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irondad-defensesquad · 2 months

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The perks of being a wallflower - Chapter 1

Also posted on AO3!

I spent the entire day writing this. The second chapter will be posted shortly, I hope.

There might be some timeline inaccuracies but the MCU already sucks at that, so bear with me, lmao.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - mentions of bullying, death, suicidal thoughts and self-harm.

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

To Iron Man,

My name is Peter Parker and you’re my favorite hero! Look, I drew you! Your armor is pretty hard to draw but I tried.

I like building stuff too! I wanna grow up to be just like you one day. I heard you built stuff when you were just five. That’s so cool!

Sincerely,

Peter, age 7

Parker

To Iron Man,

Hi! It’s Peter again. Parker. I dunno if you remember me. Did you get my first letter? You must be busy being the coolest hero in the world so I understand if you couldn’t answer.

Anyway I’m going to the Stark Expo! For a whole week! I’m gonna see you up close!! My Uncle Ben is the best. He’s a big fan too!

See you there!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker, age 9

To Iron Man,

I can’t believe I actually met you!! Twice!!! You said “nice work, kid”! Did you remember me??

Yeah too bad I’m grounded… I really scared Uncle Ben and Aunt May. But thanks to you I’m okay! This was the best week of my life! Do you think we’re gonna meet again? I dunno but it would be nice.

I hope you’re ok after all that. That Hammer guy is nobody! That’s what he gets for messing with you!

Anyway I have to go to bed, good night!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Iron Man

Dear Mr. Stark,

Hi, Peter again! How are you? I got really worried… I never thought I’d see aliens like this. Then I saw on TV that you flew right into the wormhole and I got so scared that you would get stuck in it forever…

Do you ever get scared, Mr. Stark? Aunt May and Uncle Ben tell me they’re surprised that I don’t get scared often. But I was really scared something happened to you or to them. I don’t wanna lose anyone else…

We’re all okay though! But I still hope you’re safe now, Mr. Stark.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I saw what happened in Malibu and I got so scared! I’m really sorry you lost your home. I was so sad and afraid you were gone, but Uncle Ben told me you’re gonna find a way out of this. You always know what to do, Mr. Stark! You’re a genius! I know you’ll come back somehow and defeat the bad guys, like you always do! I’m rooting for you!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

P.S.: I tried to draw you again but no armor this time! Because you’re a hero with or without the armor! I hope you know that. Even if I never send you this… or any other letters…

Dear Mr. Stark,

Happy birthday!

I actually had a science fair today… and I built my own miniature arc reactor! It’s not as good as yours of course. But I got a pretty good grade! Even if I didn’t win the fair, I was in third place!

There’s this kid Flash, though, I think he got jealous and he tried to break my arc reactor. I didn’t let him! He really doesn’t like me and I dunno why. I never did anything to him. But I guess nobody likes me at school except for Ned, who’s my best friend. We like building LEGOs together.

Okay, sorry for rambling, Mr. Stark. Hope you have a great birthday!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I had a bad day.

I mean I guess everyone has bad days. Maybe you have bad days too. But sometimes my bad days are really bad.

Flash is even worse, because he usually just insults me and I ignore him, but he has some friends that do the dirty work. Like today they shoved me in a locker and the hallway was completely empty. It was dark and very tight in there, it was kinda hard to breathe. I screamed for help but no one would hear. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t call anyone. Eventually the janitor found me and let me out.

I think I might be claustrophobic like the doctors say. I felt like I was gonna die in that locker…

I didn’t wanna tell Aunt May and Uncle Ben. They’re always busy and I know Uncle Ben is gonna get really angry. Like he doesn’t get angry at me but he doesn’t have to worry. I don’t want him to worry and get upset because of me.

… Sorry for being a downer, Mr. Stark. Sometimes I just really hate school.

Hope you’re ok.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Have you ever seen Star Wars? I watched it with Ned and I love it! We binged the movies on the weekend, then we spent all day talking about it and all the theories we came up with.

Ned really gets me, we’re into the same things and we really laugh a lot. I’m really glad to have him.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I can’t really sleep.

I’ll be honest, I write when I can’t sleep. And I have to be real quiet or else Aunt May or Uncle Ben will find out and they’re gonna get worried about me.

I dunno, nothing particularly bad happened today. I mean, Flash was a jerk like always, but it never went too far. I just feel something tight in my chest that won’t really go away. Sometimes I find it hard to breathe, like I’m still stuck in that locker.

Now that I think of it, not even Ned knows about the locker thing. I guess only the janitor knows. And you. Kinda.

But I think everyone knows Flash taunts me and they don’t really do anything. But I don’t want my aunt and my uncle getting worked up about it. I feel like my school wouldn’t really care anyway.

…

Would you care, Mr. Stark?

I dunno. Maybe not.

Writing to you helps anyway.

So… thanks.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Liz is so pretty.

She’s a girl in my school. She’s not in my grade but she’s in the Decathlon with me. She��s smart and funny and cute and gorgeous…

Flash can tell and yeah, he loves being a jerk about it.

Liz is nice to me. Well, she’s nice to everyone. But she compliments me and I feel all fuzzy inside. It’s so weird.

I kinda hate that I started writing stuff to her too. I’m DEFINITELY not sending that to her. It’s so cheesy!

I think she likes Star Wars. She was super into my conversation with Ned today. And then I couldn’t really concentrate with her eyes on me, totally interested in what I had to say…

Mr. Stark, what should I do? How do you talk to pretty people?? And why am I asking this to Iron Man???

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

I really hate Valentine’s day.

I mean, I like Liz but she already gets a bunch of stuff, obviously, because she’s the greatest girl ever and it’s not like anything I do would be good enough. But all the Valentine’s cards I get are pranks. Once Flash and his friends pranked me and the card told me to wait after school. And I stayed there and nobody showed up. I even bought flowers and chocolate but I threw them away.

I did make a little card though. But it wasn’t that red heart we’re all familiar with. I kinda modeled it after your new arc reactor, Mr. Stark. I’m not really good at art, but it looked kinda cool.

In the end I just gave it to Ned, because he’s probably the only person who makes me feel good. And he loved the card so much. He gave me chocolate in return!

I guess it wasn’t so bad.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

It’s my birthday! And I got a camera!

I remember playing with my uncle’s old camera as a kid, and he thought I was a great photographer. So he and my aunt surprised me with a brand new camera! I’m also in a photography extra class so I can learn more!

It’s really fun. I actually love analog photography. I love the whole process, the chemicals, that red light in the dark… It's still a laboratory and I’m all for it.

And at least it’s the class where I can enjoy myself without Flash pestering me so much.

I’m having so much fun!

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

Dear Mr. Stark,

Sorry for not writing in a while.

First, would you get mad if I told you I went to Oscorp?

I mean, I went there with my school. It was okay, I guess. Though I would rather go to the Avengers Tower if I’m being honest. I dunno why Midtown never arranged it.

Anyway, I took some cool pictures with my camera. But I think I got bitten by something. Then I learned about the radioactive spiders they kept there. It was creepy. I don’t like spiders.

The bite in my hand looks pretty nasty. In fact my hand kinda hurts. And so does my head.

I should probably stop writing.

Dear Mr. Stark,

Okay. A lot of stuff happened.

1) I don’t have to wear glasses anymore. When I try, my vision looks pretty blurry.

2) I can glue myself to things and I think that’s worse when I’m too anxious. I literally couldn’t get out of bed one morning without my hands holding my blanket.

3) I can hear EVERYTHING. All the other floors in the building, even whispers or flies, stuff like that. I can overhear Aunt May and Uncle Ben talking or the calls they have to take.

4) My brain sorta screams when I sense any sort of threat. Like when Flash approached and I felt tense all over.

That definitely has something to do with that radioactive spider.

I had a pretty bad fever, my aunt and my uncle were pretty worried. No one really knew what was going on. I’m just glad it’s over. But now I have to deal with these… powers. And I wish I could turn them off. I thought of getting those soundproof headphones, y’know?

It’s so much. I know you don’t have powers, Mr. Stark, but what would you do if you were me? Would you be able to find something to quiet them down?

I can’t really talk to anyone else about this.

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

My Uncle Ben is the greatest guy ever. Besides you, of course.

He loves doing everything with me, like watching movies or going to baseball games. I love doing those things too. However, in the middle of the game, I think I had a “sensory overload”, like Aunt May said. Because I was really overwhelmed by all the screaming, the spit, the smells, the lights… I tried to be strong for my uncle but I made the excuse I had to use the restroom. Uncle Ben was going to take me there but I didn’t want him to lose the game so I decided to go alone. I think he could tell I wasn’t okay because he followed me and took me somewhere quieter. Uncle Ben is probably the most patient man I know because he didn’t get angry at me. In fact he suggested we should go home. I couldn’t really protest because I knew I wouldn’t handle the rest of the game with all those loud people.

He didn’t really talk to me on the ride home, but I heard him talking to Aunt May. He was pretty concerned. He said there was something off about me lately. Aunt May just told him to give me some rest for now.

I started crying in my room.

Now I can’t even enjoy baseball games with my uncle. Nor movies. When I found him watching TV, the noise and the light was too much for me. I felt so bad. I didn’t even eat dinner. Aunt May had to leave me some so I wouldn’t go to bed without any food.

I hate this. I hate these new powers, these sensations.

Why can’t I be a normal kid again?

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

I can’t sleep, again. Even less now with these powers.

I have so many more questions to ask you, but there’s one I really want you to answer.

I’m a good kid or at least that’s what everyone tells me. I like to play, I’m a good student and I don't bother anyone. I love Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and I know they love me too. But sometimes, I get sad. I don’t cry even if I want to. My eyes are heavy, I know I’m overwhelmed, but I can’t sleep at all.

Do you get sad, Mr. Stark? What do you do when you get sad? How do you not get sad?

I really want a hug right now but I don’t want to wake up my aunt and my uncle, because they have to go to work early. Is it weird to say I want a hug from you, Mr. Stark? Is it weird to admit I wish you showed up at school to save me from bullies and my own powers? That’s stupid, right?

At least you’re never going to read these letters…

Sincerely,

Peter

Dear Mr. Stark,

Uncle Ben died.

He’s gone.

He’s really gone…

Ever since that baseball game, I started feeling more irritated. I distanced myself more and more. The bullying at school got worse. I started doing stupid things to my body. I didn’t want to tell you, Mr. Stark, but I began cutting myself again. I kind of stopped for a while but the habit returned. And when Uncle Ben found out, he got really upset. Like, he was more upset that I didn’t tell him I was suffering than he was angry at me being a brat. Even then, Uncle Ben could never bring himself to hate me.

But I was stupid. I ran away from home. Of course, he went after me.

And all I could hear was the shot.

Uncle Ben was lying on the floor, bleeding so much red.

I tried to say I was sorry… but I was too late.

He was gone.

I didn’t even want to go after who shot him. If anything, I killed Uncle Ben. I hurt him and I killed him.

Aunt May cried the entire week. I even stayed with her at night. I knew she didn’t want to be alone.

So the apartment is empty. Lonely. There is no TV airing games or movies anymore.

At least Ned is coming over sometimes or letting me stay over at his house, because I can’t handle that emptiness. It’s worse than loud noises.

I kind of wish Uncle Ben hated me so maybe he wouldn’t have gone after me.

I kind of wish he and Aunt May never took me in.

I wish I was never born at all.

My life just gets worse and worse… What's the point?

What’s the point, Mr. Stark?

I should’ve been shot, not Uncle Ben. He didn’t deserve it. I did.

I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry I’m this mess.

I wish I could just die.

Dear Mr. Stark,

I think I’m managing my senses now.

I made my own suit. It’s not fancy like your suits of armor, but it helps me focus.

I guess I was inspired by you and Uncle Ben. I could use my powers for good.

So… I’m a vigilante, I guess.

You can call me Spider-Man.

I don’t really do anything interesting but I help the best I can.

School is not really going well, I had to give up a lot of things, mainly sports. That would just draw too much attention.

I have to be there for everyone, or else I know I’m going to face my really bad thoughts. I don’t want them to take over me.

I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to write, so I want to thank you, Mr. Stark. I know you’re not going to read this, but you helped me in a really bad phase of my life. You still do. I hope you know you inspire a lot more people out there. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

(Chapter 2)

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #suicide mention tw #self-harm mention tw #self harm mention tw #sh mention tw #bullying mention tw #death mention tw #grief tw

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summer-sporking · 2 years

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dear god

Today’s fic is “dear god”, a Spider-Man fic by krystalpomme. Here’s a story in which our independent teen lead acts like a whiny ten-year-old.

The fic opens after the snap. Peter has returned to the world after five years, and Tony survived in this world, but he’s moved on and pays more attention to his daughter now. Peter misses May, whose death still feels recent, and Tony doesn’t say good night to him. It’s all very tragic.

Now, we’re getting to the good stuff.

He looked down at his cold soggy eggs that he had made himself this morning. Tony had dropped Morgan off at preschool earlier so everyone had breakfast before him. As a real family.

Oh no! How dare they have breakfast together before their young daughter goes to school. Peter would have to—gasp—get up earlier if he wanted to eat with them. Truly, an unreasonable expectation for a teenager—wake up in time for family breakfast, or grab food on your own. I’m also curious why the eggs are cold, if he just cooked them.

Also, Happy is going to drive Peter to school today, because Pepper and Tony are apparently busy. Peter feels abandoned by this, and apologizes for making Happy drive to the house to get him.

Telling him to stop saying ‘sorry’ never made his guilt subside. In fact, it had made it worse now knowing that he had probably been bothering Happy with tasks that his caretaker was supposed to carry out. He had stopped talking.

So, I’m all for parents doing parenting tasks themselves when possible, rather than delegating them out. But this is a commute, with a guy who is both close to the family and being paid to do this as part of his job. It’s not some deep emotional thing—it’s “a long drive” to school, that has to be done everyday. If that’s bad, I can’t imagine what they think of kids who take a bus or walk to school.

Next up, Peter is very excited to spend time with Tony after school. My prediction is that Tony will no-show, for some more angst, especially after he turns down a chance to spend time with Ned.

He was constantly checking the clock to see if it was any closer to 2:30.

Wait, wait. The minimum high school day in New York is 5.5 hours (source), and the average is about 6.5 hours (source). If the school ends at 2:30, it must start by 9:00 at the latest, and 8:00 is more likely. Given the commute is long, and Morgan was gone by the time Peter was sitting down to breakfast, which must have been around 7:00, I have to ask: how early does this preschool start?

After this, we cut to the end of the school day. Peter forgot his phone, presumably so he doesn’t get the text saying that Tony won’t make it. So, while he’s waiting, Flash shows up to bully Peter, and he is harsh, targeting the family deaths, and call him a liar about the internship and insult his clothes.

Peter looked down in shame, his clothes had worn thin and accumulated holes over the time they had spent withering away for the past 5 years. Tony hadn’t noticed so he hadn’t bothered to upgrade his wardrobe.

Ah, yes, because clothes definitely just wither away within five years if they’re not being worn. Dude, this is a sign that your closet is infested with moths. And you have a lot of clothes made from wool or silk. A shopping spree isn’t going to fix that.

My prediction came true! Tony does not arrive. Instead, everyone leaves, Peter is standing outside sadly in the rain, and all of the teachers and staff have left by the time he thinks to go inside to find a phone. I guess it’s been hours and all the after-school activities are over—the sun is setting, which means it’s at least 4:30. I do actually feel bad for him here and I don’t blame him for a little private crying, though I think he should have called earlier or waited inside, so at least someone could lend him a phone before kicking him out when the building closed.

Fortunately, someone is paying attention to this kid’s schedule, since he apparently has no backup plan to make his own way home or find a phone to borrow. Happy shows up, and Peter is crushed to see that Tony isn’t with him, which in turn upsets Happy.

“I would have never told you that Tony was picking you up if I had known that—”

That prompts a good question. What exactly did Happy say earlier? “Good news, he said he would have some free time in the afternoon since Morgan has a playdate with a school friend.” It was never clear who was supposed to pick him up, unfortunately, but it was clear they were supposed to spend time together. Ouch.

After that, Peter is sad and gets driven home, falls asleep, and wakes up in the morning to find that Tony cooked breakfast but not for him. Nothing funny in here, Tony is being a bad father and ignoring the older kid too much, even given the toddler in the room. At this point, I’m really wondering how their relationship actually got to the point of being a father-son relationship, if this is how Tony acts all the time. Maybe he was better before the Blip and five years gone? As depicted, it seems like Peter would have worked with Tony but developed the close personal relationship with Happy.

Tony wasn’t going to help him, he bet that Tony wouldn’t even show up. Peter got up and grabbed the flyer, opting to just start the project without the older man. He would finish his part while Ned did his and they would win all on their own.

Oh! I didn’t mention the science fair. Peter’s been wanting help with it, for some reason. Honestly, I would expect the kids to do most of the work on their own. I doubt most of the parents are doing a lot of work on the kids’ projects. Is that not cheating, after a certain point? Just go to Ned’s apartment, or have him come over, and work on it together, seriously.

The we have some more drama, which is contrived but not really past the level I’d expect in this sort of fic. Peter is startled and knocks over an object, which turns out to be a birthday gift for Morgan, and Tony is mad. He’s very dismissive of the science fair and fails to realize the teenager cut his arm. Tony is being an asshole, yeah. But…

Why did this happen to him? All he wanted was someone to hold him and love him like they would their own child. He wanted to be a priority for once in his miserable life, he wanted to feel wanted. His stupid prayer was a joke.

Peter definitely needs to be seeing a therapist. This is so incredibly dramatic. This whole scene is so over the top.

Tony’s heart broke in that moment, hearing the boy he saved the world for let out such a sound of agony.

Perspective switch time! Tony feels awful. This feels overblown, but I guess he should feel awful so it’s not so bad, and Happy yells at him.

He was the cause of a 16 year old’s endless pain.

Yeah, this is what I mean. e n d l e s s p a i n

What was he even going to say to Peter? There was no way this was going to fixed so easily.

I don’t know about that. We’re almost to the end of the fic, and I’m expecting some resolution.

And they finally talk! And after twelve sentences of dialogue, everything is good and everyone is happy and they’re all a good family now. Tony sings his 16-year-old son to sleep. The end.

