#i WISH i had that level of self-confidence as you tony

[1800jjbarnes]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

【Synopsis】 :  He told you a secret that was supposed to die in the grave. Now you don't know if you can control your own urges around him.

『Word count』 : 1.78k 

Paring: Stever Rogers x Stark!Reader  

[Warnings] : Pinning, fighting inner feelings, pet names, heartbreak, seduction, heavy makeout, battling feelings, neck kissing, hair pulling, marking.

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It all happened so quickly. It was the most excited and nervous you've ever felt. Whatever self-control Steve had that night was crumbled away. His confession had been firmly and completely out of the blue. Then again, it might have been the alcohol in his system that gave him the confidence to do it. Sober Steve's level of self-restraint might have kept his secret longer, but now he couldn't get over how many secretive glances you both exchanged. But that's all the relationship was, a side-eye glance here and there. Small brushes of shoulders. Or the occasional lingering fingers grazing over random fabric covered skin.

"Have fun." You told your brother, Tony, with a big smile, making him smile back at you. Your smile always made you look younger, well younger than your twenty-first-year self. That is what Tony would always say. "Don't stress too much about me. I won’t drink too much."

Tony and the rest of the Avengers had a meeting with some Government type people for their new upcoming programs, Missions, blah blah, you didn't really pay attention to the whole array of tasks he had planned. All you knew was Tony planned to drink the whole time he was there. He briefly said goodbye along with the others before getting in the van to leave.

Once entering inside, you briefly caught a glimpse of Steve down the hall. The gym door wide opene, and his smooth skin is covered in a layer of sweat as he does pull-ups. Butterflies fly around in your stomach as his gaze meets yours for a moment. You knew he declined about going to the meeting, saying he needed to “catch up” on training. You knew it was a lie. He just didn’t want to go, simple. You quickly walked into the kitchen, grabbing a drink. Closing the fridge, you turn around to see the older man behind you, making you jump.

"Jesus Steve! You scared me." You held your chest, feeling your heart was going to beat right out of it.

"Ha, sorry, Sugar." His low chuckle made your heartbeat ever faster. Is this man trying to give you a heart attack?! He also grabbed a drink from the fridge while granting you an award-winning smile the whole time. You made your way to the living room, situating yourself on the floor in front of the couch. Your back pressed against the bottom half of it, you take a sip from your bottle in the hopes it will calm your nerves.

Steve entered the lounge room soon after, a water bottle in hand. You noticed he had ditched his top t-shirt, leaving him in a tight black singlet and joggers. His hair was wet, stray hairs stuck to his forehead. Your mind wandered, sometimes wished he wasn't your brother's friend, one of his best friends. James chose to sit on the floor beside you, his long legs extending in front of him. You both didn't say anything for a moment choosing to sit in silence...Until.

"Hey, umm..." Steve began to speak, nerves surging through his words. "About the other night..."

You turned your attention to him slowly. With worry, you begged with your doe eyes for him not to say any words, especially anything to do with what happened a couple of nights ago. But as in most situations in life where you wanted something really badly, you were met with a big spoonful of disappointment.

"I shouldn't have said that to you. I was drunk and I crossed a line." He took a swigged of his water, only to meet his eyes with your unexpected reaction.

"Sadly, no lines were crossed." You had a half-smile, looking down at your drink. Hearing your words, Steve could only chuckle out, laying his head on the couch. He took another long chugged of his water before finishing the bottle entirely.

"You know We can't do anything about this. About us, I mean."

You remained silent.

"I know you're Tony’s little sister, and you might not fully realize the consequences of doing something like this bu—Believe me, I understand the consequences." You cut him off feeling a sad pit form in your stomach. He exhaled deeply, dragging his hand across his face and through his hair in frustration.

"Help me out then," He begs, turning his body to face you. "We need to stop with the longing eyes and touches. If Tony catches us..." He pauses, trying to find the words.

"I can't help it...and neither can you.." You eye him, leaning your elbow into the couch cushion, resting your head on your hand.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," He apologized, sounding defeated. "I know it's not on purpose, but you're not making this whole thing easy for me." He sighs, leaning back on the couch, looking at the roof.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm the one pinning over Tony Stark's little sister. You've got nothing to be sorry about." You smiled softly because despite the seriousness of your conversation, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. You know on your side, you were still Tony’s sister, but on his, it could ruin his life, his friendship, everything. Tony wouldn’t forgive the soldier if he so much as ‘tainted’ his baby sister. You placed a hand on his arm in a reassuring way.

"Don't beat yourself up about this, and besides, nothing has even happened..." You sounded a lot more disappointed in your voice than you wanted, and Steve noticed.

"I know how you feel about me, and I've already told you how I feel, but if anything were to happen—I know." You pressed your lips together, cutting him off again, forcing yourself to smile sadly.

"Do you?" He pressed, tilting his head to look at you. "Because you're still holding my bicep." he laughed lightly.

"Sorry, I-..." You couldn't find the words, pulling your hand away. Steve chuckled quietly. His smile was bright in your eyes despite the situation that was unravelling. He took your hand that was resting on his arm into his own. Slowly tangling his fingers with yours. Looking down at your entwined digits, expression almost pained.

"It's okay," He reassured with a voice soft. "I guess I'm just rambling about boundaries..." A moment of silence grew again until he gently reached over and placed his finger beneath your chin, forcing you to look in his direction. He gazed at you for a long moment, allowing a second to calm down his nerves as he stared worriedly into your eyes. Sadness was filling your sense, even if you wanted to hide the fact that your heart was definitively breaking.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay, alright? No one needs to know about what happened between us."

He waited, a long moment passing as you battled your thoughts and emotions. Why did he have to be so caring, so sweet, so... inviting... He stared into your eyes with the softest smile across his lips, His eye creasing with reassurance. In a second impulse, you no longer had restraint, leaning over to kiss him.

It was an innocent kiss, a peck; nothing more, nothing less. It lasted just over a second, and then you pulled back, feeling stunned by your own bravery and simultaneously guilty about the whole thing. You could feel your cheeks burning up, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, feeling nothing but embarrassment. Your eyes finally met Steve's. You quickly see that he looks just as surprised as you felt in the moment. But his emotion of surprise was soon joined by something else, something that made him look more pained, feeling his heartstring pull so hard they felt like they were going to break.

He inhaled sharply, his face only inches from yours. It was a long moment of battling his feelings before finally, feeling like the damage had already been done, he let his hand slip from yours. It was only a brief second before his hand found your cheek. Holding your face firmly in his hands, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"I won't tell if you don't." And just like that, he eagerly pulled you against him, pressing his mouth to your own. It wasn't innocent or gently as the previous kiss had been. There was desperation covered in need and urgency. Feeling the desire pool from Steve, you take it in to dive headfirst, throwing away any and everything that had been spoken about before. Your heart was beating frantically as you pushed yourself onto your knees. Steve gripped your thighs, helping you climb onto his large lap. He pulled you closer, one hand squeezing your thigh while the other held firmly around your waist, trapping you to him. The kiss was hot, tongues fighting and teeth clashing. You let out a groan as Steve's mouth connected with your hot flesh on your jawbone, then your neck, licking a wet trail until your collar bone. Your fingers pulled lightly on his hair, moaning as you felt him begin to suck harshly on your skin.

Suddenly—much to both of your disappointments—the sounds of and elevator ding as metal doors clanked. You both snapped back to reality, frantic, you slide out of Steve’s lap, situating yourself back against the couch. While Steve jumped so fast to sit on the furthest couch in the room, hiding in the array of decorative pillows.

"Y/n?" Tony called, turning the corner. He spotted you and Steve with a smile, "I forgot my glasses," He said with a light sigh, picking up the case with the newest tech glasses he had designed. He planned on showing them off today in hopes someone might take interest. You watch him walk back towards the hall but stop to turn back again.

Steve looked to you with an expression of panic, promptly deciding the best course of action was to try and act like absolutely nothing had happened. The sounds of footsteps echoed through the hall, making Steve glance one more time at you with a look of "I can't believe we just did that" painting his feautres.

"The meeting might hold us up a little longer than expected, so if it's not too much, would you be able to drive y/n home." He faced Steve before turning his gaze to you. "Sorry we couldn't hang out more." He gave you a quick apologetic look. You say it's fine before he quickly left without another word, letting silence take hold again. You look over at Steve once you hear the elevator doors close. He has a devilish smile on his face, no longer even thinking about any sort of boundaries anymore.

"Wanna continue at yours, do I have to carry you upstairs?"

#steve rogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #mcu #marvel #fanfic #chris evens #chris evans #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x you #marvel steve rogers #mcu steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #steve rodgers x y/n #steve rodgers x you #steve rodgers smut #steve rodgers fanfiction #steve rodgers #jjbarnes #1-800-jjbarnes

[chemlock]

On Social Anxiety

Heres some thoughts of someone who went from panic attacks in the bathroom to a good level of social functionality, working towards greatness. I'm not perfect (well, I mean, I might be, but that's besides the point), but here's some stuff that helped.

First off, no one cares!! No one cares. You may be the main character of your own life, but not everyone else's. No one thinks as much about you as much as you probably think they do, and I'm not saying that to be mean. Think about it. How often do you really give an in-depth look to the people around you? Probably not very often, and definitely not with the scrutiny you give yourself.

People are much too self-absorbed to think about you. No one notices much outside of themselves, and if they do, they're not going to devote much time thinking about it.

Play pretend. Pretend everyone who's looking at you because you're amazing. People staring at you after you raised your hand in class? Because your question was so smart, everyone else wished they had asked. Got a look for your outfit? Because you look spectacular. No other reason.

No one can stop you from pretending things. Like, literally no one. So why not? Why not be a little delusional about it?

Chances are, you're being a bit dramatic. Would you think the same thoughts you think other people think to someone else? Say you're at the park and you trip. You think, "Oh no, everyone thinks I look dumb and clumsy." Chances are, no one saw it. And if they did, they probably just thought, "Oh, hope that persons ok." And went back to what they were doing, never to think about it again.

Think about it this way. Two people go to the mall, one in entirely scene goth outfit, and the other in a coquette/pink fit. Both of these people will be judged. Someone might look at the goth and think, "Oh wow, they're way too overdressed, and I hate their outfit, too black!" And they might look at the person in coquette and think."What a Lana del wannabe! The bows look too childish."

My point is that no matter what you wear to the mall, you will be judged by someone. So if you'll be judged anyways, why not go in what you're comfortable in? Anything serves cunt if you have the courage.

Above all, confidence is key. If you walk like you're supposed to be there, no one will question it. People won't question you if you don't look like you're questioning yourself. I don't care where you are or what you're doing, do it as confidently as possible, and you'll be okay.

And last but not least, here's a really random tip that helped me. Pick a fictional character who doesn't give a fuck, and pretend to be them. It can be anyone, as long as they're confident and maybe a bit out there. You could choose someone like Sherlock, Tony Stark, Jack Sparrow, Hannibal. I chose Klaus Hargreeves, and in social situations where I felt anxious, I'd think, "Would Klaus be too shy to pick up a book at the library? I think the fuck not."

I understand you can't fix social anxiety in a night, but hopefully, this helped a little. Enjoy your day/night and remember that chocolate milk fixes everything. And if it doesn't then at least you also have a glass of chocolate milk.

#sherlock #social anxiety #deductionist #deductions #adding lots of tags bc some ppl really need this #so here #confidence #ignore seemingly random tags please #anxitey #mental health #stress

[thran-duils]

I Crave Annihilation (P.3)

Title: I Crave Annihilation (Part Three) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mafia!Dark Tony Stark. Tony works for the reader’s very influential politician father moving guns and drugs. She starts flirting with him and he is returning the vibes. She moves into her own place out of her parent’s house and texts him to come save her from a house party. Smut ensues. Words: 3,069 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, HUGE age difference, angst, violence, infidelity, possessive behavior

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“He’s here,” your mother whispered in your ear as you rinsed the dishes from the counter.

You had gone immediately into the house instead of into the back yard, Gabriel following you inside. He had held out the food he had brought to her and she thanked him. The two of you got under her skin when you two got together at these things but she loved him deeply. He was one of your best friends still. He had walked off towards the liquor cabinet when your mum approached to whisper to you.

“I know,” you told her, not taking your eyes off the dishes.

“Have you seen him?”

“No. I came straight in here. Jackson went out there though. I’m sure Steve will be all too ready to point out to Tony who he is.”

Your mother looked at you worriedly, “Has Steve been bothering you?”

“No. I just know he’s keeping tabs.”

“’Keeping tabs’…” she muttered, shaking her head. “You cannot let him get back underneath your skin.”

“Mum, he’s always been under my skin. I feel I’ve just been trying to fill a void.” You noticed the way she was looking at you and you shrugged, “It’s why I don’t want to go out there. Because I’ll see him… And…”

She shook her head and said crossly, “I told you… I warned you.”

“Are you really going to blame me for feeling this way? You still ended up with dad.” She faltered and you said, “No, I put that together a long while ago. Dad is twelve years older than you!”

“That’s different.”

You reached forward and turned the water off, to stand up and face her fully. “That’s different? Then why did you bring it up that night when you found us?”

“He’s almost twenty years older than you!”

“And?”

“Don’t you love Jackson?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then why would you even entertain the idea?” she sounded exasperated.

“You and dad are more similar to me and him than you are giving me credit for.”

Your mum snapped, “No, I know that. You just have a chance with Jackson.”

“You seem perfectly fine,” you hissed back at her.

“Money softens the blow, Y/N. It doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m sorry for you that you’ve been miserable for so long.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“You are sure sounding like it!”

“I just… Jackson is good. Jackson treats you like an equal! Yes, I’m happy with your father but I wish he would also treat me like I was his partner rather than just his wife. Jackson gives you that. Tony wouldn’t!”

You paused before asking, “Is that why you were gone all the time?”

“What?” she asked, giving you a shocked look.

“You were always gone. It was always just me and dad. Or me and the nanny.” She opened her mouth to say something but apparently she could not think of anything and she closed it again. You sighed, “It was always me and dad… you were always gone. On some trip. Just at a spa retreat. I never had you around until suddenly in my teens when you realized I had blossomed.”

“Because I had to protect you.” She sounded so self-righteous.

“And you did for years. From the sidelines. Since I was what, 14?” You straightened up seeing Gabriel was coming back from the other room and said quickly and quietly, “I’m going to steer clear of him as much as I can, mum. If that’s what you’re worried about. I do love Jackson.”

Gabriel said, “Mom, I found your favorite rum! Should we make daiquiris?”

Donning a perfect mask and pulling away from you, your mum said, “That sounds lovely, Gabriel.”

With a wink, Gabriel said, “That’s what I always try to be for you. You’re my favorite.”

“Suck up,” your mother teased, shooting another glance at you before walking away and following him to the blender. “There are strawberries in the fridge, love.”

<><><>

“Well, she’s here,” Steve said, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. “At least somewhere because Jacksons here.” He pointed in the general direction quick. Tony looked Jackson over and simpered. Steve smirked in return and said, “Yeah, that’s the competition.”

“He makes her happy though according to you which is pretty big competition,” Tony replied, bringing his own cigarette up to his lips and taking a long drag.

The two of them shut up as Bucky and Sam came back to the table. Bucky had been in prison with Tony as well as Thor and he had not had to confide to them about the relationship because Steve had been on the outside keeping an eye on Y/N for him. They fell back into conversation sans her for a while.

Then Y/N walked out with another guy. He drank her in slowly. She had aged, obviously. But she was still as gorgeous as ever. His eyes ran up her body, trailing over her short, high waisted shorts. He saw she was looking at him and she quickly looked away, turning her attention to the guy at her side again. Tony cocked his head, recognition coming on.

“Is that…” he said to Steve under his breath. Steve looked at Tony for an explanation and Tony said, “That guy from that bar. That one time.”

“Yep. Gabriel. They’ve been friends since college. You think Jackson is gonna be the problem to get her alone? No, it’s going to be Gabriel.” He stopped for a moment before chuckling and saying louder so Bucky and Sam could hear to not arouse suspicion about their whispering, “And Rebecca is already on them.”

“How do you mean?” Tony asked, watching Rebecca stop on a dime and turn back to stare them whispering between each other.

“They always get into trouble,” Steve explained. “One year, she asked Y/N to help her with the food and she was already too drunk to do it and she paid one of her friend’s to do it because her and Gabriel had already been day drinking. They took Molly another year. Gabriel fell off the table he was dancing on and rolled his ankle. Last year… they took some shrooms and disappeared for hours and Rebecca found them in the far back lying amongst the rocks, still high off their asses watching the stars.” He snorted seeing her point at the two of them threateningly. “Yet, she coddles the shit out of him and loves him to death. Look at them and their matching daiquiris.”

<><><>

He had sunglasses on but the way his head was pointed, you knew he was looking at you. Fuck. He had an undercut now, nice glasses, and his shirt unbuttoned, leaning back in the chair without a care. You made sure you did not linger too long on him before turning your eyes away. But you knew it had already been a couple seconds too long no matter how long it was because as soon as he had you in his sights, and he knew he had you, that was endgame.

Gabriel was there and tugged on your arm. He pulled you towards the covered area with the grills where your dad and Thor were cooking. He looked in his element, fresh out of prison and enjoying doing this again.

“I got some…” Gabriel caught your attention again. He gestured snorting and your eyebrows rose in response and he grinned. “When do you wanna?”

“I don’t know if we should though….” you said trailing off, shooting a quick look and finding Tony still watching you. You should be on your toes tonight… but maybe it would make it that much easier to just brush it off if something did happen…

“What? Come on! This is the perfect time! There’s a lot of people around and it’s not like—”

“What are you two whispering about?” your mum asked, startling the two of you. She saw you two jump too before looking at her and she leveled the two of you with a threatening glare. She was carrying a plate of cut vegetables in one hand, her drink in the other, obviously about to go put them out on one of the tables.

“Nothing, mum,” you and Gabriel said in unison.

“What?” you asked innocently when she was still silent after a couple moments.

“I don’t trust either of you. Not after last year.”

Right. The shrooms. And she had found the two of you lying between two of the rocks in the back part of the garden, giggling, half naked.

“I sincerely apologize for that. Still. Can I send you a third bouquet of orchids?” Gabriel said, giving her a curt bow, smiling sheepishly. He held up his drink at her in surrender.

Your mum’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, holding back a smile. She adored Gabriel but she did mean business. She did not want to babysit again this year. Her finger left her glass and she pointed between the two of you and said, “No funny business this year. Especially you, Y/N. Keep your head on straight.”

You held back a scowl at the comment. Gabriel looked confused for a moment and you said as she walked off, “She’s right. I should just stick to drinks.”

“Bitch, I—”

“I’ll do it with you next weekend, Promise! We should give her a break for one year.”

Gabriel groaned and took a long drink of his daiquiri. “Fine! I’ll go ask Jackson to share his bud. Buzzkill! Both of you!”

<><><>

In your old bedroom that you and Jackson were going to sleep in, you tore your shirt off and your swim suit top, tossing them carelessly on the bed. It was getting cold outside and you were ready to change into your pajamas and a sweatshirt. You heard the door open and close behind you as you reached for your pajama top. Without turning around, you said, “I thought you guys were going to stay in the hot tub for a little bit longer.”

“Your hair is different.”

Whipping around, holding your shirt up against your bare chest, you found Tony standing there, hands in his pockets. He was blocking your way to the door, looking confident as ever. Prison had only given him time to work out, as you could plainly see from his open shirt, and apparently had done nothing for his domineering personality. He was still bold as ever, showing up here in your room knowing you were changing when your husband was outside.

“Tony!” you hissed, mortified. “Get out!”

He smirked at your attempt to shield your nudeness from him. “I haven’t seen it in a very long time, but still, is there really any reason to be modest around me? I mean, I’ve been in every hole—”

“Shut up!” you told him furiously – embarrassed, really –, turning away from him, and throwing your shirt over your head. You heard him move and you turned back around quickly finding him closing the space between the two of you and you stood your ground. “You shouldn’t be in here!”

He cocked his head, his face scrunched in vexation. “So, you’ve only been teasing me all night?”

“’Teasing’? What are you going on about?” you said, trying to play dumb.

“Sweet pea, your sneaky glances and putting yourself in my line of sight did not go unnoticed. You’re not subtle, not to me. We played that game for years if you care to recall. Almost three to be exact. The only thing I regret is not going in for you sooner so we would’ve had more time together in the sack. I had a plethora of memories to dive into while I was incarcerated but shit, I would’ve enjoyed more.” He stepped closer and this time you did take a step back and you did not miss his fleeting amusement. He leaned in closer and said, “I know your games and your little tantalizing behaviors.”

The drunker you had gotten throughout the night, the more you found yourself slipping into your old ways. He was correct about that history between the two of you. That first night you had seen him when you were in the pool and since then, you had always tried to be in his sights and it had paid off for you. Tonight, you had found yourself drawn back, adjusting your swimsuit where you knew he could see and sitting in the chairs where he could keep his eye on you. It had been a conscious decision. You hated yourself for it, how much you craved him and his attention still. You were stuck between the life you currently were leading and being dragged back into your relationship with him. Stealing those glances to see if he was looking had only fueled the fire more because he had been watching you like a hawk. Every time you had looked his way, especially when it had gotten dark and his glasses had come off, you caught him always watching your movement. He had looked hungry, just like he looked now.

What your mother said came back to you then, remembering how Jackson treated you versus how she believed – and you knew deep down – Tony would. You hated you wanted Tony so badly and simultaneously craved the partnership you had with Jackson.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but Tony, I’m married now,” you said, mustering more calm in your tone than you actually felt.

Tony looked tickled by that response and you gritted your teeth, knowing he was going to brush you off. And he did. “Yeah, I’m happy he was keeping you well and safe for me. You look amazing. I am beyond impressed.” He raised his hand, his hand ghosting down your side to grip at your waist. You tried to flinch away, but his other hand shot up and held you on your other side, preventing you from moving back. His thumbs caressed as he told you, “But you’re still mine, don’t act like you’ve forgotten.”

“You can’t just order me to divorce my husband!” you told him defensively.

“Who said anything about divorce so soon?” Tony chuckled. It was foreboding the way he said ‘so soon’. It was all too clear where he wanted this to go. “I was just starting out with the courteous approach of inserting myself into the situation. Letting it play out.”

God, you hated his ego but fuck if you were not responding in like. Still, you fought against it and tried to hide it. “’Courteous’. Cute, Tony.” You leaned in and said, “If you want tits and pussy, you can go on the Boulevard. It’s about twenty minutes away.”

You pushed his hands down away from you and started to turn away, to reach for your sweatshirt. But his grasp was tight on your arm, yanking you back roughly. You gasped as your noses brushed, before he let you go back a couple inches. You smelled the bourbon on his breath, something you used to relish in.

