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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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93. I hire your matchmaking services but all the people you set me up with are horrible and I’m demanding a refund and you’re asking me for one more chance??? what are you going to do? be my date?

Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I was inspired by @kriskukko's incredible art for the orc designs in this, and I highly recommend checking them out!

“Indrid? Some from Kepler House is here to speak with you.” Ned pokes his head into Indrid’s rooms.

“Drat” Indrid hisses, dressing gown whipping about him as he scrambles to put the apartment in order while also dragging his notes on the man in question to the forefront, “I didn’t forsee anyone coming by today, goodness, he had his first engagement with Lady Austens daughter last night, what on earth could they need to see me for?” He tosses his spare pens aside, landing them in his second set of house slippers.

“Well, dear boy, given the luck you’ve had with them lately-”

“It’s not luck, it’s simply very unlikely futures. Please just, just stall whoever it is a moment, Leo is usually patient and-”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that my friend.”

“Why not? I watched you once talk an entire flock of constables away from your door. Praytell, why can Ned “Silver Tongue” Chicane not get rid of a single attendant?”

“Because the attendant ain’t here this time.”

Indrid slams the drawer of his desk, looking up as an orc in a deep brown suit steps into the room, tossing his hat onto the table. He’s shorter than Indrid and Ned (stout and strong, according to the notes Indrid received), wavy black hair streaked with grey at the front. One eye is blue, the other brown, and both regard the harried matchmaker with casual annoyance.

“Mr. Newton, I, ah, I was not expecting you to visit me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be on a date where she found me so damn dull she hailed a cab as soon as dinner was done. I was already in town on some business for Minerva, so I decided to come tell you I ain’t in need of your services anymore.”

“I beg your pardon? Your benefactor employed me to find you a suitable match and I intend to do just that. I know there have been missteps, but such things are to be expected when searching for one’s lifelong partner.”

“Uh huh. And the fact I’m Lady Minerva’s chosen heir, which means there are a bunch of folks waitin to mimic my style and choices, has got nothin to do with it.”

“I, ah, I can’t say that I’m ignorant of the potential repercussions of being the one assigned to locate a spouse for you.”

“Which is the long way of sayin you know damn well that if I decide to stop askin you for help, no one with money is ever gonna come to you again.”

There’s a determined set to his rounded jaw, and a glimpse at the future suggests Indrid will have better luck with a different tactic

“....were they really so awful?”

“Yes. They were rude, or thought I was rude, or thought I was dull, or we just had fuck-all in common.”

“Have you considered you might just be a tad more demanding than average?”

“It ain’t demandin to want the person I spend the rest of my life with to actually like me.” He sighs, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cold, but unless you got a real winner up your sleeve, I’m done.”

All responses, all timelines show Duck ending his time as Indrid’s client and walking out the door.

“You could try me!”

“Really?” Duck looks deeply unconvinced.

“I will admit it’s unorthodox, but I, I foresee us having a perfectly nice time together. It will let me prove that I am capable of choosing companions for you.”

The shorter orc looks him up and down more deliberately and Indrid fights not to draw his dressing gown tighter. He will not be intimidated by some newcomer from across the sea.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I got to go to this concert tomorrow; someone from Kepler house is expected to show and Minerva is busy. You’re comin with me.” He holds Indrid’s gaze, daring him to renege on his offer.

Indrid summons his best, professional grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

---------------------------------------

Indrid smooths his waistcoat and jacket as he steps from the cab, tucks a strand of his silver hair behind his ear. It’s his only concession to the nerves skittering up and down his spine.

Gatherings such as these are nothing new to him; he goes to them to gather new information and new clients, to remind the well-to-do families of London and beyond that he is the matchmaker extraordinaire. But there is always the moment between when they see him and when they recognize him, when every face in the room wonders why someone like him dares to enter their space.

Somewhere in Indrid’s ancestry is a love story between an orc and a goblin. His silver hair, very angular features, and complete lack of tusks or fangs is the proof. The red eyes don’t help--they unsettle everyone who sees them--but his mother insists they’re evidence of other orcs gifted with rare magic on her side of the family. He wears red spectacles over them just to be safe; he rather likes how the color stands out against his skin, and his glasses let him avoid prying questions.

