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simp-ly-writes · 28 days

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.7)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Kidnapped, heartbroken, and thoroughly pissed off, you become a one man team- breaking through restraints, into houses and cars to find a way back home.

Warnings: 5000~ words, light swearing, blood, violence, torture.

A/N: these chapters keep getting longer and longer it seems. I will try and hold back my yapping... anyways! hope you all enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | un-edited.

Body bruised and scraped from being thrown around with the various landscaping tools around you, your head slammed against the door as the vehicle came to a halt. You took deep breaths in and out, picking up the dead-fish smell in the air. You were near the industry sector and by the sounds of the gravel crunching beneath everyone’s feet, you were upshore.

Three slams against a metal door and it creaked open and you pushed inside, stumbling with the bag over your head and losing balance as your feet were chained together as well. Shuffling back to a stand, the men above you laughed before a bucket of ice cold water was drenched over your body making you instantly shiver.

Breathing in through your nose sharply as the bag was then torn off your head, you found yourself lazily strapped to a wooden chair- it creaked everytime you shifted your weight. Eyes blurry to the newfound light, you blinked a few times before the once blob in front of your face turned into features and a broken-toothed smile was gracing just before your lips. Their cigarette breath causes bile to rise up in your throat yet you kept a natural expression, staring between their eyes to the crooked bridge of their nose.

A cigarette was being lit to your left side, they flicked the ashes on your suit as the sparks burned against your skin. Taking a quick glance down, you tried not to frown seeing your once beige suit now a tattered mess of brown and grey with various cuts breaking the soft plaid pattern. The head man, the one to choke you in the first place, takes a step back and sits on a metal chair behind himself, taking a drag of the shared cigarette before mockingly dangling it in your face. “Want a drag, dearest?”

You make no comment, just staring off past his shoulder, silently observing your surroundings for more clues. You press your head against your shoulder, mocking a scratch behind your ear as your comms flood your eardrums once more. Samantha is crying and losing her actual shit as John raises his tone at one of the nearby officers- not allowing him to check the security footage. That makes sense as to why Samantha is currently losing it- more unnecessary work to hack into the system.

Thinking to yourself, this is more relaxing, getting to sit down and take a break, being on the receiving end of the saving than being the sole savior. You can’t help but produce a small smirk as you roll back your shoulders and lean back into the chair, spreading your legs for comfort. “You gettin’ comfortable there? Good, enjoy it while you can. God knows- I know- the work you’ll be doing after this with a body like yours.”

You chuckle, foot now dragging up his leg and positioned in his lap. “But why go through all the hassle, sir? When I could stay, just, right… here” you foot ghosts over his lower abdomen, you relish the sharp intake of breath that signals success. “Mmm, well as good as that would be for the both of us…” he takes a drag of his cigarette, finishing it off on your leg as it places a burn mark on your ankle. “...my brothers could use someone like you, a fighter, a killer of their own. Takes a special kind of fucked up to do the things you have done…” his hand now drags up your leg, fingers dancing over every cut to touch the skin of your leg as you stay still.

“...and if you remain that kind of person for em’, I can only promise rewards beyond your imagination,” he finishes with, stopping his chase of skin at your upper thighs before carrying your leg off his lap and standing. “Now before we get started, is there anything you wish to tell your newest contractor?”

“And what information would that include?” you press forward, blinking twice. “Anythin’ you are wishing to share before I force it outta ya, making both of our jobs easier.”

“Ask your men to leave and I’ll be an open book, can have a nice date about it,” you counter-offer, smile returning to match his one. With one motion of his hand, the room clears outside of the warehouse, the rusty door creaking closed to a slam. “Speak.”

“I was contracted to Greece in order to capture that royal you were after-”

“Who was your contractor then?” They lean forward, as if smelling your hair as you face forwards, tone even. “Undisclosed- manager wanted utmost privacy and I respected that, which made the job easier in the end.”

“And if the job was as easy as you said, why waste tears over a tool to be used for the bag?” They whisper into your ear, you swear to feel them smirk as a bead of sweat drips down your forehead, racing towards the muddied floors below. You wrap a leg around your chair, your hands almost free from the cheap rope they used from the gardiners truck as you access the best way to take this man to the ground and to make your escape.

“I am loyal,” you state, the one truth you have slipped today. “Well that is a blessing and a curse, we have a dilemma on our hands already with you…” His hand drifts up, resting on the back of your neck. You pray that Samantha shuts the fuck up in your ear, unknowling if he can hear her screaming or not. “...Very, very loyal it seems. I am disappointed. Seems as though you already need a lesson, a shame.”

And with that, his fist slams against the bag of your head as you fall towards the floor, finally freed. You snake your feet around his ankles, forcing him down with you and cover his mouth with one of your hands, racing to unhook your necktie as you force it around his throat, trying to buy yourself more time by muffleing his pain. He uses his body weight to roll out from under you, slamming a kick to your side as you curse out. The tie falls around his neck as he wobbles to a stand and you begin to run, hearing the doors slam open as your hand just graces the exit.

Bullets are flying around your head as you duck and weave over the various barrels in the room, looking for a window as another set of guards burst through the door you were just about to use. Quicking throwing yourself back around, you twist your arm with the motions, a series of knives falling from between your suit's fabric and directly between their eyes. Pressing your hand to your ear, “I need immediate evac, industry sector, meeting at south rally point when available.”

Glass cuts across your face as you fly out the window and roll into a run. Trees rip past and blur your surroundings as you follow the sun above you. The sounds of the sea call to you as you make a sharp turn in their direction, their shouts muffled by the ringing in your ears as you hear your shallow breathing, feel as if time is moving slowly for you once more as your body jerks forward. A dull aching feeling against your back, they managed a shot.

The sound of a boat horn slams through your consciousness as you slip down a hill, lengths over extending as you race onto a rammed road filled with cars against the coastline. Drivers honk as you race between cars in the road, policemen call after you, guns raised as well as you race to the front of the accident. A series of cars wait, driving slowly past the crash, the car nowhere to be seen but the rip in the divider separating road from sea as you shake your head before ripping over a divers door.

The woman shrieks at you scream out apology after apology, ripping the keys out from her hands before slamming on the gas and racing down the seaside. Sirens sound from behind you as you see the red and blue lights flashing in your rearview mirror as you curse out. Drifting around a corner as the radio decides to start itself in the junk of a car you managed for yourself.

You roll your eyes at the “white girl” music plays through the radio as you find yourself soaring through another seaside town, car picking up the various displays set on the small street as lights attach to your side mirrors, carrying them down the street with you like a “just-married” car.

You make a sour face at the thought, eyes saddening as look around your surroundings for directions to the nearest rallypoint, the cops in mad pursuit still behind you, some even sneaking up the road in front. A spike trap sounds, popping your wheels as sparks behind to fly, you punch open the window as the song finishes to your bumper crashing into the side of a building. You fall out the side of the car, running up the skin as your legs and lungs burn. Adrenaline causing your hands to feverishly shake as you climb up the lattice of a townhome and crash into their living space. A little boy screams at you as you hold your hands up, pleading that you do not mean to harm the small child before you race down the galley kitchen and slam into the wall, turning to find another glass door to a balcony where the next apartment appears empty.

Jumping across the balcony and onto the next, you break the glass door, and feel for the door handle on the other side. It is dark and sparsely decorated. You feel around the kitchen for a cup, taking a minute to take a sip of water from the tap before throwing the glass to the floor- trying to hide any biological evidence of yourself before looking wildly for the stairs downstairs.

You fail to hear your communications during this chase, your radio buffering in and out as you curse out to Simon's concerned voice asking for an update to your location. You finally find the stairs, emerging onto the town streets once more as you hide yourself in an alleyway. Watching as the blue uniformed men and women carry up the street. Looking over the various backdoors, you find a logo with a dress on it and softly open and close the door to what appears to be a storage room.

You shuffle through the various boxes, finding a range of formal garments and finally at the back, a box of clothes to be donated; shoes and casual wear alike, as you strip yourself of your tattered suit and force it into the bottom of the box. You press your hair down, taking out your earring- knowing that they would make you some serious cash from being pure gold as you strip off your watch with a sad wince. Note to self, no longer wear gifts on missions.

Walking back onto the street with a more casual stride, you find a pawn shop a few blocks down as your stomach gurgles and gain a few thousands dollars that you stuff into your pockets as the shopkeeper does not bat to fucks to. Clothes, Money, check and check.

You just needed food, a good drink and a car out of here. Thankfully you found a small street-side vendor as you ordered yourself an espresso shot and breakfast sandwich as your mouth salivated at the sight of it. Humming out contently at the taste of it as you walked back down to the seaside to examine your destruction- stealing a hat off a rack as you walked down the streets. The fedora covered your features as you pressed your head down, taking another sip of your drink while eyeing around for a phone.

A tourist couple was just about to pay for a bill- perfect. “Excuse me,” you smiled brightly at the two of them, “Is there anything we can help you with?” The woman asked kindly, her charming posh british accent relaxing your features. “Yes, would you mind if I made a quick call to my spouse on the phone- I can’t seem to find them down here.”

“Ah, no problem dear! Here you are, take as much time as you need, we are just finishing up here.”

“Thank you so much!” You flash another smile back, turning your back as it drops just as quickly, your fingers fly across the digits as two rings pass and Kyle's voice sounds in your ear. “Who is this?”

“Oh Kyle darling,” you fake a loving tone, breathing out an exaggerated sigh of relief as your eyes scan the streets. “I can’t seem to find you anywhere, see I am waiting at…” you look up to see the restaurant's name. “... Lola’s, where are you currently?”

You humm to every word he speaks, nodding your head lightly as you grip the phone, smiling at an officer that passes you by with a tip of their hat. “The team and I are about thirty minutes out from your location, are you able to keep this phone?”

“No, sorry dear, I do not see you, ummm, is there a place we could meet up between the both of us?”

“I am dear now?” Kyle chuckles out, “What happened to darling?” you roll your eyes, coughing for him to cut the crap. “Walk 10 minutes east through the alleyways till you see Pearl Bar and Shop, silver car.”

“Alright! Heading over now, see you in a few sweetheart!” and you end the call, sending a thanks to the couple before making your way back into the town core. Various scooters race past you in bright colours, kids kick their soccer balls around the fountain as mothers sit on its ledge, snapping pictures happily. You smile sadly at the sight, your eyes drifting back to the sea, to Whitby, as a cold breeze snaps against your skin as you stumble from the pressure of its ghast and slide back into the alleyways- towards the meet point.

“You look like shit,” Soap comments ever-so-kindly with a chuckle before offering you a sip of beer as you sit at the back of the plane on your way back to headquarters. “Well you kill fifteen guys, one of them your potential spouse, get kidnapped, traumatize a child and then sit on a plane with four men for the next few hours.”

“Well when you put it like that…” you shove his shoulder, walking further up the plane and check up on Simon in the cockpit. “How much longer we got?” you groan out, pressing your head against the doorway as Ghost takes a quick glance back at you, setting the plane to autopilot. “You holding up alright, Handler?” Not answering your question as you send him a glare.

“What do you all fuckin’ think- you all seem to high and jolly with this shit-”

“And you appear like it's not affecting you all that much-”

“WELL WHEN ELSE HAVE YOU SEEN ME A DISHEVELLED MESS IN A FEDORA AND SANDALS?” you scream out, taking another deep sink of your drink, sliding against the wall and to the floor as Gaz unbuckles himself from his seat to kneel in front of you. “I am sorry you have had to go through these things, Dee…” you shake your head at his words.

“No you all don’t understand-”

“No, we do Daniels, and here's the thing. It only gets more fucked up from here on out, you lose the ones you love, you hate yourself for it, you want to fucking kill them yourself for making you feel guilty, kill everyone, kill yourself. We all wanna do it, we all have people we are fighting for- livin’ and dead but here's the thing. Its a job at the end of the day, no matter how fucked up it is, no matter how much we cry and bitch about it- we do our job so that other’s hands stay clean,” John states, turning around from the other piloting seat as he now leans against the doorframe, looking down at you.

You stay quiet absorbing his words as he continues to speak, “we will mourn the loss, he was a good man- a great man to all the good he did for others but he wouldn’t want you this way. Not even right after his death- he always cheered on your fight. Now the decision is up to you, are you staying to fight or are you gonna wallow and retire?”

You nod your head along before slamming your head back against the metal wall, needing the coldness to ease the tension in your muscles. “I’m gonna fight,” you speak in a soft tone- still trying to convince yourself of the idea. “... thank you, John. You’re the first person to not sugar coat my losses… needed to hear it.”

John hums out, leaving down to give your shoulder a squeeze in an awkward side hug before taking control of the plane once more as Simon moves to take a nap at the back of the plane. “Want another beer?” Johnny yells as Simon throws a pillow in his face. You press your hand into a thumbs up, leaning so the signal is visible from down the hall as the glass bottle rolls to your feet as you and Gaz take sips while in a staring contest with one another.

12:00 PM | Spring | Eglinton Funeral Home and Cemetery

You are severely drunk at Whitby's funeral, his parents stand to the side, unknowing to who you and your entourage was that stand at the back underneath a willow tree whose branches drift off towards the sun's rays. 141 and you are dressed to the tens in three-piece suits, pure black accents - you all are shadows of yourselves. Watching as the family and friends walk away you step forwards and stand in front of the open casket, the first thing you notice is his missing glasses. Fixing a hair on his rested head your fingers shake over his cheek before grasping his hand one last time. To your surprise when you unravel it, a diamond ring falls out into your palm as you chuckle back a sob and place it into his suit pocket- right above his heart.