“I’m not fucking around, Y/N. You’re coming back to me,” he growled. He pulled away even more and looked at you disappointed. He shook his head slightly and said, “You didn’t even come visit.”

That cut deep, unexpected by you. He actually looked hurt.

“I couldn’t! You know I couldn’t leave the state without—”

His demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, again.

“No, this is where you zip it. Okay? The adult is talking,” Tony snapped, his fingers digging into your arm. He melted you right back down to the naïve girl you had been. “You’ve had your fun. Seven years of it actually while I was rotting away in a cell. I’m glad you got to make house and have good dick. And by glad, I mean I am monumentally fucking pissed off.” The words spit like venom. “I had to sit there day after day thinking about how you just threw it away, so easily. I was so disappointed in you, precious. How you could just leave me there like that, after all I did for you?”

Pitifully, you started, “Tony, you’re scaring—”

“Oh, don’t use that as an excuse! Don’t play victim! It’s not cute, Y/N. Stop wasting both our time. You know you want it as bad as I do. I get you feel guilty about your little husband but he was just a placeholder until I got back.” His eyes flashed and his hand left your arm, wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His eyes ran over your face and he leaned like he was going to kiss you and you blinked, watching him closely. He stopped himself at the last second though, running his tongue along his lips. His hand slipped down to your ass, cupping. “I want you around me so badly. So badly. I’ve dreamt about that cunt for years.” Your heart picked up pace. “I’ve dreamt about having you for so long, precious. Don’t deny me this. Not after everything I went through. Especially without you there for comfort.”

You were quiet, your lips parted in surprise, staring at him. His fingers flexed on your back after a few moments at your silence. His tone was firm when he told you, “You’re getting in that Uber with me. You understand me?”

An Uber? He was going to make you leave here?

“We can’t just leave. My mum—”

“Yeah, your mom is passed out. Or should be soon.”

“What? I--”

“She likes her daiquiris way too much and opioids.” Tony snorted and added with a laugh, “Giving you shit for having sex and she can’t even stay sober.” He got closer  again and said, “And your husband is way too high, he’s gonna pass out soon. I’m sure we can make a story up between now and whenever his ass wakes up. I have a lot of time to make up for, so the longer you stand in front of me like a fish gaping at me, the more time you wasted. I’m already ordering the ride as soon as I can take my hands off you.” He squeezed his hand once more on your ass before telling you, “What you craved in us you won’t find in him. If you did, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @buttercandy16 @esistmon @flawra16

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #mob tony stark #dark marvel fic #dark marvel #my shit

[mrsmarymorstan]

Don't why the fans especially the manga readers are hyping about tooru breaking the curse when she didn't even do shit. she just went on that silly adventure and be an annoying crybaby whenever she learns something new about the curse. it was actually akito who broke the curse so i can't understand what you are all hyping tohru on.

Ah yes, I to remember the days when I’d be deliberately antagonistic just for fun and beat on female characters for showing emotions and caring about people. Or indeed, resent characters for having entirely realistic reactions to the cosmic horror and terror that surrounds them. Then I turned 16 and HER WE ARE ten years later and I get to see it from a whole new perspective! What fun. 

In your misguided attempt to cause drama by shitting on people having a good time by being excited about upcoming character moments, much like Dr Flemming’s unwashed petri dish, you have hit upon something that benefits further discussion and interest. 

That point being, was it TOHRU who broke the curse, or was it Akito? 

The answer, I believe, is both. SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLIES TONY YOU ARE WARNED DO NOT @ ME AGAIN IF YOU MESS UP. 

When Tohru sets out to break the curse and stop the love of her life from being locked up in a cold dark room for the rest of his existence, she finds out that the curse is firstly, a bond of blood sworn by the spririts of the past and not something that can be physically manifested, and secondly, that the curse has already begun to break RE: Kureno. 

Now, there’s a LOT of theories about why Kureno’s curse broke and if it truly was some random event or if there was a trigger. I think it’s a combination of the two. It’s noted by the maids and by (I think) Shigure that this is the first time in a long time that the entire Juunishi are present. There is also a sizeable age gap betwee Hiro and Kureno, that would about match up between Hiro being an infant when Kureno’s curse broke. Ergo, I propose that his curse broke soon after their first New Year’s together as a complete banquet with no spaces missing. Save that of the cat, of course, but more on him later. 

Kureno is the rooster, and I believe that in legend the Rooster was seen as the closest to God because he could deliver messages between heaven and earth. Therefore it makes sense that the first to leave God alone, is God’s messenger. “We have had our final Banquet, it’s time to end the cycle.” 

Of course Akito/God does not have a positive reaction to this, and the loss of one Juunishi inspires a great sense of loneliness and fear within Akito similar to that which lead to the creation of the bond in the first place. We do not see God being willing to make any attempt to work on achieving the Cat’s wish of finally being able to form friendships beyond the Zodiac and forming bonds with the humans he was so afraid of before. 

And THAT is the crux of the matter. Tohru came into the Sohma’s lives and began to break the curse simply by forming close bonds with them all, and letting them into her life and react to the world around them. Hana and Uo are both friends with Kyo and Yuki, actively choosing to spend time together. We also see that in Kyo attending the same school as Yuki, it opens up that same school to Haru and Momiji where they too can form bonds outside of the Sohma influence. It’s a school THEY chose, not the single sex one Akito picked out. Equally this means we have to give some credit to Yuki for making the brave choice of defying his parents and Akito’s wishes by attending a mixed school, and Shigure (who continues to be the mastermind here) for goading Akito into allowing Kyo to also attend that school and not simply pay off the private school he was MEANT to attend and have them let him back in. 

It’s also no real surprise that the two other Juunishi whose curses break before the final scene are Momiji and Hiro. Hiro is shown to be forming bonds outside of the Zodiac too. Not only has he matured enough that he is able to understand things from Tohru’s perspective now and has a relatively positive relationship with her, he ALSO becomes a Big Brother with a little sister he adores. Again, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his curse breaks whilst he is in the same room as her. The Sheep has formed a meaningful relationship outside of the Zodaic, so it is time for the Sheep Spirit to return to its original realm. We then have Momiji, who is absolutely desperately in love with Tohru and is also equally desperate to be allowed to have a relationship with his OWN sister. Momiji’s curse breaks only after he has gone through puberty though and reaches adulthood. It’s when he starts to truly understand the path that is laid before him, and where he stands in it. He WANTS a relationship with Tohru, but he can also recognise that she is in love with Kyo and that makes it all the more painful. He knows that as he ages he is only going to be made to feel more distant from his sister, and that hurts too. HOWEVER, Momiji doesn’t ever stop LONGING for meaningful relationships and a world beyond the life of the Zodiac. He recognises that he does not have anything really tying him to the Sohma anymore, and so his curse breaks. The rabbit spirit has no need to be part of the banquet, and so heads home.   

Now, as you can see, whilst Tohru is a key trigger in the breaking of the curse, she’s still not the one to actively do it, right? 

Well, wrong. Sort of. 

Take note that when we’re told the ACTUAL story of the Original Banquet , we find that the Cat was the first friend God ever made, and was also the first to die. It was the death of the cat that triggered God into creating the eternal bond that would always bring them together, and it was the cat’s terror and dismay at being forced into such a bond that caused them to disown him. The cat has, all along, simply wanted God to make friends. The first who had the curse take effect upon them, was the one who rejectd it the most and as such was then shunned forever more. The cat wanted God to make bonds outside of the Zodiac, and in turn the cat was forever banned form making those bonds. Even though we’ve been show the Cat was granted some realtionships in the form of Kazuma’s Grandmother; it is a relationship made out of pitty rather than love and understanding. 

Tohru though? Torhu is the God Damned (excuse the pun) Year of the Cat Fanclub PRESIDENT. Nobody loves and respects the OG Cat Spirit in the way she does. She emphasied with the Cat’s plight in the legend her mother told her, feeling sorry for them being tricked like that and being forced to miss out on being part of the legend. She wanted the cat to join the group! She cradled the cat’s body in much the same way God in his final moments, as instead this time Tohru brings him back into the light and forms a stronger and longer lasting relationship with the cat spirit through love and empathy.

And later on, in that same mountainside, it is TOHRU who is the one who reaches out her hand to god and asks to become friends. It is the act of God forming friends with mortal humans that triggers Akito/God to finally release everyone from their curse. That’s why it happens when it does, when Akito knows that Tohru is safely out of hospital, that she has still welcomed Akito into her life... and that if Akito is going to take those terrifying steps into forming relationships that can end in rejection, she’s going to have to do it on her own two feet. 

THAT is how Tohru breaks the curse. THAT is what is important here and what is so FUCKING HARD ROCK about Tohru Honda. We see her willing to stand up to GOD in order to break the curse, but she stands before God as an EQUAL. Tohru WILL break the curse. She WILL fight for her soulmate. She WILL make you be friends with her and address your deep seated issues of self hate and abandonment (not that she has those issues herself ahahahha no I’m just your average happy go lucky teenager with two dead parents who lives in a tent I’M FINE) 

Of course, it turns out that everything Shigure and Kazuma told her about breaking the curse was true: That she didn’t have to do anything other than to continue to be herself. HOWEVER, in order to BE herself she needed to try and have a “silly adventure” where she tested her metal and learnt to speak up for herself. Why are we excited? Because we’re going to see Tohru finally find the confidence to speak out against others without harm! We see her get into a fight with Rin about it. We see her refusing to back down against Kagura. We see her standing on her own two feet and saying “No. No I don’t want that. I REFUSE to give in and to leave well alone!” 

All before, Tohru has been so scared to speak up for herself because of her debilitating abandonment issues (and please let’s not make fun of people’s mental health issues, okay? I haven’t been having a weekly therapy session for nearly two years now just because for the fun of it) but now she’s got to the point where she feels comfortable and secure enough to show an uglier side to herself that people might reject. She is able to be mean, and shout, and fucking break into someone’s house in order to get what she wants! How can a TRUE fruits basket fan NOT be excitd for that level of character development? 

And to end it, please, for the LOVE OF GOD it is 2020. I am 26 years old. I have been on tumblr since 2011. Do not send me hate about female fictional characters and expect me to roll over. My username is “Mrs Mary Morstan”. Mary. Morstan. The most hated female character in all of BBC Sherlock. Do not even try to fucking test me, you Petri Dish. 

#Fruits Basket #Furuba #Furuba Manga Spoilers #Tohru Honda #Akito Sohma #The Curse #The Juunishi #Anonymous #greatest hits

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were, part 3

part one

part two

summary: it’s getting harder to pretend that everything is okay. 

word count: 4.2k

warnings: step- inc*st, smut, underage sex, suicidal ideation (oops), ANGST, depression, self-harm mention (doesn’t actually happen, just intrusive thoughts), it’s all mentioned very casually so if this is triggering for you please don’t read!! <3 , ambiguous ending 

this is the last part y’all! thanks for going on this ride with me. this was my first multi-chap fic and it kinda gave me the confidence to know that i’m capable of writing longer stuff without it being super shitty lol. sorry that it’s taken me so long!! 

love you all

- bloo 

It's getting harder to pretend that everything is okay.

Peter hates to say it, fuck, the thought physically pains him, but he’s glad the school year’s almost over. He’s glad that it’s almost time for graduation, time for Tony to leave for the special summer program MIT invited him to participate in. 

He just wants to stop feeling like this, never wants to feel like this ever again. He always feels heavy, weighed down, like his clothes are soaking wet. It’s a feeling that goes deep into his bones, leaving him cold, aching, and tired. 

It’s a good thing there’s not really any work left to do for school, other than exams; Peter spends most of his time in bed, headphones on and staring at the wall, the one that separates his room from Tony’s. 

He keeps hearing Pepper’s voice in his head. He thinks you hung the moon, babe. It’s so cute. The words make him burn inside, make him want to dig his fingers in and peel his skin back until the feeling spills out of him. Until his blood spill out, until he doesn’t have to deal with this anymore- Fuck-

That’s how his brain is working, now. The intrusive thoughts have reached new levels. Peter’s always had them, he’s been passively suicidal for most of his adolescence, but it seems that any minor inconvenience has him ready to end it all. But it makes sense, he supposes. He’s already hurting, already weary and withdrawn. It really wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. 

Too bad he doesn’t really want to die. He just wants everything to...stop. So that he doesn’t have to feel like this.

And because the universe is obviously enjoying fucking with him, the first thing he sees walking out of first period is Pepper walking down the hallway, a faded black t-shirt hanging from her shoulders, exposing the bright red of her bra straps. 

Peter recognizes the garment immediately.

It’s the Black Sabbath shirt, the one he’d kept under his pillow for over a week. The one he’d spilled multiple loads of cum onto before finally putting it in his laundry and carefully slipping it back into Tony’s room once it had been washed. 

And now Pepper’s wearing it. Which means Tony gave it to her.

Peter stops, freezes right there in the doorway of Mrs. Flannigan’s classroom. He blinks, staring blankly in the direction the blonde had gone. His classmates protest behind him, pushing forward until he snaps out of it. Taking a few stumbling steps to the side, he leans back against the wall.

He feels like he can’t breathe. Some kid walking down the hall looks at him funny, and he realizes that there are tears rolling down his cheeks. Hastily wiping them away, he slowly pushes himself off the wall and starts making a hasty exit to the bathroom, head down and eyes trained on the linoleum. 

Then- 

“Hey, Peter- Wait, Pete what’s wrong, what happened?”

Shuddering, barely able to contain the sob that threatens to rip its way out, Peter ignores Tony, just pushes past him and doesn’t stop moving until he’s locked in the private restroom. 

With his back to the door, Peter slides down til his butt’s on the cold ground, arms wrapped around his knees as he tries to muffle his cries as he sits there, shaking.

He just wants it to stop.

***

Something’s up with Peter, and Tony has a sinking feeling that it’s got something to do with him. But he doesn’t know what he possibly could have done. 

They’d had such a nice time celebrating his birthday. He even had a new photo in his wallet, a polaroid of him and Peter cheesing goofily into the camera. Looking at it brings a smile to his face. 

He really does love his little brother. Though he was young, Tony can remember life before Richard and Peter came into their lives. He remembers being an only child as lonely hours spent trying to entertain himself while his mom was busy working, trying to support him as a single parent. He’d been ecstatic upon meeting Richard and finding out that he had a little boy, too, that he was going to get a brother. 

Tony knows that he and Peter haven’t been spending as much time together as they usually do, but he just chalked it up to it being his senior year. He wanted to spend the time with his friends, with his girlfriend, making the best of their last bit of time together before everything changes. 

Peter’s words from his birthday ring in his head. I don’t want you to...forget me. Maybe he’s feeling left behind? 

He’s only got a little over a week left until graduation, and then a week after that he leaves for MIT. That’s not much time at all.

The teen resolves to make some more time in his schedule to spend with his younger brother. Rhodey and the guys and Pep can deal for a couple days. 

***

Peter’s pulled out of the clusterfuck of ruminative thoughts that have kept him awake for the past week by the squeak of his bedroom door being opened. He blinks under the covers, instinctively curling in on himself. He’s been under here for hours, but he still feels so cold.

Tony’s voice comes through the small crack he’s created between the door and the jamb, one eye peeking inside. “Peter? Are you….” He pauses and clears his throat before continuing softly, “Are you okay?” 

The lump under the covers that is Peter shifts a little. His voice is dull and monotone when he replies, as apathetic as he can muster. “...Just leave me alone, Tony.” So much for that. Even saying his brother’s name hurts, a lot more than he thought it would, making his voice crack pathetically. Peter pulls his hands up to his chest and tries to quell the sudden surge of emotion that rushes through him, stifling a whimper. Please just go away. 

Of course, instead of listening for once in his fucking life, Tony opens the door further so that he can slip inside. It closes behind him with a soft click and he takes a tentative step towards the queen bed that’s pushed up against the walls in the corner of the dark bedroom. "Pete…" Peter can hear him softly pad over to the nightstand and flick on the small lamp sitting there. His breathing in the quiet room is near deafening to Peter. “I…” He hovers there for a minute before sighing and sitting at the foot of the bed. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. So that I can… I just want to help, Pete.”

The silence stretches on uncomfortably between them and even under the covers, Peter can feel the worried gaze burning him alive. 

His skin is crawling with how badly he wants to crawl out of the covers and into Tony’s lap, the way he would when they were younger and he was upset. He needs to get Tony out of here. He can’t- 

Peter moves so that his head is exposed, but he looks down at the bed rather than the other teen. "No, it’s fine. I mean I-, I’m fine," Peter sniffles, blinking furiously in an attempt to will the tears away. Fuck. His- fuck, his throat is tight, he can't swallow. His mouth falls open, a shuddering breath escaping as the muscles in his throat spasm. "I get it, Tony. I promise I get it, I really do. I do. She's-" 

Fuck. He must really be exhausted, he wasn’t supposed to say that, wasn’t supposed to let on the truth of why he’s upset. Peter's eyes flit around like he's on speed, darting from one focal point to another without him truly seeing anything. His voice is hoarse, thin. It's as small as he feels. Miniscule. Insignificant. He’s gonna ruin everything but he can’t make himself stop. "I mean, I can’t- I can't compete with-" The words come to an abrupt halt, his mouth snapping shut. 

Tony nudges Peter’s foot with his knee. “What? Peter.” He bumps against Peter again until the younger boy looks up to make eye contact. 

That stupid fucking crease forms between his older brother's eyebrows. Peter wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Mostly he wants to scream. 

"Peter, what? Compete with who? Are you talking about Pepper? I know we haven’t been spending much time together, but I’m gonna fix that before I leave, I promise. I don’t want you to feel left behind, not at all but I still don’t get- What’s this got to do with -," Tony starts, placatingly. But there’s something in his eyes, in the barely there tremor in his voice- And Peter suddenly realizes that Tony knows, has to know at least a little bit. 

He swears his vision flashes red for a second. "It has everything to do with her," Peter all but shrieks, nails digging crescent-shaped welts into his palms. He feels overwhelmed, trapped. Like a hermit crab without its shell- vulnerable, horribly exposed. It comes out without his consent, and so does his fucking stutter. Fuck it all. "And I know- I know- I know I'm fucked up, Tony, I know it, but I love you, the way that you love h-huh-her.” 

He takes a shuddering breath, reeling from saying the words out loud for the first time. “I'm sss-suh-sick, and g-gross and you- I know I'm a fff-fuh-freak and nnn-now- now you’re gonna hate me!" Peter sobs, his entire body shaking as he works himself towards an anxiety attack, a panic attack, a heart attack, fucking something. “I can’t even fu-fu-fu-fucking talk-” There’s snot and tears running down his face, he’s upset himself so much he can’t get through a fucking sentence. He knows he’s making a fucking fool of himself. He’s so stupid, why did he ever think that anything could come from this. He just wants it all to stop, he wants Tony to leave so that he can figure out some way to fix this, to make it all go away-

Tony’s staring at him, mouth parted, dark eyes wide and concerned. "Baby, what- I could never hate you, babydoll." It’s like the nickname comes out instinctually, the sound of Peter’s stutter instantly taking him back to the way he would console Peter when they were much younger, pulling him into his arms and rocking him like his own little baby. 

He climbs on the bed and burrows into the nest of blankets and pillows that Peter has created, but he stays sitting up. His arms wrap around his baby brother and pull him up into his lap so that he’s close to his chest, in spite of the younger’s attempts to squirm away. “Calm down, Pete.” Tony presses his lips to Peter’s head when his cries only increase, frowning at how hot the skin of his forehead is. “You’ve gotta calm down,” he soothes. “C’mon, it’ll get better once you calm down, baby, you know that.” One of his hands glides up and down Peter’s heaving back. 

Gasping, Peter shakes his head. He buries his face in the space where Tony’s pec and arm meet, taking a shuddering breath through his mouth. He’s trying to calm down but it’s not working. “I’m so- I’m so ssss-sss-suh-sorry, Tuh-Tony!” He feels like he’s gonna pass out. Shifting a bit, he pulls his head back in an attempt to get some more air. They almost make eye contact but he hurriedly looks away. He’s ruined everything. Tony hasn’t reacted to his confession yet but Peter knows that it’s gonna be bad, it’s gonna be so bad when he does. 

What’s he got left to lose?

Peter can't help himself; he leans in. The tips of their noses brush, and he pauses there for a moment. He can hear Tony's sharp intake of breath through his own heaving as they finally lock eyes. The look in Tony's chocolate depths is- Peter doesn’t really know. Tony's never looked at him like this before, no one has.

“Tony,” he whispers shakily, breath catching in his throat before closing the distance between them. Time stands still for a moment before something breaks, the tension snapping like a rubberband pulled too tight. Their mouths meet and Peter immediately whines at the feeling of Tony’s lips on his, body instinctively arching up against his brother’s, too lost in it to feel embarrassed of how easy he is to get worked up. 

It’s...everything he ever dreamed of.

Tony’s hands move to cup his cheeks, and Peter’s own hands find their way into the other’s dark, wavy locks as their mouths move against each other. There’s a swipe of tongue across his bottom lip, timidly asking for entrance. The younger obliges immediately, letting the warm muscle slide into his mouth where it meets his own. It sends shivers down his spine and he keens when his tongue is sucked into the wet of Tony’s mouth. His dick begins to fill rapidly in his sweats, leaving him feeling lightheaded and a bit disoriented.

Peter’s never made out with anyone before, but this- 

He thinks he understands what all of the hype is about, now. 

They pull apart, both gasping for air. Tony moves his head slightly, taking heaving breaths that blow onto the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, and his entire body seizes. The elder brother pauses, eyes darkening, before he latches his mouth there and sucking, hard- Fuck, Peter swears he’s about to cum in his pants. 

“Tony.” The name is all but ripped from his throat, ragged and wanton and filthy sounding. He didn’t know he could feel this good. There’s precum steadily leaking from the slit at the tip of his cock, and though he can’t see it at the moment, he’s sure there’s a wet spot staining the crotch of his pants. 

More moist air on the sensitive skin of his neck, now slightly red from being rubbed by the stubble covering Tony’s chin. “Shit, Peter,” comes the eighteen year old’s wrecked gasp and his hips shift, nudging his own erection against Peter’s thigh. “Fuck, fuck.”

Peter feels like he’s losing his mind. “Tony, Tony lemme- Wanna touch you, please-,” he says, unable to put together a full sentence. The cock he’s been dreaming about for almost a year is within his reach and he doesn’t know how they got here, has no idea what’s going to happen after, but he’s so fucking close to getting what he’s wanted for so long but thought he could never have. His hands flutter restlessly near the front of his brother’s basketball shorts and the bulge that’s pressing insistently against the loose material. 

