the store and down the street.

Nobody shouted at him or called him back, so he assumed they forgot he was there.

He wished he could forget he was in the store for that moment too.

—

There’s a lot of other little things that lead up to Purpled being a vigilante, but those things don’t matter as much.

He drops out. It’s not hard to make people forget he even went to school.

He regularly breaks back into school to steal tools and materials for his projects and just wipes the people who walk in on him doing that shit.

Makes a costume but scraps it and decides to make several replicas of the top twenty’s costumes.

Because he’s realized that the wider he makes his range the less of an effect his quirk has on all those in range. Vice versa.

So the pro gamer move here is to make people forget what they saw the person in the pro hero costume doing instead of trying to make them forget they saw an unfamiliar figure doing shit.

Memory is reconstructive after all. Easily manipulated even without a quirk like his.

And he’s good at making his costumes and altering his appearance.

He probably won’t always do a good job wiping people’s memories though, so he lets it stick that there’s a vigilante that impersonates pro heroes. One that constantly shifts their appearance.

He even gets bold and makes a name for himself.

Swag_.

...

Listen he didn’t say it was a good name-

—

He doesn’t stop a lot of crime. And the people he does save often think they were saved by someone else.

But there’s always that one moment after he managed to save someone where they look at him. And they see him.

And that’s worth everything.

It’s not a selfless motive. It’s not a heroic motive.

But it’s enough of a motive for Purpled.

—

He doesn’t know how he got a following. Doesn’t know how he never noticed.

But he likes it. After the initial shock of seeing himself trending fades, he lets himself soak up all the positive attention.

And then he gets back to work.

#text post #lore post #ask purpled and blued #vigilante!purpled #purpled #purpled bedwars #superhero Au #gun mention #tw gun mention #ask to tag #long post #not proofreading this one

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darkredehmption · 3 years

Text

Class Is In

#SL #ClassIsIn

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang

****

Mal:

I shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t even the first time, but thank fuck, none of my new ‘students’ seemed to notice. As each of the Brothers filed in, taking various seats at the front of the room, I resisted the urge to up and fucking leave. Instead I clenched the black dry erase marker, my eyes straying to Zsadist, who watched me with a small, reassuring smile. My free hand absently brushed over the new scar beneath my shirt, reminding me of what I was doing, and why.

My most recent hospital stay had ended only a few days earlier, and while I’d been approved to teach a classroom full of muscle clad, would-kick-the-shit-out-of-satan killers, I was still black listed from actually leaving the manse to go on rotation. So I had to take what I could get I guess.

As silence crept in with everyone settling the fuck down, I felt the even more uncomfortable weight of eyes on me, waiting for how I was going to wow them. I mean, this wasn’t a class on explosives, firearms, or the 52 ways you could kill a guy with your thumb. This was on the supernatural. Or, I guess, everything ELSE that was supernatural other than… well, us.

“Right, shit, well… here we go. Never been a public speaker, so bear the fuck with me while I figure this shit out,” I mutter, tapping the marker against my free hand. Rhage, helpfully, grinned and said ‘here, here’.

“Well, let’s start by cutting straight to the why’s of being here,” I say firmly, looking to Zsadist and giving a small nod. “Z had a demon hitch a ride. He was possessed,” I say flatly. “And demons gossip around the lava water cooler worse than chicks in a high school. If we don’t start taking precautions now, we could be seeing more of them. Or more of what happened…”

I managed to keep myself from brushing the scar this time, but nothing could quell the furious fire burning in me to ensure Zsadist would never, ever have to go through that shit again.

Zsadist:

I couldn’t help but keep my eyes locked onto my male. I mean let’s face it, I always wanted my eyes on him. But even more lately with what had gone down recently. I could have lost him. Lost the most important person in life at the hands of myself. Well technically not myself, but still, this meeting was important. It was important for the Brotherhood to learn some knowledge on a new threat we had.

Demons.

Shaking the thought from my head as I give my male an encouraging smile. He looked nervous as hell to be in front of the Brotherhood right now, about to teach them a thing or two of his enemies. Though I wanted to believe that my Brothers would behave and give them his full attention.

I couldn’t help but notice Mal’s hand as it crept closer to the new scar that I helped make on his body. Yes, this wasn’t my doing completely, but my hand was the one wielding the dagger. I had to stop letting myself believe this was all my fault, because it wasn’t.

The demons were another enemy that we needed to take down. So I made sure everyone was paying attention before my eyes landed on Mal once again.

Mal:

“I can honestly say I’ve never dealt with a demon possessing a vampire before, but then again, I don’t think the regular vampires they’re used to quite cut it…”

I frowned at that thought, but shrugged and kept going.

“Anyway, we’ll deal with the other breeds of vampires in another lesson,” I say absently, shaking my head. “And ghouls… werewolves… wendigos… poltergeists… well, you get the idea.” I waved my hand as if it would dismiss all the other breeds of supernatural beasties I’d just thrown out there. “Demons are our most pressing issue. How to identify one…”

Turning to the white board, I popped the top on my marker and started to write as I spoke.

“Flickering lights. While also a sign of a malevolent spirit, it can be an indicator that a strong demon is nearby. In their raw form, they look like dark black smoke. That smoke will seek access to your body through your nose and mouth,” I instruct, turning to look back at the Brothers.

All of whom were staring at me, wide eyed and… damn, I wasn’t sure. Angry? Disbelieving? Incredulous? I couldn’t pin it. But this shit was definitely not what they were used to dealing with, and I was going to need to give them a minute to absorb.

“Uh… ask questions, if you want. If it… makes it easier.”

Zsadist:

Whoa okay. That was a lot of knowledge my male just spilled. I was just accepting the fact that demons had entered our world, but all those other things? Hell no.

As I looked around the room I couldn’t help but notice my Brothers with the same blank look on their faces. Vishous was the first one to recover. I watched carefully as he lit a blunt then leaned across his desk.

“Well shit. Always figured there was more to life than just us and the humans.” Vishous said with a shrug.

Rhage’s brows drew in as he raised his hand. I couldn’t help but laugh as he played the role as a student. Once called on, by the very sexy teacher, he drops his hand and unwraps a lollipop.

“So...like all those things you are saying is bad? But how can that be true? I mean...Hadrian is a shifter and he isn’t bad. Used for bad things, sure, but that isn’t his fault. I guess what I’m saying is, what is trying to come for us currently? Do the demons work with the other parties that were mentioned?”

Ah yes, Hadrian.

Even though we were connected, I had a weird feeling that Rhage was tight with the male as well. Rhage once told me that he can relate to Hadrian in some way and hopes that they would get the chance to spend more time together.

Speaking of, I needed to check in with the shifter and make sure he was doing alright. We did manage to be on rotation together every now and then, but rarely did we have the time to chit chat. Maybe next time Mal was out fighting and I was at home I could see if Hadrian wanted to grab a beer. Couldn’t hurt.

Mal:

“Not all shifters are bad the way not all vampires are bad,” I conceded, nodding my head. “Hadrian is a special example too. Even in his world, being able to shift into more than one creature is rare. Most shifters, like werewolves, are bound to one animal.”

Pausing, I took in a breath, trying not to let myself be distracted by thoughts of Hadrian. The shifter being metaphysically bound to my mate was still a raw point for me, but I was working through it. Y’know. Slowly.

“But back to demons…” Lifting a hand to my shirt, I tugged down the collar just enough to reveal the pentacle tattoo across my chest. I also tried to ignore the quick way Z’s golden eyes narrowed at my potentially showing skin to his Brothers, but in this instance he was definitely going to have to breathe. “There are ways of ensuring a demon can’t possess you,” I explain. “This symbol is a protective one that repels demons. They can’t possess me. You can also wear the symbol, or other various amulets and protective talismans, to prevent it.”

Letting go of the shirt, I start a list.

“So, symbols. Talismans. Holy water,” I add, my tone rueful as I figured some of them were, undoubtedly, rolling their eyes. After all, holy water was also a mythical vampire repellent. “If a demon has already possessed a body, you can sometimes provoke them into revealing themselves by saying the name of God in latin.” I glance back at all of them. “Their eyes will turn a complete and glossy black with no iris at all. If they turn any other colour… well. Run like hell while screaming my name,” I say dryly.

Zsadist:

My eyes narrowed dangerously low when I watched Mal reveal his chest to my Brothers. Sure, they’ve seen his bare torso, but that doesn’t mean I wanted them sneaking a peek.

Quickly my head snaps in Vishous’s direction when he starts sketching in the notebook he brought to Mal’s class. Leaning over my desk to look over his shoulder only to reveal a drawing of the tattoo my male wore on his chest. Vishous continued to underline the shape as I leaned back into my seat. He probably had a plan of making some amulets for us to wear while out on rotation.

Everything Mal described sounded...insane. But I knew first hand that this was serious, and everything that he was saying was true.

“I can’t believe we are going to turn into demon hunters!” Rhage chimes in with a goofy smile.

I hold back a snort, turning my attention towards Tohrment as he clears his throat. All heads turn towards his direction.

“So...do these demons have a main purpose? Or do they just run around trying to find people to possess. Like we know what the lessers want...I was just wondering if these demons had an end goal.” Tohr murmurs as he crosses his arms.

Mal:

“Woah, hold your horses dragon boy,” I snort, shaking my head. “I don’t want to turn the Brotherhood into hunters. Believe it or not, there are hunters out there ready to track down demons and the like when they pop up and send them back to Hell. The ‘only’ reason I am teaching ‘anything’ right now is because… well, me being here could bring more of the nasties into our radar, and I want everyone at least prepared to handle it.”

Yeah. Fuck. I ‘so’ did not need to lead these leather clad killers into metaphysical battles. They were all about the bang bang motherfuckers, and you couldn’t waste a ghost or half the things I’d fought with just lead and blades alone.

“Case in point,” I continue, arching a brow. “Half the shit I deal with can’t be snuffed out with a few bullets or a well placed knife to the heart cavity, yeah? Banishing demons requires the seal of solomon and exorcism chants and a whole whack of shit. In the case of possession? Prevention is so much better than cure, so I just want everyone able to avoid it. Depending on who excels at these classes, I may go further to teach exorcisms.”

My eyes flicked to Zsadist, then to Vishous, the two I’d already pegged as most likely to be taught an exorcism. If Vishous didn’t go ahead and research the latin for it without me I’d be shocked.

“As far as a demon’s purpose…” I trailed off, sighed then shrugged. “Really, they want mayhem. They want souls. They don’t want to be in hell. So, all of the above and then some. The better their vessel, the more situated they are to get other demons up and included. So, a breed of rich, powerful vampires with all manner of weapons at their disposal would be ‘very’ appealing,” I add dryly. “So, to reiterate… demons flinch at the latin name of God, burn at the touch of holy water, have dark eyes and look like dark clouds of smoke when they come at you in raw form. Any questions?”

Zsadist:

Everyone kinda stayed quiet, some shook their heads as Mal asked if anyone had questions. Which honestly I was a little relieved at. That means that my Brothers were taking this seriously. Then again after they discovered Hadrian, and learned about shifters, they must believe that anything is possible at this point.

“Think this is a good starting point. We need to continue on and train to be able to handle the demons. Mal is right in a sense where we don’t need to go out and look for demons to destroy, but more so be equipped to handle them if they get in the way from our main goal.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as Rhage’s face fell. Maybe one day Rhage could go on a mission if any of Mal’s hunter friends ever needs a hand. Then again Hollywood actually might cause more damage.

Snorting at the thought as I look up to watch them file out slowly. Vishous stops in front of my mate to show him some things he wrote down then bumps his shoulder before following out after Butch. Figures V would be all about this. I’m sure he would be up all night doing research.

I lean back in my desk, keeping my eyes on my mate as a private smile slowly forms on my face. Something that my Brothers wouldn’t get to see. Slowly I move to get up, the wooden chair creaking beneath me as I shift my weight off of it.

“Well, that went...well.” I rumbled as I made my way over to the very handsome teacher. “What do you think?” My arms cross over my broad chest.

Mal:

With everyone getting the basics down and with no further questions, class seemed to be dismissed. As Vishous stopped to show me his mockup of the tattoo on my chest, I nodded, agreeing with his ideas of necklaces and arm bands bearing the symbol to protect the Brothers. They needed things that were easy to put on or keep close that wouldn’t get in the way of the fight.

Waiting for Z to come up, I felt myself relaxing the closer he got, until he was right there and I was leaning over to steal a kiss.

“You think it went well?” I murmur, grateful to hear it. “Could you tell I was nervous? Teaching classes is not really my schtick, but everyone seemed to… take it well.”

Sighing, I leant against the desk at the front and gestured backward at the board and the notes I’d made.

“I know this is new to everyone, but… I appreciate the enthusiasm.” Pausing, I looked my male over and felt a familiar and welcome rush of affection. “You okay?”

Zsadist:

The kiss was soft and I welcomed it by sliding my arms around Mal’s waist. Holding my mate against me as my hand lifted to graze his cheek.

“Yeah, now that everything's okay and you are healed.” I murmur as I avoid his gaze for a moment. Trying not to picture the moment I stabbed my own mate in the chest.

Clears my throat. “This is good. We needed this done in case we came in contact with another demon. It seems like everyone took it serious for the most part.” I snort thinking of Rhage then shrugs. “Do you feel good about continuing the lessons? I want to make sure every Brother is well equipped to take care of a demon if we come across one. Scribe, don’t need anyone else getting possessed and stabbing people in the manse.”

Mal could have died. So we needed to take this seriously and make sure everyone in the mansion was safe at all times. To think that we let a threat in, that I let a threat in, was unsettling.

Mal:

Nodding, I rubbed a hand down my mate’s arm reassuringly, looking at the empty classroom. I’d already started to take precautions of my own. The second I’d been released from the med wing I’d sought out, of all people, Fritz, asking for a layout of the grounds and every entrance. From there, I’d gone to each one and set up holy seals - wards to keep out demons and trap any that tried to enter.

“I’ve spoken with Vishous,” I murmur, still thinking about the wards. “I let him know about the wards I put near the entrances - asked him to figure out more permanent solutions to my chalk and salt displays. I think Fritz almost had a coronary when I drew on everything, threw salt everywhere, and told him he couldn’t clean it,” I add ruefully, flashing Z a smile. “But at least that’s a start. I should’ve thought of that when I moved in…”

The admission tasted sour on my tongue, and I looked away from the intensity of that golden gaze to better process my guilt. If I’d had devil’s traps set when I moved in, Zsadist and the demon hitching a ride wouldn’t have got past the door. He’d have been trapped, but performing an exorcism at that point would’ve been a lot fucking easier. But instead I’d been naive, thinking the demons and all the beasties I’d hunted would never find me in Caldwell. And Z had almost paid the price.

