It’s a year after it was revealed that the aformentioned Decathlon captain had been the daughter of acclaimed criminal “Vulture,” the news broadcasted like a mouse dangling from a wire to the press. Branded with shame and grief, Liz’s mother removed her daughter from her district-assigned school. It had been rumored that they were moving to Oregon. An empty locker is left abandoned with a magnet mirror on the inside door, the sticky white paper leftover of a scraped-off sticker, and there will be a yearbook picture without a predecessor.
Liz and her mother relocated promptly after the end of her father’s hearing—him requesting that neither be present during; whether it be by shame, regret, dignity, or all is unknown. Liz will be tranferring to a different school, she told, her mother working to maintain a clean professional slate, and dodging peeving journalist, hooded, skeptical eyes, the awkward, heavy pauses once discovering her last name. The woman is in the process of legally changing her daughter’s last name to her maiden one, and getting new documentation to match.
Vulture’s trial had been all over the news, because of course it’s worth the spot of the eleven o'clock news that New York’s own spider superhero had been the one to take down the vicious Vulture.
Because of course.
Michelle knows she should feel bad—she does feel bad. Partially. She had known of Liz, but the two had never been close. Never in the same social crowd. Never in the same vicinity actually, because of class, because of clubs, because of popularity and types—sometimes Michelle thinks that Liz might have felt piteous for her once—
Well that part’s a lie, probably.
Because of mixed emotions, she couldn’t force herself to feel too bad.
That, and other motives Michelle would rather not talk about because reasons. Most times, she prefers to not think of it at all.
There’s something cute and harmless and sweet about having a crush on your lab partner.
It’s almost like a rite of passage—there’s the crush on the sports player, the crush on a celebrity, and your school’s most popular, and then comes the lab partner. It’s like wearing thigh-high socks to gym class, and one’s first plum-purple hickey. It’s getting a triple ear-piercing at the mall. It’s seeing one’s first PG-13 movie unsupervised, or attending a social dance. It’s mulled aspirations of mistletoe kisses on pink-nude blushed cheeks, senior-year sleepovers that turn into valentines cut out of spiral-bound notebooks, shaped into hearts, and, words permanent, written in ballpoint Bic pens by sweaty palms. It’s a two-for-one birthday wish daydream happy ending. A reverie. It’s fun. Flirty. Innocent.
There’s nothing innocent about Michelle’s crush on Peter Parker.
these two are apparently the most ikemen members of hakog ak u and hell ye s I want me some of tha t and I’m kinda sad there’s no snow this december bc snow is beautiful and my birthday is in december and it’s tw o in the morn ing!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !! !
Your head was throbbing and you groaned softly as you attempted to open your eyes. God it seemed like you had been out forever, basically dead to the world. You could remember the last thing you saw, that brute of a mans fist coming at your face in slow motion. And then nothing.
Your eyes felt like they were glued closed, and you fought to blink them open, not expecting the excruciatingly fluorescent lights that greeted you when you finally did. Everything was white, and you squeezed your lids closed tight thinking you might still be in an unconscious dream.
A shadow passed over you and suddenly a man was standing there, over you, his bright green eyes staring at you like you were something out of a horror movie. You saw his eyebrows knit as he leaned in closer and you tried to shrink away, opening your mouth to tell him to get out of your space but what came out of your mouth was a dry and shriveled “help”.
[A/N]:This was requested by @amandulie ages ago and I’m sorry for the wait, sometimes my mind just runs away from me and I have to abandon projects for a while to catch up with it again :)
unorthodox meeting ends with Tony handling clean-up for someone he’s never met
before. Fury was so going to hear about this.
Warnings: Gore (Just a bit), Swearing, Sexual stuff (but nothing explicit, just mentionings), Fem!reader
classical music playing in the background did little to entertain the bored
multi-billionaire lounging around at the bar. One would think as the owner of
his company, he could be excused from his own parties but no, the board had set
up compulsory events that required his presence. To maintain a healthy public
image, they’d said.
So, he had
come, at Pepper’s prompting. His CEO was merciless and didn’t tolerate his
whining, secretly, he was endlessly turned on by her dominating presence in the
office, especially when she wore that sensible but sexy outfit she usually did.
Urgh, just thinking about it made him hot under the collar, ridiculous really
with how many notches he already had on his bedpost.
