#watching Peter shoulder that legacy

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice - epilogue

[continued from Part 23]

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Ice clinked against the stainless steel of her coffee tumbler like hollow wind chimes. She brought the pastel pink container to her lips, taking a careful sip. She’d already spilled some of it in her lap, and now brown spots dotted the yellow of her dress. Carefully, she set the tumbler down beside her, taking a moment to glance up at the scenery around her.

It was a golden-yellow summer day with a cloudless sky, save for the smog hanging over the city. Despite last week’s heat wave, the temperature was more moderate today, giving New York a much-needed break. From a bench in Central Park, she sat beneath the canopy of towering oak trees. A breeze rolled through that chilled her skin delightfully, aided by the icy beverage in her cup.

Nearby, a flock of pigeons scavenged for crumbs. On this particular Saturday, construction sounds were minor, reduced to distant echoes. The bright sounds of a street musician’s violin floated on the wind from nearby in the park. She heard a whistle from a group of children in the distance as they practiced soccer kicks. 

Soccer would be good for Bella, she thought. The seven-year-old girl had tons of energy and legs that were longer than she knew what to do with. Ever since the Olympics and watching Space Jam: A New Legacy, Bella had been obsessed with becoming the next WNBA champion. She described LeBron’s performance as a masterpiece. 

Her aunt knew better than to let her personal opinion spoil the girl’s fun.

That had been a good day. Today was a good day. She mused to herself as she took a breath. She was aware of the fact that the day wasn’t technically over. And perhaps there wasn’t anything particularly different from yesterday. But as her muscles relaxed beneath warm rays of sun on her shoulders, she found peace.

“Mind if I sit here?” a kind voice said from behind her. The muscles in her neck pulled taut. Her heart seized up and tripped over itself.

She glanced over her shoulder to find a pair of doe eyes fixed on her. Cherry lips twisted into a lopsided smile. 

Impossibly, Peter Parker looked younger than the last time she saw him. The only sign of age in his creamy smooth skin were tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, and a faint pink scar blending with the wrinkles above his brow.

Without the beard, he looked criminally soft. Big, bright amber eyes were fixated on her in a way that made her heart want to burst. She felt like she was floating in space and plummeting through the atmosphere. 

At the same time, the primal part of her brain screamed out shrill sirens. Just the sight of him and his soulful eyes felt like she was tearing off a broken limb. Watching as his teeth pinched his pouty lip gave her the sensation of ripping apart nerve endings. Her stomach soured as her heart ached. 

Beneath the heart, lava boiled in her belly. Her eyes were open wide, they could even be mistaken for shock. It wasn’t shock, however, but sheer rage burned in her eyes. 

Peter Parker, the persistent paradox. 

The only man that could stir every emotion in her, like the sun conjures every color of the rainbow out of drops of rain. He painted her world in vivid colors, and yet she was colorblind to everything but the golden hue of his eyes.

Peter Parker, who could make her feel stronger and weaker all at once.

She burned for him, in every sense of the phrase.

And at the present, he was holding his breath, waiting for her reply. She gazed up at him as emotions warred within her. He waited patiently, ready to accept whatever fate she thought he deserved.

She pursed both her lips tight, eyes narrowing. “I’ll allow it,” she said. 

His lungs came to life once again, as if he’d been spared the guillotine. Gently, Peter rounded the park bench and sat down in the spot to her right. She kept her nose forward, eyes focused on anything but him.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked gently, gazing down at the pamphlet in her lap.

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment. “A brochure.”

He observed the glossy tri-fold sheet with a nod. “I see that.” Instantly, he recognized the pictures and logo on the pamphlet, recalling how he once read the same words. “ESU, huh?” he noted with a half smirk, observing the ivory towers of the campus nestled in Midtown Manhattan. “Thinkin’ about classes?” He bit his lip anxiously. “What d’you wanna study?”

She held still, remaining silent as she stared down at the brochure. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and it felt like razors being shoved into his eye sockets. 

“Dunno,” she answered with a gentle shrug. “Interior Design, maybe.” She cleared her throat and spoke with a little more volume. “Thinkin’ about applying for a grant for this fall.”

A smile warmed his eyes, though melancholy weighed down the corners of his lips. “What’s in the cup?” he asked, pointing his nose towards her coffee tumbler.

Lashes fluttered, she followed the end of his fingertip down to her beverage, almost having forgotten that it was there. “Oh,” she said meekly. “It’s a Mauna Kea.”

Peter quirked up a brow. “A what-ya-saya?”