You bow your head, whispering a prayer before taking one last look and finally turn your back on the past. You stumble in your shoes over the uneven pavement stones towards the event hall where ushed cries and somber music play with trays of fresh fruit displayed against the back wall. You blow your nose into your handkerchief before guzzling down a glass of water as Gaz pats your back reassuringly when a family member walks by, glaring at your group. They all didn’t know the shit you both got up to together, how close you were- close to so much more…

Shaking your head, John came back with a plate of fruit for you all to pick at as Whitby’s will is read aloud. You need to sit as you fumble with the buttons of your suit, suddenly feeling too hot as the rest of your crew stands around to shield you from the curious stares of the fellow funeral goers. “Friends, Family, and those connected to Sir Wyatt Whitby. We gather here today to remember a man of great strength, who served his country and had a great sense of humor.”

A series of posh chuckles sound around the room as you feel yourself mentally drifting further and further away from this moment. You would have never fit in with his family, if you ever were to tell them of the danger you put their son into… you probably wouldn’t be breathing any longer… and with that thought, there was a deep part of you that believed you deserved such treatment from your more recent history.

In the few months leading up to the funeral, Whitby’s body had been frozen and preserved so that the headquarters could stage a more believable death to the agent for his remaining family and outside friends. This violently disgusted you, having to see him every time you went to check biological evidence with the scientists in the west wing. Yet John’s words were concrete, pouding in your skull, “fight like he would want you to…” and so you did, and rather brutally at that.

You forced yourself back onto the field, demanding it from upper management- refusing promotion after promotion as Samantha became your new Handler in this turn of events. You often wore dark blue navy suits to hide the blood that drenched every part of the fabric as you shot and hacked away at various bodies on your missions. No witnesses to be left between you and the goal. You will never forget the fearful eyes of that one politician as you gripped their shoulder into the helicopter, your bloody hand staining their crisp white shirt and some of it began to drip into your eye from your hair yet you could not care.

Management was thoroughly satisfied with your independent work- you were the most requested contractor. Money was following in- so much so that you lost reasons to spend it, letting the stacks build under your floorboards and in your jacket pockets before you were floating between bodies, drugs, and the bottom of empty bottles with glasses smashed against dust on the bartop.

You were far gone, everyone at headquarters joked that you had taken form to a rockstar as you flipped them the bird. Sitting at your desk as you choked down a coffee and pain medication, your head still pounding in rhythm to last night's DJ as you swirled around your desk chair, looking up at the ceiling as if you were dancing.

Laswell had called you endlessly, begging for you to reply after every night so she knew you made it home alright, that not another one of her close friends was gone in this line of work. You Stopped replying, 141 never showed up for their last mission, and when you looked at yourself in the mirror- you were as good as dead. Severe bags under your eyes, sex hair was your new hairstyle as lipstick stained every shirt you wore- matching the deep reds of your suits. You were fighting to keep yourself alive, is this what Whitby would want? You chuckle darkly to yourself, calling out to the new secretary that you would be taking your break at the storefront as you lit a cigarette, tapping the embers to the street as your ankle burned in memory.

You leaned against the bright building, blowing the smoke to meet the clouds above as you savoured the bitter taste in your lungs. Your throat burned for more drink, your eyes dry but when a shadow overtook the sun, you opened your eyes- surprised to find them closed and saw a masked-face man tilting his head down at you. “Hello Simon, come to tell me off?” you press, throwing your cigarette to the ground and stopping it down with your boot.

“No. But I am here for our last mission.”

You humm out, trying to rack your tired mind as to when you have received a new debrief. “Fill me in them,” you state, feeling around your suit for another distraction before a gloved hand grips your wrist gently, pulling it out of your suit jacket and down to your side. They do not let go, just looking over your shoulder before leading you back inside the building where Laswell waits, leaning against the counter as she speaks to Samantha. Gaz views the various ties in the display cabinet as Johnny forces himself not to touch the various new products in the windowsill. John observes everyone from the front door and you can’t help the heartache that bellows in your stomach to the scene before you- so reminiscent of your first meeting together.

Laswell runs over, pulling you into a hug as her nose scrunches up at the bruises against your throat and the cigarette breath you breathe. You pat her back stiffly before she pulls away, wiping away a few tears as you lean against the stair railing that leads to the supplies room upstairs. Simon stands still behind you, giving Samantha a nod as she turns back around the counter and disappears into the back.

John walks slowly up to you, replacing Kate as he frowns at the sight of you. You wince at his features scrutinizing your every decision that leads to now before looking down at your boots, unable to meet him in the eyes any longer to the guilt that consumes your being. “I would say it's good to see you again, but I was worried you would be something like this when we got called back-”

“Thanks John, just what I wanted to hear…” you interrupt sarcastically, moving around the man to hug Gaz and Soap in greeting before sitting on top of the counter- right beside the till. Laswell leans against the wood beside you, looking through the various emails on her phone as you start to tap your nails against the treated wood.

“... I fought, long and hard I hope you all know. But now… now I think- I don't actually think,” you laugh to yourself as Gaz winces, looking towards his Captain who had yet to drop his attention from you. John walks up to you once more, holding up your chin so that your eyes meet. You cast him a cheesy fake smile as he hums out, “I’m sorry…”

“What for?” you raise a brow, not clicking in his somber tone as Laswell stares sadly into the side of your head- thinking that you are unknowing.

“For not showing you what to fight for. It's one thing to say something, another to not follow through,” John finishes speaking, dropping his touch as you hold your head up more clearly as you look around the room. “Not your fault, everyone!” you announce, clapping your hands together as you move to stand and walk around the counter, trying to move back to headquarters- brushing off the words. “Sorry for making you all come back here, I’m still here, no need for worry or anything…”

“But that's just the thing,” Soap comments as you snap your head back to face him. “We are staying here for our next mission.”

“Then what is this fucking mission?” you stress back out, pinching the bridge of your nose as the nicotine has started to wear off.

“You,” Gaz states simply, throwing a tie your way with a smile.

“Now it's time to get to work,” Laswell announces, shoving you through the door as you begin to protest and that's how you found yourself here, at this funeral with a bunch of strangers unknowing to his actual death and task force 141.

Your attention snaps back to the will presenter at the sound of your name, “And to my dearest-Dee, thank you for teaching me that the present is enough of a gift that you need not worry about the past or future. I love you darling, and maybe one day we will dance together again but for now- it's time you took some lessons and find a new partner, I will be waiting to see all your new moves and maybe then you will finally tell me your first name.”

You burst out laughing, it echoes throughout the hall, cutting through every tear, sob, and face filled with sorrows. Your shoulders bend up and down rapidly as you clench at your stomach, folding yourself in half as you almost fall off your chair. Soap was not there to place a hand to your shoulder to halt any further movements. You look up to the ceiling, watching as the sun casts through the skylights above as you blink away your tears, trying to even out your breathing while fanning your cheeks with your hands as the reading presumes once more and you make your way outside.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @cod-z

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 5 months

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Lollipops

Timari January Day 1: Lollipop

By @maribat-calendar-events

Listen, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng opened up a clinic, she had been expecting a lot of things.

Children, since she was officially in pediatric care. You know, the branch devoted to treating children.

Eventually, she expanded to consider her patients might include henchmen, as well. And she had been mentally prepared, perhaps, to possibly meet their bosses, if they wanted to thank her for their services in person, though she had doubted this.

She had not, however, been expecting to look a vigilante dead in the eyes (domino mask, it didn’t matter)... or, at least, not like this. She had been expecting to get approximately one glimpse of their usual suits and then have a fist obscure most of her vision. Not to see him hunched over in one of her chairs, hugging the knife buried in his side.

“... hi,” she said, glancing behind herself at the Scarecrow goon she had been about to lead out the door. “I can get to you in a minute.”

The vigilante didn’t say ‘okay’, but he didn’t say ‘no’, either. From what she had been told, this wasn’t uncommon. Introverts, the lot of them.

She quietly closed the door and pointed the goon towards the exit, and waited a few minutes with her ear against the door to make sure he hadn’t gotten immediately jumped by a second, secret vigilante. Once she was reasonably sure that the henchman had gotten away to safety, she went back to the vigilante who was, apparently, in her care.

He was… still in that chair. Stab wounds will do that to you, she supposed.

She hesitated as she eyed him up and down.

This was Red Robin, she was pretty sure, though he could have been Robin or Red Hood or really just any other male vigilante in Gotham… they all looked the same. She wasn’t going to say it aloud, though, she didn’t want to risk being wrong. Embarrassing.

Also, she was pretty sure she was on thin ice right now. Getting his name wrong might just screw her over.

Thankfully, he was aware of her presence immediately, and she didn’t have to call his name to get his attention.

She sent him a slightly nervous smile. “You do know this is pediatric care, don’t you? I was trained to treat children.”

“The guy before me wasn’t a child.”

“He has a kid,” she said. Technically, this was true.

“Was the kid here?”

“I plead the fifth. And the fourth. And any other applicable laws that might help me right now.”

He snorted. “I’m not a cop.”

“You still get people arrested, I’m not going to risk it.”

He lifted his hands in a kind of ‘I surrender’ gesture, only to wince. He quickly went back to applying pressure to his wound, which was probably for the best.

Marinette shook her head to herself, sighing. “I’ll bring my equipment over here. I’d rather not have to carry you.”

“I can still walk,” he said.

He moved as if to stand. She grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back down, giving him a cold look.

“Don’t do that. Christ.”

He groaned and slumped back in his chair, pouting like the child that she was supposed to actually be getting. How had her life come to this?

You say ‘ohmygod why are you bleeding on my doorstep oh my FUCKING GET INSIDE’ to a henchman one time and suddenly it just becomes your thing.

She sighed internally as she went about collecting her things and then sighed externally when her eyes flicked to the security footage. She had put a camera next to the door a while back, when she had first started taking henchmen. She didn’t use it often, she really just had it to make people at least hesitate before trying to steal things.

Anyways, the point is, Red Robin was not in the chair she had left him in.

She made sure her next footstep was audible, before feigning a pause to make sure she had everything she needed.

By the time she stepped out, he was back in his chair, looking for all the world as if he had never left.

Marinette hated life.

She was quick in stitching him up. Perhaps quicker than was strictly medically advisable, but whatever. This wasn’t meant to be permanent or anything, this was just to last him until Batman could, like, magically fix it. Or whatever that cryptid of a man did. Marinette, frankly, preferred not knowing.

She pulled back, wiping bloody hands on the towel around her neck.

“Normally, I’d say to take things easy for the next few weeks, minimum, but considering…” she shrugged. “I dunno. Just try not to pop those.”

He tilted his head to the side consideringly for just a moment.

And then he laughed. “No promises.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He jumped to his feet, and she cringed just slightly. But it wasn’t like she could stop him if that was what he wanted to do. She could only mumble a few curses under her breath and move to leave so she could close up shop.

Red Robin lingered for just a few seconds longer than she expected him to.

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him briefly. She figured it was probably best to just ask him outright whether or not he needed to go through some files. He was going to do it regardless of her wishes, and she liked pretending to have free will.

“So, is my clinic up to par with your standards?”

Red Robin didn’t bother denying that he had had ulterior motives for visiting.

Instead, he held up a candy he had grabbed from the jar on her desk.

“For sure. You guys have lollipops.”

#maribat #timari #timinette #timmari #shutterbug #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #new year new me :)

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fastlikealambo · 2 years

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Bloodsinger: Vampire! Eddie Munson x Black Reader Drabble Part 1/5

Summary:

Out of every news source in the country, the one and only lead singer of Corroded Coffin and self proclaimed vampire Eddie Munson has decided to do a sit down interview with The Hawkins Post. Instead of your boss, you’re sent to a mansion on Halloween Night and you’re in no way prepared for what’s in store.

Trigger Warnings: violence, gore, blood k!nk , a tinsy bit of cardiophilia if you squint, 80s workplace sexism

Inspired by: The Vampire Chronicles, Lost Boys, Vampire Diaries, Twilight, honestly every single vampire trope and cliche is in present and accounted for in this fic.

minors dni, I check.

I couldn’t stop myself guys, this is so cheesy

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled in front of your boss.

“You better believe it cupcake, they’re sending a car in 15 minutes.” He grumbled right back, blowing smoke directly into your face.

“ Not only did you give my story away to Nelson, you’re sending me on the Munson piece without any preparation? This is supposed to be your story, the one to put Hawkins on the map, why am I doing this instead of you?”

“Because I gotta take my kid trick or treating and we figured sending a girl would open that freakshow up a bit. “

“You can’t possibly think he’s a real vampire? Vampires don’t exist, this is nothing but a gimmick to sell tickets.”

With a barking laugh, your boss shoves a notepad, a camera, and tape recorder into your arms.

“Well I guess you’ll just have to find out for us, won’t you? That band is the biggest thing in pop culture right now and that thing in the mansion is going to save what’s left of this newspaper. I don’t care if he’s the easter bunny, you’re going to smile, unbutton a few of those buttons, and get this story. Do I make myself clear?”

Somewhere close, a car beeps.

“That’s your ride sweetheart, run along and make me proud.”

A man in a suit awaits you when you finally get outside, clearly annoyed.

“ Please get in, Mr. Munson is waiting for you.” The driver said in a monotone voice.

Before you can do so, the driver slips the camera off your shoulder, throwing it to the ground, looking far too pleased with himself to see the shocked look on your face.

