#I just KNOW when my period creeps up on me I'll be a whining sad piss baby who's openly pathetic about needing human connection | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

masterjasper223 · 1 year

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Then and Now - Blood Moon

(Warnings: underage sex, period sex, angst)

Lupin Then

Dating a werewolf wasn't something to romanticise, but that wasn't to say it didn't come with its advantages.

For one, no one had more sympathy for you when you were on your period. Remus knew all too well what it was like to have to deal with something painful month after month, something that many of your classmates were blissfully exempt from, yet would most likely be repulsed to hear about.

In fact, you were acutely aware that Remus had it worse on every score, especially the latter; his "condition" was a very well kept secret at Hogwarts, and his education was only able to continue for as long as it remained as such.

But somehow, you'd never expected him to understand all of it: the cravings, the sudden drop in self esteem, the bursts of emotion- from irritation, to sadness, to feeling suddenly... well, unbelievably horny.

Yet as it turned out, you were wrong.

********************************************

It's Sunday afternoon, and the two of you are studying together in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Or, rather, that had been the plan, before you'd woken up with the tell-tale discomfort in your lower abdomen.

There's little chance of your being productive today, but you decided to join Remus anyway, vaguely hoping that you'd absorb a few scraps of revision just by being in proximity to him.

But even those prospects are looking grim, as you have yet to summon the energy to open your textbook, and are currently slumped across the desk with your cheek pressed into the faded leather cover.

"Remus... Why do you have to be so handsome?" you sigh, staring vacantly at his profile. Something about the way his brows knit together when he's concentrating is very alluring all of a sudden.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Remus replies, a little testily. To his credit, he's actually trying to get some work done, and has already filled half of the roll of parchment in front him.

"I want to study," you grumble. "But I got my period this morning."

Remus pauses mid-scrawl, shooting you a sympathetic glance. "Then I really am sorry. But you'll be all right if you skip a day or two- I'll give you a copy of my notes to go over later."

"Thanks, Remus," you say, smiling up at him affectionately.

He clears his throat, and shakes his hair out of his eyes in that twitchy sort of way that tells you he's feeling self-conscious, before starting writing again- but he's barely jotted down two words before his quill stops on the page.

"Hang on. What does my being handsome have to do with anything, then?" he demands, shooting you a sideways glance.

"Because I'm horny," you whine, watching with some satisfaction as a flush creeps up your boyfriend's neck. "But since I'm on my period, we can't... you know..." You walk your fingers up his arm, searching for the right expression. "...play around." You haven't actually had sex yet, but you've gone a bit further than snogging on more than one occasion.

"Why not?" Remus asks, hoarsely. His quill slides from between his fingers and rolls to the side of his notes, where it lies dripping ink, forgotten.

"Because we'd make a mess, of course. Not to mention, I'm in pain." You grimace, massaging your belly under the desk. "And I don't feel very sexy today."

To your surprise, Remus offers you a wry smile and says, "Ah. That sounds familiar."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The pain, I've told you about. But leading up to the full moon, I'm- something of a mess. Less so now than I used to be, but I still can't stand to see myself in the mirror, and I get... cravings."

"Me, too!" you say, sitting up and swivelling around in your chair to face him. "I crave chocolate worse than if I'd been hounded by dementors."

"I crave red meat," Remus admits. "And, er... human contact."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "You mean you get horny, too?"

Remus nods, his cheeks now very pink. "But I wouldn't want to do anything about it," he says, quickly, glancing away. "I can't. I don't trust myself." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and you're surprised to find that there's a mischievous spark in his eyes when they flick back to yours. "But it's different in your case. Very different."

"How so?" you ask, a little more sharply than you had intended. You can't help but feel that that's rather presumptuous of him.

"Well, for one, this is the safest time of the month for you to have sex," he points out. "And for another, according to- certain sources- it might just be one of the best times."

You understand 'certain sources' to mean the debauched experiences of Sirius Black.

"At the very least, it could provide some temporary relief," Remus continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs with a wince.

"Are you suggesting we...?"

"Well... yes. I mean, only if you want to."

You smirk at him, but a split-second later all of your confidence evaporates. "You wouldn't find it a turn-off?"

"Of course not. I've seen blood before."

"It's not just the blood. I'm..." you trail off, hugging your stomach, reluctant to put too fine a point on it.

"It won't change how sexy I find you," Remus murmurs, gently. "But if you're uncomfortable, we can wait."

You consider for a moment, weighing your options... but with your heart racing, and desire already pooling in your belly, drowning out the pain, it doesn't take you long to make up your mind.