#sporking #mst #mcu #mcu spiderman #spider man

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heliads · 3 years

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Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

someone i once knew : b.b - p.5

with hydra in the compound and you left to fend for yourself, now would be the worst time to start remembering everything, right? (2.2k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

- i also have an etsy shop, i just released wandavision themed tshirts if you’d like to check those out! -

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX

(also thank you again and again for the love and excitement for this series - crazy that there’s only one part left now ah!)

“Come on! You must know something!” The leader of the trio yells as he punches you in the stomach, watching you curl into yourself, falling into the broken glass as you suppress a cry.

With a shaky breath, you force your eyes up to meet the three men. “I, I don’t know anything!” You state the same thing you’ve been telling them ever since they found you.

“Sure you don’t, Princess.” One of the others huffs before stepping forward, picking you up by your hair causing you yelp, feeling various cuts form across your exposed skin. “Now, shall we try that again?”

Weakly, you look across the room to see one of the monitors starting to power up again; FRIDAY is coming back online. “Like I said,” You force confidence, despite feeling your body giving in. “I don’t know anything.”

“Wrong answer, Princess.” The leader sighs and as soon as he raises his fist, you close your eyes before his impact hits.

“You must have something, right?” Steve leans across the chair as Tony keeps his eyes glued to his phone, watching as FRIDAY powers back up and the security cameras begin to switch on, floor by floor.

Tony hums in response as he moves through the various rooms on each floor. “Come on, come on,” He mutters to himself, feeling Bucky watching him from across the jet.

“She couldn’t have left the lab, Tony, check the second floor.” Bruce calls out, still glued to his chair thinking about your question- “Do you think I’m evil?”

Bucky listens as Tony’s breathing halters upon finding the camera’s now active on the second floor. His eyes scan across the screen, watching as the cameras move across each room until they activate in the lab you’re in- or were in.

“Oh, kid.” Tony sighs, feeling his heart sink as he focuses on the screen seeing shattered glass covering the ground whilst you lie limply on top of it all.

“No,” Bucky speaks up, having stalked over behind Tony. “no.” Bucky repeats himself, shaking his head. “She’ll be fine, she has to be.”

“Anything?” One of the men speaks through their comms, swearing under their breath in Russian whilst you sit upright on the broken glass under close watch by the other two agents. “We have a hostage.” He states, looking over his shoulder to see you bruised and bloodied.

Yet, you spare a glance to one of the hidden cameras Tony warned you about when you first took on the job. One of the reasons why FRIDAY’s systems are so advanced is due to the cameras being barely visible to the naked eye. They’re fractions of dust that linger, capturing live footage without you knowing.

With the little might remaining in your system, you nod in hope someone somewhere might see it. Even if you don’t make it out of here alive, maybe they’ll at least know what went down.

“Head down, Princess.” You feel a kick to your side, wincing at the repetitive action adding to the bruises forming crossing your skin.

“My name is Y/n.” You spit out, defying everything your brain is telling you. “I’m not your Princess.” Lifting your head up, you smirk despite the cut on your lip tearing. “And you, you’re done for.”

A laugh escapes your lips as you’re forced back to the ground, a cocktail of cries and laughs leaving you as your surroundings begin to blur and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“What did you do?!” You faintly hear the leader bark at the two men watching you as your eyes close, a familiar voice pulling you in and this time, you can’t resist the need for an escape.

Sitting on the bench with your eyes remaining shut, you enjoy the breeze twirling through your hair and the laughter from children running along the docks; their giggles igniting another bout of heartache for something you’ll never have.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know who the clicking of heels along the sidewalk belongs to before she sits down beside you.

“There’s still time to change your mind.” Peggy states, glancing down to notice you rolling your ring in your fingertips. “I just, I want to make sure you know what this means, the implications of this.”

“I know what I’m doing.” You tell her sternly, slipping the diamond ring back on your ring finger. “Is he ready for me?” Glancing up, Peggy nods in response as you both head toward the car waiting for you.

“Come on then, Y/n.” Peggy can’t hide the sorrow in her expression as you eagerly climb into the car. After all this time, you still can’t be dissuaded from this decision.

As you arrive, you’re guided through the corridors that you know like the back of your hand. You smile at the scientists, their assistants and even the cleaners whom you know on a first-name basis.

“There she is,” Howard claps his hands as you walk in, Peggy following behind you. “how are you feeling?” He asks, guiding you past the lab filled with technicians, adding the finishing touches to the machine in question.

“I’m ready.” You respond, walking into a small office as Peggy closes the door, leaving the three of you to talk in private.

“We’ll run this as planned, alright? You’ll be woken up in six months to ensure the machine is fit for purpose and then a year, and so on.” Howard explains, and you nod along. “No going back once you’re in there, kid.” Howard chuckles, catching sight of you playing with the diamond ring on your finger once again.

“He’d be proud of you, Y/n.” Peggy comments, resting her hand on your shoulder as tears form in your eyes. “Both of them would be.”

Sniffing quietly, you remove the ring from your finger and place it on the table, knowing it’ll be placed with the rest of your personal belongings.

“What are we waiting for then?” You ask, pushing the chair back as Howard opens the door and silence ensues as you walk toward the machine.

You remain still beside Peggy as Howard runs over a few things with his team. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Peggy?” Your lip trembles as you focus on the brunette.

Trying to hide the frown forming on her red lips, Peggy reaches out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “You know I can’t say whether it is right or wrong, Y/n.” Peggy admits. “But, if this is what you want and need to do, then so be it.” She adds, seeing a hint of the Brooklyn boy she loved in you as you step forward, volunteering for the unknown.

“I will be brave.” You mutter to yourself as Howard motions for you. “Thank you for everything, Peg.”

Standing in front of the machine, you watch as the metal door opens for you to step in. With a shaky breath, you lean back into the moulded space built for you.

Lying back, three scientists strap you down, asking countless times whether the straps are too tight or not, but none dare to look you in the eye.

“Well done, team.” Howard speaks up as the scientists back away, leaving you strapped in and now the reality of this is weighing heavy on your mind. “Now Y/n, you can back down, there’s still time.” Howard explains as Peggy hovers behind him, her hands closed into each other.

“I’m good,” You assure him with a smile. “I’m doing this for those we all lost.” You admit.

“Alright then.” Howard nods. “See you in six months, Y/n.”

Closing your eyes, you can hear muffled conversations between the team before an overwhelming cool breeze captures your ankles and works it way upwards.

“I will be brave. I will be brave, James.” You whisper with your last breath before passing out, unaware of how long it would be until you awoke once more.

“Okay, the Agents are inside the compound and there’s a specialist team on their way to help Y/n.” Tony explains as he projects the footage from his phone for all the team to see.

Bucky remains glued to the projection, unable to take his eyes off your lifeless body as the three HYDRA agents talk amongst themselves, ignoring the slightest movements from you whilst their backs are turned.

“Help is on its way, Buck.” Steve mutters to Bucky, hoping to incite some form of reaction, but Bucky doesn’t respond. “Y/n will be alright, we both know she’s tougher than she looks.” Steve chuckles, picturing you chasing several bullies with a bin lid and a pocket knife you stole from Bucky after they gave Steve a split lip.

“I just,” Bucky uneasily raises his voice. “I can’t lose her again, Steve.”

Resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve holds back the sigh from his lips as he watches the footage, noticing your body twitching. “I don’t think you will, look.” Steve motions and Bucky steps closer, eyeing the projection carefully.

“What’s happening?” Tony asks, looking up to the two soldiers as Bucky’s jaw clenches tightly.

“She’s remembering something.” Bucky states. “Come on, doll. Please, wake up.” He pleads under his breath, wanting to see you open your eyes, to wake up and be alright.

Voices rise with aggression around you as you begin to gain consciousness, the ruckus from before is only getting worse.

“No, we can’t!” One of the men yells whilst the other carries on conversing in Russian, unaware that you've woken up.

Remaining on the ground, you try to control your breathing as snippets of what you saw and what you said replay in your mind.

“I,” You breathe out as your cheeks become damp once more with a mix of tears and blood.

“And this is Bucky.” Steve nods to the taller brunette with the suave smile etched across his lips.

“James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.” Bucky steps forward, lifting your hand up and kisses it softly, never breaking eye contact from you despite the laugh of sheer disgust that left your lips.

“So what do I get to call you?” You ask, now crossing your arms over your chest whilst Bucky hums, taking the sight of you and the beauty you radiate in.

“Well, that’s up to you, doll.” He remarks with a wink before turning around, missing the sight of you rolling your eyes in response.

“You comin’ Y/n?” Steve calls out as Bucky walks ahead, expecting you like all the other dames in the city to follow him and hang on to his every word.

Yet, you stand your ground. “Not today, Steve. I’ve got more important things to do than pretend to be James Barnes’ play toy.”

Bucky turns on his heels quickly. “Oh?” He mutters, raising a brow to you as you simply nod. Unsure of himself, Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, combing his locks back as he tuts in bewilderment.

“Nice to meet you, James.” You salute the man before turning around yourself, hiding the smile forming on your face.

“She, she,” Bucky stutters over his words, a sight Steve struggles to fathom.

“Come on, Buck. I’m sure you’ll see her again real soon.”

“I remember.” You whisper, slowly reeling your hand to your mouth to hold back the snigger that dares to sound.

Echoes of footsteps rushing through the corridors pull you away from your own revelation as a series of Agents come into view with their guns are held up, ready to fire.

Within seconds, gunfire rings through your ears as you cover them, curling into yourself as the three men fall to the ground.

“Y/n?” Someone speaks up, and slowly you uncoil yourself. “Can you stand?”

Unsure of your own voice, you shake your head. “We need a medic, now!” Another calls out whilst you look over to the three men, crimson pooling around them.

“I, where’s Bucky?” You slowly ask, looking up at the Agent before you who blankly stares at you. “Where is he?” You repeat yourself.

The Agent rises to his feet and walks away whilst the medic rushes through, helping you onto a stretcher as you cry out in agony, whimpering for Bucky, your Bucky.

“She’s asking for him, Ma’am.” The Agent mutters to Maria Hill as they both stand by, watching as you’re taken toward the elevator, strapped into the stretcher.

Maria nods. “I’ll get Fury. See to the jet.” She explains before taking her phone and calling the last liable person for this. “Subject 359 is conscious, and has questions.” She simply states.

“And where is she now?” Fury asks through the line.

“Heading to the med bay. She was in bad shape by the time we found her.” Maria explains, passing by the bloodied shards of glass you fell into. “They’re all going to have questions, Nick.”

“I know,” Fury huffs. “and I guess it’s about damn time we answer them.”

L A S T P A R T

(thank you to the following for all the love so far! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know)

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart @soccer-100000 @sunflowerbunny2 @kickingn-ames @choerriesmotion @why-thats-just-delightful @officialfictionalwreck @romanoff-nataliaalianovna @hersilencedscreams @b-r-stark @dezzxmx @thearcher-temis @i-lost-my-shoe-down-a-drain @girl-obsessed-with-things

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starkerforlife6969 · 3 years

Text

Starker - Morgan’s best friend Peter

I’ve seen these incredible posts going around by @fearlesstarker : so I just had to write a little something. Fluff ahead, kids.

Morgan tries to take a moment to really think about it.

She sits back and straightens her spine; the way she does in class when she’s about to prove that everyone in the room- including her professor- is a moron. She cocks her head, examines Peter Parker opposite her, and thinks about it. Truly thinks about it.

“Yes,” she concludes after a moment, all the data filing away neatly, everything coming up a match.

Peter looks up at her, eyes rimmed-red with tears, hair a brown, scraggly mess atop his head. “What do you mean?” He sniffles, still in his pyjamas, still smelling like cologne too expensive to be his.

“You and my dad.” She says, nodding, “Yes.” She gets up and heads to the kitchen. She has a studio-apartment, of course. Her dad would settle for nothing less.

Peter follows at her heels: radiating anxiety. “Morgan, I-”

“It’s fine, Peter. Do you want some tea?” Never espresso’s for Peter, he has enough energy as it is. She pulls down two white ceramic mugs.

“Morgan.” He says again, voice firmer this time. Deeper. She still remembers hearing it break when they were both thirteen, curled up together in a tent on the school’s camping trip.

They’d been shit at building their tent. It had collapsed in the middle of the night and they’d lain there, under stars, sharing secrets. His voice had cracked for the very first time, and she was the first person to know, and she’d held his hand and-

“Morgan.”

The mugs are shaking in her hands.

“Morgan, look at me.”

His hands then, on her shoulders, turning her round, and she’s being hugged by her best friend. By her brother. By Peter B Parker.

He’s taller than her- but only in the physical sense, and she buries her face in his chest and tears come and he holds her so tight- like he doesn’t remember how strong he is. Like he thinks he’s still that scrawny thirteen year old who needed Morgan to protect him from bullies. But he isn’t. Not really.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into her hair, then thinks better of it. He pulls away and looks into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry I slept with your dad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to. I’m sorry for keeping this a secret. I’m so, so sorry.”

She wants to tell him it’s okay, but she’s crying too hard.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” He vows, his voice breaking, “it was a one-time thing. I won’t- I won’t pursue it. Not if you’re not okay with it. I’m sure- I- I know your dad feels the same way.”

“It’s just so…”

“I know.” Peter cuts her off, pained, “I know how it looks. But I promise- it isn’t like that. We connected last summer, remember? When he helped me fix up my car? And-and it was like we were seeing each other for the first time. He’s a good man, your dad, I swear, Morgs, and-and-please, please don’t hate me-”

“God, Peter.” She laughs, watery and honest, “I’m not upset because of any of that! “ She smacks his shoulder. “How can you know me so well and be so blind? I’m scared I’ll lose you. You’re mine, Peter Parker, d’you hear me?”

His face breaks into the most glorious smile, and she knows she loves him the way she loved him when they were thirteen. When she understood family was so much more than blood. “All yours.” He promises. “That will never change.”

She believes him. She sighs, and wipes her cheeks, and nods, pulling herself together. “Well alright then,” she breathes, “but don’t think for one second I’m calling you dad.”

His laughter sounds like music.

***

Evidently, she’s not the only one who thinks so.

Because a month later, she’s sitting at the dining table, and her dad’s setting down something that looks dangerously like home-made spaghetti, and there are candles on the table, and it’s subtle- but she can see it.

Her dad’s sweating.

“Looks good.” She says, even though it doesn’t, trying to calm him down.

Tony gives her a knowing look. She grins at him.

“Don’t sass me, baby Stark. I spent all day on this and in spite of DUM-E’s best efforts, there weren’t even any fires.”

“Not any?” She arches her eyebrow.

Tony winces.

Peter...laughs.

Morgan watches how her dad lights up at the sound. How he brandishes his serving spoon at Peter warningly, and their eyes meet, and there’s a moment- something soft- and raw- just like the meatballs.

“I’ll get us take-out,” Morgan says gently, and she’s worried for a second, that they don’t hear her. That this is how it’ll be from now on- she used to be both of their number ones, and now she’s both of their number two’s.

She orders from the Chinese place across the road- the one that knows them, and the three of them sit in front of the TV and settle in for a movie.

Peter dishes out, and he serves Morgan first. All the spring-rolls and the crispiest noodles.

Something small- bright and lovely- burns within her as she takes her plate.

And when, during the film, she and Peter begin to doze off- it’s her who gets the blanket first. Draped lovingly over her by her dad. It’s her head he kisses before he tends to Peter and she knows- she hasn’t lost anything.

She has only gained.

The Press-

Don’t care. It’s weird. Morgan keeps waiting for the backlash. In fact, all of Tony’s team seem to be waiting, but it never comes. It seems that most people expect handsome billionaires to have boyfriends half their age.

“Huh,” Peter says, in a new, custom-made suit that compliments his skin-tone, “I guess that means you’re old news, Tony Stark,” and he kisses the edge of Tony’s mouth. Morgan pretends not to watch.

Her dad turns to Peter, grinning, mischievous, young in a way he hasn’t seemed in a while. “Don’t worry. I can do something about that.”

Proposing to Peter on the red carpet for GLAMOUR’s man of the year award does spark the headlines.

“Really, dad?” Morgan laughs, phone nestled into the crook of her neck because she can’t find her airpods.

“What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“More like a flair for the idiotic.” Comes another voice, a little muffled, and Morgan smiles.

“Is that Peter? Tell him I say hi.”

“Morgan says hi.”

“Oh! Say hey back.”

“Peter says hey.”

“Is he coming up for the LA workshop?”

“Are you coming up for the- hey, you know what, you talk to each other.”

“So grouchy in the morning.” Peter teases, and there’s the sound of kissing, and Morgan faux-retches.

When she thought about it, way at the start, she did the pros and the cons. Their obvious compatibility, mutual interests, and potential were some of the heaviest pros.

There were cons, too.

When she makes the drive up, through snow and sleet, back to Stark Tower. Back into New York. In the middle of her academic year even though her dad told her it was fine (and she knew it wasn’t fine) she sees him sitting in his lab, buried deep in work.

“Dad.” She says quietly, ruffling his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he says gruffly, voice rough from dis-use. “I told you, you didn’t have to come. Tell me you didn’t drive in this weather. I would have had Happy-”

“Dad.” She says again, because she’s learnt from watching Peter how to deal with people who are just a little too clever and a little too impatient. Who does he think she gets it from?

She rests her head on his shoulder and Tony sets down his instruments, but Morgan’s already seen the way his hands were shaking.

“You guys will be okay.” She promises, because she’s a genius but also because there are some things you just know for sure. Without a doubt.

She finds Peter at a bar outside of Cal-Tech.

He’s nursing an orange juice, but he smells like whiskey.

He cringes when he sees her. “Morgan, I know this must be so awkward-”

“A whiskey neat.” She tells the bar-tender, who squints at her like he’s trying to figure out her age, before recognizing her and stumbling in his haste to obey. “Nothing to be awkward about.” She says. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I love you both. Let’s just drink and maybe do some karaoke.”

Peter peers at her, as if trying to gauge her sincerity, and he slides back onto the barstool. “Okay,” he says eventually, “but only if it’s High School Musical. And only if I get to be Troy.”

“You can be Ryan.”

“If you’re Chad.”

They grin at each other.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Morgan’s the one in a white dress at the wedding and that feels...right, somehow. Weird. But right.

Her dad’s in some designer ocean-blue suit. It looks effortless on him. Peter’s in a deep burgundy, a bordeaux, and he cups Tony’s jaw in his hand and whispers something that makes Tony’s entire body ease. Tensionless. Free from burden.

Morgan hasn’t seen that very often.

