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spoodrm4n · 1 year

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This is Me Trying

Chapter One: ‘Cause I Haven’t Moved in Years

Pairings: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter is struggling after losing everyone closest to him-- May, Tony, Ned, and MJ. Harley is struggling with where he came from and the parts of his past he never healed from. Harley needs a roommate and Peter is getting evicted.

Read Ch. 2 here

…

Peter Parker isn’t a bitter person– or at least he doesn’t think so. After all of the detrimental events that have taken place in his life, he’s not bitter. He refuses to believe he’s bitter.

Sure, he’s living alone in one of the worst apartment complexes in Queens, works two jobs just to afford rent and the bare essentials of life all whilst attending Queensborough community college. In the midst of all of this, he patrols every night, only getting a couple hours of sleep a night. And it’s only been a month since he watched his aunt die and the whole world forget him— including the people he loved most.

He misses May with everything in him. The grief bubbles up his throat more often than not and sometimes it’s all encompassing and doesn’t let him breathe. He could’ve done more– done better and saved her. Sometimes when he washes his hands he can still see her blood on them. He barely sleeps because he’s plagued by the memories of her death replaying over and over and over and over…

MJ and Ned live on without him and he’s unbelievably happy for them. Sometimes he’ll spot them walking the streets near the coffee shop MJ works at. Sometimes Peter is selfish and even though rent is late and the coffee shop is twenty minutes away, he goes there anyway, just to make sure she’s still okay. Of course she is; he’s not there to screw up her life.

Ned is the same. He’s still Ned, but not his best friend Ned. It’s odd to think of how people change whenever you’re no longer a lasting impact on them or a constant in their life. Peter misses the sleepovers, building legos, the lab experiments, and the patrolling with Ned as his guy in the chair and it makes his heart ache.

Another wound that Peter harbors is the death of Tony. When Peter had come back to life from the snap the first thing he had thought to do was find Tony. Nothing else had mattered in that moment. He had found him amidst the chaos of the battlefield and they had hugged and Peter was whole. Not even five minutes later he would be the shell of the person he was. The tears had dried out and nothing was left but numbness. He remembers Mr. Stark’s half-alive eyes and the way his charred skin burned his nostrils. It had been too much. He still has yet to get over that first loss and he hasn’t. He doesn’t know where to start.

He patrols more– all that he can. He saves everyone he can and stays up at night due to the ones he can’t. He gets a bit more reckless, having to stitch himself up more often that he would be willing to admit. Peter is hurting and all he knows is to push it down. Push it down as far as he can and swallow the bitterness because that’s what he isn’t.

Life could certainly be better, but Peter believes he isn’t bitter.

Harley Keener is a bitter person. He’s grown up bitter and angry and spiteful and he’s well aware. He doesn’t hide it, either– refuses to. If there’s two things Harley is it’s most certainly bitter and honest.

He’s bitter at the fact that he remembers the sounds of his dad beating his ma. He’s bitter that sometimes he would be the one getting beaten instead. He’s bitter at the fact that his dad left when he and Abbie were just kids. He’s bitter that his ma had to pick up two jobs just to support the three of them and that he couldn’t do anything but watch for so long. He’s bitter that he was forced to grow up entirely way too soon. He’s bitter because Tony was one of the only good things in his life and just like everything else it got ripped from him.

He had moved to New York not too long after Tony’s death. Pepper had reached out to him the weekend of Tony’s funeral and had disclosed that there was a large sum stashed away for Harley. Included in that was a suit made specially for Harley as well as a lab that was to be shared with someone named Peter Parker.

Pepper had tried to remember any mention of the boy, but she would always end up drawing a blank. It also didn’t help that the kid was practically untraceable.

Harley had bought a nice apartment just outside of Queens in Manhattan and spent his time working through his classes at ESU, doing some contracting work for neighbors or others around the area, and helping save the citizens of New York as his secret identity of Iron Lad.

He’s bitter and angry and resentful at the world he’s grown accustomed to and he’s well aware of it.

…

“Harley, honey, how are classes going?” Harley rushed to press the phone against his ear, almost missing what Pepper says as he walks into his apartment, kicks off his shoes, and locks the door.

“They’re going fine, ma’am. Midterms are keeping me on my toes, though.” Harley walks further into the apartment, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter and bending down to lean his elbows against the marble.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Pepper?” He hears her sigh from across the phone line.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me plenty more.” Harley feels the ghost of a smile pull at his lips.

“How’s the search for a roommate going? I’m sure there’s plenty of applicants.” Pepper changes the subject and Harley stands up straight now, moving to the living room and eyeing the stack of applications on the coffee table.

“Sure are. All seem like a bunch of stuck ups, though. No one’s caught my eye.” Harley’s honest with her, picking up a few papers and tossing them back down half haphazardly.

“That’s a shame. I know how lonely it can be living by yourself. Another person would do you good, Harley.” Pepper knows Harley is struggling, no matter how much he covers it up with jokes, hard work, or just being plain mean. Harley knows she sees right through him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it, Pepper.” He sighs, sitting down on the couch and switching the phone from his right ear to his left. The thing is though, Harley doesn’t necessarily want a roommate, but Pepper’s been on his ass for the last couple months. He knows she’s only worried about him, but Harley’s doing fine. He’s fine.