“Yeah,” Tony gasps, shifting Peter out of his lap so that he can lie down on the bed on his side and then he pulls Peter down with him, facing each other. “Me too, can I…,” he trails off, the fingers of his right hand running down Peter’s body from his shoulder down to the sharp point of his hip bone. 

All Peter can do is nod jerkily, already reaching to tug at the dark red fabric that’s wrapped around the older teen’s waist. He lets out a desperate, frustrated sound when they get caught, but Tony’s hands take over for him, so he pushes his own pants down to his knees instead. His dick hangs down heavily once it's free of its confines, and there’s a quiet thud as Tony’s slaps against the dark hairs smattered across his lower belly. 

Looking at his big brother’s cock for the first time in the dim lighting makes Peter’s mouth water. He can make out the slight shadow of a vein running the length of it, and his tip is big, a drop of precum sitting there just waiting for him to lick at it. He’s bigger than Peter, in both length and girth. It’s perfect, something right out of his fantasies. 

Tony rocks his hips forward and their erections rub against each other, prompting them to let out synchronous groans. “Holy shit,” Peter whines, his own hips stuttering as they start to rut against each other in earnest. They quickly get into a slightly stumbling rhythm. It feels so good, their cocks both so hot, so hard. He already knows this is going to be over before it really even starts but he couldn’t care less. “Tony, Tony, yes-”

The brunette all but growls. “That’s it, Petey. Fuck, your cock feels so good, I never- Shit,” Tony pants before spitting into his palm and wrapping his hand around both of their shafts. “Fucking hell-” His toes twitch against the inside of Peter’s ankle. “Pete-”

Peter’s movements get jerkier, his hips stuttering at the feeling of Tony’s wet hand, the way their dicks are sliding against one another. He’s so close, so fucking close. “Please,” he whimpers, fingers digging to Tony’s shoulders where he’s holding on in an attempt to ground himself. HIs tongue licks at his brother’s bottom lip. “Wanna cum, Tony, lemme cum-”

“Yeah, fuck, yes Peter, cum, cum for me-” Tony groans, the speed of his stroking increasing. The rhythm is jerky, and it’s so uncoordinated when combined with their frantic undulating, but it feels amazing. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Peter chants as his orgasm slams into him like a brick wall. His muscles lock up, and there are probably crescent-shaped welts in the skin of Tony’s shoulders and back. Thick, white ropes of cum shoot from his cock and make a mess in his brother’s hand. A whine escapes him as he grows more sensitive in Tony’s grasp. 

The feeling of the warm liquid smearing over his erection is what does the older teen in. He crushes his mouth to Peter’s as he cums, fucking into his fist and rubbing against the other’s softening cock, licking lewdly into the wet of his mouth. “Pete,” he sighs, pulling away after he’s ridden out the wave of his orgasm. 

“I love you,” Peter whispers contently, snuggling in and pressing a kiss to a freckle on Tony’s shoulder. This is everything he’s ever wanted, to be held in his big brother’s arms like this: like a lover. Maybe he was worried for nothing, maybe everything will be okay. Sure, they’ll have to hide it from everyone, especially Mom & Dad, but once they’re both in college… They have different last names, no one would ever have to know. They could be happy. Peter just wants to be happy, just wants this feeling to stay. 

Tony shifts slightly and takes a deep breath, the puff of air ruffling Peter’s sweat-slick auburn curls. “Pete,” he says again, softly. “I love you too, I do.” He pauses, pulling back slightly and loosening his hold on the younger boy and rolling onto his back so that they’re both looking up at the ceiling. “But I-”

Peter freezes, the afterglow fading instantly. His heartbeat picks up, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. He grips the sweat damp comforter in his hands, fingers twitching restlessly, stroking back and forth over the fabric in an attempt to soothe himself. No. No, no no, this isn’t- Tony- He can’t-

Another heavy sigh. “We can’t- We can’t do this again, Pete,” Tony says into the quiet of the night, still slightly out of breath from exertion. His voice is soft, gentle. He’s trying not to hurt Peter; Peter thinks that’s bullshit.

There’s a lead weight in his stomach. He feels like he’s drowning. He feels like he’s gonna be sick. He feels dirty. He feels- 

He’s so tired of feeling.

Tony hesitates before pulling his shorts up and sliding out of the bed. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over Peter’s hand, jerks back when the younger immediately tenses and recoils from the touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before hastily making his way to the door, shutting it gently behind him. 

“Just go, Tony,” he croaks before rolling over in the bed, away from the love of his life his brother. 

Peter lays there for the rest of the night, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his face, seeing nothing. 

If only he could feel nothing, too.

*** 

“Where...where ya goin, Pete?” 

Peter is putting clothes in a small duffel bag. He makes a mental note to remember to grab a new thing of toothpaste when he gets his toiletry bag together. “I’m, uh, gonna go stay with Ned. For a few days.” More like a few weeks, but he doesn’t need to tell Tony that. 

It’s only been two days since they- 

Peter’s already had enough. He can’t be here, he can’t skirt around the elephant that is his feelings towards Tony, can’t handle the awkwardness in the air as his stupid fucking brother tries to go on as if nothing ever happened. As if it meant nothing to him. 

As if Peter meant nothing to him, means nothing to him.

Peter can...he can be okay with that. He has to be. But he can’t be here. He can’t.

“What about mom and da-” Tony cuts himself off, and Peter can tell that’s not what he is really trying to ask. Of course he’s so fucking disgusted, so fearful of someone else knowing, that he can’t even say it. No, what he really means is- 

“I didn’t tell them I kissed you, Tony,” Peter hisses, tears burning in his eyes. He yanks the zipper of his bag closed, biting back a scream when it gets stuck for a second. “I’m not stupid. Why would I tell them what we did? I don’t want them to hate me, too. Don’t worry about what I told them, they said I could go.” 

Maria and Richard are under the impression that Peter’s just stressed about his grades and going a little stir crazy. When they’d talked last night, Mom had frowned gently at him, mentioning how down he’d looked lately and letting him know that he was loved and cherished. Dad had actually been the one to suggest spending some time with Ned; maybe seeing his best friend would help pull Peter out of his funk.

If only they knew. 

Tony gapes at him, an incredulous look on his face. “But what about Tuesday? You’re gonna miss my graduation? For what, to fuck around with Ned? Peter-”

Something in him snaps. He clenches his jaw, swallows harshly. Glares tearily at his brother. “Would you please just stop it?” 

The taller boy sets his shoulders and crosses his arms, defiant. “I don’t want you to go.” His eyes are narrowed, searching Peter’s face. For what, the younger has no idea. Nor does he care. 

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Tony,” he yells, glad that Mom and Dad are out at the grocery store, getting supplies for Tony’s graduation party. His voice cracks on his brother’s name. Always on his name. “Not anymore. I don’t- I know you don’t- Do you know how much it hurts me? To- to hear you? To know, to have to listen to-”

Tony’s mouth opens, but no words come out. “Hear us? You- you heard us? When?” His eyes are wide. He must realize exactly what Peter’s talking about, when he’s talking about, and he looks uncomfortable, vulnerable in a way that Peter’s never seen him before. Something ugly deep inside the younger teen feels satisfied for a moment before it deflates. He’s left feeling just as drained as before. 

Tony continues, “Peter, I-” He cuts himself off, looks away. 

Of course he can’t even come up with something to say.

“For fuck’s sake, Tony, you don’t have to explain everything to me!” It comes out as a sob. Peter feels like he’s a volcano; the words are erupting and he can’t do anything but allow it, powerless to stop them. “Nothing you say will make it better! I know you’re straight! I know it’s- that it’s wrong. I know Pepper is-,” he chokes, gasping. Why is this happening? Everything is going so fast. How is he freezing and on fire at the same time? 

“She’s gorgeous and I’m just the path-th-thetic little br-brother who th-thinks you hung the moon.” Peter’s spluttering, flapping his hands at his sides as he tries to do something with the energy humming inside him. He wants out, he needs Tony to go so that he can finish packing. He has to get out of here. 

Tony takes a step towards him. “No, Peter, how could you-”

Peter’s sniffling, eyes squeezed shut. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, trembling. Why won’t Tony just leave him alone? He just wants to be alone. “I know I’m ugly and I- I bet you can’t w-w-wait to go to MIT, to go away from me!” 

“Babydoll,” is what leaves Tony’s mouth, so soft Peter almost doesn’t hear it. His hands are shaking as they land on his younger brother’s cheeks. Warm tears are gently brushed away by his thumbs. “Pete.” 

Brow furrowed, Peter slowly opens his eyes and blinks the tears back in order to look at his brother. Tony looks...scared? What does he have to be scared of? 

Peter tries to pull away, out of Tony’s grasp but the older teen just clutches him tighter. “Tony- What? It’s fine, j-just stop! Let me go, I need to finish-”

Tony closes his eyes and crashes their lips together.

don’t hate me 

@spidey-sins @silkystark @thegreenmetblue @snailshome @hp-nv-221b @lemondrop313  

if you wanna be untagged lmk 

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #starkercest #bloo writes bad things (tm)

[nathanknowsitall]

The Ugly Stark

Summary: Your dad, Tony Stark, finds you crying in the bathroom, wishing that you weren’t yourself, weren’t a Stark, and weren’t expected to be perfect.

Notes: Prompt from @lilacprincessofrecovery​ : “i loved your peter story! could you make a plus size reader daughter of tony stark whos insecure and wont tell her daddy? please and thank you!”. I don’t know if I answered the prompt that well, but I hope you enjoy! <3

You have always had the spotlight on you since you were born. 

As a Stark, you were always expected to be beautiful, smart, witty, charming, confident, and all-around perfect. But you weren’t.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t see anything beyond your rolls, stretch marks, and fat. 

You were dressed in a gorgeous ball gown that probably cost thousands of dollars and you couldn’t focus on anything but the way your body looked in it.

You had always been nervous about how you looked and the way you presented yourself, but this time seemed different as you started to tear up.

You had never told anyone about the way you sometimes felt being the only fat person in your family, never mind being the only fat person in your extended family that were the Avengers. 

You could never compare to them and deep down inside, you knew that no one would ever look at you and think that you were anything but ugly.

You could practically feel the makeup melt off your face and you tried your best to fix it as you went into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. 

You tried to level your breathing out while thinking, You’ve gone to events a million times, you’ve worn dresses like this a million times, why are you having this reaction now?

“Y/N?”, the unmistakable voice that was your father’s questioned as he knocked on the bathroom door.

You tried your best to keep your voice stable as you answered, “Hi Dad. What’s going on?”. 

“Are you almost ready? We have to leave in five minutes”, your dad answered. 

You shuddered as you looked in the mirror. You looked like a mess, with your makeup streaming down your face and your hair inexplicably looking messed up.

“Umm...is there any way to get a couple more-”, you choked on a sob, “minutes?”.

“Y/N...”, you could hear the urgency in his voice. “Why do you need more time? I’m sure you look great, honey.”

You took a deep breath before answering, “I just messed up my makeup a bit...”. 

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you began to full on sob, not being able to hold back your pitiful little noises. 

You felt way worse than before as your makeup seemed to get worse and worse and your self-esteem hit rock bottom. 

“Honey? Please let me in”, your dad demanded, no room for discussion in his voice. 

You bit your lip and took a deep breath in as you opened the bathroom door for him. 

His expression went from scared to sad as he took in your state. 

“What happened, Y/N?”, he asked softly. 

You sat yourself on the edge of the tub, not feeling strong enough to stand up. 

“I just-I just-I”, you let out a deep sigh. You could tell him this. 

“I feel horrible. I hate the way I look. I hate that I’m the only fat person in our family. I hate the fact that I’ll never be considered gorgeous or beautiful or pretty or cute or any of those things because I’m fat. I hate being the ugly Stark.”

You didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but you had finally said what you had thought in the back of your head for years. 

You felt your father’s eyes weigh heavily on your face as you avoided looking at him. He honestly had no clue that you felt this way about yourself. He had no clue that you thought you were “the ugly Stark.” It hurt him that his little girl would think such things about herself. 

“How long have you felt like this?”, Tony asked as he stared into the empty space in front of him. What he wanted to ask was, How long have I not noticed it?

You bit your lip, thinking it over before coming to a sad conclusion. 

“I think that I’ve always felt this way, but tonight? I think it just...I think I just couldn’t shut up that voice in my head that says to me, ‘You’ll never be pretty. Fat people don’t get to be pretty. Fat people are ugly. You’re ugly.’”

Tony’s eyes flooded with tears as he processed what you had said. 

He struggled to find the right words as he looked at his daughter. It’s honestly something he’d never thought twice about. His daughter was his daughter and it didn’t matter what she looked like to him. She would always be beautiful and pretty and gorgeous and all those adjectives to him no matter what she looked like.

“Y/N, I’ve never thought of you as anything but as my beautiful daughter-”.

You scoffed at him, causing him to make eye contact with you, as if to ask, Can you let me finish here? You quieted down and tried to take him seriously.

“Okay, I know that I’m not plus size so this may be meaningless to you, but you’re not ‘the ugly Stark’ or anything like that to anyone. The only person that I’d call ‘the ugly Stark’ is the person I was before I chose to be Iron Man”, he joked as you let out a little chuckle.

“But I just want you to know that fat people are beautiful. Fat people aren’t ugly because they’re fat. The only ugly people in the world are the ones that go out of their way to make others feel like shit for being different from them. Okay?”, he said.

You licked your lips as you processed what he said. You didn’t expect him to have such an insight. You didn’t even expect him to say the word “fat” because it sometimes felt like a bad word. But he did say these things to you. He did try and you did feel a little bit better. 

You knew that this would probably be something you needed to be reminded of, but for now, you let out a quiet, “Okay...but language!”, causing your dad to laugh as you laid your head on his shoulder. 

You felt a little less like “the ugly Stark” and more like “Y/N Stark” as you listened to your dad’s laughter echo around the bathroom.

#tony stark #y/n stark #plus size reader #fat reader #female reader #fat female reader #female plus size reader #tina #tina writes #peterspeachy #peterspeachy writes #tony stark blurb #insecure reader #tony stark fic

[rhodeys]

I wish you would write a fic where tony has accidentally turned into a child and Rhodey has to babysit him Thanks !!

thank you for the prompt! 💞💞

(i may have had too much fun with this) 

The thing is, Rhodey's used to being greeted by an empty penthouse every time he decides to check up on Tony. It's precisely the reason why the rest of the penthouse blend into the background while he makes his way to the private elevator that leads to Tony's workshop – the sectional sofa, the mezzanine, the staircase leading to the mezzanine, the kid, the–

Rhodey does a double take. 

There's a child in the penthouse - staring back at him like a baby deer caught in the headlights. The child blinks, just once, before brown eyes are back to being impossibly wide over the tiny hand perched upon the glass handrail. He's wearing a black t-shirt that's ten sizes too big for him, the edges of it ending at his knees. His feet are on two different stairs, almost like he'd been in the middle of making his way down before Rhodey conveniently barged in. The child doesn't even move a muscle. 

"Uh," is all Rhodey says, eyes flicking around the penthouse in sudden uncertainty before he turns to the boy. "Hey." 

The boy continues to stare at Rhodey for five odd seconds, making the older man feel oddly conscious. And then, finally, a careful: "Hi." 

"Hey," Rhodey says again, softer now. "Are you alone here?" He scans the empty penthouse once more. "Where are your parents?" 

"Why?" The boy is quick to ask, tone changing as his eyes narrow, and Rhodey's never seen a five-six-whatever-year old sound so defensive. "Where are yours?" 

Rhodey's taken aback, if only for a brief second, at the sudden shift in tone. Brown eyes are no longer wide, but slitted with something close to suspicion. "They're not–" Rhodey starts. Stops. "I'm sorry. Just–" He turns his head away, still maintaining wary eye contact with the boy, and calls out in the general direction of Tony's bedroom. "Tony?" 

"Yeah?" The boy asks. 

"No, not– that's my friend," Rhodey elaborates, making a vague motion with his hands to the space around them. "Have you seen anyone else around here?" 

"Is your friend's name Tony, too?" The boy asks, slowly continuing to make his way down the stairs, sharp eyes still fixated on Rhodey. 

"Yeah. He's–" Rhodey starts, and then something the boy had said registers. "Wait. Too? What's your name?" 

The boy finally takes the last step, and it's right then that Rhodey sees the familiar design of Black Sabbath printed across the oversized t-shirt. The sleeves were pulled up and knotted at awkward angles to prevent it from dangling down tiny arms. "Tony," the boy says. 

Rhodey's lips part in growing surprise as he takes in the messy waves of dark hair, matched with a pair of brown eyes that shine too bright, the layer of chub across a familiar bone structure, and the all too familiar expression of suspicion that Rhodey was once subjected to in MIT – one that, over the years, had eventually been hidden behind a perfected mask of cool. "Tony."

"Yeah," the boy says, making a face like Rhodey's being stupid. "S'what I just said."

---

"I mean," Rhodey clarifies, pinching the bridge of his nose after Pepper had calmly pointed out through the call that Tony's always been a child. "He's an actual kid. Physically. He's–" he cuts off as he shifts his attention to Tony, who's scowling from the other end of the sectional with tiny arms crossed over his chest. "Do you know how old you are?" 

"Course I do," Tony huffs out, eyes narrowing in offense. "I'm eight."

"Eight? Kinda short for an eight year old, aren't you?" Rhodey teases, and Tony's eyes narrow even further. The boy looks away just as his cheeks flush pink at the jab aimed at his stature. 

"Wait. Is that Tony?" Pepper's voice filters through the phone. "It doesn't sound like him."

"Gee, I wonder why eight year old Tony doesn't sound like fifty year old Tony."

"How are you even sure it's him? Did you ask Jarvis?" 

"Trust me, I'm sure," Rhodey says, deciding against bringing up when eight year old Tony had unashamedly called out 'who's the broad?' the second Pepper answered the phone, which ended with Rhodey fumbling to put the phone off of speaker. 

"And Jarvis isn't responding. He must have gone down when Tony did– well, whatever he did." Rhodey sneaks a quick glance at his watch. It's been almost an hour since he walked into this debacle. "He should be back up soon." 

"Okay," Pepper says after a heavy sigh. Her calm demeanor doesn't even surprise Rhodey – god knows the pair of them have been through enough and more of Tony's eccentricity. When it comes to Tony, this is just another day for them. "Jim, listen. I'm still in DC, but I'll be there in a few hours." There's distinct shuffling from her side. "Just– stay put. Read him a book. Put him to sleep."

"Put him to–" Rhodey cuts himself off before he can even consider the ridiculousness of the suggestion. "This is Tony."

"And you're his best friend. Which is why I'm sure you'll figure something out." And by thrusting her sheer level of confidence upon Rhodey, Pepper ends the call, leaving him staring helplessly at the phone in his hand. He looks over at Tony, who immediately looks away, defensive hands still folded across his chest in an act of petulance. 

Pepper had a point, Rhodey figures. Smaller Tony can't differ much from the real deal. He just has to make Tony talk; keep him occupied. Maybe play an R-rated movie– 

"Keep staring at me like that, 'm gonna think you're a pedophile."

"Jesus Christ."

---

They're not even ten minutes into watching Eraserhead before Tony decides it's too unrealistic, and therefore not worth his time. 

"What?" Rhodey asks, barely able to suppress the disbelief in his voice. Tony loved this movie – even watched it twice a month, every month, while they were in MIT. Sure, it had Rhodey worried for Tony's sanity at first, but he got around to movie nights soon enough. "You love this movie."

"Nope," Tony says, and that's that.

---

"Aren't you too old to be a babysitter?" Tony asks after spending a whole of five minutes scrutinizing Rhodey with a fairly impressive stink eye.

Rhodey huffs out a breathy laugh. "Tell that to the guy who put me here."

"Maybe I will," Tony says pointedly – sounding like he fully intended to file a formal complaint. "Where is he?"

"You're talking to him," Rhodey says, which shuts Tony up.

---

Rhodey's making a mental checklist of how else he can entertain eight year old Tony who hates Eraserhead – when Jarvis comes online.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rhodes," Jarvis greets, and Rhodey immediately shoots a silent prayer of gratitude to the AI. On the other side of the sectional, Tony's head jerks up in surprise from where he was fiddling with the StarkTab – eyes darting around for the voice. 

"I apologize for my inactivity. My servers may have been affected while Sir was testing the functions of…" Jarvis trails off, and there's a very telling silence that follows – Jarvis apparently having noticed Tony's absence and the kid's presence. Tony's still looking around for the source, and when his attempt turns futile, decides to zero in on Rhodey. 

"Mr. Rhodes," Jarvis starts, his words edging on hesitation. "Is that–" 

"Yep."

---

Tony takes it upon himself to find out the source of the voice. There's ten minutes of Tony opening and closing doors, crouching under tables, checking behind furniture five times his size, and because Tony - no matter the age – is still Tony, returns to where Rhodey's seated, newfound determination plastered across his face. "Who was that?"

"Who was who?" Rhodey asks, raising an innocent brow. 

"The guy who was just talking to you." 

"Don't see any guy here."

"I heard him."

"Heard who?" 

"The guy!" Tony blurts out hotly, throwing his arms out in frustration as his cheeks flush a shade of red. The movement makes the full sleeves of Tony's undershirt break from the knot Tony had made, resulting in them splaying out like loose wires before they end up dangling flimsily at his sides. Tony pays no mind, and Rhodey tries to pay no mind. 

"Which guy?" Rhodey asks, and he can barely contain his grin watching the way Tony puffs his chest, lips parting to make way for whatever childish blabber before they snap shut in annoyance. 

His face turns into a scowl as he brings his arms back across his chest, dangling sleeves and all. "Stop pulling my leg." 

"Whatever you say, kid."

"Not a kid."

"You're, like, five."

Tony looks like he's about to explode from frustration. "Eight!"

"Full fledged adult, then."

---

"You have a lot of grey hair," Tony speaks up all of a sudden, working on the offense this time. 

"You're short," Rhodey answers without missing a beat.

"But I'll grow," Tony says, grinning now, like he'd struck gold. "I'll be taller than you."

"Oh, yeah," Rhodey agrees for the sake of entertaining the kid, deciding against breaking his bubble as much as he'd like to. He adds an enthusiastic "definitely." 

Tony, self-proclaimed genius that he is, catches on to the intent. He looks almost giddy with excitement as he crawls over from his place on the sectional to where Rhodey's sitting. "You're jealous!" Tony exclaims, eyes shining in delight. "Aren't you? You're jealous that I'm gonna be taller than you!" 

"You got me, kid," Rhodey shrugs, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "What can I say? Life can be a– biscuit, sometimes."

"A bitch, you mean."