There’s crying (theirs, Morgan will insist to the tabloids, and not hers at all) and there are doves, and the beach, and food, and dancing and golden rings on fingers.

A little after midnight, she’s about to head back to the hotel when she sees them. Two lone figures under the stars.

“How was that?” Tony whispers, arm around Peter’s waist, voice soft as waves.

“Pretty good for a first wedding.” Peter teases, kissing the underside of Tony’s jaw. “It was perfect, Tony. But everything’s perfect with you.”

“I’m not perfect,” he whispers.

“No.” Peter agrees, smiling, and he wraps his arms around Tony’s neck. “We are imperfectly perfect together. I love you.”

Tony kisses him like he can’t help himself, before he pulls back and traces Peter’s eyelashes. “I love you.”

Then, both of them, together: “We love you too, Morgan.”

She gasps, and darts back into the shadows- all fruitless, of course. They’ve seen her. They will always see her.

But then the taxi comes and she sees her own face in the rear-view mirror.

She’s smiling. Just as hard as they are.

#fluff #starker #Peter and Morgan are best friends #Morgan stark #Tony stark #Peter parker #college student peter #college student morgan #marriage

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vdlest · 3 years

Text

2am knock on my door

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary:

After Tony's death, Cap's disappearance, and end of Thanos, everybody go on separate ways to continue their lives. You became alone. But one rainy night, you heard a knock on your door, only to find Bucky Barnes soaking wet outside your apartment. You soon realized that you're not the only person who feels that kind of sadness and loneliness. That makes the two of you.

Warning:

Nothing that I could think of

It is not a secret that after Tony and Nat's death, Cap's disappearance, and your fight with Thanos, everybody go on their separate ways.

Wanda may have experienced a tough time to accept everything that has happened, but she did anyway. She's somewhere out there, preparing herself for the time that she'll be needed to exercise her powers and strength.

Spider-man kept his promise that he'll always be in the neighborhood. He's a full-time student and a full-time Spider-man at the same time. What a great kid.

The Guardians, of course, they are in the galaxy, doing what they have to do, alongside with Thor. They're doing everything in their power to protect the galaxy from going chaotic again.

Sam, as the new Captain America, is having a mission with Torres as they are tracking down the rest of the Flag Smashers. The ex-Winter Soldier, the White Wolf, James Buchanan Barnes, is doing his amendment to those people who are still on his list.

And here you are, all alone in your two-storey apartment. Waiting for the call of mission, and doing some training on the side with Sam and Bucky, when they're not busy of course.

Everyone check-up on each other from time to time. In fact, everyone's planning to have a Christmas party this coming December, but that's too far to be excited about. It's only May for Christ's sake. They are always reminding you that they are always around, for you, no matter how far they are. But you still feel empty and feel lonely.

Steve's not here anymore to have late night talks and coffee with.

Tony's gone for real.

Nat's not coming back and you got to live with that.

You are just with yourself.

But one rainy night, you heard a knock on your door.

You sleepily checked the time on your alarm clock. It was 2 am. 2 in the freaking morning.

You're not the type of person who invites people at your house, especially at this time. So, you questioned yourself as you get up and grab your robe.

"Who could this human being be?" you groaned as you make your way downstairs.

You are too sleepy to open the lights, so you just reached for the nearest lamp and that served as your light. You walk towards the door and removed all the locks that Sam and Bucky installed for you, for your safety.

As soon as you finished unlocking your door, you opened it.

"Barnes?" your eyes widened as your y/e/c eyes traveled to the blue-eyed soldier in front of you, "What on earth are you doing up here at this hour? And why are you showering in the rain?" you asked him.

He is soaking wet because of the rain. He must be riding his motorcyle without any rain coat.

After you questioned him, you realized that the James Buchanan Barnes in front of you right now is different from the James Buchanan Barnes you always interact with. That cocky and naughty James Barnes who always bully Sam when the three of you are together. There's sadness and loneliness in his eyes. Apart from that, you can also sense longingness in him for unknown reason.

"I didn't want to wake you and bother your sleep, but..." he paused for a moment to find the right words to say to you, but he didn't find any lucky, "Anyway, I'll just leave."

Before he could turn his back on you, you grabbed his wrist.

"No, don't go, Barnes."

You have no idea why those words escaped through your mouth. All you know is that you didn't want him to go back to his house and be more miserable and lonely. You didn't want to push him away, as you can already sense that he's not okay. So you decided to ask him to stay since you have a spare room in your apartment.

"I'm not yet asleep when you knocked anyway," you lied to make him feel less guilty for waking you up, "I could use some company."

You and Bucky has been civil and professional with each other. You can call each other friends but you know that there's a borderline between the two of you. But seeing him in front of your house in the middle of the night, there must be something. And maybe it was the time that you and him will finally erase that borderline.

As soon as both of you entered the living room, you asked him to stay there and you quickly get a towel upstairs.

While waiting for you, Bucky roamed his eyes around your living room and he noticed the newly displayed pictures on your wall, which he can clearly see because of the lamp near it.

Your picture. Your picture with your family. Your photo with Steve. Your photo with Wanda and Nat. Your photo with Dr. Banner in a form of green, big guy and with Clint.

But the picture that stunned him was a picture of him and Sam.

As he was about to grab the picture frame, you saw him while you were holding the towel.

You've been unoccupied with the last few weeks, so you decided to have some redecoration on your apartment. You bought new printer and new picture frames. You decided to put the important people in your lives, until you've come to realized that you don't have pictures with Sam and Bucky, and they helped you once in a while.

"Barnes, here's your towel," you said as you walk towards him and handed him the towel.

His stare let go of the pictures and accepted the towel.

You offered him coffee but he refused. You also offered him with water, something to eat or anything, but he refused too. So, to make things not so awkward, you asked him the question you've been meaning to ask him.

"Barnes, wha---"

He cut you off, "Call me by my last name again and I'll leave."

He used the voice that he's using when Sam is annoying him with the use of his redwing. You were stunned when you heard him using that kind of tone to you.

"What do you want me to call you, then?" you confidently asked, trying to hide that you were kind of scared when he used that kind of voice towards you.

"Bucky."

You didn't have the guts to call him that because you once heard him telling Sam that he shouldn't call him Bucky because he's not Steve, so you thought that only close friends and family can call him that.

So you asked yourself, are we that close now?

"I installed your book shelf in your bedroom, I put up your headboard, I even fixed your dresser, and here you are, still calling me Barnes?" he scoffed as he sat down in the couch.

You sat down on the couch across him and cleared your throat, "Okay. So, Bucky, why did you really come here?" you asked.

The sadness and loneliness came back in his eyes as soon as you asked him. All of a sudden he remembered what really pushed him to go in your place.

"Before the Flag Smasher fiasco in New York, Sam advised me about making amendments," he started.

You nodded, "Which I'm already aware."

He glares at you, giving you a look if you want him to finish talking and explaining or you'll conitnue to give comments.

"Anyway, I came to Yori last night and..." he paused for a moment as he look down and avoided your gaze, "...and I told him about what I did to his son. I...I told him that I am the murderer of his son...I was the one who...who," the moment you saw him struggling to continue his story, you immediately stood up and walked towards him, "Fuck!" he hissed and closed his eyes while his palm is already on his face.

You are very much aware of everything that Bucky have been through. You also knew how much he wanted to forget everything he unwillingly do when he was still under Hydra's spell. You saw in him how eager he is to become a better version of himself.

"Bucky, it's not your fault," you said, trying to calm him down.

You were hesitatnt to sit beside him and put your arms around him to comfort him, but you could see that he really needs a friend, and that's the exact reason why he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. He needs a friend and the friend he needs is you.

You squeezed his shoulders as you calm him down.

"You are not the Winter Soldier anymore, Bucky," you reminded him, while waiting for him to meet your gaze.

"Winter Soldier will always be marked as me," he countered.

He finally removes his hands from his face and you saw how red his eyes were. He was holding his tears back.

This is the first time that you actually saw him like this, but your belief and confidence in him and his heart hasn't changed a bit. You've always believed that there's a good person in him despite his dark past. You know for a fact that he's already far from the man he was before. You believe tat one day, people will remember Bucky Barnes as the man who had his redemption by saving people's lives. You believe in him. You have faith in him. And you wanted him to know that.

"Did you know why I chose you and Sam to be my trainor when everybody left?" you asked him.

Of all people, you chose him and Sam.

His blue eyes finally meet with your gaze and he is totally waiting for you to asnwer your own question.

"Because when everybody left, you and Sam constantly checked up on me. When I told everyone that I am moving, you and Sam instantly came to my old place and helped me without asking you to do it. Especially you, Bucky," your hands traveled all the way his knuckles and gave it a squeeze, "I know we're not really that close, we don't tell everything to each other, but every single time we cross paths, you are very concern and you are always taking good care of me as if I'm your sister."

"I don't look at you like that," he suddenly said, stopping you from talking.

Suddenly, his metal arm was already on top your hand, holding it like it's a fragile flower vase.

You waited for him to continue from talking but he was just staring at you. You felt uncomfortable the way he looks at you because you feel butterflies roaming around your stomach so you decided to avoid his gaze and continue on making him feel better.

"As I was saying," you cleared your throat and closed your eyes for a second before you move your eyes back to him again, "Bucky, you should stop letting your past determine what you will be. Steve saw something good in you and that's what we're seeing in you. Unfortunately, you don't see that because you're too busy thinking of what others will think about you and your new life. You should stop that, Bucky. Do this whole thing for yourself, for the people who believe in you and that's us. We're here. I am here."

A small smile came up in his oh-so-perfect lips.

"Thank you," he said while his eyes are pinned on yours.

You looked down and smiled, "It's the least that I could do for the person who fixed almost everything in this apartment of mine."

"Hey, Sam helped too," he said, being too humble to accept the compliment.

He and Sam helped you, but knowing that Bucky have vibranium arms, he's much more help than Sam.

"Well, since only the two of us is here, let's just keep it a secret that you did all the work here," you joked as you moved your eyes back to him, "Just so you know, you are always welcome to come here, Bucky. I could also use a friend sometimes," and when you said that, you suddenly felt loneliness in your heart as well.

All those times that you've been in your bedroom, watching a dumb-romantic movie just because you're bored, the times when you had to eat breakfast, lunch, dinner and even midnight snack alone, because no one's around to accompany you. And you don't want to oblige everyone to accompany you 24/7 since everyone has their own lives to fix and run.

You were too shy to tell Bucky about how welcome you are for him, however, you're not too proud to seek new friendships.

"And just so you know too, I'm here," he said as he gave your cheeks a caress. "And I don't want you to think that I only see you as a sister or what, because you're not."

Your brows formed a frown when you heard what he said.

"Just don't, okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile, even though you are completely puzzled with what he said.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader #Bucky Barnes imagine #Marvel #Marvel imagine #Marvel x y/n

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marvelsbetch · 3 years

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Peter Parker’s parent teacher conference

Warnings: IronStrange, Supremefamily, bullied Peter, dick head teachers, anxious Peter and homophobia.

-Peter POV-

"Hey Bambi, why didn't you tell us about your parent-teacher conference tomorrow night?" Pops asked sitting next to me on the living room couch.

"I didn't think you would've wanted to go? Dads not the one for school or teachers and you're -well- you." I explained tentatively.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Just so you know, we'll be there for around 5 so just after your decathlon meeting. It'll just be me and your dad so no need to be embarrassed." Pops told me.

"Thanks. This'll be the first parent-teacher conference I would've ever been to." I told him.

"Same kid. It's a first time experience for us all." Pops smiled at me.

"Not many times that happens." I commented resting my head on his shoulder.

"No it's not Bambi, no it's not." He smiled putting his head on mine.

-Next day at 5 o'clock-

"Hey Penis, what're you still doing here? This is a thing for kids with parents." Flash taunted walked passed me in the gymnasium as I waited for my dads.

"Shut up Flash, you know nothing about my family." I told him.

"You better watch your tone Parker or you'll have another black eye." Flash threatened getting really close to me.

"If you would be so kind as to step away from my kid, it would he greatly appreciated." Pops' voice spoke from next to me. They must've just arrived.

"Oh my God! It's Stephen Strange! And Tony Stark!" Flash all but yelled making the whole room fall silent.

"It's Stephen Stark actually. I didn't spend thousands on a wedding for people to not recognise my changed last name." Pops corrected.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fan of both of your works." Flash blabbered composing himself.

"Eugene! We've been looking everywhere for you!" A man, who I presume is Flash's father, scolded walking up to us with a woman trailing behind.

"Sorry father but look who I found. The Starks." Flash excitedly announced.

At this point I slowly slipped away from him and walked up to my Dad who gladly greeted me with a hug. I could feel the warmth of the arc reactor on my chest and it gave a strange comfort. After a few moments we let go but I didn't move very far, being so close to Flash made me really anxious.

"Underoos you okay?" Dad asked me worriedly trying to look into my eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine, just tired. I was up late finishing a piece of homework last night." I lied hoping Pops wouldn't say anything as I fell asleep on him last night.

"Wow Mister Stark. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. If you haven't noticed I try to style myself off of you." Flash's father said showing off his black tailored suit and aviator sunglasses and reached out for a handshake.

"I'm flattered but I don't do handshakes. I'm not the biggest fan of touching." Dad told him trying to give a convincing smile.

"Then why've you got an arm around Pen-Peter?" Flash asked making both my Dads give him the 'Bitch WTF' look. I hate that look. Dad was about to say something but I decided to cut in.

"So, why don't we do what you came here to do and speak to my teachers? Sounds great, let's go." I spoke grabbing Pops' hand and dragging him and Dad to one of my teachers.

"Who was he?" Dad asked in a demanding tone.

"Nobody important. Look Mr. Harrington's free. Let's go and talk to him." I rushed and pulled my dads towards Mr. Harrington's table.

"Ah, Peter and Mr. and Mr. Stark. Lovely to meet you, I love all you've done for the world." Mr Harrington spoke as we took our seats.

"Thank you Mr. Harrington." Pops said.

"No problem. So, I teach Peter Physics and I've got no problems. The only thing I would say is that he is often on his phone during lesson and doesn't listen that much. However with that being said, he's never got below an A+ on his tests. You should be proud of him." Mr. Harrington smiled.

"We are. Is that all?" Dad said ruffling my hair slightly.

"That's all thanks." Mr. Harrington announced and shook Pops' hand before we walked away.

"That was a really good report but who're you texting during class? It better not be one of the others or your dad." Pops asked and gave Dad a pointed look.

"No it's this guy I met online. His names Harley Keener and he seems really nice." I explained as I lead them to my history teacher.

"Harley Keener?" Dad asked shocked.

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?" I questioned.

"Sorta. I'll explain when we get home." Dad dismisses before turning around to face my history teacher Mrs. Keens.

"Wow, this is a shock. It's not everyday the Starks turn up to a parent-teacher conference. How are you both?" She rushed out slightly flustered.

"We're doing fine thank you. How is Peter in this subject?" Pops asked, straight to the point as always.

"Peter is amazing, always hands his homework in on time, always listens in lesson and has never received less than an A on a test. You should be proud of him." She informed smiling at me.

"Wow, our little goody-two-shoes." Dad teased ruffling my hair slightly.

"One thing that you may or may not be aware of is a boy called Eugene Thomson. He seems to be bullying Peter for whatever reason, I've caught him a few times throwing paper balls at Peter or sliding him malicious notes. I'm not sure if it's friendly or not but I felt you should know. Thank you." Mrs. Keens informed, may the ground swallow me up now.

"We will also discuss this later on." Pops told me sternly, oh no.

We left Mrs. Keens with a slight wave and headed back to the main area to find another teacher. My eyes landed on my English teacher who didn't seem very happy, this is not going to end well.

"Oh look, it's your English teacher." Dad commented and pointed to Mr. Malory. Fuuuuuuuuck.

"How do you know my English teacher?" I asked worriedly.

"Research department, making sure my son has the best education he can. Let's go to him now while he's free." Dad brushed off and started to walk towards him. God save me.

My English teacher hates me for no reason, always turns a blind eye to Flash, always nitpicks my assignments and finds any reason to not give me a good grade. He's also quite homophobic and has expressed on many occasions his hatred for my Dads and anything to do with them. He even leads a group called the 'Freedom from Starks'. This is so not ending well.

"Peter, didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Malory commented not looking up from his clip board.

"Well, this is a parent-teacher conference and I, as his parent, would like to speak to my sons teacher about his school work. If you'd be so kind." Dad said, his words oozing sarcasm and sass. He really did his research.

Mr. Malory picked his head up and stared Dad dead in the face. The distaste clearly shown on both faces as the three of us took our seats, Pops took Dad's hand, probably as a way to calm him down. This is worse than I thought.

"Well, if I'm being honest, Peter is the worse student I've ever taught. He's disruptive in lessons, throws paper at a wonderful student called Flash Thompson, slides Flash malicious notes and seems to find any excuse to blame Flash. His work is simply upgradable and I couldn't thing on a bigger lost cause than your son. Any questions?" Mr. Malory spoke and Dads face got redder and redder with anger.

"Really, then why did the last teacher we speak to say it was the other way around, that 'Flash' was the one throwing paper and passing notes?" Dad questioned leaning forward in his seat.

"Look, I don't know what happens in other lessons and quite frankly, I don't care. All I know is Peter is a major distraction and it's bordering bulling with Flash." Mr. Malory told us.

"What about his work is so upgradable? Is it his handwriting or the content of what he's writing?" Pops asked placing his other hand on top of Dads. This is getting serious.

"The content. The ludicrous stories of the Norse Gods and his 'adventures' with them are beyond reason. His stories are beyond the realm of possibility and are just ludicrous." Mr. Malory told them.

"His stories about the Norse Gods, does this involve Thor putting his hammer in inconvient places or Loki and black widow being kind and caring to others?" Das asked.

"Yes." Was Mr. Malory's short response.

"Well, it is within the realm of possibility as it happens. Every single day at the compound or sanctum." Pops spit out trying to keep calm.

"Oh well, maybe he should learn to be more creative with his stories." Mr. Malory spoke silently challenging Pops.

"Thanks sir." I hastily said before dragging both my dads out of their seats and walking off.

"No Pete, I would like to hear more about how much of a bad student you are." Dad argued challenging Mr Mallory.

"And I will be glad to provide. Mr Park-"

"Stark." Dad deadpans.

