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triscribeaucollection · 11 months

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Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air.

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...

#marvel #avengers infinity war #fix-it fic #peter parker #ben parker #tony stark #irondad's gonna have a hard time in this one #I haven't figured out the happy ending yet hence my cliffhanger there #but I'm sure Peter will be fiiine. Eventually.#wip

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irondad-defensesquad · 2 months

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If you're going to shoot somebody, shoot me!

Also posted on AO3!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - near death, past character death, major character injury, and implied suicidal thoughts.

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

“... You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, kid. You’re going to be okay…”

It sounds like a mantra. A broken, tearful mantra.

Two bigger, calloused hands are holding his. They’re not holding too tightly, but they’re afraid to let go or let Peter know how badly they tremble.

Peter’s stomach hurts. It’s not unbearable but he’s aware there’s a bandage there.

The room isn’t bright but not completely dark, either. There’s only a soft lamp illuminating the room. Peter at first believes he’s in his room, but it looks more like the medical facility of the tower. It’s not entirely a hospital room, as it has big windows and the walls aren’t white, so it’s less disturbing.

If not for the ongoing mantra, everything is silent.

Grunting, Peter squeezes the hands watching over him.

“... kid?” The other voice breaks out of its trance.

The teen turns to the side.

“Hey, Mr. Stark…” Peter takes a while to analyze his mentor’s face. Once he does, he frowns. “Are you okay?”

Tony looks awful. His eyes are bloodshot and haunted. He looks at Peter like he’s a ghost, and he can’t believe the boy is talking to him. Now that Peter thinks of it… what happened? What brought them here? Why is Tony so devastated? This isn’t the first time Peter got hurt on patrol, even if it always freaks Tony out.

The older man sighs, trying hard not to cry more, looking away from Peter but the lamp in the room only highlights the unshed tears.

“... I should be asking you that.”

His voice is painfully quiet.

“This guy came out of nowhere with a gun… I was obviously the target. But when I heard the shot, you were bleeding on the floor. And that bastard ran away,” Tony narrates, growling, wishing he could kill the person who shot Peter. In the end, he’s too miserable for that. "And we were just hanging out. You didn't have the suit." Tony's voice breaks at the last words.

His memory is mostly a haze, but Peter slowly remembers a few disconnected pieces.

The moment his spider-senses screamed.

When he heard the trigger.

Peter doesn’t remember anything after that, other than the noise and the blurs that followed.

Indeed, they were just spending time together as common people. Peter can faintly smell the burgers and fries they were eating before everything fell apart. Might be coming from Tony’s clothes. And Peter smells the blood, too.

Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, then.

He was just Peter.

And his Parker luck would have cursed him again. Tony would’ve paid for it. Thankfully, his mentor is not the one in this bed.

But Peter definitely hates the sight of Tony mourning him like never before. And the worst part is, Tony is not even angry at Peter. He’s not lecturing him for being reckless again. Tony is terrified, because they were just being themselves. Like he said, Peter didn’t have his suit, he didn’t have his webshooters. He had nothing. Only his love for Tony, that screamed louder than everything else.

(That, and his younger self yelling at him to do the right thing.)

Tony tries to swallow his sobs, as well as his anger. He looks like he wants to punch the wall. Or maybe himself. Tony isn’t just angry at the man who shot Peter. He’s angry at himself for not getting shot instead.

Peter squeezes his hands again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

Sure, his stomach hurts, but again, he can bear it.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony sniffs.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But I’m gonna be okay, Mr. Stark."

Peter smiles at him. That only makes Tony’s dams collapse.

The latter approaches, kissing the former’s forehead for a good couple of seconds, reminding both of them that Peter is alive. Then, Tony’s forehead is touching his, some of his tears falling against Peter.

Tony must have so many things to say. Mainly apologies.

Peter can hear all of them.

Eventually, the teenager scoots to the other side to free some space. Tony sighs in relief and exhaustion, joining Peter. He’s very careful, keeping some distance between them, especially as he eyes where the bandage is hiding Peter’s gunshot wound.

“Does it hurt?” Tony asks.

“Not really.”

Peter is usually the one who was designated with “puppy eyes”, but Tony’s are definitely looking that way, too.

“Were you scared?” The man wonders.

The teenager hums.

“Actually… I don’t think so,” he replies honestly. “I felt like I was at peace. Like… I finally did the right thing, what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Peter realizes he should’ve probably not said this to his grieving mentor. The silence around them grows much, much heavier. Tony is absolutely silent, but his horror speaks volumes.

“... But that’s not really true, right?” Peter backs up. “I wouldn’t have brought anyone back. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Or maybe things would’ve been worse.”

If Tony is already traumatized beyond relief for nearly losing Peter, the latter doesn’t want to imagine what the former would actually do without him. Peter knows how much Tony lost at this point, and if he had to deal with yet another loss…

“I’m sorry I scared you, Mr. Stark,” he apologizes.

Tony would’ve probably joked about the amount of gray hair he’s been getting because of Peter, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that right now. Tony closes their distance, wrapping at least an arm around the other.

“... thank you,” Tony says. For saving my life. Which might mean many different things.

Peter smiles again. It’s usually the other way around, but he’s the one cupping Tony’s cheek and drying his tears for him.

“I love you,” the boy tells him.

With that, Tony is pulling him closer to hug him, still making sure he won’t hurt Peter.

“I love you, too.” He might squeeze a little. “You’re my kid."

Peter, for once, sheds a couple tears.

Tony lets him know that May will come visit in the morning. Hopefully, Peter will be free to go tomorrow. He wonders if he can stay over with Tony on the weekend, which his mentor approves. Tony, admittedly, doesn’t sound very focused as he holds Peter and doesn’t let go for absolutely anything.

Peter knows what he must be thinking. How he wishes he could protect him from all the harm in the world. He knows he can’t, but right now, Tony just wants to pretend he can.

In the end, they’re at least glad they’re still here, and they’re together.

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #drabble #(i guess?)#this one is very angsty sorry #tony cries a LOT here #idk if that's ooc #but he's scared

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years

Text

Bleeding Out, part 2

Summary: Wanda kicks Thanos around, Steve time travels, Natasha returns 💖

Word count: 3078

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Bleeding Out Masterlist

“Clint! Where's Tasha?” she asks, god give him the strength for this.

He stares at her a moment, not quite knowing how to say this or even if he could. His silence speaks volumes to the Sokovian, as does his expression.

He looked at me like that when Y/n died…no. “No, please no. She can’t be gone, not her too.”

“I’m so sorry…I tried…tried so hard to keep her alive. She sacrificed herself so we could bring everyone back.” he states between sobs

She screams and her world goes silent, if the archer said anything more she doesn't hear him. All she can hear is her heart breaking, shattering more than she even thought possible. Natasha was her everything, quite literally, was all she had left. Her parents. Her brother, Pietro. Her girlfriend, Y/n. Her friend, Vision. And now her girlfriend, Natasha. All taken from her, cruelly. Someone had to pay for it. No, not someone, just him.

Before Clint could even try to comfort her she flies off, angrier than he’d ever seen her. Sadder too. He knew where she was going and he knew she could win. Give him hell Wanda. For Nat.

She lands in a cloud of dust and swirls of red magic. Her eyes aglow, the pain she feels feeds her hatred for Thanos beyond anything she's ever felt.

“You took everything from me.” she tells him

“I don’t even know who you are” he scoffs

She tilts her head, “You will.”

She levitates, hurling massive chunks of debris at him. He slices through them as if they were paper. She tosses orbs of her magic at him, causing him to stumble but still he does not submit. Instead he swings his sword at her, she catches it with her magic but he pushes against her, confident he can overpower his enemy. But she sends his sword flying from his grasp, one blade now broken before she hurls him into the sky. Tearing bits or armor from him, crushing other pieces.

His defeat is upon him, he can sense it, but he will not allow it. “Rain fire!” She attempts to block the blast but it sends her flying through the air and away from the Mad Titan. Her blood boils in anger for him and his army. The rest of the battle is a blur for her, her powers consume any enemy in her way.

They end up winning, but the cost was high, Tony and Natasha. Her beautiful beloved Natasha, both gone now, both heroes who sacrificed everything for a cruel miserable world that didn’t deserve them. She breaks down then, everything feels too heavy. Like she's bearing the weight of the world on her back and finally it's cracked.

Clint knows it’s not the weight of the world on her back, but the weight of the grief on her chest. He scoops her up, puts her in a car and takes her away from the battlefield, away from anything that may consume her and brings her back to Tonys cabin. He sits down with her by the waters edge and lets her cry. Her hands clutch at his chest as her sobs wreck her, and Clint cries with her.

Once she's exhausted herself of tears he carries her inside and up to the spare bedroom where Pepper waits. She changes Wanda into more comfortable clothes before tucking her in. Wanda is too drained to comprehend what was going on so she doesn't thank her, but Pepper understands, because if it wasn’t for Morgan she would be in the same place Wanda is.

“Thanks Pepper. We’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, I’ll take her to the farm. Being with me, Laura and the kids will hopefully help.” he tells her as he snuggles up on the sofa

“Of course Clint. I’m sure it will help, to a degree. It won’t fix how she feels though.” she tells him

“I know…I’m sorry about Tony. He was a good man.” he says

She nods, “He was the best.”

Clint awakes the next morning far too early, to use the restroom, a small commotion outside gains his attention. Seems Bruce, Bucky, Sam and Steve plan on doing some time traveling. He better look into this.

“Morning fellas. What uh, what's going on?” he questions

Steve quickly checks behind the man, “The girls still asleep?”

“I would hope so, it’s only five in the morning.” he answers, “Now answer my question, gramps. What are you guys doing?”

“Steves returning the stones, to the time and place they belong.” Bruce answers

Clint harbors no love for these stones, but he can’t help but feel a small tug in his chest at the thought of not being able to see that small amber stone ever again. A soul for a soul. That's what the floating creep had said to them, and when he held that stone, it was like he could feel Natasha. To be rid of it, was to be rid of the last bit of her. He didn’t like that idea very much, but he liked the idea of keeping the stone even less. It wasn’t her, not really, not in the way that he wanted or in a way that mattered.

“Can I just see her- it, one last time?” he asks, voice cracking with sadness

Steve knows the one he is referring to, he picks up the case and pops it open. Gently he picks the amber one up and hands it to the archer. Clint holds it in his palm, gazing at it as if it might really be her, but it's not. It’s only a rock with the power to bring untold misery. He curls his fingers around it as his tears fall. He squeezes it in his grasp, like it somehow would crack open and magically Nat would appear in front of them. He knew that wouldn't happen, but a man can dream right?

“Have a safe trip Cap.” he solemnly says, handing back the amber stone before turning to return to the cabin and the sofa

“Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?” Bucky asks after Clints out of earshot

“Because we have no guarantees this will work. I don’t want to get anyones hopes up, especially since they are trying to grieve right now. A failure would only make things worse.” Steve replies

“Ready Cap?” Bruce asks

He nods, grabbing the case and stepping up on the platform. His helmet covers his head and he nods to the large green scientist, “See you guys soon.”

Then he's there, his first stop. The compound minutes before his great ‘whatever it takes’ speech, stupid speech cost him a dear friend and the following battle cost him another. But now they were right there with his past self, getting ready to save the world. He clears his throat, gaining their attention. Everyones weapons point to him, suspicious of two Steves.

“Easy.” he says

“Who the hell are you?” past Steve questions

“You. About three days older.” he replies

“Prove it.” Clint states

Steve holds up the case and opens it, showing off all six stones to the stunned heroes before him.

“So it works then, we win?” Nat asks and he finds tears in his eyes at her voice

“We end up fighting Thanos again but yes, we win. We bring everyone back.” he tells them

“I sense a ‘but’ coming, because if you win then why come back to the past?” Tony says

“Because I came to see my friends, and hopefully bring them back home.” he admits

There's a silence as the heroes take in what the man says. Some of them don’t make it, that's what future Steve is saying. Their eyes glance around the room at each other wondering who they lose, all but one afraid to ask.

“Who?” Rocket questions

“Hm?” Steve asks, caught a bit off guard

“Who doesn't make it?” Rocket clarifies

Steves eyes fall to the floor, “Vormir requires a sacrifice in order to get the soul stone-”

“It was me, right? Tell me I did it.” the archer asks

Steve smiles sadly, “You certainly tried, she wasn’t going to let you though.”

“Oh.” The Russian breathes out, “Then when Wanda comes back, she's alone?”

“She is. She nearly killed Thanos all on her own for it. But she's miserable Nat.” he admits

She smirks, “That's my girl,” her brows furrow in thought for a moment, “I don’t want her to be alone and I can’t say I’m looking forward to dying either, but if I leave won’t it change the outcome?”