“Mr. Munson has a strict no photography rule, I hope you understand.”

“ And I hope I’ll be reimbursed so this doesn’t come out of my paycheck.”

The drive is silent but short as you look over the questions your boss chose while the last bit of daylight fades away. Before you know it, you’re outside of a glorious mansion surrounded by iron gates and a crowd cheering and booing.

The driver opens your door and leads you through the crowd of people, one of which grabs your arms before you can step through the front gate.

“God be with you child, for the dead travel fast.” He whispered, slipping a cross necklace into your hands before the driver yanks you inside and into a sitting room.

“He’ll be but a minute, try not to touch anything.”

There was nothing for you to touch, standing in the completely dark room, arms wrapped around yourself to brace against the chill.

A sudden gust of wind blows the door open and out of politeness you close it, the crowd having grown in the moments since you arrived.

Yeah, nope, I’m out of here.

“You didn’t sound this beautiful on the phone.” A voice drawls from behind you and you turn to find the room suddenly lit, candles on every surface, a roaring fire in the fireplace that you could have sworn wasn’t there before the door opened.

Straddling a chair in front of the fireplace, guitar in his lap is the one and only Eddie Munson. You’d seen him before on MTV and some concert footage here and there but nothing could prepare you for the truly handsome man in front of you.

“Well it wasn’t me on the phone, my colleague was unable to meet with you so they sent me instead. If you’d like to reschedule with him I can-

“I’d much rather do this with you, please, come closer.” He beckoned with ringed fingers, patting the chair across from him.

You clear your throat and straighten up, all business as you sit down and force yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’ll keep this short and simple Mr. Munson. I know you’re not a vampire so I’ll skip the vampire related questions and just focus on the promotion of your band’s new album, you get the publicity you want and I’ll get out of your hair in less than an hour. We’ll start with some softball questions-

In one fluid motion, he puts his guitar to the side and pulls your chair closer to his.

“And what makes you think I’m not a vampire, baby?”

“Because vampires aren’t real and I’m not your baby.”

You’re temporarily distracted as the crowd outside has grown louder, more people have joined the group, some even in halloween costumes.

“Who are all these people outside, your fans?” You asked, gesturing to them but he only shrugged.

“Some are, some think they’ll catch a glimpse of the devil if they stick around long enough.”

“And do you think you’re The Devil Mr. Munson?”

“ You know you can just call me Eddie, right? Would it be easier for you to believe I was the devil and not a vampire?” He asked with a smirk.

“Neither exist. I thought I was the one asking the questions here?”

That makes him laugh, echoing throughout the home.

“I like you, for someone alone in a room with a vampire you’re not afraid. Most would be.” The rocker leans forward in his seat with a mischievous smile at your exasperation.

“I’m not afraid because I’m not in the presence of a vampire. I don’t get it, your music stands on its own, gimmicks are beneath your band’s hard work. Why prop up your art on cheap ploys for attention?” You ask,a bit more sharply than you mean but he just stares at you in curiosity rather than anger.

“Have you always had a heart murmur?”

“Excuse me?” That question brings your banter to a halt and you put your pen down.

“ Have you always had a heart murmur?” He repeats, cocking his head to one side.

“I was born with it. You know, stealing medical records is a felony in all fifty states so I think it might be best if we pretend this interview never happened. I should go.”

Before you can stand, he takes your wrist in his hands, lips hovering over your pulse point.

“I know that because I can hear it. Just like I can hear that pretty little bra of yours scraping against your skin, just like I know that I touch you in three very special spots, I can have you soaking wet all over my hardwood floors.”

“You are way out of line! I don’t know if this is some weird shit rich people do to pass the time, but I don’t want any part of it. I’m not something to laugh at and neither is my job. Good night Mr. Munson.” With that you rip your wrist out of his grasp, gathering up your things. You shouldn’t have come here.

“Wait-”

The sound of the window exploding behind you cuts off what you hope is an apology. For a second the room seems to tilt and twist until Eddie’s face is right above yours, a large piece of concrete in one hand, you in the other.

You can hear the screaming dispersing crowd and sirens in the background but you’re a tiny bit distracted at the sight of a particularly large piece of glass lodged in your shoulder.

Oh this night just keeps getting better and better.

“ Do you trust me?” He asks, quickly lowering you to the ground, softly stroking your cheek.

“No.”

“Yeah, thought as much. Take a deep breath in, on the count of three. One, two-” You open your mouth to remind him the first rule of having pointy objects lodged inside your body is not to remove them until help comes but you let out a pained cry as the glass is in his hand before he even gets to three.

There’s a sudden wetness soaking your shirt and Eddie’s hands, and everything starts to get a bit fuzzy but not fuzzy enough for you not to miss seeing Eddie’s eyes narrow and his canines elongate.

As he licks your blood from his fingers, peaceful blackness finally creeps into your vision and the last thing your eyes focus on is not his face but the portrait hanging above his fireplace.

A portrait of a woman who looks a lot like you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x yn #vampire eddie munson

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seaside-writings · 7 months

Text

Happy Halloween, all you wonderfully, wicked people!

I have always loved found-footage horror movies; something about feeling like you’re with the characters is honestly one of the creepiest things about them.

So here's a prompt list created from one my favorite horror movies "The Blair Witch Project".

I hope this prompt list brings you inspiration wherever it is needed, and like always if you do use these prompts please tag me so I can see what you’ve made!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 🧡🎃🖤🕸💜🔮

“I’m scared to close my eyes, I’m scared to open them, we’re gonna die out here,”

“I could help you, but I’d rather stand here and record,”

“I heard two noises coming from two separate areas of space over there. One of them could have been an owl, but the other one sounded like a cackling,”

“ I insisted we weren’t lost. I insisted we keep going. I insisted that we walk south,”

“What bugs me out is that we’re so damn deep in the woods, and people are gonna try and come out here and mess with us, then they gotta have something wrong with them, and I’m not gonna play with that,” “ But how do we know it was people?” “Well, even if it wasn’t, I’m not gonna play with that either!”

“Give me the compass. You’ve betrayed us all beyond. Way fucking beyond,” “Bullshit. You betrayed us when you couldn’t get us out of the woods last night,” “Yeah, thanks,”

“I hate crossing streams on logs. If I never cross another stream on a log for the rest of my life, I will die a happy girl!”

“You’re lost, you’re angry in the woods, and no one is here to help you. There’s a witch, and she keeps leaving shit outside your door. There’s no one here to help you! She left little trinkets, you took one of them, she ran after us. There’s no one here to help you! We walked for 15 hours today, we ended up in the same place! There’s no one here to help you, that’s your motivation! That’s your motivation!”

“I found some cigarettes. I found them all the way in the bottom of my pack. We’re still alive ‘cause we’re smoking,”

“I want to avoid being cheesy, here. I want to avoid any cheese,”

“We’ve exhausted all of our natural resources!”

“I don’t believe in witches and airy-fairy stuff like that,”

“It’s not the same on film, is it? I mean, you know it’s real, but it’s like looking through the lens gives you some sort of protection from what’s on the other side,”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?!”

“What are some of your favorite things to do?” “Well, on Sundays, I used to like to go hiking, but now…”

“I see why you like this video camera so much,” “You do?” “It’s not quite reality. It’s like a totally filtered reality. It’s like you can pretend everything’s not quite the way it is,”

“Ok I’m not allowed to smoke, but he’s allowed to fart as much as he wants?” “I didn’t give him any fart allowance,”

“How’s east?” “East? “Yeah, we’ve been going south all this time. How’s east? “Wicked Witch of the West, Wicked Witch of the East. Which one was bad? “Wicked Witch of the West was the bad one,” “Then we should go east,”

“ I am so sorry! Because it was my fault. I was the one who brought them here,”

“Mmmm. Marshmallows. Soft,”

“We have enough battery power to run a small third-world country,”

“You gonna write us a happy ending?”

“Flames are licking you like the devil,”

“Woke up this morning, just like two seconds ago, and there are piles of rocks outside of our tent. There are three, actually,” “Are you seriously fucking positive those weren’t there when we set up camp last night?” “I am seriously fucking positive these were not here. How would we’ve, like, just made a campsite in between three piles of rocks, just by coincidence?”

“Screw that, you think you guys are heroes for killing innocent people?”

“Are you eating a dead leaf?” “Yes,”

“Let’s not call him “the Captain,” you illiterate TV people. It’s “the Skipper,”

“They’re people fucking with our heads,” “But no one knows we’re out here,” “Yeah, but have you ever seen 'Deliverance’?”

“What’s with that slime on your backpack?” “That’s not slime, it’s just water. No wait, it is slime, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, it was like a serious cackling,” “See, my problem is that I sleep like a fucking rock,” “If I heard a cackling, I would have shit in my pants!”

“Whatever it is, it knows that he is gone,” “If that was him, he would’ve said where he was,” “Whoever it was sounded like him,”

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professionallydeadinside · 4 months

Note

Cinema

A cinema with 5 rooms that tends to show basically whatever they can get their hands on (mostly budget horror movies). Each room has an issue associated with it. You can’t open the door to room 1 if the projector is on unless you want to go straight to the pride circle of hell. Room 2 will occasionally show footage of an extremely gorey game of would you rather instead of the intended footage. Room 3 has a good chance of the entire audience being possessed that the ushers will then need to get the manager to deal with. Ushers leaving room 4 will occasionally get sent to the shadow realm, permanently if they don’t reenter room 4 before the shadows get them. Ushers cleaning room 5 have a slim chance of being forced to watch a snuff film featuring a former worker being mutilated. Yeah, you don’t want to work here

Leslie Stone (He/Him)

A lanky butch woman who has lots of tattoos, piercings, and who you can often find in the most tacky “Woman want me, fish fear me” shirts known to mankind. He seems stand-offish and reserved, however if you get to know him, you’ll soon learn why he’s like that. It’s more than a little stressful running a haunted theater, especially when the demons want your employees dead. Luckily, his lovely wife is just a store over when he needs a break, and he’s got his bees at home.

Liam Bumgardener (They/He)

A former employee that still technically works there. They easily run the projectors in room 5, although no one’s ever seen him on the way in or out. The only people there who know what he looks like, or even who he is, are those ushers unfortunate to fall to his mercy when they show their fate on the big screen. Their neck was stretched out farther than their body should allow to the point their entire spine came out. A metal brace keeps them upright with a projector camera shoved through their head and the lens replaces their eye. He seems to have almost totally lost it, and no one wants to get close enough to see if Liam is still in there.

Greyson (It/its)

Room 4 keeps this little menace contained, but what is Greyson? Well, a shadow obviously, but those who’ve seen it only see the shadows of people that it puppets. While trapping its victims it acts polite yet stubborn, but the second its ruse is found out it becomes erratic and violent. It often attempts to guilt its victims to stay with it, crying about how it's so lonely. Those who escape him often attempt to go back out of pity, but the only person seen again after that was Liam, and look what happened to them. Whatever can be believed about Greyson is that it’s that it’s too dangerous to learn more about.

Silas (He/She)

The mysterious ‘owner’ of the cinema. No one’s ever seen him, not even his own employees. However, there are rumors of her being the reason for the cinemas possession. It's joked that the possessions in room 3 are him needing to talk with the manager about business topics. This is unfortunately not too far from the truth, however the manager refuses to talk about the things she’s told him. It’s said he controls the demons in the cinema, but they both seem to act regardless of his desires… or are they doing exactly what he wants?

YEAHHHHH FREAKY CINEMA I LOVE THATTT Also he/him butch Leslie is so incredible I adore him

#FORGOT THAT GREYSON AND SILAS ARE ACTUAL NAMES I WAS LIKE ''OH I KNOW THEM'' LMAOOOO #answered

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

29 - In Memory of Prim and Maya

Victor's Daughter

@lemonluvgirl87 @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1 @voiddylanobrosey

The hovercraft lands outside the capital where my father and I stepped down the ramp. Two guards followed closely with Celestia behind us. My father interviewed my right hand with his leading me inside the mansion. I am dressed in a brown leather jacket, black pants and dusty combat boots. My hair is loose with a small part braided like a crown on my head. I paused outside Snow's old office twisting the doorknob stepping inside. The last time I was in this room was before Snow knew who I really was. Closing the door behind me I shivered feeling the air getting thick standing in front of his desk. There's a file laying there so I opened it sitting in his large chair. "Double bomb project...restarting the games. Capital children." I mumbled to myself glancing to the computer screen with multiple files opened.

Scanning the screen I gasped seeing security footage of outside the capital gates. Everybody is reaching up into the sky for little baskets floating down. The seconds they touched them an explosion goes off. The camera footage gets jolted around and I covered my ears hearing screaming. Closing my eyes for a moment I snapped them open heating Katniss's cry. "Prim - Primrose!" Clutching my hands into fists I gasped about to pass out because I hadn't been told anything. The last time I saw my best friend was this morning saying goodbye. She had finally been labeled as a nurse so proud of herself. Covering my hands over my mouth I sobbed heavily watching her get blown up right before my eyes. My heart tightened when I leaned back in the chair living the nightmare. Foosteps came inside the room and Coin's voice breaks me from the horror. "What are you doing in here. You're not allowed to be in here." She was wearing a grey suit hands on her hips. Rising to my feet I reached back grabbing my knife still crying. "You killed her - you killed Primrose. You traitorous bitch. How could you plan something so horrible. On innocent people just trying to get help!"