---

They go through the StarkPad together, not that Tony needed much help anyway, seeing as he already figured out most of how it works by himself. Rhodey gets his fair share of questions anyway, from why do people need such a big screen? to I can watch an entire movie in this?

"Ha, this makes you look even older!" is the first thing points out when Rhodey switches it to the front camera. 

"Yeah, yeah," Rhodey says smiling, and in a split second, contorts his face just as a grinning Tony holds up the tablet and takes a selfie of them. 

"This is so cool," Tony exclaims in barely contained excitement as he proceeds to take a dozen more pictures of himself, some of which Rhodey accidentally ends up in the background of. 

"Yeah, remember my friend Tony? He made it."

Tony perks up, suddenly more interested, and Rhodey thinks he's going to ask more about the StarkPad until– "Is he taller than you?" 

Rhodey snorts. "He wishes. Tony used to stuff paper balls into his shoes when we were in MIT. He wears heels now." 

"I know MIT! My dad studied there," Tony says, and Rhodey makes a surprised sound, like that wasn't news to him at all. Tony cocks his head, eyebrows knitting as if something just occurred to him. "Wait, how does he wear heels?" 

"He gets them custom made into his shoes."

A pause. Then: "And he's still shorter than you?" 

"Yep."

"That must suck balls."

"Yep."

---

"You never told me your name," Tony says out of the blue after spending a good few minutes drooling into Rhodey's shoulder while he was dead to the world.

"It's Jim."

Tony shifts, drawing his feet towards himself so he can curl into Rhodey's chest. "That's an old man's name," Tony points out softly. 

"Rhodey, then."

"How many names do you have?"

Honeybear, Platypus, Sourpatch– "A few."

"My name is Anthony," Tony says, voice softening even more, as if he'd pass out any moment now. "But nobody calls me that anymore."

"Thought you didn't like-"

"Because when they do, I kick 'em in the dick," Tony finishes, words coming out in soft mumble before he drifts back to sleep.

---

When Pepper walks into the penthouse an hour later and spots Tony snuggled against Rhodey's side, soaking his polo shirt wet with drool, she flashes him a triumphant smile. I told you so.

#tony stark #james rhodes #rhodey #ironhusbands #tonyrhodey #dhsjsjs what else do you tag #drabble #deaged tony #pavi writes #asks #pavi.txt #rhodeytony #missing-tony

[honeysparker]

two slow dancers | p.p

chapter 1: last ones out

summary: y/n stark has always hated peter parker but her hate is taken to a new level when she finds out he's the soul heir to her dad's legacy. sadly, its up to these two angsty teenagers to protect the world and they cant do that if they're fighting all the time.

or

y/n beats peter's ass and he likes it

enemies to lovers, slow burn

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

WARNINGS: mention of death, y/n is annoying so that's a warning...

(NOT MY GIF)

You couldn’t place the moment when you first realized syou hated Peter Parker.

Maybe it was when you saw your dad being more tender with him than he ever had been with you in your entire life. Maybe it was when he got invited on his first mission even though he had only been training for three months. Or maybe it was the way everyone seemed to like him, without him even having to try. Whenever it was, didn’t matter, because all you felt for him right now was unadulterated rage.

The Avengers was your dad’s team to lead. It was your dad’s idea in the first place and now he was the sole heir to everything concerning it. And now, as you sat across from your dad’s lawyer in his large Upper East Side office with Pepper lightly squeezing your hand, you couldn’t contain your rage. “What the fuck do you mean “it belongs to Peter Parker”?”

“Language,” Pepper sighed from her seat.

“It means any business regarding the Avengers and money set aside for them, belongs to Peter Parker.” Legal started. “This include the compound, the technology inside of it, and the rights to anything Mr. Stark was working on before his unfortunate passing.” He picked a piece of lint from the sleeve from his shirt and leaned back in his comically large chair, only infuriating you more.

“Isn’t he like a toddler? How is it legal to even give him that much money or power?” You snarled, ripping your hand from Pepper’s to throw up in the air. You knew you got worked up way too quickly, and you were aware how silly you looked flailing your arms around in anger, but sometimes you couldn’t contain yourself. Your dad’s legacy was being handed to an overgrown pre-teen who cuts his own hair and you couldn’t do anything about it. You might have been next in line to be the CEO of Stark Industries, but the Avengers always had a soft spot in your heart and now that was being ripped away from you from none other than Peter Parker.

The first time you met him you were glassy-eyed and naive and wanted nothing more than your dad’s acceptance, so you tried. You tried hard to like him and to not clench your fists every-time he got a pat on the back from your father. You tried to laugh at his corny jokes and boyish charm and not feel the urge to rip his eyes from his sockets every time you caught your dad looking at him a little too lovingly. You tried hard not to curse him for the fact that you weren’t a boy or that you were never quite enough for your dad, but you couldn’t. Every time you saw him you saw everything you weren’t and it took just too much effort to pretend that it didn’t bother you.

So you did everything in your power to avoid him. You trained on days you knew he had robotics, ducked behind counters, and ran into random rooms whenever you heard his voice, just so you didn’t have to be an absolute asshole to him, but it never worked out quite that well. Whenever you heard his sweet innocent voice mumble a “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” you couldn’t help but reveal yourself just to mock him, or poke fun at how starry-eyed he looked when he was admiring your father. You and him were a recipe for disaster and it upset your dad, so you couldn’t help but try for his sake but he wasn’t here and you had just one more reason than ever to let out your rage against Peter Parker.

“You’re right, however, the minute he turns eighteen, it’s all his.” Legal leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, a look of almost pity on his face and you could tell he was trying to make you feel better. “Your dad wrote it in his will, so it’s legally Mr. Parker’s, but if Mr. Parker wanted to hand it over to you when he turned eighteen, then it could be all yours. For now, the team will be led by no other than Steve Rogers and on the day of Mr. Parker’s eighteenth birthday, we will meet in order to hand it off to him.”

You could feel your eyes swelling and your chest getting heavier as you sat there and listened to his words but you stayed glued to your seat. You never thought it would come to this, you sitting in some lawyers office on the verge of tears while your inheritance was being handed off to some pretty boy from Queens. You’ve had your moments with your dad before where you felt like just punching him straight in the face, but this was different. You wanted to hate him but he was dead and that would do no one any good. And more than anything, you wished he was here, so you could yell at him or attempt to hurt him in any way but he wasn’t, and you couldn’t, and just the thought of it made you feel more guilty than you ever imagined. Your dad had sacrificed his life for the entirety of the world and you were sat here upset about his will and you never felt more like a spoiled brat in your life.

But this wasn’t about money. This was about the fact that if you wanted to stay in touch with the Avengers or go on missions, you would have to do so through Peter. This was your dad’s sick way of linking you to Peter for the rest of your life and you hated it. Peter wasn’t family, he was barely a friend and now your dad’s legacy rested in his lanky, fragile hands. The worst part was that you knew Peter didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t lived long enough to disappoint your dad or see the face he makes when you really upset him, or endure the insane amount of pressure that was put on you the minute you turned ten. He didn’t have to deal with half the shit that came with being a Stark and yet a huge part of that legacy was given to him with not even half the work done on his part.

What hurts the most is your dad not even trusting you enough to lead the Avengers. If you had any suspicion that he didn’t believe in you before, they were all confirmed now and you could feel it chipping away at your self-esteem. There was something about Tony Stark that made you want him to love you. Maybe it was his unearned confidence, or how he practically moved through every room like he was the one who owned it (in most cases he was), but whatever the reason, you weren’t immune to it. You wanted him to love you as much as he loved his suit, or the Avengers, or Peter, really anything he took his time with, but he didn’t. You didn’t get the loving side of Tony Stark, you got the cold, unforgiving, and expecting side of Tony Stark and it killed you. Everytime you got knocked down in a fight or a bad grade on your test it killed you knowing you would have to defend yourself to your dad. Yet here you were again, defending yourself to him from beyond the grave.

You inhaled a shaky breath, standing up quickly and grabbing your bag that was loosely thrown over the side of the chair. “Thank you, Legal. If I have any more questions, I guess I’ll contact you.” You tried to make your voice sound as firm as possible, but you knew you didn’t have the confidence you came in there with, so all you did was turn on your heel and make a beeline for the exit, hoping Pepper would get the hint and follow.

You practically fell into the hallway but quickly gathered yourself as you began to stare up at the glimmering ceiling. Legal’s hallway was beautiful and littered with ivory columns and paintings that looked like Van Gough painted them himself. If you stare long enough at one you could see the places where the paint gathered together at one spot and didn’t quite blend in with the other colors or where little parts of the paintbrush hair got lost in the painting. They were beautiful and raw and for a moment took you out of whatever episode you were having. Your hand reached out to touch one, slowly and unsure, before a voice broke you out of your trance. “Y/N,” Pepper put a soft hand on your shoulder. “you ready?”

You nodded gently, both of your heels clicking on the marble floor as you left the building as your heart sat firmly in your throat. What you liked about Pepper was that she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t ask about your biological mom, she didn’t ask how you felt about your dad’s passing, and she didn’t ask you how you were feeling at the moment. She knew. She knew how you felt about most things and did her best to be there for you in ways she knew you would receive well. She invited you to watch a movie with her every night and would buy you your favorite candy if she knew you were feeling particularly worse that day. She allowed you to sit close to her and share the fluffy blanket that you both adored so much, and just recently you two started watching Gilmore Girls together. But what you liked most about Pepper is that she stood up for you in a way a mom would. She would kiss your cuts and bruises after a particularly long fight and scold Tony for yelling at you in the way that he did. She would sit by you when you cried, not saying a word or touching you too much because she knew you didn’t like that all that much. She made your lunch and bought cooking classes for the two of you so you could make dinner together. Overall, Pepper was perfect and she was always there for you in the way she was now.

That night Morgan came waddling into your room with her stuffed pig in her little arms and you couldn’t help but smile. She reached out for you with her free arm and you helped her into your bed, cuddling up to her and pushing wet strands of hair from her face. She was entirely too young to have to go through what she went through, but you were happy that her last memories of your dad were good ones. You might not have been around to see the way your dad was with Morgan, but Pepper told you all about it and got teary-eyed every time. You also couldn’t bring yourself to be jealous of the love she received from your father because she was truly every good thing about him in the tiniest body. You may have both lost him, but you both gained a new pathway towards him and that was probably why she was in your bed every night. Sometimes you wonder if she’s sleeping with you to make you feel better or if you’re sleeping with her to make her feel better. Regardless, every night you and her share your king bed and somehow still end up tangled in each other.

The one and only thing, however, that annoyed you about Morgan, was her undying love for Peter. Since you came back, she wouldn’t stop asking for him, and that was after meeting him one time. At breakfast it would be “Where’s Peter?” and at dinner it would be “Is Peter joining us?” and the answer would always be, “He’s not coming, Morgan, stop.” Which she would reply to with a pout or just a loud cry and it was getting on your nerves. It was yet another Stark that Peter had won over and you were absolutely on the verge of losing it, and the last person you wanted to snap at, was your little sister who still believed everyone was good. She still had a good and innocent heart and you owe that to the version of your dad she got, and you couldn’t help but think that if maybe you got that version, you wouldn’t be as messed up as you are.

Tonight, however, she was extremely cuddly and you wondered if she could tell that you had a bad day. As Tangled played in the background, you could sense her giant eyes looking up at you, so you turned to look at her and she gave you a soft smile that told you that everything was alright. So you placed a gentle kiss on her nose and avoided her giggles as you pulled her closer to your side.

“I don’t like you sad,” She mumbled, her little breath getting more faint as she grew tired. “Daddy didn’t like you sad either, he said he was sorry.” She never talked about your father and you assumed it was because the wound was still fresh but now she was telling you that your dad felt some type of remorse and you didn’t know how you felt about that. So you pushed her hair back and attempted to fall back asleep in hopes that you could forget that she said that all together.

The next morning you woke up with Morgan’s entire body on top of yours and your neck in immense pain. It was your first day of school and although you were done with your education in general, your instincts were not about to allow you to be late to your first day of senior year. You really dreaded going to school now, especially since you knew you would see Peter and the last time you saw him practically attacked him. Well, you did attack him, and had to be pulled off by Steve who had a hard time matching your strength. You really didn’t know how you would react to seeing him, especially after the meeting yesterday, but there are some things you can’t escape, and the hardships of high school are one of them.

When you got to school you could tell that your dad was probably laughing at you from heaven above because the very first thing that happened to you was Peter Parker’s solid but firm body ramming into you at full speed and nearly knocking the life out of you. He landed on top of you and you struggled from underneath him to push him off, trying to gather your things as you stood.

“Y-Y/N, I am so so sorry.” He shook, avoiding eye contact and moving to pick up the rest of your papers from the ground. You wanted to smile because it was you who made him that scared, but you were also pissed because not only did he take your inheritance, but he also knocked the living shit out of you within the first minute of the first day of school and you knew you would bruise. You were shorter than him but somehow he looked so small as he stood in front of you. He was more tan than when you saw him earlier in the summer and his hair was longer but more curly. He still had that panic in his eyes that he always had when he saw you but he was more confident in himself. You could tell by the way he stood up straight and reluctantly met your eyes. He almost offered you a small smile, but stopped himself when he realized that you wouldn’t receive that quite well.

“Watch where you’re going, Parker.” You practically spit at him, your eyes never leaving his. “You made me drop all my shit and I’ll be damned if I lose another thing because of you.” You grabbed your book out of his hands and held it close to your chest as you watched his mouth fall open at your statement.

“W-what does that mean?” He questioned with a hint of sadness behind his eyes and something else you couldn’t just place. “Cause i-it’s not my fault o-or wasn’-”

“Save it, Parker.” you cut him off and you knew you were maybe being too harsh because it wasn’t his fault your dad handed so much to him, but that couldn’t stop your words from being laced with venom. “You’ve done enough, and I am sick of you ruining my life.” You turned and left because you said what you needed to and didn’t feel the need to explain yourself to your dead dad’s ex lap dog and you weren’t about to start hearing him out.

But you felt bad, you really did, as you turned to get one more glance of the sad boy standing stunned in the hallway. He looked as if he saw a ghost and any confidence he had, was surely drained after your tiny altercation with him. You watched as he picked up the rest of the stuff that was his and made his exit through the front door of the school, and even you knew you had to make this right.

authors note: hi! omg my first chapter!!! i hope you like it and can give me feedback even if u hated the shit out of it like let me know u hated it idc,,, love peter but i need this enemies to lovers slow burn i know they deserve so stick it out with me and Maybe i don't know be my mutual!!

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman imagine #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker series #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter x stark!reader #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #peter parker fan fic #tom holland fan fic #marvel imagine

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 25

No Lies

Prompt: Makeup

Word Count: 4803

Summary: Peter’s secret, shameful little fantasy— well, it isn’t any worse than Tony’s.

If Peter wants to make him cry, Tony will be more than happy to oblige.

(humiliation, crying, self loathing, slut shaming, emotional sadism, aftercare, Peter’s trying out new things)

*

Peter tells him about it in a hushed little whisper, a confession, curled up in Tony’s arms. Doesn’t look away from Tony’s chest, like he’s ashamed, soft and stuttering.

“It’s almost more like a picture in my head than a whole action?” Peter says. “This one image: MJ looking up at me, crying, and it’s made her makeup go all messy, smudged purple and grey around her eyes like a bruise and her lipstick smeared, these dark lines down her cheek.” He shivers. “And I know— I know she’s crying because I’ve done something to hurt her, because I’ve said some awful things, really mean, untrue things. I know it and I don’t feel bad about, I feel really, uh. Really turned on.” 

He tucks himself a little closer, resting his forehead against Tony’s chest. “Sometimes,” he says in a tiny voice, muffled, “that’s it, that’s enough that I come. But not always, and the rest of it— I just. She doesn’t say no or fight, but she doesn’t like it and I do stuff anyway. I don’t— I don’t know why I think those things. What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, no,” Tony says, tipping Peter’s chin back. “Nothing’s wrong with you, baby. You’re not bad or weird or anything wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt her!” Peter says. “I don’t even like the thought of it any other time, and it’d be awful if she cried. It doesn’t even make any sense anyway, MJ barely ever wears any makeup, especially not like that.”

“It’s not about reality, that sort of thing,” Tony tells him. “Fantasies just throw things together sometimes, stuff you didn’t think would be appealing. Anything can be hot, to someone.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Peter says. “I never would, I know she’d look at me like— I’m never going to tell her, especially not now, but I did ask her once if she’d wear some makeup for sex? I thought— maybe it was just the messiness?” He bites his lip. “She didn’t want to, and I couldn’t really explain why, so we just… didn’t. It felt bad. I kinda wish I hadn’t told you.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me. It doesn’t tend to end well, keeping those bottled up and hidden,” Tony says. “You know I like some strange stuff.”

“It’s not the same,” Peter mutters.

“It is,” Tony says, kissing Peter’s forehead. They stay curled up like that, Peter still tense under Tony’s hands. “Is— is it MJ specific?” Tony asks, carefully.

“What?”

“Do you only ever have that sort of fantasy about MJ?” Tony tries. “Or is the fact that it’s MJ what makes it hot?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Peter says. “I’ve kinda had stuff like it before I was interested in MJ, so. It’s not just her.” He’s quiet while Tony thinks. “Does that make it better or worse?” and he’s gotten all quiet and miserable sounding again. 

“Neither,” Tony says, firmly. “It just makes it easier.”

*

When Tony’s gotten everything together—when he’s thought it through, as much as he can, planned things out—he sits Peter down.

“I have… a surprise for you,” he tells Peter. “Hopefully something you’ll like. Maybe not, maybe it won’t work at all, but then again if it does—”

“Tony,” Peter says. “Go back, you’re pulling a me.” Tony snorts. 

Dumps the bag next to him on the bed between them, makeup tumbling out.  

Peter stares at it. “What—” he says, and then seems to lose his words. He touches one of the tubes of lipstick with the tip of his finger.

“It won’t bite,” Tony says, which gets him a glare. “So, you said this wasn’t MJ specific, right?”

“It— what?” Peter says. “Are you— you’d wear it? For me? For this crazy thing? Seriously, that’s not— uh.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn it,” Tony says. “What?” he adds when Peter frowns at him. “It was the eighties, okay? Everyone was doing it. It’s more that I don’t know if it will work for you if it’s me.”

“It would work,” Peter says, dazedly, which is a great sign. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I can’t— how would I even make you cry, I don’t want to say those things to you! Even if they didn’t work on you, cause why would they? You’re all—” and he waves his hands, like that’s supposed to mean something.

“All that?” Tony says, grinning.

“Ugh, I mean, all put together and confident and stuff,” Peter says, and he should know by now how much of that is surface level. 

“You could make me cry,” Tony tells him. “Wouldn’t even have to be that mean, just hit certain spots the right way. And it helps if I’m sort of… in the right mindset. It’s—” Okay, he hasn’t brought this up with Peter yet, because Peter hasn’t really shown much interest in this sort of thing aside from this one little fantasy. 

“I don’t mind being treated like that,” Tony says. “Under the right circumstances, I can even, well. Like it. Or, not like it, but enjoy it. Get off to it, at least.” Peter’s staring at him, wide eyed. “You’re not the only freak here,” Tony says.

“You’re not a freak,” Peter says immediately. “But— really? You could? You do?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “I can tell you what would work best for the… intended effect, on me. And if that isn’t working, you can always get some tears out of me with a good face fucking.”

Peter blushes, but Tony knows he would like that. Both of them would. 

“We won’t mess around with any sort of consent stuff, okay?” Tony says. “If I say stop or no or anything like that, you can be sure it means exactly that. I don’t want you worrying about that for this. Not this time.” Peter nods, because they’ve talked about this, vaguely, before. 

“Just—” Tony hesitates, because this is the only part he’s not sure of. He doesn’t want to freak Peter out. “If it works really well, I might take a while to stop, even after you have? I can get… overwrought. Get so caught up it’s not easy to snap out of it and stop feeling like that. Do you understand that?”

“I think so,” Peter says. “I need to be patient?”

“Yeah, but as much— don’t freak out and start thinking you’ve done something wrong, or broken me. All I need is time and something to cling to and it’ll pass.” 

“Okay,” Peter says. “I think I can do that.” 

Tony gestures at the makeup spread out between them. “Then why don’t you pick out a few things.” 

*

Peter just stares when Tony comes out of the bathroom. 

Stares and stares and stares, completely frozen. “I know I look good,” Tony says, “but come on kid, don’t you want to do something about it?”

“I— oh my god, Tony,” Peter says, almost a whisper, shocked. “You— you look really—”

Tony walks up to him while he’s still stammering his way through that; kisses him on the cheek, leaving a perfect red lip print. “I look really what?”

Peter swallows. “Really hot,” he says, finally. “You look really, really hot. Way better than I imagined.” 

“So it’s working for you?”

“Yes,” Peter says, nodding. “So working.” 

“Okay, baby,” Tony tells him, “you know what you want, and you know what I will take.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asks yet again. “Completely sure?”

“Completely sure,” Tony says, and sinks down on his knees. “Make me cry.”

“Oh god,” Peter whispers. He touches Tony’s face gently, his fingers trailing over his cheeks, the faint blush tinting them; across his eyelids, the dark purple black smokey eye Tony spent longer than he should have on; slowly catching his lips, dragging the bottom one down, the cheap dark red probably already smearing.

Peter kisses him, a soft touch. Pulls back and makes a face. “Ick,” he says. “Tastes gross.”

Tony mock pouts, a little teasing. “You don’t like it?”

There’s a hesitation, Peter’s hand coming back to press against Tony’s lips. “No,” he says, and it’s still a lot uncertain, worried. “I— I don’t. It makes you look like a joke. Like a— a freak.”

It’s amazing how hard that hits Tony, even though he expected every word. Even though he knows Peter doesn’t mean a syllable of it. He still feels his face heat, and the smile drops off his face. “It does?” he says.

Peter’s hand is still on his face; he’s tense, nervous, and his grip is a little too tight. “It makes you look like a whore,” he says, looking almost shocked at himself for saying it. He presses his thumb hard against Tony’s lips, rubbing it over them. “A cheap one,” Peter says. “The kind that you don’t even have to pay because they’d do it all for free. You’d— you’d do it all free, every single gross, filthy, obscene thing I could think of. Wouldn’t you?”

It’s as much the dull pain of Peter’s hand as the words that make Tony’s eyes sting, the corners a little wet. But the words— “I would,” Tony says, quietly, staring up at Peter. 

“You’re a slut,” Peter says, and Tony shudders. Peter jolts, pulling his hand from Tony’s chin and looking down at him, trying to figure it out. It was a good shudder, as good as it could be from being called a name like that, but Peter probably doesn’t quite believe it even though Tony told him. “It’s disgusting,” Peter says, carefully, watching him.