“If taking the stones from the past didn’t change anything, then this shouldn't either. At least that's what Bruce told me.” he answers

She nods and looks around to her friends, all of them affected by the news of her death. The looks on their faces tell her to go, to live, to be with Wanda.

“Ok, I’ll go with you.” she tells him, walking over to join him. He smiles, glad to have her back by his side.

“We lost more than just Nat though, didn’t we?” Thor asks

Steve nods, “Tony, you saved us all. You used the stones and snapped to rid us of Thanos and his army. But it caused injuries that were unsurvivable.”

“My girls, how are they handling it?” he asks

“Pepper is strong, she has Happy and Rhodey to help her through it but she misses you so much. Morgan is struggling to understand that you aren’t coming back.” he answers

“The kid, Peter, he comes back?” he asks

“He does, and he's one hell of a kid. He's a wreck without you.” Steve tells him

He sighs, “Well then, that settles it. Can’t have my family being all depressed without me. Let’s go Cap.”

“Glad to hear it. The two of you really don’t know how much we’ve missed you. Before I can take you home, we have these to return.” he says, the three of them head off

Vormir, 2014

“Geez, what a welcoming planet.” Tony annonces upon their arrival

Steve nods, “Clint did say it lacked charm.”

“I died here? Great, charming really.” Nat says, looking around

“Let me guess you’d prefer dying in an avalanche or explosion, something cool. Am I close?” Tony teases, causing her to glare at him

“Shh. We aren’t alone here.” Steve says, stopping their banter

“Welcome. Tony, son of Maria. Steve, son of…a bitch. And as for you, Natasha, daughter of Ivan..I just watched you fall.” the stonekeeper says

“How do you know my moms name?”

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

She shrugs, “Different daughter of Ivan.”

“I know everyones name, I am cursed to guard the stone thanks to my failure at your hands Rogers, and impossible. Ivan had but one daughter.” the stonekeeper replies

“It doesn't matter how she's here. What matters is the soul stone and since you're apparently its guardian, here.” Steve says retrieving the stone from its case and handing it to the perplexed keeper before signaling it was time the three moved on

Morag, 2014

“Who's the unconscious idiot?” Nat asks, stepping over Quill

Steve waves her off, “Not important at the moment.”

“Right. Sorry.” she replies as the three of them head into the temple where they replace the power stone in the orb before leaving

Asgard, 2013

“Holy shit.” Tony exclaims

“No wonder Loki was so…”

“Entitled?” Nat offers

“That's one word for him.” Tony jokes

“Excuse me.” a womans voice suddenly says, startling all of them, even Natasha who hadn't heard the woman, “I’ll take that from you now.” she says pointing to the reality stone

“Thor said you might offer help.” he says, handing over the stone

She simply smiles at them, “Best be off, three mortals are very noticeable here.”

“Right, of course ma’am.” he replies

“Just Frigga will do. Give my son, my love.” she says as the three move on

Camp Lehigh, New Jersey, 1970

“Wait, why are we here to return the space stone? I thought we were grabbing it in New York with the mind and time stones.” Tony asks

“Well, things didn’t go according to plan. Oh, and Peggy and Howard are here so-”

“My dads here?” Tony says, looking around suddenly as if the man might sneak up from behind them

“Yes and future you already had one awkward run in and talk with him, so let's try not to do it again.” Steve tells him before turning to Nat, “Think you can put these back without being noticed?”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m a Russian assassin and spy, tell me where they go.”

New York, 2012

“Wait, are we really going to hand the mind stone off to HYDRA?” Tony asks

“Yes, remember we’re going forward to 2023, all of this will already be dealt with by then.” Steve replies

“So wheres the time stone go?.” Nat asks

“Sanctum Sanctorum.” he replies

“Stranges place?” he asks, Steve nods, “Well why don’t the two of you return the mind stone and I’ll return the time stone to save, well, time.”

“Alright, here. Just be-”

“Careful with it. I got this Cap.” he says with a smug grin before heading off

The other two head into the tower avoiding everyone they can. As far as Steve can tell they're only four doors away now so it should go smoothly. He turns to tell Nat exactly that when laughter from down the hall grabs her attention.

“Y/n…” she whispers as Steve shoves her and himself into the nearest doorway. He leaves the door slightly ajar letting them see when the people who could spot them pass by

“I can’t believe Steve actually helped you up onto one.” you say with a chuckle

“Honestly me either.” 2012 Nat replies

“How did you drive, er, pilot it?” you ask

“Very carefully.” you give her a look, “Ok fine, I had knives in the aliens shoulder blades to help me control it.”

“That sounds more like you.” you say with a laugh as you both pass the slightly ajar door and head on down the hall

Natasha watches fondly, a sad smile on her face, “That's when I knew I was starting to have feelings for her. When I found her after everything that had happened that day I was so relieved. I wish we could have gotten more time with her.”

Steve takes a moment to look at this friend, tears run down her face and he can tell it's taking everything in her to not run after you. To hug you and hold you and never let go of you again. So he decides, it was only fair. He came back to grab the heroes that died and damn it Y/n was one of those heroes. He’d talk to Bruce, he’d come back for you.

With all the stones returned they can finally head home. The look of joy on Buce, Sam and Buckys faces when they see three people standing on that platform was something Steve will never forget.

Present Day, 2023

“The girls and Clint are in the cabin-” is all he gets out before the two take off

Tony practically tears the front door from its hinges as he enters, a startled Clint falls off the sofa and hits his head.

“Damn you Tony” he grumbles as the inventor runs by heading up the stairs to see his wife and daughter. It’s then the archer realizes what he said, “Tony?!” he says before sitting up only to gaze into those emerald eyes of his best friend

“What, no hello for me?” she teases

Hes up and hugging her before she can say anything else. She whispers sweet phrases in his ear as he cries. Finally he lets go, “How?”

“Steve came and got us from the past. He said Wanda's back, where is she Clint?” she asks eager to see the woman she's missed for five years

He leads her through the house until they come to the guest bedroom door, he knocks loud enough to wake her, “It’s me Wanda. I’m coming in ok? I have a surprise for you.” he says opening the door

“I don’t want a surprise” she grumbles, her back facing them as she lies in bed

Nat walks into the room, within arms reach of the bed, “You sure?”

Wanda bolts up in bed, tears fill her eyes at hearing the other womans voice. Please don’t let this be a dream. She thinks as she turns around to find her girlfriend standing there with her own tears in her eyes

“Hi” she manages before the Sokovian tackles her in a hug.

They fall to the floor together but Nat doesn't mind, she just sits there holding the younger woman as she cries into her chest. Clint watches for a moment before he closes the door, intent on heading home to greet his own family who he had simply talked to over the phone instead of going to see straight away because he couldn’t leave Wanda alone and Laura had understood once he explained.

“I thought I lost you too.” Wanda cries into Nats chest, she runs a soothing hand through her hair

“I’m right here now dorogoy(sweetheart). Five years without you was hell.” she admits

“One day without you was hell, I can’t imagine five years. I’m so sorry Tasha.” She says looking up at her girlfriend

“It’s not your fault. I’m just so glad I have you back.” she says before connecting her lips to Wandas. They share a slow passionate kiss, both enjoying having the other by their side once more.

“I’m definitely not complaining, but how are you here?” the witch asks

“Steve. He went back in time to grab me and Tony. Then we went with him to return the stones to their proper places in time.” Nat explains

Wanda can tell Nat has something on her mind “What is it moya lyubov'(my love)?” she asks, cupping her cheeks

“When we went back to 2012, I saw Y/n…leaving without her, it’s like losing her all over again.” she admits, a few tears escaping

Wanda gives her a sad smile, “Oh Tasha, I miss her too. So much.”

They hadn’t noticed the door open while they were talking, Steves voice startled them slightly, “I have a solution for that.”

#natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda x natasha #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x reader

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derangedrhythms · 2 years

Note

Do you have any quotes regarding unattractiveness, undesirablilty and loneliness?

'Alone' by Edgar Allan Poe

"my lonely life around me like a moor,"

— Anne Carson, from 'The Glass Essay'

‘Hateful day when I received life!’ I exclaimed in agony. ‘Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.’

"I saw no cause for their unhappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched."

— Mary Shelley, from 'Frankenstein'

"—it is a little thing to say how lone it is—anyone can do it, but to wear the loneness next to your heart for weeks, when you sleep, and when you wake, ever missing something, this, all cannot say, and it baffles me."

— Emily Dickinson, from 'Selected Letters'; to Susan Gilbert (Dickinson)

"this skin is sick with loneliness."

— Lucille Clifton, Splendor; from 'leda 3'

"... I let the awful clothes affect even my posture, walked around with my back bowed, my shoulders drooping, my hands and arms at awkward angles, was afraid of mirrors because they showed in me an ugliness which in my opinion was inevitable..."

— Franz Kafka, from 'The Diaries: 1910-1923', tr. Joseph Kresh & Martin Greenberg

"There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up; holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship's, smooths and contains the rocker. It's an inside kind—wrapped tight like skin. Then there is a loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive, on its own. A dry and spreading thing that makes the sound of one's own feet going seem to come from a far-off place."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Beloved'

"He is so lonely that he sometimes feels it physically, a sodden clump of dirty laundry pressing against his chest. He cannot unlearn the feeling."

"Until that point, he had never thought too specifically about his appearance. He knew he was ugly. He knew he was ruined. He knew he was diseased. But he had never considered himself grotesque. But now he was. There seemed to be an inevitability to this, to his life: that every year he would become worse—more disgusting, more depraved. Every year, his right to humanness diminished; every year, he became less and less of a person. But he didn’t care any longer; he couldn’t allow himself to.

"I worry sometimes that you’ve decided to convince yourself that you’re somehow unattractive or unlovable, and that you’ve decided that certain experiences are off-limits for you. But they’re not..."

— Hanya Yanagihara, from 'A Little Life'

"I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get."

— Charles Bukowski, from 'Ham on Rye'

"My shadow said to me: / What is the matter / Isn't the moon warm / enough for you / Why do you need / the blanket of another body [...] Aren't there enough words / flowing in your veins / to keep you going"

— Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country; from 'The Shadow Voice'

"It is the reflection of my face. Often in these lost days I study it. I can understand nothing of this face. The faces of others have some sense, some direction. Not mine. I cannot even decide whether it is handsome or ugly. I think it is ugly because I have been told so. But it doesn't strike me. At heart, I am even shocked that anyone can attribute qualities of this kind to it, as if you called a clod of earth or a block of stone beautiful or ugly."

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from 'Nausea', tr. Richard Howard

"On the couch, the cat crawls on top of me / and loves me so hard, his claws draw blood. / I am so lonely, I do nothing to stop it."

— Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, from 'Things That Happened During Petsitting That I Remind Myself Are Not Metaphors for My Heart'

"How can you love me? Look, my gums are diseased. Every tooth in my mouth is false. All the hair has been burnt off my head. My eyes are as red as a syphilitic's. My face is nothing but jagged bone. I am ugly. The ugliest of men! My nerves are shattered, my body gone sterile, my insides poisoned from tip to toe. How can you love such a wreck of a man?” […] “You are not ugly, Vincent. You are beautiful. You have tormented and tortured this poor body in which your soul is wrapped, but you cannot injure your soul. It is that I love. And when you have destroyed yourself by your passionate labours, that soul will go on... endlessly. And with it, my love for you.”

— Irving Stone, from 'Lust for Life'

"...beauty is the simple thing, ugliness is the extraordinary thing, and all ardent imaginations doubtless prefer the extraordinary thing in lubricity to the simple thing. Beauty, freshness only strike one in a simple way; ugliness, degradation deliver a much firmer blow - the shock is far stronger, the excitation must therefore be more intense."

— The Marquis de Sade, from 'The 120 Days of Sodom or The School of Libertinage', tr. Will McMorran & Thomas Wynn

#compilations #loneliness #unattractiveness #undesirability #long post

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

Note

Hello

I m new on your blog and read your work and i fell in love with your stories. I read you were interested in taking request so can you take my request too? I was wondering if you can write a steve rogers x reader, where y/n is his girlfriend and he leaves her after civil war and then they see each other in infinity war, he tries to patchup with her but she ignores him because in past he often compared her to peggy and also because she knew about him kissing sharon and she is hurt. During the fight she doesn't talks to him and when tony returns from space she still continues to ignore Steve and when he confronts her she snaps at him for hurting her for a long time. He apologizes and somehow they makeup and also him kissing sharon was misunderstanding because sharon kissed him. And then they are happy together and also in endgame the reader is worried steve will stay in past but he comes back and they get married with the team present and have kids and live happily

Happily Ever After (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it and I am open to more requests.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: Steve comes back after Civil War and you are angry with him because he left you. You do not forgive him because you thought he cheated on you and he always compared you with Peggy. But he returns from the past when he chose you over Peggy and you forgive him. You eventually get married and expand your family.