"Mr Stark is highly disruptive not only to Mr Thomson but is also always on his phone, sleeping in class or just straight up not listening. Honestly, his behaviour is a reflection as to why you people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, you simply don't know how to raise them." Mr Mallory continued to explain. Dad went red.

"What do you mean by you people?" Pops asked scarily calm as be placed a hand on Dad's knee to soothe him slightly.

"Gays. You shouldn't be allowed children because there's not a mother to properly raise them, I never had these issues when Peter lived with May. I honestly think it would be in his best interest to place him back in her care."

Oh my god. He knows May is dead. He knows that I can't be 'placed back in her care' and It was the same when I did live with her, nothing changed.

We were all stunned into silence, including some of the surrounding parents and teachers who were stunned. Well, we were silent until Dad blew up at him.

"How dare you," he began, "I take as good care of my son as any other parent here does, I give him as much as I can and do everything I can to be a good parent to him. If he's sleeping in your classes or being distracted then maybe you should make your lessons more interesting and not be blind sighted by your homophobic, bigoted and downright dickish beliefs. Your head may be crammed so far up your ass you can smell your lungs but maybe once join us in the real world and see that just because people are different doesn't mean they're not as capable. I will be putting in a formal complaint and if I were you, I'd start looking for new places of employment seeing as I am one of the biggest donators to this school. Come on Pete, we're going home."

Dad then grabbed Pops' hand and my arm before storming out of the building towards the car. You could see the steam coming out of his ears as Pops tried in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

I think I can safely say that this night was a disaster.

#ironstrange #tony stark #doctor strange #mcu #marvel #iron man #DOMESTIC AVENGERS #parent teacher conferences #SUPPORTIVE AVENGERS #supportive tony stark #soft Tony stark #sofy doctor strange #stephen strange

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glxssylaufey · 3 years

Text

Mischief Maker - Chapter 2

a/n: i’m sorry this is a bit longer than usual ahh! i also apologize if the writing is a little bad or if there’s any mistakes, i tried my best :) also i apologize if you’re not on the taglist, it didn’t let me tag some of you. anyways, enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The time has come to attend Stark’s party. How will the reader handle Loki’s mischief?

word count: 5,156

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of bullying, language, slightly spicy hehe

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream @mademoiselledubois @destructivebliss @kingtwhiddleston @madcrazy50 @rachel-voychuk

It was no secret that Tony Stark loved to make a grand entrance to everything he does. This morning was no exception. The time was around 8:15 when Tony practically kicked your door down to rip your blinds open. Sometimes you almost felt as if he was just another father figure in your life.

“Rise and shine!” he announced, forcing sunlight into your room. “We have a big day today, Y/N, c’mon!” he spoke as he continued to shake you awake. You lazily blinked open your eyes, groaning when Tony ripped your blankets from you. You already knew what he was here for.

“Alright, whatcha got for me?” Tony asked as he looked for the paintings he had requested the night before. You sighed.

“A headache, that’s what I have for you.” you replied, shoving your face back into your pillow.

“No, you’re not allowed to have a headache.” he simply stated. “Let me guess, you don’t have any paintings picked out?” You sat up on your bed, rolling your eyes when you saw Tony standing in the middle of your room with his arms crossed like a child.

“I can pick some out in literally five minutes, Tony, just let me wake up.” you said waving your hand at him, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah? Well make it quick, I don’t have all day.” he argued, walking towards your door. “By the way, breakfast is ready.” Tony said in a sing-song voice before leaving your room. You simply hummed in response, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Today was going to be difficult, you already knew. Even though you were agreeing to spend your time with bidding paintings at the party, you still had your heart set on sneaking Loki in somehow. You were just stumped on how you would get that to happen.

After a morning of much needed breakfast, you got ready to face the day. Tony had asked both you and Natasha to go to the store to pick up a long list of supplies for the party. So there you stood, scanning the store’s large selection of alcohol bottles, not knowing which one Tony would want.

“What does he have on the list?” you ask, turning to Nat. She quickly scanned through the dramatically large catalog and shrugged.

“Just whatever looks good, I guess.” she replied before looking back to the shelves. Without another word, Natasha settled for three huge bottles of vodka. You don’t argue, seeing as you were just as clueless as to what Tony would want. “So tell me, what’s been going on with you?” she asks suddenly. You both proceeded to explore the store for whatever else the list requested.

“Oh, you know.” you paused. “The usual.” What ‘the usual’ was, you had no idea. Your life hasn’t exactly been normal since Thor had brought Loki into the Avengers Tower.

“Like what, painting pretty pictures and babysitting gods?” Nat laughed, plopping a case of Coca-Cola into the shopping cart. You were about to protest against her teasing when you realized that truly was what you have been doing for the past two days.

“Yeah, pretty much.” you admitted with a sigh. Natasha chuckled, before a moment of silence.

“How’s Loki?” she asked suddenly. The question made you tense up. It wasn’t that you hated talking about Loki, just something about him made your mind go blank.

“He’s fine.” you replied plainly. You then noticed Nat raise an eyebrow at you as if she knew that you were hiding something. Which she did, of course. You opted to continue, not seeing a point in lying to your friend or yourself. “He’s not as awful as everyone claims him to be. I think he’s just misunderstood.” you persuaded. Natasha nodded, listening intently.

“What makes you think that?” she questioned. That’s when you realized Natasha only knew the Loki that had invaded New York city, much like everyone else. She only saw the villain of the story and not the god that you saw up on the hill. That’s when you began to pour your heart out.

“Yesterday when I took him outside, I saw a side of him that I don’t think anyone else has seen before. He told me stories about Asgard and it sounded like so much more than just some ancient legend. It seemed so normal. He seemed so normal.” you explained, almost passionately. “I don’t know, Nat. I think he’s actually really sweet.” you admitted. Natasha��s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you like him!” she gasped. Your heart practically stopped at her accusation. There’s no way that you had feelings for the God of Mischief.

“Oh my- absolutely not!” you stammered. “I’m just simply being kind!” you insisted. You could feel your face burning, undoubtedly displaying your embarrassment.

“Y/N, you cannot like Loki, that’s insane!” Nat declared. You could practically feel the stares from the other people in the store, considering how loud the two of you were being.

“I just said I don’t!” you corrected her.

“But you most certainly are lying!” Natasha accused, halting the shopping cart.

“I’m not.”

“Say that to me with a straight face then.”

“Nat, PUSH. THE. CART.”

“HA! I knew it!”

You both continued to bicker and squabble for the rest of the shopping trip. It wasn’t until you and Natasha reached the checkout line that the childlike arguing returned back to its normal conversational tone.

“Oh god, what will Tony think?” Natasha said with a gasp. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The longer you listened to her babble on about Loki, the more you realized she could be right. You admit, Loki was a fairly attractive person. Plus his gentlemanly charm didn’t help your case much. Oh, who were you kidding? Loki was downright gorgeous and you knew it. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that you were slowly catching feelings for the god.

“Tony can’t know, he’d have a fit.” you spoke almost in a whisper, as if Tony was listening to your conversation.

“Oh, so you admit it? You do have a crush on Loki?” Natasha asked eagerly.

“N-no! Well, yes, but you can’t say a word about it!” you pleaded almost in disbelief at what you had just admitted. You had a crush on the almighty Loki and there was no denying it. Natasha simply giggled like a school girl.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” she assured you. Except the way she continued to smile about it the whole car ride home showed that she was going to have a difficult time keeping your secret.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Romanoff, nobody can know!” you suddenly said as she drove the two of you back to the Avengers Tower.

“I’m sorry, I just have to say it.” she started. You shook your head, knowing this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon. “You should try to make a move tonight.” she suggested, giving you a smug smirk.

“Oh c’mon, you know he’s not allowed at the party.” you claimed. “But I have been thinking about ways to sneak him in tonight.” Natasha mocked a gasp.

“Y/N, how scandalous of you.” she poked fun at you, causing you to giggle. “I must say though, I think you can absolutely do better.” she suddenly stated, making your jaw drop slightly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, slightly put out.

“Loki is a mass murderer!” Natasha indicated. “Not to mention he’s tortured our friends and acts like a complete asshole.” she continued. You wave your hand at her in an attempt to silence her.

“Like I said, he’s changed.” you defended. Natasha didn’t respond, leaving you two in silence. After some time, you thought of your task to sell your paintings at the party. You decided that it could be best if you were to just leave Loki in his room. Plus, it’s not like everything Natasha had said wasn’t true. Perhaps it's for the best that you don’t get too close with the terrorist of New York.

Third Person POV:

Loki watched his brother pace the floor as he sat on the bed, pondering ways to sneak himself into the party. The longer they allowed time to pass by, the more hopeless Loki began to feel.

“We’re short on time brother, this won’t work.” Loki sighed. “I say we just go with my idea.” he suggested. Thor gave him a stern look and crossed his arms.

“Loki, we are not going to tie up one of the party members to disguise yourself as them.” Thor lectured his brother. Loki scoffed at Thor’s statement. After a bit more pacing, Thor snapped his fingers as a scheme formed in his mind.

“But perhaps disguises are not such a terrible idea after all!” Thor quipped with a large grin. Loki raised his eyebrow at Thor, signaling him to continue with his thought. “Think back to when we were children. That trick you always played on me when you would transform yourself into a snake just to stab me.” Thor explained with slight annoyance in his voice, remembering those times of his childhood.

“If you’re suggesting I slither into the event as a snake, I don’t think the midgardians would be too pleased with serpents being let loose in the building.” Loki glared at Thor, thinking it was a poor idea.

“Yes, but that’s only if you are caught.” Thor urged with a devious smile. He knew his younger brother was always up for a challenge and this task seemed perfect for him. Loki gave the thought a second chance before chuckling to himself.

“Excuse me, brother.” Loki sighed, standing up from the bed. “I have a party to attend.”

Stark’s party was full to the brim with people. You had already known ahead of time that the event would be completely packed, yet the amount of people still managed to astonish you. So there you were, greeting people as they walked in. You gave warm smiles and shook hands with the ones who offered it. After some friendly greetings, you were approached by Tony who had ushered you away from the entrance. You expected nothing less from him.

“Alright Y/N, this is your deadline. Where’s the paintings?” he asked, feigning impatience.

“Relax, Tony, I’ve got everything set up by the bar.” you advised him, gesturing towards your stand which displayed the art.

“Oh good, because I’ve already promised like four people that I had museum quality shit here.” he shared quickly, walking towards your platform. You roll your eyes and dramatically sigh at Tony.

“Of course you have.” you said, following him. “Well I suppose I should get to work then.” you said, observing the line of people in front of the small stage.

“Good thinking. Thanks again, Picasso.” Tony thanked you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering over to a large group of people. You took a step onto the platform and strolled over to the small microphone displayed on a stand for you. Everyone took note of your presence and gave their full attention to you. You looked out to the crowd before sighing. As much as you weren’t in the mood to converse with a large amount of people, you always had an open heart for Tony.

“Hello, everyone!” you greeted into the microphone. “My name is Y/N and I am the creator of these paintings presented before you today. Let’s just start with a little bit of browsing, shall we?” you suggested, hoping the crowd would see eye to eye with your proposal. Much to your relief, they did, nodding their heads with agreement. “Great! Bidding will start in ten minutes.” you announced before turning the microphone off. You sighed in relief, happy you had extra time for yourself. In all honesty, you just needed time to get a drink. You were convinced you could never survive a Stark party without some sort of alcohol to give you an extra confidence boost. As you made your way to the bar, you were halted by no other than your friend Thor. He was dressed quite dapper, yet casual enough to give him easy mobility.

“Ah, Y/N! So lovely to see you.” he greeted, with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Thor, it’s great to see you too.” you nodded at him with a cordial smile. “You look striking tonight.” you complimented.

“Oh, you’re too kind. You look very well put together yourself.” Thor chuckled, giving you a friendly wink. You were wearing a nicely fitted red dress that fell right above your knees with lace to give it alluring details. You also wore black heels to give you an extra two or so inches.

“Thank you very much.” you blushed, giving him a curt nod. You began to walk away to retrieve a drink from the bar, but it seemed Thor had different plans. He quickly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

“One more thing!” Thor announced. “I believe my drink requires a refill.” he explained waving his empty bottle almost nervously. You chuckle lightly, wondering why he was telling you this.

“Are you asking me to get you another beer, Odinson?” you snicker. Thor’s eyes widen as he begins to stammer for the right words.

“No, no! My apologies, I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink. I’d just like for you to join me.” he specified, gesturing towards the bar, awkwardly smiling.

“Oh!” you exclaimed in delight. You felt having your friend to accompany you would help ease your mind. “I’d like that, thank you.” you said as you started to walk. Thor followed closely next to you with a beaming smile.

Everything was going perfectly.

Once you reached the bar you took a seat on one of the tall bar stools. You were scanning the menu when Thor set his empty bottle on the counter before taking a step away from the bar.

“Please excuse me, Lady Y/N. I believe Stark has called for me.” Thor stated quickly. Confused, you turned to look at the large mass of people Tony was talking to. You could’ve sworn Tony hadn’t even paid attention to anything but his guests. Before you could question anything, Thor had already quickly turned to walk the opposite direction. You sighed, turning back towards the bar when you realized there wasn’t even a bartender to tend to you.

“Well this was useless.” you muttered to yourself. As you were about to stand from your seat, Thor’s beer bottle began to shake. You froze, thinking your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Suddenly, a small snake began to crawl out of the bottle and onto the counter. You gasped, jumping from your seat in shock. Surely you were imagining things. The green scaly creature paused to curiously look up at you then turned to slowly slither down the opposite side of the bar. You approached the bar once more, peeking over the top of the counter to search for the snake. Then with a green glow, the snake quickly transformed into the one and only Loki Laufeyson. He simply sighed, brushing off his gorgeously tailored black suit and looked up at you.

“Good evening.” he greeted casually. Your mouth hung open, completely caught off guard at what you had just witnessed.

“Loki, you- how- you aren't supposed to be here!” you stumbled your words in confusion.

“Yes, but was it not you who said I shouldn’t be cooped up in my chambers all day?” Loki snorted playfully. You had no possible way to protest. Instead you resorted to looking around to make sure nobody was looking in your direction. This earned a barely audible groan from Loki. “I presume you wish for me to change back and slither my way back to my room then?” he questioned.

“No!” you declared maybe a little too quickly. “It’s okay, you can stay.” you said trying to remain calm. Loki smiled at how flustered you were, finding it almost amusing.

“Verywell.” he settled calmly. “Now, my lady, may I offer you a drink?” he suggested with a tone that gave you uncontrollable butterflies. You blushed at his offer with a nervous smile.

“I think a red wine will suffice, thank you.” you replied as naturally as you possibly could. Though of course it was a difficult task trying to keep calm. Loki just nodded and turned to prepare your glass. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to be sure nobody was watching you. You knew that Stark practically had eyes everywhere, not to mention anybody could easily take a glance at Loki and recognize him from New York. Because of this, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Loki, we have to get out of here.” you uttered straightforward. He paused pouring your glass of wine to give you a puzzled look. “Tony is bound to realize that you’re here. Plus the bartender could come back at any moment.” you told him, quickly standing to your feet. Loki just nodded before setting the wine bottle down with a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Lead the way then.” Loki said almost in a testing tone. Without another word, the same green glow from earlier masked over his body and changed him back into his serpent form. Loki snaked back into the beer bottle that he had once emerged from, hinting for you to carry him as Thor did. You grabbed the bottle from the counter and turned to walk from the bar. Where you were headed was beyond you. At this point, you were simply just trying to get away from the crowd of people. As you walked, you looked down at the empty beer bottle to be sure Loki sat comfortably in his glass container. He simply looked up at you and poked his tongue out at you in response. As a result of not watching where you were walking, you ended up walking right into a woman’s body, nearly knocking her over. You gasp, taking a step back from the mystery person.

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed before quickly looking down into the beer bottle to affirm Loki was okay. Though what you were not expecting was a familiar voice to respond to your apologies.

“Well would you look at who it is.” the woman spoke with a chuckle. “You were always quite a clumsy girl.” she remarked. When you looked up to identify the woman, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Alice Weaver!” you exclaimed. You didn’t know who to expect the woman to be, but it certainly wasn’t her. Alice was a girl you had met back in highschool. She had insisted on devoting her teenage years to making yours miserable. It had started when her boyfriend at the time had broken up with her and he attempted to use you as a rebound. Her jealousy for you has been undying ever since.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Y/N!” she grinned, her shrill voice dripping with sarcasm. “How have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been fine, thanks.” you said, shifting from side to side. You made an attempt to walk past her, but of course she quickly stepped in front of you before you could make any distance.

“Oh good!” she quipped as she looked you up and down. She then caught sight of the beer bottle in your hand. “I never took you for a beer drinker, though.” you panicked a little, hoping she wouldn’t see the small snake hiding inside of it.

“It’s for a friend.” you quickly whipped up an answer. Alice scoffed.

“That’s what they all say, isn’t it?” she questioned, keeping her seemingly sweet smile on display. You gritted your teeth. In all honesty, you were still in shock that she was even here in the first place. “Anyways, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m actually staying at the compound until tomorrow. I’m here to assist Stark on research.” she went on. You listened in disbelief.

“Research?” you asked plainly, your throat running dry.

“Yes of course, I’m studying engineering and physics.” Alice gushed.

“Wonderful.” you spat as friendly as you could possibly muster. You went to take a step and she walked in front of you yet again.

“Oh, Y/N, shouldn’t you be over there bidding those… pictures?” she said, pointing over towards your stand. “Here, I’ll hold this for you!” she said quickly snatching the beer bottle. You gasped trying your best to grab it back.

“Wait, no! Alice, I need that!” you yelped, struggling to grab the bottle back. You were suddenly pulled back from her, leaving you empty handed.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” Tony whisper-screamed to you, retracting you from Alice. “I have a group of very unhappy people waiting for you. Now stop bugging my student and do your job.” he exclaimed before softly shoving you towards the small stage. Now you were panicking. Tony Stark and your high school nemesis were in possession of Loki and you couldn’t do a single thing about it. So there you were, nervously walking up onto the stage and turning the microphone on.