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from curving. “Mauna Kea,” she repeated slowly, enunciating the syllables. “Means ‘White Mountain’ in Hawaiian.” She hesitated for a moment, licking her dry lips. “It’s the name of the tallest mountain on Earth,” she declared, mustering confidence, “from peak to summit.”

A crease formed in Peter’s brow. “I thought Everest was the tallest mountain?”

“Tallest by altitude,” she divulged with pride. “Mauna Kea is bigger.” She flicked her eyes over to his and was immediately captured by his soulful gaze.

“No joke?” he replied with a thousand-watt smile and rosy cheeks. 

“Yup,” he answered, as butterflies filled her belly.

He gazed at her as if he were witnessing the sunrise for the first time. “So, you’re drinkin’ a ‘White Mountain?’”

Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s a cold brew. Blended with honey, macadamia milk and ice, topped with coconut milk foam.” She intended to look down at her cup. Or at the pedestrians. Or the trees. Or the sun. She intended to look anywhere but at him. She really tried. “I made it myself,” she said, feeling heat crawl up her neck.

His eyes glowed, further enamored by her mere existence. “Wow. All this time, all I’ve been drinking is black coffee.” A smile glinted in his expression while his blush gave him away. “Just black coffee. Bitter. With extra sadness.”

She fought the smile her lips formed. “That’s a shame.”

“It is. People tell me I should take more risks, though. Go out on a limb.” His eyes wandered across the park before shifting back over to her. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and in his eyes she could spot his trepidation. If he looked young to her before, now he looked like a blushing boy asking his crush to prom. He gazed at her with the same terror, his heart in his throat and on his sleeve. “What’s your name?”

A fire burned bittersweetly in her heart as tears burned behind her eyes. She gazed at him, feeling her emotions swell. “Mari,” she answered, truthfully. She studied the bourbon and topaz facets of his irises and the lovely curve of his cupid’s bow. “But all my friends call me ‘Honey.’” 

Peter’s lip trembled at that, eyes glistening despite his attempt to control it. “Honey,” he repeated with a murmur, as if chanting a prayer, or a protection spell. As if it was the answer to everything in the universe. In his universe, at least. “It suits you.”

A bittersweet smile warmed his features as he gazed at her, lost in the universe and freefalling towards her singularity. Her eyes went glossy as she mapped the pores, freckles, and scars on his face like the constellations in the sky.

“I missed you,” he said, endearingly.

Her heart throbbed at the pain in his voice. “I know.” She licked her lips, sadness filling her expression. “You hurt me,” she said somberly.

With misty, red eyes, he whispered back, “I know.” He swallowed hard, tears swimming in his gaze. “I’m sorry for that. M’sorry for a lot of things. But I don’t regret a single moment.” 

Eyes glistening, a warm smile overtook her features, lighting up her gaze. She nodded in silent reply.

The sight of it made him want to die of joy. “If it doesn’t sound too forward,” he began gently, speaking with measured formality, “I was gonna ask you to come home with me.”

Home, he said. The significance of the word wasn’t lost on her. A tear rolled down her cheek, sliding along the curve of her grin. “Already?” she breathed out a laugh. “Geez. That was fast.”

His smile faded; he melted into enraptured awe. “No,” he whispered, eyes glowing with admiration. He leaned forward, breaking the invisible barriers between them. Her eyes fluttered shut as his calloused fingers brushed over her jaw, triggering a shiver down her spine. “I’ve waited years for you, remember?” he quietly rumbled. “I’ll keep waiting. For the rest of my life, if I have to.”

The sweetness of it all made her dizzy. It made her feel like her heart had spilled open and she would bleed out on the grass. “I’ll take it,” she sniffed, as Peter thumbed the tears from her cheeks.

“Take what?”

“The rest of your life.” 

He melted in her gaze, staring down at her lips. “Sweet girl. You are my life.”

Without hesitation, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. The sensation made her heart flutter, her mind soar, and her brain sizzle. It made her wounds heal and her soul sing. It made life worth living. It made hope real.

When they parted from the kiss, they were breathless and dizzy, hearts thrumming together in sync.

The honey hues of his chestnut eyes were fixed on hers. “So,” he said, thoughtfully. “Mauna Kea. Ever see it up close?”

She smirked. “Nope. Never been to Hawai’i.”

“Me neither,” Peter shrugged, his eyes alight with life. “Wanna change that?” 

End of Volume 1

A Note From Your Storyteller:

Whew. That was long.

I can't believe this has come to an end. Before I began writing, I was skeptical about this story, but honestly I could've never anticipated or expected the overwhelming support and love that I've gotten. People have made art from my art. They have showered me with gifts for my gift. If you'd say any gift is an expression of love, then gifted art is the ultimate expression of devotion. I love that you care about my characters, and about me!