“I’m good with continuing lessons, not just on demons,” I said finally, letting out a breath. “And while I was honest when I said I don’t want the Brothers going hunting if I can help it, there is a perk to knowing I have back up if something goes down in our backyard.”

Zsadist:

“Don’t beat yourself up about that. Hell, I’m surprised this is the first time we have come in contact with them. With all the shit we dabble in you would have thought we would have seen them before” I shrug before reaching for my male. My hand cups his nape, forcing his gaze back to mine.

“Hey. You can’t beat yourself up over this, just like you told me that I can’t even though I do.” I snorted. “It’s done and you are safe in my arms.” My voice cracks slightly at that, holding him a little tighter in my arms.

“Everything is going well, and I’m grateful to have you teach us how to handle these demons.” I nod before slowly pulling away.

“Now...come on, let’s head back upstairs…”

My scarred lips turn up into a playful smirk as I start down the hallway. I couldn’t wait to have my male in our bed and to know that he was safe with me.

#EndSL #ClassIsIn

#SLS BlackDaggerBrotherhood

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preciouspeterbparker · 3 years

Text

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished!

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending!

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season.

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay.

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony.

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside.

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.” Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of- Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well.

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?”

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted.

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?”

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio.

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was.

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now.

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been.

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag.

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect.

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb.

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine.

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.”

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car.

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer.

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously.

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me.

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it?

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself.

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy.

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time.

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force. She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”)

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs.

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips.

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone.

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.”

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part.

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could. “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim.

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs.

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there.

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.)

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.” He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises.

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!”

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven?

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man.

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.”

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member. “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.”

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.”

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan.

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole.

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head.

***

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much.

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that.

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together.

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together.

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get.

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms.

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years.

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

#starker #hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas #bloo writes bad things (tm)#enjoy!

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enbies-and-felonies · 4 years

Text

Heather

@illavarasi @lemontarto @clearlykeefitz @book-limerence @sprintingkoala @anna-without-an-e @everyonehasthoughts @ultralazycreatorfan @vibing-in-the-void @impostertamsong @littlemisscupcake @keeper-of-the-lost-queers @dragonwinnie @an-absolute-travesty @callas-starkflower-stew

~writing strike is over~

Summary: Fitz watches as he slowly loses Keefe, based off of this post.

warnings: internalized homophobia, swearing, general angst (and a rant that ties in heavily to current events) and caps (yelling)

~I still remember, before I brought her to the cities~

He was beautiful. Fitz had told a joke and now Keefe was laughing, and he was beautiful. Fitz wondered why his father had glared at the two men they had seen kissing at the Atlantis tea shop they had been visiting that evening. Kissing Keefe would have felt so. Right.

But he was only thirteen, so what did Fitz know?

~you and I together / you said we’d be forever, and I had hoped it was true~

“Another pair of crush cuffs,” Keefe said mockingly, but his smirk betrayed his words.

Fitz rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna wear them anyway, I don’t like her.” He didn’t like any of the girls.

“Well why not?! I’m sure-” Keefe paused to read the cuff’s, “-Azula is a darling girl.”

“I couldn't care less. Girls are too... complicated. I’d much rather just hang out with someone I already know I like.”

Keefe flopped onto the bed beside him, “Like your best friend? Who got you all the ladies to begin with?” He turned over to his side and waggled his eyebrows at Fitz, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Girls break people’s hearts. They leave.” Fitz said. Not my heart, he thought.

“Well, I’ll never leave you, Roy. We’ll be forever besties.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

~ only if you knew, how much I liked you / but I watch your eyes as she / walks by ~

“So Foster was obviously not sleeping, like she always does, and I-”

Keefe was rambling about Sophie, and Fitz’s heart was breaking. It was breaking and it didn’t matter because he was gay and he could never have been with Keefe anyway, but why did Keefe have to love her? Why couldn’t he just stay with Fitz forever?

“-but I guess it didn’t matter because after that she looked at me with those doe eyes, and Princey? I think- I think I might be falling for her.”

~replacing me in your mind, smile brighter than the sun in the sky / she’s got you mesmerized, while I’m crying~

“Hey Keefe, do you want to hang out tonight? I got this super cool elixir from Dex, and I want to see how it turns out. It would be perfect for pranking your dad.” Fitz smiled hopefully. Sure, Keefe liked Sophie, but they were still friends, they could still-

“Sorry Roo, another time? Sophie and I, and Linh and Marella, are gonna go to Atlantis to check out this hair stylist. Sophie wants to see me in braids, and I don’t trust Biana with my lovely locks. I didn’t get this head of hair by trusting lesbians with it after all.” His eyes twinkled like they always did, and Fitz swallowed hard to ignore the twinge in his chest.

“No problem, Keefe. Another time.” His eyes prickled as the imparter went dark.

He wondered if Keefe remembered letting Fitz place a misshapen flower crown on his head after Fitz had painstakingly done small braids in his blonde hair. He wondered if he even cared.

~Why would you ever kiss me? / I’m not even half as pretty~

Fitz breathed in the sweet smell of Panakes flowers as he held Keefe’s hand, their fingers loosely linked.

“Hey, let’s dance.” Keefe tugged him to his feet, and Fitz dragged his gaze away from the stars.

“Why?” He asked, laughing, “We don’t even know how to.”

Keefe only grinned in response, so Fitz rolled his eyes and stood, placing his right hand on Keefe’s left shoulder and blushing when his breath hitched as Keefe placed his hand fully on Fitz’s waist. His ice-blue eyes twinkled and he smirked.

“I’ve got you, Roo.” He whispered, and Fitz let his heart race as Keefe pulled them close together, chests brushing, the side of his cheek brushing against Fitz’s ear.

And they danced, swaying gently back and forth, the only music the in-sync beating of their hearts.

Eventually Keefe drew back slightly, just enough to look Fitz in his teal eyes.

“May I...?” He whispered, breath feather-soft against Fitz’s lips. Keefe’s grip tightened on his hip as Fitz nodded, and he leaned in.

The brush of his lips was like a memory, and Fitz found himself closing his eyes as his heart burst into a thousand different colours of love and wistfulness and he felt complete and shattered at the same time-

He blinked as he woke up. A tear slid down the side of his face. He shut his eyes tight, trying recapture even the slightest moment from the dream, but it was gone.

~you gave her your artwork, its just pen and paper / but you like her better / (I wish I were Foster)~

“You’ve been pretty quiet lately, Wonderboy. What’s up?” Keefe lay on the floor, legs swinging as he sketched something. Fitz looked up from his book ‘Wuthering Heights’ (a human book that so far had been nothing but depressing) and sighed.

“I haven’t been sleeping well, and I don’t know why.” Half-truth, since he really hadn’t been sleeping well, but he knew exactly why. Just like he knew Keefe probably wouldn’t push it.

Or maybe he didn’t, because the next words out of Keefe’s mouth were, “Really? There seems to be more on your mind than just that, Roy.” He looked up from the paper and blew a strand of hair from his eyes.

Fitz closed his book. Convincing Keefe was going to be harder than he had assumed.

“I guess... I don’t know. I’m just...” FUCK FUCK FUCK, WHAT SHOULD HE SAY?!

“I’m worried about the future. I mean, how is being thrown into one of the biggest historical upheavals going to affect us? We’re just kids!! But we’re being expected to fight these people, and the adults around us don’t even help us the way we need them to?? Years from now, will it even be over? Why do WE have to be the ones to change the world?

“They don’t give us authority, but they burden us with responsibility. Do they honestly think it won’t affect us? The world is going to hell and we’re still expected to do good in school and keep our heads down like it isn’t OUR future that’s being shitted on. Like the people who have the power to do something aren’t sitting on their ASSES doing absolutely fucking NOTHING?!

“People can make as many fucking jokes about us being lazy, when in reality we’re fucking world weary at an age where we’re not even old enough to fucking DRINK.”

Damn, maybe he was better at covering the real reason for his sleep than he thought... At least this part wasn’t a lie.

“Fuck, Fitz. That’s heavy...” Keefe rolled over and sat up, “That’s what’s going on? Fuck, if I knew that I wouldn’t have teased you about it.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but the words changed before they came out, “I kinda feel the same way. I just don’t know what to do about it, so I make jokes. It doesn’t always help, but at least I don’t have to face the fear that.... well, y’know.”

They sat that way for a long, silent stretch before Fitz cleared his throat.

“Whatcha, um- What are ya drawing?”

Keefe looked at Fitz’s eyes another long second before picking up the piece of paper and studying it. “It’s a drawing for Foster. It’s when we rode on Silveny to heal her abilities. I figured it’d be a good gift since I plan on... I mean, I’m gonna try to ask her out.”

Oh.

Fitz forced a smile, “It looks good, Keefe. She’ll love it.”

“You sure?” It was one of the only times Fitz had seen Keefe nervous, and for a moment Fitz was tempted to shout ‘NO, of COURSE not’ and jump across the room before tearing it to shreds, but then he was overcome by guilt and he nodded.

“I’m absolutely sure, Keefe,” He stated, voice thick, “Cognates, remember?”

Keefe took a deep breath, “Yeah, thanks Wonderboy.” He smiled and tucked the picture into his pocket.

Fitz turned back to his book, the tears in his eyes blurring the words into a mess.

~ Oohhh, Oooohhh, wish I were Foster~

She said yes. Of course she said yes. Keefe was perfect for her, and everyone could see it.

And Fitz was happy for them -they were his two best friends!- he just. Wished that it was Fitz that Keefe had been happy with. Wished that it was him that he had loved.

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hotpinkhoshi · 4 years

Text

kiss it better | one

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

*a/n*: hiiiiii! so here we go. i don’t have much to say except that you’ll probably notice this chapter is a bit shorter than they usually are for my fics. with this story, chapters may or may not be shorter in length. this is just easier on me, and helps me to keep a regular posting schedule. now, i’m not going to say i won’t post longer chapters, but i just wanted to get it out there. i have a tentative posting schedule in mind, which i’ll make a post about later, but i’d say you can probably expect a new chapter every two weeks.

also, just want to say- i hope everyone is staying safe and healthy right now. stay home, wash your hands, avoid contact with your face, and if you have to order food tip your delivery drivers a lil extra! and to those that don’t get to stay home and still have to work, i’m right there with you. we’ll get through this and all we can do is take it day by day ❤️

✩ index here ✩

make sure you read the prologue first!

Today had started just like any other day. Mark got up and went about his morning, brushing his teeth, eating his breakfast, and taking his usual ten minutes to sketch the ideas in his brain before heading off to work.

It’d been slow, but Mark wasn’t worried. There were enough appointments on Saturday and Sunday to make up for a slow Friday. The temperature had reached an uncomfortable high, so he’d dressed himself in a black muscle tee to offer some relief from the sticky air.

The early afternoon went smoothly. Mark took the opportunity to work on some new designs and do some organizing in his tattoo room, while the other guys opted to sit around showing each other funny videos on their phones.

By the time lunch rolled around, he decided to sit outside with his iced coffee, scrolling through social media on his phone while relaxing in the shade of the awning. He glanced up mindlessly, his eyes drawn to a figure standing across the street.

A girl holding an ice cream cone. Mark’s breath caught in his throat because, no, it wouldn’t be you. You’d be back home, attending some tiny college where your parents could keep a watchful eye on your every move, not here in the great big city.

Then the girl dropped her ice cream cone, her whine audible even from where Mark sat. He couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. He shook his head, just as there was a knock behind him on the glass of the door.

Dahyun popped her head out. “Youngjae needs help grabbing some boxes from the back, can you help? Jackson and Yugyeom are being assholes.”

Mark nodded, one last glance across the street before he stood up, heading back inside.

-----

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as Mark pressed the tip of his tattoo gun to your skin. Just the constant buzzing of the tool was enough to set your nerves on edge.

Once you felt it, though, it wasn’t so bad. It hurt, but you’d been through worse. It was comparable to a thousand tiny kittens scratching you with their claws, over and over again.

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, once one long minute had passed.

You nodded, your arms squeezing the back of the chair you were straddling. It was an uncomfortable position, but it was the only way Mark would be able to access the back of your shoulder. You’d also had to strip down to just your bra, so at least you were given some modesty.

“Yeah. Just... how long will it take?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed how hard he was concentrating. His tongue was stuck between his lips, peeking out the corner. He was entirely focused on the art that he was tracing onto your skin.

“Not long. The shading is what will take the longest, but it’s small, so I should have you out of here within the hour.”

You exhaled slowly and pressed your forehead into the cushioned back of the chair as he went over the same area a few times. Though he muttered a ‘sorry’, you found yourself wincing from the pain.

Yerin had left to get ready for work, as the stenciling and position process had gone on longer than either of you had thought. You’d made Mark move the stencil several times until you liked the positioning. Admittedly, it had been a stalling tactic to delay the inevitable pain that was coming.

“How’s Taehyung?” Mark asked, just as he took a break from tracing onto your skin. You opened your eyes to see him reaching for a cloth to wipe across your skin.

The question caught you off guard. Just the name of your brother was enough to rub salt into the wound you’d been holding closed for the last two months. You gulped, turning your face to press your other cheek into the chair, hiding your expression.

“He’s good. He’s been in Japan for two years now, I think. He’s happy there.”

You barely even noticed Mark returning to your tattoo, the pain less noticeable while your mind was occupied.

“That’s good. I saw on Facebook he has a girlfriend now?”

You nodded. “Mhm. Her name’s Jennie--she seems nice.”

Mark didn’t need to know that you hadn’t spoken to your brother since the week before you moved to Seoul. He didn’t need to know you’d been avoiding his calls, texts, and e-mails. Most of them you deleted without even opening.

From what you knew, Taehyung and Mark had simply drifted once they both moved out of your tiny town and started creating a life for themselves. Taehyung spent his years after college roaming the world, taking photos and putting on exhibits until he secured a steady photography job for a Japanese magazine.

Mark moved before that, though you hadn’t known he’d moved to the city until today. You hadn’t ever been close to him besides the casual greeting when he’d be downstairs playing video games with Taehyung while you were doing homework.

When you were younger, you’d had an innocent crush on him, only because he was one of the few boys that paid you any attention. You’d only ever had a handful of conversations, but he was always polite and even helped you with your math homework once or twice. It really hadn’t taken much to impress you back then.

“So, how long have you been in the city?” Mark asked.

You were grateful for the slight change in subject. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about your parents, and you wouldn’t have been able to pretend any longer.

“A couple of months. I just… wanted a change,” you told him honestly.

Maybe you’d gotten more than you’d bargained for… but regardless, you were grateful for your newfound independence.

“I get it,” Mark replied. “Alright, outline is done. Now we’ll just have to shade. I’ll give you a few minutes, okay?”

You lifted your face from the back of the chair and sat up straight. “Can I see it?” you asked.