“I know you are. I have to get going, Morgan has gymnastics and she’s been reminding me about it all day,” she laughs and Harley musters a smile. He can imagine Morgan’s pouty face and her puppy dog eyes.

“Yes ma’am. Can’t keep Mo waiting,” Harley’s smile turns sad as he remembers how long it’s been since he’s seen the two.

“Bye, Harley. Don’t be afraid to call.” Pepper and Harley don’t say ‘I love you’ well, they say it in different ways. They both understand, though.

Before Harley gets a chance to respond she’s hung up and he’s left in his own silence. His shoulders slump and tilts his head back, closing his eyes and thinking about what he has to do tonight.

He decides to go through new applications first, hoping to ease Pepper’s worry. He stands and heads for the front door, quickly finding the mailbox attached to his door. He opens it and a hefty stack of papers await him. He groans, dreading going through all of these applications. He makes his way to the dining table and stacks them neatly in front of him as he sits down.

He’s about a third of the way through the stack when a familiar name catches his eye. “Peter Parker…” He says aloud, grabbing the paper from out of the stack and examining it carefully.

“Nineteen years old, goes to Queensburough, works two jobs, lives alone…” Harley rattles off, eyebrows furrowing the more he reads. “Fallen on hard times and it’s become hard to afford an apartment alone.” He finishes. He re-reads the application more, observing the way that Peter had described himself and how he is studying in engineering. “Peter Parker…” Harley mumbles again. He knows that name. He makes a mental note to text Pepper about the name and ask her if that name is familiar. He’s almost certain he had heard Pepper say his name before.

His eyes find the phone number on the top of the page and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing in the number. It rings once, twice, three times, then goes to voicemail.

“This is Peter! I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your call, I’ll get back with you as soon as I can, thank you!” Harley is slightly annoyed and surprised by the cheery voice that filters through the speaker. The dial tone beeps and Harley blinks, kind of caught off guard.

“Hi Peter, I got your application for sharing the apartment and I’d like to meet with you to discuss further options. Thank ya much, Harley Keener.” He hits the end call button and sets his phone down on the table, continuing to go through the applications.

…

Peter stops in front of the door of his apartment, getting slapped in the face with the bright yellow paper stuck to his door that reads, ‘60 day eviction notice’. He swallows down the lump in his throat as someone clears their throat from behind him.

“Rent has been late the last four months, Mr. Parker. I’ve given you multiple chances and it just isn’t working out.” Peter turns on his heel and is met with Mr. Hall. He wears a deep frown, almost like he doesn’t want to kick Peter out, but has no choice. The guy clearly has a choice, though; he’s been doing just fine with Peter’s late rent. Someone’s probably offered the guy more money for the place that Peter doesn’t have.

“I know and I’m so sorry Mr. Hall, I’ve been trying really hard. It’s just–” Peter’s cut off by Mr. Hall finishing his sentence.

“You work two jobs and you’re going to college? I know Mr. Parker and I’m very sorry, but I can no longer tolerate this. I’ve been patient these last few months but I have a family to feed.” Peter knows it’s bullshit, but forces a smile for him instead.

“Okay, I understand.” Peter is short and he quickly turns around, ripping the note off his door and swallowing down the lump in his throat. He shuts the door behind him and grits his teeth, setting his backpack on the floor so he can run his hands through his hair.

He had filled out multiple applications for people looking for roommates in the area and only one had gotten back with him so far, but the rules were entirely too strict for Peter. There was no way he was going to be able to be SpiderMan and live under the same roof as the guy.

He threw the eviction notice onto the counter and picked his backpack up, carrying it to the small desk in the corner to finish his homework. By the time he was done, the sky had gone dark and the city streets became just a bit quieter.

Peter breathes out, placing all of his finished work back into its assigned folder and stood, stretching out the stiffness that came with sitting in a poorly made, wooden chair. He chances a glance out of the one window in his one room apartment and decides to turn the police scanner on, getting ready for patrol and putting on his SpiderMan suit. He was itching to get out of the cramped space he called ‘home’.

…

Harley fiddled with the hot sleeve on his coffee cup as he waited for Peter to arrive. The guy was already ten minutes late and Harley was about to finally get up and leave, accepting he’d been blown off, but the dinging of the front door bell stopped him.

He looked up and his eyes met with a boys' brown ones. Harley immediately recognized the boy across the coffee shop as Peter, recalling the photo from his application. Peter looked impossibly better in person. His brown hair curled at the ends, but it wasn’t necessarily messy, his eyes were a deep brown, but shone in the sunlight that streamed through the many windows in the shop. He was dressed in a baggy sweater that looked like a lucky, vintage find in a thrift store and some dark-washed jeans. His tennis shoes were teetering on the edge of falling apart and he had a navy blue backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Are you Harley?” Harley blinked and found that Peter was standing right in front of him now, eyebrows pulled together and hands nervously gripping the straps of his backpack.