What's next?

Good question. I've been at odds with this answer, and now it feels like I really need to commit to a path. My imagination is full of many more places that Honey and Peter can go. I could probably write 2-3 novels about these two with all of the effort I put into making these characters come to life. Realistically, I'm a mom with a baby, and I'm about to be a one-person band for the next few months. I'm excited to share these stories, but I'm not sure when or how, or even what that will look like.

The best thing you can do to interact with me is to keep your eyes on my updates from my Ko-fi page! I'm hoping to allow that to become a place where the S&V 'fandom' (wtf that sounds so weird what happened what is this life I am not worthy) can gather and where I can share updates.

In addition to S&V-related news, I'm going to post writing tips, best storytelling practices, AMAs, my favorite fics of the week, answer questions, and maybe even offer commissions. Keep in mind, none of this will be gatekeeped (gate-kept?) or behind a paywall. Even if you're not a regular... er, um, patron?... (barista?) on Ko-fi, you can still hopefully find some interesting stuff to check out.

But even if you don't do any of that, because... who cares, right? I do want you to do one thing for me. One tiny thing that will make the world better. One small thing that could end up changing someone's life.

The next fanfic you read, if you feel any emotions about it at all, please hit "reblog."

You don't have to write a long review, or leave a comment, or add any tags to it. You don't have to do anything more than click the reblog button. But please reblog. When you reblog, you get to share the gift fanfic writers make with someone else, regardless of whether you know them. And subconsciously, you tell the writer 'yes, I see you, and I think other people should, too,' and that small thing can save someone's life one day.

Forget engagement, forget likes vs comments vs reblogs vs community labels vs filtering settings—

Stories are gifts. They are expressions of love put to words. They are emotions lived, repackaged, wrapped in a bow, and then shared with others, along with a kind little note that says 'here's this moment of my heart, I hope it moves you the way it moved me.'

Reblog. And fill the world with a little more love.

#Lizzy writes. #Lizzy writes! sugar and vice #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker au #peter parker angst #dark peter parker #mob peter parker #Mafia peter parker #Mob spiderman #peter parker x oc #mafia au #mob au #spidermafia #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x oc #andrew garfield au #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker andrew garfield #andrew garfield #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #Amazing spider man #spider man au #tasm au #tasm spiderman

[winniethewife]

Jewels made of stardust 

(Poe Dameron x OC! Rhoswen Jewelace.)

Holiday special: And why can't we just hold on?

A/N: An Extra Update for the Holidays! Takes place in the same universe but out of the story order.

Words:  889

It was Life day, and Roshwen had forgotten. She had her hands full with everything that was happening, the forming of a new form of Galactic government, All of their friends scattered to the edges of the galaxy, it had just slipped her mind. Well that’s what she was probably subconsciously telling herself. But her Husband Poe Dameron who was watching as she busied herself with a hundred things on a day when nothing would be open, and no one would be replying to her messages, He knew exactly why she had forgotten. Her family was gone. It was just the two of them. He knew “forgetting” about life day was just a way to cope with the absence of her parents, uncle and brother, maybe if she had friends and found family around her she would be more likely to have remembered but with everyone busy these days, she had no reason to remember, no reason to feel the joy of the holiday. Except for him. He walks over to her from behind and slides his hands around her waist.

“Hey.” He murmurs into her neck as she stood at the window of their home on Yavin 4. “what are you thinking about?”

“Hm…Oh nothing really. Just…I feel like something is missing here. I’m forgetting something.” She says softly as her emerald eyes scan the horizon. She leans into his embrace.

“Are you? I can’t think of anything” Poe says, No point in antagonizing her with the forgotten holiday.

“I guess not.” She chuckles and rests her head back on his chest. “Do you ever wonder, when will the good times run out? When will the Galaxy find itself at odds again?”

“Do they have to end? I was just starting to get used to a little peace and quiet around here.” He runs his fingers through her long hair as he holds her close.

“You know how it is Poe, its only a matter of time before something happens, another group of dissatisfied Imperial or first order remnants show up to ruin everyones day.” Roshwen sighs. “but you know this time…this time we wouldn’t be holding up someone elses legacy, we’d be defending our own.” She doesn’t even have to say the other part, the part where there are no Rebel hero’s from the time before to show them the way. It would just be them, and everything they had learned the time before. Poe rests his head on her shoulder and lets out a sigh of his own.