Duck is waiting for him under the awning outside the music hall; he’s in a grey day suit this time, looking just as understatedly handsome as he did yesterday morning. Indrid must admit his desire to save his reputation is not the only reason he agreed to this; he cannot understand why Duck is having such trouble meeting his match. He’s good looking, moneyed, American--an exotic background in the eyes of the average, sheltered upper-class orc--but still has family history here in England. All Indrid’s matches showed a high probability of success. The point of failure must lie with the orc himself.

“Afternoon, Mr. Cold.” Duck smiles with everything but his eyes.

“Indrid is fine, given the reason for our meeting.”

Duck nods. Indrid wishes the ground would swallow one of them up. When the pavement fails to oblige, he offers his arm. The shorter orc takes it, both of them doffing their hats as they step inside.

“I, uh, like the earring.” Duck indicates the moth cuff on Indrid’s left ear, a stark contrast to the single gold hoop in his own.

“Thank you. A friend gave it to me. I, ah, I rather enjoy working moths into my wardrobe; I find them fascinating.”

“Y’know, back home we got moths that look like hummingbirds.”

“Really?” Indrid’s ear twitches, “how big?”

Duck holds up his hands to indicate the size. Indrid is about to demand details when they’re waylaid by their hostess and pulled into a cluster of families. Indrid breathes deep, feeling crowded in, and notices Duck routinely being cut off in conversation or given disapproving looks behind his back. Yes, Indrid supposes his manners are a bit rough, but there’s no harm in that. Too, everyone seems far more interested in the goings on at Kepler House and with Lady Minerva than with Duck himself. By the time they’re seated, their arms feel locked together from shared tension.

The violinists are quite good; Indrid enjoys strings, his recordings of them being his favorite music to listen to while drawing. But his mind is so consumed by futures and by thoughts about the orc beside him that he struggles to focus on the music. Duck is having a similar issue, though he hides it well; were they not side by side, Indrid would miss the way he fidgets with the knee of his trousers.

“Are you alright?” He whispers under the applause.

“N-ye-uh. Fuck. I, the musics real nice but I gotta say I’m gettin kinda bored. But I got no fuckin clue if leavin will piss everyone here off.”

“Intermission is soon. When it comes, keep quiet and follow my lead.”

When the guests rise to stretch their legs and fetch refreshments, Indrid guides Duck to their hostess.

“I’m so very sorry, but I’m afraid my stomach is rather angry with me and it’s best if I go home. Duck has agreed to accompany me so I do not pass out in the street. I’m sure you understand.”

She nods, and in a matter of moments they’re out on the street, each breathing deeply.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“Guess I oughta just head back to the hotel.” Duck sighs.

“You could. But, ah, we’re not far from Kew Gardens and the weather isn’t miserably cold for once. If you’d like-”

“Hell yeah. Wait, fuck, sorry, tryin to swear less in public.”

“I don’t really mind.” Indrid starts them down the street.

“Lots of them do” Duck tips his head back towards the concert hall, “I mean, at least that rule is easier to figure out. It’s not that there aren’t weird rules and class stuff back home, but I grew up learnin them. Here I always feel like I’m one move away from makin an ass of myself. No one’ll say anything because of Minerva, but I know if it weren’t for her, none of ‘em would give me the time of day. It makes every interaction so goddamn stressful.”

Indrid twinges with sympathy, “When I first started in these circles, I wrote myself notecards and had Ned test me on them.”

Duck giggles, so absurd and loud it draws stares from passersby, “why? You seem to know your stuff.”

“I didn’t come from money, and I don’t always read social situations the way others expect. It was learn or live as a penniless artist for all my days.” As the gardens come into view he adds, “I know the basics of your life in America but if you weren’t here, what would you be doing there?”

“Workin in the Yosemite valley. I was a ranger there for a few years before Minerva called me here.”

“What was that like?”

Duck tells him as they wander the first stretches of the gardens. He’s midway through a tangent about bears when he stops.

“Holy fuck, you’re really still listenin.”

“Of course I am, this is fascinating.”