“Y-yeah, go ahead and sit down. Ya know you’re late?” Harley gestured towards the chair across from him, motioning for Peter to sit down.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. You know how awful it can be to get around in the city sometimes.” Peter flashed Harley an apologetic smile, sitting down in the chair and setting his bag on the floor next to him.

“I understand. So, Peter, tell me about yourself.” Harley was intrigued by Peter. The moment he watched him walk through the door he had wanted to know more about him.

“There’s not much to say other than what was already on my application,” Peter shrugged, fingers picking at the skin around his nails.

“Well there wasn’t a lot about you on the application. I know you attend Queenburough and have two jobs, but that’s about it.” Harley quirks an eyebrow, elbows leaning on the table in front of him.

“I’m majoring in engineering and minoring in psychology. I live in a one room apartment that smells like a dumpster because it’s all I can afford– or was. I like photography, but I haven't had much time to get into it again, though.” Peter shrugged, eyes meeting Harley’s every now and again.

“Got any family that lives ‘round here?” Harley leans forward as he studies Peter. The hurt that flashes across Peter’s face is only there for a split second, then it’s gone again.

“No.” He answers simply and Harley furrows his eyebrows. It’s obvious his question had been a surprise and touchy subject for Peter.

“They live out of state?” Harley assumed Peter’s situation could be similar to his. He misses his ma and Abbie and makes a mental note to call them at some point this week.

“Uh, no. I don’t really have any family left.” Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes avoiding Harley’s. The pieces fell into place and Harley lets out a small ‘oh’ at Peter’s words.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Harley’s mouth is dry– he doesn’t know what else to say, really.

“It’s alright. I think I’m slowly coming to terms with it.” Peter dares to meet Harley’s gaze. His stomach turns at the look of pity on Harley’s face.

“Ya shouldn’t have to. Look, I’m gonna be honest– I could really use a roommate. The woman that’s practically my second mother has been on my ass about not living alone. And it seems like you could use some company yourself, so, when can you move in?” There’s a few steps Harley skips in the interviewing process, throwing caution to the wind. He’s drawn to Peter and he doesn’t particularly know why, but he wants to.

“That’s it?” Peter’s jaw is dropped, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah.” Harley shrugs. He figured Peter would be eager at his offer.

“How much is rent?” Peter asks before he dives head first into what the blonde is offering him.

“$150 a month. I’m pretty well off, honestly, and I would really just need you to pay for utilities and groceries.” Peter has to stop his jaw from hitting the table.

“Any rules I should know about up front?” Peter believes this is too good to be true.

“I would prefer if you kept your dirty shoes off the rug, don’t forget to clean up after yourself, and shower everyday. Don’t need ya stinkin up the place.” Harley rattles off. “If you let me do me, I’ll let ya do you. Simple as that.”

“Well of course I’m gonna shower everyday who do you think I am?” Peter rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest.

“I don’t know your life, Parker.” Harley pops the ‘p’ if Peters last name in a satisfying and annoying way.

“Well, what if I was a murderer? And-and you just let me move in with you on a whim?” Peter gaped, hands motioning wildly. Harley blinked at the boy.

“Well are you?” Peter paused, staring back at the blonde.

“Am I a murderer?” Peter re-affirmed, voice hushed as to not alarm the other patrons enjoying their coffee.

“Yeah, are you?” Harley challenged, arms crossed against his chest. He already knew the answer.

“No! Of course not–” Harley cuts Peter off by standing, the legs of his chair scraping against the tile floor.

“Then it’s settled. You’re moving in with me.” Harley won’t take no for an answer.

…

It’s a week later and Peter has packed all of his life into a total of four boxes. Harley is supposed to pick him up and help him move, but now that Peter is all packed, he realizes there’s not much help to be had.

A knock at his door snaps him out of his trance and he moves to open it. On the other side, there’s Harley who looks like he’s just seen a homeless man piss into a bottle at Central Park and throw it in the kids playground. “You weren’t joking about the dumpster smell, Pete.” Harley pushed past Peter and into the small, empty apartment.

“I’m all packed up.” Peter says, choosing to ignore Harley’s comment. Harley places his hands on his hips and surveys the room, his eyes landing on the four boxes stacked neatly across the room.

“Only four boxes?” Harley turns around, head tilted like a confused puppy.

Peter nods back at him, “to be fair, when I first moved here there was only one.”

Harley can’t decide whether to laugh or frown, so he settles on pulling his lips into a thin line. “Well let’s get a move on, Parker.”

It takes them one whole trip for the both of them to take the four boxes downstairs to Harley’s car. Peter knows he should be at least a bit embarrassed, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He doesn’t think Harley cares that much either; it just makes the process a whole lot easier anyhow.

Peter’s honestly impressed that Harley even has a car. New Yorkers don’t really own cars and when they do they have money.

“You drive?” Peter breaks the silence that has fallen over the two on the drive to Harley’s apartment.

“Good observation, sweetheart.” Harley smirks and Peter fumbles on his next words.