“I am so sorry for the delay everyone, I ran into some issues.” you spoke to the crowd nervously. “I suppose I’ve kept you all waiting long enough, let’s get started.” you clapped your hands together, trying to seem as normal as possible. As you continued to speak out towards the crowd, you watched from afar as Tony and Alice continued to talk. You could tell by the way the two kept glancing over at you, they were certainly speaking of your behavior. You shakily sighed, going to grab a painting to exhibit it on the easel. Once you were back in front of the microphone you opened your mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted when you felt something crawl down the back of your neck, causing you to squeak. This earned a suspicious reaction from the people in the crowd. You quickly recomposed yourself when you heard little snake hisses behind your ear. Loki. You were immensely relieved that he managed to sneak out of the bottle. He must have quickly slithered up your arm and up your back when Alice had grabbed the bottle from you. Although you were beyond grateful for his escape, feeling his cold scales on your bare skin made you shutter. You quickly cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, I just am not myself tonight.” you managed to squeak out. “A-anyways, do we have any takers for this piece?” you stuttered out. As you continued to make biddings for your painting, you could feel Loki leisurely slither down your neck and into the back of your dress. You slightly jumped at feeling Loki enter the back of your dress, making your heart race. “Sold!” you nearly barked out, hoping it would get Loki to cease his crawling. It didn’t. He continued down your dress until he rested over the back of your bra. You began to walk as casual as possible to your next art piece. As you bent down to pick it up you felt Loki crawl to the side of your dress towards the cup of your bra. After picking it up, you subtly brushed your bicep over your side, hoping to halt Loki’s movement. With your luck, this seemed to only spur him on. Loki then made haste to sneak into the cup of your bra, causing you to gasp.

“Can we hurry it up, please?” a very impatient man nagged from the audience. You groaned in response, not entirely sure if it was from the man’s remark or Loki.

“M-my apologies, sir.” you apologized, clearly annoyed yourself. “I guess I just have a chill I can’t seem to shake.” you admitted to the audience, but mostly directed towards the small snake currently resting in your bra. You felt him nestled comfortably against your skin, finally stopping to rest. “Next up is one of my personal favorites. Do we have any takers?” you spoke out to the crowd. You continued the bidding, trying the best you could to ignore the fact that Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief was presently relaxed in the cup of your bra as a snake. As you continued speaking, you felt him hiss from time to time causing his small forked tongue to brush the skin of your sternum. You swore it made your breath hitch everytime. This continued until every single piece was presented to its new owner. By the end of the night, you ended up with a large amount of cash though you didn’t seem to care much about that. While you granted the very last person your last painting, Stark approached with a drink in his hand. You whined to yourself upon seeing him. You were far too flustered to even deal with his snarky remarks.

“Congrats, Y/N! You got the job done.” Tony joked. You leered at him, walking off the stage.

“Tony, not now.” you said, trying to walk away.

“Oh don’t be such a sour puss, you got loads of cash.” he continued to provoke. “Hold on, I got one more thing for you.” You felt your body stiffen. You sigh, turning on your heels to face Tony.

“What?” you asked plainly. Tony flashed you a smile as he handed you the drink he had come to you with. Whiskey on ice.

“For you, it’s on the house. Just a ‘thank you’ for tonight.” he said, sounding truly genuine. You couldn’t possibly stay mad at him, even if it was Tony Stark. You took the glass from him and returned the smile.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled. Just as you were about to take a sip of your much deserved reward, you felt Loki abruptly start to move again. He began to creep his way out the side of the cup of your bra, passing into the opposite one. This resulted in a yelp that had been caught in your throat all night, startling Tony.

“Y/N, are you-”

“Loki!”

“What?”

“I have to check on Loki!” you quickly shouted setting the drink down. “H-he’s been in his room all night!” you swiftly made an excuse. Thankfully, your excuse was adequate enough for you to get out of there. You swiftly speed walked to the nearest bathroom avoiding any more interruptions. The quicker you moved, the more agitated you could feel Loki getting. As you made your way to the bathroom you could feel him continue to slither around your bra. Once you finally reached the bathroom you slammed the door shut and pulled the hem of your dress away from your chest.

“OUT!” you screamed. Loki listened, crawling out of your bra and down your leg. Once he reached the floor, his magic glow covered him once more, turning him back into his godly self.

“Well…” he panted, clearly shaken up from how speedy you walked. “Could you have moved any faster?” he nearly growled. You could feel your anger rise and your patience snap.

“How is any of this my fault?!” you shouted at him. “What in the hell were you doing, going into my bra like that?” you asked. Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Oh my apologies, in case you didn’t notice, I had nowhere else to go!” he snapped back. You loudly groaned as you covered your face with your hands.

“Tonight was a disaster, all thanks to you!” you argued, pointing a finger at him.

“Me?!” he barked, causing his voice to echo throughout the bathroom. You jumped at his sudden loudness. “I put all my efforts in sneaking into this awful party just so I could simply serve you a drink to thank you for your generosity from yesterday.” he spoke loudly, slowly approaching you. His words shocked you. You hadn’t realized that Loki only wanted to attend the event just so he could show you some kindness. Your face fell, almost feeling sorry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” you said in a softer tone. Loki remained irritated, taking another big step towards you so there was almost no more space between the two of you. Your breath became ragged.

“Perhaps next time, at least make an attempt to stay calm and keep yourself from squirming.” he requested bitterly.

“You want to speak about squirming?!” your voice raised again. “How about next time, you don’t go into my bra!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Your breath betrays you, Midgardian. If I didn’t know any better, the hitch in your throat would tell me that you rather enjoyed it.” he mocked. You could feel your face burn a bright red, embarrassment flooding your emotions.

“Y-you disgust me!” you spat out. Loki snickered almost as if he was purposely trying to provoke you.

“There it is again.” he pointed out. “You get flustered so easily, it’s almost pitiful.” You remained silent, stunned by his remark. He continued to stare at you, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I hate you.” you whispered. What happened next was completely out of your control. Instead of getting anger out of Loki, your statement sparked something uncontrollable. He swiftly grabbed your hips and crashed his lips upon yours, sealing you both in a passionate kiss. Before your mind had time to register what was happening, he pulled away, removing his hands from you completely. He examined your face, searching for any sort of restraint. Realizing what he had just done, he became worrisome.

“My most sincere apologies, I-” you quickly cut him off, pulling him back into yet another searing kiss. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as the kiss grew hungrier. His hands traveled up to your face to pull you in closer, making your breath quicken. Your mind was racing with all sorts of emotions, but you knew one thing was for sure: you didn’t want this moment to ever end. But it did. You both quickly pulled away from each other when the door to the bathroom swung open. Your head snapped to look at whoever entered the bathroom and your heart sank when you realized who it was. Alice Weaver stood at the door, looking both you and Loki up and down. She laughed in disbelief at what she saw in front of her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

#tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel mcu #loki #loki odinson #fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki x reader #chapter two #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic #loki x y/n #thomas william hiddleston

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #winter soldier #mcu #crack fic #mcu fanfiction

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anarchyduck · 3 years

Text

Get Out of Jail Free Card

Day Two: I don’t want to go

AO3

---

‘Heads up. Kid is in a mood.’

Tony frowns at Happy’s message. Considering the teenage raging hormones, there’s no telling what sort of ‘mood’ he’s expecting from the kid. Judging from the tone, it must not be good.

So he prepares himself for whatever comes up the elevator.

“Hey Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps, grinning ear to ear as he enters the lab.

Or so Tony thought.

“Hey kid.” he greets, watching the kid haphazardly toss his backpack on the floor near his work station. The kid doesn’t seem upset. “How was school?”

Peter shrugs. “It was fine.” he replies. “Aced my Spanish test. Tomorrow’s Decathlon meeting has been moved to the day after because of Mr. Harrington’s doctor appointment. Or something, I don’t know.” Kid gives a half hearted shrug then turns to grab a bottle of water out of the lab’s mini fridge.

Tony remains seated at his own work station, perplexed. Parker seems to be fine. Cheerful, hyperactive, chatty - the usual. He picks up his phone to look at the message again and resorts to writing his own.

‘Define ‘mood’’

“So nothing bad happened?” Tony prods a little more. “That Thompson kid didn’t give you any trouble?”

Peter shakes his head, mouthful of water. “No.” he replies, pausing as he takes another long drink and adds, “No more than the usual, you know?”

Okay so it isn’t a bully problem.

Tony’s phone buzzes on the table and he picks it up to read Happy’s reply.

‘Won’t talk about it. Something at home’

Something at home? The mystery deepens. Tony has met May Parker several times, even more once Peter’s real internship was discovered. She treats Peter like he’s more of her son than her nephew. A kind, formidable woman who would not hesitate to fight anyone who even dared side eye Peter.

“How about your aunt?” Tony inquires, finding it increasingly difficult to keep the questions casual.

“She’s fine.” Peter says with uncertainty. He shoots Tony a questioning look as he sits down. “What’s up with the interrogation?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “If you think this is an interrogation, you’d never make it through a real one.” he remarks then waves his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Just wanted to check in on my favorite intern.”

“I’m your only intern.”

“Which automatically makes you my favorite.” Tony reiterates, drawing a light laugh from Peter. He realizes he sits at a crossroad with the kid, to flat out ask what’s going on (if anyone is really going on) or leave it be. Parker has the terrible habit of not being frank about things, especially when they’re personally happening to him, which can lead to complications down the road.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Stark. Really.” Peter says dismissively, eyes turned downcast to his desk where he makes an impressive attempt in looking busy.

So there is something bothering the kid.

Tony leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling as though it has all the answers. “Okay,” he sighs heavily, running a hand down his face as he directs his attention to Peter again. “Look, enough beating around the bush.” To this, Peter gives him a deer caught in the headlights look. “Happy already gave me the warning something was going on with you so let’s hear it. What’s the problem?”

Peter opens his mouth while spinning a mini screwdriver around in his hand then closes it. Tony can practically see the warring thoughts on his face, though the internal conflict doesn’t last very long. The kid gives a long suffering sigh then says “My Aunt Jan is getting married next Saturday.”

Tony frowns and tries to connect how that's relevant. “Okay…? Wait.” he gives it some more consideration and adds, “I didn’t know you had another aunt.”

Granted, he never thought to look very deep into the Parkers family tree but that’s beside the point.

“I have four aunts actually.” Peter says then adds, “Or, had four aunts. May had a sister named Annie who died before I was born. May has two other sisters - Aunt Jan and Aunt April, which no one talks about for some reason. Aunt Jan says she’s the black sheep of the family and May doesn’t talk about her either, so I imagine her name is burned off the family tree.”

Tony thinks there’s a pop culture reference in there somewhere but he can’t place it. “So your Aunt Jan is getting married.” he says to get things back on topic. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because she’s just… awful.” Peter groans, chair squeaking as he leans back into it. “She always made these really mean comments and talked about Ben and then talked about Ben and May taking me in, as if they shouldn’t have. And the wedding is all the way in Boston, which means we’ll have to stay at Aunt Jan’s house and I just... “ Peter heaves a sigh, slouching in the chair as he continues playing with the screwdriver. “I don’t want to go.”

“So don’t.” Tony says, believing it being the simplest solution to Parker’s problem.

Peter’s head snaps up, looking aghast. “I can’t do that! I promised May and it’s a family event and-”

“It’s obvious you don’t want to go.” Tony says. “So just tell your aunt you changed your mind.” Peter looks like he still wants to protest, to which Tony adds, “Would she force you to do something you don’t want?”

“Yes.” Peter grumbles.

“All right. Then I’ll give you a Get Out of Jail Free card.” Tony offers. “Just say you have something going on with me that weekend like” - he snaps his fingers until an idea comes to mind - “tell her we’re going to the Compound and I need your help working on some gear.”

"You would do that, Mr. Stark? Really?" Peter asks, having the gall to sound surprised about it. As if Tony wouldn't do something for the kid. But then Peter deflates into the chair again and shakes his head. "No, I shouldn't. If I don't go, May will be there alone with them."

Tony hums and nods. "For the greater good, huh?"

This kid. Sure it's just to a wedding, but this is just another example of who Peter is. Self sacrifice and unwilling to let him become a burden or let someone else suffer. Tony's admiration grows for him day by day.

"Well, now that's out of the way." Tony claps his hands together as he stands, chair rolling against the tile floor. Peter perks up in his chair, eyes on his mentor as Tony approaches his desk. "Let's go over some upgrades for the suit. Any new ideas?"

He watches that spark in Peter's eyes, how the kid lights up. "Yeah! Uhm, actually I was thinking about stuff in class today and wrote it down…"

Tony grabs another chair to join the kid as Peter rambles on about his latest ideas. When he isn't looking, Tony sends a message to Happy.

'Kid is good. Btw, send a list of hotels in Boston.'

#webpril 2021 day 2 #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spiderson #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #marvel #duckie's writing

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

Text

my teen angst bullshit has a body count

by @imgoingtocrash for @hailxhydra

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Jim Morita, Hydra Agents

Summary:

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

Two years ago, Peter Parker escaped Hydra's control and was taken in by the Avengers. Traumatized from the experience but healing, Peter's starting to get a hang of this whole normal teenager thing. However, when Flash brings up a happily forgotten trigger from his past, Tony comes to give comfort and remind Peter that he's worth more to his loved ones than Hydra could have ever dreamed of.

Read on AO3

My fic for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! Hopefully you enjoy it @hailxhydra!!!

Full fic under the cut as requested by the exchange:

“—But I’m asking if it’s a good movie.”

“I’m telling you, it was either picking Selena for the third time or Rio, which is a stupid animated movie about birds.” Ned shakes his head dramatically. “Everybody else will fall asleep, and if everybody falls asleep, then Misses Rodriguez will give us a pop quiz instead of letting us have a movie day.”

“But I like animated movies. We like them. We watched A Bug’s Life like last week!”

“Because you hadn’t seen it before! Your film under-education is criminal, and if I don’t help you fix it, who will?!”

Ned has a point. Being kidnapped and raised by Hydra after the age of six really limits a person’s entertainment consumption, as he’s learned more than ever now that he’s surrounded by other teenagers who grew up with movies and tv shows to watch at their fingertips.

“I mean, Steve does have a list…” Peter points out weakly.

Steve keeps it in his little notebook along with other things he doesn’t understand the references to yet. He tried to encourage Peter to start something like that in the beginning, but Peter’s never really considered himself a list person. He just sort of soaks up the world now, like a curious sponge. Sometimes it means he has to Google things he doesn’t really understand the meaning of, but it also means a lot of movie nights with both the other Avengers and Ned, which is actually sort of a bonus.

Ned stops them in the hall. “Yeah, but are they cool movies or are they movies for old people and war veterans who haven’t been alive for the last 100 years?”

“...You know that I don’t really know the difference.”

Ned gives a sad shake of his head. “You’re lucky you liked Star Wars, bro. Otherwise we’d be in a very different place right now, like, friendship-wise.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

Peter got to pick the movie for their classes’ Cinco de Mayo party. Peter’s not sure what either movie has to do with the Mexican Army’s historical defeat of the French, but he only picked Selena because Ned suggested it. Maybe he should be regretting that choice, if the other option was harmless little Spanish birds.

“You know, Parker, I have a question,” comes a very annoyingly musical voice from behind them.

Peter just barely resists to roll his eyes. Every time with this kid. Not that Peter is any less of a kid than Flash Thompson, technically, but he definitely feels more mature.

Ned, also more mature than some of their other classmates, completely ignores Flash.

“You’ll be humming the disco medleys for weeks, I promise.”

“Wait, wait, disco? I thought you said this was supposed to take place in the 80s and 90s?”

“Music endures, dude.”

“Hey, el idiots, I’m talking to you!” Flash interrupts again.

“That’s not even how you—” Peter starts to correct, only to realize he’s stepped directly in it when Ned groans.

Flash laughs obnoxiously to himself. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Penis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter grumbles. It doesn’t really matter what he says now. Flash has the attention that he wanted, which means he won’t bug off until the bell rings and until he has the last laugh. And that always happens, because he’s really the only one entertained by all of the poking and prodding at Peter.

Peter breathes in, steeling himself. He’s survived worse. So much worse. Bullies with electric prongs and steel cages and control over every other aspect of his life. This is just high school. Normal kids survive it all the time, even when there are bullies and bad test grades and cliquey subcultures. This is just one privileged asshole who thinks Peter’s an easy target.

In some way, Peter’s actually proud of that. No one has ever seen him as un-intimidating before. Even his Hydra captors knew that if they lost control of him as an asset, he could easily turn on them.

(Part of him always asks why he never did. If he wasn’t evil, if he wasn’t like them, then why didn’t he just fight back? But Sam says that’s just his mind trying to deal with trauma, and Peter is trying really, really hard to get better at ignoring those kinds of intrusive thoughts.)

Speaking of talking to himself, Flash snaps his fingers in Peter’s face to get his attention back.

“You’d think for such a genius, you’d be a lot quicker on the uptake.” Flash shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Please just get to the point already,” Ned begs, throwing his head back.

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

C’mere, Pet.

Stay down, Pet!

He was property, he was an animal, he was a weapon, their weapon, he was a mutant and he deserved it, needed it, he was the Spider, a mongrel, nothing, he was nothing and no one and Hydra was the only home a no-good runt like the Spider would ever have and he should be grateful—Kneel, Pet, be a good boy and kneel for your masters—but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t—

Foolish Pet, you wouldn’t survive out there.

You need us, Pet. You’ll always need us.

“Peter?”

He returns to the moment with one heaving breath, only to realize he can’t take in another.

His collar is too tight, they always put it on too tight and if he complains they hit him and if they hit him he bleeds and it gets on his clothes and he won’t get any more until his bath and he hates bath time because they water is cold and stings his skin and the soap is so harsh it burns his nostrils and they’re watching him he knows they’re watching because they never leave him alone because if they did he would try to escape, he would—

“Peter, what’s wrong, are you—?”

He did. He escaped and ran away but now they have him again and he can’t live like this, not when he knows about best friends and pizza and friendly ribbing and how warm he feels when Tony pulls Peter close on the couch and presses a kiss to his head and tells Peter that he’s proud. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he has to run.

“Peter, wait!”

Tony is, to say the least, nervous when he gets a call from Midtown Tech’s front office.

He trusts Peter by now. The kid has come a long, long way since he snuck onto the Avengers helicarrier during the chaos of a Hydra raid. Skinny as a rail, scared, brainwashed...abused.

The Spider.

Peter didn’t like being with Hydra since they were the ones that made him enhanced, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be locked in an enclosed space with a bunch of Avengers at the time either.