Warnings: Angst but eventual fluff.

._._._._.

He stood right there in his Captain America shield with all his former glory. Your ex boyfriend looked the same but there were some differences like he had a full grown beard and he was more muscular. He kept staring at you with longing and pain but it was not even the half of what you experienced while he was gone.

“(Y/N), you need to take the position left to Steve.” Tony pulled you out of your trance and you just stared at him when you comprehended his order. He had been there for you from the moment Steve left you after the Civil War. Sitting with you when you couldn’t sleep at night and forcefully feeding you when you spent the whole day starving. He didn’t want you anywhere near Captain but you both always worked best together and there were much more important matters at hand.

“But Tony, I can be with Steve.” As much as Rhodey wanted to be away from all of the people that were responsible for his fall, he didn’t want you to suffer. They all had seen you fall apart on the Avenger base when you realised that your boyfriend left without saying good bye to you and without an explanation. Just telling Tony on a voice message to take care of you wasn’t enough.

“I’ll be okay, Rhodey. You are needed near the buildings so if some of the aliens escape our defenses, you can be there to protect the city.”

All of the avengers kept stealing glances at the both of you because they knew that it was only a matter of time before you exploded. But they were wrong. You were not the stubborn, hot headed woman that did not let anyone walk over her. That woman died when Steve left. He took her with himself.

"Take your positions and give them hell." Steve and you made your way towards your designated place.

"(Y/N), listen to me. I-"

"Do not talk to me. We are done." Keeping your eyes trained on the path, you avoided meeting his eyes.

"But, let me explain. I did not have a choice. You sided with Tony and I couldn't tell you that we were leaving." He tried to catch up with you but you were a woman on a mission.

"I did not side with Tony, I sided with the accords. And I was working my ass off to get you all out of there and I looked like a fool in the end." He collided in you as you abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"(Y/N), I didn't know-"

"You didn't know because you never tried to contact me. I was the one who had to go through multiple trials with the government because they thought I helped you all to escape." There were tears pooling in your eyes and Steve wanted to kill himself for being the cause. "I was benched for four months, for Gods sake."

You are reminded of those horrible times when you didn't know what your next step was going to be. The others tried to help you but you had to suffer through all the criticism alone. Some days you just wanted to leave it all behind and start a new life. But you weren't a coward. You wouldn't let anyone run over you like this and ruin your life. Getting back up was tough but you managed it. The day that you were allowed back on the field was the day that you decided you were not going to let anyone ruin your life.

"(Y/N), I made a mistake and I missed you so much." He tried to touch you but you flinched. A look of hurt passed his eyes and retracted his hands.

"Let's just fight. I want to kick some ass." The war crafts soon landed and you all got to fight. You had to admit that Steve was one of the best teammate that you had. He knew when to defend you and when to let you attack. You were busy fighting two of the aliens when one came from the back. Steve saw it and immediately came to your defense. You were never going to admit it but you missed this.

When the fight ended, you both made your way towards the main compound and saw all the avengers gathered together. Steve and you only had minor cuts throughout your body but nothing major. The moment you saw what all the commotion is about, your breath hitched. It was Tony with half of his skin burnt and taking his last breath.

Kneeling down beside him, you started crying. "Hey, it's okay. Just be happy and do not hold on to old grudges. Take care of family for me, please." Pepper was beside you and she started crying harder when she heard him. "Steve, come here for a second."

"I am so sorry for everything. You will always be my friend, Stark."

"We both were in the wrong, Cap. For what it's worth, do not lose (Y/N) because she is the best thing that has happened to you."

Tony was on his last breaths now and you both moved aside because Pepper wanted to have some last moments with him. There were some rifts in the team since the civil war but at this moment, you all were in this together. Tony was the one who brought you all together and saved many of you from your abusive lives. He was your best friend and you didn't know how you would spend your life without his sarcastic comments and his new inventions.

"You go, Tony. We are going to be okay. I love you." The words that left Pepper were a mere whisper but because of the pin drop silence, you were able to hear her.

"I love you too," Uttering his last words, he finally closed his eyes and all that could be heard were Pepper's wails of agony. Everything after it was a blur; the med bay, the briefing, the funeral. Time seemed to pass you by and you were numb the whole time. It was like a large piece of your heart was torn away from you and you didn't know how to react.

"(Y/N), can we talk?" Natasha lightly knocked on your door before you muttered a small come in. She looked around the room and noticed the lack of pictures in your room. The warmth that once radiated from your room was now gone. There were pictures of you with the team, with Steve and with Natasha. You liked to capture all the memories and it was one of the things the team loved about you.

"Hi."

"Hello. I just wanted to see how you were doing after everything."

"I am fine. Just processing everything." The loose thread on your blanket was the main focus of your attention right now.

"You don't seem fine. I know you, (Y/N)."

"No, you don't." Scoffing at her ridiculous statement, you felt anger bubbling inside your chest. "You were one of the first people who became my friend when I came to this tower. You knew I couldn't live without Chris and you. You both were my support system."

"(Y/N), I wanted to tell you everything. Believe me, I did. But we had to keep it a secret because we had to protect the other avengers as well."

"I have been listening to this reason from the past few days and I am done. I was ready to help you guys and you could have just contacted me once. I didn't know if you were dead or alive."

"I am sorry. I wanted to do it but it was never the right time. Half of the times you were surrounded by government officials. Can you forgive me?" The red head came and sat next to you on the bed.

"I can but I don't know if we can go back to the way things were."

"It's okay. We will be friends again. And as a new friend, I just want to tell you that Steve was miserable these past two years and he loves you so much."

"I don't want to talk about him, Nat. Let's go to the gym and spar."

"I am going to kick your ass as alway, (Y/L/N)."

"I have been practicing, Romanoff." You both went on to sparring and Natasha won in the end. However, the whole day you kept thinking about your ex boyfriend. He had been trying to talk to you from the past two weeks. It was hard for you to ignore him but you were now reminded of the times when he compared you with Peggy.

The small things that you did was always met with criticism like Peggy did not work in the field like this or Peggy wouldn't talk to him like a brat. Apparently, she was the mature one and you could never compare to her. Most of the times, you tried not to let the comments get to you but you were human. He might have done it unintentionally and you didn't want to hold it against him. But it hurt.

"We are going to talk today and you are not going to run away this time." He blocked you in the kitchen when you came out of your room to drink some water.

"Funny how you are saying that I am the one that is running away. Hypocrite much now, are we?"

"(Y/N), I am apologising to you because I can't live without you."

"You did so well for two years, I don't know why it is a problem now."

"I understand that you are angry with me. I wanted to be with you so bad but my duty as Captain prevented me from it." Your face was turned away from Steve but you turned towards him when you heard the words leave his mouth.

"Your job is more important than me?" Enraged, all you could see was red and you wanted to punch the daylights out of him.

"I thought it was but not anymore. You are the most important thing in my life and I don't want to lose you."

"Well, you have other women in your life so you don't need me."

"What other women?" Steve's confused gaze swept over your face when you spit those words out.

"I know about Sharon. You kissed her when we were still together. You cheated on me and I hate you for it." Pointing your fingers at his chest, you didn't realise when your voice started to rise.

Steve held your hands and pulled you close to his chest. "Sharon kissed me and I immediately backed off. I would never cheat on you."

You couldn't believe your ears right now. This was one of the things that helped you get over Steve. Believing that he cheated on you, made it a lot easier for you to despise him. Granted that never happened but it was still easier. However, he was still stuck in the past and he did not want to admit it.

"Even if Sharon is not a problem, you are still stuck in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"You are still in love with Peggy and I can not be your second choice anymore."

"Peggy has got nothing to do with this. She is dead and I love you."

"But I would have never been the one you loved if Peggy was here."

"That's not true. You both are totally different people and I love you now." Steve didn't know how to explain it to you. The things he felt for you were totally different for what he felt for Peggy. You made his breath hitch and his heart pounded whenever you smiled at him. He was so in love with you that he didn't think it was possible to love someone this much.

He knew that he compared you with Peggy before he left but at that time he was not ready to leave the past. It was unfair of him to do that to you while you tried very hard to meet all his expectations. However, he realised afterwards that you did not have to meet any of his expectations because you exceeded all of them. He felt so guilty and he just wanted to have you back in his life and forget about all the things that happened.

"I don't believe you."

"Please do. I want us to be okay before I go to return all the stones."

"You do that and then we can talk about us." He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before you could say anything. You were pretty sure that would stay back with Peggy and that's why you didn't want to reconcile things. You didn't want him to break your heart again.

"Ready to go, Cap?" Scott asked as he rechecked the time machine again. Everyone glanced at each other when he said that because they all thought that Steve might remain in the past for Peggy. They all had their doubts but everyone was scared to say them out loud. "You only have five seconds to get back before you are stuck."

"Ready." He glanced at you one last time and stepped in to the machine. You held your breath as Scott counted out loud and when he reached the number four, you were sure that he wasn't coming back. You were about to turn back when a snapping sound echoed throughout the room.

"I told you I will come back." Coming to a halt right in front of you, you couldn't believe your eyes. You pulled him in and kissed him ferociously.

"I love you."

"I love you too and remember that no one compares to you. I am really sorry."

"It's okay. You passed the test." When you both kissed again, all of your friends cheered for you.

As time passed by, you realised that Steve was the best person you could have possibly ended up. He was the literally the man of your dreams. Waking up to him every morning, cuddled up in your bed to going to bed with him kissing you goodnight. Steve made you breakfast every morning even when he was getting late and weekends were only reserved you.

The day that he proposed was still so clear on your mind. You remembered how he was nervous for a week that you thought something was seriously wrong with him. He would stutter and sweat when you got too close to him like it was a new relationship. There was a barbecue for the whole team on the compound and you all were gathered around the garden with drinks in hand. Everyone was enjoying it to the fullest when out of nowhere Steve knelt in front of you with a ring in his hand. After listening to his speech, you said yes with tears in your eyes.

"Are you ready?" Natasha asked you as she smoothed down your wedding dress that you spent months picking out.

"Yes." Pepper helped Morgan with the flower basket because the seven year old wanted to be the flower girl.

"Okay, then it's time." Walking down the aisle was worth it when you saw the adoration flicker in his eyes. He said some of the most heart warming words that had you ruining your eye makeup. It was a beautiful ceremony that only included close family and friends. You wanted a private wedding and you announced it to the world the next day. They all went crazy but the positive response was overwhelming to say the least.

Four months in to the wedding, you realised you were pregnant. Natasha was the one who sat beside when you waited for the test while Pepper brought a million of them for you. You were scared to tell him because you never discussed the possibility of having kids in detail.

"Just tell him. He is going to be ecstatic." Natasha tried to soothe you when you started crying with your face in between your hands.

"Okay. Steve will be home anytime soon."

"We should probably get going." Pepper and Natasha made their way towards the door and gently closed it.

"Hey, babe." Kissing you on the cheek, he immediately went to the washroom to take a shower.

"We need to talk."

"Sure. What's up?"

"I am pregnant." Blurting it out was not what you had planned but you couldn't think of another way. He stopped folding his armor midway and just looked at you with disbelief in his eyes.

"Are you serious? Oh my god. When did you find out? I am so happy, baby."

"I found out about an hour ago. And you are seriously happy?"

"Of course, I am. We will have a mini you or me with us in nine months. I love you, baby."

"I love you too." Keeping his hands on your stomach, he hugged you tightly and you knew that you got your happy ending. You were one of the luckiest people alive because you have a husband like Steve and now you were going to have family with him.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I love Captain America and I was happy to write a fanfiction about him. If you guys have any more request, I will be happy to write about them and message me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._.

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standingappablog · 3 years

Text

My interpretation of Toni and Shelbys relationship.

I am re-watching the wilds and I wanna talk about a few things I missed in my first viewing.

Toni

Starting off in episode one, which I think a lot of us picked up on the gay vibe from both of them, was Tonis front with shelby at the beginning of the show. All talk, and takes no shit. But you can spot her flustered moment easily when Shelby puts her hands on her shoulders and when she begins to sing (while she pees yes lol) But you can just SEE IT on her face. This quickly subsides though as not long after Toni lets a tree branch fly back in her face.

The writers also try confuse you and make you think the reason why Toni dislikes Shelby so much (at least untill episode 6 before the homophobia) is becuase of her possibly stealing her best friend away. Which of course played a part in it too.

The scenes of her looking at Martha and shelby was a common 0occurrence. You notice though, in most scenes how Martha is sort of out focus and in the backround while shelby takes up most of the shot. Indicating that shelby is the person Tonis gaze is fixed on.