"If you're sure... I mean, I'd like to." You reach across and place your hand on Remus's knee. He stiffens for a moment, swallowing thickly, before laying his fingers over yours and giving them a squeeze. "But where? When?"

Remus glances around the empty classroom. "Not here- we won't be able to relax. There's always the Astronomy Tower, no one goes up there during the day..." He pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "But I, er, think I can arrange for the boys' dormitory to be empty for a few hours. Tonight, if you like."

"Tonight, then," you agree, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

*********************************************

It's not your first time in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and it won't be your last. As promised, the two of you are alone- which is why you're sitting on the end of Remus's four-poster, with your thighs wrapped around his hips, and his arms wrapped around your back, snogging as if your lives depend upon it.

But when you reach between your bodies to grasp his cock through the fabric of his robes, Remus squeezes your waist and draws back, panting, his lips flushed from kissing you and his eyes bright with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, eyes flicking between yours. You nod impatiently, tugging at the front of his robes. "Okay," he chuckles. "Just- tell me if you want to stop."

"You, too," you say, sucking in a big breath before crashing your lips against his. But you're not content with snogging anymore. While Remus's hands cup your cheeks, yours begin to wander, raking down his back and chest, squeezing his biceps and hips, before slipping under the hem of his robes.

The second your fingers close around the hard length straining at his boxers, Remus's fingers are on your bare thighs, hitching your own robes up to your hips, as if he's been waiting for permission to touch you all this time.

"Robes- off-" you manage, in between kisses, and you part just long enough to allow Remus to tug your robes over your head, and to help him do the same. A moment later, your bra joins the pile of robes on the floor. Then he stands up- your legs tighten instinctively around his hips- and lays you down on your back on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows in order to get a good look at you.

"What about the blood?" you ask, breathlessly, plucking at the quilt underneath you.

"That's what scouring charms are for," he says, grinning as he nuzzles your cheek.

Your answering giggle turns into a gasp as his warm hands slide along your bare skin. Remus licks and sucks at your neck as his fingers explore every inch of you, relishing in the little hums and moans you make for him, until he works up the courage to remove the last scraps of fabric separating you from him. Then he begins massaging your inner thigh as he kisses his way down your neck, fingers trembling and blood pounding in his ears.

"Remus... Aren't you forgetting something?" you pout, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he chuckles nervously before kicking them off.

But soon all trace of nerves are gone as you start pumping him in your closed fist, and he becomes putty in your hands, weeping precum into your palm, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them apart.

"Can I- try something?" he asks, squeezing your wrist with shaking fingers to get you to stop. You nod, releasing him, and lick your lips, wondering what he has in store for you.

Remus takes a moment to admire you again as he settles back on his haunches, before slowly lifting your thighs, spreading them, and positioning himself at your entrance. But instead of sliding in, he begins swirling his tip around your slit.

Fuck, that feels good.

You're so warm and slick that the tip of his cock slips in by mistake, and dips in and out of you without any resistance. You're even more sensitive than usual, and the extra moisture feels so delicious on the head of his cock that within minutes the two of you are twitching spasmodically, on the verge of release. Neither of you is going to last long, but as you watch Remus bite down on his lip, and his Adam's apple bob as he moans low in his throat, suddenly you don't care.

"Remus- please..." Your breath catches- you can't think of anything more to say- and a moment later you've stopped thinking altogether as he fills you for the first time.

It's bliss, pure and simple. Even more so when he begins to move, snapping his hips back and forth, creating delicious, slippery friction. You fit him like a glove, but even though you're tight around him he has to be careful only to pull out halfway, in case he slips out.

You can tell that exercising this control is costing Remus a lot; his brows are knitted together in concentration, as if he's studying a particularly tricky revision question, and sweat is trickling down his naked chest.

He's watching you, too; his eyes flick between your face and the place where your bodies are joined, enraptured at the sight of you beneath him. You can feel him drinking it all in: your spread thighs, your trembling breasts, your flushed cheeks and messy hair...

He groans your name, and that's when you feel a throb- a throb so deep within your core, and so unlike anything you've ever felt, that at first you're not sure if it's coming from him or you. Then you feel a tug behind your navel, not unlike the sensation of using a portkey, followed by a flood of wetness between your thighs as a fresh wave of bliss washes over you. Remus's fingers dig into your skin, and he bucks his hips several times before collapsing on top of you and burrowing his face into your neck.

You lie like that for a long time, just holding each other, revelling in one another's warmth; though you can't help but fidget a little, as slick drips from your slit, and his soft cock, still inside you, begins to firm up again, making your sensitive walls tingle.