His companion smiles, “Glad you think so. But it ain’t polite for me to dominate the conversation like this. Now you gotta tell me what you do when you’re not gettin fancy folks together.”

“...You promise you will finish the story about the bear and the tent later.”

“You know it.”

Indrid knows that time passes more quickly with good company, but he’s still startled when the sun sets. The Savoy, where Duck is staying, is closer than his home, so their cab stops there first.

Duck pauses halfway out the door, “Meet me here for dinner tomorrow?”

Indrid grins, “I’d like nothing more.”

--------------------------------

“I didn’t know the line even went this far.” Indrid watches the moors race by them out the window of the train.

“You and me both.” Duck rotates his map, glances at the letter he received a week ago, “okay, once we get off at Amnesty, we need someone to take us down Greenbank road. The house is at the end of it, somewhere around here.” He taps a patch of moor miles from anything else. Indrid studies his fingers and is glad that, of his more rugged habits, one he elected to keep was letting his nails stay claws rather than filing them down.

“My visions suggest that as long as we don’t ask anyone to drive us out after dark, we should have no trouble reaching it.”

Indrid tries not to be too giddy at the prospect of spending weeks and weeks more or less alone in the countryside with Duck. They’re going because an anonymous note informed him that he did indeed have a family estate and--once they determined that the house near Dartmoor did indeed legally belong to him--it was decided he would go to see how the old place was doing and perhaps take up residence.

He asked Indrid to come without even glancing up from the telegram from the solicitor. Indrid agreed without looking away from his drawing. If two months of semi-courtship in a crowded city got them close enough for that, Indrid dares to hope that being out here together will bring them closer still.

Amnesty is small, as they both expected, the air chilly and fog threatening to swallow whole buildings as they make their way to the Lodge where they’ve been told they can find a driver. When Duck asks the young woman working the counter for help getting to Greenbank Hall, she quirks her lips in a frown.

“I’m not sure there’s even a place called that around here….OH! Do you mean Beacon House?”

“Maybe?” Duck looks at Indrid, who quickly looks at the futures.

“Yes, it seems we do.”

“Okay. Since it's still light, I should be able to find someone to get you out there. If it comes down to it, I can, like, drive you out myself.”

They end up being driven by a friendly young man named Jake, who deposits them and their bags on the steps of the massive house with a friendly wave farewell.

“Agh” Indrid shivers as they step through the newly unlocked doors, “I think it’s actually warmer outside.”

“No kiddin. Damn fog means it’s already gettin too dark to see too. I’ll go get some kind of fire started, you see if you can find some lanterns or candles so we ain’t trippin all over ourselves.”

Indrid begins his search, comes to the kitchen and finds some matches and a candle. The solicitor arranged for food and other supplies to be brought in ahead of time, so in theory lanterns should be somewhere nearby. He’s just glad that the paltry light shows no signs of rodents getting into their food.

When he gets upstairs, he discovers two things; one, all the lamps are gas, so he’s able to light them easily. And two, a mother tortoiseshell cat is nesting with her kittens on a guest bed.

“Well, that explains the lack of mice.”

Footsteps behind him, “Got a fire goin in the sittin room, if you wanna pick a room for yourself I can light one th--awwwww” Duck moves past him towards the cat, who hisses at him, “now, there ain’t any need for that, missy. I ain’t gonna hurt you or your babies. But we oughta bring you somethin more’n mice to eat.”

“I saw some tinned food in the pantry.”

“Perfect, lemme go find a bowl.”

----------------------------------

Beacon House has seen better days, but Indrid discovers the houses loss is his gain. Duck decides they can do many of the repairs themselves, and sets about ordering supplies from London or bringing them in from Amnesty. The few times they need help, the cook and several others from the Lodge come to assist in the project. These gatherings are far more pleasant than any Indrid had to attend for work (well, except for the ones where he was with Duck). And they always end before dusk.

Indrid occupies himself with figuring out why. There was no mention of this house when he first researched Duck, and even using the local name turns up very little. It’s not until he finds a diary belonging to one H. Newton in the library that he understands.