"Oh my dear your boyfriend helped give the order. I wasn't gunning for her..but if you kill me then you'll be executed. I don't think you're father could bear that. Yet I believe you're the perfect person to decide the fate of the country." She spoke stepping closer to me grabbing my arm leading me inside a room with the other Victor's. Sitting down in a chair with my father Katniss was on the other side. Twirling the knife in my hands underneath the table I scoffed towards Coin not wanting any part of this meeting. "Why exactly am I here. You killed my best friend so I want to kill you right now. That's the only thing that I care about Coin." She puts her hands on the table staring at me blankly. "Ms. Abernathy you are here because I think the only way to avoid more blood is to bring back the games. And make the capital children have the fate-" Slamming my hands on the table the knife clattered through the room. "No way in hell. Prim might be dead but I won't force Celestia into the torture we faced!"

Shoving my chair back I stomped towards the door gripping the door handle until Katniss spoke up leaning up on the table. "I vote yes. For Prim." Glancing over my shoulder the last vote was my father. Clutching the knife in my other hand there was no going back when he replied softly. "I agree with the - uh mockingjay." He gets to his feet following me into the hallway wrapping his arms around my waist tightly. Flinging my arms around his neck I just started heavy sobbing into his shirt. He moves one hand through my hair just holding me for hours like this. Hours later I didn't even bother going to see Gale before he got transferred to district 2. I couldn't love him anymore after what he did even if it was an accident. Someone knocked on my door where Celestia walked inside immediately hugging me crying that her grandfather was to be executed in a few minutes. "Hey sssh. You don't have to watch it. Or if you do just clutch your medicine bottle tightly for strength." I whispered in her ear not breaking the hug until she was ready. The doctors in 13 had created her some pills she had to take everyday to avoid snapping back into her murderer state. But it wouldn't be a permit thing once we got away from here back to my home.

Another knock came on the door seeing my father dressed in a suit waiting for us. The three of us walked down the road that the tributes had during the first night of the games. Keeping my eyes locked onto Snow I intertwined my right hand with my father's and my left in Celestia's. "For mom. For dad. For myself..." I mumbled under my breath eyeing her grandfather until Coin walked out giving a speech. "For Primrose!" My voice laced with vemon more than ever. The drums stopped behind us so I turned my head watching Katniss draw her bow. She holds it steady then at the last minute fires the arrow into Coin's chest. Celestia shivered burying her face in my chest with people running forward killing her grandfather. My father leads us through the halls away from the madness outside. "He's - he's gone!" She sobbed heavily when I grabbed her shoulders wishing she didn't know this. "Cel, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen this. Just wait a few hours and I'll take you away from here..forever." Climbing inside the hovercraft that would take us back to 12 I didn't bother to know who would lead the new country now. I just wanted to go home and never leave again.

Rubbing my eyes I stretched after hours of flying to see my father helping her off the hovercraft. Katniss and I glanced to one another grabbing the others hand walking down the ramp. The wind blows through my hair as I stand in the doorway arms crossed over my chest. Foosteps approached me from behind sighing heavily as they sat down. I slide down the door watching my father holding two beers. "You deserve this sweetheart. I am truly sorry I couldn't protect you from the games. Y/n, I would have fought tooth and nail to keep you safe." Reaching over I grabbed his hand locking eyes with him then opening my beer having a long sip. Giving him a poker face he chuckled taking a drink himself. "You did everything you could. I am only sorry that I forced Celestia to come live with us. I just couldn't leave her. The possibility of getting executed was too real." He moves onto my side of the doorway so we could watch the little girl sleeping in my old bedroom that I shared with Prim. He had his own bedroom. Katniss and Peeta shared the other one in this large house. "You're mother would be proud. Taking that little girl in is the best decision you made...I love you Y/n." Laying my head against his chest he draped his arm over my shoulder watching the rain fall outside. "I love you too dad. Mom would be proud of you too. You are the best father I could have asked for." This new life would be hard but we would face whatever came our way together in the name of my mother and my best friend, Maya Flower and Primrose Everdeen.

Wow readers, so this is the end. I can't believe it. I honestly loved writing Haymitch as a dad and the readers own storyline.

Please check out my other books and like always comments are really appreciated ❤️

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riahlynn101 · 11 months

Text

"Of Headaches and Heartaches" (17).

Big thanks to @halogenrobotics for helping me with this story!

Hope you all enjoy :D!!

Chapter 17

Vanessa opened her eyes. The light in the room was dim, likely still quite early in the morning. Next to her, Gregory slept soundly. He was cuddled up next to Luis, who was sleeping just as soundly. She breathed deeply, basking in their presence.

It occurred to her then, eyes drifting closed, that her dreams last night had been pleasant. Perhaps something to dwell on later.

-x-x-x-

Luis groaned, sitting up. He doesn’t recall falling asleep last night, but obviously he had at some point. Gregory is wide awake next to him, sandwiched between Vanessa and him. Except, her side of the bed’s empty. So, either she’s awake, or moved to her own bedroom at some point during the night.

“Hey, kiddo. Happy birthday.” He pats Gregory on the head, which makes the kid giggle. “Ready to have a fun-filled day?”

Gregory frowned. “My…birthday…?”

“Your birthday’s April 9th, right?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Well, here.” Luis grabbed his phone off the nightstand. He turns it on to the lock-screen, showing it to Gregory. “See the date, there?”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Can you read it for me?”

Gregory stared blankly at him. “No.”

“Right ... .can you read the number at least?”

“Nine?”

“Very good, Gregory. So, that word there is April. If we put them together, we get-”

“My birthday!” He cheered.

“Good job.” Luis reached over to ruffle his hair. “Now, let’s go celebrate!”

-x-x-x-

The Pizzaplex was dead, the parking lot empty and workers and customers gone for the night. There are very few perks of being a security guard here, but one of the biggest is having the security clearance to be able to sneak in after hours. Thank goodness they haven’t switched over to their summer hours yet, otherwise this little excursion might not work. (They could only keep Gregory out so late before he started getting fussy).

She went in first, doing a perimeter check and turning off the cameras from the security room. No one checked them anyway - all the safety features were just that. Features. Things Faz-Entertainment could point to when disaster strikes and say, “See? We did something.” Besides, Vanessa had an early morning shift tomorrow by herself. If the worst came to worst, she could upload some footage from a few nights back.

Vanessa returned to the door, ushering in Luis and Gregory. The latter was snoozing peacefully in Luis’ arms. They put him down for his nap way later than normal, and the poor boy absolutely refused to wake up. He clung to Luis, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Is everything ready?” Luis asked.

They entered the elevator. “Yep.” She pushed the button for the second floor.

“Good.”

-x-x-x-

Luis lightly shook Gregory, bouncing him. “Hey, buddy, look where we are.”

Gregory groaned, lifting his head. Bleary, unfocused eyes blinked up at the bright lights overhead. “Papa Luis, where-”

Luis put him down, turning him around.

Gregory squealed, jumping up and down. All four main animatronics, the Daycare Attendant, and some of S.T.A.F.F bots stand patiently, waiting for the party to start.

“Mister Sun!” He laughed, lunging for the robot.

Reflexively, the Daycare Attendant catches him, bringing him in for a tight squeeze. “Rule breaker,” he teased in a slightly exasperated tone. “No running inside.”

Gregory laughed again. “You’re silly.”

-x-x-x-

“Thanks again, you guys, for putting this together on such short notice. Are you sure you won’t tell management?” Vanessa asked.

They were seated at the tables near the stage. Blue and red streamers hung off of the nearby photobooth and the ends of the two tables they squished together so everyone could sit together. A large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese sat in the center of the table. The plates and cups Luis picked out at the mall sat in front of all the animatronics. Even though none of them could eat, all of them seemed delighted at being included. Freddy even chuckled a little at the images on them. They were of two dogs, one dressed in a cop uniform and the other dressed in a fireman’s uniform. The man that had helped him, said his own son had loved the show. And Gregory seems to like it, his eyes lit up when he saw it anyway. So, Luis supposed, the man was right.

Roxanne scoffed. “Those losers? No way.”

“Roxy,” Freddy started, tone mild, “remember what I told you about appropriate language in front of the children?”

“But they are. Anyways, we love kids.”

“And the little guy’s cute too,” Monty added, reaching over to ruffle Gregory’s hair.

Gregory grinned, taking another bite of his pizza.

“And thank you, Chica, for making the pizza. These tastes delicious.”

“You’re welcome!” She chirped.

-x-x-x-

After the pizza was gone, most of the animatronics started making their way back to their respective rooms. S.T.A.F.F bots quietly clean up the mess. Vanessa and Luis helped them, trying to make sure nothing was left behind, lest the corporate gods find out.

Freddy was the last to depart. He was seated across from Gregory, listening intently.

“And then…and then, I’s….I went phew really, really fast down the slide. But-but Mister Sun catched me!” Gregory said, wrapping up the story he’d been telling Freddy.

“Wow! That sounds really fast! Good thing Sunny was there, right?”

Gregory nods. “Mhm.” He tilted his head to the side. “Freddy, how fast you go?”

“Well, not fast at all. Roxanne is the fastest out of all of us, but B-” He closed his mouth, cutting himself off. “How old are you turning?”

“Four!” He shouted, holding four fingers in the air.

“What a big age!” Freddy smiled. “Pretty soon you’ll be able to play any of the games here. Maybe for your next birthday your parents can take you to Monty Golf, laser tag, Roxanne’s Raceway, or the arcade.”

“Whoa!” Gregory’s eyes practically lit up.

“Gregory!” Vanessa called, waving him over. “Tell Freddy goodbye.”

“Aw…” Gregory frowned, sliding off the bench. He waved at him sadly. “Hav’ta go. Mama ‘Nessa said. Bye-bye, Freddy.”

“Goodbye, Superstar, come again soon.”

-x-x-x-

“Thank you, Mama ‘Nessa, Papa Luis,” Gregory said. Vanessa leaned over him, buckling him into the car seat.

“No problem. But your birthday isn't over yet.”

“Huh? Where we going?” Gregory asked.

Luis looks at Gregory in the rearview mirror, smirking. “Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Gregory,” Vanessa said, sliding into the passenger seat, “We haven’t even left the parking lot yet.”

Beside her, Luis hid his laughter behind his hand.

-x-x-x-

“This is the bestest!” Gregory cheered, melted vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup clinging to his chubby cheeks. A few rainbow sprinkles had found their way to his messy hair.

Vanessa sat next to him, eating mint-chocolate chip ice cream in a cone. Gingerly, she picked the sprinkles out of his hair. Every so often, she had to move his ice cream sundae away from the edge of the table.

Luis enjoyed his cookie dough ice cream.

The ice cream shop was fairly busy. Likely since the Pizzaplex was closed for the night. The owner-the son of the previous owner-runs around, fulfilling orders as well as taking them. The shop generally had workers (usually the owner’s kids and wife), but no one else seemed to be here tonight.

“Poor guy,” Vanessa said, wincing in sympathy when he mixed up two of the orders. Both of the customers looked pissed. “Maybe we should’ve come earlier.”

“It’s fine.” Luis took Gregory’s empty cup, using a napkin to wipe off the table. “Besides, John is a natural.”

Vanessa eyed him.

“Watch,” he said, pointing over to the counter.

At the counter, the two people whose orders he mixed up were now happily chatting with the owner. John continued to make orders, but also chatted with the customers. He looked completely unbothered.

“See,” Luis said, “Things have a way of working themselves out.”

Vanessa said nothing, finishing her ice cream.

-x-x-x-

By the time they made it back to the apartment, it was nighttime and very nearly Gregory’s bedtime. But since he took a nap later in the day, Vanessa made the executive decision that he could stay up for a couple more hours.

“Okay, we have two more surprises for you,” Vanessa said, guiding him to the couch.

Gregory looked up at them. “What is it?”

Luis practically ran to her coat closet. He pulled out two packages. One from each of them. Returning to his spot next to Vanessa, he handed her a package wrapped in newspaper comics.

“Here you go, kiddo.” Luis put the present in Gregory’s lap.

For a second, Gregory hesitated. He sat there, looking back-and-forth between the box and Luis, as if asking for permission.

“Go ahead.”

Gregory ripped into the paper, a smile stretching across his face. The newspaper fell away, and Luis caught it, setting it on the coffee table for later disposal.

“A box!” He shouted. “I love it.” He hugged the unassuming brown box to his chest.

Luis smiled, gently taking the box from him. “I’m very glad you love the box, but your present is inside the box.”

“Whoa! Really?” Gregory tilted his head to the side, looking at the box with all the intensity that a four-year-old can muster.

“Yep!” Luis opened the box, placing it back on Gregory’s lap. “See what’s inside?”

“Shoes!” He pulled them from the box. “Freddy shoes!” Gregory bounced in his spot. “Mama ‘Nessa, look!” Excitedly, he pointed out the small Freddy symbol on the heel. “Thank you, Papa Luis.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his tiny arms around Luis.

“No problem.”

Vanessa eyed her own gift. It was nowhere near as cool as the Pizzaplex-themed sneakers. Her’s was much lighter. She worried, watching the exchange between the boys.

“And Vanessa got you something too,” Luis said, gesturing to her. He stood up, allowing her to bend down in front of Gregory. As he passed her, Luis sent her a reassuring grin.

(How did he always seem to know?)

Vanessa put her present on his lap. Unlike last time, Gregory started tearing into it immediately.

“Gregory.” Vanessa started.

He looked at her, pausing mid-tear.