You wonder if he'll want to go again- wonder if you could even handle it- but eventually Remus pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, propping his chin on one fist. Gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers, "How do you feel?"

"So good." The ache in your belly is gone, and every last muscle in your body seems to sigh with contentment at your release.

"Well, that answers my next question," Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll have to clean up soon."

"Just a bit longer..." you groan, nuzzling your face into his chest. You're already dreading the walk back to your dormitory.

"Of course. I don't mind." He rolls the quilt over you and tucks it under his arm, pressing you more firmly against him. "But- best not stay too long if you want those revision notes. I, er, didn't get much done after our talk earlier."

*******************************************

You're both so spent that neither of you notices the door click shut behind you, or hears the whispered exchange between James and Sirius as they tiptoe down the stairs to the common room.

"Moony, you beast..."

"You owe me ten galleons, Prongs."

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

Lupin Now

When you open the door, Remus is more surprised than you- but then, Dumbledore had told you to expect him.

Clearly, Remus had not been so well informed.

His eyes fly wide, and he whispers your name like a prayer- before quickly clearing his throat, as if to erase it. "Er, how are you?" he asks, with all the forced politeness one uses when addressing a total stranger.

"I'm all right, Remus. Or should that be Professor Lupin?" you tease, managing a grin in spite of the ache in your chest.

"Just Remus, now," he says, returning the smile a little stiffly. "My teaching career was rather short-lived, I'm afraid."

Ah. Perhaps you're not as well informed as you'd thought.

"Well, come in," you say, throwing the door wide. "I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can catch up a bit before we get down to business."

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise Remus isn't following you, and turn to see him framed in the doorway, staring at his feet. Without meeting your gaze, he mutters, "I'm... not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Remus swings his arms, and inspects the frayed sleeve of his robes, clearly stalling for time. In fact, you get the distinct impression that he's searching for an excuse. Finally, he says, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" you echo. You feel a sharp twist in your stomach, and something hot and prickly claws at your throat. "Disappoint me?" you repeat, louder this time. "After all these years, that's what you say to me?"

He flinches, and his face twists as if he's in pain, but he still doesn't look at you.

That does it.

You storm up to him, yank on his sleeve, and, the second he's over the threshold, shove him against the wall next to the door, which slams shut of its own accord. Remus doesn't fight you- in fact, he barely reacts at all- but he does place a hand on your shoulder, as if he's determined to keep you at arm's length.

It's insulting. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to draw your wand.

"When you cut me out of your life the second we left Hogwarts, do you think I was disappointed? When you made sure none of my owls could find you, do you think I was disappointed? When you tried to get me kicked out of the Order, do you think I was disappointed? When I had to hear about James, and Lily, and Peter, and Sirius second-hand, do you think I was disappointed? Do you? Because I wasn't disappointed! I was bloody heartbroken!"

Silence hangs in the air between you.

Then Remus looks up, and finally meets your eyes. "I am sorry," he says. He pauses for a moment, as if to let the words sink in, before continuing, "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was necessary to protect you. It was a foolish notion. I see that now- and I regret it.

"But at the time, I thought that it was right, and that that fact alone justified the pain I was causing you. It was selfish of me. I told myself I was sacrificing my happiness for your safety, when in reality, I was sacrificing your happiness for my peace of mind." He gently squeezes your shoulder, and tries to extract himself from your grip. "I have no intention of asking for your forgiveness. The fact that I tried to avoid this conversation proves that I am a coward. Once we've concluded our business here, I'll make sure you never have to hear from me ag--"

You push him back against the wall, cutting him off. His arms fall limply to his sides.

"I can't believe you. You're about to make the same mistake all over again!"

Still holding your gaze, Remus takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "This is diff--"

"No, it isn't! You're making it seem like you're doing this for me, but this isn't what I want! I've never..." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurs to you, and your fingers curl reflexively into the front of his robes. "Unless... it's what you want?"

He hesitates for only a fraction of a second before answering. "It is."

The words pierce your heart like shards of ice- but you have to be sure. Swallowing thickly, your eyes desperately searching his, you force your numb lips to form the question. "You... don't want to be with me... like we used to... anymore?"

Remus stiffens, and you could swear you feel his pulse skip under your fingers. But his reply is as cold as it is resolute. "No."

"I... I see."

Your heart drops like a stone in your chest. You're not sure if he's being honest with you, but you decide that it doesn't matter anymore. If this is how he wants it, then so be it. You've made up your mind, as well- on two counts.