“No-no like— I know of maybe two people that own cars and live in the thick of New York,” Peter clarifies and Harley hums.

“Well I’m not from around here. I moved up from Tennessee for college and in Tennessee you can’t really walk anywhere too quickly. Had to learn how to drive to get around and get a half decent job– although that’s a joke when it comes to Rose Hill.” Harley explains. Peter mentally notes Harley’s accent. Makes sense.

“Do you like it here?” Peter keeps the topic focused on Harley. Harley doesn’t need to know about Peter. Peter is solely moving in with Harley because he can no longer afford to live on his own and there was no way that he could’ve passed up the deal he was offered. After losing May, MJ, and Ned he’s decided and determined to keep everyone at arms length.

“Not really, no. The city stinks all the time, people are downright rude, and traffic constantly bites you in the ass.” Harley complains, fingers drumming impatiently along the steering wheel as they sit in traffic. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”

“Yeah. Born and raised in Queens.” Peter’s reply is short and strained, making it obvious he doesn’t want to talk about himself any further. Harley doesn’t get the memo and continues with his questions.

“Ah, so you’re a true New Yorkian.” Harley’s fingers now drum along the wheel to the faint beat of the song that’s playing through the speakers instead of impatiently.

“That is not a real term.” Peter points out and Harley rolls his eyes, turning for just a moment to face Peter.

“It is now. I’ve just decided.” And Peter groans, elbow leaning on the console between them and hiding his face in his palm.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions like that. They don’t seem like they’re good ones,” Peter looks up and is met with Harley’s right profile. He’s staring at the car ahead, just now moving forward.

“How would you know? You’ve only known me for a week.” Harley shoots back and Peter snorts.

“Exactly. And now I’m moving in with you.” Harley is silent and Peter thinks he’s finally won the argument, but then–

“You agreed. I didn’t kidnap you; you came willingly.” Peter can’t really argue with that one.

Harley: 1, Peter: 0.

#parkner #harley keener x peter parker #harley keener/peter parker #parley #parkner fic #parkner angst #harley keener #peter parker #harley keener fic #peter parker fic #yes im back in my parkner era and im listening to folklore 24/7 #parkner roommate au

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sunnyie-eve · 3 months

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GOT Masterlist

❃ Back To You

Paring: (Robb Stark x OFC Tyrell!) (Jon Snow x OFC Tyrell!)

Summary: When Adeline Tyrell was just the age of ten a criminal stole her from her family. She never knew his true intentions because Ned Stark saved her. When finding out she was a Tyrell, he sent a letter to her family only for them to thank him and say keep her. She was the same age as his first son and her family hoped in the future they could possibly married if they ever discussed about it. Only if they all knew what the future had instore for them.

{ Ch.1| Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch.10 | Ch.11 | Ch.12 | Ch.13 | Ch.14

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starker1975 · 7 months

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@thecitrusscale there's only two and they're nothing crazy lmao, but here you go!!

Deleted scenes from A Familiar Stranger.

From Ch. 4 - Peter picks a fight with Tony at the mall, pressing him about his theoretical attraction to Betty:

“What?” Tony inclined his head.

“Betty at school,” Peter explained. “Actually, MJ and Ned, too. They all think you’re handsome. That’s probably why they’re coming over in the first place.”

“Not Miles?” Tony said. “I wonder why I haven’t awed him yet. Probably ‘cause he’s new to the bunch. I just need time to make an impression.”

“That’s not creepy at all…”

“Oh, I was just kidding.” Tony rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about your little high school buddies. Girls or boys.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” Tony said a little more firmly. “I don’t.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, whatever. Just warning you. If you hang out with us, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be stared at.”

Tony sighed. “I think I might stay inside then. Don’t want to lead anybody on.”

“Definitely not,” Peter agreed.

“I’m no tease,” Tony said seriously, “but like I said. Not interested in them, so that’s that.”

“You wouldn’t, I don’t know, date one of them if they asked, or like hinted?” Peter asked.

Tony frowned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re all 18, I’m the last one who isn’t, so if you—”

“Pete, seriously?”

“What?” Peter asked in annoyance. “I’m just making conversation. I genuinely wanna know. If Betty came up to you right now and was like, ‘ohh Mr. Stark’ or whatever, you wouldn’t even think about it?”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t really get why you’re even asking me. Of course it’s a no, why would you think there’s even a one percent chance it would be a yes?”

“I don’t know. I was just asking. We’re joking around.”

“Doesn’t feel like a joke.”

“Right, well isn’t that what we were just fighting about? Supposed jokes?”

Tony didn’t say anything.

“I find it really hard to believe you wouldn’t go for her. She’s pretty, smart, sort of nice, I guess. Just admit it. I don’t care.”

“Isn’t she dating your best friend?”

“Yeah, but you can admit you like her. Ned’s not here.”

“I’d admit it if I did, and I don’t.”

“What about MJ?”

“Pete, you could give me your entire fucking yearbook, and it would be a no to everyone.”

“Everyone? Every single person? You can say that for a fact?”