It took a moment for you to realize Mark’s ears were turning red because without the shield of the chair, your entire bra-clad chest was now on display for him. It didn’t help that you’d chosen a pink, lacy bra just because it was the first one you’d grabbed out of your laundry bag.

Quickly, you leaned forward again to cover yourself with the chair, biting forcefully onto your lip. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” you said.

Mark cleared his throat and turned around, reaching for a handheld mirror on the table behind him. “It’s okay… I’ve definitely seen worse. Not that it was bad, or, well-”

It was obvious he’d put his foot in his mouth. You found yourself giggling, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. Mark looked as if he was desperate for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head at himself as he turned back around. “Here,” he said chuckling softly as he held up the mirror behind you so that you could see the work he’d already done.

You managed to stifle your giggles as you turned your head. It was no wonder Mark was known for pieces like this--his lines were crisp and clear, flowing in such a way that it looked as if your skin was born with this intricate design. You couldn’t wait to see how it looked when it was complete.

“Good?” he asked.

“I love it,” you said, smiling wide. “Makes the pain worth it.”

Mark looked pleased with your answer. He set the mirror down and got up, switching out the ink on his pen for the color he was going to use for the petals, a soft cool toned purple.

You resumed your position against the chair after a few more minutes, fists clenched as you prepared for the pain.

-----

It turned out not to be so bad. Mark kept you distracted, asking you questions about your experience in the city so far. When he sensed you avoiding the topic of home or your parents, he didn’t push.

Once he got your tattoo bandaged up, you sat around talking for another half an hour while he showed you photos of his drawings, as per your request. You’d never known that he was so talented.

“I guess I should be going,” you said after a lull in conversation. If you wanted to get back to your room before your roommate began their daily music blasting and loud video game routine, you’d need to head back.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, pulling off his gloves and washing his hands in the miniature sink against the wall.

“Just… this little place,” you answered. Little was an understatement.

When you’d moved out, you’d only had a suitcase and a finite amount of cash. It hadn’t exactly been planned, so your options were limited. You stayed in the first hostel you could find, and you were disappointed to find that the wages you received from serving couldn’t provide you with anything better.

You shared a room, currently with a Russian girl a few years older than you that seemed to only be staying in Seoul to play shooting games and blast ear-piercing rock metal. Your last roommate hadn’t been nearly as bad, but you weren’t having great luck.

“Here, I’m just finishing up for the day. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, then I’ll take you home.”

Your efforts to refuse his offer were basically ignored. He gave you no choice as he led you out to the front room to pay for your tattoo, whispering something lowly to Dahyun as she wrote up your bill.

“Mark,” you said in protest once you saw the total. You didn’t know much about tattoo pricing, but you were sure this was significantly lower than it should have been.

“What? It’s a family and friends discount.”

You sighed. As much as you wanted to refuse his help, you had to admit you could take whatever discounts you could get. Tattoos were expensive and you certainly didn’t have the budget to get one as impulsively as you had today.

“I’ll get my stuff ready, then I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Mark asked and you nodded, watching as he walked off to his room.

“Family and friends, huh?” Dahyun asked, eyebrows raised as she watched you sign your receipt. “You must have gotten really close back there.”

You laughed, sliding the receipt back over the table. “It turns out, he used to be best friends with my older brother. So… family, I guess,” you said, though you never really saw him as such. No matter how many times your mother acted like he was her second son.

“Wow, small world,” Dahyun said as she handed over a sheet of paper with a list of bullet points on it. She went over the aftercare process, recommending the creams and ointments that she preferred, and ways to help it heal faster.

After thanking Dahyun over and over for her kindness, you gathered your things and waited outside of the front door for Mark.

When your day began, you never would have thought you’d be having dinner with your brother’s old best friend, bringing back memories you hadn’t quite been ready to revisit. But he was so sweet to you, so easy to talk to, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You didn’t want to say no.

You’d always admired Mark’s choice to move to Seoul straight out of school, with no plan and no connections to the city. And he only came back for holidays and special occasions. While you were hastily packing your clothes into a duffel bag, you remembered thinking briefly of him.

“Ready?” Mark asked from behind you as he exited the shop. The sunlight hit his skin, bringing your attention to the swirling designs upon his shoulder. The way his shirt was cut allowed you a peek of his ribs—you could see loopy cursive etched on his skin but you were unable to make it out.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied with a smile, tearing your eyes from his bare skin.

#writing #fanfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark fanfic #mark smut #mark angst #mark tuan smut #got7 scenario #got7 smut #got7 angst

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humble-althemist · 4 years

Text

The Hargrove-Mayfield House

I’ve been working on drafting this floorplan for ages, but now that I’ve got quarantine amounts of free-time I’ve come back to it with extra focus and determination to get this thing right, so here you go!

reference photos with explanation will be below the cut, because there are some weird-ass bits to this house that I feel need explanation/clarification/general screaming, and that in some case are very variable depending on what canon you want to go with.

anyway! with the front of the house down there at the bottom, and keeping in mind this house is on a corner lot (streets on both sides that have exterior doors), here ya go!

(also just a heads-up that the exact proportions of everything was difficult to figure off based on a lot of these photos, and this house very much resisted attempts to be sketched out on graph paper, so while this is as close as I could get it without losing my mind, it’s definitely got some little issues here and there still.)

OK! so starting from the front, we’re all familiar with the view from the street, the long, thin porch along the front. but did y’all know the front of the house isn’t as flat as the porch makes it seem?

this is supported by the inside of the house, where we have Billy’s room in that pushed-out bit, and the front door visible through his door, leading into a living room in the pushed-back bit. (if any of that makes sense.) not the best screenshot but you can at least kind of see the corner behind Billy’s door and how it’s clearly not level with the front door

now, I’m not gonna spend much time on Billy’s room because @gothyringwald has already done the work of the gods with that one (IN THREE PARTS, MY HERO), except to briefly say yes, there is a fireplace in here, it’s the back-end of a slightly bigger one in the front room. also, not that it’s at all important cause I won’t be using s3 screencaps for his room, but his room was very clearly not filmed in the same house for s3. the view out Billy’s door changes from the front door to a hallway from s2 to s3 (and there are no hallways in this house, as you’ll see), and the view out his front-facing window changes from porch to bushes. it drove me crazy the whole time so I just had to throw that out there.

anyway, for now I want to turn your attention towards Max’s room while we’re still in here because...

first of all, yes there is a door straight into Max’s room from Billy’s, and no, I have not included it on my layout. That’s because in the show they use a bookcase on both sides of the door to hide it, so you could canonically say that there is no door. to be fair, though, they use this inset shelf thing that looks like in actual fact it wouldn’t work if both of them had one. so, use the door if it suits you, use the bookshelves if they suit you. canon is putty in your hands.

also I wanna point out that in the very bottom right corner of this shot you can see the corner of some wall trim. that’s the edge of Billy’s closet. and yes, it does stick out from the wall like that. at a guess I’d say about half of that wall is closet, and half of it is pushed back by exactly the closet’s depth, giving us this corner look.

moving on to the view into Max’s room, we can see the tiny closet space that her room has. it doesn’t appear much wider than the door to it is wide, though it is deeper than it appears from this angle, probably by about a foot. we can also see her door to the living room from here.

moving into Max’s room...

in season 2 you can feel the camera operators doing their damn best to show as little of this room as possible because it’s so weird and got so many doors, but in s3 we do get a little bit of a better feel and the screenshots I got from there do seem consistent enough with real-estate photos and s2 that I’m like 99% sure they shot Max’s bedroom scenes in the same house as in s2.

so, firstly we have a shot of that inset bookcase I mentioned hiding the door to Billy’s room, and Max’s lil closet to the right. it takes a stupid about of staring at the bottom right corner, but you can just barely see the shadow of what must be the closet’s outer corner there.

panning left, we can see Max’s windows, prime for sneaking out to do nerd shit. in the show they put a lil firewood storage thing directly under her windows for extra sneaking out potential, but I can only put so many pictures in here before tumblr makes me split this thing into two posts so I’ll refrain from adding a cap of that.

note also that that’s Billy’s window closer to us, and Susan & Neil’s at the back of the house. Billy’s would seem ideal for climbing out of as well, but some asshole put his sound system and vanity right under that window so idk how he’d manage it if he did. I’d love to see the elaborate shifting-stuff-around/gymnastics that goes into Billy’s regular sneaking out, though, if anybody wants to get on that.

ok, back into Max’s room cause we’re not done with it yet. we’ve accounted for a door that may or may not be between hers and Billy’s room, one to a lil closet space, and the one into the living room, but this girl has two more fuckin doors in her room.

unfortunately these two doors are never photographed together, so I didn’t figure out that there are two on this last wall until literally this morning while editing this post, but hopefully I can take you along my thought process on why it has to be two different doors.

essentially the thought process is, (L) no wall at all between darkened/blocked-off door and corner, (R) at least a foot of flat wall to the left of door. going back to all of my screencaps with this knowledge makes a whole lot of stuff make more sense, but again I can’t put everything here. If there’s demand for more detailed screencaps and stuff maybe I’ll make a part 2, but for now I’m trying to be as succinct as possible. (lol)

so anyway, that door on the right clearly goes into the third bedroom of the house, because why the hell not have all the bedrooms connected, and that one Susan’s standing in front of in the screencap, I believe, leads to a bathroom. (to be clear, there are two doors in that screencap. one on the left that leads to the living room as mentioned before, and the one I’m talking about, behind her, which set designers have understandably tried to disguise as a closet.)

this is purely process of elimination, since the real estate photo I have of the bathroom does not show the door, does not have any windows, and doesn’t even remotely resemble the bathroom used in s3, but the only other bathroom space I was able to find in this house was off the dining room, which is definitely not big enough to hold a bath or shower. I may throw out all the reference photos of bathrooms I have if anyone is desperately curious, but for now in my head it’s just a general haze of ~a bathroom exists here~

anyway, from that right door let’s walk on into Neil and Susan’s tiny-ass bedroom.

this room is so comically small I’m amazed Billy didn’t get saddled with it, honestly, but if you want some headcanons about why he might not have, my go-to is that Neil /or Susan realized this bedroom was the best for any teen with a mind for mischief. while the windows are definitely not as ideal for climbing out of as Max and Billy’s are, if we take that door on the left we’re in the pantry (yes, the pantry. stay with me), and it’s a straight trip from there out the side door, and out to your smokin’ hot Camaro.

idk how sound that logic is, but it’s what I’ve got lol

But anyway, now we’ve reached the end of the house on one side, so I’m gonna take us back to the front living room and work our way back from there. here we’ve a quick glance at the other end of that fireplace, and another angle of how the front door and Billy’s door relate to each other:

the two parts of the living room are separated by this wide arch, and that further bit is where we see Billy’s weights and weight bench in s2. one could say that this is just normally where he keeps it, but my own personal hc is that they’re only there in s2 because the family just moved in, and that they later get moved to his room and the basement, leaving the living room more usable.

It’s hard to be 100% sure, but looking at these photos, particularly at the floor, I believe the second living room area is narrower (as shown in the floorplan sketch). It makes Max’s room make a little more sense size- and shape-wise, and it seems like all the pictures I have of this space confirm it.

anyway, the open door on the right of the second living room bit leads back into Max’s room, and through another arch we can see into the kitchen, and beyond that the dining room.

for some reason the only shots of the kitchen are taken from the back of the house looking forward, so try not to get dizzy as we spin around here.

as you can see we’re now pointed towards the living room, and on our left (towards the bedrooms) we see the doors to that pantry I mentioned earlier. I don’t have any photos of the inside of the pantry, alas. those would solve probably every question I have about the ground floor of this house. if you look closely they look like bi-fold doors to me, but they could just open inward.

we can also definitely tell that the wall on the left side of that arch is much shallower(?) than it is on the living room side, if that makes sense. essentially, these rooms on the left side of the house are getting narrower as they go on.

until the dining room! this room narrows a little on the right side, which you can see from exterior shots, but the pantry/bathroom weirdness in the middle of the house has definitely cleared out of the way to make room for dining here. we’ve also got two big-ass windows (comparatively), since going by the direction of the wood floors, the window on the left is not the same window as the one on the right.

and going by the existence of a window in that bathroom, we know this part of the house has three external-facing walls -- or however a professional would say that. (essentially, Susan and Neil’s bedroom can’t be overlapping the other side of the bathroom.)

we’ve been pretty low on storage space here so far, so that + the fact that the door in the corner looks nothing like a door to the outside + the fact that there’s a door to the outside literally on the other side of the room, gives me the conviction that this door is just into closet space. it could be a door to the basement, but we’ve seen the back of the house before and it doesn’t look like there’s enough space there for a whole other room full of staircase. observe:

not to mention Neil’s headlights are illuminating a perfectly good door to the basement right there, although idk shit about houses with basements. do they usually have two ways down if they’re built like this? I wouldn’t know, I live on a fault-line. we don’t do that shit here.

ANYWAY, that’s the house. somehow I feel like I’ve covered like way too much, and also not nearly enough, so do let me know if anything isn’t clear and I’ll try to fix it/do an additional post and link that. cause even if most of us are writing Billy living outside of Old Cherry Road/Cherry Lane at this point, this kind of shit is always handy to have around, at least imo?

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove reference #stranger things reference #fanfic reference

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palettepainter · 3 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons on when Ecto and Higari got together or when they were younger?

Yep! Here are some

-I mentioned in a post with Higari’s family that Higari left for the city at 16 to go on UA’s support course. With him being raised in the country and the family still recovering from the passing of his dad Higari was very nervous and hesitant when he first joined UA. He was the awkward one in class, the outcast, he knew little to nothing about city life, the only thing he did know was his Uncle’s home (I have yet to draw out his uncle but hopefully can soon) where he was staying while studying at UA. I imagine Powerloader probably got bullied a little, being the shy quite kid he got unwanted attention, it never escalated to Higari getting seriously hurt, it was mostly stuff like name calling, throwing paper at him in class, people taking his seat, the worst it ever got was when he started to get pushed over in the hallways. With Higari still being emotional over his dads death lead to him lashing out, which then resulted in him getting in trouble. The bullying didn’t help Higari in classes either, and his anxiety made him forget things more easily, and his grades gradually began to drop.