October the 15th, 1805

I fear the worst is upon me. I cannot leave the house, dare not even peer out the windows for fear of what I shall see. Lucy says it is my health, that we should travel to warmer regions so it will improve. But I know it is not so simple. Were we to flee, it would merely wait for our return. It may even waylay us before we reached town. I am cursed. We are cursed. We always will be.

Beneath the words is a hastily sketched image; yellow eyes and sharp fangs peering from between the bars of the front gate.

There are no more entries.

Indrid is unsure whether to raise the matter with Duck. On the one hand, he wishes him to know of any possible dangers. On the other, his friend is so very content these days, coming in from some project or other with grime on his skin and a smile on his face. Indrid’s own desire to stay with him here, in a house he can pretend is theirs, threatens to drown out all other reasons.

Eventually, his conscience shouts it down while he and Duck are on their evening walk.

“Oh yeah, Barclay told me about that a few days ago. Some ghost apparently wanders around the moor at night; got somethin to do with a murderous ancestor.”

“That does not alarm you.”

“You know I don’t believe in curses and destiny or anythin like that. People make up all kinds of stories when they’re alone in wild places.”

Indrid’s foresight guides his arm, gripping Duck and keeping him from moving forward.

“Does that look like a story?”

Directly ahead of them, a tor rises like a spike. Atop it, revealed by the rising moon, is a gigantic, fur-covered shape.

“See” Duck whispers, “were we back home, I’d say that was a bear.”

“And now?”

“Given there ain’t been bears in this part of the world in decades, I say we get the hell outta here.”

They take off back down the slope, the hall a collection of yellow squares of light in the darkening distance. A howl splits the air behind them and Indrid quickens his pace, keeps his eyes on the future in hopes of protecting them both.

This means he doesn’t see the burrow in the path until his ankle goes sideways in it.

“‘Drid!”

“Under no circumstances are you to try and help meAH!” He yelps as Duck swings him over his shoulder and continues his flight towards the house. As he’s bounced about, Indrid watches a glowing shape bounding closer.

“Thank fuck.” Duck crosses the gate, slams them closed, and lowers Indrid to his feet. Nothing glares at them from the path. But a growl creeps from the shadows and follows them until they shut the door.

------------------------------------------

“How’s the ankle?” Duck drops his coat on the chair opposite Indrid before tending to the fire.

“Better than yesterday. I should be up and moving tomorrow, if the futures are to be believed.”

“You know you don’t gotta rush. I’m happy to take care of you.”

Indrid picks at the ends of the blanket in his lap, “but I miss being able to aid you with work.”

“There’ll be lots of time for that. We got plenty to do to get the house to where we can live in it full time.”

“We?”

Duck goes completely still, then fails to put the fire poker back in place three separate times. When he finally meets Indrid’s eyes, he looks worried.

“‘Drid? What’s your endgame? With, uh, with me?”

“I…” Indrid grabs his teacup, intending to drink it to buy time and finds it empty, ‘I...I don’t know. I, I wanted to prove to you that I could find you a companion who made you happy, hoping you would give me another chance to locate your perfect match. But lately I, ah, I struggle to see that plan working. As I do not wish you to have any match but me.”

Duck moves across the rug, shadows on his face making it hard to read.

“I know that shows great selfishness on my part. If that is not something you wish to have in your life I, I…” he shrinks back as Duck leans down, certain this is the timeline where he accuses him of being a conniving monster.

“Funny you should say you’re bein selfish” Duck braces his arms on either side of the chair, “because I’ve been beatin myself thinkin’ I was selfish for keepin you out here so long.”

“Keep me here forever.” Indrid whispers. Duck smiles, closes the remaining space between them. His lips are still a bit chilly from working outside; Indrid does everything he can to warm them with his own.

The shorter orc straddles him and he whines so needily that Duck snickers in reply.

“What’s wrong darlin? Kissin too much for you?’

“On the contrary; it is far too little, but my injury means my ability to drag you to my bed and beg for more is greatly impeded.”

“Good thing we live alone.” Duck pulls the blanket from Indrid’s lap, nibbles his ear as the seer catches on and begins frantically undoing the buttons of Duck’s workshirt and shoving his suspenders. When at last he pushes it open he loses himself a moment, tipping forward to tongue at the golden ring in Duck’s left nipple.