The first, you retrieve from its clever hiding place in your kitchen. It's a delicate charm bracelet, from which dangle three tiny phials, each brimming with a pearly substance that is neither gas nor liquid. You grab Remus's hand, still hanging limply by his side, and coil it into his palm.

"This is everything I can tell you about the Department of Mysteries. I hope it helps."

Now your Order business is concluded.

As for the second count...

You wait until Remus has tucked the phials safely into his briefcase. Then you splay a hand on his stomach, and spear him with a look so intense that you feel him freeze up under your fingertips.

"When was your last time?"

It takes Remus half a second to catch your meaning. When it dawns on him, his mouth forms a small 'o', and at length he replies, so quietly that you have to read the words off of his lips to make them out, "Seventh year. Right before the end-of-term feast."

Your answer exactly.

So, he hasn't had anyone since you, either. Which means- if your memory of his libido is anything to go by- Remus must be as touch-starved as you are.

"Spend the night."

To your surprise, he places a hand over the one splayed on his stomach. You lace your fingers with his, and he doesn't pull away.

"Please."

But then Remus laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "I cant. Tonight's the full moon." He cups your cheek with his free hand, and his thumb strokes the fullness of your lower lip. "I'll have to lock myself away."

You sigh and lean into his touch, wishing you could be there for him, that he didn't have to go through it alone. But you know he wouldn't want you to see him in that form. So instead of offering, you ask, "Do you have the potion with you?"

He answers with a curt nod. You can't help but notice that his hands still haven't left you.

He wants you.

No, scratch that- he needs you. You can see it in his eyes. Try as he might to hide it, you know that look all too well.

But you also know that he doesn't trust himself enough to be close to anyone right before the full moon. You never did make love during the week leading up to the transformation; he was always careful to put some distance between the two of you, and you respected that distance, knowing that he would close the gap the moment the lunar cycle began anew.

The question is, what will Remus say now? He's already denied himself the chance to be with you. Will he really deny himself this, as well?

You lick your lips, deciding to make this your final push. You've made up your mind- it's time for him to make up his.

"It's still early. You could stay until you need to take it, then disapparate. Or... we could make it quick."

He hesitates. The fingers laced with yours spasm, as if he's on the verge of pulling them away- but his other hand betrays him, thumb gently tugging on your lower lip.

"Do you still remember our first time?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

"Of course," Remus says, a little too quickly. A flush creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat before continuing. "We were... rather irresponsible." He swallows, and his eyes briefly dart down to your mouth, before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "I suppose nothing's changed."

And, without giving you a chance to process this, he crashes his lips to yours.

There's no preamble, no more hesitation. Your tongues dance, and your fingers waste no time in getting reacquainted with every inch of skin they can reach; seeking out the similarities, and revelling in the changes.

This Remus isn't all that different from the one in your memory, except for his features,(he's aged quite a bit), and the fact that he's a little underweight for his stature. He also has more scars than you remember, more lean muscle, too; and he's bigger, in more ways than one.

You've probably changed more than he has, and you feel his calloused palms and fingers appreciate every last detail, everything that you are- everything that you've become in his absence.

Remus is the first to strip, kicking off his shoes and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear off his robes. Yours come off next, and any remaining scraps of fabric are left in place, to be pulled roughly aside whenever they get in the way.

You throw your arms around his neck, and he picks you up at the waist, spinning you around to press your back against the wall. Squeezing his hips with your thighs, you reach in between your bodies to grip his cock, pulling back just enough to be able to watch his expression as you touch him. Remus's eyes are dark with lust, his breathing ragged- you've never seen such a look of intense desire.

And it's all for you.

Biting your lip, you rub the head of his cock around your slit. He's painfully hard, leaking precum onto your palm. It feels so good- even better than you remember. You could come for him, just like this.

But Remus groans and clutches your wrist. "Mmph. Best stop that- if you want me to last."

So you lean up and brush your nose against his, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing his tongue with yours as you slowly fill yourself up with his cock. You're dripping wet for him, so it doesn't hurt, and any twinge of discomfort is quickly drowned out by the pleasure of being stretched.

It starts off slow, as Remus matches every thrust with a sweet kiss, a sweet caress- but it's not long before you find yourself bouncing up and down on his cock.

He fucks you senseless, and you ride him for all you're worth. It's like you're venting your frustrations together- or maybe on each other. But there's no anger or hatred between the two of you; just understanding. Longing. Need. Years and years of it, pent-up and begging for release.