“My present ... it might not be... good. I tried to look for something that I thought you would enjoy, but…” Vanessa sighed, feeling beyond disappointed in herself. After how many weeks of knowing Gregory, and she barely knew what he liked. And, of course, it never occurred to her to just ask him. (Because that would have been too easy). “So, I made you something instead.”

Gregory giggled. “Mama ‘Nessa, you’re so silly.”

Taken back, Vanessa stared at Gregory. “Wha-”

“You already gave me the bestest present ever!”

“I did?” She asked, quirking a brow. A quick glance at Luis told her that she hadn’t given Gregory any gifts recently. Unless food counted, but that was kind of a necessity.

“Uh, huh,” he said.

“And what was that?” Vanessa asked, playing along. Anything to avoid the inevitable disappointment, and feelings of rejection from setting in.

“You!”

“Me?” Vanessa placed a hand over her chest.

Gregory nodded. “Yep! A mommy!”

Instantly, Vanessa was flooded with emotions. Some good, some bad. She didn’t know whether to hug Gregory and never let him go, or run and hide.

She felt sick.

She’d never felt better.

She’d…

…a pair of amber eyes flashed into her mind’s eye.

“Mama ‘Nessa?” Gregory tugged on her sleeve. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry. Thank you for that.” Vanessa said, forcing the thoughts from her head.

He grinned widely, returning to her present. Just like last time, the newspaper was set aside to be dealt with later. Gregory opened the box. A framed photo of all three of them together, sat at the bottom of the box.

Excitedly, he pulled the picture out. “That’s- that’s us. Papa Luis, look!” He held the picture up for Luis to see.

Vanessa sighed in relief. “I’m happy you like it.”

“I love it,” he said, holding it to his chest.

-x-x-x-

They sat together on the couch. Luis on one side, Vanessa on the other, and Gregory in between them. Luis put on Tangled.

“Mama ‘Nessa,” Gregory nudged her, “she looks like you.” He pointed at the screen, where Rapunzel was threatening a man with a frying pan.

“Thanks, kid,” she murmured.

Gregory smiled, leaning into her side.

-x-x-x-

It didn’t take long for Gregory to fall asleep. He was sprawled out across the couch, head on Vanessa’s lap and legs on Luis’. Forcing them to scoot closer to each other. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but it could be a lot worse.

Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder, idly stroking Gregory’s hair. It was getting long. Pretty soon, if his family wasn’t found, they’d have to take him to a hairdresser, or cut it themselves.

Luis hummed along to one of the many musical numbers.

She smiled to herself. What would she do without him?

Really, honestly, truly, what would Vanessa do without him?

Without him, she’d still be wearing a bunny costume murdering people.

Without Luis, she’d have to manage a sickly, traumatized toddler all by herself.

Without him, Vanessa wouldn’t be here today. Sitting on the couch, watching “Tangled,” of all things.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light of the TV, a smile on his face.

It occurred to Vanessa then, that despite everything she’d done not to, she kind of, sort of, really, really liked Luis. Like a lot. That kind of ‘like’ that made you want to do something stupid, like making breakfast in bed for a person on your only day off or watching ten seasons of a show you despise because they love it so much, and seeing them light up is worth the headache.

The realization made her face burn red, and she was glad that they'd decided to turn the lights off for the movie.

She needed to tell him.

“Luis?” Mentally, Vanessa kicked herself. Why, oh, why, was she born without a proper brain-to-mouth filter?

“Yes?” He whispered back, glancing down at Gregory. “Is something wrong?”

“I think…I think…I like you.” She waved her hands furiously in the air. “But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way! We don’t have to talk about what I just said ever again. It was stupid, I’m sorry for bringing it-”

“Vanessa,” Luis interrupted, “I like you too.”

“Oh.” Vanessa’s face reddened further. “That’s good.”

“So, does this mean we’re a thing?”

“Like boyfriend-girlfriend?”

Luis nodded.

“Yes,” Vanessa answered without hesitation. Realizing how that might come off, she hurriedly added, “If you want.”

Gently, Luis grabbed her by the chin, and turned Vanessa’s head so she was looking at him. “‘Ness, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, I want more than to be here with you, right now. So, yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

They stared each other in the eyes for a minute longer, Luis stroked his thumb along her jawline, before they both leaned in at the same time…

…and proceeded to bump noses.

“Sorry,” Vanessa mumbled, rubbing at her nose.

“No, no, it’s my fault.”

They laughed it off and leaned in again. This time they both remembered to turn their heads a different way. But kissing was harder than either of them realized, and they missed the mark a couple of times.

In the background, “At last I see the Light,” played.

Finally, through fits of giggles, their lips met.

His lips are blissfully warm, like slipping under the covers after a cold winter day.

They pulled away from each other. Both smiling from ear-to-ear, like the fools they are. Luis tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

This, right here, was happiness. And no one can ever take this away from her. Ever.

#cross posted on ao3 #fnaf gregory #fnaf fanfic #fnaf vanessa #fnaf au #vanessa x luis #fnaf luis #fnaf security breach

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kattartsblog · 1 year

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Rated: T

Warnings: Swearing, Partial Nudity, and Alcohol

Ilona was given a camcorder as a Christmas gift.

Author’s note: This is the only fic written as a script.

SETTING: RISOTTO’S APARTMENT

*There’s a slight beeping noise as the camcorder turns on, it starts off blurry at first but then it clears up to show Ilona in their room with Melone*

Ilona: Is this thing on?

Melone: I believe so. The directions said that the light should be on if you’re recording.

Ilona: Yay! Thanks again for helping me.

Melone: Anytime Ilona. Be sure to erase the footage later.

*Melone walks off screen, he closes the door*

Ilona: (into camera) Ok… well how do I start this, I mean it’s going to get thrown out so I guess I’ll say things I’ll never say to anyone. *they take a deep breath* Melone is really hot and I want to tell him but I’m too chicken. I think Illuso is a stupid mother fucker. Formaggio is like a big brother to me and I think of Risotto as like the cool dad I never got to meet. Prosciutto is a prude but it’s understandable because he’s not very attractive. I got nothing to say about Pesci, he’s pretty chill. I’m jealous that Gelato and Sorbet are in a loving relationship, they’re basically a top item. Ghiaccio is way too scary and I can never really talk to him. And finally I wish I didn’t have a stand, that way I could get rid of these stupid fucking cat paws! *a moment of silence, they catch their breath* Ok, now we can fool around.

*Ilona takes the camera off of the stand and opens the door, there is Risotto’s living room. Gelato is having a screaming match with Ghiaccio*

Gelato: It’s not my fault you didn’t get new wine.

Ghiaccio: You were supposed to get it, puttana!

Ilona: (to camera) And we’re going to a different room.

*Ilona takes the camera downstairs to the meeting area, there Formaggio is sprawled out shirtless on the couch.*

Ilona: (to camera) Ah, and here we see the exotic drunken cheese man. See how he’s… OH HECK! *they cover up the lense with their paw* (to Formaggio) FORMAGGIO PUT YOUR PANTS ON! I can see your junk through your boxers.

*Formaggio is snapped to attention and puts his pants back on. The camera lens is then uncovered.*

Formaggio: Sorry about that Illy~. Wait, are you filming?

Ilona: Si Signore, you’re on air.

Formaggio: *He adjusts himself to sit upright and look “charming”* Ok, interview me. Ask me anything.

Ilona: Ok… would you rather get punched in the nards by Ghiaccio’s White Album, or become a wrinkly old man for a week by Prosciutto’s Grateful Dead?

Formaggio: Ugh, amico… you are making this too easy. Grateful Dead, duh! I wanna keep my balls!

Ilona: Wow, that’s a ballsy choice.

Formaggio: Shut your mouth kid.

*The camera cuts to a few minutes later, Pesci is on screen doing some sort of karaoke. He’s haphazardly messing up words every once in a while.*

Illuso: Ilona, are you filming this?

Ilona: *they turned the camera to Illuso* Yeah.

Illuso: After Pesci, film me singing!

Ilona: You know I’m getting rid of this after tonight right?

Illuso: I know, but that's why it’s better to have this burned in your memories than on a camcorder.

*Once Pesci was finished, Illuso gets up and changes the song on the boombox*

Ilona: (to camera) What a drama king.

*suddenly the sound of Prosciutto screaming could be heard, Ilona points the camera at Prosciutto rushing into the meeting room. There’s black smoke everywhere.*

Prosciutto: Open the fucking balcony!

*Pesci goes to open up the balcony door while everyone starts to cough up the black smoke*

Pesci: Fratello, what happened?

Prosciutto: I was able to put out the fire, but the Pesce al Forno burned.

Ghiaccio: I told you that I should have done the cooking! But does anyone listen to me, no!

Prosciutto: Well now we won’t have any.

Ilona: Uh… If I may-

*The camera cuts to Ilona, Formaggio, Melone, and Illuso walking in the streets.*

Illuso: Why was I dragged along?

Formaggio: Because I like to tourture you. *he give a cocky smile*

Illuso: Fuck you.

Melone: (to Ilona) I can hold the camera if you want.

Ilona: Oh, ok then. *Ilona hands the camera off to Melone*

Melone: Care to fill the audience on what’s happening?

Ilona: Ok, so. To make a long story short, the 7 fish feast was abruptly ruined by Prosciutto messing up. And now on christmas eve, we 4 are trekking into town to find more ingredients! To be honest, I wanted to go alone.

Melone: Really?

Ilona: I wanted to prove to Risotto that I’m not that helpless little stray he found a year ago. But I guess this makes sense, he doesn’t trust me enough to handle it.

Melone: Hmm, now that you mention it-

Formaggio: (from a distance) FUCK!

*Illuso is seen laughing at Formaggio who is now on the ground*

Melone: (Shouting to Formaggio) Are you ok?

Formaggio: (From a distance) Nothing’s broken, just tripped!

*The camera cuts again to the entire squad eating dinner*

Ilona: (to camera) Luckily we found a shop that was still open, and we even bought a christmas cake! It’s got ice cream inside.

*Ilona shows a piece of the cake on a plate before the camera cuts once more to everyone leaving the apartment. Though Prosciutto is standing in the doorway talking to Risotto. Ilona’s taking the camera up to their room, but a feint conversation can be heard*

Risotto: You’re staying over for the night?

Prosciutto: Yes, at least I won’t have to- *Prosciutto sees the camera’s red light* Liquirizia, you better erase that footage or I’ll get rid of that toy for good.

Ilona: Oh, whoops! Sorry, don’t worry this’ll all gone by morning.

Prosciutto: It better!

*Ilona quickly covers the camera lens and puts it on the desk, they look quite sad.*

Ilona: (into camera) …I know I promised to get rid of the tape but… I’ll hide it. That way I can always have this happy memory of everyone together. I’m so happy that I have such good friends. Well Buon Natale! December 24th 19-

*The camcorder is shut off*

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whimsicalworldofme · 2 years

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Saving Grace: Chapter Forty-One

A bombing in Vienna gives Steve his best lead yet on Bucky and brings Grace to the brink of an emotional breakdown.

(A/N: Heyooo we're well into Civil War here. It's gonna hurt for a little while. I'm so very sorry (kind of...not entirely). Stick with Grace though, I promise everything's gonna work out in the end.)

The news coverage looped over the same footage yet again, showing the wreckage of the building in Vienna where several political figures had gathered to publicly sign the Sokovia Accords the day before. Grace sat on the end of the bed in the hotel room as Steve bustled around, bouncing between packing his things up, taking calls, sending texts, and pausing now and then to watch the news.

“Among those confirmed dead is King T’Chaka of Wakanda,” the news reporter stated, the first new update in the hour. “As of right now, we still do not have an identity on the suspected bomber, but we do have security footage.”

The freeze frame image of Bucky came up on the screen again, making Grace’s stomach knot.

“If you see this man do not approach him but contact your local police immediately.”

“Do you think HYDRA got hold of him again?” Grace asked, turning to see Steve texting, likely coordinating Sam.

“I don’t know,” Steve strode over to the closet and retrieved his shield, setting it down on the bed beside her before kneeling down to go through his suitcase again. “He wouldn’t just blow up a bunch of political figures on his own for no reason. If he even did it at all. Have you seen my passport?”

“Front pocket,” she popped up when someone knocked on the door, leaving Steve to finish his preparations.

When she looked out the peephole, her mood soured even further, something she hadn’t thought possible. Opening the door, she stared down Sharon on the other side, tapping a file folder in hand as she waited. Steve had warned her she was coming, that she had gotten him information on Bucky’s whereabouts. That didn’t mean Grace had to be ok with it. Or let the woman inside their hotel room. She made a point to stand fully in the doorway, that way it was obvious Sharon wasn’t welcome to come in.

“Yes?” Grace tried to keep her tone civil, but the rage she felt over the other woman trying to kiss her fiancé bubbled up again.

“Is Steve here?” Sharon asked. “He requested information.”

“I will give it to him,” Grace held a hand out for the file, refusing to move out of the way. Luckily Steve was engrossed in something else. Sharon reluctantly passed the file over. “Is there anything else pertinent to the situation?” She asked curtly, tipping her chin upwards slightly. Sharon shook her head no. “Thank you.”

She shut the door in the agent’s face, relishing the expression of shock and disdain she’d elicited. With the door shut, Grace began flipping through the paperwork, trying to get an idea of where Bucky might be, where her fiancé and his team would be heading.

“You really shouldn’t be looking at that,” Steve scolded gently, plucking the folder from her grasp. He kissed her lightly as he stepped past her, thumbing through the file himself.