-Ectoplasm on the other hand was the total opposite. I have my own headcannon for his parents and I don’t want to spoil too much, but basically his parents where very well off money wise and work in the music industry, hence why Ecto has a love for singing - they weren’t millionaires by any means, but they where well know for their occupations and thus had plenty of money. Because of this Ectoplasm was considered somewhat famous among his classmates, and maaaybe a teenie part of him enjoyed the attention at first. Unlike Higari Ectoplasm had a large social circle and was good at talking with people, though he never really felt like he had a propper close friend. With his parents again being well known and quite wealthy, Ectoplasm was never sure if someone was friends with him because they genuinely wanted to be, or because his family was wealthy. Ectoplasm in reality was also pretty lonely, but he’d accepted that making friends would always be difficult with who his parents where, so sadly, he’d come to accept the fact he may not ever really get a proper friend. He covers up his loneliness by studying, it helps him focus on something, and helps his grades improove - a win win. Ectoplasm didn’t really focus much on making friends during UA..until he meets a ginger haired support course kid in the library

-Their first meeting was very brief: Higari had gone to the library to try and find a book on mechanics and engineering to prepare for the end of year test that was coming up in a few months, if Higari failed to pass he could get booted from the course. Ectoplasm unlike Higari was a high achieving student, and Higari was one of the lowest. Ectoplasm who has finished collecting the books he needs walks past, sees Higari struggling to reach a book (curse his shortness), and so Ecto walks over and picks up the book for him. Higari timidly thanks him, before Ectoplasm nods and then walks away. It was the first real time Higari has actually had any kindness shown to him, so the memory of that day has stuck with him. Ectoplasm didn’t think too much on it, he just helped out, no big deal.

-The two reunite however during an class exercise a few days later, the hero course students would be paired with a student from the support course - the aim of the exercise was for the support course students to design a support item for their hero student they where paired with, and then present it as their final project. Higari was more confident in making things rather then paper tests, so he had a bit of confidence going into the exercise. Right before the pairs have been picked Higari notices Ectoplasm standing with the rest of the hero course students, and how a lot of the people from his class seem to be looking/whispering about him. Higari had never been in the city before and so knew nothing about Ecto’s wealth, he just figured Ecto must have been pretty popular. While the pairs are being picked, Higari hopes he won’t be paired with someone mean...and surprise surprise, he ends up being paired with Ectoplasm. For the rest of the day the students are given time to know their partner, and then discuss ideas for a support course item. Higari recognizes Ecto as the kid from the library a couple of days back but is to shy to bring it up, he probably forgot about him anyway. The two introduce themselves, and thats when Ecto makes the comment on how Higari looked familiar. Higari was a bit flattered he’d been remembered, and it gave him another confidence boost to explain the library meeting the two had. Ectoplasm thinks for a moment, before realizing Higari was the kid he helped out at the library a few days ago. From their things go pretty well, Higari finds it easy to talk to Ecto once he’s found his confidence and Ectoplasm is very patient. Ectoplasm propses the two meet up at lunch time to talk about the project, and Higari can only nod eagerly (he always ate alone at lunch, so the idea of someone wanting him to sit with them made him happy, even if it was jus to discuss a school project)

Higari ends up going home feeling a little better then he did before

-Days pass and Ectoplasm is surprised at just how quickly Higari was able to design a potential support item for him, maybe even a bit impressed at his speed, While Ectoplasm trained Higari watched, studying his attack style so he could work on an item to help him. It was obvious in the first few days of Higari watching his fighting style that Ecto liked using his legs to attack, and thus Higari designed a support item that would not only protect Ecto’s leg from sustaining damage, but also strength his kicks. Higari first showed him his initial sketches at lunch time, where he ended up going on in a bit of a tangent, for all of two minutes, before he suddenly went quite. Ectoplasm wanted to ask why he’d all of a sudden stopped, he hadn’t lost interest or anything, but Higari, saying he had nothing more to say, hurriedly leaves with a nervous glance over his shoulder to Ecto. The same kind of situation happened three more times, Higari would say something smart and then suddenly pipe down for no reason. On the fourth time it happened Ecto finally asked what was wrong. Higari insists it’s nothing, and Ectoplasm - not believing him - asks again. Higari as a kid is not used to opening up to friends since...well, he didn’t have any. But in the end, he tells Ecto. He admits how some other kids at UA tease him for being so nerdy about engineering, and so he just learnt to keep his mouth shut. If he gave them nothing to tease him over, then they couldn’t pick on him. Better to be quite then bullied he figured. Ectoplasm offers him reassurance, saying he doesn’t mind if Higari rambles, and that he was honestly interested in the project and what Higari had to say if he felt like it was important. Higari may have been a little awe struck, he’d never had anyone aside from family listen to him babble, so Ectoplasm, someone who might as well have been a stranger, telling him it was totally okay for him to nerd out and ramble was new

but oh BOY did he ramble, Ectoplasm may not have understood half of what he was saying, but he listened regardless.

-Their friendship begins to grow from their, Higari feels at ease around Ecto, maybe he gets a little clingy with him but that’s all because Ecto to him was his first friend. Ectoplasm begins to view him less as just a project partner as more as a friend, and in seeing Higari light up about mechanics he too feels happy. Alas neither of the two have the courage to ask the other round for dinner or meet up outside of school - Higari was too shy to ask someone like Ecto, a popular kid, to hang out. And Ectoplasm didn’t want Higari to find out about his parents wealth and then view him differently. So many times Ecto’s ‘friends’ has really just been interested in him because of the money his parents made, and he didn’t want to ruin what he now had with Higari. In the end the universe forced them to hang out - Ecto usually hung around at school even after the day was over, he liked walking home in piece, but on this particular day Ecto didn’t have his umbrella and it was raining. Hard. He rushes home, getting thoroughly soaked in the process and is chilled to the bone by the time he reaches the bus stop. Ten minutes pass, he’s still freezing cold, and then Higari walks past. Higari didn’t even recognize Ecto at first, with how soaking wet and miserable he looked. Ecto brushes off Higari’s worrying when the smaller by notices how Ecto is starting to shiver, and says he’ll be fine when the bus arrives. It took a bit of time for Higari to speak, but after finding his voice he timidly asks if Ecto wants to wait out the rain at his place - it’s not that far from here, and he’d at least be warm. Ectoplasm thanks him for the offer but declines, but quickly agrees when a giant bolt of lightning lit up the sky and the rain fell down harder. Higari leads Ectoplasm back to his Uncles home, where Ectoplasm is practically dripping with water.

Ecto tries to tell Higari that he’s fine, but Higari is already dragging him inside and throwing a towel over him. Higari’s uncle was a bit surprised when Higari brought a friend back home (he knew Higari struggled with socializing) but was over the moon none the less, he was terrible at hiding how happy he was and quickly made Ecto a hot drink. Ten minutes later Ecto, now slightly warmer then before, is standing in Hiargi’s room with a towel wrapped round his shoulders as Higari tries to dry of Ecto’s school books on his radiator. Higari’s room is small and doesn’t have a lot of stuff aside from the usual bedroom things: bed, cupboard, desk, beanbag and a window. When Higari moved down into the city he didn’t bring all that much stuff to decorate his new room, just stuff like clothes and other personal belongings. The only real decoration themed stuff he had where tiny model cars sitting on his window sill. Higari notices Ecto staring, and apologizes if the model cars are too nerdy. Ectoplasm shakes his head, saying that his dad had a few model cars around his home. The two get to talking, filling the silence with conversation, it was the first conversation the two had that wasn’t school related. Higari opens up a bit about his family and siblings, telling Ecto a bunch of stories from his home back in the country while Ecto eagerly listens. Ecto was and still is a single child so never had any sibling issues growing up, never had to share anything, or fight over the TV, so he found Higari’s stories interesting. Higari felt bad for just talking about himself so he eventually asked Ecto about his family. Ecto still didn’t want to tell Higari that his parents where pretty well know, so instead said that it was just him, his mum and dad - which wasn’t a lie. After Ecto had dried off and warmed up, he hurried on home, Higari insisting he take his umbrella, he could just return it at school tomorrow.

Ectoplasm leaves with a big smile on his face.

-Higari eventually found out about Ecto’s parents half way through their project. Ecto had started going round HIgari’s after school so the two could discuss the support item’s design and how it could be made. Ecto’s parents noticed the change in their sons behaviour, how he’d always seem more happy after returning how from this mysterious friends house. After Ecto returned home after being soaked with rain he explained to his slightly worried parents where he’d been. His parents decided that it might be time for Ecto to introduce this Higari friend of his, so they plan to invite him round for dinner - despite how Ecto felt nervous about the idea. Higari was very flustered when Ecto asked him round for dinner, at this point Higari was maybe starting to get a little smitten for Ecto, but he fiercely denied it. Higari enthusiastically accepts after his shock, and spends the rest of the day trying to prepare his most smartest outfit. The next day after school he goes round to Ecto’s home, where his parents greet him. Ecto’s parents, more so his dad, was very nosing in the teasing sense with Ecto so was very eager to meet this new friend Ecto seemed so happy about. Ecto hoped Higari wouldn’t comment on how posh everything looked, but he noticed. Higari felt a little out of place in such a fancy looking home, and even commented on how fancy everything looked. The truth comes out at dinner, where Higari comments on all the framed music posters Ecto had around the home, to which his parents then admit that the family has always been big in the music industry. Ecto at this point is half sinking in his chair because NOW his parents have moved on to tell childhood stories from when he was little, that Higari eagerly listened too. At the end of the meal and after Higari goes home Ecto sulks to his room, ignoring his parents who ask whats wrong. Ecto is hesitant to approach Higari, knowing that he’ll just ask a lot of questions all about his parents and their music careers. Higari notices how Ecto is avoiding him, and is worried maybe he did something wrong. One day he manages to catch Ecto just before he leaves the lunch hall, the two are alone in the hallway and Higari shyly asks why he’s been avoiding him - where Ecto then snaps.

He knows his parents are cool, he knows having rich parents is cool, he knows that Higari is going to ask so many questions about them, he knows Higari is going to ask if Ecto could get them an autograph. Everyone always asked about his prefect parents, and he was so tired of it!

After Ecto has vented out his frustrations he sighs and turns to leave, but before he can Higari quickly rushes infront of him. Higari says he doesn’t care if Ecto’s parents are rich, he likes spending time with him because he enjoyed his company, no other reason. Higari hadn’t even heard of the music his parents made until they named some during dinner. Ecto raises a brow, still suspicious but still desperately wanting to believe Higari. Higari begins to panic, not sure what to do, in the end he does the first thing that comes to his mind and asks Ecto to meet him after school tomorrow. Before Ecto can ask why Higari has already rushed off, leaving Ecto very confused.

-One day later after school and Ecto and Higari are standing outside Ecto’s favourite karaoke place. Ecto asks how Higari knew this was his favorite place, and Higari shyly admits he remembered Ecto mentioning it once. Ecto blinks down at hi, he remembered? The two are pretty awkward when they first enter the karaoke room together, unable to make eye contact. Higari insists Ecto pick the first song, not like he knew anything about music anyway. Ecto is a bit shy at first, he’d never sang to anyone other then his parents, but Higari is patient as Ecto looks through the different songs. After finding one of his favorite songs and listening to the first few lyrics Ecto eventually found his voice and started singing. He wasn’t sure when he’d started dancing but when the song finished he was no longer sitting - Higari stares wide eyed, and Ecto feels blush come to his face. When Higari starts clapping his hands Ecto hurries back to his seat, but manages to stutter a flattered thank you. The end up having a blast, Ecto even got Higari to sing a little (they may have danced a bit more too). By the time the two head home it’s dark, but they exchange numbers and head home, Ecto realizing that Higari is in fact, a true friend.

-As for when they got together, it took them ages to finally become a thing. Higari was the first to develop a crush and Ecto despite being smart was a total oblivious idiot to Higari’s affections. The two finish their end of year project with a pass, Higari getting a high grade for the support item he designed and, thanks to Ecto, got a high enough mark on his paper test to pass. When they graduate the two temporarily move into an apartment together, but soon Ecto’s hero career picks up and he eventually moves out - Higari was sad he had to go but didn’t want to hold him back, they talked when they could with both having busy careers, it was only after Ecto suffered the loss of his legs did their relationship begin. Higari was one of the first people aside from his parents that got to see Ecto in the hospital. Higari is prepared for Ecto to vent, to yell..he’s not prepared when Ecto just grabs him into a hug and cries. Higari is there to comfort him and support him through recovery. With Ecto needing assistant he moves back in with Higari in his apartment when he’s discharged from the hospital - Higari is there to witness the sadness, the anger, the self hatred, and he’s there to offer a shoulder to cry on when Ecto needs an outlet. One day Ecto tells Higari he’s thinking about retiring from being a hero, with his leg gone there wasn’t much he could do, and the prosthetics he’d been shown at the hospital weren’t build for combat. It crushes Higari seeing Ecto look so defeated and miserable, so much that he pulls out the old school project designs he made, and redesigns them into combat suitable prostethics. Higari spent many days at his work desk perfecting the design, making sure they where perfect. He’d been with Ecto through his physical therapy and rehab, he knew Ecto’s fighting style better then anyone else, and finally finishes. When he presents the prosthetics to his doctors and after they’ve been approved as safe they allow Ecto to try them out. They’re a bit hard to get used too, as he’s gotten used to the other prosthetics the hospital gave him. He’s a bit wobbly, and fell over a few times in the beginning. But after trying training again, something he hadn’t done since his injury, they work like a charm. Seeing Ecto happy for the first time in ages makes Higari smile, he’s so busy praising Ecto that once again is caught off guard when Ecto pulls him into a tight hug, thanking him over and over - Higari hugged back, some happy tears may have been shed

-After Ecto has his new prosthetics Ecto buys a bigger house for the two to live in, mostly so that if his prosthetics for some reason broke, Higari would be able to fix them quickest. But it was also becasue Ecto was starting to get a little crush on his old school friend. I’m not really sure how they two would announce they’re dating, it just sorta...happened. They where both shy and a little awkward at first when it came to kissing, but they’ve got the hang of it now!

Some other small notes~~

-Ecto wanting to become a hero was at first a sort of rebellion thing. He got tired of friends always asking about his parents and their career, so when it came to choosing a course he picked the hero course, not wanting to be apart of his parents music career. Jokes on him cuz in the end Ecto ended up liking the idea of helping other people by being a hero, and his parents where supportive

-When Ectoplasm told his parents he and Higari where dating his parents admitted that they thought Higari and Ecto had been dating since their time at UA. And despite Higari’s worries Ecto’s parents like him

-I’ll draw his dad out eventually but Ecto’s dad spoiled the crap out of Ecto. Both Higari and Ecto had fun loving dads while their mothers where more serious. Ecto’s dad was ready and prepared for when Ecto brought a girl or boy home, he’s got a tone of baby photos of Ecto and he’s ready to embarrass him (which he did when Higari came over years later, Higari was very amused)

-With Ecto and Higari both being teachers at UA and not wanting to draw villains attention, they had a small private wedding with some close work/school friends and their parents. The real celebration began when Ecto, Higari and their friends from UA all went out to karaoke to celebrate. Everyone got drunk

#Ectoloader #Ectoplasm #Powerloader #Headcannons

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dyde21 · 3 years

Text

Learning 2

Read on AO3 HERE

Summary: MJ is worried about Peter, and when she goes to check on him the next day she finds things are worse than she feared. Now can she help him see he needs help?