It's delicious. Intoxicating. He fills you to the brim, rubbing places your fingers could never reach. You come quickly- too quickly- but Remus holds himself back, gently rocking his hips as he kisses you down from your high.

Then he carries you into your bedroom, (the door standing open on your right), and lays you down on the bed. For a heartbeat, you think it's over- that he's just going to leave you there. But then he settles himself on the floor between your legs, tugs your ankles over his shoulders, and buries his face between your thighs.

"Remus- fuck-"

Remus has always been good with his mouth. He's so eager to taste you- so eager to devour you. He kisses your slit, open-mouthed, no differently to how he claimed your lips; spreading your folds with his tongue and swirling it inside you, sucking on your clit...You run your fingers through his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, torn between holding his head in place and pulling it away. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your thighs are shuddering uncontrollably.

Then, just when you think you can't handle it anymore, Remus stands up, rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and slides his cock back inside you.

Your breath hisses through your teeth, but the pain soon fades as he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit and rolling his hips with every thrust.

Finally, you feel a gush of warmth, and Remus judders to a stop, his eyes boring into yours as he groans your name. That's all it takes for you to come undone a second time, and you're still twitching in pleasure as he slumps forward onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him, eyes fluttering closed. It almost feels like you could be back in the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor tower, taking advantage of your alone time in his four-poster.

"I've missed you." The words spill from your lips before you can hold them back, but you instantly regret them as Remus freezes up again.

"I..." There's so much he wishes he could say, but to do so would mean going back on everything he's said, and undoing the choice he made all those years ago. The choice he reaffirmed the instant you answered the door.

So Remus swallows the words he was going to say, and replaces them with, "I have to go."

Even though you knew this was coming, it still hurts. You pull your arms away from him and roll onto your side, hugging yourself instead. Then, without looking at him, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door. "Lock it behind you for me, will you?"

Remus nods and pulls himself to his feet. He ducks out of the room, dresses quickly and cleans himself up with a wave of his wand. Then he comes back in and gently covers you with your duvet.

"Take care," he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You, too."

You hear the front door close, and a faint rap on the wood as Remus taps it with his wand, followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place of its own accord.

Then there's a loud crack, and just like that, he's gone.

#reader x Remus Lupin #reader insert #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin smut #remus x reader

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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PARTY FAVOURS | A MYSTERIOUS INTERLUDE

first time reader click here

This is a scrapped chapter. Originally, I was planning to 1) give Reader a longer, more intense destructive streak before her ending up with Tony. I planned three or so chapters that involved an abusive Quentin Beck, but, ultimately decided that to be too cliché. 2) I had planned to write at least 30% of the fanfic in Tony's/third person POV. This chapter would have been number 11/12 - Tony would have rejected her advances in the lab & she would have got hooked on Beck's charming facade.

Why am I publishing this? It seems like a waste if effort to shelf it, plus, it's Tony's POV. You can skip it since it has no relation/bearing on the current story. Just a tiny "what might have been" tidbit.

It was a moment's notice. One second, they're standing in a group, laughing, soaking in the warmth from the fireplace, chattering amongst themselves, telling tall tales and sipping their liquor. It all goes black briefly, and then they are surrounded by darkness - it's nearly impenetrable, so thick that their voices echo in it.

Tony's body was encompassed by the nanotech suit immediately after his eyes and his brain adjusted to the rapid change of surroundings. His teammates, too, had their skills honed on an instinctive level - the faint thump of Mjölnir in Thor's hands, the golden-green glow of his brother's magic, whirring of Barnes' prosthetic arm. Steve's shield stayed tucked behind the living room couch but his enhanced physique and readiness to fight 24/7 has him covering the unenhanced Clint and Natasha in mere seconds.

Tony was mostly angry rather than afraid. The team was having a good time at his party and the chance encounters of weird shit like this had been reduced to nearly zero percent possibility thanks to Friday's screening process: supervillains, Hydra agents and the likes strictly prohibited on Stark-owned premises.

It was a strange coincidence Banner had to take a break to check up on one of his experiments not even five minutes before the rest of the team was experiencing the strange change in scenery. Speaking of Strange, the sorcerer also was nowhere to be seen - Tony distinctively remembered seeing Stephen ten feet away from the bar, engaged in a hearty debate with the lead of SI's Medical Engineering department.

"This is not magic," Wanda piped up from behind him, confused. "I don't feel anything on the usual frequency. It sounds more like Friday humming in the walls, like electricity."