As was evident by the fight he put up until Steve knocked him out. Steve still feels bad about cold-clocking a kid when Peter jokingly brings it up now, but Tony’s never shamed Steve for the decision. It was that or some kind of drug injection with the way Peter fought back tooth and nail, confused and defensive. Practically feral, from the well-fitting clothing to his lack of speech.

It was all for the better, though, once they got him back to the compound.

Peter was a talkative kid once he let himself be. Funny, too. Almost normal, if you forgot the mutant spider genetics and years of torture from a bunch of descendant assholes that seemed to hate and resent the very thing they created.

That’s why Tony agreed to let Peter start school. Real, normal, human school just like every other teenager in America attended until they finished all twelve years of it.

Because he needed to be normal, sometimes. He needed movie nights, [other things], and most importantly, friends that were his own age rather than a bunch of adult superheroes that often acted like children.

But also because Peter wanted to go, and Tony had a really, really hard time denying anything that the kid wanted when he could so easily provide.

Peter had such a hard time wanting anything, in the beginning. What did Peter want to wear instead of the plain, grey, dirty sweatpants from Hydra? What did Peter want to eat now that he could have an adequate amount of calories for his enhanced, still growing body? What did he want to watch? Listen to?

All of these choices were suddenly available to Peter, but shaking years of being denied any kind of want, any kind of choice took a toll on him that took a lot of work to get through.

Peter had put in the work. Unsurprisingly well. He was smart—tactically from years of being trained for missions, academically from whatever education Hydra must have thrust upon him. Not so much socially, but they were doing better as Peter spent more time around people that actually cared about him and lobbed insults around to tease rather than to actually cause emotional harm.

But was that enough...training, of sorts, to be around a bunch of teenagers? Sure, Peter was technically also a teenager, but they’d found him at 14. Tony still looked at Peter and saw the wide-eyed little kid sitting in the corner of a containment cell, flinching every time Tony moved.

Two years later and a lot of growth physically and emotionally, but was it enough?

Tony was hesitant about it, wish-washing the entire summer with maybes and I’ll think about its until the deadline arrived and Tony had to actually make the call.

Peter had pleaded, citing an extensive, cheesy list of films that made him want the high school experience himself for some reason. He very genuinely enjoyed shopping for school supplies. He passed Midtown’s entrance exam with results that faked years progressing in homeschooling that Tony knew would have been true, if Peter had gotten the chance to grow up like he was supposed to.

So, Tony eventually said yes, knowing that one day this call might come and Tony would have to be prepared for whatever was on the other end of the line.

An “incident” of some kind. Whatever that meant. The secretary was entirely unclear, only insistent that Peter’s family should get down to the premises immediately to handle things.

That was Tony.

Part of Tony couldn’t fathom why Peter chose him out of everyone on the team to latch onto. Another part wasn’t exactly shocked. Trauma recognized trauma, after all, even if the context was entirely different.

Tony knew what it was like to be belittled. To be seen as something you weren’t. To be abused by someone you never really trusted in the first place.

He and Peter talked a lot in that little containment cell. Hours of Tony blabbering like he always did when he was uncomfortable and Peter just sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting for the strikes to start coming.

When he said his first words.

When he told Tony his name—not Spider, but Peter Parker, a little boy from Queens who lost his parents and his whole normal life in the same night, according to FRIDAY’s records.

When he touched Tony’s arm for the first time and got a smile instead of a reprimand.

He waited and Tony was patient and it was a rough road, but...Tony was kind of a parent, now. A parental figure, at least, among others of varying degrees of quality and influence on a scarred teenager.

He was Peter’s family, whether either of them was any good at it in a traditional way or not.

And also, you know. His money was paying Peter’s tuition. His time went into helping Peter study for the entrance exam. His name was technically on Peter’s manufactured birth certificate because he was the one forging it and it wasn’t like anyone else was offering when the subject came up.

And maybe, a little, because he cared about Peter. Loved him. Wanted to be what Peter needed, what he deserved, and what better way to do that than to write his name on a piece of paper that signified the job he sort of kind of wanted?

Tony slams the car door behind himself after pulling into Midtown’s parking lot, putting on his sunglasses for the brief trip into the early afternoon sun. He’s checking security cameras, exits, and also preparing a hefty sum of cash to go into Principal Jim Morita’s bank account as well as a handful of government officials, if that’s what it takes.

Again, not that Tony doesn’t trust Peter, it’s just...when you get this kind of call and your kid is a highly trained former assassin, you prepare exit strategies on multiple fronts.

It’s been two months and Peter has only made one friend at this place. The kids can’t all be angels like Peter proclaims Ned Leeds to be. If one of them touched Peter out of nowhere or said the wrong thing, maybe Peter lashed out. Maybe Peter forgot to hold his strength back like he’s been training to do. Maybe something was broken.

Maybe it’s something far worse.

Tony has to be ready for that. He has to be ready for whatever it takes to protect Peter.

At the very least, the police aren’t on site. That’s probably a good sign that they’re willing to leave this as an internal matter for now.

The unhelpful secretary of before leads Tony out of the office by the arm at a quick pace, not explaining the situation at all before they arrive at the scene. Whatever it is. Tony was definitely expecting more blood or yelling or...anything, really.

A small crowd stands outside of a door, marked by a golden plaque to be the janitor’s closet.

Leaning on the door itself with his arms resolutely crossed is a kid about Peter’s age. Short black hair, light brown skin, dressed so similarly to Peter that Tony’s starting to wonder if that’s where Peter’s new obsession with those geeky little t-shirts has come from.

“Mister Leeds—” An older Asian man pleads, dressed in a suit and standing up straight with all of the authority he can seem to muster against the stone wall that is the teen in front of him.

The kid shakes his head in response. So this is Ned, then.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not moving. If he wants to stay in there to calm down, he should be allowed to stay in there.”

“I’m sure his parents—”

“He doesn’t even have—you don’t even know what he’s gone through!”

“And you do?”

“Well...kinda? No. But—but he’s obviously freaking out and everyone crowding around him is only going to make it worse!”

The adult rubs a hand across his forehead, stressing at a fold of wrinkles that settles there from the stress.

“Ned, I recognize you’re just trying to be a good friend, but this is a problem for—”

Tony clears his throat, catching the attention of both parties.

The older man sighs. “Oh, good. Thank you, Theresa, you can go on back to the office. We’ll take it from here.”

The secretary nods, brusquely turning around and heading off, leaving Tony there to be examined by both Ned and what must be the principal.

“Mister Stark, I’m glad you could come down, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Principal Morita.”

“Obviously you know who I am,” Tony replies, shaking the man’s hand. “What did happen, exactly? Theresa was sparse on the details.”

“I told you, it’s Flash’s fault! He was being a dick and—” Ned shouts.

“Mister Leeds.” The principal interrupts, stern. “Another student apparently said something...unkind to Peter. He didn’t take it well and locked himself in the closet. I haven’t even been able to assess the situation properly yet. Normally I would start with asking Peter’s side of the story, but...”

He looks to the closet, where Ned still stands, defensive.

“The bouncer is a real stickler, got it,” Tony jokes, aiming a small smile at Ned. “Peter does seem to attract the protective type.”

“Oh,” Ned says, suddenly meeting Tony’s eyes and gaping like a fish. He seems to have finally realized exactly who he’s talking to. “Oh, wow. Mister Stark, it’s an honor. I’m a huge fan, like, so huge. Peter tells me to shut up about you at least three times a day. When he showed me a picture of you guys I was like, ‘Oh my god, your dad is Tony Stark!’ and he was like ‘Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know who he is, huh?’ like he totally didn’t get how awesome it is that you’re Iron Man. And I know you’re only kind of his dad, but still—”

“It’s suddenly become very clear to me why you two are friends,” Tony responds, keeping his smile on.

It’s actually kind of sweet to see that Peter’s found someone to confide in, even if he’s seemingly left out the more traumatic elements. But he also knows that Peter can hear them through the door, and he wants to get to the kid as fast as possible instead of dawdling for time.

If Peter wants to see him, that is.

He does, doesn’t he? Tony has been there for everything, so far. Every breakdown when the choices became too much, when the world outside of Peter’s little cell and all of the things he did that he wishes he could forget attack him at night. He hasn’t gotten old enough to not want Tony around when he’s upset, right?

“Sorry, Mister Stark. Sorry,” Ned apologizes. “I’m just nervous and worried about Peter and—”

“I get it, kid. You’re good.” He gives a reassuring grasp to Ned’s shoulder. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to see Peter now. You can ask him yourself, but I’m usually the exception to any rule about Peter wanting to be alone.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just—”

Ned turns to open the door, but gives Morita a shifty look, like he doesn’t trust the man not to dive bomb in if given the chance.

“Peter—”

“Let him in,” replies Peter’s strained voice. He’s definitely been crying. Poor kid.

Ned pulls back and nods at Tony, stepping aside to let him through.

“You did a good job protecting him, Leeds. Thank you,” he says to the teen before stepping into the dimly lit closet and shutting the door behind him.

The room smells musty and over-powerful at the same time thanks to the potent combination of cleaners and the mop cart sitting so close together. Out of anywhere Peter could have picked, this probably isn’t the kindest to his sense of smell if it’s making Tony already scrunch his nose.

It’s lit by a single pull-chain light bulb, and in the shadows of it sits Peter, curled into himself and leaning against a rusty metal shelf filled with paper towels, cleaning equipment, and a few bottles of product that have to be expired.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony frowns at the cracked floor tile, but settles himself next to Peter anyway. His back catches some kind of spray bottle sitting on the shelf that digs uncomfortably into his back.

Peter sniffs, not looking up from the cradle of his arms. “Hey.”

Tony heaves a sigh, for the drama. “So, I hear you got your first bully.”

Peter shrugs. “Guess so.”

“That Ted kid is pretty nice. He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. And his name is Ned.”

Tony stops beating around the bush. “What happened, Peter?”

“It was fine. It was good, you know? I got an A+ on my Spanish test, and Misses Rodriguez offered to let me choose the movie we were gonna watch for the Cinco de Mayo party as a reward. I didn’t even know any of the movies, but Ned said Selena was good because Jennifer Lopez is hot, so that’s what I picked. It was a good day, Tony!”

“...But?”

“But then Flash—”

“I meant to ask, is that his actual name? Like, legally?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Flash said…he said I was a…” Peter’s hesitant to let it out.

“Pete, a lot of kids at this age are testing boundaries. They’re going to say a lot of stupid, insensitive, offensive—”

“He said I was a teacher’s pet.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Tony blinks curiously a few times. He doesn’t want to belittle what Peter’s feeling, but he also doesn’t understand why it’s caused him so much stress.

“I know, I know it’s—but they used to—” Peter swallows hard, probably only delaying another wave of tears. “Sometimes, before, they would call me…”

“Pet.”

Peter nods, starting to shake next to him on the floor, their arms lightly touching at just Tony saying the nickname.

“They liked it. I think it made them feel better about themselves if they acted like I wanted it. Like—like being locked in the cages or collared or—or being muzzled was good for me.”

“You need to learn a lesson, little pet. Be a good pet and eat your dinner. Stop your crying, pet. No more of your barking, pet.” Peter quotes with venom flinging from every syllable. “But I didn’t want that, Mister Stark! I promise! They gave me these powers and I didn’t want to be their pet and they made me—”

“Peter, I know. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault, I know.”

Tony curls Peter into his side, rubbing his back consolingly.

“When Flash called me that I just—I felt the collar around my neck again and I couldn’t breathe though the muzzle and they kept kicking the cage even though it hurt my ears and I could never sleep in there because it was so small and—”

“Peter—” Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s panicking, Tony realizes. Probably just like he did initially. A flashback that triggered him into having a panic attack.

“And I know that’s not what Flash meant but I was back there and I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Peter breaks into sobs, burying his face into Tony’s shirt and clutching on tight.

“Oh, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tony soothes.

He presses a kiss to Peter’s hair, unsure when he became this tender. Probably the moment he realized this was the way he wanted someone to treat him in the midst of his worst, most vulnerable moments.

“Sometimes the bad memories come back unexpectedly, it’s alright.”

“But don’t wanna think about it anymore!” Peter cries childishly.

If it wouldn’t break Tony’s ribs, Peter would probably start banging at his chest in frustration.

“What if it gets bad and I don’t talk anymore and I can’t go to school like a normal kid and I lose everything and then you won’t want me anymore because I can’t get over this and stop being a stupid animal who needs its owners to—”

“Peter Parker, no. Absolutely not.”

Tony pushes Peter away so he can hold the boy’s face in his hands. So that he can fucking imbue into this kid how much he is loved and cherished and human.

“You’re not property, and you’re not an animal. What they did to you was wrong, and you know that now. I know that you do.”

Not just because Peter’s been to therapy since integrating with the Avengers, but also because he’s talked to all of him during his recovery from the horrors of his earlier childhood. About how his life felt before and how it feels better now. How he wouldn’t have left in the first place if he really wanted to be a part of Hydra like they raised him to want.

He’s not the child soldier they raised anymore. He’s so much more than they ever allowed him to be in that awful place.

He loosens his grip on Peter’s face only to bring him back again with an arm around his shoulder. Maybe if Peter feels him, touches him, the kid will remember all of the growth he’s made, the family he’s gained.

“Buddy, you are getting better. I know it. I’ve seen it. You know we’re all so proud of you and the progress you’ve made.”

Tony sighs. Part of him wants to sugarcoat it. That Peter has seen the worst of the world and now he’ll just be able to move on from it scott-free. It’s what he deserves, but Tony knows from experience that nothing in life is that sort of kind.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t have setbacks. I have had setbacks. Healing from the bad stuff is really, really hard, but it doesn’t make you anything that they said you were. You’re a wonderful, good kid who deserves everything he’s worked so hard for. And you’re going to get it because you have me and the team and your new best friend behind your back. You’re not alone, you’re not in a cage, you’re—you’re home, Pete. You understand?”

Peter sniffs, a sign that he’s worked himself up again, but his weak nod into Tony’s chest tells him that some of them at least might be happier tears.

“Listen to me, Pete. And I mean really, truly listen.” He looks down at the snot-covered, tear-stained teenager practically in his lap. He does love Peter. He wouldn’t have gone this far for any other kid in the world.

“It doesn’t matter what happens—hitches, mishaps, a dumb teenage mistake. You’re our kid now, Peter. You’re never going back to Hydra. Never. Not with me around.”

He knows it means something to say it out loud rather than leaving it to be assumed. He doesn’t have as much of a problem admitting it as he thought he might.

“I’m never giving you up, or letting you go, or treating you like anything other than a person. Do you understand me? That is something you never, ever have to worry about. Not from me.”

Peter sobs against him. This time it feels a lot more like relief. A release in the safety of Tony’s arms that Peter hasn’t really allowed himself, even after two years of being free of Hydra.

Peter didn’t tell the team everything. He may never even tell Tony everything. But this is one more thing Peter doesn’t have to carry alone, and Tony is happy to help their kid navigate the horrors it's brought back into his improving life.

They sit there for another minute, Peter’s whimpers muffled in Tony’s dress shirt. He’s sure the principal and Peter’s friend are getting antsy. But all the same it gives Peter another chance to calm down, and this time he seems a lot lighter when he picks his head up to look at Tony.

“Feel better?”

Peter gives a sniffle, but accompanies it with a nod and bright, attentive eyes.

“Look, I think school’s a bust for the day. Let’s go home. Whatever you wanna do, just you and me. Nobody else needs to hear about this unless you want to tell them, okay?”

“And if you wanted, I guess…”

Peter tilts his head, expectant.

“We could...nah, it’s probably offensive, right?”

“What?” Peter insists. Tony tried to warn him, but Tony also can’t resist an idea once it pops into his head.

“I just thought, you know, if you wanted—if you thought it would help, we could get you a—“ He almost ruins it, but catches himself. “An animal. Like a dog or something.”

Peter is silent. He bites at his lip, contemplative. Looks in the direction of a mop bucket in the corner.

“Is that bad? You don’t have to, I just thought it might make you associate that word with good things, but if not—“

Peter finally meets his eyes with a tentative grin on his face.

“What kind of dog?”

#irondad #spiderson #au #friendly neighborhood exchange 2021 #marvel #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #hailxhydra

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xxx-cat-xxx · 3 years

Text

heaven forbid (you end up alone)

Two years on and I'm still not over Endgame. But at least I finally finished this fic!

A word of warning; this one is Endgame-compliant and centred around the topic of grief and Pepper’s and Happy’s friendship in the aftermath of Tony’s death.

Major thanks to @twentyghosts for beta reading.

Throughout her life, Pepper has always divided her days into small pieces, regulated by meticulous plans. She can’t remember ever waking up without a mental―or written―to-do list and a clear idea in which order to tackle it. It’s her way of managing a multinational company. Of managing Tony, which was arguably more challenging than SI’s 300,000 other employees combined. Of managing her own alien-invaded, super power-sprinkled, increasingly absurd life.

And whenever things get overwhelming and she feels like she’s falling into a bottomless, desperate pit, that’s what she does: plans the next 30 minutes, and then the 30 minutes after that, and so on until it’s one thirty am and she is tired enough to fall into bed without having to think about anything except what’s ticked off on the list and what’s left for tomorrow.

That’s what she does now, seven weeks after her husband’s death.

This Saturday is booked for tidying up the closets. There is no need to keep Tony’s clothes, other than a few special ones for memory’s sake, the band shirts and the ones with the science puns she still likes to sleep in. And it would be a waste to wait any longer to donate them: even two months on, there is more than enough need out in the streets due to the chaos that came on after the reverse.

Homeless people wearing 5000 dollar suits, that would have been to Tony’s taste.

Pepper has cleared her schedule well in advance, picked a weekend Morgan can stay with Rhodey, already ordered the Dress for Success pick-up for the next morning. Made a plan of action, starting with the top floor.

All that’s left now is to do it.

“Okay, Virginia,” she tells herself. The name feels unfamiliar on her tongue, but maybe she needs this, needs the reminder that she had a life before Tony Stark and, as horrible as it sounds, will have one after him. “Get up. Drink some water. Go through the closets.”

It’s just that she can’t.

She enters the bedroom, their bedroom, her bedroom, opens the cupboard. And then she stands in front of it for almost twenty minutes, unable to bring herself to move.

Finally, her legs grow a bit weak under her and she has to sit down on the floor, less and less successfully fighting the feeling that the air around her is completely devoid of oxygen. She can’t breathe. She can’t get up. She can’t walk over to the closet and get started with the next item on her list―it’s as if there’s an invisible barrier between her and the task. She just can’t.