Michelle Jones was a bit scared by how easy it was to love Peter. What had started out as a simple fascination with an honest nerd with a bright smile turned into a school girl crush, and ended up with them falling in love and being happily together in college. Growing up, MJ never expected herself to end up in a gushy romance story. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she would fall in love, she just figured she’d be older and have a more mature, graceful descent into it.

But life didn’t care about her plans and she found herself lost in Peter’s smiles and safe in his arms. Something she honestly never expected was that her boyfriend would be an actual superhero. That really was less of throwing a wrench in her plans as much as blowing them up all together. But she was Michelle Fucking Jones. She could handle it. She’d learn, make a plan, and deal with it just like everything else in her life.

It definitely wasn’t easy at times. Having to learn basic first aid to help treat him when he stumbled into her apartment beat half to death, learning to keep up to date on all sorts of crazy villains so she could help him when he needed it, whether or not he asked for it. Having to accept that choosing to stay with him meant that there would be an unfortunate number of missed dates, or early departures. A constant worry that he might face a threat he wouldn’t be able to overcome, and the acceptance that her life may be thrown in the crosshairs eventually too.

But that didn’t matter to MJ. Not as much as he did. The way he listened to and absorbed every word she said, earnestly caring about what she was passionate about. The way he did his absolute best to be there for her when he was able to, and almost never blamed her for being upset with him. The way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed, or he’d see past her harsh words or thinly veiled lies to see what she truly meant and was scared to say. His understanding of her defensive habits built up from a rough childhood, and his patience to get through her walls. The way he gave himself for the city, while never asking for anything in return even when he deserved so much more than he had.

Her biggest gripe with him was probably that he tried to shoulder everything on his own. He had lost so much in his life, and she knew he felt like if he tried to reach out too much for someone, he’d only lose them too. He didn’t care about taking care of himself because there was always someone else he could help first, and he saw that as more important. She admired how selfless he was, but it also frustrated her because it went beyond being humble into being neglectful of himself and harmful. But he didn’t seem to be able to accept that fact no matter how hard they all tried to get it into his head. It hurt to be with someone like that, especially because of how much she loved him. But Michelle Jones was not a quitter, and nothing was going to get in the way of them. Not her own defensive nature or his self destructive habits, they’d learn together.

When she heard a knock on her door early on Saturday, her first thought was to look around the room to find a blunt object to bludgeon them with in return. Pulling down the hood of Peter’s hoodie that she had stolen, and needed to replace soon because it was losing his smell, she shuffled her way to the door.

Opening it, she was surprised to see her golden retriever of a boyfriend standing there looking shocked that she answered the door. She realized it had been the first time she had seen his face since he had bailed on their dinner to fight the Rhino. She couldn’t help the flash of frustration that boiled up. She had gone into the night expecting to be disappointed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting when she had to send him off to save the city.

She knew, she knew perfectly that he really didn’t want to leave. She saw him starting to resign himself to staying with her. But she also knew that if someone died because they were having dinner, it’d destroy him on the inside, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty too. Reasonably she also knew that it wasn’t their fault. Neither of them had an obligation to drop everything, always, to deal with every problem. It was impossible to solve crime in New York completely. But she also knew he had to try, so she had sent him off and tried not to let the disappointment sting too much as she paid for the dinner and left, head hung high in defiance.

Then she saw his face though. The way his cheeks seemed a little more sunken, his beautiful brown eyes seeming just a little bit dimmer. Beyond just nerves, he was seeming even more ragged lately, and she doubted it was just because of the dinner. She felt concern growing in her chest at his state. But she was at least glad to see him. She really did miss seeing him, even if they were busy. Even when they were tense around each other, the first person she always wanted to go to for comfort was him.

“Hi.” She offered, seeing as he was still seemingly reeling from being pulled out of whatever internal spiral he had found himself in.

“U-uh hi. Yeah. I just…” He rambled, making her raise an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“I’m kinda busy.” She said, before wincing. That didn’t come out right. She knew he came over here to properly apologize, and probably had something else to tell her. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome, she just had a lot of studying left to do, and the lack of sleep and stress had made her snappy but she didn’t want him to think she was still angry about the dinner. That fight wasn’t worth it, and she had been the one to give him permission to go instead of making him choose between them that night. Ugh, emotions sucked sometimes.

“Right! I know.” He cleared his throat. “I know. I promise I’m not here to bother you. I just… here.”

Peter offered her one of her thermos he had borrowed one night. She took a sip a bit confused until she felt the familiar taste of her current favorite tea. She couldn’t help but smile as she knew he remembered her favorite tea, even if she had a habit of changing it monthly. He still always listened and committed it to memory as if her preferences were something he needed to know more than the material for his midterms.

“Also these. And an apology. I’m really sorry. I know I say that a lot. And it sucks. But I am.” Peter added as MJ found two boxes shoved into her arms too. Looking down, she was surprised as she saw they were boxes of that tea as well. Even when things had been tense, he still went out of his way to bring her a thoughtful gift he really didn’t have to. She wasn’t even waiting for an apology or some sort of peace offering. He had apologized plenty before and after he had left, but he still felt determined to make up the perceived slight to her.

She saw his gaze fall to the floor and she could practically see the crushing guilt he felt for literally saving people’s lives. He really was too kind for this stupid city that did nothing but chew him up and spit him back out. Moving forward, she tilted his chin up after moving her thermos to her other hand and shared a kiss with him.

After the kiss, he stared at her with that adorable slightly dazed expression he always had after they kissed. “I know you have work so I won’t distract you. I just… wanted to give you a little care package, and say I know you’ll rock this. I can proofread your article if you need me to too. Or just to get an opinion.”

Jesus, how did she end up with someone so sweet? He knew she was busy, despite being incredibly busy himself, and just wanted to support her without getting in her way. He also knew she liked getting a second opinion on her writing, and wanted to be there for her despite everything on his plate. Moments like these made her want to ask Stark for a suit just so she could beat up anyone who would dare hurt this man, just so she could keep him safe and give him the world.

“Thanks, Tiger.” She said. She couldn’t get past how ragged he looked though. The bags under his eyes were getting worse and his shoulders were sumping lower than they usually did. “Are you okay though?” She asked as she reached out to gently turn his jaw to get a better look at his profile. What normally made her heart flutter (he was very pretty) was now just making her concerned. His cheekbones weren’t normally this pronounced either, she had sketched them enough times to know for sure.

“Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like shit.” She called him out, reading his expression to look for any of the rather obvious tells he had for lying. It really was a miracle more people didn’t know his identity because he sucked at lying. Or she had just spent too long staring at his face that she could read him like he was her favorite book. (He was)

“Oh, ouch.” She rolled her eyes, that little shit. He knew exactly what she meant. “Midterms.” Peter brushed off her concerns with a shrug. “Happens to us all. I mean you always look beautiful. But you also look a little less beautiful. Only stunningly gorgeous today.”

He had the audacity to look smug while trying to flatter his way out of her interrogation. No matter how sweet he was, she wasn’t that stupid. She gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make myself look nice hoping you’d drop by unannounced.” She replied in a dry tone. “But Gwen and I are making sure we take care of each other. You’re still living alone since Ned moved in with Betty. I’m worried.”

MJ was straightforward like always, knowing beating around the bush with Peter didn’t usually lead anywhere. They resolved things better when they got straight to the point, that’s how they functioned as a couple. Peter would be too flighty if you let him when he was trying to hide something. His solution to hiding something was to leave, which always only made it more glaringly obvious.

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta get a lot done this weekend. Then I’ll rest next week sometime. Maybe we can have a night in, no suit, no alerts.” He said with one of the fake smiles MJ hated. She hated seeing him bottle up what he was feeling, and she was pretty sure even he knew she wasn’t fooled by them.

But she was also a little startled by the desperation she could see in his eyes. She was used to seeing some sort of exhaustion, all college students had it. Even the non-super powered ones. But this almost scared her a little. Like the light in his eyes was flickering out and he was desperately searching for something to hold onto. A sort of lifeline to keep him going.

“Yeah. Sounds nice. I’d like that.” She said, honestly meaning that. She wasn't sure if they’d actually get to have that night, but she was desperate to give him the comfort he so clearly needed right now.

She leaned in for another kiss when her eyes saw his collarbones. “Pete, you need to eat. You’re losing weight again.” She scolded. She had also drawn his collarbones to know that they weren’t usually that pronounced either. (She drew him a lot, okay?)

She could see his own walls starting to form as he was rejecting the truth he was running from. That he needed help, like every person on this freaking planety did. “I will! I bought stuff today.” he offered, and MJ was not impressed.

“I can’t wait to read your article. You better send it to me!” With that he was off down the hallway, leaving MJ to watch him leave and lean against the doorway with a sigh. Her thoughts were now on him, and she could tell he was falling into a rut again. This happened occasionally when everything in his life seemed to pile on.

Stepping back in, she set the tea down and texted Ned.

Peter just brought me a gift and offered to help me with work. Lemme know if our little santa shows up at your place next.

There was a beat before Ned responded.

Oh shit, is he doing rounds again? He’s not Mr.Stark he can’t afford to give gifts every time he’s stressed.

MJ knew that was true and walked back over to her work station, chewing her lip. Stressed out Peter around midterms was bad. But he was also left alone now, which meant it was even easier for him to push everyone away with his bad habits. MJ knew she had to talk to him tomorrow, check in just to make sure he was actually okay. Even if just for her sanity. She’d really rather find out she was reading too much into the situation and be wrong, than realize she was right.

But that meant she had to finish her work tonight, so she could focus on him properly tomorrow. She didn’t moonlight as a vigilante, and she was a good student, so she was actually not too worried about her midterms, she had been studying properly. She just had to finish this article and she’d be good. Though some of that credit went to Gwen cause while it kinda sucked to keep yourself on track, it was easy to keep someone else focused so they worked together this term.

When she got the text from Ned a little later, that he had indeed shown up, MJ felt more fear creep into her heart. That meant he was doing his rounds. This wasn’t just thoughtful Peter, this was panicked Peter. She just hoped he would take care of himself and get through this weekend in one piece.

MJ had to employ every trick in her book to stay focused to get through the article and not let her day be wasted worrying about Peter. There wasn’t much she could do right now, other than set herself up to be in a good position to help him.

When she finally heard Gwen come home a little later she looked up and offered a smile.

Gwen turned, one earbud in as she sang along to the music in her ears. A song her boyfriend Miles had shown her recently she recognized. She paused when she saw MJ, and her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with Peter?” Gwen asked, setting down her stuff and moving to sit across from MJ.

Scowling at being read so easily, she crossed her arms a bit defiantly. “What do you mean?” She asked, just to be a little difficult.

Gwen rolled her eyes, not impressed with MJ’s show of bravado. “You have your Peter scowl on.” She explained simply.

“I don’t have a Peter scowl.” MJ replied.

In return, Gwen gave MJ the flattest look she had ever seen on the girl. “You’re chewing your lip, your shoulders are hunched and you keep glancing at your phone. You wouldn’t look at the phone if it had to do with your work, and Peter would be over here too if it had to do with Ned. Seeing as I haven’t gotten any major news updates it means Peter’s not kicking butt right now either, which meant something is wrong with him.” Gwen reasoned annoyingly well.

MJ just sighed. “I hate you sometimes.”

Gwen shrugged, a cheerful smile on her face. “You’re not that complicated once someone gets to know you. But what’s up, is he okay?” Gwen asked, leaning forward.

MJ thought about being stubborn for a little longer, but realized she was just being moody because she was in fact worried about Peter. “I don’t know. He’s doing his rounds again.” MJ said, motioning to the tea boxes on the counter.

Gwen looked over before she sighed. “Ah, I see.”

It turned out Gwen and Peter got along pretty well, and she had joined the Friends of Spider-man club pretty quickly. In true Parker fashion, it had been an accident. He had climbed into her window one night after a fight with the vulture, half dead and bleeding. Gwen had heard the thump and MJ’s freaking out, and came to investigate. The blonde had thought she was killing Spider-man until she saw who it was with his mask off. Since then, MJ was actually grateful she had someone else to freak out with when stuck watching the news during a nasty fight, or someone she could openly complain to when it came to the more difficult aspects of dating a superhero.

Peter had apologized about potentially putting Gwen in danger by knowing and Gwen shut that shit down hard, scolding him almost as bad as MJ had about not getting to choose whether she stays involved with him for her. That was when Gwen had cemented herself as MJ’s number one female friend.

Gwen leaned back on the chair, twirling her hair as she thought through the situation. “I assume May is okay?”

MJ nodded. “He doesn’t hide stuff like that. If she was sick he would have told us straight up. I don’t think it’s Avengers related either. He’s gotten better about telling us when he can’t give us specifics.”

Gwen nodded, sighing. “Maybe it’s just midterms? We’re all kind of a mess right now.”

MJ sighed, running her hand through her hair with frustration. “Maybe. I don’t know. He hasn’t been sleeping and he’s lost a lot of weight. Again. The idiot is also trying to hide it.”

Rolling her eyes, Gwen stood up. “Like he’s good at hiding things.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at MJ. “Come on, you need a break. I’ll order some chinese food, you choose a movie. You’re not going to get any work done like this, and I’m putting off studying.” She replied cheerfully, making MJ laugh.

“Fine. Fine.” MJ reletened, saving her almost done article and closing her laptop. She needed a distraction and to process the new problem in her mind so she could get back on track.

By the time Gwen had finished ordering their usual MJ had chosen a movie and was curled up on one end of the couch, clutching the pillow close as she stared at the TV.

“Aww, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” Gwen said, sitting on the opposite end and nudging MJ’s thigh with her foot.

Returning fire with a confused look, MJ tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Pointing at the pillow MJ was clutching to her chest, Gwen waited.

Looking down, MJ saw that she was clutching the Spider-man throw pillow Gwen had gotten her as a joke gift for her birthday after she found out about Peter. Petulantly, she turned her head back towards the movie, but made no attempt to hug the pillow less. She did however scowl when Gwen’s laughter rang out.

When her phone let out the jingle set only to Spidey news, her heart sank. “He’s not stupid enough to go out this weekend, right? He has midterms and he looked like he was barely holding himself together. He’s not that fucking stupid, right?” MJ asked herself mostly as she dove for her phone. Sure enough news reports of Spidey fighting the Rhino were at the top of her notifications.

“I’m gonna kill him.” MJ said, glancing at Gwen who had already paused their movie and was turning on the news.

Gwen winced as she saw Rhino throw the car at him. “Looks like you might have to get in line.”

“GWEN!” MJ shrieked at her, still staring at the screen.

“Sorry, wrong time.” Gwen offered, her eyes glued to the shaky footage.