Good to know, Tony thought. It was nice having someone who was familiar with the undiscovered side of science - after all, Tony had always considered anything 'magical' to be science he had not personally understood yet. Wanda's most redeeming quality in Tony's eyes was the fact that more often than not she seemed to be as clueless as everyone else when it came to her powers and didn't act so high and mighty as some other people. Cloaked people, and horned people, for example.

"The fuck, man? I was hoping, just one evening, one normal evening with my beer and wings," Clint whined. Tony could hear Natasha huffing in annoyed agreement.

"Mr. Stark, what are we going to do?" His very own spider-child, on the other hand, sounded distraught. Peter's voice has this funny thing it does when the boy is upset but tries to hide it: it quivers on the vowels, wobbles slightly.

Tony had to blindly grope the air for a moment before his arm found Peter's shoulder. The boy was shivering and took the offered comfort eagerly, folding into the older man.

"Okay, whoever is pulling this stunt, my advice is: don't," Tony sighed, 12 000% Done With This Shit™, exclaiming loudly. "If that's a prank, stop it or speak up. If you got beef, then you got some nerve doing this in my tower. Show yourself."

He could feel the fine hairs on his neck stand up as the team tensed next to him, readily gearing up to pounce. Peter was vibrating in Tony's arms and the billionaire suddenly remembered the curious side-effects of Peter's powers, the spidey-sense. It must have been going absolutely haywire - the kid nearly hyperventilated himself into a heart attack.

"Stark, I must apologise for the uncomfortable circumstances. Believe me, it was a necessity - you always demand attention, whereas I need people to pay attention to me for a moment. Don't worry, you'll get yours when the time is due."

The voice was vaguely familiar. Male, slightly nasal but quiet and creeping. Insinuating. It lacked the usual boisterous bravado of a mid-grade bad guy, Tony had to take an educated guess that the owner of the mysterious voice was well-off, white. Privileged. No hint of desperation in it, as if the man was pitying everybody.

"The fuck? Q, is that you?"

Oh shit, Tony realized in muted horror. She must've been hanging around somewhere in their vicinity - which wasn't unusual, the girl usually orbited around Barnes, Wanda, Peter or Bruce. All of whom were present at the party. Tony had forgotten about her, to his shame, somehow having had automatically assumed she trotted out of the room on Bruce's heels. His science bro and her acted like conjoined twins when it came to their scientific ventures.

"Stop talking," The man growled, the voice suddenly coming from a very different direction. Tony heard a distinctively feminine yelp, albeit muffled. Peter violently jerked in Tony's arms. The engineer put the superstrength of his suit to use, holding the teenager down.

"Aw, hell no!" She yelled, the indignant shrieking followed by the sound of a moist palm slapping something glass...y? "What the fuck? I am asking you again. Are you... Oh my God, are you wearing a fishbowl on your head? Ow, motherfu-" The rest of the sentence is muffled, garbled. Whoever this "Q" was, she obviously knew him and he had silenced her. And, apparently, Q had an uncanny choice of headwear.

Tony was sure the rest of the team had followed his lead on doing a spit-take. They've fought enough supervillains with more than questionable fashion sense but a fishbowl? That was new.

"Be quiet, baby. It's for your own good. I don't want to hurt you if I can help it," The Fishbowl chastised her.

Tony's confusion once again returned to irritation at the frivolous way the villain addressed his science buddy. Peter's friend would have been more accurate but Tony had put her into the 'science bro' category not too long ago. They were close, as much as they could be, with the age gap and totally different interests and... The immense amount of guilt Tony felt for his attraction towards the girl. He was a dirty old man and she was barely an adult.

Every damn day Tony did his best to avoid making a shiny, big, new problem. Yet her brains and her wit and the uncanny ability to pull anybody into a conversation had a firm hold on his attention.

"Leave her alone," Stark angrily declared, powering up a repulsor. "What do you want? Party crashing isn't allowed in my tower anymore."

"What I want, Stark, is for you to give credit where it's due," The man answered simply, giving Tony just enough time to shove Peter behind him towards Natasha and take a tentative step forward.

The soft glow emanating from the repulsor illuminated barely two inches around his hand. The darkness surrounding it seemed to swallow the light. Tony moved on quiet feet towards the voice, easily avoiding furniture. His memory was good and he knew his tower, his home, better than anyone else.

"Did I hear that correctly, you're accusing me of plagiarism?" Tony tried for indignant, hoping to provoke the man into an inevitable, drawn-out speech where he lists all the wrongs Tony ever did him, giving the team precious time to regroup and form some semblance of a plan.

"Yes," Q simply answered, pausing for a second. "I hope you enjoy your next adventure. It certainly will show you the potential of my creation."