I think the reason why Toni so strongly disliked Shelby in the beginning is becuase she found herself attracted to her, which she obviously didnt like. With shelby having this happy go lucky optimistic front, and all the jesus talk really clashed with her pretty pesimistic personality. Not to mention how Toni thinks Shelby is extreamly privileged,which in a lot of aspects of her life she is. Considerably more after you find out Tonis backstory. So with that knowledge of her backround you could see why she would assume her life is better than hers. I mean she is a rich white girl from texas, so her assumption wasnt unreasonable. To Toni the idea of liking someone like Shelby is unexpected for her, so she does as much as possible to push her away. Explaining why she was pretty rude to her for the first half of the series.

Along with Shelbys little “westburo baptist” moment Toni got pretty angry (rightly so) and this probably solidified the irationality of thease feelings she had for Shelby. Giving her even more of a reason to dislike her.

Despite this Toni finds it in herself to try cheer her up when the two run into each other in the woods after Shelbys biggest insecurity is revealed by leahs theories. Tonis feelings for Shelby are on view a little bit here. Beforehand she barely could interact with her without expressing her dislike for Shelby.

Though the mood shifts again after Shelby brings up the subject of her views on being gay.

Right up until shelby kisses her, Toni outwardly berates Shelby on how medieval her veiws are, and what a priveleged life she leads. She tells her on this island they are free, and Shelby takes this opportunity to show who she really is.

The kiss the two share as we all saw was in no way one sided, Toni does kiss her back. Obvioiusly this shocks Toni, as well as shelby herself. WIth shelby running off as she tries to escape what she just did with a girl who she thought hated her.

You immideatly see Toni run after her. Her feelings for this girl who Toni thought hated who she was where reciprocated. In this moment her whole attitude towards Shelby changes as she begins to understand why she is the way she is.

Shelby

Shelbys sexuality was pretty obvious to many of the LGBT viewers, we have all been there, obviously not the religious cult part, but putting up a front, hiding who we are. So it was easy to tell that she was gay from the beggining. Its also pretty common in the media to portray a closeted LGBT person like this. The question was how the writers where going to go about revealing the fact that she is gay.

You notice Shelbys attempts to be friendly towards Toni pretty early on with inviting her out to the first exhibition. Of course we all know it ends with her getting a branch to the face. But when questioned about the cut on her temple, she doesnt reveal that Toni was the one who caused it.

Though as we all know as Shelby begins to become friends with Martha, Toni becomes increasingly more hostile towards her. Probably shattering the hopes of being friends. So we see less of Shelbys perspective of the relestionship between the two from her, and more from Toni. The two become pretty bitter with each other after the shelter building contest, the tension rising pretty quickly, although it seems that Toni is always the one who initiates the fights they have. Even after Toni destroys the hut and storms off, Shelby goes to find her and still tries to have a friendly conversation, possibly she went to comfort her, but of course we know from watching Toni interact with those around her she only initates in deep conversation with those she trusts, and the weird feelings she has for Shelby probably didnt help.

Fast forward to episode six and Shelby has her little moment when the others are joking around with the shellfish. Of course this one isnt as subtle as previous scenes but it shows Shelbys internalized homophobia.The gestures Toni demonstrated made her uncomfortable becuase she knew thats who she was, the idea of being gay freaked her out, so she did the only thing to stop it. To lash out and reveal how she truely felt about herself. She proably never intended on revealing this, becuase really she doesnt hate the fact that Toni is gay. She hated the fact that she is gay herself. This probably shattered any hope of frienship with Toni after this incedent. (She also mentioned to martha afterwards that she knew it would happen, this revealation pushed everyone away from her considerably for the rest of the season)

When everyone begins to get sick, we see Shelby desperatly trying to prove to everyone and Toni that, she doesnt hate her. Ofcourse we knew by now that the two felt something for each other. In a way this was Shelbys feelings acting out. Her romantic feelings yes, but mostly guilt.Ignoring the others offers to let them give her the pill, instead she desperatly overcomes Tonis pride. Making her take the pill forcably, so that she would stay alive.

Just before the two share their first kiss, shelby finally opens up about how miserable she finds her life. Toni as we know with a troubled backround claims that she cant “out sad” her. The only thing that Toni has that Shelby doesnt is freedom. Toni seeing the solution around them points out she is more free than ever and that moment you see the contemplation in her face, you can almost see whats going on in her mind just before she leans in and impulsively kisses Toni.

She then runs, obviously horrified with herself. The immeanse internalised homohpbia making her feel ashamed for following her heart.

I honestly loved watching this couple come together, their chemistry and writing was great and super intriuging to watch. I am glad a rewatched it again, there was a few things I missed out on in the first veiwing becuase i was too busy chanting “kiss! kiss! kiss!” everytime they appeared on screen together. This is completley my interpretation of their releationship and how the scenes are done, I honestly could be completley wrong and they are as they are shown to be on the surface. I just really enjoy delving deep into the motives and feelings of characters I enjoy watching. :)

*Edit* My apologies if this is written bad! At the time when I wrote this I was extremely tired. I hadn't slept the night before and I was just back from a full day of school.

#The wilds #Shoni #Shelbly x toni #Toni x shelby #Toni the wilds #Shelby the wilds #Shelby Goodkind #Toni Shalifoe #Mia healey #erana james #amazon the wilds #amazon #lgbtq #gay #bisexual #lesbian

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multiplefandomfics · 3 years

Text

Relations

Pairing: Bucky x Stark!reader

Warnings: angst, soft smut, fluff, fighting

Words: 2862

“Y/N? Where are you?” no response.

“Friday? Would you be so kind as to tell me where my little sister is running around?”

“Of course, boss. She is currently sitting in the garden, reading a book.”

“Thanks Friday.”

Tony headed out to talk to his sister.

“There you are. Please come inside. We have to talk.”

“Alright. I’m coming.” you smiled up at your big brother.

He was everything to you. Y/N had been born in 1990 and had not exactly been planned. A year later your parents had died and Tony was left alone with an infant. Fortunately he was wealthy enough to have nannies looking after you as long as he was still in college.

But the time you did spend together was thoroughly enjoyed. Everytime he was home he took you to the zoo, swimming or you just celebrated your lives.

All in all Tony Stark was the best brother anyone could have wanted.

Then he was kidnapped and became Iron Man. And Y/N was in the middle of it all. Tony tried to keep you away from it all but that didn’t work very well. You had begged him time and time again to make a suit for you too but he refused. Fortunately you were as technically talented as he was, copied Tony’s files for his suit, made some modifications and built it.

Yours was purple and silver instead of red and gold and it had some other nice gadgets which would probably prove useful.

When you took the first flying test outside the tower you didn’t really care that you were probably going to get caught.

And of course the moment you landed again Tony busted you.

“Y/N. What were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt.” he was worried.

“But I didn’t. You really have very little trust in my abilities. I flew didn’t I? And I used your plans and software. I even have Friday on my ears at all times.” you rolled your eyes at your brother.

“I can’t decide if I should be angry or proud.” he muttered. “I trust you and your skills but please let me ease my conscience and have a look over your work before you go flying again.” he asked.

“Alright, if that calms you down, sure.” you smiled and hugged your brother.

“So what is this about?” you asked him.

“I am throwing a party tonight to celebrate taking down the hydra base and recovering the scepter.” he beamed.

“And I am invited?”

“Of course. Wear something nice.” he instructed and left you alone in the entryway.

Y/N prepared half the afternoon for the spectacle and looked your best when evening rolled around. You hung at the bar with Natasha and Bruce, let Thor and Rhodey tell their war stories and sat around the table while everyone tried to lift Mjölnir and failed miserably.

Then suddenly a mangled Iron legion droid came walking through the door saying strange stuff and ending up attacking everyone. You were just so able to jump behind the bar and duck down. After that you promised yourself that you would never feel that helpless again. You wanted to be in the thick of it all.

When the dust settled everyone was really confused. The peacekeeping program Ultron had “killed” Jarvis and taken off into the world wide web.

“What did just happen?” Rhodey asked while Thor was on the way searching for Ultron.

After a battle with Ultron and the Maximoff twins, where everyone seemed to have lost their minds at one point or another and the Hulk destroying half a town while Tony tried to stop him, you made it out alive and had to disappear and landed with Clint’s family.

You stayed there for a while and then left for Seol to retrieve the crate with the human print inside.

In the end you had a new addition to the team and a devastating fight against machines in Sokovia.

Everyone was upset after that. Sokovia was destroyed, many civilians had died and Hulk was MIA. Thor left too to shine some light onto the appearances of the infinity stones.

You stayed at the newly built compound to start your official training with Vision, Wanda and Sam.

Some time later things escalated in Lagos with Rumlow and a biological weapon. After that everyone was suddenly afraid of Wanda although she was just as scared.

A day later you were walking through the hallways, passing some office and conference rooms on your way to the gym. You were lost in thought when you heard your brother's voice. At first you wanted to storm in and surprise him but then you heard him talking.

“She isn’t actually my sister, Steve. She’s my daughter. Y/N is my daughter. I’ve never told anyone before I couldn’t-” the rest was not heard by Y/N because you had dropped your towel and run towards your room.

The next few days you just couldn’t face your father. That was so strange to think. You never said it out loud. Y/N felt so betrayed. Why did he never tell you? Of course he had been relatively young when you were born but he still could have been honest with you. Did he not want to be seen as your father? Were you such a disappointment? And over all of that stood the question after your mother. Who was she? What happened to her? Why did she not want to meet you? All those thoughts rushed through your brain and you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that Tony didn’t want to admit the truth to you because you weren’t worth it.

The bad thoughts did not leave you alone anymore. You had nightmares and isolated yourself from everyone during the days.

Although everyone was constantly asking you what was wrong, you couldn’t tell them.

Until the day Natasha and Pepper waltzed into your room, overriding Friday’s authority.

“Hey Y/N. We noticed that you have been by yourself a lot lately, not letting anyone in anymore. So tell us, what is going on with you? You know you can trust us.” Pepper added the last part after seeing you hesitating. And finally you caved in.

“I overheard Tony and Steve talk a few days ago. He said something I need time to process for.”

“What did he say that shocked you so much?” Nat asked.

“All my life I thought he was my brother. He’s been my rock. We went through thick and thin and then I find out that he lied to me all these years.”

“What do you mean he’s not your brother?” Nat pressed further.

“He told Steve that he’s actually my father.” the girls looked at you dumbfounded and it got eerie quiet.

“You sure you heard that right?”

“Of course I am sure. I’m not deaf!” you said a little enraged.

“And I gather you have not talked to him about it yet, have you?” Pepper had a calming nature especially when she put her hand on Y/N arm.

“No I haven’t. I couldn’t. What if it is somehow my fault that he didn’t tell me? What if he doesn’t consider me good enough to be his daughter?” you started to sob quietly.

“Hey, look at me Y/N. If anything it is the other way around. Under all that confident exterior he is actually very insecure and I am sure that he just didn’t want you to be disappointed to have him as a father.” Pepper ensured you.

“You really think so?” you sniffed looking up at her.

“I do. You should talk to him.” she encouraged you.

“Maybe I should tell him that I know and see how he reacts.”

But before you could go forward with your plan Friday alerted you and Nat to come to the conference room because the Secretary of defense had arrived to talk about something

The fights in Sokovia and Lagos had been PR nightmares and the government and the UN did not want to stand by anymore. The Avengers had to bow to the law and sign the Sokovia accords or they would be forced to retire. They were given a few days to think about it and talk this through.

After long discussions the team split in two. Which led to the situation at hand.

Your dad had grounded you together with Wanda after you had voiced your opinion that you thought Steve was right. Well, when Clint came to pick up Wanda you stuck to them and flew to Germany. Steve was kinda surprised when he saw you get out of the car at the airport but he thought you were old enough to make your own decisions.

Well, it ended in a really bad fight in the middle of the runway. In the end you made it out with Steve and Bucky and flew to Siberia under Steve's protest.

“So you’ve been Steve’s friend since childhood, hm?” you asked Bucky while still in the air.

“Yep. Known him forever. And you are Stark’s kid?” he asked back.

“So Steve told you. Yes it seems to be true although my whole life I thought he was my big brother. He lied to me so I’m not very happy with him at the moment. Kicking his ass has been a nice change for once.” you smiled at Bucky sadistically.

“You are a sick little thing, doll!” he laughed out loud.

You landed not much later but you had to admit the crush that had already developed towards Bucky.

And then Zemo happened and that stupid tape.

Were you the only one wondering why the hell there was a security camera in the middle of nowhere on an abandoned street exactly at that point where your grandparents car was forced to crash? And all that in the early 90’s?

Tony did not want to think rationally at that point so he started a fight against Steve and Bucky. You stood by. Too in shock to do anything. The only thing you knew was that it was not Bucky’s fault your grandparents had died but hydras.

You snapped out of your trance when Tony shot Bucky’s arm off. Then it was your moment to jump between your dad and Steve.