And hello there, the mini-me down below made
an appearance in the worst possible moment, causing the genius to grimace
behind the rim of his scotch. “Jesus.” He breathed harshly and shifted
uncomfortably, his grey pinstriped dress-pants feeling a bit too tight for
comfort. Still, that Pepper could make him so needy without even being in the
same fucking city had to say something about the depth of his affection for his
became obvious that thinking peaceful thoughts wouldn’t help with his little
problem (Thanks a lot Bruce!), Tony made a break for the nearest bathroom, wrenching
the door open without looking at the sign pinned to the mahogany door, locking
it brusquely behind himself with a heavy sigh. Facing the door, he didn’t see
the eyes sliding over his well-defined back, assessing and evaluating, sizing
him up as a potential threat.
is awkward.” The happy-go-lucky voice didn’t match the sight that greeted the
Stark heir. The near naked woman was halfway through the motion of pulling the
thin slippery thread tight over the fifth stitch in a row lacing up the once-gaping
wound on her stomach.
came halfway when the man had barged in on you (quite rudely if you did say so
yourself), the familiar face making you involuntarily raise an eyebrow in
disbelief. Tony Stark, self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, and
philanthropist was staring at her with equal amounts of shock and disgust, eyes
flickering between your face, your stomach and the body lying in a pool of
blood on the floor at your feet.
you drew the needle through flesh once again without making a sound, eyes fixed
on the superhero who’d caught you, literally, with your pants down. “Are you
just going to stare all day or actually do something about that little problem
in your pocket?” You asked boldly, a grin on your face, as you regarded Tony
with a teasing slant of your eyes.
flickered to the gun lying innocently on the ceramic sink, looking out of place
on the glimmering white porcelain, in the back of his mind, Tony noted that
whoever cleaned this place probably had OCD, and whatever compassion he possessed
went out to he or she because the mystery woman was going to make their life
difficult what with all the bloodstains she was leaving everywhere. “I wasn’t
expecting this when I came in search for an empty bathroom.” He admitted,
wondering dimly if he should be more wary than he was currently feeling.
one ever does.” You laughed, two more stitches done, two to go before you could
leave this shithole (and damn if the party wasn’t boring as hell!). Seeing the
billionaire about to reach for the gun, you grabbed a throwing knife from your
thigh high boot and gave it a threatening twirl.
“Yeah no, don’t
even think about it dude, even with my guts pilling to the floor, I can still
bash a few heads, though you’re welcome to try.” You grin went razor sharp then
and Tony wisely backed off. “Yeah, alright, of course you can.” He was still in
shock, it was written clearly on his face and while intimidation seemed like a
good option, you were too damn tired to be serious right now. Finishing up the
stitching, you poked at the wound curiously before nodding in satisfaction
before looking up at the man who had so rudely barged in on you.
Tilting your head to the side as you methodically cleaned the needle and slid
it into place in your gleaming silver watch that had miraculously escaped the
bloodbath. “You still have a hard on.” The brazen comment made Tony choke on
his saliva and absentmindedly, he couldn’t help but agree with the whisper in
that back of his head that pointed out that Natasha would love this girl.
exactly have experience with that sort of thing since I’m not a male and all,
but I do know that, generally, people don’t jack-off in the same room as a dead
body.” You continued, taking a moment to nudge the dead man with the toe of her
take the fun out of it, the smell tends to be repulsive after a while.” Tony
nodded, watching as you pulled the discarded dress over your head, the
suspiciously unmarred midnight fabric concealing any possible bloodstain. “Sooo,
what’d he do?” Best get information while he could and since the woman with the
gun didn’t seem too concerned with him knowing, he decided to push a bit. It
was his specialty after all.
some pedophile and rapist. I dunno, didn’t really read the specifics. He was my
target, anyway.” Flippantly, you brushed your hair out with newly washed fingers
and plucked the gun from the counter, sliding it into the thigh holster high up
on your leg and Tony had to resist looking at the smooth expanse of soft skin you
revealed while doing so. “He was an ass though, like a huge, skyscraper huge,
ass.” You muttered before straightening up, throwing Tony a smile and looking
honest-to-god normal, like you hadn’t just killed a man.
The raised eyebrow stopped him in his tracks, reminding him once again that you
were the one in control here. “You ask a lot of questions, Mr. Stark.” Poking
him pointedly in the chest, you pouted a bit as his expression turned
indecipherable. “You Avengers, always poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Who’d you think sent me?” And with that, you sidestepped the billionaire,
patting him on the chest with a flirtatious wiggle of your fingers before you
were gone, the door clicking shut in your wake.
left to clean up your mess, feeling a bit duped as he did so. He’d only wanted
to go the the fuckin bathroom, now he had an international mercenary on his
hands instead. Fuck. At least he got
rid of his boner… Small mercies, small mercies…
the SHIELD issued consultant ID with your face on in his pocket just might’ve
made it worth it. There was only one way to find out.