Tony shared a muted sound of confusion with the rest of the team.

"Q, I am very disappointed," To Tony's horror, th girl stared talking again. She sounded somewhat breathless, and closer to him than before. "Stop it with the dick measuring contest, you're a grown ass man. Go work for OsCorp, or Hammer, drink your sorrows away." She sounded so tired. And even closer to him.

"This is not a dick measuring contest!" Q roared suddenly and wow, that man was unstable. "This was my life's work, my creation, he insulted, berated and threw away!"

"I get it, I really get the whole 'being discarded and thrown away' thing," She replied, somewhat sarcastically. "But you know what? I'll be damned and I'll be fucked if I give some piece of shit any more of my undivided attention. They don't want me? Fine, they can fuck off and take their complaints with them." Her speech was periodically interrupted by shuffling noises.

Tony didn't dare to interrupt, seeing now the possibility of Q being actually calmed down by a teenager (probably) quoting some teen drama TV show.

"But going full Joker? You're a brilliant man, Quen, I wouldn't even look at you twice if not for your brains and your baby blues, however I don't fuck with the bad guys. That shit kills," The hand that rested on the wrist cuff of Tony's suit unmistakably belonged to her. She had the remnants of some sort of wire around it, sleek and quicksilver-shiny, irritating the tender skin under it. "And I want to live. You've gone and pissed off an entire crew of supers and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think, Quen," There was genuine sadness in her voice.

Tony stood silent in confusion.

Whoever this Quen was, they obviously shared a close relationship. Tony's brain ran through the list of her friends, her relatives - there was nobody named Q, Quen or even remotely similar. Natasha had mentioned a possible boyfriend at some point but the man sounded too old for that, he was at least thirty. Or maybe? Tony wouldn't put it completely past the girl, if judging by the blatant way she flirted with Bruce. With himself.

"Baby, this is not about you. I don't want to hurt you," Quen replied, a hysterical edge to his voice. Something began flickering in the distance, attracting Tony's attention to the shape of a man with a round sort of helmet and a red, billowing cape (hello, 2012-Thor!).

"Too late, Quen. You've tied me up and you went on to attack my friends. I've already told you that if you yell at me one more time, I will leave you. So I guess this is it," Her voice broke at the end, pitiful sniffles following the statement.

Tony watched the exchange, mildly uncomfortable and very concerned. The man yelled at her? That was absolutely unacceptable, however, what else could one expect from a maniac with a flair for the dramatic?

The girl bodily placed herself in front of Tony, standing, doing nothing but rubbing her wrists. It was then that the engineer noticed Q nearing them, the shape becoming distinctively closer. And - yep, there it was - the fishbowl on his head. It completely obscured him, making his face invisible, unrecognisable.

The man seemed rather fixated on the girl standing in front of Tony. He floated in front of her, ignoring Tony, taking her bound hands in his own. A brief click and a hiss later, her wrists were released and the contraption fell freely to the floor where it landed with an oddly heavy thud. Tony hoped there was no lead in that thing - supervillains were dangerous but lead poisoning was cancerous and fatal.

"Baby..." Quen timidly touched her face with a leather-bound glove. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry." Tony took the chance to examine the man's costume. If anything, it looked somewhat steampunk-y? There was a lot of bronze, and the chest brace had some sort of glowing lines on it. Power storage units?

She stared up, towards the man's hidden face. "M'sorry, Quen," She mumbled, going in for a hug. Or that's what Tony thought. The majestic cape that billowed behind Quen was unceremoniously yanked from his body as the girl ducked, covering herself with it, yelling: "TONY, NOW, SHOOT, SHOOT!"

Tony did just that, shot Quen flat in the chest and the man stumbled backwards, tripping on the cape - such a stupid, unexpected thing. But Tony knew, his girl was clever and resourceful. Pride swelled in his chest as he shot the man again, Rogers running out from behind him blindly, body-slamming Quen into the ground for good measure. Two hundred pounds of supersoldier later, the battle was over before it even started.

"No!" The villain shouted as Steve pressed and popped the hilarious glass contraption on his head. The accessory was no match for the Captain's super strength. Tony immediately recognised the man as his former employee, Quentin Beck, and it clicked for him. It was totally a personal vendetta.

"This stuff is tough, plexiglass, maybe," The Captain remarked, pointing at the scattered shards around Beck's head. "It appears to be augmented too, some kind of tech, I don't know. You're good at this, Tony," Steve chuckled humorlessly, roughly turning Beck around and securing his hands with a pair of vibranium-reinforced handcuffs. God only knew where he'd gotten those from.