“Stop it, dad! Think for one moment!” he was startled for a moment because he wasn’t used to hearing you say that.

“You know?” he asked and his helmet slid back.

“Yes, I do. I overheard you and Steve the other day.” you spoke silently. “Sorry I did not talk about this with you earlier but I was just so upset about the fact that you didn’t tell me. Am I such a disappointment that you thought I wasn’t good enough to be your daughter?” you asked him with tears in your eyes.

“What? Of course not! You, Y/N, are the best thing that has ever happened to me. It was me who felt not man enough to be your dad. In the beginning when you suddenly appeared on my doorstep I panicked and thought I could have never lived up to the responsibility of a father. So I became your fun big brother to save you and me from disappointment. At some point I just felt that I had missed the point of telling you without the fear of consequences. So I stuck with the lie. I never meant to hurt you and I hope you can forgive me. I love you so much.”

That explanation was enough for you to jump into your fathers arms and hug him close.

“I love you 3000, dad. And can we now please get out of here? Bucky doesn’t deserve to die. Can you maybe see that he was controlled and hates himself as much for what Hydra made him do as you hate him? He is actually a really nice guy and like a brother to Steve and you know Steve, would he have bad friends? Also Buck needs help, physical and psychological. So please dad let us help him. He’s a war hero after all.” you finished your plaidoyer.

Your dad just stared at you but in the end took a deep breath and said: “let’s get home. I can’t do anything here.”

Outside you met King T’Challa who was holding Zemo in his grasp. He was gonna bring him to the CIA and then fly home to bury his father. He also promised to help with Bucky’s recovery because Wakanda had the most advanced technology to heal anything.

For months you stayed in Wakanda, which was pretty beautiful by the way, to maybe help Bucky recover step by step.

That’s also how you became close. You went for walks and to his therapy sessions together. The latter also because you thought you could use some talking about your life too.

At first he had wanted to go back into cryo but you had convinced him that that wasn’t necessary. In the beginning your dad had called you everyday to check in but he had stopped after a particularly annoyed outburst on your side.

“Bucky you alright?” you asked him one night after he had come home from his private session with Ayo.

When you saw his face you noticed the big tears leaking down his face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked scared this time.

Without saying a word he just walked up to you hugging you close to his chest and kissing you intently.

“You know how much I love you, right?” he whispered.

“Of course. but what happened with Ayo that has you this shaken?” you were persistent.

“I’m free, baby. She said all the trigger words and nothing happened. I’m free.” he repeated as if not believing it himself yet.

You started crying, too at that moment. You knew how much that meant to him, hell how much it meant to you. He had full control of his life back.

“I’m so proud of you babe. You deserve this so much. The past is finally behind you and we can start into a new future.”

“I love you.” he whispered into your hair and started kissing down your neck.

“Oh, okay. So that’s where you are going. Hmm, I like that. But let’s go inside first.”

You pushed him backwards until you reached the hut and inside your bed. You pushed him down and straddled his lap. He grabbed the seams of your blouse and tore it down the middle so the buttons flew in every direction.

“Someone is needy, hm?” you whispered while grinding down on his boner.

“Need you so bad.” he murmured

“You know I would give you everything. Come and take what you want. I swear I won’t break.” you kissed him intensely again before he threw you around and you landed with your back on the mattress.

The next thing he did was rid you both of your clothing. The look on his face was absolutely feral.

“Need to breed you baby. Fuck a baby in you.” he groaned and your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Gotta prepare you first.” he slurred just as he pushed a finger into your dripping wet cunt.

And the moment his tongue touched your aching clit you came with a cry. But he didn’t stop there. No. He kept on flicking your nub with his tongue and added a second finger to stretch your walls for his girth.

“Getting you nice and wet, baby.” he moaned. When he hit that particular spot you arched your back and pushed your pussy further into his face. It didn’t take long for you to come again. You drenched his face in your juices which he happily licked off of his face.

He climbed up your body and on the way nipped at your breasts and left hickies on your neck.

“I can’t hold on any longer. Gotta be inside you.” those words were the last warning before he breached your entrance and pushed his massive length inside your tight channel.

“Oh, fuck Bucky. So big. Shit.” you moaned loudly which seemed to spur him on.

He pummeled into you with all the force he could muster.

His blissed out face was all you ever wanted to see again.

His rhythm got erratic. You put your hand in his hair and coaxed him “Let go baby. We’ll be fine. I love you so much.”

That was all it took for him to lose it and he spilled deep inside you.

He collapsed on top of you and then rolled to the side, not to crush you. You winced when he pulled out.

“That was amazing.” you breathed out. “Yeah. Best sex I ever had.” he agreed.

You two lovebirds spent 6 more weeks in Wakanda. Then Bucky got his vibranium arm and you left Wakanda to go back to New York. No matter what you told yourself, you did miss your dad.

But you definitely promised to come back every time you got the chance.

#marvel #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #tony stark #fluff #fanfic #Smut #angst #wakanda #age of ultron #civil war #multi fandom

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amarriageoftrueminds · 3 years

Note

It’s been two (2) years and I still can’t wrap my mind around EG’s ending and especially around Steve and Bucky’s “goodbye” scene at the end. Needless to say, I’ve rewatched and analysed every single frame of that scene countless times and you know what? There are instances where Steve does look upset, almost sad, like he doesn’t really want to leave. Is it me being delusional? Probably, almost surely. Do I think that’s not all it was when it comes to that scene? Yes, and I won’t know peace until someone in some way, in any way really, retcons that awful ending, because now (with what they established in Loki) they have the chance to f—ing fix the mess they made in EG.

I don't think you're imagining it.

Given what the Rat and the writers have said about this being a happy ending for Steve, the performances of the people tasked with portraying that don't really tally at all.

I think what you have with that scene is a clear-cut case of Cevans and Stan being monumentally pissed off with what they're expected to act out (and not informed of it before the day, in Stan's case, so he doesn't have time to push back; spoilers my ass, they wanted to make sure nobody could object.)

They're clearly reciting the words as written but giving the emotions of what they, as two actors who know their characters very well, think they would feel, even if it doesn't match with the dross on the page.

(This is why they both come alive in the moments of handing the shield over to Mackie; because that, they can get on board with. The difference when they're handling material they agree with is startling!)

Steve looks pissed off, Bucky looks miserable.

One good thing about the multiverse, it gives us multiple options to explain wtf was wrong with Steve that whole movie.

I was saying on twitter that EG is supposed to tie up Steve's arc in the Avengers movies, only they were too hyper-fixated on Tony in every Avengers movie to give Steve any kind of arc... so at the end they realise they have nothing to tie off so pull sth out of their ass.

A1: Steve sad being alone in the future + pissed off w/ Tony

A2: Steve wanting to go find Bucky + pissed off w/ Tony + cut scene mentions retirement + explicitly tells Tony he doesn't want a white picket fence life

A3: obviously, should be Steve retiring + non-picket-fence-life + Bucky

Add in the heart of his first two Cap movies (and the reason why WS is the best; because it doesn't have other non-important characters trying to steal focus, so the Bucky stuff is given the air it needs to breathe.) Is Bucky.

So if you lay out the Cap / Avengers movies it goes:

C1: Bucky!, Nazis bad

A1: (Lonely in future)

C2: Bucky, new friends, Nazis bad, Peggy says move on

A2: (pissed off with Tony / wants to retire / find Bucky)

C3: (breaks from Tony / wants to retire / found Bucky!)

A3: (happy without Tony! / retired! / Bucky!)

A4: (sad without Tony?? happy without Bucky?? fine without friends?? Nazis funny? Peggy?!?)

Endgame doesn't tie up any of what went before and directly contradicts most of it.

#hey nonny #long post #toAyourQ #dat's me #endgame steve is a skrull #antiendgame #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #chris evans #sebastian stan #MCU #meta #yet each man queues the thing he loves

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amoristt · 3 years

Text

Don't Go | Peter Parker

anon: how about a peter parker scenario where the reader is also an avenger and dies from the thanos snap instead of peter, so they turn to dust in his arms? GIMME THE ANGST PLZ

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

c/w: death ment, endgame spoilers

want to support me? heres my kofi!

For a brave moment, there was calmness. The distant sound of fire, the seldom silence of a raging war. The sky displays a brilliance of red, yellows, golds over the heads of what remains of Peter’s little team as he helps Tony to his feet. Mantis assists Quill, his arm slung loosely around her shoulder, and then, Peter see’s you congregate into the regrouping. You’re dirty, your outfit looking a little worse for wear. He’s seen you in better shape but at that moment all he can think about is how happy he is to see you there. Standing, breathing.

Seeing you alive.

There’s still light in your eyes when you find his gaze and smile.

Yes, in that moment, even miles away from the finish line, Peter feels his heart swell. In that moment it felt that the war had been won- that the worst of it was finally over.

He’s about to open his mouth, remark about the events having unfolded, ask a hopeful, is it over, but he’s stopped.

Mantis’s eyes unfocus. She stares into the vibrant, dangerous sky, “Something's happening.” She says suddenly.

Peter’s brows knit in confusion, but then- he feels it too. A sharp shot of electricity running down his spine that brings the hairs on his arms to a stand. His spider sense is thrust into full gear as he turns, looks for something, anything, but there is… Nothing. Nothing is happening. If anything, the world was almost too silent, trepidation making his breath halt in his throat.

In the span of a simple, yet devastating second, it all begins.

Mantis is gone. In the blink of an eye, not a single other sentence uttered than a warning. Peter stops in his tracks. Then, he see’s Drax peer down to his hands. Without saying a word, in just a few quiet moments, the man dissipates into ash. From where he once stood, there is nothing. There was no howl of agony, there were no words, there was no time to process. No pile of ash or any evidence he’d been there at all. Peter’s chest tightens. His spider sense wreaks havoc on his nerves, bringing his stomach to an unrelenting churn.

Quill, now forced to stand on his own, looks to Tony. His team gone right before his eyes.

Tony’s eyes light up in fear. “Steady, Quill,” he rushes, but it’s too late.

“Oh man…” Quill knows it's over. And he, just as his friends, fades into nothing. Little ashes that were once the being of Peter Quill flutter into the air before fading entirely.

Peter’s mind is racing now. This can’t be happening, how could it be happening?

“Tony,” Dr. Strange calls. “There was no other way.”

Peter can’t watch anymore. Instead, he finds you. He doesn’t need to see it to know that Dr. Strange is gone. The silence, the way you cover your mouth and shake your head fervently, whispering to yourself in denial, mind overtaken with sudden grief, with fear. He wishes he could take it all away from you. Tears are drawing in your once lit eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter starts frantically, turning to Tony and ignoring that empty space that once was Dr. Strange. He’s terrified to the core, mind racing. Who would be next? Tony? Himself? You? He take’s a trembling step towards his mentor, begging for answers. His stomach is in knots. “What do we do?”

He needs something, anything. It feels like the world is ending before his very eyes.

Tony turns to answer him, but he stops. He’s stuck looking at something else, his expression falling. Peter follows his line of sight, and he’s stricken with dread.

Your hands at your chest, staring into your palms, the gentlest stream of brown dust eating away at your skin. “They’re numb,” you whisper, and Peter feels like the floor was torn out from under him. His heart sinks into the lowest pits of his stomach when you look up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

Not you.

As you lose your footing, falling victim to the effects overtaking your body, Peter launches from his place to catch you before you could collapse onto the dirt. He follows you down, cradles you in his arms, eyes searching for anything he could do to fix it. Anything he could do to save you.

It couldn't be you.

“Peter.” You begin, and you touch his face. He swallows a lump in his throat. You appeared so fearful, and yet, at a sort of peace. Of course you knew exactly what was happening. So did he.

“You can’t,” Peter wheezes. He shakes as he keeps you in his hold. “You can’t leave me.”

He watches in anguish as your expression softens, your eyes unfocusing. Staring into the bright sky ahead of you. There’s nothing he can do to keep you here, with him. Your arms fade into nothing, infectiously spreading to your chest. He feels the weight of you lighten in his arms.

“You’re okay,” You whisper. “You’ll be okay.”

For what short time he can, Peter pulls you into his chest. He clutches you to himself like nothing else, unaccepting, unprepared. He can’t accept it- not like you had so quickly. He can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Clutched against him, he feels the shape of you in his arms, and then, all at once, you’re gone. Emptiness from where you once lay and the absence of you sends him collapsing into the dirt with nothing to keep him supported any longer. The dirt is cold, hard,. unwelcoming. He doesn't even bother to look to see if maybe, somehow, you remained. He knew better. You were gone.

Peter doesn't cry out, or wail into the nothingness or grasp at the dirt you’d faded into. Teeth sinking into his lower lip, he just shakes, he sucks in breaths that hurt his aching lungs and tightens his hands into harsh fists. There’s a touch on his shoulder but he ignores it. He’s lost in himself, lost in you. Lost in wondering so suddenly how he’s supposed to carry on without you.