And a moment later, soft and startled; “Oh.” 

Peter tips Tony’s head back and looks down his body instead. “You’re hard,” he says. “You— you really do like this,” and it’s still soft, surprised. “You like me calling you a slut,” he says.

Tony drops his eyes, feeling that first flutter of shame in his stomach. “Oh,” Peter says again. “You like it,” and it’s sharp this time, twisted into something unkind, in a way he wasn’t sure Peter could do.

“Peter,” Tony whispers.

“That’s— you’re disgusting,” Peter says. “You know that, right? Under everything, you’re just a nasty whore.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his chest tight, his cock twitching. Holy shit, he didn’t think Peter really had it in him. 

He doesn’t look up, but Peter’s hand is on his face, forcing him to. “Say it,” Peter says, a little softer. “Tell me that you know it’s true.” He rubs his thumb over Tony’s lips, onto his cheek; Tony can feel the lipstick smearing, the stiff tackiness of it on his skin. 

“I know it,” Tony says. “I know I’m just— just a whore,” and there’s some truth to it, under everything. All he has, is, has been for sale at one point or another. That sick feeling spreads, grows.

Peter’s silent for a moment, spreading the lipstick further. “It’s the only reason anyone wants you,” he says, distantly, cool. “You’re only good for sex, aren’t you.”

It hits, hard, and even though Tony told Peter to say it like that, to tell him no one wanted him, it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels that shame rise, squirmy. “I’m good at other things,” he whispers.

“Are you really?” Peter says. “Are you good enough at any of those things for people to want you?” and the answer is no, Tony knows it’s no. He holds his breath, fighting back the start of tears. “Maybe they want your money,” Peter adds, “or your name, or the things you make for them, but you’re useless for anything else. They don’t want you. I mean, look at you,” so sharp and disappointed that it does it, it sends Tony hurtling into that awful sick feeling, feeling it close around him. 

“Oh,” Peter says, and then both his hands are on Tony’s face, cupping his cheeks. Brushing at the first tears slipping down his cheeks, probably not enough to make anything run yet. “Look at you,” softer but still mocking. “Look at how easily you cry, over just a few words. Just a little name calling. Just because no one wants you.”

They come faster, because Tony knows there’s some truth to it. No one wants him, wants whatever is hiding behind the Tony Stark™ that he wraps around himself every day, just like the Iron Man armor. 

“No one wants you,” Peter says. “Look at me!” Tony opens his eyes, tears sticking his eyelashes together, melting the mascara. “No one wants you,” Peter repeats, looking straight at him, into him, laid bare. “If you could see yourself, you’d know it’s true. Who would want that?”

“No one’s going to love you,” he adds, thumbs rubbing over Tony’s cheeks, coming away with pale shimmer on them. ‘Everyone knows you don’t deserve it. Look at all the things you’ve done— who could ever forgive you for that?” 

Tony moans, his eyes closing again, and god, he is sick, isn’t he, that this has him wanting to curl up and sob, has him wanting to grab his cock and get off right this second. “Please,” he gasps.

“Please what?” Peter says. “Please want you? Love you? Forgive you? Why should I?” Tony shakes his head, frantically, and reaches for his cock. “Oh, I see,” Peter says. “Please let you touch yourself, like the sick freak you are for getting off on this? Uh, no. Ew. You’re pathetic.”

“Peter,” Tony says, “baby, I—”

Peter leans down, his face close to Tony’s and Tony stares at him, blurred with tears. “You are pathetic,” he says. “Just a sad old man that’s desperate enough to hit on a teenager, like some sort of creep. Hoping that maybe I’d be stupid enough to love you when no one else would.”

God, it’s true; it’s everything he’s denied when it’s an accusation thrown at him, but like this? The simple fact of it stated so simply? “You’re right,” Tony says, “you’re right, you are, I’m pathetic.”

“That’s right,” Peter agrees, sounding almost breathless. He brushes the backs of his fingers under Tony’s eye, pulls them away with black smeared across them. “What a mess you are. Finally the outside matches the inside.” 

“Peter, Peter please,” Tony whispers. “I’m good at something, you said I’m good at something, let me do that for you.”

“I don’t know if I want something as disgusting as you anywhere near me,” Peter says, and Tony could almost believe it. Almost does, because that’s a thought that runs this his head every day; how could Peter want this for real?

“Please, let me try,” Tony says. “Let me, I want— I’m not good for anything else, you said it. Use me for what I can do, anything I can do.”

Peter shoves his leg between Tony’s knees, his shin bumping into Tony’s cock. Tony jerks at the touch, gasps. “If you like it so much,” Peter says, “then you should find it easy to rub off on me like this, like some sort of mindless animal.”

“Oh god,” Tony manages, and Peter’s hand is in his hair, tugging back his head. Peter’s cock is at his mouth, against his lips and sliding in so easily when Tony parts them. Finally, he thinks, finally, he can show Peter he’s good at something, he’s worth keeping around. 

Peter thrusts into his mouth, a few short strokes, and then shoves Tony down on it as far as he can. 

Tony chokes almost instantly, gagging hard around the width of him, eyes tearing up even more. Gasps wetly when Peter withdraws, and then moans and gags again a second later. Peter’s not giving him a chance to adjust, to relax enough for this to be easy, just keeps fucking deep into Tony’s throat and waiting for him to gag before he stops holding him in place. 

“Is this what you call good?” Peter says. He holds Tony on his cock longer that time, long enough Tony starts fighting it, choking and gagging so hard he’s afraid he might throw up. Lets Tony go, finally, Tony jerking back hard enough he almost goes over. “Is it?” Peter asks. “Because it seemed more like you were too busy rubbing off on me to focus on the more important part of this.” 

Shit, he had, at least somewhat, without even realizing it; Peter’s leg is wet with precome.

“So you’re not even good at that,” Peter says. “There really isn’t anything you have to offer,” and he pulls his cock all the way out of Tony’s mouth, stroking it. 

“Please,” Tony says, “I can do better, I can, please let me.”

“Beg harder,” Peter says.

Tony does, he tries, watching Peter jerk himself off as Tony begs to be able to suck him again, to offer him anything; tells Peter he could fuck Tony, could use him, could hurt him, anything at all. 

“The only thing you’re good for is looking at,” Peter says, “shit, Tony— I’m— oh,” and he’s coming, Tony jerking and closing his eyes as it hits his face, hot and thick over the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks, on his eyelashes. 

“Oh my god,” Peter says after a moment, a sharp slide from the tone he's been using. “Uh— fuck. You— finish off, finish getting off on me like that. I want to see you come looking all messed up, come just from rubbing off; I thought I was the horny teenager here, but you’re a slut.”

It’s not hard, it’s not hard at all to rut against Peter’s leg and come as fast as he can, not if he thinks about how Peter must be looking at him, at what he must be seeing, everything smeared and running and come on Tony’s face and tears— and Peter had said he was good for looking at, had said that and now he was looking, christ. 

He jerks, folding forward as he comes hard enough for his head to smack into Peter’s hip, getting his mess all over Peter. Peter pushes his head back, ignoring the way Tony’s still shivering, hips moving. “I want to see you,” he says, catching Tony’s neck, holding him there. Tony shivers, a sharp spike through his head at it; he doesn’t want, doesn’t like Peter’s hand there, doesn’t— 

Peter’s hand shifts, sliding more to cup his face, and Tony leans into it. Keeps his eyes closed as Peter tilts his head up, getting a better look probably. He feels cold, a little numb even, but those things aren’t really related. There’s a deep black blankness in his head, a hollow space that could be filled with anything at all; little whispers of thoughts skittering across it. 

Thoughts that he is everything Peter said. Who’s he really kidding, pretending as hard as he can that he’s redeemable, that he can make up for the things he’s done by saving a few people, doing a little good? Everything he attempts is immediately outweighed by the next disaster on his head. Everything he touches ends up twisted, ends up hurting people before he can make it stop. 

No one wants him, and he knows that’s too true. Has seen what happens when he stops trying, the silence that becomes the default, people just grateful he’s gone. Has seen that they’re better off without him around. Not Peter, some part of his head tries to insist. Peter’s not like that. 

Because Peter’s able to love anyone, he thinks, even someone like me, and that’s not a good thing. 

And— it’s true that he used to be good at sex, able to offer that at least, but he’s getting old. He’s getting older by the minute, and more tired, and what he has to offer now isn’t a piece on what he used to. 

Peter’s hands move on his face; when Tony cracks his eyes open, he finds Peter on his level, kneeling in front of him and staring. He’s still flushed, still looking a little dazed. “Holy shit, Tony,” Peter says, trailing his fingers along Tony’s face, through the mess, the tears still dripping down Tony’s cheeks. “That was insane, you look amazing,” and his voice is softer, higher, back to the way he normally sounds after sex. Not that flat, distant way he’d been talking to Tony. 

“That was so much better—hotter—than anything I could have imagined,” Peter whispers. Traces Tony’s lips, his hand dropping to rest under Tony’s chin, and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle; Tony doesn’t deserve that sort of thing, but he closes his eyes again and leans into it. It’s almost too much when Peter kisses him again and again, all along his jaw and his cheek, the tip of his nose, feather light on his eyelids. 

Peter sighs after a while, pulling back. “I guess we’d better get you cleaned up,” he says. “Uh— can you like, get up and walk around and stuff?” Tony nods and lets Peter pull him up, opening his eyes just enough to keep from running into anything as Peter tugs him along. 

He leans against the counter once they’re there, pressing his hands flat against it and trying to gather himself together while Peter does something over there, digging around. He can’t stop crying, this stupid, helpless sort of crying, nearly silent but choking him all the same, tears just dripping from his face constantly. It’s pathetic. He looks up, and— and sees himself. 

The mirror doesn’t lie, he thinks. He really is pathetic. Look at him. Red eyed and red faced, come spattered across his cheek and nose and brow. The shadow around his eyes has spread, diffused and smudged until it looks like he has two black eyes, and the mascara has run all down his cheeks, grey streaks that are rubbed away at points, where Peter’s wiped them away. His lips would have been red regardless, darkened just from the blowjob, but the lipstick makes it more obscene, the way it’s smeared, like a streak of blood along his chin and jaw. 

And all of it cut through with tear tracks, wet and messy and gross, he’s so fucking gross, god. 

“Here,” Peter says, “let’s just— Tony? Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck. He has— he has to pull it together. Has to not freak Peter out, not make Peter think he did something wrong; Tony told him, told him to say no one wanted Tony, that he wasn’t good for anything, he told him to. 

Peter hops up on the counter next to him, his legs swinging. “Tony,” he says, and Tony looks over at him. He doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t seem to matter; Peter pulls at him gently until Tony takes a few steps to the side, until he’s between Peter’s legs. One of them hooks behind Tony, heel catching on the back of his thigh and holding him in place. 

“You were so hot like that,” Peter says, tilting Tony’s head up. He’s got a washcloth that’s warm and soft and feels ridiculously good when he wipes at Tony’s face. “I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like it? Or it would feel weird? Or— or I’d feel bad, feel too bad and not be able to do it.” He dabs the corner of it around Tony’s eyes, delicate. “But I didn’t, I— you liked it, I could actually tell you liked it and that was crazy hot, that made me feel so good— that I could make you feel good saying those things, doing those things was just. I don’t even know, Tony.”

He leans over to rinse out the washcloth, rewet it, and Tony puts his hands on Peter’s thighs. Peter looks at him, a stutter of a pause. Wipes Tony’s mouth, all that red gone, and kisses him. He kisses Tony like it’s all he wants in the world, slow, soft little kisses that go deeper, go hungry before Peter gentles them again. Tony leans into it, helplessly, wanting. 

“You’re still crying,” Peter says, softly. Tony nods. “I know, you said it’s okay,” Peter says, “but— it is?”

Tony nods again, unable to explain more right this second. He feels sick and hollowed out, and he doesn’t hate it. He folds, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder and curling as close to him as he can, starting to shudder as the tears come faster, harder. 

“Oh,” Peter says, “oh god, Tony—” His arms come up around Tony, holding him tightly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, this is— we’re okay. It’s okay if you need this, just… um, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Shit shit shit— he’s asking a lot from Peter here, he tried to warn Peter but this, he’s not prepared for this. “Sorry,” he manages, just a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter says. “Please don’t be sorry, cause then I’ll have to be sorry and neither of us need to be, right?” He turns his head a little, kissing Tony’s neck. “You made this not something I need to feel sorry for, I think? I don’t feel as much like a bad person as I thought I would, so— so you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I don’t mind you crying. I mean, I mind it cause I don’t really want to make you cry, but it’s okay if you do. And you said you would so…”

He trails off, and yeah, that’s Peter, that’s Peter right down to the core, he knows Peter.

“You know what,” Peter says. “This is not the best place for this. Here, just let me—” He tips Tony back, sliding off the counter. Gets a hand around Tony’s waist and one under his ass and lifts him up like it’s nothing, Tony grabbing at Peter’s shoulders. Jesus, that’s hot. 

Peter takes him to bed. Dumps him in it and crawls in after him, curling up with Tony tucked close. “This is better,” he says. “Totally better. Right?”

Tony nods. The tears are slowing a little, and that blankness is starting to fade around the edges, leaving him exhausted more than anything. He wants to hold onto Peter and hide and sleep for a week. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Peter says. He’s got one hand in Tony’s hair, smoothing through it gently. “I can’t believe you made that happen for me,” he says. “You turned it into something even better and I— I can’t even start to thank you enough for that, Tony. It’s crazy how you keep making things happen for me.”

Maybe he’s not just good for sex. “Good for something, then,” he mumbles— fuck, no, he knows that’s not all he’s good for. He does.

“Good for a lot of things,” Peter says. “Uh. Hey, you know— you know I didn’t really mean any of that, don’t you? Like one hundred thousand percent don’t actually think any of those things. It’s all bullshit, that you can’t be redeemed or wanted or loved.” He touches Tony’s cheek, soft, following a tear track down. “I love you.”

The other times he’s done this, most of them said something like that. Not all of them; he’d made the mistake of trying it with a few people who really did believe every horrible thing they said about Tony. He’d thought maybe that would be better, more real, but it was worse. But most of them have tried to reassure him after that they didn’t really mean it. 

Most of them—okay, all of them—he hadn’t quite ever believed. Maybe they didn’t mean everything they said, maybe they only believed one tiny part of it, but Tony knows he’s an aching void underneath it all. People know, they see when you play like that. 

“You know,” he tells Peter. “I’ve done this before, the humiliation part at least. And I always wondered, after, how much they meant. How much they believed, regardless of what they said. But— god, Peter. I believe you.”

“Good,” Peter says, fiercely. “Because it’s true.”

“I know,” Tony says, and he does. He actually does. “It’s— different, doing it with someone you know it’s all words for. With someone I trust as much as I apparently trust you. You— you say it different.”

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” Tony says. “It’s not something to really talk about now; I’m still too fucked up to say things right. Tomorrow, alright?”

Peter slides closer, tangling his legs with Tony’s, and kisses him. “Alright,” he says after. “Later.” Lets Tony burrow against him and settle, drift, completely safe for once. 

“You really are insanely hot when you’re messy and crying though,” Peter whispers after a bit, and Tony— Tony believes that too. 

He thinks he’d believe anything Peter told him.

#starker #squeaking by at the last minute #would really fit a different kink better uggggggh oh well #aftercare #kinktober #my work #fanfiction

[aion-rsa]

15 Strongest Pokémon… Emotionally

https://ift.tt/2TyXgQ6

The world of Pokémon is a hard and cruel place. It takes a tough Pokémon to stand tough and survive, which doesn’t make it a suprise that some of the most celebrated Pokémon could also be considered the strongest.

For all the lessons of friendship, Pokémon Centers, and jelly donut flavored rice balls, it’s not easy living in the world of Pokémon. In fact, it can be downright cruel for some. That’s why we want to honor an elite selection of Pokémon that are the most powerful, toughest, unassailable, and strongest…emotionally.

Because let’s face it, any Pokémon that can survive fear of death, rejection, imposter syndrome, or questionable hair choices can almost certainly beat Eternatus.

Charmander

Death comes for us all, but Charmanders have it especially rough. It’s been said that a Charmander dies if the flame on its tail is extinguished. That means that a Charmander must live in constant fear of anything that could put out its flame. Water, strong winds, and sand (coarse and rough as it is) kill up to 2000 Charmanders a year (we presume). If only there was a way to donate Pokémon pennies a day and help Charmanders everywhere live free of the fear of death.

Jigglypuff

Rejection. We can all remember times we’ve felt it. Maybe it was a lost crush, not getting that job, or never getting to control the playlist in the car because you once made the mistake of letting “Misty’s Song” play on a road trip and your friends never forgot it. Jigglypuff gets that. Every time it attempts to sing, its audience falls asleep. If a Jigglypuff sings a song and no one is there to hear it, did it ever make a sound?

Dugtrio (Alola Version)

Keeping your hair well maintained is tough even on the best days. Now imagine your defining trait is that you use your entire body to dig out of the ground. How are you supposed to keep those luscious locks full and silky through such a process? I’m bald, so I genuinely have no idea, but Alola Dugtrios have somehow mastered the art. How? If we ever learned their secret, all wars would probably end, all criminal organizations would dissolve, and at that moment, we may understand the secrets of the universe. Or they’d just let us know the name of their stylist.

Team Rocket’s Meowth

How far have you gone for love? Did you walk 500 miles? Did you ride on a piano for 1000 miles? What did you do? I can guarantee it wasn’t anything close to what Team Rocket’s Meowth did when he became the only Pokémon to learn to speak human to impress the lady Meowth he loved. And what did he get for it? He was called a freak.

Team Rocket’s Meowth may fail every week, but he goes on despite the pain. Every day he does, he’s stronger than all of us.

Abra

Multiple years in therapy have taught me you can’t run from your problems; you have to face them head-on. Sure, you can avoid sadness by avoiding problems, but in the process, you run the risk of avoiding happiness. I think about Abra in therapy sometimes because all it can do is escape via teleportation. That its only significant power. The mental walls it must have built up can surely withstand any attack, physical or emotional.

Unless, of course, you play M2M’s “Don’t Say You Love Me” from Pokémon: The First Movie’s soundtrack. That could make a grown Tyranitar cry.

Electrode

One might think that Voltorb could easily share this slot with Electrode, but there’s a key difference. Voltorbs are young and innocent. They haven’t lived enough life to know how sad it is when it all self-destructs on you. Electrodes know. They’ve loved, they’ve lost, they have families, and they have careers. But to self-destruct is what an Electrode must do, and it does it well.

Cubone

Everyone and their Rattata knows that Cubones wear the skulls of their dead mothers. What people fail to consider is that every single Cubone in the world shares that same backstory. Why are all Marowaks eventually killed? Is it the birthing process? What immediately deteriorates their skulls for Cubones to wear? Whatever it is, a Cubone becomes tough as rocks from the moment it’s born, and no one can stand up to a Pokémon that can handle that level of grief.

Or it’s all a big scam. If you look closely, the skull Cubone wears is not an exact replica of a Marowak. What are they trying to hide, huh? Is Mr. Fuji trying to drive tourists to Lavender Town? If that is the case, then Cubones have been running an incredible racket for years and deserve to be on this list solely for the power it takes to deceive everyone in the Pokémon world.

Read more

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Chansey

“A Machamp who thinks it’s strong has never been a Chansey in a Pokémon center.” – Pokémon proverb (probably).

Chansey must heal hundreds, if not thousands, of sick and injured Pokémon a day. The mental strain they endure must be immense, but Chansey does it all with a smile. That’s powerful. It also has to handle customer service at Pokémon Centers, and that might make it even more powerful. After all, the only thing that’s harder than a battle with a Palkia is dealing with the ninth person today asking to see your Nurse Joy manager.

Staryu

Every time Staryu emerges from its Poké Ball it screams, “HYAH.” Is this a battle tactic to frighten its opponents… or is it something deeper? A cry for help? A plea to stop this senseless conflict? Perhaps Staryu screams hoping the eternal void will scream back.

Mewtwo

Oh sure, you can catch one at level 70 and it already knows the Psychic ability, but that isn’t why Mewtwo is powerful. It’s powerful because it’s burdened with teenage angst. “WHY WAS I CREATED?” it asks. I don’t know, Mewtwo. Put it on your Xanga, I’m trying to play Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.

When Mewtwo grows up it’ll take some serious time to scrub all that cringe from its social media profiles.

Marill

The year is 1999. Leaked screenshots of a blue Pokémon can be found all over the internet and tales of it spread to schoolyards around the world. Marill, the Pokémon pictured, is excited! It wasn’t sure if it’d be accepted after the unprecedented success of the first 150 Pokémon, but people already love it! It sneaks into the back of an elementary school class to hear the good word of mouth about itself.

“I can’t wait to catch Pikablu!” says nearly every child in the classroom. Marill’s blood turns cold. Marill tries to stop the rumors, but it’s too late. By 2001, the excitement is long gone. Children spot Marill and greet him with scorn. “Oh, that was all just a rumor. Marill sucks.”

To this day Marill can take a blast of Thunder right to its face because no pain can match the blow to its self-confidence that it received during that horrific time.

Shuckle

Here he comes, rougher than the rest of them. The best of them, tougher than leather. You can call him Shuckle, unlike Squirtle, he doesn’t chuckle. He gets on the dance floor and shuffles.

Being a Shuckle is hard, man. Look at those little legs.

Jirachi

Wish granting. It’s an ability with limitless potential, but Jirachi does not grant wishes for itself. No, it must grant wishes for others. That means it has to put up with adults desperately wishing their parents didn’t throw away their old Pokémon cards because they swear they had a 1999 First Edition Mint Charizard Holo that they could use to finally pay off their crippling student debt. Please, oh please Jirachi make my wish come true.

Putting up with that takes a mind of steel.

Rotom Pokédex

The internet is filled with “Who’s the strongest of X franchise?” debates. In those debates, people discuss strength, speed, defenses, and more. What they fail to consider is that the most powerful force is often information. You can’t beat someone who knows your every weakness. You can’t run from someone who knows your past.

Rotom Pokédex is living information. The moment it sees you, it knows you. What does it know? What sins can it see? Maybe forfeiting the fight is better than the possibility of your dark past being revealed to the world.

Ash’s Pikachu

All Ash’s Pikachu wants is to grow, but he can’t. It would hurt the brand. Kids love Pikachu! He can’t evolve!

“Please!” Pikachu begs. “I don’t want to evolve but please let me grow! If you won’t, I’m leaving!”

The Pokémon Company looks down on him and shakes their heads.

