dead man's toe

— easy ease

Tagging: @elektranahtcios
Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming

Note: I was really intrigued by Michelle (MJ). an this is also totally not inspired by a spur-of-the moment 2 a.m. post: “i am getting the urge to write a disgustingly trope-y, fluff of mj and peter (spideychelle) that involves spin the bottle, eating taiyaki ice cream in the rain, and misinforming unintended text messages”

It’s been a year after Liz Allan-Toomes left.

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.

|| continue reading on ao3 ||

★ ヽ(উ ▽ ≦ )人(ㅍ▽ㅍ)ノ ☆

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”.



Originally posted by thunderbirdthor

[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 :) 

Summary: An 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

The soft 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 former PA.

When it 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.

“Well, this 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.  

You’d only 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.

Sighing, 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.

Brown 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.

“Pff, no 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.

“You know.” 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.

“I don’t 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 strappy heels.

“It does 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.

“Hmm? Just 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.

“Who sent-“ 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.

Tony was 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

Although, 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.

But Fury was going to hear about this.