"Good at what? Making enemies?" Stark couldn't resist the self-depricating joke.

"Stop it, Tony," Natasha's gently admonishing voice interrupted Steve's incoming lecture. Tony, for once, was thankful that the Widow interrupted. He was in no mood to listen to another one of Steve's speeches.

"Who do you work for?" That deadly gleam in Natasha's eyes was terrifying and Beck was only a man.

"I don't work for anyone but myself, thanks to Stark," He spat venomously.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow in Tony's direction.

"Fired him years ago, this guy was going nuts. Brilliant but crazier than a bag of cats," Tony replied, feigning nonchalance. He could feel a mild headache begin to gnaw at his skull. "We worked on a project together, he got upset that I refused to weaponize it. We had a falling out. End of story." With that, Tony stood up, retracing his suit to only leave the gauntlets on his hands, gathered the various pieces of tech the good captain had removed from Beck's persona and made way towards the nearest table.

Or where he thought it was. All of them were still surrounded by the uncanny darkness. The anxiety that Tony forcefully shut down reared it's ugly head as soon as he lost physical touch with his teammates. He stumbled, his foot catching onto something on the ground.

"Ow, motherfucker!"

"Buttercup, I haven't fucked your mother nor I plan to," He snarked back automatically, flooded with relief at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Hope so. She'd probably bite your dick off if you try," A hand was groping his calf and then she stood up in front of him, still clutching the ridiculous cape. It appeared to be a source of light, which was very strange. The girl looked positively demonic, illuminated by red light, face scrunched up, eyes puffy, and clothing in disarray.

"You good?" Tony managed to choke out, confusion and worry and anxiety making his chest tight.

"Balmy. My boyfriend is a homicidal maniac with an inferiority complex," She sassed, an edge of panic to her voice. "Oh, and he tried to kill one of my best friends. I am fine and dandy."

"Your boyfriend?" That was the only thing Tony heard. Bat-shit crazy Beck, his babygirl's boyfriend? There was no way in Hell he'd allow such a thing...

"My ex-boyfriend, I guess," She sighed, removing the cape from her persona. Refusing to meet his eyes, fiddling with the hem of her top. "Here," The girl abruptly thrust the cape at him. "This is a funny thing, it's like a hologram but you can actually touch it. You should, uh, probably disinfect it, or something. I've been on-uh, around it many times," It was so unlike her, the fumbling, the embarrassment, Tony wanted to wheel her straight to medical to check if she's gotten concussed again.

Then his brain caught up and all he saw was red. Figuratively and literally - the cape was still in his face, loosely hanging from her outstretched hand. She must've seen the look on his face.

The step she took back was quick and worrying. "Forget I said that, I don't know why I said that. Oh, god."

"What were you thinking?" Tony inhaled a solid lungful, prepared to make his opinion very clear. "Getting involved with a lunatic! For a second I actually thought you were smart, there isn't a chance you missed that the guy is short of a few marbles," His voice was quiet, the one of a calm fury. His words cut deeply and he could see the hurt, the shame in her eyes, on her face. Tony knew he'd regret it later however his brain insisted it was a necessary evil. He continued ranting until he ran out of breath. "Not to mention he's, what, twice your age? And he yells at you and tells you to shut up? It didn't ring any alarm bells in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Tony, stop," Steve's hand landed on the engineer's shoulder and he simply shrugged it off, staring at the quivering girl in front of him.

She was crying, silently, few tears pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, leaving ugly streaks in her make-up. Tony expected her to sass him, to argue back, to yell obscenities like she usually did when something or someone upset her but he was met with hurt, stunned silence. His worst fear came true when she looked away, shrugging.

He'd seen this sort of dejected shrug the time her father drugged her and... She just took it. She expected it, even, his outrage, his disappointment. Being hurt and mistreated was the norm for her, Tony realized belatedly. There were too many parallels between them both that made him uncomfortable deep inside. His chest felt tight, regret washing over him like a tsunami wave.

"I'm turning on the lights, close your eyes for maximum comfort," Strange's voice announced suddenly, causing everybody to jump and shudder. Tony complied begrudgingly. The sudden influx of light was painful even from behind closed eyelids. His headache became a full-on dull throb.

"What happened?" "Are you okay?" "Is everybody alive?" Resonated across the room. Tony spied several small drones smoking and crackling next to the exit door, Stephen Strange closing a portal he must've used to evacuate the civilians.

The puddle of red holographic cape on the floor. And her hastily retreating back. Damn.

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#party favours #bun writes #Quentin Beck #tony stark fanfiction

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