“AHheh, gettin right to it. Good” Duck unbuttons his pants, “because I’ve been wantin to fuck you since before we even came out here.”

“Oh I see” Indrid purrs, “you lured me into the countryside to sully my virtue.”

Duck laughs, full throated, as his tusks catch in the firelight, “You forgettin the time we got drunk instead of goin to the opera and you told me you convinced two sailors to take you home?”

“Only if you’ve forgotten telling me about the young ranch-hand you gave several rides to” Indrid nibbles along his neck, his twitching oddly in their quest to grind against him without jostling his ankle.

“Not a chance. But I don’t care about reminiscin right now; right now, I got the best lookin fella in the world beggin for my dick.”

“I’m not begging.” Indrid tilts his head back to help Duck get his shirt open some.

“Not yet.” Duck grins, then shoves his hand down his trousers.

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid reaches for him.

“Keep your hands on the armrests until I say you can move ‘em.”

“But, but” it’s hard to argue when he’s trying to stare a hole through Duck’s remaining clothes. His partner notices and makes a show of moaning louder.

“Only good boys get to watch the show. You gonna be good for me?”

“The best.”

Duck kisses the tip of his nose, then wiggles and kicks his pants and underwear off. Indrid can only watch, growing more envious by the moment, as he fucks himself open and rubs a thumb along his cock. Indrid tries bucking his hips, only to discover Duck is keeping himself out of reach.

“Cruel creature.” Indrid groans.

“Cruel? I’m giving you a seat to the best show in town.”

“I’d rather you take the best seat in town.”

Duck laughs, is still doing so when he bends to kiss him. Indrid whimpers, nails digging into the upholstery to keep his promise of good behavior. Duck notices.

“Good boy.”

“AHHHnnnthankyou, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Indrid moans as Duck drops his weight into his lap, grinding on his clothed cock with abandon. He flings Indrids hands up to his shoulders. The seer glides them up to his hair, burying them there where he’s now certain they’ve always belonged. Duck mirrors him, lips only leaving his to bite the tip of his ear.

“Fuck, Indrid, that’s it darlin, lemme ride you like the sleek little beast you are.”

He whines, loses his thoughts as Ducks hips quicken.

“I know ‘Drid, you like bein mine, like that I’ll bounce on this fuckin perfect dick as often as you want as long as you’re my good, sweet, ohsweetfuck, fuck, darlin’” Duck drops his forehead to Indrid’s shoulder with a groan as he cums, soaking the fabric of his pants. Before Indrid can think about stopping, Duck picks up again with as much force as before, growling in his ear to be a good little social climber and cum for his lord.

Indrid cums at that with a chirping sound he thought he’d stopped making long ago, legs spasming from the force of his climax. Unfortunately, this means his pleasure is chased by a burst of pain. He whimpers, flinches, and Duck spots the problem.

“Oh, oh darlin I’m sorry” He drops to the floor, rubbing Indrid’s thighs, “thought the position would keep you from hurtin.”

“Apparently not. I, I want you to know I don’t regret it in the slightest.”

Duck smiles, relieved, and rests his head on Indrid’s stomach, “Guess you did find me a match, huh?”

Indrid bends slowly, nuzzling his hair with a hum, “Yes, I believe so.”

#indruck #meet ugy #indrid cold/ duck newton #orc au #victorian au #trans duck newton

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greeneyedwildthing · 5 years

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Every time I Meet Your Eyes

Prompt: here - you look different from person to person depending on what they’re attracted to. You’re the only one who can see what you really look like. Everyone describes you as something different, until one day someone describes the way you look.

Pairing: Gendrya

Note: was in the mood to write something different while I work on AOM chap 9 lmfao. Enjoy!

Staring at the reflection in her mirror, Arya often wondered how many faces she had worn, and how many more she would wear. For every stranger she met throughout the day; on her way to breakfast, in her third lecture, or taking the long way home. How many times would her appearance change on the whim of someone elses’ desire?