“Sure, Pikachu,” they say. “You can leave, but you know, our profits would go way down and we’d have to lay off half the staff. You don’t want that to happen, right? Sonia’s got five kids at home. What will they think when she tells them she lost her job because of Pikachu?”

So Pikachu carries on, the weight of responsibility on its shoulders every day.

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from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2UHUYyD

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[imsuchmarveltrash]

Revolutionary (A Stucky x Reader Imagine) - inspired by Badlands by Halsey [PROLOGUE + Chapter One]

“Hello, and I’m sorry: a salutation and a farewell. I don’t have much time. This Times New Roman is gonna fly through my fingertips, like a plague of moths. The hollow black-letter shells crunched into the ground, like the skin of a cicada. And you can do whatever you want with it–keep it to yourself, or let it serve as a warning.

“This city is disgusting; a corpse of what it used to be. The people are filthy, gluttonous: ruled by the power exchange of sex from the hands of the proletariat to the bourgeoisie. The tops of the skylines buzz with the lacklustre enthusiasm. The ground level is caked in dirt and rust and grime, and the people that dwell there awake and rub the filmy layer off their lukewarm eyes.

“There are some here I love, some who fear me, and some who wish I was dead. I didn’t ask for this. No one asks for this. You’re born into it. You grow up oblivious and sheltered, and one day the evil realities of this place hit you square between the eyes, like a perfectly aimed bullet. If this were a movie, I would ride off in some blood red sunset, down a stretch of desert road, into the wasteland that keeps us captive here. But this isn’t a movie. These are the Badlands.”

-Halsey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWCOW7TaGQE 

Chapter One: Castle

These were the Badlands. A singular long-forgotten city that existed leagues away from any other known civilisation. No one knew what happened to the rest of the world, just that as far as your eye could see, all that remained was a stretch of desert wasteland, seemingly endless. The city itself was completely dystopian: a dilapidated ground level filled with squalor and people living in misery. They were referred to as The Proletariat–the 99% that was forced to live off the scraps the government could barely care to provide. That other 1% was what you called the Bourgeoisie. They were the richest of the rich, living lives of excess and gluttony. Yet, the superfluity could never hide the emptiness that never wavered from their dull eyes.

The government could barely care for order. They’d passed few rules of society and as long as they weren’t broken there were never any issues. These rules were:

1.      The Badlands are what’s left of society, you may never leave.

2.      There is a clear line between Proletariat and Bourgeoisie. You cannot cross it. Be exiled if you dare.

3.      Relations between the Proletariat and Bourgeoisie are taboo. People who break this rule will be outcasted.

The government’s biggest concern was keeping the Proletariat separate from the Bourgeoisie. Naturally, people had their ways of bypassing the rules. They met in secret, spoke in codes. That was how you’d become part of an underground circle that believed in equal treatment of all people. The government only acted to keep the people they liked happy. The needs of the rest of the city were never prioritised. The group you belonged to wanted change.

You were a small group–barely over fifteen people. Consisting of people mostly part of the Proletariat, there were few Bourgeoisie members. These included Tony Stark, Natalia Romanova (better referred to as Natasha Romanoff), Loki Laufeyson, and Nicholas J. Fury.

The mastermind that was Tony Stark remained a mystery to you. The government adored him. A descendant of Howard Stark, the man responsible for the city surviving, Tony had both privilege and the weight of rather large shoes to fill. Yet, Tony was treated as royalty, but he couldn’t care less for the system the government had in place. He’d seen too many people  dying in the streets to be able to continue turning a blind eye. Soon after embracing his dissatisfaction, he’d met you, and the two of you formed a pact, vowing to make a difference.

Natasha was a beauty born straight into the government. She’d seen what they were doing and had been appalled. Unlike the rest of society, Natasha didn’t grow up sheltered. Her parents were government agents who helped enforce the ruling system. They wanted her to grow up to be just like them, so the system was her harsh reality from the start.

Loki was the most reluctant of the Bourgeoisie members in the group. He enjoyed his life of luxury and liked being able to have the entire city at his fingertips. He  just couldn’t take the injustice anymore. Not after his brother, Thor, renounced his position within the Bourgeoisie to be exiled to a low-class Proletarian lifestyle.

Nicholas Fury had stumbled into your group by chance, but it was a chance you were all thankful for. He was the right-hand man to Alexander Pierce, the leader of the government’s schema. His desire for equality along with his pull within the government, made him an integral part of your circle.

The Proletariat members consisted of you, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker, Clint Barton, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Vision, James Rhodes, and Maria Hill.

You, Steve and Bucky had grown up together. Growing from friends in your youth to something so intricate yet indescribable as the three of you got older. They were your closest confidants and gave you both everything you wanted and needed. Relationships and labels didn’t exist within the Badlands, so you could exist freely with your boys. The three of you had made a pact to follow each other to the end of the line, even if that meant that they were following your lead through this revolution.

Thor Odinson joined shortly before his brother Loki. He’d been a member of high society but had a good heart. He’d spend a lot of his money trying to help those he could within the Proletariat in whichever way he could. This made him highly unfavoured with the government, so they propositioned him. He could either stop helping the Proletariat or be stripped of his wealth and become one of them. The convoluted system somehow gave the government the rights to do that. So, Thor chose to rather be a part of the Proletariat.

Peter Parker was your youngest member. He had a brilliant mind and, together with Maria Hill and Wanda Maximoff, had found a way to hack all of the government systems. There was no special reason for any of them being in your circle, they were only tired of living in squalor.

James “Rhodey” Rhodes and Pietro Maximoff also only joined for the cause. Rhodey because of Maria, and Pietro because of his sister. They were both strong fighters, which you knew you’d need to win this war, so you accepted the both of them gladly.

Bruce and Vision were two of the most intelligent men you’d ever known. They both had a passion for knowledge and, unfortunately, being born into the Proletariat didn’t allow them much access to it. Yet, with what they had, they somehow managed to be incredible at developing the weapons and tools that would be needed to power this revolution. Vision was spectacular with raw materials, having the skill to rival even the most qualified mechanical engineer, whereas Bruce was the Proletariat leading expert in chemical and biological weaponry.

Lastly, Clint Barton probably had the biggest vendetta out of anyone in your circle. Like Thor, he was exiled from the Bourgeoisie. What hurt him the most was that he’d lost his position because of falling in love and the government stripped him from his choice in the matter. Instead, they took his wife, Laura, only minutes after they’d gotten their marriage licence signed in secret. They took her to a government facility, never to be seen again, and had outcasted Clint to be a Proletarian. Knowing the cruelty of the government, he worried for Laura’s life and all that pain changed him, hardened him into the man he is now.

You were chosen as your circle’s  leader not only because of founding the group with Tony and your elaborate mind for strategy, but you all knew that the city would need a Proletariat leader after you overthrew the government. You weren’t self-elected. The group all believed in you. They knew that, mentally, you were the strongest and would be the best person to lead them both through the overthrow of the government and the change in the future. These may have been the Badlands, but this was your revolution.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve x reader #steve rogers series #reader insert #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst

[buckyjustbelikethat]

The Flower or the Thorns

Title: The Flower or the Thorns: One-shot

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky overhear someone saying that you don't deserve him.

Warnings: angst but eventual fluff, vulgar language, mention of drinking, insecurity, mentions of nightmares. 

Word Count: approx. 2500

A/N: Hello everyone 💕I’ll be finishing “Stuck in the Past” soon but I saw this prompt as I was scrolling through fanfiction the other day and I had to write it. I hope you guys like it, it is my favorite fanfiction category which is a shit ton of angst that leads to a shit ton of fluff. 

Stark was having a party and you were kind of excited. As Bucky’s totally normal, not superhero, girlfriend you didn’t get many occasions to hang out with all of the avengers. Sure, you had met them all, and they knew you well considering Bucky never stopped talking about you, but you didn’t get to see them often, besides Sam and Steve. The team loved you, even though the constantly teased Bucky about how he seemed to not speak on any subject unless it included you, they really were grateful for how happy you made Bucky. They could see the change in him once you started dating, him “gushing about his crush” (as Tony once put it) was definitely better than the depressive state he seemed to be in post winter soldier.

Bucky came to pick you up at your apartment for the party and you couldn’t help the blush that formed on your cheeks at the way he looked at you all dressed up. Bucky always made you feel beautiful, constantly trying to convince you you were a flower when you assumed your life was doomed as the thorns. You taught each other what love is. Bucky wanted to make you feel as happy as you made him, and you constantly wanted to make him as happy as he made you. Sure, you didn’t have as terrible of a history as he did, but your souls understood each other’s pain. You may have had different causes for your insecurities, but fire is fire no matter if it was a match or lightning that caused it.

“You look beautiful doll, God I can’t get enough of you.” You still weren’t good with compliments, but when they came from Bucky you wish you could bottle them and keep them forever.

“You look handsome yourself.” Your eyes held so much love that Bucky would never doubt whether your returned compliment was genuine or not.

“Ready to go ma’am.” Bucky teased as he extended his hand for you to grab.

“Of course sir, but would it be inappropriate of me to ask for a kiss first, I don’t think I’ll be able to move until you do so, it’s a very serious condition you see.” You played along with Bucky’s joke. He laughed and grabbed hold of you tightly and gave you what you requested.

When he pulled away, he still had a smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours “Fuck doll, I don’t think I can handle how much I love you.”

“Language sir.” You replied back. You gave him another quick kiss and then pulled away while grabbing his hand to lead him out of your building. Your energy was infectious, Bucky now felt himself become so excited for the party he was previously dreading, he doesn’t typically like to be around a lot of people, but your excitement made up for his worries.

When you got to the party you and Bucky immediately walked towards where most of the avengers were sitting (except for Tony, he was always who knows where during parties).

“Hi guys!” You say when you see them.

“Hey, it’s good to see you y/n.” Steve says.

“Are you gonna drink with me or will I have to do this alone.” Natasha says, immediately getting to business.

“Sure, I’ll have a drink, but I’m not really in the mood to drunk. So, if that’s your intention, you’ll be on your own.”

“Why is your girlfriend no fun.” Natasha says to Bucky in a fake pout.

“Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that.” Bucky replied back in mock seriousness, and even though Bucky and Natasha were both joking, your heart still fluttered when you heard him call you “my girl.”

You gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek and followed Nat off to the bar to grab a drink. While you were waiting for the bartenders to finish your drink two girls walked up to you. “Are you the winter soldier’s girlfriend?” one of the girls asks you.

Though they appeared to be genuinely friendly, there was something about her tone that was already putting you off even though the conversation just started. You weren’t entirely good at being in the public eye, which didn’t bother Bucky, because he didn’t like it either.

“Yes, Bucky and I are together.” The girl narrows her eyes at you, but before she could say anything Natasha cut her off.

“And speaking of Bucky, it looks like our drinks are here, so we are going to walk back over to him, it was great meeting you girls.” Natasha says to both of the women, not even attempting to make her tone all that friendly. As soon as she hands you your drink she practically pulls you away from the bar.

“I didn’t like them, and I trust my instincts.” Natasha says to you once you are far enough away.

“I felt the same way, I hoped I wasn’t being judgmental.” You reply back honestly.

“You weren’t, I don’t think those girls would have been even as friendly as they were to you if I wasn’t standing there, they kept side eyeing me the whole time.”

“Well thank you Black Widow for coming to my rescue.” You tease her, trying to change the conversation to a lighter tone.

“That’s what superheroes do.” Nat replies back to you. You were surprised she could call herself a superhero even in jest, but it is definitely what she is even if she has a hard time convincing herself of it.

By the time you reach the rest of the avengers again Bucky was sitting down on a chair, but there weren’t many available, so Bucky gestured over for you to sit on his lap, and you easily obliged. Bucky wrapped his arm around you once you sat down, and though it appeared to be casual, you knew that both of you felt more at ease when you were close. You weren’t always in an environment where this level of PDA was appropriate, but when you were able to hold each other close, it helped ease both of your social anxieties.

You both enjoyed the rest of the party, but it was getting late, and you both decided you were ready to go home, as you were walking to exit the building you saw the two girls from earlier standing by the exit. And both you and Bucky froze when you heard your name leave one of the girl’s mouths.

“I don’t understand what he sees in her, he’s been my Shield trainer for weeks and every day when I try to flirt with him, he ignores me. I don’t get it, she’s not even attractive. Did you see the way they were sitting earlier, I honestly feel bad for him, he probably is really embarrassed of her in public, I would be if that were my girlfriend. And to top it all off, your telling me that THAT is better in bed than I would be, ha, I doubt it.”

You felt frozen as you spoke. You felt as it their words are planting briars within your mind, latching on to your previous insecurities as if they were sustenance. But for now, you bury the thorns, only delaying their destruction. You can feel Bucky beside you make a movement to give them a piece of his mind, but you stop him with your hand, giving him a silent look that you wanted to handle this. The girls finally realized they weren’t alone from your movements, but you could tell it didn’t faze the girl that spoke, while the other you could tell wanted to leave the uncomfortable encounter.

“Look, I don’t know you, but I understand you are upset because the person you like doesn’t like you back, that never feels good, but you won’t get what you want from tearing other people down. Like you said, you are beautiful, and one day you will find someone great who will see that, but unless you let your character match your outer beauty, you won’t ever get the thing you want. I’m not the one in your way, from the looks of it, you are in your own way.”

With that you grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him out of the building, feigning confidence as you walked past the girls. As you reached Bucky’s car to go home, you avoided eye contact with him. Bucky didn’t know what to say, trying to gauge your reaction, but he was at a loss, you were trying to distance yourself from him, guard your emotions, but he knew that despite your confident display, those words didn’t come without pain, and it pained him that he couldn’t stop it.

Once you got in the car Bucky tried to meet your gaze, bringing his hand to gently caress the side of your face. “Hey, doll, are you okay.” At that question he could see your eyes become cloudy with tears.

“I’m fine, I just… its fine, can we just go home.” Bucky gazes at you warily.

“Of course, but I just want to make sure you know that none of what they said was true.” He waits a moment for your acknowledgement of his words, but you just look out the window. The drive home was in silence, Bucky didn’t want to push you too hard, but he could tell the conversation didn’t end there. Once you reached your apartment you silently went to your room. Bucky followed after you and sat on the bed as you changed into comfortable clothing. When you were done, Bucky patiently asked if you could sit with him, you obliged but you felt trapped, knowing that the closer you were to him, the more he pried, the more inevitable it was that he would see when you inevitably self-destructed. He grabbed your hand when you sat down. “I just want you to know you are beautiful, you are the light of my life. You have made me so happy, please don’t believe what she said, because it is the furthest thing from the truth.” Bucky eyes started becoming glassy, but you could tell from his shaky grip on your hand he was also battling with his anger at what that girl said.

You once again didn’t reply, unsure if you should release the words suffocating you.

“Please, y/n, you have to understand that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Bucky,” you said your voice shaky with emotion and apprehension, “maybe you feel that way, but she’s still not wrong, and deep down you know it even if you don’t want to acknowledge it, I’ve always known it but I was selfishly trying to ignore it so I could be with you, because you are everything I’ve ever hoped for, but you deserve so much better than me. God, you deserve the fucking world, and I am… deficient. I can’t give you the perfection you deserve, I am not what you deserve.” The tears were streaming down your face, your words tasting like a goodbye, but one you’ve tried to suppress for so long, but that has haunted you from the day you met him.

You weren’t looking at Bucky, you couldn’t see the pain on his face, or the utter shock at your words. But when he spoke, you could tell that he was crying, “How could you believe that y/n. I don’t understand, if anyone isn’t deserving, it’s me who isn’t deserving of you. I only want what you can give me, just one kiss from you is enough happiness to last me a lifetime, and you have brought me so much happiness already. You are everything I could ever hope for and more. Please don’t leave me over this, because I would spend the rest of my life trying to find someone that would compare to you.”

You finally look at him, and the sincerity and pain on his face crumbled you. Your instincts and your heart were tearing you in two. Your words were now laced with uncertainty rather than its previous resolve, “But I’m a mess Bucky, I have problems, and you should be with someone that doesn’t burden you.”

“Doll,” he says with his voice soft, “you are the furthest thing from a burden, everyone has problems, and I want all of you, not a sanitized version of you or anyone else. You are the person that helps me through my anxiety every day, you are the person that is there to hold me or make me feel better after a nightmare, you are the person to make me laugh more than I did for most of my life. I wish you could see how I see you. I love you so much. You leaving me isn’t what would save me, you being with me, your smile, your wit, your laugh, your eyes, your intelligence, and your compassion, are what save me every day. Please don’t do this.” His words were gentle but pleading.

Your lip trembles, “I love you so much, I don’t want to leave you, I just am afraid one day you will wake up and believe that everything she said was the truth. I’m sorry.” Your voice cracking at the end of your words as your tears continued to fall.

He finally reaches out to you and pulls you into him, cradling you in his lap, and he holds you tight. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, and I swear to you that day will never come. I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

You continued to cry in his arms, but the tears felt more like relief. He whispered loving words as you began to calm down, and when your crying finally stilled, Bucky felt like he could finally breathe again.

When your heartbeat returned to a normal pace, you pulled your face away from where it was buried in his shirt. “I think I might have ruined your shirt with my makeup.” Your voice was still slightly scratchy from crying but held your familiar lightness, and it brought a smile to Bucky’s face.

“I don’t care about my shirt doll, all I care about is that you feel better, I don’t know what to do with myself when you are upset. I’m sorry that all of this happened, I’ll speak with Tony about getting her switched with a different trainer.”

“Okay, do what you are comfortable with, but it’s not really her fault that I’m upset, my insecurity has always been there, she was just the one that brought it to light.”

“Doll, if you ever are feeling insecure again tell me, and I will do whatever I can to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

“I love you so much.” You say as you pull Bucky in for a bruising kiss, and your heart melts when you feel his smile as he kisses you back with just as much passion.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barns #bucky barnes x you

[atsixesandcevans]

in love just a little - part 2

Summary: In a battle between head and heart, which will win out? Will you and Steve let down your walls enough to admit to yourselves - and each other - that there might be something between you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: angst, self-depreciation, language

A/N: aaand here it is! this is the last part of the fire it ignites, and i just want to thank each and every person who has read, liked and commented on this story. i see and appreciate every one of you!

if the inspiration strikes, i may revisit this story with a bonus chapter or two, but for now there are a few other projects i’d like to work on.

i really hope this was worth the wait, enjoy! :)

Read on AO3 || Masterlist || Series Masterlist

As promised, you met Steve in the gym just before 10am the next day, after - finally - a few hours of sleep. Steve was already in there when you arrived, throwing punches at a punching bag. It was one of the extra-strong ones that Tony had designed for Steve after one too many messes when he had hit them with just a little too much force. 

His back was to the door and, as you entered, you took a moment to enjoy the sight before you; the light sheen of sweat that had formed across his skin, the way his muscles shifted beneath the too-tight t-shirt as he moved. 

The sound of the door closing behind you brought you out of your thoughts, as well as alerting Steve to your presence. You greeted each other with "good morning"s and tight-lipped smiles, Steve unwrapping his hands while you set your bag at the side of the room, reaching to tie your hair back.

Steve couldn't help but get lost in your movements a little. His gaze trailed down from your neck to your back, following the smooth curve of your hips and strong legs. He knew well enough that, despite the softness to your form, you had the strength and stamina to do some damage to any enemies that came your way. He wondered what it would be like to feel that strength for himself, the movement of your muscles under his palms…

He quickly averted his gaze back to his hands when you lowered your arms, already feeling the blush creeping up his neck at even the thought of being caught staring at you. 

You began with some stretches, then completed several rounds of cardio and strength exercises. By the time you were both warming down, the atmosphere around you was much more comfortable, and you even began to joke with each other as you left. The surge of relief you both felt when you parted ways with warm smiles and "see you later"s was almost palpable. Perhaps things would actually be okay between you.

---

You and Steve soon fell into another easy routine. Almost every day - barring those days where Steve was called away on a mission, or either you or Steve insisted you needed a rest day - you would get up way earlier than you had once deemed acceptable and made your way to the gym. Sometimes, Steve would already be there, either going for a few rounds on a punching bag or doing some cardio - depending on the weather and whether he had managed to go for his morning run. Other times, you got there first and did some warm-up exercises until Steve showed up. 

You'd get in a decent mix of cardio (to rebuild your stamina), weights (to restore your strength), and hand-to-hand combat techniques, with Steve overseeing every aspect. As much as you would grumble about the early starts and the fact that Steve never failed to put you through your paces, you soon started to see some visible improvement. You could run faster and for longer, and you were able to hold your own against Steve a hell of a lot more effectively than when you restarted training. You could feel that you were more fluid and nimble with your movements, and Steve wasn't shy about expressing how impressed he was with your progress. You couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow trying to make up for his past animosity towards you. The idea was nice and sent a fresh wave of butterflies through your stomach every time it crossed your mind, but you really wished he wasn't so hard on himself. You had forgiven him for his past misgivings and had no ill-feeling towards him at all.

Except, right now as he insists the move he's trying to re-teach you "really isn't that hard, Y/N." You knew he was trying to be patient with you, but it was starting to frustrate him a little, too. The two of you had been working on this combat move for a few hours now, and you just couldn't get the hang of it, no matter how hard you tried. 

Steve took a moment to calm you both down and walked through the move one more time. You paid close attention, desperately trying to ignore the way his biceps flexed when he moved and allowed the steely determination to wash over you as you started towards him. 

You ran through each part of the process in your mind as you did so, replaying Steve's gentle but commanding voice in your head. It started out great, just as you had wanted, and allowed a tiny sliver of victory to worm its way into your mind. But, as you went into the last manoeuvre, you lost your balance and fell, landing on you back on the mat with a grunt of an exhale. 

Your hands quickly came up to rest against your face, hiding the frustrated tears that were threatening to fall. 

Steve's concerned voice only made it worse, really. "Hey. You okay?" He came to crouch next to you, and you hated how patient he was being. He brushed his fingertips against the back of one of your hands, and you moved them from your face, allowing them to drop limply at your sides as you let out a breath. 

You sat up quickly with a huff, angry tears dangerously close to falling, and swiftly made your way to one of the benches against the wall of the training room. Sitting heavily down, you muttered a curse and leaned forwards to rest your elbows on your knees, trying to calm yourself down.

Sensing your distress, Steve approached you and squatted in front of your knees so that he was level with your face.

"I know it's hard right now, but I promise it will be easier. You've already made so much progr-"

"When, Steve?" You sat up quickly, hair mussed from running your hands through it and met his eyes, frustration seeping out of your every pore. "I can't get this move right, you said yourself that it's not that hard, but I just can't get it!" You had taken to gesticulating widely with your hands, the volume of your voice rising with every word. You sighed and slouched back down again, eyes, trained on the ground between your feet. "I'll never get back to where I was before."