It takes her almost 45 minutes before she finally calls Happy.

Much like Tony, Pepper is someone who distracts herself with work, and looking after Morgan, organising the funeral and getting the Stark Foundation into motion to set up shelters for four million Returned without a place to go have been tasks so time-consuming that she didn’t have any other option than just to function, and function well. Almost well enough to trick herself into believing that she’ll be fine.

Sometimes she wonders whether she has become so good at perfecting the image she shows to the public that she doesn’t even know anymore who she actually is.

“Hey.”

She hadn't noticed Happy’s presence until he is standing in the doorframe.

“Happy,” she greets, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears.

“Oh, Pepper.” He looks her up and down, his expression equal parts sad and kind. “Come on. Let’s get you up from the floor.”

She pushes away his hands helping her up, she doesn’t need them, doesn’t need any help, but then the world blurs suddenly and she kind of does. Happy steadies her when she sways, alarmed but not as surprised as she’d want him to be. It would irritate her, on normal days, because she can take care of herself, doesn’t need anyone to hold her, thank you very much. But today she is just a bit too tired to pretend.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, voice still too warm when he guides her over to the bed and sits her down.

“I had...tea this morning.”

“And last night?”

She is silent. He sighs, and she deflects, “Haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

“Alright, I’ll go find us some food. Just stay here.”

“Thanks, Happy,” she says quietly.

He sighs again. “It’s alright. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I’m just glad I’m here.”

She nods. She knew it too, that she wouldn’t be able to distract herself forever, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. But that’s the thing. She wasn’t afraid of it happening, only of the After―of things calming down and her having to deal with the lonely, horrible, rest of her life. Of realising that the inevitable breakdown doesn’t help a single bit. That picking up the pieces is not in the least easier than keeping them together.

Happy returns 15 minutes later with a big bag of cavity-inducing gas station doughnuts, sprinkles and all. The mere thought of biting into one makes Pepper’s stomach roll.

“I’m not sure I can eat those,” she tells him when he sits next to her on the bed and leans against the headboard.

“Just try.”

She does, fighting down the looming nausea, and, surprisingly, the sweetness helps. She breathes out, one and a half doughnuts and a small bottle of orange juice later, and finds that her head feels clearer.

“Morgan would love this,” she observes, nodding at the rest of the treats. “She’s been trying to bully me into making her waffles for breakfast every single morning of the last whole month.”

“So, did she succeed?”

Pepper shakes her head. “It’s bad for her health. But she keeps throwing tantrums. I know it’s because of what happened, but god, she's been so difficult. The way she shouts at me, sometimes I think she hates me.”

Happy sets down his reusable coffee cup and looks straight at her. “She doesn't, Pepper."

She can’t stop herself from snorting. “How would you possibly know?”

“I can see the way she looks at you. Looks up to you. She adores you.”

“I…” Pepper bites her lip, unable to decide whether that’s something she wants to share. Life has taught her that it’s usually better to keep your weaknesses to yourself if you want to stay on top. But then, it’s not like there is any competition of people wanting to parent her daughter. “I don’t know about that. I know she misses Tony, but I also feel that she misses...a parent who knows how to handle her. I’m not―sometimes I’m afraid I’m not a very good mother.”

“That’s not true, Pep, and you know it.”

She takes a deep breath. “I never wanted to have children, Happy. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want Morgan, once we decided in favour of me getting pregnant. And I never regretted having her. But it was mostly Tony who pushed for this, who needed this. He has - had - a way with kids...you know, I can be strict, but he can―could―get her to do what is necessary without even having to raise his voice. And sometimes I just wonder―what if I ruin it, Happy? She only has me.”

“Firstly, that’s not true. Rhodey and I are here for you too. You got your sister, and I’m sure Peter would be more than happy to babysit as well. There’s more than biological parents for a kid, you know that better than anyone, right?”

She nods, hesitantly.

“And secondly,” he continues, “You are doing great under the circumstances. Nobody is born a parent. But if you’re good at anything, then it is to adapt to difficult situations. You can do this, Pepper.”

“Yeah, I know… I know I can.”

And that’s exactly the point. Pepper has always pulled through. Everyone expects her to keep functioning, and she isn’t one to miss people’s expectations. But sometimes she wonders if she’s still alive in there.

They finish up the doughnuts and start tackling the clothes. It goes surprisingly smoothly, and Happy even coaxes a few hesitant chuckles out of her when he fishes a gold-glittery mankini and a few other special-occasion items out of the far corner of Tony’s wardrobe. They are three boxes in and have moved one floor down when Pepper takes a break to pee and wash the dust off her face in the guest bathroom.

Tony’s shaver is lying on the edge of the sink. He must have been shaving here the day he left for the compound, likely because Pepper or Morgan were using the upstairs bathroom, and left it there. She always tells him to put it back in the cupboard and he always forgets―forgot. She picks it up, ready to put it where it belongs, when it hits her.

It’s futile. It’s a personal shaver of a man who’s never going to need one again. Nobody’s ever going to use this particular shaver again. She could just as well throw it away.

Pepper feels anger burn hot and fierce in her chest. She opens her mouth, to scream, maybe, but all that comes out is a broken sob.

Happy must have been listening for her from the other room, because he is there in an instant. She turns away, reflexively hiding the tears on her face, but he stops her.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay to cry.”

“I need to―I don’t have time―”

“I think we can clear fifteen minutes in your schedule for a breakdown, right?” Happy teases, the smallest of smiles on his face although he looks close to tears himself.

A memory strikes, and she chuckles through the sobs, then cries harder.

“What’s it?”

“That’s just the kind of thing he would have said.”

“Oh, Tony,” Happy smiles sadly.

“I just―I miss him so much, Happy. It’s―It’s all the small things―his shaver―the tinkering and the empty pizza boxes everywhere and the never-ending cups of coffee and the way he just keeps on talking, to his bots and to me and Morgan―and―” she runs out of breath.

“I know. I miss him too.”

“You know, the way he used to stick his tongue between his teeth when he was concentrating and not realising anyone was around? Morgan did the same recently while drawing, and I just―sometimes I just can’t―”

“You can do it, Pepper. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s you. You are strong.”

Pepper laughs, but it sounds shrill and false in her ears.

“People say that all the time, you know? And the worst thing―you know what the worst thing is?”

Happy shakes his head.

“The worst thing is, it’s true. You know, early into the relationship I was thinking that I can’t live without him. I was so, so scared something would happen to him, so I tried to stop him from being Iron Man… And then we took a break, and he ended up half-dead in Siberia, and at that time I realised that yes, I can live without him. It just wasn’t a life I wanted to live. And now―thinking that I have to do this every day, it’s just―it’s like someone is sitting on my chest and strangling me, over and over again.”

She hears Happy swallow hard, then he shuffles closer and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. One of the bear hugs that got her through the time when Tony was in Afghanistan and both of her parents died in the span of three months, that got Tony through his panic attacks, and Morgan through some of her nightmares.

She feels water drop onto her neck, and she knows Happy is crying too.

They do finish the clothes before nightfall, because Pepper has always been awfully good at ticking off to-do lists, even on the worst days. When they are done, they get a bottle of red wine from the cellar and empty it in Tony’s honour, sitting near the lake where Pepper and Tony once spent a whole night just after they bought the house getting eaten by mosquitos, when they decided to turn it from a temporary recovery getaway into a home for as long as time would grant them.

Morgan took her first steps here, had her first fall, cried buckets in Pepper’s arms while Tony put a band-aid on the scratch on her elbow, and Pepper remembers thinking how little children know of pain. A few steps below Pepper laid the arc reactor to water, holding the hand of the girl who now knew so, so much of it; and sometimes she doesn’t know if she wants to preserve the place forever or burn it all down.

They sit and drink and at some point Pepper closes her eyes, and through the buzz of alcohol she can almost imagine that Tony is in the garage, finishing up a project before joining them for the night.

She thinks of him with love, with tenderness, with unforgiving pain.

She wonders if it will ever get easier. She wonders if she even wants it to be.

They go to bed at two. Happy takes the guest room where Tony’s shaver is now lying at the bottom of a dust bin. Pepper lies wide awake, her window open, listening to the familiar sounds of life far away from the city.

She will fall asleep eventually, facing away from the empty side of the bed. She will wake up at six, a little hungover, force herself to start the day with yoga and a run. Will call Dress for Success to make sure they get to the house on time, will oversee the pick-up. Will have breakfast with Happy so he doesn’t have to worry about her passing out when he gets on his way. Will sit through an SI video conference until it’s time to pick up Morgan, maybe take her to the mall or to see a movie on the way back home from Rhodey’s. Will make her dinner, give her a bath, put her to bed on time, if possible without a tantrum. Will tackle her email inbox until a headache will force her to bed. Will make a plan for Monday, another Monday without Tony, before falling asleep. Will wake up and face that one too.

Rinse and repeat, one day at a time.

All my fics

All my Pepperony fics

#pepperony moments #mcd #(canonical)#pepper potts needs a hug #happy hogan gives her one #remembering tony #thanks to everyone who gives this a try despite the heavy topic!#i appreciate you

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marvelbitch23 · 3 years

Text

These are some of my favorite marvel fics.

Enjoy!

whatever souls are made of - atypicalsnowman - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Stephen Strange/Tony Stark

Soul bonding canon divergence. Fourteen million futures and Stephen saw just one where they win. Tony has to soul bond to a virtual stranger whereas Stephen... Stephen is in love.

This is a story of how two broken men became friends, then family, then fell in love.

And saved the universe.

The Guiding of Death - Chapter 1 - RayShippouUchiha - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

James “Bucky” Barnes/Female Tony Stark

“Hades and Persephone reborn huh,” Fury states then more than asks, “no need to ask which is which.”

Toni’s brows furrow even as dread begins to squirm to life inside of her.

But before she can say anything, before she can open her mouth and set the record straight, she hears it.

A murmur as loud as a scream from somewhere in the tomb silent bridge.

“That whole Merchant of Death thing,” someone off to the side faux whispers, “makes a lot more sense now.”

It echoes across the bridge like a gunshot.

The Devouring of Hearts - Chapter 1 - RayShippouUchiha - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Tony Stark

Toni’s gums ache for a split second, fresh blood flooding her mouth before she swallows it.

And in that next second that curl of darkness inside of her sits up and decides that this, that Howard’s continued cruelty and abuse, will no longer be allowed.

Toni licks the blood from her now too sharp teeth before she plants her hands on the floor in front of her and pushes herself back up onto her feet.

This time when Howard lashes out at her Toni ducks low to avoid the blow.

Crouched on the hall floor, sharp nails digging into the dark wood beneath her, Toni hisses, takes a moment to calculate, and then she leaps.

We Can Do Better - Chapter 1 - Zeethulhu - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

14,000,605 universes and only one win in the time Doctor Strange had to look.

This is not the universe where they won against Thanos. Sitting in the ruins of their battlefield, knowing everything he swore to protect, his universe was coming to an end, Stephen makes a choice.

Sacrificing his body for a spell, he takes the only souls he knows can orchestrate a victory back in time. A spell created by his own hands, fueled with his sacrifice, he catapults himself and Tony Stark back to the moments of their birth.

With their reality at stake, they need to create a chance for their time-line to win. After all, their universe wasn't the one that won.

Peter Parker's Adventure Through Time and Space - Chapter 1 - Sciencelings - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Irondad

Comic book science and time travel make for a great fic. Alternate realities, past timelines, space and a whole lot more. Spoilers for infinity war stuff but by now we probably don't need that.

Basically Peter meets everyone in the Marvel universe and everyone loves him. But with more plot.

Peter travels through alternate realities and has to fix problems that aren't really his but he has no sense of self preservation so you can see how that goes.

Peter is a [Genius Playboy Superhero] Orphan - Chapter 1 - squishychiminie - Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Losing Gwen was more than just heartbreaking for Peter Parker. It shattered him. That’s three people he loved, and failed to save. But, he must piece himself back together, swallow his misery, and do what has to be done.

Can he keep the glue from cracking?

The one where an angsty kid owns a small but thriving business and is also one reckless bamf

Disclaimer: Mentions of (at some point in passing) drugs, alcohol, depression, bullying, abuse, sex, blood, murder, suicidal thoughts/ tendencies, loss of a loved one, etc.

PROOF SPIDER-MAN LOVES CLICKBAIT - Chapter 1 - mauvera - Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) [Archive of Our Own]

Harley/Peter

When Peter Parker gets a job working at Buzzfeed there's really only one subject he can write about: superheroes. And what superhero does he know better than everyone's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?

What he didn't expect was that everyone would think Peter's new obsession with the hero would be interpreted quite like That.

stay, i pray you - Chapter 1 - floweryfran - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark

There is a tap on the table top and a quiet, “Scusatemi, signorina,” and she looks up. There is a boy there, no more than twenty, and he is undoubtedly American, though his Italian is so polished that even she would be unsure if not for his hesitant slouch— discomfort, it says I am out of place. His gaze is not demanding. It is not cold, either— but intelligent, distant. Not assessing, but calculating. As if she is made of code, and he is reading her.

“I speak English,” she tells him, “better than Italian.”

He slumps with something akin to relief. “Oh- that’s. That’s cool. I’m really sorry to ask-“ and he looks it, wincing and pulling his own fingers, “-but would it be okay if I sit with you? My mamma is in a formaggeria across the piazza and I desperately don’t want to stand in there and smell cheese for an hour so I was gonna grab an espresso but every other table is filled and I don’t want to impose but—?” He looks at her. He is sharp, ardent with a wisdom that puts her teeth on edge. No young man should look like that: as if he has stared straight into the barrel of a gun and laughed at the bullet, swallowed it whole.

He looks old for his age. He just. He looks.

Sharpen Your Teeth - Chapter 1 - STARSdidathing - The Avengers (Marvel Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Tony Stark/ Loki

A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Shadow of Grief, Ghost of Hope - Chapter 1 - Zeelian - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark

Finding out about his parents' murder at the hand of the Winter Soldier, Captain America's old war buddy, pushes Tony Stark into a very dark place and he turns to the former HYDRA assassin with a burning fury, part of him screaming for revenge.

Finding out that Steve knew and didn't tell him pushes him over the edge and he lashes out against the super soldier, but just as Steve is about to retaliate the Winter Soldier takes Tony by surprise, by knocking Steve out and surrendering.

The Asset knows that to be free HYDRA must be crushed, and for that to happen his best chance is the resources of Tony Stark, when Captain America shows up in Bucharest the fragmented memories of who he once was tells him that the Captain will protect him and bring him to the Avengers so the Asset goes with him, but when the Captain is about to attack Iron Man with deadly intent he makes a choice and goes against the voices within.

The Asset neutralizes the Captain and surrenders to Iron Man, hoping that he will be able to convince the man to use HYDRA's own weapon to take them down.

#marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes/tony stark #Stephen strange/tony Stark #female tony stark #tony Stark/Loki #Harley keener/peter Parker #fic rec #fan fiction recommendations

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wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl · 3 years

Note

hey! could i possibly request a blaine one shot where the reader is another girl working on the ski patrol with blaine and they absolutely hate each other, but one day they get stuck in a snowstorm during work and end up lost for a few days? and during those few days they just get more and more lied up with each other until they just end up hate-fucking our in the open? it can end however, but i’ve been dying for some blaine action🥰🥰thank you💕

Thank you so much nonnie! I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope you enjoy it too!

Warnings: Fat Shaming, smut, slight bullying.

If there are any misspellings I’m sorry! I wrote this all on tumblr and didn’t get a time to proofread it in a different document.

Ice, Ice, Baby.

_______________________________________________

You walked to the cafe for hot chocolate at seven o’clock in the morning to prepare for your shift. It wasn’t easy being on ski patrol, that’s for sure.

Dads always tried hitting on you while you were trying to watch their wives kids struggle to learn the most basic of skiing. You just nodded in agreement and smiled a little to get through the conversations. Wouldn’t wanna get written up for being “rude” to a paying member of the resort. It wasn’t always so bad, some of the dads were kind of cute, and they always tipped well if you just did the bare minimum of looking good and reacting to their advances. You weren’t even supposed to get tipped, but that didn’t stop them. However, you didn’t enjoy watching their wives glare at you around dinner time. You could always feel their eyes burning into the back of your head.

Although you absolutely loathed the attention from the dad’s (besides the occasional tip), there was one reason why you absolutely dreaded going to work every day.

Blaine. You could say he was the Blaine of your existence. Shitty dad jokes always crept into your head due to how much time you end up spending with them.

You had tried being nice the first couple of weeks into the job, only to be met with incredible amounts of misogyny and downright assholeishness. God, you hated him. It was so unlike you to hate anyone, but the kid was ruthless.

He always made nasty remarks about the way you look, whether it was your facial features or your weight, he had it covered. Even though he always tried to get his friends to join in on the action, they never did. Everyone else liked you at the resort. Blaine was the only problem.

You made your way up to your snowmobile, tredging in the deep snow with your backpack and snow shoes on. You secured your hot chocolate and your backpack before riding it all the way up to your post. The post wasn’t too bad by itself. It was close to a nearby cabin in case of emergencies, stocked with food, with working water and electricity to last for up to a month. Even longer if it was less than 4 people.

You finally arrived at your post, hoping Blaine wouldn’t be there yet.

He was.

Fuck.

“You’re looking plump today y/n, more than usual. Must be from all the hot chocolate you’ve been drinking” he said laughing to Chaz. Chaz just rolled his eyes under his sunglasses. You could tell.

“Ha ha Blaine, you’re so original. It’s not like I’ve heard that one before yesterday. Or the day before that. Or the day before that.”

“Yeah, well I think saying it everyday is a good reminder. Maybe I’ll see you in the resort gym one day because of it.”

“Why? Is it cause ya wanna see my tits bounce in a sports bra? Get ya all hot and bothered?”

Blaine just gritted his teeth in response. You could tell he wanted to say something, but didn’t cause he didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

Blaine always had a pretty girl on his arm. You doubt he was attracted to you, but you say those things because it shuts him up every time.

You bundled up extra today. The news said there was a possibility of a snow storm, but it was highly unlikely. Still, the wind chill was extremely cold today, making you double up on the clothes underneath your snow suit. You wore a beanie, mittens, and a scarf too, just in case.