It had taken her a few years, noted with heart ache and confusion, before Arya had learned the truth of her ability. Like a coin it was both a blessing or curse, depending on the day. In truth it had been the self portrait she had painted in her first art class, that had given her the answers. The canvas had been returned with a note attached from her professor asking her not to take creative liberties next time.

Where her naturally brown hair hung limp to her shoulders, friends and family complimented the shades of blonde, auburn and various dyed strands. Grey eyes turned hazel, violet, and deep ocean blue. The freckles that peppered the bridge of her nose from hiking with Nymeria would disappear into a tan or pale into an even tone. No matter what she did, no one saw Arya for who she was. They only see what they want to see. A pang of loneliness echoed through her heart at the reminder.

Over time she had grown used to it, relying on the context clues of strangers to remember what she must look like in their eyes. It was exhausting. Most days Arya had the temper for it, but there were fleeting moments - accidental slip ups, where she couldn’t resist asking someone what she looked like in their eyes.

“Tall blonde with gorgeous green eyes,” Ned had once described, eyebrows knit together, as if it should have been obvious to her.

“I dunno, you’ve got really wavy red hair, brown eyes. Jus’ like your brothers,” Hotpie had muttered, too caught up in baking to notice Arya’s hopeful smile slip away one late afternoon.

A piece of her wondered if they would love her half as much if they knew what she looked like beneath the face she wore. The real Arya was a stranger to them. Only wolves gave her comfort, filling her dreams with storm grey pelts hidden among woolen sheep.

Yet, It wasn’t thoughts of false faces or dreams of masked wolves that occupied her mind when she collided with someone, spilling her drink all over the front of her. “Seven hells!-”

“Fuck sorry,” The stranger replied, reflexively stooping down to pick up the broken glass from the floor.

“Watch where you’re going,” Arya bit back even as she dropped to her knees to help him in the effort.

Surprised he paused, shooting her pointed look. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you milady.”

“I’m not a lady,” the words slipped out before she could think twice, too caught up in cleaning up the glass to realize he was goading her.

“You look like one.” He replied point blank.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me what does a lady look like to you?” Arya retorted, dropping the glass shards to stare at the boy expectantly. A mistake really, she would reflect later. Because the moment she caught sight of his bright blue eyes trained on hers, the whisper of a smile lingering on the corners of hips lips as he struggled not to laugh at her, Arya knew she was done for.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. If I’m such a lady, then what do I look like?”

“Fine,” He huffed, shaking his head in amusement before rising back up to his full height. “I think you’ve spent a little too much time outside with those freckles, but I like the short hair. Not like the other girls nowadays that just want to grow it out all the time.”

“And my eyes?” Arya questioned, voice catching in her throat.

“What about them?” He wondered.

“What color are they?”

Pausing again he cocked his head to one side, frowning at her insistence. “Grey.”

For a moment the music in the room dimmed down until all she could hear was the racing thud of her heartbeat. This wasn’t happening. No one knew what she looked like. There was no way he could possibly know. Catching her breath Arya swallowed, trying her best to tune out the doubt. “Anything else?”

“Look if you’re fishing for compliments I’m sure Ned’s around here somewhere.” He huffed, running a hand through his shaggy black hair in frustration.

“No! - no.” Realizing how crazy she probably sounded Arya ducked her head in embarrassment. “I don’t want him.” That seemed to loosen the tension in his shoulders but the concern in his eyes remained.

“Is this some weird kink thing?” He asked, suspicion sneaking in.

Wrinkling her nose at the thought she shook her head vigorously, “No. Gods no… I.” Struggling to find the right words Arya settled with the easiest explanation. “It’s just everyone always notices Sansa first. I didn’t think anyone would notice me…”

“A little hard not to, when a short spitfire like you ran into me and started askin’ about eye colors,” He snorted.

Casting him a dubious glance Arya frowned, “Watch it. Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I can’t fight you.”

“With those soft little hands?” Gendry let out a bark of laughter. “’m more afraid of your three brothers.”