Tony looked confused and pissed, and Peter recognized that he better stop. Just shut up before he went too far.

“Jesus. I don’t know. Fuck it, maybe one person. You’ll have to show me the yearbook. Can we drop this now?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Where the hell did that even come from?”

“I-I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I just…they were talking about you at lunch and it got me thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah, like, they’re all together, and it’s awkward because I’m the only one not dating anyone, and then they started talking about you, and it made me realize you’re single, or whatever. You know, so then I was thinking about why you don’t date and who you would if you did. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I don’t know.”

Tony sighed. “You didn’t piss me off because you were asking about dating. I don’t get how you could think I was perverted enough to want one of your friends, especially when they’re all young and taken. I’ve known them since they were kids.”

Peter’s lip started to quiver. So to his face, his dad was all, “I’m a good guy. I’m not perverted. I would never do that.” But online, he was calling Tom sweet and cute, wishing him good morning, and hoping he slept well. Tom wasn’t too fucking young for him. How was he supposed to trust that his dad wasn’t going to see the hearts in Betty’s eyes and pounce? He would either have to cancel all pool parties, or have them and keep a watchful eye.

From Ch. 13 - Another fight. Tom hasn't been answering Tony online and when Peter insists that he'll drive Tony to the restaurant for Father's Day, tensions rise:

“Because I like driving.”

“I know that,” Peter argued, “but you always drive. I want a turn now that I have my learner’s permit, and I can only do that if you’re in the car too.”

Tony frowned.

“You let Happy drive you. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You think I’m going to get us in an accident or something?” he added.

“I never said that,” Tony replied.

“Then what’s your problem? I just wanted to be the one to drive if I’m taking you out.”

“How about I drive us there, and you drive us back?” Tony offered.

“What? No.” Peter scrunched his face. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Pete. I always drive when we go somewhere. Why do we need to change that now?”

“Are you actually serious,” Peter demanded, rising from the couch. “You’re actually serious. You really don’t want me driving that bad. It’s that important to you.”

“Yeah, guess it is.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“What, that you didn’t get your own way?” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“No, this isn’t even about me getting my own way.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“You being a dick for no reason,” Peter challenged.

“What did you just say to me?”

“No,” Peter said. “You are being a dick, and I’ll say it again if it’s true. You’re the one who taught me to drive. You bought me a car when I got my permit, and now all of a sudden, I’m not good enough to drive? What’s wrong with you?”

“I—”

“You know what? Forget it.” Peter threw his hands up. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Come on, Pete. Wait.” Tony called while he went up the stairs.

Peter paused. “Now I know why I feel like I can’t do anything right. Because I can’t. You just proved it. I can’t even drive.”

His dad walked closer, as if he was about to follow him, so Peter picked up his pace. The crack already in his door jamb got a little bit worse after he slammed the door.

A few minutes later, he heard the front door slam. Apparently his dad was going back to work.

Peter felt like laughing for some fucked up reason. His dad hadn’t given him attitude like that in ages. It had been another stressful time for Stark Industries then too. When he added in the fact that Tom was giving Tony the cold shoulder, he had cooked up the perfect storm.

He’d felt like shit from arguments with his dad before, but nothing as bad as this. It hurt worse arguing with him now that he was in love with him.

Dad: I’m sorry.

Dad: You can drive if you want to.

Dick. You could have just said that from the beginning.

Dad: Come on.

Dad: I know you can drive just fine.

Dad: Peter. Please.

Dad: Can you at least text back to let me know you’re alive?

Peter considered not responding, but he took the bait.

Peter: No.

Dad: I’ll take it.

Peter: What was that even about?

Peter: If you’re that stressed from work maybe you should ask for help or take a vacation.

Dad: It’s not work.

I could’ve told you that. Was he really that pissed because Tom hadn’t responded? It was kind of funny, but not if it meant his dad’s frustrations were being taken out on him.

Peter: You can’t take things out on me like that.

Peter: I didn’t even do anything wrong.

Well, he had, but not the asking to drive part.

#a familiar stranger #afs #if there's one thing about peter and tony in this verse it's that they're going to be dramatic as absolute fuck #especially peter #like can he chill?

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stormborns · 9 months

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GAME OF THRONES 1.09, Baelor

#gameofthronesedit #gotedit #nedstarkedit #gotnedstark #game of thrones #ned stark #show: got #show: s1 #ch: ned stark #*mine

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levithestripper · 6 months

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I should be jailed for not having made any jory or ned gifsets yet wtf

#jack likes to talk #ch: ned stark #ch: jory cassel #game of thrones

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ass-deep-in-demons · 7 months

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✦ demons writes fanfiction ✦

Of Wandering Birds - LotR AU:

A series of works focusing on Boromir, and also on Joanna (modern girl in Middle Earth OC). Eventual romance. I will be adding bits and pieces to this AU as I write. More on AO3.

Speaking Tongues - Boromir x OC, smut, canon setting, rated E (minors DNI!), oneshot with a sequel in the making. Link to some bcg-info.