“Why don’t we just, hold on, to this, to now? Let’s not worry about that, just keep the good of today to last throughout the rest of our lives.” He suggests, ever the optimist. Roshwen smiles and reaches her hand up to caress his face.

“I like the Idea of that. Just…” her voice trails off as she closes her eyes. Her stomach does a flip and she feels nauseous, leaning back on Poe to keep balance. “Woah. Not that again.”

“You alright Red?” He asked holding her closer. “You coming down with something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know I’ve just been feeling kinda off lately, probably just stress. I missed a cycle too.”

“You what?” Poe felt his heart skip a beat as she said that. Roshwen had been so busy she hadn’t even taken a second to realize the implications.

“I…I missed my Cycle.” She says more slowly this time, turning to look at him.

“Maker…Ro…Do you think?” He holds her shoulders as his dark doe eyes meet hers.

“I…I have no idea! I can’t…I haven’t…Oh…Poe…” Rhoswen felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. This…this was something else.

“Maker…I…this would make a difference. A baby, Roshwen!” Poe laughs and lifts her, spinning around before kissing her softly, gently placing her back on her feet as he kisses her. She pulls away after a moment.

“Wait…we don’t know for sure…we should…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence before he’s kissing her again.

Poe mangaged to get a pregnancy test despite the holiday by finding the local general store owner who he had known as a child, and begging him to keep it a secret. Rhoswen took a second to breathe before using the small device to prick her finger, then they both watched as the small device measured the HGC in her blood. It only took a moment for the test to flash a green light. Positive… they both look at each other.

“It’s…” Poe could barely speak

“Yes…My love…it is.” She smiles at him. He pulls her into a tight embrace.

“This has to be the best Life day in all my life!” Poe says softly

“Wait! Its life day? And you didn’t even tell me??” Roshwen Laughs taking a step away from him to look at him with a smirk on her face.

“Uh…It slipped my mind?” He tried to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Uh-huh. Right.” She rolls her eyes and Shakes her head at him as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. She stands on tip toe to kiss his cheek. “Happy life day Poe.”

“Happy Life Day Red.” He says before pulling her in for another kiss, his hand gently grazing her abdomen.

A time to be joyful when all is calm and all is bright.

~

Masterlist

@femmeanonymelives

#star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x oc #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequel trilogy #oc #Rhoswen Jewelace #Rhoswen #solo oc #oscar isaac fic #Spotify #poevember #life day #starwars #pregnancy #merry christmas #happy holidays #fluff

[cicimunson]

His Bard and Her Rogue

Request: For the request I was maybe thinking something like Eddie x plus size reader, and the reader would be one of the theatre/choir kids? and she goes and auditions for the lead in the school musical/play and the student who is directing it is a dick and says she couldn’t be the lead cuz she is plus size and so Eddie finds out and and gives the director what for?  ^-^

This was so much fun to write and thank you for all your advice while it was getting done!

Characters: Eddie Munson, Female Reader, random OC

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Violence, Reader is upset

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?”

You step back, wiping tears from your face. “Sorry, Eddie. Didn’t mean to run into you.”

“It’s cool, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You lower your head and don’t meet his eyes.

Eddie cups your chin gently and tilts your face up. “Hey. You’re clearly upset. Talk to me.”

“It’s so embarrassing.” You sniffle.

“You know every embarrassing story of mine. One of the perks of being friends since kindergarten.” He winks down at you.

“I can’t help it if you do a lot of dumb stuff.” You reply.

He laughs, still gently cupping your chin.

“I’m just saying, surely you can spare one embarrassing story.”

Maybe I’ll feel better if I just talk to someone about it.

He stares down at you, waiting.

“I confronted Peter and asked why I wasn’t given a role in the school play. I know I wasn’t the best singer but I thought I would at least get ensemble or something.”

Eddie looks surprised. “He didn’t cast you?”

“No.”

“That makes no sense. I’ve heard you practicing nonstop the past two weeks. You’re good. Annoying when you’re singing over my music, but good. I can’t believe he didn’t cast you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

“What did he say when you confronted him?”

You lower your head again and mumble a response.

“Y/N, speak up.”

Damn it. He’s going to be mad.

“He said I’m too fat to be in the play.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “What?”

You sigh. “He said he has a vision for the play and wants everyone to be thin and athletic. I don’t fit into either of those boxes.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. And he said it in front of everyone. I’m so embarrassed, Eddie. I have to quit theater now. I can’t face everyone after that.”

“Come with me.” He takes your hand and tugs you toward the auditorium.

“No, Eddie, please, I can’t go back in there.”

“Fine. Wait here.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He doesn’t reply as he yanks the door open and stomps inside.