He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

“He did it.” Nebula whispers, sorrow dripping from each word. A miserable confirmation.

Tears sting his eyes, squeezed shut, wishing it was all just a dream. Wishing he could glance up, and you’d just be there still. Why did it have to be you? All your fighting, all your work, making it to the very end side by side with him and for what? There was nothing of you left- nothing for him to remind himself that you’d even been there at all save for your goodbye, the softness of your eyes. The way you touched his face and told him he’d be okay.

“Hey,” A touch breaches his scrambled thoughts once more. Tony kneels beside him, crestfallen. “You gotta get up kid,” but Peter can’t. He doesn’t want to- not just yet. He doesn’t want to move and see that you really are gone.

The touch turns into a soft grip, a small tug. Tony tries again, a crack in his voice. “You gotta get up, Peter.”

Eyes wet, blurry with fat tears, holding the worst of his lamenting cries within the confines of his chest, he brings himself to look up. The loss of you stings him all over again. The loss of everyone stings him, fills him with desolation. Fill him with hopelessness.

They hadn’t won. They’d lost everything.

He can’t meet Tony’s gaze. The world had rolled, crashed in and folded onto everyone. All he could think about was you, the feeling of you. The hauntingness of remembering your words so rushed and the sight of you eroding into nothingness. He can’t handle it. He drops his head all over again and let’s tears soak into the dirt underneath him.

He can’t handle the thought of you gone now, and gone forever. All your plans, desolated. The thought of you never getting to see the end of the war, let alone another day. The realization that he’d never get to spend another with you.

The pure, raw, mercilessness of having you in his arms one moment, and gone the next.

#marvel #peter parker #avengers #imagine #endgame #spiderman #peter parker x reader #fanfic #angst #scenario

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

He held his breath.

LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

“DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. ��Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

That sounded like a horrendous decision.

PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

Another two weeks. Another text.

PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

There was no winning here.

MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

#spiderman #starwars #dinluke #inimitable verse #ficlet #this is the niche of the niche but I know like 5 of you read both my mando and spiderman fics #so this is for you doll #and also the fact that I have a fucking PROBLEM

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sunshineandaisies · 3 years

Text

Pikachu Problems

Words: ~1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: language, very minor sexual suggestions

Note: I am currently sick- thus, this was created. Also watched a bunch of Teen Wolf while writing this, so took inspiration from Kira’s thunder kitsune powers for the reader’s powers.

It had started off as just sniffles – an occasional sneeze here and a blown nose there – but within the course of a few days, what you had hoped was just allergies had turned into a full-blown, misery-inducing cold.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it were a normal cold, but because normal wasn’t in your vocabulary, you had been placed on quarantine to stop your sneezing and coughing from taking down an entire electrical grid in the city. Instead, you were irritating Tony every ten minutes as the lights flickered within Stark Tower and F.R.I.D.A.Y. updated him on the power outages throughout the building that your sneezing and coughing was causing.

“Kid, I’m gonna need you to stop shorting the power in the lab,” he had told you over the intercom after your latest coughing fit had caused a slight blackout within that part of the building. “Do we need to get some lightning rods for you or something? Maybe pad your room in rubber? I’ll take any suggestions, kid. Anything that’ll help keep you from frying the equipment in my lab.”

If you hadn’t been absolutely miserable, his growing frustration may have been funny.

Your quarantine only made you more miserable. You hadn’t been to school in days – hell, you’d barely left your room. Your meals were brought to you, your supply of tissues restocked every other day when Bucky or Bruce would leave a plastic bag from the drug store outside of your door, and your communication with others was done solely through the intercom or with F.R.I.D.A.Y. serving as a messenger.

To make matters worse, on the third day of you quarantine a particularly powerful sneeze had shorted all the electronics in your room. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been unable to access your room for three hours while Tony repaired the damage, your laptop had to be completely wiped in order to assess the damage, and your phone – well, your phone was fried.

That’s probably why, on the sixth day of your quarantine, a friendly neighborhood Spider-Boy showed up at Stark Tower, rambling on and on about unanswered texts and awkward voicemails – that you definitely needed to listen to once Tony sorted out your phone situation – and ‘why the hell weren’t you in school all week’.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark. Let me in to see her,” you heard Peter begging through the intercom after he had finally managed to track Tony down after trying and failing to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to open the door to your bedroom for nearly thirty minutes. “I just wanna make sure she’s feeling okay.”

“Kid, the last thing we need is a fried spider,” was Tony’s response, making you roll your eyes.

“I won’t hurt him,” you defended, your throat sore and scratchy from days upon days of feeling like you would cough up a lung. “I just want some cuddles, and I don’t see anyone else lining up at my door to cuddle me.” You sneezed, and the lights in your room flickered. You hoped your sneezed hadn’t affected the electricity anywhere else or you’d never convince Tony to let Peter into your room. “Please, Tony,” you pleaded. “I just want to see Peter.”

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter joined your pleading, and you knew that with the combined efforts of the two of you, he’d crack eventually. “She won’t hurt me. I know she won’t.”

You heard the older man groan over the intercom, and after another second, the lock on your door disengaged. “Thank you, Tony!” you exclaimed at the same time as Peter happily shouted, “You’re the best, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Tony warned, sounding just as exasperated as you imagined he was. You smiled widely despite knowing that neither Tony nor Peter could see you. Tony Stark was good at many things but being able to tell his protégé and his ward no when they both pressed hard enough was not one of those things.

Within ten minutes, Peter was at your door. He had a fuzzy blanket draped over his shoulders, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands, and his laptop tucked under one arm while a fresh box of tissues was tucked under the other. He beamed at you when you opened the door, but his smile quickly faded as he took in your appearance. “You, uh- you look like-”

“Shit?” you guessed, hating how nasally your voice sounded. You tried to laugh when you saw his cheeks tinge pink as he shrugged, but your attempt at laughing quickly turned into a coughing fit. The lights flickered again, and Peter’s eyed you skeptically.

“Is this why you haven’t been answering my texts and calls all week?” he asked, though you assumed he already knew the answer to that question. You cocked your head to the side and raised a brow at him, moving to the side to let him into your room and past you. “You killed your phone, didn’t you?”

“Can you kill something that was never alive to begin with?” you asked rhetorically. You crawled onto your bed and crossed your legs, waiting for Peter to join you. “Did I fry my phone and make it completely unusable? Yes. Did I kill it? No.”

“Sounds like you killed it,” he quipped with a teasing grin. “Here. Pepper made this for you.” He handed you the bowl of soup, and you happily took it from him, inhaling the steam that rose off the liquid and letting it warm your throat and sinuses. You sighed in relief as you felt it soothing the inflammation that made it difficult to breath and speak. The sound didn’t escape Peter’s attention, and he smiled softly at you before settling a hand on your bare knee. “Better?”

“I will be,” you reassured and returned his smile. You let him mother hen you as you ate the soup in quiet. He made sure you had enough water, made sure that you weren’t feeling feverish, made sure that a box of tissues was within your reach, made sure that you were comfortable – ‘Peter, you really don’t need to fluff my pillows again’ – and made sure that you had taken the recommended dose of cough syrup throughout the day.

Finally – finally! – he joined you on the bed after pulling the now empty bowl from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. “Someone asked for cuddles?” he questioned sheepishly – and oh so adorably – as he settled in the spot beside you.

“I believe that someone is me,” you returned. You moved closer to him, but something in the back of your mind made you stop. “Are you sure?”

His face twisted in confusion and his brow furrowed tightly. “Sure about what?”

“That I won’t hurt you.” Right on cue, you coughed, causing the lights to flicker once again. “I can’t control it, Peter. I could hurt you, and if that happens, I don’t know what I-”

Your train of thought was interrupted by a warm hand on your cheek and soft brown eyes boring into yours. “Y/N, I literally trust you with my life. Out there and in here.” His thumb trailed over your cheekbone, his touch igniting your sense. You really wished you weren’t sick. If you were healthy, you’d definitely pounce and show him your appreciation for him and his trust.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

He shrugged. “Seems like it’s nothing more than a cold, but your powers are making it, like, ten times worse for you.” His hand dropped away from your face, but his arms opened, inviting you into his embrace. “C’mere, pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl? Didn’t you say I looked like shit earlier?”

“In my defense, I never actually said that. You just assumed that that was what I was going to say.” You scooted closer to Peter and slumped into his arms, sighing at the contact after going days without. “But you’re always a pretty girl. Even if you’re sick and look like shit.”

You swatted at his shoulder and laughed, but another coughing fit soon took over. The lights flickered overhead and a mechanically buzzing in the walls could be heard for a few seconds before the room grew silent once more. Once you were sure that the need to cough had died down, you relaxed against Peter. “Can we take a nap? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” He guided your bodies down to the mattress, settling your heads atop your pillow and pulling the blanket over your bodies. “You’ll tell me if you need anything?”

“Definitely,” you murmured against the skin of his neck, your eyes drooping shut. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, pretty girl,” you heard Peter respond before you finally let your exhausted body rest.

When you woke up a few hours later, your body shaking from your latest coughing fit, the New York skyline was lit up with different shades of pinks and reds and oranges as the sun sank below the horizon. Peter bolted awake beside you, a comforting hand on your back to rub soothing circles over the fabric of your t-shirt.

Again, the lights flickered, and the mechanical buzzing sound returned, even louder than before. This time, though, the lights grew brighter and brighter before your bedroom was eventually plunged into darkness.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he reassured quickly. “I’m fine, but, uh-” He held up his phone, the screen remaining completely black as he pressed the home button over and over again. “I think you killed my phone.”

You groaned and flopped back against your mattress, covering your face with your hands. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

You were interrupted by Tony’s voice over the intercom, sounding just as irritated as you imagined he was. “Okay, Pikachu.” You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “Not sure how you managed to do it, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. can’t access anything on your floor. The locks, the lights, the elevator. All of it. Until I can figure out how to fix this, you’re not going anywhere. That means you, too, Spiderling.”

“But Aunt May said to-” The distinct click of the intercom disconnecting sounded, and Peter slumped against the mattress beside you, pressing his face into your neck. “I guess I’m stuck here.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,” you quipped.

You felt him smile against your neck while his arm wound itself around your waist. “I’m not complaining,” he defended. He pressed his lips to your neck in a soft kiss, and you sighed happily, fingers twining in his messy hair. To prove his point, he pressed kisses along the column of your neck, across your jaw and cheeks, and finally firmly against your lips. “I’m definitely okay with being stuck in my girlfriend’s bedroom. Even if she’s sick and unintentionally causing blackouts in the building.”

You smiled against his lips as he settled himself between your legs, and you whispered, “Whoever said giving you a perfectly good reason to stay the night was unintentional?”

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metalbvcky · 4 years

Photo

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key: ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 | Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

#stucky #stevebucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction rec #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #modern au #canon divergence #marvel #my reclist #long post for ts

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

Daniel Le Domas x gender neutral reader

Yo I hate Alex that motherfucker but also I think it’d be easier if Daniel killed Tony in the forest and then ran away with Grace, but I guess it’d be safe to bet that others left for the forest when the car got flipped.

Also for some reason my gifs aren’t workin

Requested: No

Word Count: 2847

Warnings: suggested use of drugs because Emilie exists, mentions of hypothetical violence, some angst i think, mentions of a gun in a world war themed board game

Normal AU where Le Domas are a ‘normal’ rich family, still weird, but no deal with the devil.

Servants, lavish parties, gourmet food, expensive alcohol, this was the life you might be inheriting. You say ‘might’ because you’re not married, nor are you getting married.

Your partner, Daniel Le Domas, was born to a rich family, so he was entitled to all these privileges, not that he seemed quite fond of them. Deep down you knew he was, but he for sure didn’t make it clear.

“Don’t worry,” Speak of the devil. He reassures you, squeezing your hand as you walk down the halls to the music room. A music room, for god’s sake! Not speakers, not a radio, but their butler playing the piano. At least they didn’t have a ballroom, that would just be way extra. “We’re a normal family, I promise.”

“Normal?” You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to a nearby seemingly ancient, though you exaggerated that, portrait of a newlywed couple. “All the portraits I’ve seen so far are newlywed couples.”

“That’s normal for rich families.”

“Haha.” You say sarcastically. “But seriously, you can’t even paint them in normal clothes? Not even family pictures of one of your many vacations?”

“First of all, who said we even had vacations?” You assumed they did, seeing as they were wealthy. Doesn’t the average rich person go on vacation twice a year? Whatever, who were you to assume? Though the thought of it is still a little peculiar, so you decide to question it.

“You don’t? No little tour over Europe? No visiting the seven wonders in the span of a week?” You go on and on, suggesting outlandish places.