“I don’t like being in the dark,” Grace stated, dropping to a seat on the end of the bed again. “Especially now that the Accords are in effect and you won’t sign. I’m glad you didn’t, but it’s dangerous.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you knowing everything,” Steve shut the folder. “If I get arrested, the less you know, the better. That way they can’t prosecute you as an accessory.”

“I hate this,” she held her head in her hands, staring at the floor. “If you get caught –”

“I won’t get caught,” he stated, kneeling in front of her so he could look her in the eye. He took her hands in his, pulling them away from her face. He gently kissed the back of each hand. “I’m going to get Bucky somewhere safe, get him help, then we’re going to finish our European vacation. I saw you eyeing the website for Euro Disney on your phone. What do you say to extending our vacation a week? Think you can take the time away from work?”

“For you?” She felt a smile creeping its way across her lips. “Absolutely. But what about that beautiful village you painted? Wouldn’t you rather got there?”

“That’s for our honeymoon, remember?” He offered her a faint smile, but she could tell he was hiding his own nerves. This wasn’t a normal situation and it had potential to go very wrong.

His phone beeped and his head drooped, displeased that he couldn’t give her his full attention. He kissed each of her hands again, before letting go and pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the most recent message.

“I have to go,” he said after checking the screen. “All my stuff is packed, so it’ll be out of your way and you won’t have to worry about it.”

Grace got to her feet and slipped her arms around him, an unsettling fear knotting her stomach. She clung to him tightly, resting her head on his chest as she shut her eyes. Whenever Steve had to go save the world, all she wanted was to hold onto him as long as possible, to imprint in her mind the feeling of his arms around her and remember his warmth and the smell of his skin. He kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly, trying to do the same.

“I love you,” she said, still nestling against him, unwilling to let go.

“I love you too,” he tipped her face upwards, kissing her deeply before reluctantly letting her go and stepping back. “I will be back before you know it. Promise.”

“Stay safe,” she said, following him to the door. “Tell Sam I said hi.”

“I will,” he smiled at her, pausing to give her one more kiss, before he stepped into the hallway. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She leaned against the doorframe and watched him go. Pepper had already flown home because she had important meetings she couldn’t postpone. Tony and Danny were up in Scotland looking at some investment opportunity, something Grace hadn’t caught all the details about, but he was supposed to be back the next day. That would hopefully be enough time for Steve and Sam to get to Budapest, get Bucky and take him somewhere safe, and get Steve back to London before Tony could know he had gone missing. It would be tight, but they could do it.

Luckily, Grace had plenty to distract her from worry. With guidebook in hand, she ventured out into London, determined to see as much as possible before her time there was up. She did the self-guided tours of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. The Abbey in particular was a marvel, all the kings and nobles interred there, the stunning architecture, the history. There was nothing quite like it in the United States. After the Abbey, she walked the same streets through Whitehall that Steve had showed her and visited the Churchill bunker museum. As she wandered through, she couldn’t help but wonder what life must’ve been like for Steve during the war. They’d talked about it some, back in the days when she’d been his therapist and every now and then little things still came up, but being down there, it hit her how truly frightening it must have all been.

“Well, that kind of completely defeated the purpose of the day,” she muttered to herself once she finally emerged back outside. “I’m supposed to be doing things to keep my mind off of Steve.”

She found an Indian place in her guidebook to stop at for lunch before spending her entire afternoon in the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery. By the time she was finished with her sightseeing for the day, Grace felt too tired to figure out where to go for dinner so she hopped on the tube and headed back to her hotel, opting for room service, which she ate in bed while watching movies on tv. She never slept well with Steve away. Even when they’d just been roommates, she always slept better knowing he was in the apartment. Shutting off her alarms, she decided to stay up late watching romcoms, cartoons, and reruns of I Love Lucy until she finally conked out, too exhausted to notice Steve was gone.

Her head shot off her pillow and she sat bolt upright when she heard frantic pounding on her door. The tv was still running and the sun slipping through the cracks in the curtains. She scrambled to fling the covers off top of her and scootched out of the bed, struggling to get her bearings.

“Who the hell…” she shuffled to the door, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. Peering through the peephole she saw Tony in the hallway still frantically pounding on the door. She unlocked it and swung it open. “Dad? What’s going on?”

She yawned involuntarily and watched as he hurried into the room and went immediately for the remote on her bedside table, flipping the channel to bring up a news report. There was footage running of a motorcycle chase, somewhere in Europe, and then Grace saw Sam. Then some other guy in a cat costume she didn’t recognize. Then Steve.

“Shit,” Grace muttered under her breath.

“The details are still unclear, but the participants in the high-speed chase, including Captain America, have been arrested.”

“Shit,” she exclaimed.

It was hard to sift through what she was feeling right that moment. Fear, obviously, over the fact that Steve was now in the grasp of bureaucratic officials who wanted him on a leash and would threaten to put him in jail to get him to comply. Anger over the fact that he had promised this wouldn’t happen and yet now she was sitting on the end of her hotel bed, yet again, watching a news report of mayhem, including footage of her fiancé being loaded into the back of a police car, like a common criminal, his freedom and their future suddenly uncertain. Guilt that she now had to lie to her father and pretend she hadn’t known about Steve’s plan.

“Did you know he was gonna do this?” Tony asked, stepping between her and the tv. She noted he was in a suit and tie, not at all his typical day to day wear and definitely not what he’d been wearing when he left for Scotland with Danny.

Grace simply blinked. “No,” she lied.

“Don’t’ lie to me, Grace,” he tipped his head to the side and frowned, clearly disappointed. “It’s not cute. And if you’re going to lie, you better get a lot more adept at it.”

“Managed to do it pretty well for about two years to keep my relationship secret from you,” she stated flatly. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the actual answers to.”

“Jesus, Gracie,” he growled, running a hand along his jaw. Whirling around he clicked off the television, leaving them in awkward quiet. He spun back around. “They want to put him in jail, do you get that? Why didn’t you come to me? I could’ve stopped him before it got to this point.”

Grace frowned and stared down at her hands, clasping them in her lap. All the intense emotions bubbling up in her, she wasn’t sure it would be wise to speak.

“Can you fix it?” She asked quietly, voice cracking, tears threatening to fall. She knew that if they put Steve in superhero jail, the odds were good that he might disappear forever. “You know Steve doesn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal. He was just trying to save his best friend who needs real, medical help. You would do the same if it was Rhodey.”

“I’m going to Berlin right now to see what I can do,” he sighed, going to the closet and opening up the doors, looking around. He found her suitcase and pulled it out, setting it in front of her. “Pack your stuff, you’re going back home.”

“No, I’m going with you to Berlin,” Grace insisted, getting up from her seat.

“Absolutely not,” Tony grew authoritative and stern in a way he’d never been with her before.

“But—”

“Grace, I said no,” he snapped, face screwed up angrily. “This isn’t some local jail where you go to pay bail and free your boyfriend for something as petty as unpaid parking tickets. This is an international law enforcement agency that wants to lock him away for terrorism.”

“But Dad—”

“No buts!” He shouted, openly exasperated and not in the joking way. “I said no, that’s final,” he hefted her suitcase onto the bed, unzipped it and opened it up. “Pack your bags, kid,” he went back to the closet and grabbed what remained of her clothing from in there and dumped it on top of the suitcase, haphazardly. “Wheels up in an hour.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, you can’t just issue orders to me like that,” Grace scowled.

A knock on the door prevented her from saying anything that she might regret. She ignored her father who was shoving her clothes into her suitcase, sans folding, trying to make them fit around the stuff Steve had already insisted she pack away. Checking the peephole again, she swung the door Inward to let in Happy, who was dressed in a black suit, his usual work attire.

“Happy, I hope you’re here to take Dad away,” she huffed, walking away from the door. “Dad, stop.” She saw him scoop out one of the drawers of clothes, dumping them on top of the mess already in her suitcase. “Stop!”

Tony froze, a pained look on his face, the same sort of wounded expression he’d had when she chewed him out for threatening Steve. He stepped away from the mound of clothes, hands in the air. Grace heaved a sigh and went over to fix the mess.

“Just go,” she sighed, reorganizing.

“Happy’s not here for me,” Tony said, stepping out of the way. “He’s going to get you to the airport and fly back with you to make sure you get back home.” Turning to the side he muttered to Happy. “Don’t let her out of your sight, don’t let her talk to anyone, and don’t let her talk you into taking her anywhere but straight home.”

“Unbelievable,” Grace raged, grabbed the mess of her clothes and threw them on the bed. She saw both Happy and Tony cower. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

“I am putting my ass on the line to bail your boyfriend out,” Tony hollered. “A thank you would be nice!”

“He wouldn’t be in this mess if you had done what you know is right and opposed those stupid fucking accords,” she shouted right back at him, which took him so startlingly aback that he had to step away from her.

“I’m gonna wait out in the hall,” Happy stated, ducking out of the room as quickly as he could.

“I guess I deserved that,” Tony mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck, one hand on his waist, clearly uncertain what to do. They’d never raised their voices with each other in the four years. It stung. “I could’ve come at it better.”

Grace glared at him as she began folding the messy blob of clothes that she’d flung onto the bed. Despite her absolutely rage, she knew her father had a point. Showing up in Berlin wouldn’t help anything. She wasn’t a lawyer, she didn’t have any say in what happened with the Avengers, she couldn’t change anything by being there. Growling in frustration, she finished folding a sweater and shoved it down in her suitcase before going for the next piece of clothing.

“You know I’m just trying to keep you safe, right?” He asked, taking a timid step closer, sliding his hands in his pockets. “These shady government agents, they wouldn’t hesitate to try to charge you as an accessory if they even sniff a hint that you were complicit in Rogers’ antics in Budapest. They could come after you as leverage against him and me. You’ll be safest at home.”

The folding of clothes was taking too long, so she followed her father’s initial instinct and just crammed everything in the suitcase before flipping the lid shut, leaning heavily on it with one hand and zipping it with the other. The zipper strained against the unkempt load, but held. She went to the closet and pulled out the bags from Hamley’s toy store, the ones holding the teddy bears she and Steve had bought, and her stomach knotted.

What if he’s gone forever? What if these just collect dust or end up in a thrift store because we never have kids?

She shook the thought off and plopped the bags on the bed beside her suitcase before going to the nightstand to grab her chargers, iPad, cellphone, and all the bits and bobs that had accumulated over the course of the week.

“Please say something, Grace,” Tony pleaded. “I’m getting flashbacks to my childhood here.”

“I don’t know what there is to say, Dad,” she snapped. “You promised that everything would be fine in regard to the Accords, but it’s very obviously not, as I tried to warn you. Steve promised me he wouldn’t run into any trouble getting Bucky, that proved to be an empty promise. Nobody listens to me. The superheroes know everything! Just trust us, Grace! Go home, Grace. Everything will be fine, Grace. Well, everything’s not fine,” she spat. “Everything is fucked up. My fiancé is on the brink of being disappeared by some shady government agency. I’m worried you’ll be disappeared next if you make the tiniest misstep, which you do regularly and often intentionally.”

She felt burning, furious tears roll down her cheeks and sniffed, refusing to look her father in the eye as he stepped closer laying a hand on her back. Shaking her head, she shut her eyes and drew in ragged breaths, struggling not to absolutely lose it and break down. Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes she tried to steady her breathing.

“Come here,” Tony said, pulling her into him as he kissed the top of her head and held her tight. Grace laid her head against his chest and tried to focus on her breathing. “I’m sorry,” he finally said what she’d been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry this happened. And I’m sorry it’s partly my fault.” He rubbed her back. “I’m going to do my best to fix it. But I can’t focus on anything else if I’m not one hundred percent sure you’re safe.”

“Ok,” she resigned herself to her fate. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” he chuckled, resting his cheek on the top of her head and giving her a squeeze. “Pepper gets a few shouting sessions out a month. Just try not to sync up together, ok? I don’t think I could handle that.”

“I’ll do my best,” she sighed and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Gracie,” he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Come on, I’ll help you carry your stuff to the car.”

Chapter 40

Masterlist

Chapter 42

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mediamixs · 8 months

Text

Halloween: a horror micro-story for every day of October

October begins today, the month of Halloween. To celebrate, here you will find 31 horror micro-stories, which are by anonymous authors and have been collected from various forums and internet websites.

1-Scratching Growing up with cats I got used to the sound of scratching on my bedroom door while I slept. Now that I live alone it is much more disturbing.

2-Friendless I got a text from my friend asking me when I'm going to go play at his house. I have no friends.

3-Dolls When I was a kid I was teased for playing with dolls. Now they are dead, and all my dolls are alive.

4-Surprise You were disturbed to see me. I thought I heard you missed me, today while I was being watched over.

5-Femicide My mother forbade me to talk about seeing and talking to dead people, now she's harassing me to denounce Dad for killing her.

6-A Shadow That shadow at the end of the hallway scared me. I closed my eyes but never opened them again.

7-Funeral The funeral attendees never came out of the catacombs. Something locked the crypt door from the inside.

8-TV My TV keeps turning on by itself. It’s annoying, but what’s more worrisome is how it only shows footage of me standing in my living room.

9-Best time My mom told me she had the best time playing with my little sister today. My sister went missing in 2002 — they found her body in 2006.

10-Children I just saw the children playing, admiring how high they have swung. But others tell me they’re just swaying in the wind where they were hung.

11-Bell Can you hear the beautiful ring of the bell? That means it’s time to drag you down to hell.

12-Run Roses are red, violets are blue. You’d better run, I’m coming for you.