Steve shook his head and shifted closer to you, one hand resting on your knee, the weight of it there a surprisingly great comfort in itself. "You will. I promise, you will." His voice was firm but gentle, and your tied brain had no choice but to believe him and hang onto his every word. Especially when you saw the conviction in his eyes. "Most people might not, but you're not most people. You're so strong, Y/N, and so unbelievably stubborn that I have no doubt you won't stop working until you're even better than before." It felt as if he was staring directly into your soul, his words and tone so sincere that they touched something deep within you, and you felt your frustration being replaced with a surge of a different emotion. Softer, but no less all-consuming. "The team believes in you. I believe in you. All there's left to do is for you to believe in yourself."

Neither of you had noticed that Steve had been gradually moving closer to you, your faces now just inches apart, both of his hands resting on the sides of your knees. He seemed to notice your closeness at the same time you did, and his eyes darted across your face, focusing on your lips for just a second before trailing back up to your eyes. Being this close again, you could see the hints of green in his irises; the almost imperceptible smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, brought out somewhat inexplicably by the recent summer sun; the frankly unfair length of his eyelashes. 

Your lips parted in a barely audible gasp, and you searched his face for any doubt, any sign that this wasn't something he wanted, that you had misread the signs. That he didn't want what you wanted, what you had imagined for countless days.

Slowly, almost painfully so, your faces drew closer, breath mingling, though neither wanting to be the one to take the first step. Maybe it was fear holding the both of you back, and maybe it was stubbornness. 

But all of that faded away when your lips finally met, soft and gentle, and the only thing that you cared about was him. This. 

It was like you were breathing for the first time, like you had been deprived for so many years and had just now gotten your first taste of life. 

Yours and Steve's lips slowly parted, only for the two of you to dive right back in, with a renewed confidence and intensity. 

You allowed yourself to get lost in him, your hands sliding up his chest, one resting at the back of his neck, the other laying flush against his chest, Steve's hammering heartbeat pulsating through your fingers. The idea that you could have this kind of effect on him only made you want to be closer to him, to feel him pressed against you.

It seemed that Steve wanted the same thing, because he slid his hands along the outside of your thighs and across your hips until they reached your waist, pulling you closer together and allowing you to become even more consumed by the other. 

When you finally broke away, breathless, your faces stayed close, foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed, lips almost touching. Neither of you made any motion to move away, perfectly content to stay in your perfect little bubble as long as possible.

The two of you stayed like that - for minutes, maybe only seconds, you couldn't be sure - just breathing each other in, until the sound of laughter outside the gym caused you to jump apart. You felt that familiar shame wash over you, having allowed yourself to get caught up in the moment, again, and screw up your relationship with Steve, again, just as things were going well. 

You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat as you stood quickly and rushed to pack up your things, strategically avoiding eye contact with Steve. 

He tried to get your attention, calling your name softly, even trying to reach out for you as you passed him on your way to the door. You thought you could slip past him but, of course, he managed to grab hold of your wrist firmly, but not enough to hurt. You still refused to meet his eyes. You weren't sure you could handle the rejection you were bound to see in them. You tried to tug your wrist from his grasp, but he wouldn't relent.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

Nothing. Everything.

You just shook your head, gaze trained on the floor. "I'm sorry, Steve." Your voice was quiet, tense, and Steve was taken aback by it - so much so that, when you pulled your arm again, he let you go, frozen in place as he watched your retreating form slip through the door. 

Seconds later, a group of agents entered the gym, their lively chatter cutting through the tenseness of the room. Several nodded across the room with a "hey, cap" before returning to their conversations, and Steve couldn't find it in him to offer more than a forced greeting in return before he collected his things and dejectedly made his way back to his room. 

---

Not even an hour later, Steve found himself in the empty kitchen, silently moving around to make some lunch. His mind kept replaying what had happened between you in the gym - the softness of your lips, the feel of your fingertips pushing through his hair - and he tried desperately to work out what went wrong.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Natasha entering the room, only becoming aware of her presence when she gripped his forearm and shoved him against the wall closest to him. The movement startled him, to say the least, and part of his brain wondered how the hell she had managed to do that so easily. But a more significant part of his mind was focused on the anger on Natasha's face. It caused a particular brand of fear - the fear that only comes about when at the mercy of an angry woman - to spread through him, and he felt his eyes widening and his body stiffening.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Rogers?" She spoke quietly, voice oozing with barely-restrained fury, and Steve no longer felt like he had the body of a supersoldier. Under her gaze, he felt like a scrawny kid all over again, mere seconds away from getting his ass beat. 

She didn't even give him a chance to formulate a response before she continued, "something’s made Y/N upset. She won't tell me what happened, but I know the two of you trained this morning, and she was fine before then, so tell me, what happened?"

Steve knew that he wouldn't get out of there until he gave Natasha what she wanted, so after a cursory glance around the room to make sure they were still alone, he sighed and said softly, "we kissed."

Natasha, for all her stoicism and intimidation, actually looked taken aback for a second. Her face softened, and she took a step back, releasing Steve from her hold. "You kissed?"

Steve relaxed a little at her now softened voice and nodded. He could see the question forming in her eyes. "I don't know what happened, Nat. We kissed, and I thought it was great, but then some agents came in and she bolted."

She nodded once and turned her head to the side in thought. "You need to talk to her. She's obviously confused, you both need to talk and get everything straight. Neither of you will get any rest until you do. You gotta fix it, Steve."

With that, she turned on her heel and was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

---

Steve's first text came a little over an hour after your training session. You refused to look at it, at first, unable to bring yourself to extract yourself from your duvet cocoon. But, when a second chime sounded a few minutes later, curiosity got the better of you and you unlocked your phone with a huff.

Steve: Are you okay?

Steve: Please, Y/N, talk to me

You stared at the screen for several minutes, your mind warring with itself over what to do. When tears started welling in your eyes again, you locked your phone and set it back on the bedside table, before rolling over and burying your head back into your pillows. 

You really wished you knew what to do about all this. It had become glaringly obvious that you had feelings for Steve, but there was no way you would ever admit that to him. After everything that had happened between you, the chances of him reciprocating those feelings were depressingly slim, even if he didn't hate you any more. 

Then again... he had kissed you... or had you kissed him? Surely if he didn't want it to happen, he would have stopped you. Although he could have just gone along with it to spare your feelings - Steve's sweet like that, always thinking of others before him.

But, if he only kissed you back to placate you, then why had he seemed so into it? Unless you had imagined the subtle drag of his tongue against your lips and the way he had pulled you against his solid body...

Dammit, now's not the time.

Regardless of his feelings towards you, though, what were you supposed to do now? You weren't sure you would be able to face him now without breaking down. Not after having a taste of what could be, if only... 

But, somehow, the thought of avoiding him again was even more heart-breaking. It was funny how quickly and efficiently someone could find their way into your heart without you even knowing, turning themselves into an integral part of your life. The idea of that had always scared you, and now you were realising just how much. 

You spent another hour inside your head, going round and round the same arguments. Though somehow, you always found your way back to the cold hard truth that Steve would never have feelings for someone like you. 

Your phone chimed again just as you were about to restart your argument with yourself.

Steve: What happened, Y/N? Please, help me understand

Your stomach twisted with guilt. Steve didn't deserve to be kept in the dark like this. At the very least, you owed him an explanation.

You: Not like this. Not over text.

His reply was almost instant, and your guilt grew at the idea that he had been waiting for your reply. 

Steve: I understand. 

Steve: Will you meet me by the lake at 4 this afternoon? There's a deck on the far side of the water. It's quiet there. We can talk

You debated asking to stay at the compound but quickly realised that everyone there seemed to enjoy walking in on you and Steve's moments together. Perhaps it would be best to go somewhere else.

You: Okay. I'll be there.

Now all that was left to do was to prepare yourself for the emotional upheaval that was bound to be right around the corner.

---

The low evening sun streaming through the trees made for a pretty scene as you made your way through the woods that surrounded the lake. You took a moment to appreciate it, knowing full well that the coming conversation would be anything but calm. 

The winding path you took eventually opened out into a small clearing next to the lake. On the opposite side of the clearing, there was a small dock, and you could see Steve already sat on the edge of it, looking pensively across the water.

He didn’t react when you sat next to him and, if it weren’t for his advanced hearing, you might have thought that he didn’t hear your approach. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both just enjoying the peace of the still water and the slowly setting sun. 

“I’m sorry.” You hadn’t planned on being the one to break the silence, to take the leap into conversation. But there it was. Apparently, Steve hadn’t planned on it either, if the way he suddenly turned to look at you was any indication. You kept your eyes trained on your hands that had settled into your lap, but could feel the weight of his gaze on your face. 

“What are you sorry for?” The confusion in his voice was evident, the gentle softness of it causing emotion to swell in your chest and throat.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and screwed your eyes shut, heaving a sigh. “For putting you in this position. I know we were becoming friends - or I think that we were, anyway… and I’ve let my feelings get the better of me and screwed all that up.” Steve called your name softly, and you felt the faintest brush of his fingertips against your hand, but you just shook your head, refusing to even look in his direction. “Please, Steve, don’t make this harder.” He moved his hand back reluctantly, and it took everything in you not to reach out and nestle your fingers between his. 

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your gaze across the lake and continued, “You were too nice to turn me down earlier, and that night in the common room… But I need you to know that you don’t have to. It’s okay, I...” You chance the briefest of looks in Steve’s direction, and the deep frown lines on his forehead spur you on. “It’s okay that you don’t want me like that. Besides, we’re from different worlds. You deserve to be with someone like you; selfless, brave. Someone without a chequered past.”

Several minutes passed in silence between you, and you could almost hear Steve thinking next to you. Just as you were about to leave, Steve finally broke the silence.

“What makes you think that I don’t want you like that?” His expression was almost pained when you looked at him, his voice sounding strangely dejected. 

You huffed an incredulous chuckle, shooting him a disbelieving look. Quashing the speck of hope that threatened to break through, you replied, “isn’t it obvious?” Steve stared at you blankly, and you shook your head gently, turning back to look over the lake. “Besides the fact that you hated me for a good few months after we met? You could never be with someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“A criminal. And an impulsive one at that. You belong with someone like you… someone unselfish and warm; a hero. I can never be that, for you or anyone.”

Steve bristled a little at that, and his movement caught your eye and pulled your gaze towards him. “But you are a hero.” You scoffed derisively and barely managed to suppress your eye roll. “I’m serious. You put yourself in front of a bullet to save my life. Admittedly, it probably did more damage to you than it would have to me, but you didn’t even think twice about putting your life on the line to save mine, even though I wasn’t completely deserving. There is nothing more heroic than that.”

The sincerity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you found yourself - not for the first time - being completely drawn in by the pools of liquid blue that had no trouble captivating you. 

Neither of you had noticed that, during Steve’s little speech, you had once again migrated towards each other, finding yourselves in a position similar to the one you were in that morning. But, this time, you were both determined not to let it end the same way.

“But I was impulsive. I just confirmed that you were right about me.”

Steve shuffled closer to you on the dock, taking your hand firmly in his. “No. You showed me, then, just how wrong I was. Only someone truly selfless would step in like that, especially to save someone who had been so awful to them.”

“You were worth it.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, your voice barely a whisper, but the slight hitch in Steve’s throat told you he had heard you just fine. 

Glancing down at his hand still holding yours, you bit your lip a little, a shy, sad smile forming on your face. “I never meant to appear arrogant, you know?” The smile he gave you was soft, though his eyebrows were bunched in their tell-tale look of concern. “All my life, I’ve had to put on this mask, this facade, of a confident and blase woman, just so I’d be taken seriously. Not many people would have faith in my abilities if I let them see me as soft.” You both chuckled softly, and you squeezed Steve’s hand gently as you spoke, “I guess I was just waiting for someone to look past the act and see… me.”

The world seemed to slow as Steve lifted his free hand to move a stray piece of hair away from your face. “I see you, Y/N,” he whispered, before threading his fingers through your hair and bringing your face to his, your lips meeting in a slow, lingering kiss that ignited a fire in your heart. 

When you separated, you stayed close, foreheads pressed together. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Steve pulled back just enough to look at your face. “Would you go on a date with me?”

You wouldn’t be able to keep the smile off of your face if you tried. Nodding, you pulled Steve in for another kiss, but your twin grins meant that it ended up being a mess of teeth that made you both burst into giggles. 

Neither of you knew for sure how much time you spent together out by the lake, talking and kissing and laughing, but when you stood to leave, hand-in-hand, the sky was a deep blue, and the moon shone brightly in the cloudless expanse. 

As you made your way back to the compound together, fingers interlaced, Steve listened to you talk animatedly about something and, watching the way your face lit up like a thousand suns, he realised: perhaps he didn’t hate you so much, after all. 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers/you #in love just a little #the fire it ignites #beth writes

[allegra-writes]

Perfect

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

General Audiences

Warnings: None

The request:

This is the story of the first time you met Peter Parker, and the first time you kissed.

For all the people who asked for a second part of "Happy birthday, Peter" or asked me what happened in Paris. This is prequel to that fic, but as always, can be read as a stand alone.

MY MASTERLIST

You wouldn’t say you were having the worst day of your life, that was probably the day that psycho of Aldrich Killian kidnapped you and played mad science with you. Or, going farther back, the day those other psychos of Ten Rings had snatched your father in the middle of the dessert and kept him away from you for three months. No, you wouldn’t say it was the worst day of your life, but it was definitely on the top five.

First, your father finally allowed you to wear your suit, yes, but it was to fight the people that until forty-eight hours before had been your family. Then, you had gotten to meet the famous Spider-Man from You Tube, and he was as amazing as you thought he would be, or more, fighting side by side with you and your father, matching the rest of the Avengers in strength and skill and even managing to land a few punches on Steve, while visibly enjoying himself all the time. He was smart, and funny and a total hottie under that mask. So of course you had frozen like a star-struck twelve year old. You hadn’t even been able to speak, and now he probably thought you were some conceited, stuck up brat, too good to talk to the noobie.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, your father had humiliated you by taken you off the battlefield and carting you back to the hotel, with Happy as your babysitter, as if you were a child. Your only consolation was that Spider-Man had gotten the same treatment.

Still, by far the worst thing that happened that day, had been uncle Rhodey’s accident.

You had watched in horror how your dad had been too late to stop him from hitting the ground, unable to do anything yourself because he had deactivated your suit in order to force you out of the fight. He had rode to the hospital with Rhodey but had disappeared afterwards, and you knew that by the time you got your dad back, he was going to be bloodied and bruised. Not for the first time, you wished he would trust you enough to let you help him, but you weren’t under any delusions: You knew that after what had happened to uncle Rhodey, the chances of Tony letting you tag along on another mission were pretty much zero.

That also meant that the chances of you and Spider-Man ever crossing paths again were very slim, and with Happy returning you to New York the next morning, your window of opportunity with him was getting closed. So you did the Stark thing to do: You suited up for the battle and went to find Peter Parker.

…

Peter Parker was having the best day of his life. First, his childhood hero had brought him to Europe (or, had him brought, but whatever, Mister Stark was a busy man), then he gave him a brand new, awesome suit for him to wear. After that, he got to meet - and fight – The Avengers, and even steal Captain America's shield. The only downside had been that his celebrity crush, y/n Stark, hadn’t even spared him a glance, but he was used to pretty girls being aloof. At least to him.

He was so excited, that not even Happy Hogan's lack of enthusiasm could deter his good mood. Not even when he had demanded him to keep it down twice, and was currently knocking on his door a third time.

“Sorry, Happy! I promise this time I’ll...” He started apologizing before even opening the door, but the words died in his mouth once he did. Because that wasn’t Happy on the other side.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Mi-miss Stark! Hi!” It wasn’t fair, you thought: you knew you didn’t look that cute when you were nervous. But seeing him getting as flustered at you did wonders to your level of confidence. You smiled, feeling a little more your self.

“It’s y/n” you corrected.

“Y/n, sure” he blushed even harder, and you smiled wider.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Of-of course, miss Stark, y/n! I meant y/n!”, he tripped a little over himself making room for you to step in and it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. You immediately headed for his bed, hopping on it because why not.

“So,” You commented casually without stopping to jump, “this is the Spider-cave…”

“I- I guess, I mean” It wasn’t fair, Peter thought. The most accomplished girl of his generation, for not mentioning beautiful, the one whose picture was on his lockscreen, was currently jumping. On his bed. And he was expected to make sense? Ok, he could do this, he just had to say words. Words that went together. Any words.

Why couldn’t he remember any words?

“I’m sure yours is bigger” He meant your room, but you totally miss understood.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not as bouncy” you replied.

“what?”

“What?” You parroted dumbly, pausing your hopping.

“Your room is not as bouncy?” Peter regretted talking as soon as he opened his mouth. What if he had misinterpreted you? What if it was some kind of cool kid's slang and he had just proven how not cool he was? What if-

“No, I meant my bed…”

Of course you were talking about your bed, it was obvious! He was so stupid! Now you were standing there looking at him with a tiny frown on your face, probably thinking he was a complete looser.

And now it was awkward. God, why was he such a-

“Why are you on your pajamas?”

Your question took him by surprise. He took in your black shorts and sheer blue top. Wow. Just… wow.

“… Why aren’t you?”

“It’s like, six o'clock” You explained with a shrug, “Dad said it was your first time in Berlin, I was thinking you’d might like to go out, do a little sight seeing…”

“Actually I already saw the city yesterday” Peter wanted to punch himself: What was wrong with him? Y/n Stark had just basically asked him out and he had rejected her. And now you looked disappointed. Like, for real, for him.

However, as he was later going to learn, you weren’t the type to give up easily.

“But this isn’t just your first time in Berlin, is it? It’s your first time in Europe, period. Isn’t it?” you checked.

“It is” He confirmed, “Why?”

A mischievous grin, so much like your father’s, started to slowly grow on your face.

“I just had the craziest idea…”

…

You weren’t like this. You weren’t wild, you weren’t reckless, that was a Stark gene you seemed to lack. Until now, cause there was something about Peter Parker, about his wide eyed gaze, his childlike enthusiasm, that made you feel adventurous and fearless. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you wanted to impress him.

You wanted to blow his mind.

… God, you were in so much trouble.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing it, this is insane!”

“You can still back out if you want, it’s not too late” But as you said the words you knew it was a lie, it was already too late. Because you could see reflected in Peter’s big brown eyes the same madness that seemed to have overtook you. He wasn’t backing up, not for anything.

He was about to open his mouth to reply when a soft tap on the car window interrupted him.

“Miss Stark, everything is ready, you have permission to land in Charles de Gaulle in forty minutes”

“Danke sehr aufmerksam, herr Müller” You turned to Peter, “What do you say, Spider-Man? Wanna go for a joyride?”

Stealing a plane and flying away to another country turned out to be not as big of a deal as Peter had imagined. If anything, it was a little anticlimactic how minimal was the effort you both had to do with a self-flown jet and the Stark last name opening borders and clearing landing tracks for you. Still, it didn’t stopped his heart from beating hard inside his chest the whole time. Or maybe that was just you and the effect you had on him, running hand in hand through the airport, trying to get away from the bunch of paparazzi that caught wind of the Stark jet landing there. It was exhilarating. You were exhilarating.

… He was in so much trouble.

“We need a cab” Peter announced once outside de airport, without slowing down, the paparazzi hot on your heels.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to loose them in a car, we need something faster” You pointed out, way more experienced in being hunted by the press.

“There, look!” He gestured at an impressive looking motorcycle that was just pulling up a few yards ahead.

“A Livewire! You have taste, Parker”

A pleased little blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Thanks,” He mumbled.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur!” You started, but the guy on the Harley interrupted you.

“Dude, I’m from L.A.” He chuckled, “And you are y/n Stark! This is so awesome, can I get a selfie?”

“Sure, can we get a ride?” You smiled sweetly at the camera.

“Sorry, guys, I’m here to pick up my son, his flight is delayed, he’s gonna flip when he sees you were here and he missed it…” He seemed genuinely sorry.

“Could we, like borrow your bike, then?” Peter requested.

The guy hesitated,

“Well, I mean, you look like cool kids and all but…”

“Here, you can have my watch as a guarantee you’ll get it back” you took your watch off your wrist and placed it on his open palm, “We’ll send you the location of the bike once we’re done, and maybe we could get another selfie with your son when you come pick it up…”

There wasn’t much time left, with the first photographers already coming out the doors. Luckily the bike guy caved in.

“Is this a Stark watch? These are worth like, a hundred thousand…”

“Couple hundreds, actually” You corrected, “special edition and all that”

“Ok, Take it!” The guy said, seeing the paparazzi running your way.

“Thanks!”

“Thank you so much! We’ll promise to give it back in one piece!” Peter yelled back as you both were riding away, with his hands firm on the handle, loving the feeling of your warm form draped around his back and the wind on his face. It was almost like swinging on his webs at breakneck speed, maybe even better, cause your arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Ever did this before?” you asked, raising your voice above the howling of the wind.

“I drove my friend's Ned scooter once” He replied, honestly “and I have super fast reflexes, how hard can this be?”

“Oh my God, we’re going to die!!” You groaned into his jeans cladded shoulder.

“Don’t worry, miss Stark, I won’t let anything happen to you” He promised, speeding down the A1 under the pink sunset. And if your heart melted a little right then and there, well, no one really needed to know.

“Whoa! That is amazing!” Peter bursted out in awe as soon as you reached Avenue Foch and the Arc de Triomphe appeared into view.

“Ok, pull over there, it’s time to ditch the bike” you decided.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely, this city is full of beautiful things at every corner, we might miss some if we go too fast” You loved Paris, and for some reason, you wanted Peter to fall in love with it too. You couldn’t really put your finger on why it was so important to you, but you needed him to see it the same way that you did, with all it’s beauty and quirks, with all it’s flaws (because there were flaws, like the rats or the outdated subway system), you didn’t want Peter to just have the narrow tourist view, with only the golden statues, the museums and the clichés.

You were going to give Peter the full experience.

He webbed the Harley to the front windows of a Bowling alley and you sent the coordinates to your own watch for the cool guy from the airport to pick it up.

“We are in Paris! This is the wildest, craziest thing ever! Crazier than stealing Cap's shield! I mean, I-…”

“Peter? What are you doing?”

Peter lowered his cellphone and turned to face you,

“I- I was… it’s just- I've been making this video of the trip so far and I thought…” He explained, sheepishly.

“Cool, can I be on it?”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.

“Ye-yeah, sure” He turned the phone so the camera was pointing at you.

“We are in Paris with y/n!” He started over, “This is the craziest shit! I’m in the city of lights with the Queen S herself! Say 'Hi', your highness!”