You and Chaz chatted for a while, Blaine giving you resentful side glances and a few eye rolls here and there to show his detest towards your interaction. God, what was his fucking problem?

At about noon, Chaz took his lunch, leaving you and Blaine alone for at least a half an hour.

Silence filled the mountains. Barely anyone was out on the slopes due to the potential storm coming, but that didn’t stop your job from making you go out anyways.

The silence was broken with a call from the walkie talkies. It was your manager, Janice.

“Get off the slopes, news just confirmed one of the worst snow storms to hit this side of the mountain in three years. I repeat ge-“

The walkie talkies went silent. The wind began to pick up, starling both you and Blaine. You acted quickly, knowing this could be a life or death situation. You both hopped on your snowmobiles to get to the cabin nearby. Unfortunately, Blaines wasn’t working. You quickly shouted “Get on!” Reluctantly, Blaine hopped on the back of your snowmobile. Thank god it was his snowmobile that wasn’t working. You’re not so sure Blaine would’ve rescued you if it was your snowmobile that died and not his.

You reached the cabin just in time, the snow finally picking up with the wind. You quickly grabbed the keys from your snowmobile and stuck them in the front door.

“Hurry! Jesus Christ we’ll die at this rate!”

“I’m trying asshole! Stop yelling at me!”

The door finally swung open. You and Blaine rushed inside, aggressively slamming the door behind you and locking it.

Both catching your breath while clutching onto your things, you made eye contact.

Of course you thought.

Of course I’m stuck with the one goddamn person who hates me in the middle of one of the biggest snowstorms of the decade.

Blaine didn’t hold back what he was thinking.

“Great, I’m stuck with Fat Albert with minimal supplies. We’ll be out of food by tomorrow.”

You scowled at him snd stood up.

“THAT’S IT. First of all, I’m not fat. Second off, even if I was, that is none of your goddamn business to make comments on it. I have fat on my body. Just because I’m not the twink of the century like you doesn’t mean I should be degraded for it. We are stuck here for god only knows how long. If you just shut up I’m sure we can make it through this. But you’ve got to stop being such a fucking asshole to me all the time.”

Blaine just stood there and rolled his eyes again at your response. At least he didn’t open his loud mouth.

Such a fucking drama queen.

_______________________________________________

As the sun began to set, your stomach started to growl, loudly. You resisted eating all day due to Blaines comments, but you knew you had to eat at some point.

You gathered the courage to make your way into the kitchen to look around.

Thank god they keep this up to date regularly.

There were tons of cans of different soups, ravioli, spaghetti, fruits and vegetables, and non-perishables that would keep you sustained for a long time. Especially with only two people being in the cabin.

You decided to microwave some of the ravioli. Just as you opened the microwave door, it shut again with a hand directly planted on the glass.

“Well well well, what do we have here? Is two ton Tony looking for a little snack?” Blaine said in a mocking tone.

“Fuck off Blaine. It’s dinner time, I’m hungry and I know you are too. You just haven’t eaten yet to prove a damn point and humiliate me. Now if you don’t shut up I will eat all the food and make sure you starve to death.”

He grimaced at your response and walked to a cupboard to look for food of his own. Thank god. You swore you were five seconds away from giving him a swift punch to the face.

You both ate your dinners in separate rooms. You didn’t want to interact with each other more than you had to.

After a few more hours of existing in separate rooms, you decided you wanted to fall asleep for the night. You casually walked into the bedroom, having absolutely no pajamas to change into, you figured you would either sleep with the clothes you had on or just sleep in your underwear. There were enough blankets to keep you warm if you did end up choosing the latter. As you walked into the room you noticed something horrible.

There was only one bed.

How could this even be possible? There were supposed to be four, as most times three to four people were on ski patrol.

Then you remembered three out of the four beds were taken out two months ago, as they were desperately disgusting. The shipments for the new beds hadn’t come in yet, figuring a situation like this wouldn’t even happen at all.

Go figure.

You decided since you got to the bedroom first, you’d have the bed. Fuck Blaine, he’d been an asshole to you the entire time you’ve known him, he can sleep on the damn couch.

You began to strip, thinking it was wise not to smell up the two sets of clothes you had to last you for god only knows how long.

You ended up sleeping in a bra and underwear. Normally you wouldn’t have even worn the bra, but considering Blaine was in the building and you couldn’t lock the bedroom door, you figured it was the safest bet.

As you crawled into bed you heard footsteps heading towards the bedroom.

Here we go.

Blaine entered, looking just as bewildered as you did when you found out there was only one bed.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You ignored his comment, simply rolling over under the covers.

He stormed over to the bed and ripped the blanket off, revealing your half-naked body in the process.

You became infuriated.

“Hey!!! Do you fucking mind!” You said screaming and grabbing for the blanket.

Blaine stood there in a daze for several seconds, not expecting to see as much as he was planning on seeing.

Thank god I had my bra on.

You expected Blaine to have a comeback to seeing your body. Something about a beached whale ending up in the bed, or anything along those lines. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He had nothing to say at all. He just turned around and slammed the door behind him.

What the fuck was his issue? Whatever it was, he better fix it fast. Your patience was running thin, and it was only day one.

_______________________________________________

Several days had gone by, and the snowstorm wasn’t slowing down at all.

Blaine had ignored you at all costs. If he had to interact with you, he always made some snide comment under his breath. This somehow pissed you off even more. At least before you didn’t have to guess what he was thinking, he said it directly to your face. Now, you had no clue what he was saying about you. God it made your blood boil.

It was around lunchtime again when you saw him. You had chosen to eat chicken noodle soup that day, as you had been colder that day compared to most others.

On your way out of the kitchen, you bumped into Blaine.

You heard him make a comment under his breath again, something alone the lines of “.......fucking bitch.......where you’re goin.”

You had had enough.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He was taken aback by your abrasiveness. Nonetheless, he still had a response to your question.

“I said, watch where the hell you’re going you fucking bitch.” He enunciated slowly, in a condescending manner.

You were done.

“I’ve had enough of this fucking bullshit Blaine. Why the hell do you hate me so much? What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“Your looks have insulted me from the day I met you. I learned all that I needed to know by just looking at you.”

Out of no where, you decided to shove him. You shoved him so hard he hit the wall behind him.

He looked confused and offended.

“Did you just shove me?”

“I don’t know, did I just shove you? Or did you trip over your enormous fucking ego?”

Blaine stood up tall and pinned you to the wall.

He looked you dead in the face, his eyes piercing into you with anger and something else...

You returned his stare, hopefully having the same effect on him that he was having on you.

After staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, Blaine kissed you, hard.

You resisted, you resisted so much but your head didn’t have anywhere to go. After a few seconds you gave into the kiss, slowly moving your lips with his. You hated to admit it, but his lips were so soft. It was like kissing clouds surrounding the gates to heaven.

Finally, Blaine pulled back and began staring into your eyes once more. Again, you lept at each other. You grabbed his hair and the side of his face, while he grabbed your hair and your ass to hike up your leg against his hip. Your lips were on each other in no time, sucking and pulling on both his lips and his tongue.

God you were so turned on.

You hated that he made you feel this way but fuck if he wasn’t good. He felt so goddamn good.

He hoisted you up against the wall, your legs wrapping around his hips as you continued to aggressively make out like the two horny twenty-one-year-olds you were. After kissing for five minutes straight, Blaine put you down so you could both remove your pants.

You spoke first “We don’t tell anyone about this.”

Blaine just nodded in agreement, eager to put his cock inside of you.

He hoisted you up against the wall for a second time, wasting no time shoving his cock into your pussy.

“Ohhhh fuck Blaine... go slow go slow...”

You also hated to admit it, but he wasn’t lacking in at least one department.

He smirked, knowing it was too much for you in such a short amount of time.

“What’s wrong y/l/n, can’t get fucked right either?”

“Maybe if you fucked me better I wouldn’t have to complain so much.”

All the talking had allowed time for your pussy to become soaked. Blaine could feel how wet you were. He also noticed how tight you were.

“Fuck, your pussy has been this tight the entire time and you never told me?”

“Oh Jesus Christ just shut up and fuck me before I change my mind Blaine.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He also took it upon himself to take that as the cue to go as fast as he needed to.

He started pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace, making absurdly loud slapping noises in the process.

You couldn’t help but moan into his neck, his name on your lips every ten seconds.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck Blaine don’t stop! Oh god don’t fucking stop.”

He loved hearing his name come out of your mouth like that. In all honesty, Blaine has wanted to fuck you since the day he met you. He suppressed that lust with crude comments, hoping the feelings would subside. Guess that didn’t work out too well.

“Yeah you like that baby? Huh? Like that I’m fucking your pretty pussy?”

“Oh god yes Blaine! Fuck me harder!”

He wasted no time, pounding into you as fast and as hard as he could. You couldn’t help but let your eyes roll in the back of your head as he fucked you so good you thought you were about to see God himself.

Blaine loved seeing you like this, drained by him fucking you relentlessly. In fact, he loved it so much he felt the need to repress his feelings once again, which would be his last effort in trying to do so.

“I still fucking hate you, oh god, oh fuck.”

You looked at him, dead in the eyes, and said “Bold words coming from a man who’s cock is in me.”

All he could do was smile, going in for another kiss while he continued to plow you.

Both of your moans filled the cabin, screaming with no shame, knowing for a fact no one would hear you.

You felt a tight coil forming in your lower stomach, causing you to hold onto Blaine’s shoulders tighter.

“Oh fuck Blaine, I’m gonna cum, oh god I’m gonna cum.”

Blaine took it upon himself to whisper more comments in your ear as you reached your climax together.

“Goddamn right you’re gonna cum on my cock. This is my pussy. No one else gets to touch it, just me. Cum for me baby, you can do it.”

You both screamed as you came, Blaine unintentionally spilling his seed into you. Thank god you remembered to bring your birth control pill.

Just as you two were coming down from your high, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye.

Not something, but someone.

It was Chaz.

You hadn’t noticed while you were fucking, but the snow had cleared up enough just for a one person rescue party. Chaz had come in just moments ago. However, he didn’t say anything. He really didn’t have anything to say. He was stunned.

As you both stared at Chaz, you were the first to speak.

“Well, fuck.”

#hot tub time machine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #Blaine/reader #Blaine x reader

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scorpionwins · 3 years

Text

An AU where Archie's a ruthless villain who hates the Southside and FP, because FP left him, Fred, and Jug behind (let's say Fredsythe was married in this AU, but Gladys somehow convinced FP to leave his family in Riverdale for Toledo or smthg) and not only is his baby brother in love with a tall, beast of a boy southie fucker, but Moose, one of his closest friends, is also in a secret relationship with the tall fucker's best friend.

LIKE. ARCHIE IS A BOY, RIGHT? A bully, sure. It seems harmless (it's not. Reggie being forced into exile, having to give up his jacket and spot on the team, and shunned away to eat by the dumpsters, is not harmless.

Archie breaking into biology class with his posey in tow after the serpents transfer, that too wide, too friendly smile plastered on his cruelly handsome face staring at the three kids sitting tight in their chairs as dead snakes, stabbed, gutted, skinned, get thrown at their dissection trays , isn't harmless. It's a war declaration. One that no one takes seriously enough.)

Archie gains control over the school young; He's bigger than the other kids. Bigger, badder, meaner. Has a sharp mind, too cutting for someone so small, with enough knowledge to disguise it as innocence when he needs to.

"Fear and respect sleep together, you know, " he whispers to Cheryl. Bitchy, icy, insecurity filled Cheryl, on their first day of junior year, no Jason at her side. He must be hand in hand with Polly Cooper somewhere, and he's willing to bet his guitar it bothers the girl to the bone. "Stick with me. We're gonna run this nothing town."

Archie fits just right with the bulldogs; He wants to lead, not follow, thought. And Cheryl grows fangs of her own.

And they do; Unknown to Jughead, the only person besides his father Archie has love for, they do, and their rule is a glorious and brutal one.

Then Cheryl meets the tiny serpent girl with too much nerve to be considered smart. And things... Change.

"What do you mean I didn't make the team?! I was the best one there! "

She was. She was, and that's what makes Cheryl's skin crawl. "Evidently, we possess anonymous viewpoints of what 'best' means."

"... You're afraid of him, aren't you? Cheryl fucking Blossom, scared of one man."

Cheryl tenses, crimson lips tight. "Everyone is scared of Archie. But not me. This is not about fear,- I cried, and begged, and bled for this team. It happens to be the one thing in my life I have a pinch of control over. I won't endanger that just because of pretty Southside trailer trash not realizing she's aiming too her for such a laughable stature."

" ... You think I'm pretty?"

Cheryl doesn't dignify that with a response.

Unsurprisingly, Sweet Pea has a lot to say. "Northsiders are trouble. Falling for them is stupid, and we don't do stupid," the scowl on his face vanishes within minutes, as soon as he smiles and waves back to the dark haired boy following Cooper to the B&G. "What?"

Sweet Pea, who's torch of hatred he carries for Andrews burns so bright it could blind the sky, fell in love with his enemies' younger brother.

SP HAS NO IDEA WHAT TO DO, he envisioned a mini Archie; A spoiled, rotten little north side brat who acts like he owns the room. So he rehearsed, prepared himself to hear Andrews' voice from a different mouth when they first got paired up for a project.

But Jug is nothing like his big brother, from the dark of that fluffy, bouncy bed hair to his lithe stature, the elegant bed of his neck when he wanted to look Sweet Pea in the eye. He didn't have hazel eyes hiding hell in them, or a shark grin that raised hair from everywhere on the body.

No, - the boy is all small but scrappy, soft, dainty, if he dared used that word. He's got bright Bambi eyes, layered with a faint blue that steals the air from SP's lungs, and if given the opportunity, he won't ever shut up about those precious bunny teeth.

The fact that he has to keep the boy in the dark about Archie's cruelties cracks his heart. He doesn't know why. It just does. Maybe its because he understands hero worship. Maybe he's not ready for the other option.

Fangs and Moose, thought. Fangs and Moose break my heart.

They're young, and they're revounous for eachother, more than food or air. Fangs is hungry for the gentle eyed bulldog who towers over Archie but still bends down to get his hair ruffled, the only one there besides Sweet Pea's boy who doesn't sneer or looks with hatred.

Moose represses; Is what he knows. But the drumming in his chest when Fangs brushes hands with him in the crammed hallways refuses to be silenced, and the dryness in his mouth at every stolen glance and secret late night kisses won't be parched.

Its not enough. This is not the kind of love you can walk away from. So Moose doesn't.

The bulldogs have an exile ritual; Public. Ruthless. Stripping you of power, of humanity, of everything that makes you whole. It's a brutal spectacle, one that everyone must attend.

Cheryl makes sure Jughead doesn't. Sweet Pea makes sure FP does.

Moose, actual sunshine baby, with tears of heartache washing over his face, pushing his letterman jacket into Archie's chest. The redhead is stoned face, but his eyes are large, incredulous. Pleading, almost.

"You're either going to kill someone, or kill yourself, Arch. I don't want to be there to see it."

Archie's hand travels from its desperate grip on his friend's, - one of his BEST friend's,- wrist to fist Moose's hair. The strength is vulnerable. There's despair behind it.

"This is about the Southside. You're picking them over us," he whispers, pained. "You're picking that southie over me."

The taller between them gulps, teardrops slipping down his raised chin, proud, defiant. "... Yeah."

Archie framing Moose's face between his hands, steeling himself against the gentle pain in Moose's eyes, exploding at the violent tenderness in his captain's hold. "Your name will dissappear. Your worth will dissappear. And I want you to remember that I gave you a chance to walk away. You're dead at 10 pm."

Moose knows; He knows pain, and fear, and Fangs is worth all of them. That's the mantra echoing, when he arrows through the sea of students, all of them gazing downward.

GOD- ARCHIE. ARCHIE SLOWLY STAUNTERING IN MOOSE'S DIRECTION. LIKE IN THAT BULLDOGS VS SERPENTS FIGHT. "Come back," he's whispering. Hes begging, a quiet plea, a silent curse. "I'll forget about this. Come back to us. Please."

Moose's eyes find Fang's. Even drowned in sorrow, even cracked with raw pain, they're beautiful. His lips mouth 'I love you.'

"Do what you came here to do. It won't change my heart. Or my mind."

holy shit when Archie looks over at a SHATTERED Fangs, held back by Sweet Pea and Toni, his stomach coil in such a dark hatred, such a poisonous anger- he pours it all in the punch to Moose's jaw.

"You're gonna cry, hmm?" Archie growls, animalistic, more hell then boy, dishing thundering slaps to Moose in between his hisses."You gonna cry Moose, huh? Cry a bit. Cry for your fucking snake friend and his southie family."

FP BEING THERE- WATCHING HIS SON, HIS OLDSEST, THE SON HE LOVES SO MUCH, DO... THAT. AS a father, he's destroyed.

As a leader, he just. Watches Fangs, pure, good, strong, RIGHT Fangs, cling to Sweet Pea, fingers hooked so tightly into his best friends' jacket they pale. He yells ' they're killing him, sweet pea let me GO they're killing him, stop, STOP-' and FP realizes. On some degree, a bitter one, Tall Boy's words rang true.

At some point, they will have to hit back.

At the end of the ritual, Archie grips Moose's hair, fingers digging into his loose jaw. His friend is limp in his hands, probably unconscious, probably passed out.

He holds this maimed version of Moose, more corpse than boy, towards Fangs. He's so hateful. He knows, because Sweet Pea's disdain stares right back. " LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO! YOU DID THIS," he laughs, a sad, hollow sound, bordering on manic. Half madness, half sob. "YOU DID THIS. NOT ME! NOT ANY OF US. YOU."

"THIS," He whips around, Moose swining in sort, making majority of them cringe in disgust, in unsettlment. They're terrified. Good. " IS WHAT THEY DO! THIS IS WHAT YOU'LL BECOME, IF YOU MIX WITH THEM!"

At the very end, Moose drops, but he's strong. He's so strong. He stays on his knees for it, not down. His face is drenched in blood and brushes and cuts, and he won't stand down.

Someone hesitantly hands the redhead a baseball bat, which he grabs, eager to end this, eager to leave. Archie hates the whole world.

"You can live up here with us," he can't tell if the wetness sliding down his cheek is rain or tears. Can't distinguish the wail of pain from Fangr or Reggie, as the bat leaves a punishing kiss on Moose's right cheek, putting him down for good. "Or die down there, like them."

In conclusion, I'm crying.

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