They both gasped as Peter was slammed against the wall by the car then the Rhino and from the helicopter footage there was a heart-stopping moment where it looked like he had been impaled. Before MJ could even begin to process that horrible reality Peter had kicked him off and continued the fight.

When Rhino was finally down MJ felt like she had lost another year to her life. “He’s so freaking stupid. I’m switching majors and becoming an architect so I can build him a special prison so he can stay there and be safe. I’ll build him a fucking jungle gym so he can still feel like Spider-man if he wants to. I’m never letting him go out into the fucking streets again.” MJ ranted as Gwen rubbed her back.

Then they saw the cops pointing guns at Spider-man and MJ was on her feet. “Are you serious? The fucking cops are going to shoot Spider-man because they can’t do their goddamn jobs? That they have to let a student clean up the messes they can’t with their defense fund of a budget in this freaking city?”

Gwen stayed silent. Her dad was a cop, and she knew most of the cops did like Spidey, but she also knew that orders were orders. She was also aware MJ was still in one of her spidey-panics and not actually looking for a calm rational debate about police funding.

Luckily they watched Peter vanish and they switched back to the movie, Gwen stealing glances occasionally as she saw MJ slowly come down from the rush. They finished their movie and food and both went back to work.

By the time MJ had finished her first draft of the article she felt like she had calmed down. She knew Peter would be back from patrol by now, and hopefully eating and taking a rest so she sent him a text.

Saw the alert. You okay?

She knew he was probably fine if he hadn’t come crawling in her window asking for help. Which was good news. But she also always wanted to just pull him into a hug and keep him safe after she saw him on the news which she didn’t get to do when he was back at his place.

I’m fine. Nothing broken this time. Promise. Was his response. She stared at it for a moment, as if the text on the screen would reveal more information if she intimidated it enough. She was pretty sure he was telling the truth this time at least. “Nothing broken, he says.” She relayed to Gwen, who let out a sigh of relief.

You better not be lying. Wanna read my article? Are you caught up on midterms?

She responded, already pulling open an email to send it to him. She knew his response before he even typed it.

Yeah, doing surprisingly well. I can use a break. Send it over.

Thanks, Tiger. She responded and stared at the body of the email, debating what to say.

Part of her wanted to scold him for going out when he had so much on his plate. Wanted to tell him he was being reckless. Another part wanted to praise him and leave him a sweet message. Hopefully give him something to smile about when he saw the message after the long fight, but that felt too cheesy.

She typed some stuff, staring at the blinking cursor.

Here’s the essay. Lemme know your thoughts. Make sure you drink water tonight, and go shower. I know you’re lazy about it after patrol.

She chewed her lip, hovering over the send button. Was she too pushy?

“Oh my god, just hit send.” Gwen said, not even looking up from her own laptop.

Reflexively MJ hit the send button before she even realized she was. “How did you know?”

“Because if you stared any harder at the laptop without typing anything it was going to catch on fire.” Gwen said, only glancing up to give her a smug smirk before looking back down.

MJ flipped her off, which Gwen cheerfully returned.

Managing to review a few chapters from the notes she had, she finally got the email back from Peter. Scanning through it, she couldn’t help the smirk on her features. Sometimes fighting crime in spandex and geeking out over the newest electronic thing Tony made made MJ forget how smart Peter was in other fields as well. His points were well reasoned, and his critiques honest but fair. She found herself agreeing with pretty much every point he made, and almost felt dumb she didn’t catch them herself.

“I take it he sent back useful notes?”

“Stop reading me, Gwen.”

“Then make it at least a little bit of a challenge.”

MJ just scowled but texted Peter.

Thanks Tiger, you’re the best. You actually made good points, I’m impressed. Need me to check over your essay?

She couldn’t help the smile as she doodled a little spider in the corner of her notebook, spinning a web in the shape of a heart.

It still needs some work before I can show it to anyone. I’m good, thanks though. Love you. Her phone buzzed.

This made MJ frown again. “Needs some work” was his slang for not done at all. He wasn’t shy about showing her unpolished writing. He was shy about showing unfinished writing. That meant he was behind. And he still went out fucking patrolling. MJ threw her pen down, leaning her head back and rubbing her face. Was he trying to stress her out or was that a natural gift that came with the spider bite. That meant she needed to make sure he actually got some help with his essay tomorrow so he could get some much needed sleep.

Love you too. Get some sleep, okay? I know the Rhino is annoying and I saw you get hit with that car. I can help you study tomorrow so get some sleep. She practically ordered him. She knew the chances were slim, but she hoped just once he’d be a good little spider and listen to her when she was making sense.

You still have studying to do too, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. So much for that. She couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t end up with them arguing with each other over text so she just set her phone down. His inability to accept help was seriously a problem and she was going to have to confront him about it after midterms. She’d drag in the whole FoS group if she needed to, because this wasn’t healthy. She knew he knew better, and she really didn’t want to date someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. Especially when she knew he could, but wouldn’t. That was the most frustrating part of it.

Gwen must have read she was at her wits end because she closed both of their laptops. “That’s enough for tonight. You look like you’re about to kidnap Peter yourself and I stopped caring about my grades about an hour ago so we should sleep. Tomorrow we can figure out how to download the latest update of common sense into Peter, okay?”

MJ nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Gwen.” She got up and pulled her friend into a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwen returned it and shrugged. “Either kill Peter, or kidnap him and put him in a zoo for safety, probably.”

MJ laughed. “We have some unused space here. We could build a nice little enclosure for him.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know whenever he’s over here he stays in your bedroom.”

MJ flushed red. “Shut up!”

Gwen just laughed and walked away, waving her hands as she disappeared into her room.

MJ made sure the apartment was locked up safely before she went to her bed, pulling the little Spider-man plushy she had gotten to see the reaction Peter would make when he saw it a little closer, and was out within minutes.

XxXxXxXxX

The next morning MJ found herself making the trek to his apartment. She had her backpack with her work in it, one of his favorite coffees and some bagels for breakfast. She thought it might be a little early, but also knew that he was probably already up because he was allergic to sleep even when he didn’t have nightmares. What she didn’t expect to see when she made her way up to his floor though was a couple of neighbors standing nervously in the hallway.

She approached a little faster. She quickly made her way to his door, knocking on it. “Peter?”

She tried knocking again when one of his neighbors approached. “You’re his girlfriend right. Is he okay? We heard shouting and a loud crash.” They said a bit nervously. MJ’s heart kicked into overdrive. Peter almost never shouted and crashing in a superhero’s house usually meant very bad things.

“PETER!” She called out, fishing out his spare key he had given her and unlocked the door, closing it behind her to keep out prying eyes just in case.

Setting down her bag, she looked around and felt her stomach sink lower and lower with each thing she saw. His place was a disaster, but it didn’t look like a fight had happened. It just looked like a mess. But even just a messy apartment, it was worse.

Then she saw the pan sticking out of the broken cabinet and she gasped. Peter never abused his super strength. He was also so careful with it, always terrified of hurting or breaking things.

She finally found him next to the counter on the ground, violently shaking and she could see the tears streaming down his face. “Peter?”

“MJ…” His voice sounded so broken she felt her throat tighten at the sound and it terrified her to her core. Even injured she had seen him with more life than this. She rushed over to his side, trying to find any injuries before she touched him but he seemed fine physically.

But this apartment… she saw the pile of trash, the dirty dishes, the laundry. This wasn’t a healthy space to live in, and was way worse than anything she had ever seen before. Peter was normally a bit of a mess, but all genius’ tended to be. This was different, this was scarier. They often said a person’s workspace is a reflection of who they are as a person, and she prayed that wasn’t true in this moment because she was terrified for Peter if it was.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she saw him, still shaking, still crying. MJ knew just how much he hated her seeing him like this, but he wasn’t even able to put up a front. Just what was going on?

“No…” His voice confessed and MJ pulled him into her chest, hugging him as tight as she could. She kissed the top of his hair, just holding him while he shook in her arms and she tried desperately to stay in control of herself.

How much did Peter have to be hurting to fall this far? What kind of hell was going on in his head that led him to this situation. A part of her wondered how she hadn’t noticed the signs earlier. What kind of girlfriend was she if she couldn’t even tell her boyfriend was falling apart at the seams?

She forced those thoughts deep down inside. Now was not the time to dwell on insecurities. Peter was falling apart right now and Goddamnit she was going to fix it. She was going to help him fix it himself. Peter needed help, and there was no force in the world that would stop her from getting him the help he needed. Whatever it was, whoever it neede to be, MJ vowed as she held her shaking boyfriend that she was going to make sure he got what he needed and what he fucking deserved.

But she needed a plan. This entire situation was almost overwhelming, but she had to get a grip on things right now. Help him get his feet underneath him, so they could start to rebuild.

“S-stove…” He choked out.

MJ nodded, kissing the top of his head one more time before she stood up and turned off the stove that was emanating heat. She felt his hand resting around her ankle, desperate for contact still and a lump formed in her throat. How the hell had he gotten so low without anyone noticing?

She crouched down next to him, seeing him shaking still. She recognized that too now. It wasn’t just sadness, he had gone into a full blown sensory overloaded, because of fucking course Peter wasn’t in enough hell right now.

“Peter…” She whispered as quiet as she could, knowing he would hear her just fine. “I’m going to turn off the lights then I’ll be right back.”

“I-I fi-” She cut him off with a brief kiss to the lips, staring directly into his eyes.

“I love you so much, Peter. But I swear to God you are not allowed to use that phrase for the next week or I’m putting on the Rhino outfit and kicking your ass myself.”

Thankfully her little threat got the tiny smile she was hoping for and she quickly made her way over to the light switch, flicking off all the lights in the apartment so only some light filtered in from the windows. She saw the pancake on the ground, and the plate on the edge and was able to piece together what had happened. She gently picked it up and set it on the plate before she sat down next to Peter again slowly wrapping an arm around him and letting him lean into her.

MJ could feel his fists balling up in her (his) sweater and he continued to sob into her shoulder. She whispered the quietest reassurances and just let him get it all out. She knew how cathartic a cry could be, and she wanted to just let him ride the wave and let out whatever had been building up for so long.

“It’s okay, Tiger. Let it all out. I got you. You don’t need to be strong right now. I got you.” She reaffirmed, kissing his head again.

MJ wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, and honestly she didn’t care. He needed her in that moment, and that was where she would be.

Eventually though it seemed like Peter was able to slowly piece himself back together enough for the sobbing to become occasional sniffles. He started to move back, but she held him in place for just a moment longer, not wanting him to rush into putting up any walls. They clearly needed to have a talk, and it was going to happen now.

Scooting over, she sat so she was in front of him, letting her legs spread on either side of his legs so they could sit opposite in the tiny area between the island and the counter.

He stared at her for a moment, and she saw him open his mouth once or twice to say something before he closed it.

She raised three fingers. “3 rules, okay?”

Peter seemed surprised, but a little grateful for her making the first move. He nodded after a moment, still quiet.

“Rule 1. No apologies. Not right now. I love you Peter, and I’m here to help. I know you feel bad, but you do not need to feel sorry for crying, or for needing my help. You can make it up to me later, deal?” She offered, watching his reaction very carefully. She knew Peter, and she was pretty sure what he needed right now was some structure and order. If she felt like her approach was wrong she’d stop immediately, but she slowly saw him nod.

“Okay.”

MJ beamed at him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. “Good. Rule 2. For the next week, you are not allowed to say the phrase ‘I’m fine.’ I don’t care if you are, in fact, fine. You can’t say that. Be more descriptive, and be honest. I won’t use that phrase either, deal?” She offered, waiting, watching.

He looked at her for a moment, before he nodded again, another small smile. “Okay.”

MJ grinned and reached over to hold his hand on the floor, entwining their fingers.

“Good. Rule 3. We’re talking. Right now. About everything we can. No running away, no getting mad, no assigning blame. Either of us. Nothing else matters right now. Not midterms. Not Spider-man. Not even the next season of the Great British Bake-off. Just us. Right here, right now. I’ll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Deal?” She asked.

She could see the battle in his eyes. The desperate struggle between asking for the help he needs, and his desire to avoid being a burden to others.

She waited patiently, but continued to squeeze his hand and beg him to reach out.

“Please, Tiger. Let me in.” She said softly.

She saw another tear escape him as he nodded.

“Okay.”

Getting up awkwardly, she managed to lean over and share a quick kiss with him. She tried her best to convey how grateful she was, how much she loved him. Eventually she sat back and watched him carefully. “I’m proud of you. So much. I know how hard it can be, but you’re not alone.”

Peter nodded, resting his head back against the cabinet.

“How are your senses?” She asked, still in that same barely audible whisper.

“They’re better now. You noticed right away.” He offered with a small smile that brought just a little bit of light back into MJ’s life right now.

“I always was observant.” She offered, earning a bigger smile from him.

MJ gently knocked her knee against his. “So what is going on?”

She could see the battle that raged in his eyes. Years of desperate self denial warring with the knowledge he needed help.

“Peter, you know I love you right?” She offered and he nodded.

“I can’t stand to see you like this. I can’t date someone who won’t take care of themselves.” For the briefest moment she saw something she almost never saw on him. Pure, unadulterated fear. She’d seen him stare down villains with more tech than him and a single desire to kill him with less fear. Stamping out the flames of any doubt she had just caused with her point she rushed on.

“Peter, listen. I love you. And I am never letting you go. Not now, not ever. But you need… help.” She said carefully. She felt like she was walking a tightrope. There were a million ways this conversation could go, but she knew it had to happen. It was probably long overdue too.

“I can manage…” Peter tried weakly, and she could still see the warring desperation on his features. That was one look she never wanted to sketch.

She gestured around a bit. “Tiger, things look a little… rough.” She squeezed his hand, trying to pour as much reassurance as she could into him. “We all need help, Pete. If I called you crying because the stress of finals was too much, would you break up with me?” She asked patiently. A little smirk came to her lips as she saw the instant call to action as he almost looked offended at the suggestion.

“Of course not! I would nev-”

“See?” She asked, knowing this point had been made before but hoping it stuck a little better this time. “Tiger, you have more on your plate than anyone else I know. You save the city nightly, you’re taking advanced chemistry classes, you’re dating a high-strung girlfriend, and you’re living alone. We can’t do everything alone.”

He was quiet, letting the words sink in.

“I’m not alone…” He replied in a soft voice.

“Exactly. But you act like it.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at her for a moment, and she could see thoughts forming and bursting in his head as the realization set in. She gave him the time he needed to process it. She wasn’t trying to catch him off guard, or trick him into accepting anything. She needed him to understand and accept the truth he was hiding from. The truth he thought he had to reject.

“How do you feel right now? Before I showed up.” She asked once she saw him relax a little.