#gendrya #gendrya fic #gotaxg fic #axg fic #arya #gendry #arya stark #gendry waters #arya x gendry fic #my writing #WIP #don't ask me where this came from because I DONT KNOW

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whats-my-question · 6 years

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You’re Not a Freak - Part 1

Summary: Fitting in the normal world with your powers has never been easy but when Happy calls asking where (y/n) and Peter are because of an incident, will your freak life fall apart?

Word count: 1,728

Pairings: peter parker x reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of being abandoned, angst, a touch of fluff

A/N: this is my first fanfiction and I'm glad it’s about peter. Let me know what you guys think! I’d love the feedback! I’m gonna make this a series so yeah hope you guys enjoy it :)

“What book are you reading now?” A tall girl with pulled back curly hair showing a forever changing streak of color sarcastically said while walking to your locker

“Hello to you to MJ.” You say letting out a chuckle as you close the book and start walking with her, “ Also its Z: a novel of Zelda Fitzgerald.”

“Of course it is! Why am I not surprised by that?”

“Oh shut up!” Both of you break out laughing, entering the loud and bustling cafeteria, you two walk to the food line then to the table, never breaking conversation about the book.

“Hey MJ! Hey (y/n)!” A dorky boy with a haircut that made you think of the 90s said smiling and waving while sitting next to who you knew to be his best friend. His friend looked up from his notebook making eye contact with you then gave a faint smile making your heart melt. Peter Parker was a die hard geek who wasn’t like all the others at Midtown. Besides the fact he's Queens’ very own Spider-Man, he’s so god damn attractive. Over the past few years you two have gotten close thanks to Tony taking him under his wing and all but feelings started to bloom for the brown eyed boy.

“‘Sup Ned? And fuck you Peter.” MJ sarcastically says letting out an evil laugh. You nudge her arm giving her a look, “What? Peter knows I’m joking!”

“Uhhh... D-Do I though?” Peter genuinely asking

“See, I told you...” Sticking my tongue out at her then glancing over at Peter who smiled graciously. “You might be friends but…” before you could finish, your phone started to ring and normally you’d leave it but when you saw Happy’s name, you knew it was important. “Umm... I gotta take this. I’ll be right back so don’t eat my tots.” Giving an all knowing look towards MJ’s direction while slipping far enough away where no one could hear you.

“Hey listen, are you at school? You haven’t ditched or anything right? Have you seen Peter? Is Peter at school too? And I don’t mean ‘yeah I saw him this morning but haven’t since’, I mean like you can see him right now or you have seen him in like... the past 10 minutes?” Happy questioned quickly, which surprised you.

“Happy, please calm down. Breath in and out. You know ever since Tony made you Peter’s babysitter a few years back, you’ve been more uptight?” you giggle before continuing, “Anyway… Yes I’m at school and so is Peter; we have lunch right now and before you called he was sitting in front of me. Is everything okay? Is everyone…” your breath started to become shallow thinking something had happened to Tony or Wanda or to any of them. As your thoughts lingered while your mind lead you to a point where you’re sure your heart stopped.

What if Steve... had… died.

You don’t know how or when you figured it out but you could control animals. Hell you can even communicate with them. You were like a Disney princess, a heavily fucked up one but that was still pretty dope to you. Once your powers came into play, it was at home then daycare then at school, there was always some kind of incident happening. You don’t remember when your biological parents left exactly but all you knew was they abandoned you. That’s something you still can’t could wrap your head around after all these years, how could they just dump a child in the middle of nowhere. Well, you knew why, you were a freak. You are a freak. But After some time of forging on your own, you were spotted and rescued by none other than Captain America Steve Rogers himself. He took care of you and gave you an unconventional yet stable home and family. Even though he couldn’t legally adopt you, that’s how your relationship felt. He was your father and you were his daughter; he has cared more about you than your real parents ever did.