Daniel nudges your side playfully to get you to stop. “No, haven’t even toured the US.”

You laugh, nudging him back. “You’re no fun, for a board game family.” You pluck a nearby board game from it’s shelf, Yankee Bayonet. Initially, you’d been attracted because of the gun on the box. It's world war one or two themed. “Well, can’t blame you. Don’t know how this would seem fun. What’s it even about?” You put the box back on display before Daniel can scold you for touching it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There’s so many games, and I’ve barely played a quarter of them. That one, however,” he points at a box further down the hallway, “that one I play-tested as a kid. It’s somewhat fun.”

“Somewhat.”

As you near the end of the hallway, your eyes land on a portrait of Charity. You stop, which makes Daniel stop too. For a second, he’s confused, until he looks up at the portrait. Immediately, he turns to survey you. Among every emotion dancing in your eyes, he catches disturbance, nervousness, and most importantly, a splash of disgust. “Charity.” You say a little bitterly.

“Charity.” He repeats. “That’s where our painting used to be.” He cups your cheek and pulls you to look at him, putting his other hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, putting one hand on his hip and the other on the hand resting on your cheek. “It’s nothing. If I’m going to be with you, I’m going to have to face your family.” Daniel smiles, giving you a quick peck on the nose. He’s glad you’re so willing to get to know them, especially with how much he’s down-talked them, to put it lightly. “The only thing that confuses me is why this is still here. She’s your ex-wife.”

“They took a liking to her.” The both of you grimace. “She was just as crazy as them. Honestly, I don’t see what they see in her. But,” He takes your hand and presses a kiss on it. “I won’t let her bother you. If you want, I’ll even flaunt our relationship more than I would’ve.”

You shake your head, turning towards the next corridor. “No need. I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, “I’ll be fine.”

You were not fine, in fact, you were a fish out of water. Standing next to the family, you felt severely underdressed, even when you’d gone out your way to wear something fancy. Though that wasn’t the biggest problem. They were all very distinct, but they fit into the family. Of course, they were family, but it made you feel like an outcast.

“(y/n),” Becky greets you with a smile. You offer her a hand, but she gives you a hug instead. You barely manage to reciprocate it. “I’m delighted that you came for a visit."

You give her the best smile you can, hoping she doesn’t notice it’s fake. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” You’d really thought that meeting the family would go smooth, honestly though, how could you? These were rich people, your lifestyle, mannerisms, nothing was even remotely similar to theirs.

“Oh, thank you.” She hands you a glass of champagne which you gingerly take, just to be polite. “I hope you can bring my son back to his old self. He’s never been the same since the divorce!” Before she can take you off towards a couch somewhere, Daniel stops her. He’d excused himself for some whiskey when you made it to the entrance and promised he’d make it quick.

“Mom.” He scolds lightly. He takes the drink from your hands and leaves it on a servant’s tray, knowing you’re not one for fancy champagne.

“Daniel.” Her face lights up. She gives him a quick hug, which you notice Daniel is a bit uncomfortable in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She teases.

Daniel nods rather stiffly, moving to your side and taking your hand almost immediately. “Been busy.” The whole family knows that ‘busy’ meant being with you, yet he covers up for it anyway.

“I know, I know. They’re a nice catch, by the way.” Becky pats you on the shoulder, a gesture both you and Daniel seem to dislike. “Well, I better not keep you for any longer. I’m sure the rest of the family is eager to meet you.” For some reason, you highly doubt that.

Becky leaves you for another glass of champagne. Daniel turns to you once she’s gone. “You okay?” He holds your hands in his in the hopes it’ll comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can tell you’re lying, you’re not hiding it very well. He gives you a knowing look, pushing you to tell the truth. “Alright, I’m not okay. Charity and your aunt have been eyeing me up since we arrived, your dad looks way older than your mom, Emily and Finch seem too happy to be real, your nephews are creepy, and Alex and Grace both look like they want to leave. That’s not reassuring, now is it?” Your ever rising tone makes Daniel squeeze your hands to stop you.

“Honey, they’re harmless.” He knows that’s an awful way of reassuring someone, but he knows that no matter what he says, you’ll still be doubtful.

You frown, letting out a sigh through your nose. “I know they’re harmless, but..” You bite your lip, trying to find a way to sugar coat your words. “Charity looks like she wants to kill me and your aunt looks like she could skin me alive without even blinking.”

“Look,” He brings his hands to cup your cheeks. “there’s nothing to worry about. From now on, I won’t leave your side. And if I need a refill, I’ll bring you with me. I love you.”

You sigh again, closing your eyes. In the end, you nod, opening them back up to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Good,” He brings you in for a chaste kiss. “Let’s go fuck them, like mom says.”

"She really says that?"

Daniel was right, they were harmless. Well, you hadn’t talked to Charity, but at least you’d talked to the second person giving you a serial killer look, aunt Helene.

Turns out the stink eye was her resting face and that her husband had died tragically. It was the main reason she looked so miserable. She was most likely merely reminiscing about her husband while looking at you two, the newest couple in love. If anything, it made you feel bad for her.

"I'm pretty sure I saw her take a pill like a shot in the hallway." You side glance Emilie as Daniel pulls you off to the side. You were just done talking to her, and somehow, even with all that parental stress, her smile was genuine. She was happy and extremely friendly. Well, so was her husband, but even he had a bit of awkwardness in him. "She's not suffering from anything, is she?"

Daniel shrugs, "Not that I know of."

He sits the both of you down on a loveseat out of earshot from the rest. "Now, we only have to wait until dinner." You nod. "But I have something to tell you. When somebody marries into the family, they have to play a game. It's just tradition. Play the game and you're part of the family, but win it, and you'll gain respect. Might as well get some practice in, right?"

"Did you just propose to me?" You mean it as a joke, but Daniel shrugs and reaches into his pocket. It's a wonder how people aren't looking over right now, well, apart from Charity.

"This is a claddagh ring. It's been sitting in my pocket for ages." He says as he pulls it out of the box. The majority of the ring is normal, but in the middle is a heart with a crown on it. "But, it's up to you how you want to wear it."

"So is this a proposal or..?"

He gives you a quick rundown on the meanings. On the right hand crown pointing towards the fingerprints is single and looking, towards the wrist is taken, on the left ring finger crown pointing towards the fingertips is engaged, and pointing to the wrist is married. Obviously, you're not married or single, so that leaves taken or engaged; and he's giving you that decision.

"You want me to choose?"

Daniel looks like he's regretting his spontaneous and presumably drunken decision. But with a swig of his drink, he smiles again. "Yes. I mean, we've talked about marriage and all but I wasn't sure if you'd be ready. I'm still not sure, but now that you know about it, you might as well wear it."

You admire the ring as you weigh your options. Daniel takes your free hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, especially your ring finger.

Engagement is the brightest thing in your heart and mind, despite that, it still finds doubts. Your in-laws, they were weird. But they didn't have anything to hide, they were harmless. On the plus side, you loved Daniel.

That was the final push. You grab Daniel's left hand, sliding the ring down his ring finger with the crown pointing to the fingertips.

Daniel's left hand curls around your right, the metal feels cold against your skin, despite all your fiddling. You look up at him, seeing his brows furrowed with confusion. You speak up before he can, "I might as well be proposing to you, if you're giving me the decision."

Daniel laughs, giving you a kiss followed by an eskimo kiss. He isn't usually one for eskimo kisses, but you figure it's happiness. "Okay, but I'll buy you one."

"Deal." You give him a final kiss before pulling him off the seat. "What should we play?"

"Well, first we have to go to the game room."

"The game room?"

You were hoping the game room was the room with the double doors painted with the name 'Le Domas', seeing as they were a board game family, but apparently not. "It's reserved for family, so technically you're not allowed in. But, we have a game room for parties." Daniel explains on the way. Rich people and their special rooms…

Once inside, Becky plucks a family board game from the shelf, no doubt a Le Baile product. Before you can join them at the couch, however, Charity pulls you off to the side.

Daniel follows, putting his arm around your shoulder protectively. Charity glares at him for a second before turning back to you, it was clear she wanted you alone. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Usually, we play more traditional games, stuff that would be here during my great-great-grandfather's time. He founded the company but the family tradition comes from before most of the games they've created." He whispers quickly into your ear. Due to the quickness, you almost fail to comprehend his words, but luckily you understand them.

"Alright." You agree to the game. Charity leads you over to the chess table, where conveniently, the chess board is already set out.

Daniel pulls a chair from seemingly out of nowhere, setting it down to your side, much to Charity's distaste.

"I got chess when I married in." Somehow she manages to avoid bitterness in her tone. "You should go first."

God, you barely knew the basics.

"So tell me about yourself." Charity speaks up.

You give her a quick rundown, which hopefully doesn't reveal any information that she could use to her advantage. "Interesting." She takes your bishop. "From what I've heard Daniel say, I expected the worst."

Daniel narrows his eyes at her as a warning, though Charity doesn't see. Her eyes are glued to the board.

"I don't know why he'd leave me for you."

"Charity." Daniel warns her.

Charity holds her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm only speaking my mind. But I'll stop now."

She does stop for the remainder of the game, nevertheless there's no doubt in your mind that she has a lot more to say. She beats you quite easily, though she seemed disappointed when the reward was not getting to remarry your new fiancé. It's either that or you'd read her wrong.

"You have much to practice." Becky remarks, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. "But, you'll get there." She smiles.

You smile back, standing up from your chair. Daniel does so too, almost protectively. He stares ahead towards Charity. The two seem to be having a glaring contest. You decide to ignore them, "I don't know about that."

"Oh, sure you will." Her eyes trail towards your hands when you intertwine them.

"I didn't see that there before. Claddagh ring, left ring finger pointing up." She continues to stare, a little disrespectfully. She notices this before it becomes moderately disrespectful. "You're engaged." Her smile widens.

Her words catch everyone's attention. Almost immediately, Emilie runs over with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Congrats!" She exclaims, reaching out to hold your hand but stopping when she sees it connected to Daniel's. "I can't wait to have you in the family!"

"Thanks."

"They're not normal." You remark as you sit next to Daniel on the bed. The family had insisted that you stay the night, and while that was quite sweet of them, you really wanted to get out of there. They were no longer creepy or ominous, but you want a break. You weren't feeling as social as you did when you came in.

"Can't judge what normal is when they're the only family I've met." Daniel brings the blanket over your legs. "Sorry, anyway."

You shrug, planting a kiss on his forehead. "It's alright. Though that proposal was a little spontaneous."

At the mention of the proposal, Daniel shifts his ring around on his finger. "I was drunk, still am. At least I got it out of my chest. Who knows how long I'd keep it in my pocket otherwise."

"Knowing you, it'd be months, maybe a year."

"Hey!" Daniel whines, nonetheless, it's followed up by a laugh.

You can't help but give him a kiss again, this time on his temple. Daniel moves closer afterwards, pulling you into a proper kiss on the lips.

"Did you like them?" He asks when you pull apart.

You shake your head side to side in a more or less motion. "Mostly. Charity is Charity, you know. Your dad seemed to only focus on the engagement, I think I saw Emilie snort something, I don't know what to feel. Well, your mom is nice, maybe a little too nice. She hopes that I make you behave like you, but I wouldn't know how that is."

"So that's what she was talking to you about." He bites his lip for a second. "Well, don't worry. I believe I behave the way 'I used to' around anybody that isn't them, apart from Alex and Grace."

"Reassuring." You say sarcastically, laying down.

"Seriously? Can't tell the difference?" He lays down, cupping your cheek and allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

"Honestly, yeah. It's a little concerning." You nuzzle into his hand.

"Well, don't be. We'll be back home in no time. After breakfast, though, they're going to insist on that." You groan at the thought. Daniel simply laughs in reply, turning off the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweet dreams. Love ya."

"Love you too."

#daniel le domas x reader #ready or not fanfiction #craving fic #daniel le domas x gender neutral reader #fluff

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wienerbarnes · 3 years

Text

Much Ado About Nothing (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,726

Warnings: enemies to lovers, talk of wedding and marriage stuff

A/N: enjoy the first part and let me know what u think!

MAIN MASTERLIST | MUCH ADO MASTERLIST

The ride back to New York feels a lot longer than the ride to Croatia, Bucky decides. HYDRA wasn’t kidding around when they said cut one head off and two take its place, whatever. No matter how hard Earth’s Mightiest Heroes try, there’s another facility that pops up at one point or another.

Bucky tries to think positively; they should be off HYDRA duty, if they keep up the consistent schedule of finding a new facility every three or so months, for a bit now.

“What’s the first thing you guys are gonna do when you get back? I’m gonna get some hot chocolate from the little cafeteria in the main building.” Sam hums from the seat directly behind Bucky.