Under Our Darkening Skies - A peek into Boromir's life before the War of the Ring. Ch. 1 - Boromir's Day in Minas Tirith; Ch. 2 - Defense of Osgiliath. Here's some related Boromir headcanons.

Healing Touch - Boromir x OC, awkward bedsharing, canon setting, rated T+, oneshot (with a multichapter series in the making).

standalone works:

Seeing White - a slice of life comedy with Faramir, Boromir and Eomer, rated G, oneshot

filled prompts:

Sharpe/ASOIAF crossover

Boromir x Gandalf's Apprentice! OC - headcanons and two ficlets

Never the same river - Ned x Catelyn Stark, Nedcat Week 2024, prompt "I want you to feel at home"

requests: CLOSED

I accept prompts for drabbles/one-shots! (Although their fulfilling might be slow.)

Fandoms: Tolkien (all books 📚 + movies 🎬, no RoP sorry ❌), Dragon Age (all games 🎮) , Game of Thrones + House of the Dragon (TV series only 📺). I reserve the right to discard a prompt (you'll get a message). May cross-post it on AO3 and/or FF.net.

I'm DeepInDemons on AO3 and FF.net

[last update: 26 Jan 2024]

#ass deep in masterpost #ass deep in demons

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starkerscoop · 1 year

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Vacant Mind (Ch. 11)

Ch. 10

also on ao3

“...and then we kissed!” Peter gushed, nearly bouncing off his couch—the very same one he’d kissed Tony on the prior night. “It was the most perfect thing ever. I can die happy now.”

Ned shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got to kiss Tony Stark. What even is your life?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Ned.” MJ cut in. “He’s a regular person.”

At Peter and Ned’s disgruntled faces, she begrudgingly admitted, “I’m happy for you, Peter. I was starting to think you were going to go in circles for the rest of your life.”

“It would’ve happened eventually,” Peter protested.

Ned and MJ looked dubious. Peter rolled his eyes and tried to think of a way to redirect the conversation. He was beaten to the punch before he could come up with anything good.

“Was he a better kisser than Danny?” Ned asked curiously.

Peter’s mind screeched to a halt. “Danny?”

“You know,” Ned continued, confused. “The guy who kissed you a couple weeks ago? When Gwen was in town and got you to go clubbing.”

Peter shook his head. “I never went clubbing with Gwen. Isn’t she still in Germany?”

“Peter,” MJ said slowly. “You went clubbing with Gwen and almost went home with a guy. You told us about it in painful detail. How do you not remember?”

Fear gripped Peter’s heart. He’d only gone clubbing a couple of times and never of his own volition. If what MJ was saying was true, that wasn’t an occurrence he’d forget easily. Could his memory loss be impacting him deeper than he thought?

“I remember now.” Peter laughed faintly, concealing his distress to the best of his ability. “Tony’s the better kisser, duh.”

His friends didn’t seem convinced of the former statement, but they let his suspicious behavior slide.

“Of course he is.” Ned nodded, not seeming surprised. “He’s got loads of experience.”

Peter winced, caught between unwarranted jealousy and desire. “Trust me, I know.”

The trio only had time to chat for another ten minutes before they had to hang up and return to their respective lives. Once the call was over, Peter scrolled to another contact, his thumb hovering over it hesitantly.

He didn’t want to worry anyone, but he and Tony had promised to communicate better. Peter didn’t want to dishonor that one day into their relationship.

Peter bit at his lower lip anxiously and pressed the dial button. His phone call was answered on the third ring, despite the hustle and bustle Peter could hear from Tony’s end. He must be at the office.

“Hey, pudding cup,” Tony said cheerfully. “How’s your morning?”

Peter couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face. “It’s good. Are you at work? Isn’t it a Saturday?”

“It is.” Tony sighed. “I had to come in for a meeting. They said it was urgent, but from what I’ve seen this could’ve been an email instead. I’d rather be with you.”

A red tint spread across the expanse of Peter’s cheeks. “I could go to the tower? I’ll grab coffee and sandwiches along the way.”

Tony groaned in delight. “You’re the best, babycakes. This meeting should be over by the time you get here, and if not, I’ll end it myself. I should head back in before they complain. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you,” Peter promised.

He could hardly contain his excitement as he got ready and made his way to his favorite bodega in New York. His happiness was palpable and easily noticed by Delmar.

“Is something wrong with you?” Delmar eyed him in concern, taking note of Peter’s unnaturally wide smile. It almost looked deranged.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “No? I’m just happy.”

“So that’s what it is.” Delmar hummed. “I haven’t seen you like that in a while. It’s refreshing, but scary. Keep it that way.”

Peter wasn’t sure how to take that, so he thanked Delmar and made his way to Murph as he waited for his sandwiches. Cats were so much simpler to understand. He knelt down to where Murph was grooming himself.

“Hi, Murph,” he crooned. “You look so handsome today.”

Murph peered up at him. He stalked closer to Peter and rubbed himself along Peter’s side, purring. Peter laughed brightly and scratched behind the cat’s velvety ears. Murph indulged him for another minute before he returned to his perch and resumed grooming himself.