With Steve came a bunch of great people you got the privilege of calling honorary aunts and uncles. Your life was finally coming together. But with pieces falling into place problems are bound to come up, ones you never realized were problems. The most important one, made itself known some time after you moved into Avengers Tower. Every night for the first year you were haunted by the memories. The memories of how much your parents loved you before they found out, memories of the accidents and injuries you never meant to cause, and most importantly the memories of being alone. They tore at you, making you bitter; not only did Steve notice but everyone else did too. What really effected you is that the Tony Stark, 'Mr. I only care about myself’, so you thought, noticed and helped you. They all did because they all felt bitterness towards something. Wanda had what happened to Pietro and the experiments they did on them. Steve had what happened to Bucky and not being able to live a life with Peggy. Tony with his relationship with his father and how he felt towards Bucky, even though he knows it wasn’t his fault. The list could go on and on. Everyday you remember what Tony told you, ‘Everyone has something that makes them resentful but the way it’s dealt with is what can make or break you.’ He also made you feel better by adding “And just because you're different doesn't make you a freak.”

After a few years of training, a few animal bites and a few broken bones, you finally learned how to regulate your powers for when you truly needed them. Okay, okay sometimes you’d use them when you were bored or lonely. Since you’ve had a hard time making friends, animals were always there for you. At first Tony was a hard ass with implementing the ‘no animals inside’ rule, which you broke the first day you moved in. Now a days its the ‘they make a mess, you clean it up’ rule, which you agree with and follow.

“(y/n)?” Happy questioned breaking you from your thoughts

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“No, yeah, I did.” you lied hoping he’d say it again

“You need to stop hanging with Tony in his lab. You’re starting to lie just as much as he does.” He trails off making you laugh a little. “I need you and Peter to stick together and not lose sight of one another for the rest of the day. Then after school go wait in the library until I call you to pick you up, okay?”

“Got it… Anyway, you know I wasn’t listening to a word you said before so…will you ease my mind, is everyone okay?” the lump in your throat growing again.

“Yes, everyone is okay (y/n). Please don’t worry too much okay?”

“Yeah… I’ll try not too…”

The two of you said your goodbyes and you walked back to the table. Letting a little huff escape from your mouth as you sat down. Peter intently watching your every move but you hadn’t noticed as you were deep into thought. The uneasy feeling that was starting to fester its way into your body is something that you’ve never been able to shake no matter how hard you try and no matter how many missions have past. Happy said not to worry, everyone is okay; you have to believe that, he wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t, right?

“Hey (y/n), is everything okay?” Peter could sense how tense you were and he, well anyone, could probably see it

“Oh… Um…Yeah…” obviously lying, “Well… Uhh… Hey do you wanna walk to our lockers together?” (y/n) barely getting the question out before making eye contact with Peter. She could see Ned out of the corner of her eye smirking and suddenly felt her face get heated as she started to squirm in her seat.

“I-I wou…” He started saying but got cut off

“We always do, so why are you askin’?” MJ turning her head looking at you quizzically

“Uh… Actually…” (y/n) began to reply before Ned spoke up

“Why don’t you and I walk together today? I mean we do have the same class right after lunch.” Looking at MJ waiting for a reply right when she was about to answer the bell rings

“Come on Ned, let’s go!” MJ laughs grabbing his arm while waving bye

You and Peter get up to throw away your trash and start heading to the lockers. Wondering how to bring up what Happy said without freaking Peter out or slipping into a panic attack yourself. All you know it has to be tactical since Peter will just bombard Happy with a thousand calls and texts; which is the last thing he needs right now.

“What’s going on (y/n)? Who was that on the phone?” Peter nervously touches your upper arm trying to get you to relax but his action does the complete opposite

By that touch alone made you forget every word that was going to come out. After a couple of seconds went by you were able to muster out what Happy told you.

“It was Happy… He asked if we were at school and haven’t left. Said he wants us to stay close to each other… Also after school, we are to go to the library and wait to get a text that he’s here to pick us up.” Tears starting to swell in your eyes, “Happy reassured that everyone is okay and not to worry but… Peter…” As soon as his name left your lips, he had engulfed you in a hug as the tears streamed down your face. Usually you’re not one to break down in public but knowing you both had study hall next made it easier to slip into Peter’s hug. Thankfully the halls were pretty empty from kids shuffling to their classes to take notice. You finally pulled away from the hug, wiped the tears from your cheeks, and started the walk to Ms. Warren’s room. All the while Peter had his arm around your shoulder. More things were falling into place and you hope it stays.

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