Bucky’s in the passenger while Steve pilots and he gives his own answer at the same time as Steve,

“Shower.”

“Propose to Sharon.”

A small pause for the boys to ensure they heard that correctly.

“Wanna run that by us again, Cap?” Sam pipes up.

“When we land, I’m going to propose to Sharon.” Steve repeats nonchalantly.

“Since when?!” Bucky asks. He knows for a fact that Steve and Sharon adore each other, but Steve has never brought up marriage once in the time he’s dated Sharon, and clearly he hasn’t done so to Sam, either.

“Listen, I know we haven’t been dating long, but I know I love her and I know she loves me, so, what’s the point in waiting?” He explains.

“Is this about what happened earlier, Steve?” Bucky asks, knowing his best friend all too well.

A bomb was in the facility, of course, and Steve and Bucky tried to disarm it while Sam rallied the rest of prisoners out of the building.

Now, while Steve has obtained most of his training through his serum-fueled muscle memory and military experience over the last few decades, he is extremely lucky. Steve has successfully disarmed twenty-nine bombs throughout his Avengers career. Not a single failure. With no bomb training.

So when he cut one of the wires confidently and the timer started ticking faster, it made him nervous. And it made him even more nervous when he clipped a different wire and the time counter automatically set to zero. He froze in shock and was lucky Bucky was able to fling the two of them out a window and away from the direct blast.

“Okay, so, yeah, maybe I got a little scared. But, listen, it’s not a lie that we lead dangerous lives. Why should I hold back on the things I want if I know tomorrow isn’t promised?” Steve defends.

“Steve, you can’t marry a girl because you’re scared of dying!” Bucky exclaims.

“I’m not marrying her for that, Bucky, I love her!”

“I know you love her, but -”

“But?! -”

“Alright, alright, listen,” Sam interrupts their sibling bickering, “If this is what you want, I’m with you 100%, Cap.” Sam reassures.

Steve gives a thankful smile and looks back to Bucky, hoping for the same.

“You know I’m always on board with you, you punk.” Bucky slaps a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Ah, big man’s gonna be engaged!” Sam throws his hands on Steve’s shoulders, jostling his body in the tiny pilot’s seat, and Bucky joins in on the teasing.

“I’m gonna tell everyone to meet in the hangar for when you ask her.” Sam says, pulling out his phone.

“You’re not gonna tell the Geek, are you?” Bucky groans.

“Of course, I’m gonna tell her. I don’t know why you don’t like her, man.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the thought of the little lab rat. Sharon’s best friend. A young girl, born and raised in New York though thoroughly traveled through your work experience. Been to over fifty countries offering your expertise to combat cyberterrorism and have helped locate some of the hardest-to-find and worst people in the world.

You act like you’re all that just because you’re considered one of the youngest geniuses in the country and one of the greatest hackers in the world as well as the Avengers’ best tech expert of all time.

Whatever, big whoop, Bucky could care less.

As the jet lands, hugs and cheers are exchanged as the group of friends reacquaint themselves once again after a long mission. After greeting everyone, Bucky hangs on the outskirts of the group, waiting to see how Steve is going to pop his big question.

“C’mon, punk, don’t lose your courage.” Bucky talks to himself.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Bucky, but no one’s listening to you. You can stop talking.” Your voice pipes up next to him.

“Oh, hey, Little Miss Geeky, don’t you have some codes to hack, or something?” He bites at you.

“I told you not to call me that!”

“I told you not to call me that,” Bucky mocks you in a higher pitched voice.

“Geez, how does anyone stand you around here? I don’t get how all the female trainees are infatuated with you.”

“They definitely kiss my ass because I train them and I have the final say on whether or not they move on to second-class training, but even if I didn’t,” Bucky turns to face you now, “They’d still love me because every woman here loves me except for you, it seems.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway, I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone or anything right now, I don’t even know I’m capable of that, anymore.” Bucky finishes.

“Women everywhere are lucky, then. You’d make a horrible boyfriend. I’m glad I have no need for romance, either.”

“Hopefully you keep it that way, any guy that ends up with your catty ass will end up with his face scratched up.”

“Well, if his face looks anything like yours, a good scratching would only make it look better.”

“Alright, alright, enough, you two. Can’t even be civil around each other for five minutes.” Sam interrupts, slinging each of his arms around both you and Bucky’s shoulders, shoving himself in between the two of you.

“She started it.”

“No, he -”

“Stop! He’s about to do it.” Sam shushes you.

“He’s about to do what -”

“Guys, guys, I want everyone’s attention.” Steve’s voice calls out, and everyone quiets down immediately.

Steve turns to Sharon, “Sharon, you are the most beautiful, the strongest, the kindest, and most amazing woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He begins.

“I’ve known for a while now, and I know you have, too, that I love you with every fiber of my being. You make me a better Captain, and a better man every day I’m with you. I truly and deeply believe that you’re my soulmate and I won’t ever find another girl like you in my life. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. So, I don’t want to waste anymore time,” Steve lowers down onto one knee and a few gasps echo from the group.

Bucky sees you slap a hand over your mouth in shock and Sam sniffles beside him. A small smile appears on Bucky’s face, too.

“Sharon, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Steve, yes I’ll marry you!” Sharon cries out, jumping into Steve’s arms as he stands again, and the group claps and cheers for them.

They share sweet kiss after sweet kiss, relishing in the new step in their relationship.

Sharon’s voice catches everyone in their celebration, though, “Let’s get married now!”

Collective what’s come from the group of friends that surround them, “Like you said, babe, let’s not waste anymore time!”

“Sharon, if you think you’re not getting the most gorgeous and lovely wedding you deserve, you’re mistaken.” You tell her.

“For once, I agree with Techie, Shar. I mean you don’t have a dress, Steve doesn’t have a tux; hell, the two of you don’t even have rings!” Bucky says.

“I can make it happen in a week.” Tony’s voice booms from the group. Everyone looks to him.

“I can get you guys rings, I can get Sharon a dress, and Steve a suit, I can set up the smaller ballroom for a pre-wedding party for everyone tonight and get the bigger ballroom ready for a wedding by next Friday.” Tony offers.

“Consider it a wedding gift.” He smiles.

Sharon and Steve look to each other before looking back at Tony, “Next Friday it is, then.”

The group goes back to congratulating the newly engaged couple as well as conversing about the future wedding.

...

“Hey, did you guys hear about the rumored wedding?”

Bruce Banner pipes up in the empty lab after returning from downstairs. Well, not empty, of course, but empty of you, the intern’s tech leader in their internship.

“What idiot would want to get married, nowadays?” John pipes up.

The only reason he’s here is because his step-brother, Sam “The Falcon” Wilson insisted on getting him this internship gig. Everyone was always saying how he wasn’t going to live up to his big brother’s legacy, and he hated the fact that that was only ingrained into his existence further by the fact that Sam got him this position.

“Your brother’s best buddy.” Clint Barton enters and answers. Always roaming around the building, he is.

“What, that pretty boy, Steve?”

“That’s the one.” The archer confirms and plops himself down in a spinning chair.

“Huh. And I guess he’s marrying that pretty girlfriend of his? When did this happen?”

“That he is. It happened just downstairs now that they’ve returned from that mission. There’s a party tonight to celebrate.” Banner informs him, hoping the sound of a party will liven the kid’s spirits a bit.

Banner can see the kid’s frustration in living in his brother’s shadow - or feeling like so - and hopes that allowing him the opportunity to make some good memories will make his time here feel a little less miserable. Despite the connection to his brother, John’s incredibly smart for a nineteen-year-old, a teenager, and deserves to have a little play among all his work.

“Hmmm. I think I’ll go. Who doesn't love a good party, right?” John says, satisfying both Avengers in the lab with him.

Meanwhile, John’s fantasizing, he’s going to get into trouble around here.

…

Sharon, Tony, and you sit around a small table in the cafeteria while Sam waits for his hot chocolate across the room.

“If only I could find a guy in between Steve and Bucky. Steve’s too vanilla and Bucky’s too… Bucky.” You say.

“Keep thinking like that and you won’t find anyone.” Tony tells you.

“Well, good. I pray everyday that God doesn’t send me a husband. Ugh, and especially not a guy like Steve or Bucky; I can’t stand those beards.”

“Maybe you’ll find a husband that shaves.” Sharon offers.

“I know I’m not hearing my darling Geeky and husband as topics in the same conversation.” Sam finally joins with his cup of hot chocolate.

“You’re right, you’re not. I’ll start looking for a husband when they make men out of something other than trash. Speaking of which, I know Steve is America’s Golden Boy, or whatever, but you make sure he treats you right.” You say.

“I second that.” Sam agrees.

“I third it.” Tony follows.

Sharon laughs, “Guys, guys, I appreciate it, but I don’t need you guys to have that talk with me, Steve is amazing, and you all know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, anyway, I’m going to go shower for the party tonight, I’ve been holed up in the lab all morning.” You stand and go to exit the cafeteria.

Bucky’s way ahead of you in that aspect, following through with what he said on the jet and retreating up to his room to shower as soon as the congratulations were given to the happy couple.

Showering is a special ritual Bucky follows after a rough mission. Of course, everyone showers after a mission, but Bucky makes his post-mission showers extra special.

He double shampoos both his hair and his beard, lathering them up with a smooth conditioner after, while he washes all the dirt and gunk from his body with a lavender and grapeseed oil body soap.

He applies a face mask while he cleans up any wounds he might’ve sustained on the mission, as well as polishing and scrubbing his metal arm clean. Once he’s finished, he painfully reminds himself that he can’t just sleep for the next sixteen hours. He has to get ready to go to a party.

He sighs to himself, “Let’s get this over with.”

…

Everyone in the ballroom is dressed to the nines for the last-minute engagement party. There’s music, dancing, drinks, and just about everyone that works in the tower is in that room.

The group of friends all find each other eventually, and of course all of the attention is on the future bride and groom. Talk of colors and themes and cakes all overwhelm the couple - the question of whether or not Sharon will wear a garter makes Steve blush.

Quite honestly, they’re on the verge of just eloping downtown and saying to hell with all the parties and festivities.

“Okay, okay, can we talk about something else? I don’t want all this wedding stuff to be the only thing I hear about for the next seven days.” Sharon finally interrupts.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about, Miss Bride-to-be?” You ask.

“Well, how about when you’re going to find yourself a husband?” Sharon teases her friend, knowing how much she despises talking about her own love life, or lack thereof.

“Oh no, absolutely not, not this again. I’m going to get a drink.” You wave her off, stepping away from the group and making your way back towards the open bar.

“I hope I didn’t arrive just as we were talking about relationship stuff.” Bucky says as he arrives and finally finds his friends.

“I’m afraid you did.” Natasha confirms beside Sharon.

“In that case, I’m gonna follow Geeky’s lead and get a drink; I’ll certainly need one for that conversation.” Bucky excuses himself, the shadow of his dark blue suit follows the flow of your navy gown worn tonight; you surely matched by complete accident.

“Imagine if they were married.” Sharon thinks aloud to Natasha.

“Who? Barnes and Geek-a-Chic? Please, they’d kill each other within a week of being married.” Natasha argues.

“I hope y'all aren’t talking about our Barnes and Techie, because there’s no way in hell they’d be caught dead with each other like that.” Sam butts in, Steve by his side.

“C’mon guys, think about it. It’s like opposites attract and all that. Plus, I think they are the only people that are a match for their own wits.” Sharon explains.

“I don’t know, babe. They’re constantly at each other’s necks; I don’t even think they’ve had a normal conversation with each other without insults or bickering.” Steve says.

“I suggest we do the impossible.” Tony interrupts, clearly having had a few too many drinks.

“While we wait for the wedding to come, we are going to set those two up together.” He hiccups.

“Tony, you’re crazy.”

“That’ll never work.”

“I’m with it!” Sam shouts, excited to play along and work with Tony on his shenanigans.

“Atta boy, Sammy! C’mon, Sharon? Nat? Steve? Where’s Clint, I know he’ll be on board with this.” Tony whips his head around in all directions looking for the archer.

“C’mon, guys, it’ll be fun! The worst that can happen is that we fail.” Sam tries to convince.

“I think the worst that can happen is that we succeed! Imagine Barnes and her together!” Natasha exclaims.

“I just want her to be happy. She deserves a good boyfriend and husband.” Sharon says sweetly, Sam words slowly convincing her.

“I agree.” Steve chimes in, wanting the best for his own best friend as well.

The five of them turn towards the bar to see Bucky and their favorite tech nerd pushing and shoving at each other’s shoulders, clearly fighting about something once again.

“Alright, I’m on board. Let’s do it.” Natasha finally agrees.

John watches the happy friend group from a distance. He sees his brother smiling and laughing with his friends; his famous, talented, skilled friends, his friends who are soon going to be married and live happily ever after.

Not if he can help it, anyway.

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