Peter stood up from his crouch and approached Delmar, who was waving a bag of sandwiches at him. Peter took the bag and thanked him profusely, leaving a tip in his jar and skipping out of the bodega.

He got coffee closer to the tower. There was a Starbucks a block away, and blessedly, there were only two people in front of him when he got in line. He ordered Tony an Americano and himself a caramel frappuccino, already knowing he’d get teased for it. His drinks were given to him with a charming “Peetr” scrawled across the cups.

He immediately snapped a picture and sent it to Tony. A response came before he could put his phone away.

Tony: You need to legally change your name to Peetr now.

Tony: Never mind, FRIDAY’s got it.

Peter: You’re joking right?

Peter: Tony?????

No response. Peter huffed and stowed his phone in his pocket. He placed the drinks in a carrier and left the Starbucks, coffee held firmly in one hand and sandwiches swinging from the other. The walk to the tower was quick, and soon he was waiting for Tony’s private elevator to take him to the penthouse.

“FRI, can we go just a teeny bit faster?” Peter pleaded, aiming his puppy eyes at one of her sensors.

FRIDAY cautioned, “It’s against safety guidelines.”

Nevertheless, Peter felt the elevator speed up and was brought to the penthouse level faster than he could finish thanking FRIDAY.

“Boss is waiting for you in the living room,” FRIDAY announced.

The notice wasn’t necessary, but Peter thanked her anyway. The elevator was stationed at the back of Tony’s rather spacious living room. Due to the nature of the design, Peter was able to spot Tony the moment the elevator doors opened.

They strode towards each other eagerly. Tony took the coffee and the bag of sandwiches, setting them down on a side table before pulling Peter into himself and greeting him with a kiss.

Peter pulled away after a moment with an inflamed face.

“Hi,” he said breathily.

“Hi,” Tony mimicked.

They grinned at each other and let go, although Tony didn’t let him stray too far. They settled on Tony’s plush couch, their weight pulling them deeper in. Tony took his first sip of coffee and the stress of his earlier meeting melted from his shoulders.

“It’s so good,” Tony praised. “I needed this. You’re an angel.”

Peter waved off the compliment. “I didn’t make it.”

“But you knew what to order.” Tony reminded him. “Though it seems your decision making skills took a hit when you ordered that cup of syrup.”

Peter clutched his frappuccino to his chest. “It tastes good! You need to at least try it before you hate on it.”

“No, all I need is common sense.”

Peter shoved his shoulder and took his own first sips from his drink. When he pulled away, his cheeks were smudged in whipped cream that must’ve gotten on the lid when the barista made his drink. Before he could wipe it away, Tony leaned towards him and pressed his lips to his skin, drawing the whipped cream into his mouth.

He moved back into his original position with dark eyes. “You were right.”

“That doesn’t count,” Peter argued weakly. “Um, we should eat our sandwiches now. Wouldn’t want them to get cold.”

Tony snickered and passed him his sandwich.

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#starker #starkerscoopwrites #didn't know they were dating #vacant mind #ironspider

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mysticnightmarewrites · 11 months

Text

the night we met - Ch. 3

When Gendry's world starts to break apart, shattering all the dreams he'd only recently dared to hope for, he turns to Sansa, who offers sisterly advice and her delicious grilled cheese sandwiches. It's been weeks since he last talked to Arya, and it's time to confront the truth.

Read Ch. 1-2 on Tumblr

SONG: "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron

PAIRING: Arya/Gendry

LENGTH: 1.5k words

WARNINGS: Fic is 18+ (minors DNI)

All that time I’d been saving up for a ring, planning our whole lives together, she had already been slipping away, and I’d never noticed a thing. Arya had always called me stupid. She’d meant it as an endearment, but gods, she was right. I was stupid.

“Please,” I whispered to any gods that may be listening. “Please take me back. Let me change this. I’ll do anything.”

They were the cries of a broken man who had nothing left to believe in. Because what was the point in loving something so much that losing it hurt this bad? It’s not like it would have ever worked out for us. I understood that now. Arya had needed something more, something that was just hers, not tainted by the flashing lights or a family name. She’d spent her whole life living up to how others saw her. To her dad, she’d been the favorite child, and when he died she became the rebellious daughter of the late Ned Stark. I had watched her get lost in it all, and I’d let her get lost in me, too. I was just a reminder of some of the worst moments in her life, but Braavos? Braavos was freedom.

The now-familiar pull tugged at me, sending me backward again. This time to Sansa's old apartment in the capitol. I'd driven for hours just to see her that day. The wound of my disinheritance had stung so deeply, I'd spent weeks hiding away, ignoring Arya's calls. Resigning myself once more to the bleak future I had seen for myself growing up, interrupted only by the daydream that was Arya Stark and Riverlands U.

One day, I woke up to a kitchen full of mostly empty pizza boxes, milk spoiled on the counter, and nothing but half eaten takeaway in the fridge. My overdue rent bill had glared at me from the spot where it fell through the mail slot. I couldn't go on like this anymore. But how could I face Arya after all the days I'd spent pushing her away? She deserved so much better than me. And so I had turned to the smartest person I knew – her sister.