“...tired. I’m so fucking tired, Em.” He confessed after a moment. MJ knew exactly what he meant. It was beyond physical.

“That’s fine, Peter. You deserve to be after all the work you do. It’s normal to feel tired. But it’s also normal to do something about it.” She said and MJ could see it happening. She could see him slowly accepting the truth, slowly reaching out for the help he needed.

MJ knew Peter’s struggles weren’t unfounded. They weren’t from a sense of laziness or pure stubbornness. Like her own struggles with emotions and letting people in, they were formed as a natural response to years of life battering the lesson into them. Losing his parents, then Ben. Having to hide his identity from the people who loved the most in order to keep them safe because there were people out there who would use them in a heartbeat to get to him.

Peter’s walls weren’t just him being stubborn. They were a desperate survival instinct to prevent him from losing anyone else. But that had to end. He had some many people in his life who loved him who would be more than happy to help him out just a little of the amount he helped them. He just had to let them.

“... I don’t know what to do.” His voice was a little louder, as if he was accepting the words finally. “MJ, I promise you I’ve been trying. There’s just so much. There’s just so fucking much right now. I swear I wasn’t trying to let you do-”

MJ silenced him with a kiss, knowing he was on another spiral. She leaned back after a moment, making eye contact with him. “Peter. I know you have. I’m so fucking proud. I know you have been trying. You’ve done so much Peter, I know that. You’ve managed more than what many people could with half of your responsibilities. You’ve always been my hero.” She said with as much conviction as she could possibly muster to get the message across.

Because she was so fucking proud of him. For both trying as hard as he did, even if it had been a little misguided. She knew how earnest he was in trying to do what he thought was right, and that was what mattered. But she was also filled with pride for him accepting that he needed to change too.

Peter lowered his legs and MJ sat on his lap, straddling him. “It’s okay to not know what to do either. I don’t either. Gwen is half the reason I haven’t dropped out of my classes, and you’re the other half. Peter, you’re the reason I’ve been able to make all these connections in my life. Because you had the answers I needed about opening up, and you helped me.” She admitted, kissing him again. “Peter, you’re the voice in my head when I’m filled with doubt. It’s your red and blue spandex butt that gives me the kick I need.”

Peter laughed, but his eyes were shining at her, like she had just told him the secret to the universe. God, she was so hopelessly in love with her dork.

She pressed on just a little more, knowing they were finally there. “You know what needs to happen next, right?” She asked, reaching up to cup his cheek and give him the permission she knew he was still desperately seeking.

“I…” He trailed off, chewing his lip. “I need to ask for help.”

MJ kissed him. Hard. God, she was so fucking proud of him. It was such a simple statement, and the farthest thing from a secret. But she knew how hard that statement could be. She knew how hard it was for her when she found herself in college still pushing away anyone who attempted to get close to her and clinging to Peter. Putting yourself out there was one of the scariest things a person could do.

When she pulled back, she gently wiped away some of his tears. “Correct.”

Peter laughed, his arms sliding to her waist. “I should be correct more often, then. If that’s how I get rewarded.”

MJ felt her heart soar that he was making jokes again. That he was slowly pulling himself back together.

She felt his fingers fidgeting on her side. “Do… you think they’ll still help me? I don’t know how much help I need but I’m worried it’s too much…”

MJ couldn’t control the laughter that escaped her as he stared at her, utterly bewildered.

“Peter…” She said, slowly regaining her composure. “You sweet summer child, you have no idea how many people are in your corner and ready to help you.” She said, reaching her arms up to his shoulders and rubbing her thumbs over his collar bones. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask us.”

Peter’s eyes brimmed with tears again as he nodded. She could see there was still some disbelief. She didn’t blame him, it wasn’t like you could completely change years of habits in one conversation. But she could see his determination there, to make a change. That was all that was ever needed.

“Peter, I’m pretty sure you could declare war on a country and you have enough people to overthrow it on your side.” She teased, only half joking though. She’d been around the Avengers enough with him to know they would literally walk through hell for him.

“I have had my eye on Canada…” He muttered and MJ laughed again, maybe a little harder than the joke deserved but the rush of endorphins of this conversation and breakthrough had her on an emotional high.

“So what now?” He asked, and she could see the yawn escaping him. She knew just how tiring emotions could be, let alone the fact he clearly had been putting his body through hell if that bruise that she had been doing her best to ignore was still that bad.

MJ’s mind was already off to the races though. Plans were forming, she knew who she needed to reach out to. The love of her life needed help, and finally, finally asked for it. She was going to make sure he fucking got it. She knew he had to be in control, he had to make the choices if he was going to learn, but she was going to give him every fucking option out there.

MJ saw him watching her patiently, a slightly goofy smile on his face as he must have known she was deep in a plan.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, MJ knew it was show time. “Okay, how much can you trust me this week?” She asked, a fierce determination in her tone.

Peter cocked his head to the side like the fucking golden retriever of a boyfriend he was. “Completely.” Jesus, how did he answer that so quickly and so honestly like that? He was way too good for this hellhole of a city.

Not even bothering to hold back the smile that she was pretty sure was most of her face now, she nodded. “Okay. You’re in complete control this week. You get the final say in everything, but I want you to just listen to me for now and I will do everything I can to help make things better anyway I can.”

She saw his eyes regarding him, flickers of an old doubt creeping in.

“You’re busy with midt-”

“Neither of us will fail our midterms either. I promise you this won’t be putting me out, deal? Let me help you, please. I promise you I want to be doing this, more than you know.” God, it was true too. She finally had a chance to give him just a little bit of the world he deserved, something MJ had been wanting to do for years.

Peter slowly nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”

She gave him a quick kiss before standing up, taking his hand and helping him up.

“Okay. First things first, this place needs… help.” She said gently, and Peter laughed.

“That’s an understatement. MJ, I appreciate you being gentle, but your snark won't scare me off. Promise.” He said, squeezing her hand. MJ couldn’t help but smile in return. Even when she was trying to be accommodating to him, he was still trying to reassure her that she didn’t need to change for him.

“Okay, this place is stressing me out just standing here. You need to survive midterms and you’re not going to do that here. So pack your duffle bag you use for trips with some clothes, and bring all your Spider-man stuff too. You’re staying with us this week.” She ordered.

Peter’s eyes widened but he slowly nodded. He moved to his room to start, but he emerged a second later, eyes downcast. “I… my clothes… laundry…” He muttered out, and MJ could see the shame rolling off of him. She walked over, nudging his shin with her foot until he looked up at her. “We have washing machines too, dork. Just bring some stuff, preferably whatever doesn’t have your blood on it.” She offered with a smile.

He slowly nodded and went back to packing. MJ was hardly going to fault him for not doing laundry. She understood how with everything piled up, it could just be another knife of shame in his gut, but it wasn’t like she had never had to steal Gwen’s clothes because she had nothing clean.

MJ glanced around the apartment while she waited and felt the lump come back in her throat. She wasn’t grossed out as much as sad. She knew that for it to get this bad, everything really must have piled on. He was usually pretty good about cleaning, from helping his aunt while growing up. The place was also barebones now. It hardly looked lived in as much as just where he crashed between activities. But she already had plans on how to help turn this into more of a home, and knew two women who would be more than eager to help him.

When Peter returned with the duffle bag she saw him glance around. She could tell he was hating himself again so she stepped up. “Now get all the stuff you need for school, okay?” She ordered, snapping him out of his monologue as he nodded and started to gather his laptop and textbooks. MJ walked around, making sure nothing had to be unplugged or was left on, knowing he wouldn’t be here for a while.

A couple of minutes later and he was done. He stood near the door with his two bags, looking at the pile of dishes with unbridled disgust. She stepped into his line of sight, smiling at him. “Everything Spidey is hidden?” He nodded. “Good, now come on. Don’t worry about this place, I already have plans for this, okay? You’re not the only college kid with a dirty apartment.”

Peter looked at her a bit wary of her plans but nodded with a smile. “Thanks MJ. I’m s-”

“Rule 1.” She interrupted, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Thank you for helping me, MJ.”

“Better.” She offered, kissing him before turning him and shoving him out the door. “Let’s go, we still have work to do and my place smells better cause Gwen is obsessed with those air scent things.”

Peter laughed, and they were able to make small talk as they made the trip back to her place, as she sent a text to Gwen.

Peter is staying with us for the week. He finally asked for help. Time to rally the forces.

A block later she got a text.

Thank God. He can learn! I assume you have plans? We’ll have a war council later.

So many. Operation Fuck-Parker-Luck is a go.

I’ll leave the fucking to you.

Gwen! I hate you. So much.

Love you too, I’ll bring home his favorite pizza tonight.

MJ rolled her eyes, but glanced back at Peter who was looking at her confused.

“Gwen is getting Pizza tonight for us.”

“She doesn-”

“Peter, do you really wanna tell Gwen not to help right now? You’re gonna be locked in an apartment with us for a week, I think you’re better off staying on her good side.” She offered and saw Peter let out a defeated sigh. MJ just smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good boy. I really don’t wanna listen to her yelling at you again.”

“Me neither.” Peter said, but she still saw the smile on his face. She knew Gwen was probably the best person to counter his chaotic energy with her own. MJ was probably the most stubborn out of all of them, but Gwen definitely was the more fiery. She remembered one time after a stupid fight she had with Peter, where it had really boiled down to her taking out frustration with school on him, and Gwen had literally locked her out of the apartment until she went and apologized to him.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Peter looked practically dead on his feet. When she had done her check of his place to turn stuff off she saw how little food he had. She knew his physical state had to be awful as well.

Ushering him into her room, she let him store his stuff while she moved back to their kitchen and made a quick sandwich. She knew he needed to sleep but wanted him to get a little more food in him first. She could worry about stuffing him full of food properly later. At least this week would give her plenty of time to try out the new recipes she had been collecting.

She knew the first problems she would tackle if she was going to get help for Peter, so while her zombie munched away on the sandwich with his eyes closed, she sent texts to Nat, Wanda, and Pepper. Just to give them a heads up that Peter had to talk to them later. She wasn’t going to make choices for him, but she knew the opportunities he had but was refusing to see so she just had to present them for him.

By the time she had shuffled Peter back to her bedroom and into comfier clothes she had gotten back affirming messages from all of them to meet later. For now though, she got Peter to lay down and cuddled next to him in the bed, pulling his head against her chest as she carded her fingers through his hair.

“My paper…” he mumbled out, barely conscious.

“Just sleep for now, Tiger. I got you. Everything will be fine.” She muttered, kissing the top of his head.

“I know.” He muttered, pulling himself a little closer and he was out cold.

MJ just continued to run her fingers through his hair, so proud of him. So ready to help him. So full of love for him. She knew she had a long week ahead of her, but with him in her arms she never felt more ready for it.

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #fanfiction #gwen stacy #MCU #marvel spiderman #spider-man

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dont-cry2020 · 4 years

Text

“Guess You’re a Celebrity Now, Huh?”

Harry Styles X Reader

//inspired by an idea given to me by the wonderful @peter-andthelostboys//

//What happens when there’s a new girl at an arts college? Well, she receives anonymous portraits shoved under her door, that the notorious Harry Styles may have something to do with//

//Fluff and angst//

//this definitely isn’t my best work but I haven’t been feeling super motivated lately, so thank you for your patience. i might try and rewrite this another time bc i really love the idea//

Harry loved to draw. It was his passion.

He was quite good at it, too, so it was really no surprise to his friends and family when he got accepted to art school in Los Angeles.

It’s a scary thing to move all the way across the world, let alone by yourself, but Harry adjusted quickly, enjoying the warm climate that was so different from the UK.

You, on the other hand, were feeling quite lost after high school. Your parents pushed you into medical program after medical program, determined that you were going to ‘make the family proud’ and ‘become rich and smart.’

For starters, you could care less about being rich, but you decided to humor your parents by going to medical school. Yeah, it was hard.

So incredibly hard.

So hard, in fact, that you could count the panic attacks and all nighters you pulled on two hands.

However, you found in yourself a passion for music; whether that was writing music or playing guitar or singing, it made you feel whole. Something that medicine and doctorates degrees could never.

As Junior year began and the weather got crisper and the air constantly smelled like cinnamon and spice, you started to feel lonely on top of the stress. Sure, you had your friends, really good friends at that, but that wasn’t the problem. You longed for someone to love, someone to hold you and help you through your ups and downs and someone for you to help through their ups and downs. But, you knew that you couldn’t handle a relationship right now, for Christ’s sake you were studying to be a goddamn doctor!

You had a boyfriend freshman year. He was kind, smart, and, much to your parent’s approval, was studying to become a pediatrician.

But you weren’t happy.

It was always about school and homework; never parties or holidays or even intimacy. So, you ended it, and as junior year is upon you, you haven’t had a boyfriend since.

Your girlfriends noticed that you were lonely, so they spent their time setting you up with hot college medical students to which you indulged in, and it was fun, sure, but you still weren’t happy.

So you did the one thing that your parents never forgave you for.

You dropped out.

You dropped out of medical school and transferred to an arts college, one that you had your eye on since freshman year, and one that was about as far away from home as you could possibly go.

You didn’t tell your mom or dad, didn’t tell them because you already knew what they were going to say.

“You’re ruining your future!”

“You have no chance of getting a job now!”

They hadn’t stopped since they found out from your brother, wondering why such a smart girl would become an art student. They didn’t even know you liked art.

You were sad to leave your friends, sure, who wouldn’t be? You loved them, but you all understood that it was for the best. You had a dream, and you were going to chase it. They stood at the gates of the airport, waving and crying and hugging you as you boarded the plane from London to LAX.

“Here we go.”

...

Art school was weird.

There were no snobby students with 4.0 GPA’s to wave in your face, no professors that thought they were better than everyone else or classes that you dreaded going to.

It was actually fun. Who knew that college could be fun, right?

Moving into your dorm was terrifying. You didn’t know where to go or who your roommate was going to be, and despite your previous experiences, it was already half way through the first semester, and every one else had their chances to collect their bearings. Luckily for you, you got your own room because everyone else had already moved in and had roommates.

...

Rumor had spread throughout campus that a new girl had moved in.

“Apparently she’s English,” or “she transferred from medical school” or “she’s a music major” were all things that Harry heard walking down the halls of his dorm and through the lawn and in classes.

It seems like this new student was all anyone ever talked about.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t intrigued, for he was English too, and curious at that, but he was an art student and you were a music student, so he never saw you around, and none of his friends had ever met you either.

As February rolled by, you had found that you adjusted quite nicely, making a few close friends and acquainting yourself with new faces.

The weather was probably your favorite part about this school. Back home, you would never even dream of studying outside on the lawn in the middle of the winter, but here you are, sitting in a circle with a few of your friends, talking and laughing about music and strumming your guitar.