It was amazing how the hated nickname the press had given you suddenly sounded so much sweeter from Peter’s lips. You smiled big and bright for his camera and did a little wave, and it was the cutest thing Peter had ever seen in his life. Chubby pandas and sneezing kittens had nothing on you.

“Where to now?”

“Tuileries Garden, of course” You said without missing a beat, “but we gotta hurry, it'll be closing time soon!”

Peter Parker had superhuman strength, you knew that, you had seen him stop a bus with his bare hands, witnessed him stopping a punch from the winter soldier himself. Yet he let you dragged him by the hand all across the Champs-Elysees. You weren’t sure what that meant, but it made you feel warm inside.

He, on the other hand, knew exactly what it meant. Because he would have let you do anything you wanted with him. Because he had known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you already had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Oh, no!” Your disappointment at finally arriving at the garden gates only to find them closed pulled at something inside of him. Those sad eyes and pouty lips ought to be illegal. He wondered idly what it would be like to bite that protruding bottom lip, to kiss the pout away. He chastised himself mentally, you were obviously upset, it was not the time for those kind of thoughts. You had your heart set on that garden, and he was just a middle class kid from Queens, there wasn’t much he could give to one of the richest girls in the world, but he could give you this.

“I think I might have an idea”

You turned to him with hopeful eyes,

“You do?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated, “we would have to- I mean you would have to let me, like…” He gestured awkwardly at your torso, his face reddening quickly.

“What?”

“Look, just… Do you trust me?” He finally asked.

“Of course” came your immediate reply.

“Ok. I’m just going to…” He took a step towards you, and very slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away or stop him, he wrapped an arm firmly around your waist.

You had never been this close to him before, well, no, that was a lie, you had been really close to him on the bike but somehow this felt different. Your face ended up on the crook of his neck and you breathed him in: Fabric softener with a hint of axe deodorant and chemicals, probably from his web fluid, and underneath all that, something else, spicy, like cinnamon. Something purely Peter.

Your warm breath on his neck sent shivers down his spine and he had to take a few seconds to gather himself enough to be sure his voice wouldn’t tremble before he said,

“Now wrap your arms and legs around me”

“What??” You squeaked, to your embarrassment.

“You said you trusted me”

“I- I do” You locked your arms around his shoulders and, with a little jump, your legs around his waist. Then, the world blurred out around you. One second, you both were standing on the ground, the next, you were flying through the air at the speed of light. And another one after that, you were landing surprisingly softly at the other side of the tall fence, effectively entering the gardens.

“Oh my god, that was awesome!”

“I’ve seen you literally flying,” Peter pointed out, “this was just a jump, definitely not as cool”

“Yeah, but like, in full armor and helmet. I never get to feel the wind on my face and stuff…”

“y/n? You can let go now” Peter regretted his words as soon as you let go of him and took a step back, taking your warmth and sweet perfume with you. He tried to cover his disappointment up.

“So, what’s so special about this garden anyway?”

You kept pointing at different flowers and sculptures for him to see and film, but more often than not, Peter found himself looking at you instead of them, far more fascinated by you. Far more interested in capturing the sparkle in your eyes anytime you saw something beautiful, or the way your skin seemed to almost glow under the fading light of the blue twilight, than in any fountain or plant.

It was a beautiful park, there was no denying it, like some enchanted wonderland out of a fairly tale. But he suspected it would probably loose most of it’s magic without it’s bewitching princess walking amongst it’s flowers, telling stories about the Medici and revolutions.

“… and of course, there’s the Ferris wheel. Do you think we can turn it on? I mean, it’s going to attract attention so we’ll probably won’t get a lot of time on it” You turned to find him staring at you through his cellphone camera, a soft look you didn’t dare to name on his face. “Pete, are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, yes, of course, I was just-…”

“Vous, arrete vous!”

“Shit! We better run!”

The security guard was fast. Definitely not as fast as Peter but way to fast for you, so Peter ended up carrying you in his arms bridal style even after jumping the fence, because there were a couple of guards waiting for you out there too.

“Look! That must be the Seine!” He exclaimed joyfully once you reached the riverside.

“It is!” You confirmed, holding onto him for dear life as he raced towards the water.

“Uncle Ben used to take me fishing when I was little,” He commented casually as he came to a halt right next to a small boat tied to an even smaller dock. He deposited you carefully on it, and jumped in himself, immediately getting into the task of starting up the little outboard motor.

“Are we stealing a boat now?” You snorted inelegantly.

“Borrowing it,” He corrected, finally sailing away from the shore and the guards yelling at you angrily on it. “We are borrowing it. And I don’t see why not, we already borrowed a plane and a motorcycle…” He shrugged.

“I guess we are literally partners in crime, huh?”

“I still can believe it,” He confessed, shaking his head, “I mean, up until like three hours ago I thought you didn’t like me”

You lowered your eyes in shame.

“I know, sorry 'bout that” It was your turn to make a little confession, “I know I was a total bitch to you at the airport, it’s just… I was kind of nervous about meeting you and I-…”

“Wait, what?” Peter Parker looked like a confused puppy, and you knew he would not appreciate the comparison but to you it was the cutest shit you had ever seen. “You were nervous about meeting me? Why?”

“Because,” You explained, “You are Spider-Man, you stopped a car from hitting a bus full of people with one hand, that’s kind of amazing”

You are kind of amazing, you were too much of a coward to say out loud.

“You saw my videos?”

You rolled your eyes,

“Well, duh! Who do you think showed them to my dad?”

Peter was speechless: You weren’t just the reason he was in Paris: You were the reason he was in Europe at all, the reason Tony Stark had seek him out, and offered him the “internship”. He knew after this trip his life was going to change forever and it was all because of you.

It was all thanks to you, and he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Now, see that bridge over there? That’s Pont des Invalides, nothing special about it, there’s hundreds of bridges in this city,” You continued to talk, completely oblivious to his little epiphany, “but once we reach it we’ll be able to see…”

“The Eiffel tower!” Apparently he had already spotted it.

By the time you finally reached Pont d'lena and we’re able to leave the boat, Peter was almost vibrating with excitement.

“There’s a merry go round!”

“A carousel, actually.” You corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Peter asked, confused. His little frown was adorable.

“Merry go rounds are for children. Carousels are for sophisticated young adults visiting Paris on their own for the first time!” You said before jumping into it before it even stopped moving, what earned you a few dirty looks from a couple of locals that were there with their children, but Peter was laughing as he jumped behind you, so it was all worth it.

“This has to be the prettiest merry go round I had ever took a ride on…”

“Carousel,” you rectified again “but, yeah, everything is prettier in Paris.” You sighed.

“Except you”

Your mouth fell open in mock indignation,

“Peter Parker, you take that back!”

“No- that’s not-… I mean, I didn’t- I wasn’t…”

He took a deep breath to pull himself together.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to say that you always look beautiful, no matter the city you are in…”

You looked away to hide your blush.

“Well… you probably should have started with that” you said as nonchalantly as you managed. The carousel finally stopped moving.

“Now what?” Questioned Peter once you got off of the ride.

“Now we go see the tower, after that… we'll probably have to take the subway, so we can go all the way to Montparnasse to see the Catacombs” You decided. He didn’t looked that convinced, though.

“The catacombs? At night? Won’t that be like, really creepy?”

“That’s the whole point! Besides,” you finished, looping your arm around his “I’ve got Spider-Man to protect me from anything evil that might be lurking down there”

He laughed,

“And I have Iron girl to protect me, so I guess there’s nothing to be afraid of”

“I’m not so sure about that superhero name,” The way you scrunched your nose was way too adorable for your own good, Peter concluded. “We’re gonna have to keep working on that…”

“Wow! Look at that, that’s incredible!”

You follow Peter’s line of sight right to were the most famous landmark in the world was sparkling as if covered in a thousand stars.

“It’s like the world’s biggest Christmas tree!”

… Or that, you guessed.

There were very few views in the world more beautiful than the Eiffel tower at night. The naked awe in Peter Parker's face illuminated by the tower lights as he gazed upon it, was one of them.

A soft yapping sound took you both out of your respective reveries. A couple of Pit bull puppies had seemingly escaped their leashes and we’re running around one of the entrances.

“Aww, look! It’s puppy love!” You declared as one of the puppies licked at the other's snout.

Peter laughed.

“Do you think that was their first kiss?” He wondered, “They do look kind of nervous and over exited about each other…”

You smiled,

“I wish my first kiss had been like that”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, in Paris, under the Eiffel tower lights on a full moon?” You explained, “Mine wasn’t nearly as romantic”

Peter seemed to get lost in thought.

You nudged at him with your shoulder.

“What about you? What was your first kiss like?”

He seriously considered lying, he really didn’t want you to know how much of a looser he was, and he also kinda wanted to impress you. But you had been nothing but sincere and natural and open with him the whole night, the least you deserved was his honesty.

“I never-… I mean, I haven’t… kissed anyone… yet.”

You blinked.

“Never? Really?”

“Really really” He confirmed and even under the soft light you could tell he was blushing furiously.

You didn’t know what possessed you next. Possibly the same brand of insanity that drove you to take your father’s jet in the first place, but that was neither here nor there as you slowly, very slowly like him at the gardens, took a step towards him and whispered,

“Close your eyes”

He couldn’t have disobeyed your command even if he had wanted to, it was like some strange gravitational phenomenon, or maybe an electromagnetic one: The closer you were, the stronger the pull to get even closer, and the stronger your power over him. He closed his eyes but he was quite obviously unnerved, the tension clear on his shoulders. You laced your finger with his and squeezed his hand a little, and he relaxed immediately at your touch. He licked his lips instinctively and that was your undoing, you finally pressed your lips softy to his, and the universe burst into colors behind your eyelids. It was sweet, and gentle and everything a first kiss was supposed to be.

And you actually had no recollection of any other person you had kissed before; because they were inconsequential, no one had ever made you feel anything like this, warming you up from the inside, making you dizzy with want. It was stronger than any whiskey you might or might not had sneaked from your father’s bar. You stood there, drinking each other for some minutes, or maybe some centuries, you weren’t sure. Everything beyond Peter’s lips on yours had lost its meaning.

When you finally parted, Peter rested his forehead in yours, breathless and refusing to have to let go of you completely.

“How was that for a first kiss?” You asked under your breath. Peter smiled, leaning in once again.

“It was perfect” He replied against your lips, “Absolutely perfect.”

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #cute #first love #first kiss

[spidercakes]

Have a high school ABO AU for funsies featuring omega Tony and alpha Peter. And also for funsies Tony is the feminized one, just to switch it up a little.

*

“Maybe if you stare at him harder he’ll start to like you back,” MJ says, shaking him out of his reverie. He looks away because he didn't mean to stare but Tony is really pretty and its hard not to look.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Ned has the audacity to ask. “Why are you looking at me like that, prom is like a month away this is literally the perfect time. Just saying.”

Peter squints at him, “he’s turned down like seventy people. Pretty sure he doesn’t want to go.”

“I heard he was waiting for someone specific to ask,” MJ says.

“After turning down seventy people? That person has to have an impenetrable self esteem and I’m flustered when cats don’t come to me. No thank you,” he says, waving his hands around. He’s fine with being rejected from afar, that’s more his speed. Like, pre rejected- he’s fine with that.

MJ rolls her eyes. “Better hope its not you he’s waiting for,” she mumbles.

Peter squints, “you realize he’s the prettiest omega in the school and I tripped and fell into a mud puddle today, right?”

“Some people find that kind of thing endearing,” MJ says maybe in his defense? Its hard to tell with her sometimes.

“I think its endearing,” Ned says entirely unhelpfully.

“You’re like... supposed to think that,” Peter tells him. “Its your best friend duty.”

*

MJ shakes her head, “that idiot is hopeless and you should just take Rhodey instead,” she tells him.

Tony frowns, “aren’t you supposed to be on his side?” That’s like... the rule of best friends. Unless they’re being super stupid then its probably best to tell them that.

“Not when I basically told him that you were waiting for him to ask you out. God, I basically just said it like that and he was all ‘wah, I get upset when cats don’t walk over to me,’” she says in a falsetto tone, waving her hands around.

“In his defense so do I.” He puts effort in okay, its nice when the cat walks over and acknowledges that.

“You two are made for each other,” MJ mumbles. “You should ask him out, that’d save you a lot of time and stupidity.”

He sighs, “well, seems how drastic measures didn’t work.”

*

Gym class is like... meant to torture math nerds like him and Peter is totally thinking of starting a revolt against the man when the gym goes silent. He sits up, mostly spurred on by Ned’s surprised face, and looks to where everyone else is to find Tony walking in, heels clicking as he goes. Peter wishes he had that much confidence. And that sense of balance. He looks behind him, curious to see who Tony is headed towards but there’s only like three people behind him and they’re all staring at him.

He turns back around to find Tony standing all but over him, hands on his hips. “Honestly Peter, you really need to learn how to catch a clue but that’s fine, I can do the work here,” Tony says, shooing Ned away from his feet before stepping one foot over him and gracefully sinking himself into Peter’s lap.

He has like... five hundred fantasies that all start like this but not in gym class where everyone is staring at him. Or in gym class at all because ew. “Um. Hi,” he says, unsure what the hell to do here. He’s kind of afraid that if he moves he’ll spook Tony away, which is ridiculous because Tony is a person not a deer and he’s also too brave for his own good.

Tony links his fingers through Peter’s and leans forward, pinning his hands above his head. Oh god, that’s worse. Better, but worse.

“Mr. Stark, can you not... molest Peter?” the gym teacher says and at least it shakes Peter out of it a little.

Tony looks little more than annoyed. “You can wait five minutes, Dench,” he snaps, turning his attention back to Peter and wow he’d never say that to a teacher. “So, since you’re like... next level dense and haven’t been taking MJ’s hints you want to go to prom with me or not? I’m a bit bored of waiting on you to ask.”

Holy shit this is happening. For a few seconds he’s pretty sure he’s responded but the way Tony raises his eyebrow at him suggests he only agreed in his head. “Is there like... anyone who’d actually turn you down? Because I feel like the answer is obvious,” he says eventually. He sounds more confident than he feels at least.

Tony snorts, “oh, probably not but I’m selective so. You need a blue tie to match my dress and sit with me at lunch,” Tony tells him, getting to his feet just as fluidly as he sat and walking away.

“Bro,” Ned says with meaning.

“I’m so sweaty and gross I can’t believe that happened now,” he says, earning a ‘what the fuck’ look from Ned and yeah he needs to get his priorities straight but also.

*

Peter has no idea when the hell any of this happened but Tony seems content to fill him in on the details and that involves him sitting in Peter’s lap and he is fine with that. He wraps his arms around Tony’s waist, happily listening to him go on an animated rant about the near detention he got for the whole gym scene while MJ laughs.

“I told you that you’d get in shit,” she says.

“Oh my god, I sat in a dude’s lap, that’s not a fucking crime! Anyway, Rhodey once told me I could argue the hair off a dog so I figured I would put my talents to the test and the principal literally said it wasn’t worth his time to argue with me so now I don’t have detention,” he says, grinning.

“You’re the best,” Peter says, so lost in his glow of Tony that he doesn’t even realize how stupid that sounds.

Tony takes to it fine though, perking up and grinning, “I know.”

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #fanfiction #prom au

[prider-parker-imaginations]

𝕃𝕖𝕥 𝕌𝕤 𝔹𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖

Title: Let Us Be Brave

Characters: Tony Stark + Gender Neutral!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Endgame spoilers, general self-doubt

Prompt: Suicide Mission by Jack Wall (Mass Effect 2 OST) also very loosely elements of The Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: my submission for @whistlingwillows​ 1.5k writing challenge (go follow her, she’s lovely and her writing is *chef’s kiss*) squeaking in just under the wire because 2020 has been an absolute mess on pretty much every level but your boy wasn’t about to just give up completely 

“You okay, kiddo?”

It took a moment to blink away the fog of your own thoughts at Happy’s question. “Pardon?” For a brief moment, you had thought it was Tony in the car with you before reality set in once more.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, eyes flicking towards yours in the rearview mirror.

“Just thinking,” you let your gaze drift back to the buildings slipping past beyond the car window. The world had changed so much, and you hadn’t been there to see it. The streets were familiar and yet they weren’t. You were out of sync with the rest of a world that hadn’t stopped moving in your absence. Things were different now. The balances had shifted and you couldn’t help but sense the winds of change whistling through the trees. The world had changed in an all too tangible and all too irreversible way, heedless of those struggling to find their footing.

You could still recall the first time you’d taken this route with Happy, heading towards an uncertain future. You’d been nervous then too. Facing change had always been daunting. You doubted you would ever get used to just throwing yourself headlong into the future. Back then, you’d known whatever lay ahead had to be better than what you were leaving behind. Now, you weren’t so certain. By all accounts, the world was fuller than it had ever been since everyone had been brought back. 

So why did it feel so empty?

Probably because of the empty seat next to you that had been filled the first time you’d come this way.

The last time you had looked to an uncertain future, you had done it with Tony at your side. You had done it with the promise of guidance and support and the knowledge that you were following in the footsteps of those who had braved the trail before you. But things were different now. Now it was going to be up to you to make the hard decisions. It would be up to you to take the steps that everyone else was afraid to take, to make mistakes and own up to them and learn from them on your own. 

It was your turn to be the next Tony Stark.

And you were terrified.

You can do this, kid.

“Are you sure this is what he would have wanted?” you asked, rubbing the sweat from your palms onto your pant legs.

“Tony recruited you for a reason.”

You looked away as you passed another gold and crimson mural painted on a building wall, frowning at your hands. You knew Tony had recruited you for a reason. It was just hard to believe that this would have been the reason he had in mind when he’d asked you to start training as an Avenger. There had always been the assumption that if something happened to him, there were others to take his place, others who were leagues more qualified than you. But so many were gone now or on their own paths that no longer followed yours. “What if I’m not ready?”

There was a beat of silence from the front seat. “If we waited until we felt ready to do everything, we’d never do anything. I don’t think life is about being prepared. It’s about being willing to take the first step.”

You let out a snort, leaning your temple against the glass again, “So you’re a chauffeur, a bodyguard, and a therapist now?”

“Tony hired me for a reason too, kiddo.”

“Touché.” You drew in a breath and let it out again, the brief moment of brevity fading quickly. “What if I screw up?”

“Do you think Tony didn’t screw up? Of course he did, we all do. What was important was that he kept trying. He kept learning. No one’s expecting you to be perfect.”

“But what if-”

“Ask enough what ifs and they’ll eat you alive.” You shut your mouth sharply at Happy’s words, cheeks heating up. His eyes caught yours again and he continued, a tad gentler this time. “Do you remember when Tony first recruited you?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not meeting his gaze through the mirror. “Of course I do.” You felt like a petulant child.

“You were scared then too, right?”

You pursed your lips, “I mean, yeah.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“That was different!”

“How?”

“I-” you shut your mouth, trying to reign in your thoughts and emotions before they got too far out of your control. “Tony was there.”

“And what did he say?”

“That... that he was giving me a chance to help people. To be part of something bigger than just me.”

“Has that changed?”

“No, but-”

“But what?”

You stared at your shoes, the words feeling impossibly heavy on your tongue. “He didn’t expect me to lead anyone. What if people ask me what to do and I don’t have an answer?”

“Then you rely on your gut and you rely on your team. And when you mess up, you pick yourself back up and you do better next time, same as always. You’re not alone out there. Your team’s got your back. And when you ever need a pep talk, your chauffeur slash bodyguard slash therapist is always here.”

You offered a tight-lipped smile that you didn’t quite feel in your chest, wishing you could internalize his confidence. So much hung in the balance. So much would be resting on your shoulders. Tony had given everything to defeat Thanos, to bring you back and give everyone another chance. You desperately wanted to make his sacrifice worth it, to prove that his faith in you hadn’t been misplaced. 

But what if you couldn’t?

You rubbed the pad of your thumb over the scarring on your palm. It seemed to be a new nervous habit since the battle with Thanos. The injuries you’d sustained had put you out of commission longer than many of the others so it had taken longer to get back into the loop. It made the prospect of seeing the others again all the more intimidating. You drew in a breath and let it out again slowly as the compound came into view to calm the spike of dread driving itself deeper and deeper into your stomach. You had known this moment was coming for weeks and you still felt ill-prepared. 

Happy’s hand found its way to your shoulder as you stood before the entrance. “You’ve got this.”

The first time you had done this, it had been Tony putting his hand on your shoulder and telling you it would be alright.

You can do this, kid.

You steeled yourself and pushed open the doors.

You moved on autopilot through the facility, feet retracing familiar halls that hadn’t felt your presence in over five years. Familiar, yet not. Comforting, yet not. Home, yet not. You were aware of Nick Fury speaking to you, but his words seemed to just wash right off of you. You wondered if he felt as out of sync as you did.

And then you were standing in front of your team, or at least what was left of it. The absence of so many familiar faces felt like a punch to the gut. Some had died, others had moved on, some were wrapped up in their own lives and efforts to move on. The Avengers as the world had known them had changed. 

And now, many of them expected you to guide them.

You swallowed, gripping the railing in front of you as you looked down at them, the words sticking in your throat. You weren’t ready. It should have been Tony or Steve addressing them, not you. You didn’t belong up here. You were too young, too inexperienced, too unprepared to take on the weight of so many worlds, of so many people, and so many dreams. You had seen so little compared to some of the others. Why would they listen to you? But when you looked at their faces, you found no judgement. You saw trust, determination, even hope. And for a moment it was almost as if you could feel Tony’s hand on your shoulder and the faint echo of his voice in your ears.

You can do this, kid.

So you let out a breath and the words began to come, shaky at first, but gradually gaining confidence.

One step after another.

“I shouldn’t be up here. I shouldn’t be here at all. And I wouldn’t be, if not for the sacrifice of those who paved the way for us. Tony and Natasha, even Vision, they gave up everything to fix the world, and now it’s our job to see their mission through. To protect and maintain the world they fought for, the world they died for. The world is... bigger than it used to be. There are things out there that go beyond our understanding. We’re facing threats unlike any we’ve ever known before. It’s up to us to be ready for them. To make their sacrifice worth it. We’ve lost a lot, but it’s our responsibility to keep fighting. It won’t be easy, but we were all chosen for a reason. Even if I don’t believe in me, I still believe in all of you, and maybe that’s enough. We can do this.”

I’ll be right there with you.

#hayleys1.5kwc #one-shot #one shot #writing challenge #avengers #endgame #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #tony stark #gender neutral #happy hogan #happy #avengers endgame #better late than never #writing is hard and i'm a trash man #I should honestly preface all my writing with apologies at this point #I was going for a kind of uncertain but determined vibe #idk if it worked but fingers crossed #now i'm very tired so i'm going to go have some ice cream