13-Head Wrapped in sheets and cuddled in bed.You’ll foolishly expose your sweet, precious head…

14-It was me I arrived at the funeral a few minutes late. Nobody acknowledged me, and I figured out why when I looked into the casket and saw myself.

15-Nobody As I walked up the driveway with my new friend, I introduced him to my dad. “What friend?!” he asked with bewilderment in his eyes.

16-The thing She woke up to an unusual silence in their bedroom. She looked over as the thing that laid where her husband use to be rose from under the sheets.

17-The other When she turned around, she saw her own self, dressed in different clothes. Her heart went into shock and the other self gently helped her to the floor as she died.

18-Mystery I got a haunted doll in the mail today. If only I could find where she ran off too…

19-Neighbor I opened my front door to the frantic pounding of my next door neighbor. To my horror it was something that was wearing his skin…

20-Good Taste The stew I was eating was delicious, and I wanted to give my husband a taste. That’s when I found his wedding ring in my bowl, still on his finger.

21-Obsession Every morning my husband tells me he loves me, I really wish he’d stop. I murdered him last year, but he still won’t leave me alone.

22-The last day Being the first to respond to a fatal car accident is always the most traumatic thing I see as a police officer. But today, when the crushed body of the little dead boy strapped in his car seat opened his eyes and giggled at me when I tried to peel him out of the wreckage, I immediately knew that today would be my last day on the force.

23-Loyal dog The dog sits at my gate every morning and night when I leave and come home from work. Even after all this time she can still smell her owner’s blood on my hands.

24-A stranger in the mirror I’d been noticing it for months, that tiny lag in my reflection, not that anyone believed me. Today was different she didn’t even attempt to mimic me she stood there smiling, I think she wants to come out.

25-She is dead My kids were excited to tell me about the day they just had with their mother. I don't know how to tell them she died this morning on the way to work.

26-Hand After dating all through high school and college, our daughter’s boyfriend finally came by today to ask my husband and me for her hand. We gave it to him, hoping that he’ll finally tell us where the rest of her is.

27-Revenge When I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of cracking, I am aware that it is her rigor mortis body snapping unto itself as she crawls down the hallway . I knew it was only a matter of time before she would seek her revenge.

28-Angel of death My grandmother told me it was a gift to see the angel of death in front of people’s houses, to know he would be collecting someone there soon. I thought it was a gift too, until the day I began to see it in front of every house.

29-Alive or dead? I think I’m dead. But the other spirits keep telling me I’m alive.

30-Coffin There was a photo of me sleeping on beautiful red silk on my phone. What I don’t know is how the phone got into the coffin with me.

31-Only child I used to be considered the evil twin. But now I’m considered an only child.

#horror #halloween #october #micro-story

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brokenbunnny · 2 years

Text

STRIKE #3

SATURDAY

*SPECTRE, dressed in a casual outfit with a satchel, leg vine and home made mask, looks down at the card then up at an old looking house, confused.*

SPECTRE: Is this the right place?

*BLURRY FACE appears behind them.*

BLURRY FACE: You get a card too?

*SPECTRE shows her the card.*

SPECTRE: Yeah, I did.

But I'm not sure this is the correct address...

BLURRY FACE: Of course it is.

The best place to hide is in plain sight.

*BLURRY FACE opens the door and walks in, so does SPECTRE.*

SPECTRE: Wow!

*Panel shows the inside of the old house is incredibly high tech and doesn't match the outside of the building.*

BLURRY FACE: Told ya!

CREAMPUFF: Oh, more people!

Is The Actor with you guys or are we going to have to wait a little longer?

SPECTRE: Oh wow! Creampuff! I've seen you on TV!

*CREAMPUFF stands up from the desk she was sitting on and walks over to join BLURRY FACE and SPECTRE.*

CREAMPUFF: Really? How was I? I'm not entirely used to being in front of a camera...

SPECTRE: You were, uh, are so cool!

CREAMPUFF: Aw, thanks!

*THE ACTOR and OBSIDIAN walk in.*

BLURRY FACE: Is that Obsidian!!?

Why's he here!!?

CREAMPUFF: Well, The Actor, here thought it would be a good idea to join forces with a villain.

THE ACTOR: Creampuff, that's enough.

They are here to help us find Guy, as are the rest of you.

CREAMPUFF: Fine, whatever, I still don't trust them.

SPECTRE: Um uh, sorry but...

...Do you have a plan to find him? Guy, I mean.

He may have been a very popular hero a year ago but not much is known about him.

BLURRY FACE: Yeah, I may have been watching from the shadows for all those years but even I barely know him.

THE ACTOR: Well...

...I don't exactly have a plan but...

*THE ACTOR pulls up a file on a large computer.*

THE ACTOR: This is Guy's file.

Everything he documented, every fight he fought, all his personal information, It's all here.

I thought we could find some sort of clue in here but I've been over it a million times and found nothing.

OBSIDIAN: Wait, are you telling me you went through all the trouble of getting us all here and you don't even have a plan? *Sarcastically* >tt< Some hero.

SPECTRE: Did you try checking the cities surveillance footage of the day he went missing?

THE ACTOR: Hm?

*SPECTRE walks over to the computer and pulls up the cities surveillance.*

SPECTRE: Now, when was he last seen?

THE ACTOR: I last had contact with him on his birthday.

BLURRY FACE: February 28!

THE ACTOR: Yes...

...How did you know that?

BLURRY FACE: Been studying heroes for a living, remember? I know all kinds of stuff about Guy, and you too!

CREAMPUFF: So, your a stalker?

OBSIDIAN: Creepy.

BLURRY FACE: I'm not a stalker!

And I wouldn't be talking, Obsidian. I know stuff all about you too!

OBSIDIAN: Wait, what!!?

*SPECTRE pulls up the surveillance of February 28th on the computer and points at the footage on the right hand corner.*

SPECTRE: Is that him?

THE ACTOR: Woah! You found him!

Nice work, Bug!

SPECTRE: Oh uh, could you call me Spectre?

It's more of a alias I've been working on...

THE ACTOR: Sure thing, Spectre.

BLURRY FACE: Oh! And y'all can call me Blurry Face!!

CREAMPUFF: And why's that?

BLURRY FACE: You'll see why, eventually.

SPECTRE: It looks like he ran into a bar. How old is he?

BLURRY FACE: 18, to young to be drinking.

CREAMPUFF: Stalker.

OBSIDIAN: Creepy.

THE ACTOR: And why is he in his uniform? He's retired.

SPECTRE: Maybe we should go to the bar and investigate.

THE ACTOR: Great idea, Spectre!

*SPECTRE smiles. OBSIDIAN takes a closer look at the computer screen*

OBSIDIAN: Nope, nine, nada, no can do.

THE ACTOR: Hm?

OBSIDIAN: That's The Tipsy Possum bar.

CREAMPUFF: So?

OBSIDIAN: That place is crawling with goons, villains and other *Quotation fingers* evil doers.

CREAMPUFF: Ok, and...?

OBSIDIAN: The criminal underworld here lives by a very strict code, if they find out I broke that code I'm dead.

And that's not me being funny, they'll probably kill me or worse.

CREAMPUFF: Fine with me.

THE ACTOR: Creampuff!

CREAMPUFF: What? Their probably lying to you so they can stay here and use your cool tech to do who knows what!

THE ACTOR: I doubt that.

Besides if anyone does try to attack you, they'll have to go through me!

OBSIDIAN: No offense, but I don't like those chances.

THAT NIGHT

*The team arrive in front of The Tipsy Possum bar.*

BLURRY FACE: Oh, looks like you were able to drag the edge lord here.

OBSIDIAN: Edge lord?

THE ACTOR: Remember, we are here for investigation and interrogation only.

No fights.

SPECTRE: Okie!!

CREAMPUFF: Fine.

*The team enter the bar and split up to individually investigate, OBSIDIAN notices some sketchy guys in the corner giving them dirty looks.*

OBSIDIAN: Shit.

#hero #hero stuff #teen heroes #villain x hero #hero team #villian #hero x villain #comic books #comic #original comic #comics #original #original story #original character #original work #oc #oc team #lgbtq+#lgbtq characters

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marvelmusing · 2 years

Text

Stand-off

Part of the Guilty of Love AU

Pairing: Vigilante!Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: As New York searches for the Punisher yet again, things come to a head regarding both your work with Dinah and your loyalty to Billy.

Word Count: 1.7K

My Masterlist

Detective Mahoney scribbles something down in his notebook, and you take the opportunity to look around the room. You know there’s a large blood stain on the wall directly behind you. The majority of the furniture has either been smashed or flipped upside down. There’s more blood on the opposite wall, and on the floor near Mahoney’s feet.

He looks back up at you, a brow raised as he puts his pen down.

“You wanna tell me why you and Agent Madani were pointing guns at each other instead of Castle and Russo?” He asks. You hold his gaze before shrugging lightly.

“Difference in opinion.”

Six Hours Earlier.

Your leg bounces nervously as your eyes scan the crowd of the lobby.

“Do you have to look so tense?” Dinah remarks. You glance at her briefly before turning your attention back to the crowd.

“I’m not tense.” You are tense. Seeing Billy’s face on the news was a shock. Now everyone knows that Billy and Frank are alive. Meaning that your investigation has been reopened.

You’re also not sleeping well. Billy hasn’t been home since that footage went public. He’d called you from a payphone, telling you that he’d be staying with Frank and David to keep you safe. You understand why. But you hate him being gone. Your sleep is easily disrupted, it takes hours of lying there, wondering about Billy, before exhaustion finally takes you. Even then, you’re awake by five in the morning.

Dinah wanted to meet with an informant here at the Royal Hospitality hotel, hoping they could provide some insight on the men who ambushed her operation, and killed her partner, Sam. Though she’s certain that her informant will tell her that these dead mercenaries all point towards Billy. You haven’t tried to breach the subject with her, knowing that Sam’s death still weighs heavily on her. But her vendetta against Billy concerns you.

Dinah’s informant is currently providing security for Senator Ori, the man who’s life has been threatened by Lewis Wilson - the bomber that had gone after Curtis.

There’s too many coincidences going on - too many overlapping lives and stories and relationships. It makes your head hurt. Which is the main reason why you’re so tense.

Because if Lewis turns up to kill the Senator, you know that Frank and Billy won’t just stand by and let that happen.

You sigh, checking your watch as Dinah’s informant doesn’t show.

A high pitched alarm blares through the lobby, the fire alarm most likely. You look around as people begin to file out through the front doors. A few of the security guards place a hand on their earpiece, before moving further into the building. Dinah looks around before turning back to you.

“Follow me.”

“Dinah, this is a bad-“ Your voice trails off when you realise she’s already out of earshot. You sigh, before following her.

She heads down a hallway, and opens up a doorway. There’s a sharp breeze as you stare up at the countless flights of stairs that seem to spiral forever.

“There’s two stairways. I’ll take the other one?” You suggest, and she nods. “Be careful.” You add, as she pulls out her gun and makes her way up the stairs.

“You too.” She calls out. You head down the hallway towards the door leading to the other set of stairs.

You pass very few people on your way up. The occasional member of staff rushing down at the sound of the alarm.

Once you’ve cleared your stairwell, finding nothing suspicious, you head along a corridor to enter the same stairwell as Dinah - hoping that she won’t shoot you if you appear in front of her. You make your way down one flight of stairs, and then you see her.

Dinah fires her gun down the stairwell, and you rush to the edge to see who she’s shooting at. It’s Billy and Frank. Your heart nearly stops. Billy’s on the floor, as if he’s been shoved. So is Frank, but he’s clutching at his head, his hand soaked in blood. Frank must have pushed Billy out of the path of the bullet. Dinah adjusts her aim, levelling her gun at Billy. You pull your own gun out immediately.

“Drop it.” You order Dinah, aiming your gun at her. She looks over at you, surprise filling her features. You risk another glance down at Billy and his eyes meet yours. Dinah notices the main focus of your attention.

“Put the gun down.” She tells you. You shake your head. “That’s an order.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“Castle is my witness. I’ll charge you with obstruction.”

“Go ahead.” She can see the resolve in your eyes, so she changes her tactic.

“We all want the same people: Cereberus, Rawlins, all of it.”

“Maybe,” you concede with a small shrug. “But we’re going to do it in very different ways.”

“Russo killed my partner.” She insists.

“Billy didn’t kill Sam.” She looks down at Billy’s eyes fixed on you. You had only pulled your gun out when she had it aimed at Billy. A smirk tugs at her lips, as the pieces slot into place. There’s hurt in her eyes, hiding behind the anger, but you won’t back down.

“Of course you’d believe him.” You tilt your head aside before you nod and say casually,

“Yeah. I would.” Then your voice hardens, “And I do, so drop it.”

She narrows her eyes at you, attempting to step towards the stairs leading to Billy. You immediately fire a shot to block her exit, the sound of it echoing down the stairwell. The bullet embeds itself into the wall beside her. She flinches backwards.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dinah. But if you come for him, I will.”

You try to keep your eyes on her, but your gaze flickers down a few floors to where Billy’s standing.

“I need Castle, he’s my only witness for this case.”

“Then you should think twice before taking a headshot.” You snap.

Dinah’s bullet grazed the side of Frank’s head, but he seems to be okay. The thought that the bullet was actually meant for Billy makes you sick.

“Go now.” You tell him. Billy’s eyes are wide, and he shakes his head slightly. He takes one step up as if to come up to you. You force yourself to sound strong as you order, “Frank, get him out of here.”