Harry had his headphones in walking home from class. He was tired and he really just wanted a quick nap. It was Tuesday afternoon and the sun was shining, so there were tons of people on the lawn. It wasn’t a new thing for people to be playing instruments or singing when it was nice outside, so he didn’t bat an eye when he heard strumming of a familiar song.

But his eyes widened when he heard an accented voice that matched his own. His eyes followed a group of students, most he had seen before, but he didn’t recognize the girl with the English accent.

She must be the new girl.

Harry convinced himself that he didn’t want to go back to his dorm to work on his art, but it was such a beautiful day that he would sit on the lawn and sketch his little heart out.

He found himself staring at the girl, memorizing every freckle and curve of her face, quickly looking at his lap when you caught his eye, feeling like you were being watched.

“Who’s that?” you asked your friends, pointing at the boy sitting by himself, nose buried in his sketch book.

“That,” Jack said, eyes widening, “is Harry Styles. Probably the hottest guy on campus.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Jack’s just mad because he’s not into guys. He’s British like you, ya know.”

“He is hot,” you say, looking over at the boy with curly brown hair and tattoos littering his arms. “I should introduce myself.”

“Yes girl, get it!” Jack cheers. Rolling your eyes, you walk over to him.

“Can I sit?” you ask, looking down at Harry. He looks up at you eyes widening, scrambling to close the sketchbook that was full of drawings of you. He couldn’t help it, you were just so gorgeous. He nods his head slowly, eyeing you up a bit.

“‘M y/n,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Harry,” he says, engulfing your hand in his large tattooed one. His rings catch your eye, reflecting the light and making him look that much more intimidating. “You’re English,” he remarks, not asking, but rather telling as if you didn’t already know.

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously, his stare making you slightly uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Jus’ never seen you around here.”

“‘M new. Transferred last semester.”

Harry was interesting. He was funny, sweet, but a little reserved and intimidating, too. He was an art student that looked like he was the lead singer of a rock band. He dressed in dark jeans and jumpers and wore necklaces and rings. Never what you would have expected to be attracted to, being an ex-medical student and all. But, despite your doubts, you found him very appealing.

The conversation ended when he had to get to class, so you bid him farewell and returned to your group of friends, egging you on for every detail of your previous conversation.

...

The week finally rolled along to Friday, and you were set to go to bed early and watch netflix alone, in proper need of some me time. Your friends, however had other ideas when they barged into your dorm with a bottle of wine and the skimpiest dress they could find.

“Come on, y/n, please!” Jack begged you, walking to your closest and rifling through your clothes in the most extra way possible. He pulls out a pair of lacy panties and a matching bra. “All of your clothes make you look like a prude, so you’re wearing this.”

“Hey!” you say, snatching the undergarments from him and shoving them back into your drawer. “I’m so spent tonight, I really don’t feel like going out.”

“But,” Margot says, pulling your makeup out from your desk, “a certain British boy will be there.”

Suddenly all parts of you that were fatigued and not wanting to go to a party change their direction and you’re snatching the dress from Jack’s hold and going to the bathroom.

“Forgot something, sweetie,” he teases, throwing the lacy underwear at you.

You looked hot. You weren’t gonna lie. The black velvet dress clung to all your curves and stopped right above your knees, scrunching up on the sides with little ties. Your hair was curled and eyeliner sharp, and you honestly felt a little overdressed for a little college house party. Little did you know, LA art students don’t mess around at house parties.

To say that heads didn’t turn when you walked in the room would be a complete lie. All eyes were on the new girl, including a familiar pair of sparkling green ones.

Harry was intrigued, to say the least, watching the new girl dance around the house, nursing a drink and laughing with her friends. He wasn’t much of a party guy himself; he had a lot of friends, sure, but he preferred just to stay home or have small get togethers with them.

He felt himself being drawn to you, sliding in between grinding bodies and swaying slightly to the music as he neared your own dancing body.

“D’you wanna dance with me?” Hot breath fans over the back of your neck, goosebumps erupting over your skin. Spinning on your heels, you weren’t all too surprised when you were face to face with the only other Brit in the room. His gaze flickered across your face, brow furrowed and concentrated as he set his hands on your hips. You threw your own arms around his neck giggling to yourself as you saw Harry smile for the first time since you met him. His perfect white teeth had butterflies erupting in your belly.

You danced for a while longer, all the alcohol you had consumed earlier finally catching up to you. Giggling as you lose your balance, Harry catches you, holding you still before smashing his lips to yours.

Mere seconds felt like hours as his lips touched yours. You barely knew the guy, but for some reason it felt like the best kiss of your life. Yet, somehow, you knew you wouldn’t remember it in the morning, so you focused on the present and how he made you feel.

He made you feel good.

It felt like nothing you had ever felt before, sparks flying and hearts pounding and every other phrase used to describe something completely and utterly amazing. You got lost in his lips, memorizing every inch.

You pulled away, not completely unaware of the lust in the curly haired man’s green eyes.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you tell him over the booming music, slipping out of his arms and entering the much quieter but still noisy kitchen.

“Y/n! Where’d you go earlier?” Margot questioned, smirking at the lipstick smudged across your face.

“Jus’ dancing,” you slur, getting yourself another cup of whatever alcohol was on the counter.

“Mhmm,” she says, knowingly raising her eyebrows and taking your cup, replacing it with a bottle of water. “Think you’re done.” You groan, begrudgingly taking a sip out of the bottle, your body silently thanking you for ending it’s torture.

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but as soon as you left him, he was being dragged onto the dance floor by some girl, he wasn’t sure who, and was being grinded on and made out with.

“Y/n,” Jack said, tugging Margot by the arm, eyes widening “do you want to head back to your dorm now? We know parties aren’t really your thing.”

“What! I’m having so much fun!” you sway on your heels, trying not to fall down. “Why do we have to leave I-” your heart dropped in your chest.

Harry’s tongue was dancing with some random girl’s, not even five minutes after he had kissed you. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world, maybe you shouldn’t have been so attached to a man that you had just met and just kissed once, maybe you were drunk, but you didn’t care. It felt like your world was crashing down.

You ran as fast as your bare feet could carry you, Jack and Margot chasing you, yelling at you to slow down, but you didn’t listen.

Harry saw you run out of the party, pushing the girl sucking his face off and palming him through his jeans away. He thought that maybe he should go after you, but he didn’t feel like it’d be welcome. He ran his hands through his hair, eventually following your lead and leaving the party to head back to his own dorm.

Your feet carried you all the way to your room, unlocking it and throwing yourself on the bed, mascara tears staining your pillow case.

“Hun,” Jack says, petting your hair and pulling it back into a pony tail. “Don’t worry about this prick. He’s not worth your time.”

The rest of the night was spent with Jack and Margot holding back your hair as you threw up what seemed to be everything you’ve eaten in the past two weeks, and you crying about you didn’t even remember what anymore.

Harry tried to sleep that night, still buzzed and tired from the party and the previous week, but he couldn’t seem to rest his racing mind. He got out of bed, only clad in a pair of boxers, and went to his desk, pulling out his sketch pad and getting to work. He drew line after line and shadow after shadow, constructing a piece that he felt genuinely proud of, something he hasn’t felt in what seemed like ages. He knew that it needed to be seen.

...

Your head was pounding. Absolutely hammering in your head. Jack and Margot were passed out on the floor, blankets and pillows and water bottles littered the bedroom and after seeing the stains on your pillow, you really didn’t want to look in the mirror. However, you eventually had to get out of bed, throwing the covers off your bare legs and sluggishly walking into the bathroom. The best part about transferring in the middle of the year, you found, was that you didn’t have a roommate to share the bathroom with, or someone that would see you like this.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered, taking in the reflection looking back at you. Your cheeks were tear-stained with black streaks of mascara, your hair was matted and had chunks of something you hoped was not throw up in it. Not to mention that you were still wearing your dress from last night, except now it was bunched around your torso like a tight potato sack.

You stripped, throwing your clothes onto the floor and getting into the shower. The hot water cascaded down your head, wetting your hair and face and washing all of the regret away. You were in the heavenly water for a good long time, fingers starting to prune up from the steam and liquid.

Walking back into your room, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Jack and Margot had left a note on your bed, saying that they went to get breakfast and would be back soon. You thanked God that it was Saturday and you didn’t have any classes.

You immediately got back into bed after you dried off, pulling the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes, hoping to calm the pounding in your head just a little bit. That’s why, when there was a quiet knock on the door, you didn’t get up immediately, thinking that it was just a courtesy knock from Jack and Margot before they barged in with food. But when that didn’t come and the hallway quieted, you rolled yourself off the bed, grumbling to yourself and opening the door.

“Hello?” you say to no one in particular, seeing as there was no one on the other side of the door. You looked around, peeking your head into the deserted hallway, before finally looking down and seeing one of those big orange manila envelopes. You figured it was something from the front desk or maybe a letter from your mom telling you how you were making a mistake, but bizarrely enough, there was no address or even name. You took one more look around the hall before going back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

Curiously, you picked open the envelope with your fingernails, carefully ripping the paper. You pulled out the paper inside the envelope.

Shocked was an understatement to how you were feeling. A gorgeous portrait of lines and shapes that created none other than your face. It was a little chilling, knowing that someone has been examining your face and features so closely, but also because there was no name or address...not even a note.

“What’s that?” Jack asks, barging into the door, arms full of muffins. He throws you one, sitting down on the bed next to you and examining the paper in your lap.

“Someone left it at my door, but there’s no note or name or anything,” you say quietly, eyes scanning the picture. “That’s weird, right?”

“Ooh,” Margot says. “Somebody’s got a secret admirer!”

“More like a stalker,” Jack remarks, tracing the paper with his fingers. “Who do you think would do this?”

You honestly had no clue. The only visual arts student you knew was...no.

“Harry!” Jack says. “It has to be Harry!”

“There’s no way in hell it’s Harry,” you remark, slipping the paper back into it’s envelope and placing it onto your desk, changing the subject to the events of the previous night.

...

A few weeks later, Harry found himself drawing constantly; whether it was small sketches or bigger works, they all had one common factor; they were of the same woman he couldn’t get out of his head.

You, on the other hand, had received quite a few more drawings stuck under your door. At first, you weren’t all that phased, but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that you didn’t know who was doing this.

Margot had called it a ‘secret admirer’ but you weren’t quite sure whether it was that, or a stalker. Sure, it was sweet and all the drawings were beautiful, but how did said person find out where your room was? Or how did they know when to put the drawings by your door so they could have enough time to leave?

Jack had suggested that you sit by the door until there’s a knock, so one night, you settled by the door, rather impatiently waiting.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Feeling your eyes get heavy, you let yourself go, falling limp against the door and succumbing to a deep sleep, so when you were startled awake from a knock on the wooden door, you weren’t able to register what had happened fast enough.

Sure enough, when the door swung open there was another envelope, just like all the other ones you had received, except this time, something caught your eye.

There was a date and a time scribbled in messy handwriting: 7 PM, 2/23.

Your brow furrowed, staring at the information written on the paper, eventually pulling our your phone and sending a picture to your friends.

what does this mean ? you wrote, referring to the information you had received.

OMG! that’s the art show tomorrow! jack responded

you have to go now! Margot sent

You were a little creeped out to tell the truth, but you wanted nothing more than to find who the mystery artist was, and why they wanted you to go to the art show.

It was no surprise when Jack and Margot barged into your dorm the next day, rifling through your closet and styling you.

“It’s a goddamn art show, not a party,” you said as Jack pulled out another frumpy dress that he probably made you buy.

“Okay, and?” he asked, fluttering his lashes that were honestly far longer than you could ever get yours.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of the art hall, hair and makeup done, looking nervously around the exhibits that other students had created. They were all really beautiful, but you found yourself being drawn to one in particular .

A large oil painting of a girl with y/e/c and y/h/c laughing with a guitar in her hands was standing at the center of the room on an easel. The sky was painted with deep purples and blues and pinks and you couldn’t help but gape at the blending of colors. Something about the painting was familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Mr. Styles, is this the model you used for this gorgeous work?”

“Er... Yes, actually.”

You stop in your tracks, glancing up at the painting one more time and then turning towards the voices. Harry.

Harry painted this. And it was a painting of you.

You opened your mouth to say something, closing it after nothing came out.

“You-?” you whispered, still awestruck from the fact that Harry was the artist.

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and giving you a shy smile.

“And the drawings?”

He nods his head.

You stand there in awkward silence for a moment before he motions for you to come follow him. Your steps fall in place behind his as he leads you outside into the cool February air.

“I thought I should explain...” he says, ruffling his hair but not looking at you. “Tha’ night, at the party,” he starts, pausing for a moment to gather his words. “When I kissed ya... I felt something. And I know you did too... and then tha’ girl, whashername?”

You just shrugged your shoulders, slightly amused by the crease formed in the man’s forehead.

“Anyways,” he continues, “doesn’t matter. But when she kissed me and I saw you run out, and she kissed me,” he emphasizes the last part, widening his eyes and you just shake your head, lips curling up into a smile. “An’ I was gonna run after you but I didn’t think I’d be welcome... so I knew I needed to make it up to you... and after I met you on the lawn I couldn’t get the image of you laughing with your friends outta my head and I just knew I had to draw you and-” he continues to ramble on, but you just shush him, gripping your shirt in your fists and pressing your lips to his.

He trips slighty but you hold him into place by the fabric of his shirt, his hands eventually sliding onto the small of your back.

“D’ya wanna go out with me?” he asks as you pull away, his eyes glimmering in the sunset as you both catch your breaths.

“Yes,” you say, laughing slightly. “I do.”

Harry called you a few days later, asking if you wanted to go get coffee at a shop that he went to often. You obliged, saying that you would love to, ‘forgetting’ to tell your two best friends so they would leave you be to get ready.

You were excited; it was your first real date with Harry, and you liked him a lot. You had chemistry and it was clear as water to anyone who saw.

Walking into the coffee shop and looking around, Harry’s arm waving at you caught your eye. He gave you a warm smile, gesturing to sit at the seat across from him.

“Hey,” you say, greeting him.

“Hi,” he says, pulling your chair out for you before sitting down in his own seat. “I ordered you a latte. I hope that’s okay?”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling the coffee to your lips, choking on it at the sight of a certain painting hanging on the wall.

“Har- that’s- that’s your painting!” you tell him. He only smirks and nods his head.

“’S on display,” he says, resting his head on his hand. “Thought everyone should have the pleasure of looking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blush, taking another sip of your latte, before a little kid comes up to you, chocolate smudged across his face.

“Is that you?” he says, pointing a chubby finger at the picture. You chuckle.

“Yeah, actually, it is.” you say, smiling at his mom as she apologetically takes her boy by the hand.

“Guess you’re a celebrity now, huh?” Harry says.

“You made me famous,” you tell him, grinning at the green eyed boy in front of you.

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