"Who was that guy you were working for when we met?" She'd asked while flipping the grilled cheese sandwich on the stove. "Tommen? Toby?"

"Tobho," I said, leaning over the kitchen island.

"That's right. You should give him a call. See if he needs any workers. Arya said you were a really good mechanic."

She flipped her auburn hair behind her head as she turned to plate the sandwich, putting it in front of me.

"Go ahead, eat, and we'll work out the plan, OK?"

There was a reason I had turned to Sansa when my life turned to shit. She was the closest thing to a sister I'd ever had, and I loved her for it. We talked as I ate, with the occasional notification popping up on Sansa's phone. I hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now I knew just who Sansa had been talking to.

When the brunette ball of fury stormed through the door, I let out the breath I had been holding, but the Gendry I was watching stumbled off his stool and fell to the ground in shock.

"What are you doing here," I'd asked, weakly.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" The anger in her voice had rattled me to my core, and I did my best to keep looking into her cold, gray eyes.

Sansa reached a hand down to help pull me to my feet, and I had stared at her, as if begging her to save me from this misery of my own making.

"This was for the best, Gendry," she said, squeezing my shoulder and giving Arya a nod before leaving the room.

There was silence for a long painful moment, to the point where I couldn't take the void that was settling between us.

"Do you want any?" I finally asked, picking up the second grilled cheese sandwich Sansa had just set down for me.

My casual words seemed to break her and suddenly, she was up in my face. She may have been a good head-and-a-half shorter than me, but she still seemed dangerous when she was mad, and I had almost dropped the plate instead of setting it down safely.

"You could drive halfway across the country, but you couldn't even show up at my door?" She said, like it had taken everything in her to just get the words out. Tears slid down her face, staining her cheeks with the sadness that had tried to hide behind the anger.

"I didn't feel like I had the right," I admitted, collapsing onto the nearby sofa that had already been pulled out into a bed. My head hid in my hands. "At first, I just needed a few days to process everything, and then I spent the next week too embarrassed to tell you, and then it felt too late. I'd kept it from you too long. You deserve better."

"Maybe that's true, but I want you. We have a few hours to spend together in a car to get home. You can tell me then or you can tell me now, but you will tell me."

I nodded, scooting over so she had a place to sit.

Once the words started coming out, I could stop them. I listened for what felt like hours as the past me explained it all. The letter I'd gotten in the mail. The end of the once seemingly endless cash flow that I, a poor boy from Flea Bottom, had grown accustomed to. How all the dreams I had never hoped to dream fell to the ground like dust. No more becoming an architect or an engineer. No more corner house on a good street with enough room for a pack of dogs to run around. No more the kind of man who could marry into one of the most important families in the realm.

After a while, I got up to grab a glass of water, but the silence didn't last long.

"That's why you haven't talked to me in nearly a month? I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere until Hot Pie said you texted him."

"It felt like I was," I said, taking a sip in the quiet that followed her words. It was true. When I was younger, I'd been called gutter trash all the time, and gutter trash I'd become once more.

She was still angry with me, I could tell, but her expression softened, and she held my back to her chest all night long. And when we returned to my small flat, she didn't even make a face at the stench coming from the kitchen.

I watched as slowly, my dear, sweet Arya put all the pieces back together. Without knowing it, she was the glue that had held me together all those years.

She dished both of us up a plate of spaghetti and sat down beside me, idly twirling the strands with her fork.

"I don't know if I can trust you now, Gendry. I was really hurt," she admitted.

"I know," I said, putting down my fork. "I won't do that again. I promise. From now on, you'll have all of me. Every piece."

After everything I'd put her through, though, and everything she was dealing with too, after that day, she only had most of her to give. And I took every morsel I could.

This time when I felt the pull of the magic dragging me farther into the past, I fought it as hard as I could. "I can't. I can't," I muttered to the unyielding force gripping me ever tighter. "I can't," but I knew I had to.

Suddenly, I was back on campus, laying flat on my back with clouds drifting through the endless blue sea of the sky above.

Arya's laugh filtered through everything else, and I closed my eyes to hear it better. It was even more beautiful than the sunny sky. Better than the feel of the soft grass under my fingers.

For a moment, I let myself pretend I was laying with her there again, as if for the first time, blocking out my past self who was also lying on the sun-warmed lawn.

"This is nice," I said, my words an echo of the past.

"The sun is nice," Arya said, and I let her voice surround me in a way the grass under my back never could.

"No," I said, in perfect tune. "I meant this, lying here with you."

"Oh!" I could hear her smile. "You're right. I could do this forever."

A tear dropped down my face, one that hadn't been there before, my broken voice joining that of a green boy of 24.

"I could too."

Opening my eyes to the bright light, I watched Arya and my old self stroll down the hillside on paths I could no longer follow, leaving me broken with the sky open above.

#arya x gendry #gendrya #modern au #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #gendry #gendry baratheon #arya stark #hurt/comfort

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