Frank tugs at Billy’s shoulder and your hear him say quietly,

“Come on, Bill.”

You can still hear their footsteps descending the stairs when the police burst onto the landing, demanding for you and Dinah to drop your weapons. You click the safety off, letting your gun fall.

Several agents grab you, hauling you against the wall. Dinah soon ends up beside you, protesting against their actions. Your hands are tugged behind you, and you feel the handcuffs clasp around your wrists. You turn your head to meet Dinah’s eyes.

“You’re gonna wish you shot me.” She sneers. You laugh shortly,

“Sounds like you’re finally talking some sense, Madani.”

»»---------------------►

After your interview with Mahoney, no one seemed interested in your stand-off with Dinah. After all, the Punisher was back - your department had more important things to deal with.

You’ve been swarmed with reports and supposed sightings of Billy. Just looking at them increases your stress levels. Your desk is covered in papers and countless case files in an attempt to look like you’re actively searching for Billy. But you're afraid to actually instigate any official orders. You don't know what Billy's planning. What if you accidentally find him?

You empty a large box full of files with a sigh, your brow furrowed as you try to come up with some means to look productive for your superiors. Then a familiar voice remarks,

“Lookin for somethin?” Your heart plummets, and you stop breathing. Billy steps into your office with a small smile on his face. You're dreaming, you must be. This must be some sort of nightmare.

“What are you doing here?” You say, your voice quiet and panicked.

“Need you to arrest me.”

“What? No!” He looks unreasonably calm, but you know Billy. There's worry in his eyes. Whatever plan he's following has too many invariables - which Billy doesn't like.

“Sweetheart, if you don't someone is about to rush in here and do it - and I’d rather it be you.” You stare at him for a moment.

He's right, of course he's right. Your entire department will have seen him walk into your office. They probably think you’re being murdered. You tug open your drawers and pull out a pair of handcuffs before making your way over to him.

He holds his wrists out to you, and you look up at his eyes as you secure the first circle of metal around his wrist. A small smirk tugs at his lips,

“You know, when I imagined this, you were the one wearin those.” You breathe out a sharp laugh, shaking your head at him. Of course he would try and make you laugh - even now.

“Billy, what's going on?” He can see how confused and frightened you are.

“You know I woulda told you everythin. But this plan very last minute. We’re goin on record about Kandahar. We’ll bring Rawlins down officially, and in return get our names cleared.”

“And you came here? Not Homeland?”

“You’re the only one I trust with the truth. You’ll do right by me and Frank.” You swallow hard, before saying in a near whisper.

“Billy, I don’t want to see you locked away.”

“It won’t come to that.” He insists, but you can see he’s nervous. There’s no guarantee.

Billy had trusted someone to clear his name before - and regretted it. You’ll do everything in your power to make sure that doesn't happen again.

You ensure that the handcuffs are secured, though not too tightly. Billy smiles softly at you, curling his fingers around yours. You sigh,

“Well, William Russo, you’re under arrest on suspicion of vigilantism. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say can be used in a court of law.” You sigh again before adding, “Although, hopefully it won't come to that.”

“Hopefully not.” He says softly. Then the corner of his mouth tugs into a smirk. “I don't know any lawyers.”

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @earthfairytale @profoundme444

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warmau · 3 years

Text

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him.

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.”

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job.

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else.

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least.

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’”

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website.

#listen idk what this is really but im worldbuilding a lot arent i #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #minghao au #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 au #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #the8 #minghao #seventeen #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #violence/ weapons/

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

The Argument || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: you and peter get in a fight and the other avengers can’t help but overhear

a/n: i have like four things in my drafts right now that i can’t seem to finish, but i had a sudden burst of inspiration to write this instead of studying so here we are! hope you enjoy! (reader’s super power is similar to wanda’s in a way except with gold rather than red)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: lots of swearing, loud arguing, angst with happy ending

masterlist || request

You and your boyfriend Peter stood, glaring at each other from opposite corners of your bedroom. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides as you looked at him from across the room with anger mixed hurt written all over your face.

“Are you serious right now, Peter?” You asked him, raising your voice with each sentence. “Are you dead serious right now? You know I’m a fucking Avenger right? I’m sorry if me being around other guys makes you uncomfortable but it’s kind of part of my job.”

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “So what? This is my fault now?” He gestured towards himself, raising his voice at you.

“You’re the one who’s pissed at me because I’m nice to other guys.” You scoffed. “It’s fine, Peter. Next time a guy needs saving I’ll be sure to tell him that Spider-Man doesn’t trust his girlfriend so he’ll have to figure it out himself.”

At the words that just came out of your mouth, Peter laughed out loud. It wasn’t the sweet laugh you always loved hearing in the mornings or the one where he would find something so hilarious that he would be out of breath, but one that just screamed that he could not believe what you had just said.

“Me?” He shouted. “You’re the one who always gets mad at me for ‘getting too cozy with girls’. I’m doing my job! You see one photo of me saving a girl- from a fire might I add- and you don’t talk to me for two days because you were jealous. What do you want me to do?”

Peter bringing up this situation again just made you fume even more and he knew that. Despite the fact that you and Peter rarely fought, this instance had been mentioned in several arguments between the two of you, but you always held your ground.

You were now the one throwing your hands up in the air, beginning to pace across the room. “Oh! This fucking conversation again!” You shouted at him. “How many times do we have to go over this? When are you going to get it? She kissed you!”

You still remember every part of the footage from that day and the image had burned itself into your brain. It was a solo day for Spider-Man so you hadn’t found out until you had seen the news footage of your boyfriend swinging the girl to safety with her arms wrapped tightly around him and her head buried in the crook of his neck. Peter’s arm was wrapped securely around her waist as he assured her that everything was going to be okay. As soon as he stopped swinging, however, and landed her safely on the ground, she had placed her hands on either side of Peter’s masked face and pulled him into a kiss. Although he quickly scrambled out of it, you couldn’t help but feel sick seeing the image.

“I was wearing my mask, Y/n!” He shouted back, tugging on his hair in frustration. “It’s not like I went in to kiss her. She kissed me! I didn’t do anything!”

At his words, you stopped pacing and stomped across the room, stopping in front of your boyfriend. “You’re right, you didn’t do anything.” You spat. “She kissed you and yeah that’s fucked up, but you know what’s more fucked up? That you didn’t tell me! You knew some girl had kissed you and you just hoped I would never find out. Do you know what it was like to find out from a fucking news broadcast? Fuck, Peter! You lied to me about it!”

Peter took a deep breath, looking anywhere besides your face. “I’m not doing this.” He told you finally, shoving past you to reach the door and stomping out of your room.

Peter aggressively threw open your door and you yelled out of frustration before following him out the room. Your hands were once again balled into fists at your sides as you watched Peter stomp out of your bedroom and down the hallway leading up to the common room, all the while yelling at him to stop.

“Peter!” You shouted.

“I’m not talking to you like this!” He yelled back, his back still facing towards you. “When you calm down and admit that you’re wrong-“

He knew what he was doing and he knew it was just pissing you off to a new extreme. So much so, you could feel the golden glow of your magic radiating off your hands that were balled into fists at your sides.

When Peter continued walking with his back turned towards you, refusing to speak to you further, you flicked your wrist causing the magical glow to spread out from your hand to your boyfriend, forcing him to turn around and face you, stopping him in his spot.

“Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you.” You told him, the anger radiating from your body in the from of the golden glow of your magic surrounding you.

“Did you just use magic on me?” Peter asked in a mix of shock, disgust and anger.

What the two of you didn’t realize in the midst of your fuming rage at each other was that the two of you had stopped in front of the common room. What you also hadn’t noticed was that the room was occupied by some of your... colleagues.

“Did she-“ Sam began.

“She did.” Nat finished.

Peter and you continued to argue back and forth about the audacity of the other, oblivious to the others hearing every word and watching the two of you throw harsh words at each other. It was an endless argument concerning who had the right to be angry and the unanswerable question of who was really at fault. During which the rest of the group of revelers in the common room watched and listened.

“Who wants the bet this is about that girl that kissed underoos?” Tony asked.

“That? That was so long ago though.” Steve replied.

“A girl never forgets.” Nat finished, kicking back in her seat. “How would you feel if you saw someone kissing your girlfriend.” She asked Steve.

“Never had one.” Steve shrugged.

An awkward silence filled the room for a brief moment before Sam began again.

“Steve’s right.” He said. “What about yesterday when Y/n saved that guy from getting his car thrown by that giant android and it turned out to be her ex-boyfriend?”

The group collectively nodded their heads, remembering the events of yesterday and that night when Peter had become more awkward than usual after you confessed the situation to him.

You had never seen Peter so jealous before. The two of you met after you and Peter had graduated high school and with your busy schedules you were barely finding time to hang out with your friends, never mind meet new guys. Peter and your’s relationship was usually one of romantic bliss. Despite the chaos and danger occurring in each of your lives, there was barely an argument between the two of you besides the occasional mention of that one time.

You told Peter later that night about how you recognized the guy you saved as your ex-boyfriend from high school.You didn’t expect much of a reaction considering you had dated the guy so long ago and you were wearing your mask that covered the upper half of your face to maintain your secret identity. It wasn’t even as though he could recognize you- you were just doing your job. You told Peter out of wanting to be honest with him, not because you thought it mattered- because it didn't. Peter upon your confession, however, was standoffish the remainder of the night seeming to be lost in his own head.

You didn’t give it much thought and decided to give him his own space until this morning when he confronted you about it, leading to the heated argument the two of you were in right now.

“Both of you are right.” Wanda finally spoke up.

Everyone in the room then turned their heads to face her.

“Did you... did you read their minds?”

“No.” She told them. “These walls aren’t very thick.”

“Should we stop them?” Steve asked.

To that, both you and Peter shouted “No!”

That was the moment though where you both suddenly realized that there was a whole room of people watching as you and Peter argued. Both of you stopped arguing suddenly and turned to face the room full of your colleagues.

“Did you... um... hear all of that?” Peter asked, cooling off from the heated argument you two shared seconds before as he fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet their eyes.

“Do you even know how loud you two were being?” Tony asked, standing up from his seat. “It’s impossible not to hear. Both of you have to drop it-”

“But Mr. Stark-” Peter began.

“Nope.” Tony cut him off. “No ‘buts’. Are you two even listening to yourselves?”

“Tony-” Steve started, attempting to intervene and have Tony drop the situation.

“Listen Rogers, I know you’ve been waiting decades for a first date, but someone has to play couples counselor here.” He told him matter-of-factly turning back to face the two of you. “You.” He pointed at you first. “That kid would never ‘cheat’ on you okay? He worships the ground you walk on so drop it. I’m sick and tired of hearing this frankly idiotic conversation every other week.”

At his words, you felt your fists unclench at your sides and your muscles relax. You knew he was right. As hurt as you were, you knew Peter would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. You knew he loved you just as much as- if not more than- you loved him.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, Tony began again- this time pointing at Peter.

“And you.” He began. Although you were looking at Tony, you could see your boyfriend stiffen in the corner of your eye. “What did you want her to do? Let that guy die because he... what? Took her on a few dates back in high school? You two have been to space together for god’s sakes. She was just doing her job and you know that.”

The two of you stood in front of Tony Stark himself now, knowing he was right, but not knowing what to say. You turned to look at Peter, seeing his shoulders slouched and his cheeks red likely from both the attention and embarrassment.

“You two can apologize now.” Tony said finally, striding back to the armchair he was sitting in prior to the lecture he gave the two of you and seating himself in it.

You and Peter turned to each other, visibly relaxing as you stared at each other. Despite the flaws the both of you had, you each cared for the other more than anyone else.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, being the first to apologize. “I’m sorry, Pete.” You apologized to him in almost a whisper. “I guess I was just hurt that you thought I could look at anyone else the way that I look at you.”

Peter sighed and you could see the sadness in his eyes that he felt from hurting you. You knew he never meant to hurt you and he was just hurt the same way you were.

“No... I’m sorry, Y/n.” He stepped forward to meet you, placing his hands gently on your arms that were wrapped around yourself. “It just sucked to think of you with some other guy.”

At his apology, you uncrossed your arms, instead reaching out for Peter’s hands. Squeezing his hands in yours you told him, “Peter, he doesn’t matter to me anymore. I love you.”

“Not just that, Y/n.” Although your words meant a lot to him, Peter shook his head. “I don’t know... sometimes I just think that you might want something more... I don’t know... normal. I can’t give you that normal, peaceful stuff so I guess I just get worried. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though.”

Now it was your turn to shake your head as you gazed at your boyfriend. “Pete, you know I could never do normal” You chuckled. “I just got so angry at you that I had magic radiating off of me. Sure, normal would be easier, but I would choose crazy every day as long as I get to be with you.”

Finally you felt the last of the argument and rage that came with it disappear as a feeling of peace and calm washed over the two of you. You let go of Peter’s hands only to wrap them around his neck while his made their away around your torso.

“Gross.” Nat mumbled from her seat.

“I think I actually preferred when they were arguing.” Tony said in disgust.

You and Peter smiled at each other, able to hear the conversation between the others going on in the common room. You laughed as you looked into his eyes, slowly pulling your boyfriend into a kiss.

You and your boyfriend laughed into the kiss as you heard the group erupt into groans of disgust and annoyance. Although you and Peter didn’t have the perfect relationship and each of you had your flaws, at the end of the day you knew you would choose each other every time.

“Okay... Now do we stop them?”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #peter parker drabble #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

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