You stand outside the door, listening for any noise. You hear Eddie shouting something you can’t quite make out, and other people yelling.

Oh God, what is he doing?

There’s a loud bang and you gasp.

Shit, I gotta get in there.

You fling open the door and hurry down the aisle to the stage.

Eddie has Peter, the director, by the shirt up against the wall, pointing a finger in his face.

“And if you can’t see how talented she is, you’re an idiot! You’re lucky she even auditioned for your stupid play!”

“Oh my God, Eddie, let him go!” You rush up on stage. Everyone is standing around looking shocked, but no one is helping. They’re all scared of Eddie.

Eddie whirls around and shoves Peter toward you.

“Apologize to her. Now.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter replies instantly, looking horrified. “I should have cast you. You have a great voice.”

“Tell her she’s stunning and you’d be grateful to have her in your play.”

“You are! You’re stunning. I’d love for you to be in my play.” Peter stammers.

Eddie yanks him back and gets in his face once more. “Good boy. Now if you ever, ever, upset her or talk about her weight again, I’m going to come back here and beat you into the wall. Your legacy at Hawkins will be to be a giant greasy smear on the brick, you hear me?”

“Yes. Yes.” Peter squeaks.

Eddie shoves him away. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

He throws an arm over your shoulders as he leads you from the stage. Everyone is watching the two of you.

“Eddie, have you lost your mind?”

He doesn’t reply as leads you outside to his van.

“Eddie, what were you thinking? You’re lucky there were no teachers in there, you could have gotten into so much trouble.”

“I don’t care. Nobody talks to my girl like that, ever. He’s lucky I didn’t throw him off that stage and stomp on him.”

“Your…your girl?”

“Hmm?” He stares down at you, looking confused.

“You called me your girl.”

He goes red. “Oh, well, I meant like, my friend. You know, my friend, who’s a girl. My girl.”

“You could have gotten expelled, Eddie.”

“I told you, I don’t care. Nobody is going to make you feel bad and get away with it.”

“It was sweet of you. It really was. But doesn’t make what he said any less true.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh. “Come on, Eddie. He was right. I don’t fit in with the other theater girls. They’re skinny and pretty and I'm…I mean, look at me. I’m huge.”

He shakes his head. “Stop that. You’re perfect.”

“I’m not. I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“Well, you are to me. I meant what I told Peter. You’re stunning.”

You blush. “You meant that?”

He nods and smiles. “Of course. I’ve always thought so.”

“You’ve never said that before.”

“I know.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned it?”

He sighs. “Because we’re such good friends. I didn’t want to mess it up by telling you that I’m crushing on you.”

Eddie Munson is crushing on me. Did I just hear him right?

You reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear. He tugs your hand away. “Hey, no touching the ‘do.” But he smiles and pecks your fingers.

“I like you too, Eddie. I have for a while now.”

His eyes widen. “You do?”

“Of course. You’ve always been so good to me. You’re sweet. You’re handsome. You have such a good heart.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and you giggle. “You think I’m handsome, hmm?”

“Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

He leans down and kisses you. You hesitate for a second, then grips his shoulders gently, kissing him back.

He moans low in his throat and his arms wrap around you.

“We should have done this years ago.” He mumbles as he breaks the kiss. “I’m stupid for waiting this long.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You tease and he grins.

“Looking forward to it.’

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ff #eddie munson x reader #plus size reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fluff

[keenerkey]

RIRI AND HARLEY PLEASE GODD

And also celestial trio 👀👀👀👀

OOOO okay. (Hi Sarah !!) I have been so busy so I haven't been able to write much but I got back on my Riri and Harley fic and cleaned what I did have up at little just for this <3. It gave me a boost of creative energy so hopefully I'll have some free time soon cause I'm in love with this one again.

ANYWAY, context. It's a one-shot of a larger series called "The Marvelous Misadventures of the Young Avengers" that I have started planning out. It is completely canon-compliant BUT it does take place in 2029 so I have room to say some things are different from how they last left off in canon. I LOVE Riri and Harley's friendship and it's definitely a teasing, fun friendship where they both can clock each other's moods very quickly. Riri is also the first friend Harley made up in New York/Massachusetts! They shoulder Tony's legacy together. The Iron Legacies <3 <3 <3

Here is a little snip of it:

He missed Tony. If Tony was here he could give Harley some tips and he wouldn’t be failing miserably at taking on Tony’s mantle. He wouldn’t be disappointing the old man. Iron Mechanic was a joke. The Iron Legacy was a joke. He was a fucking joke.  “You know the goal is to not follow Icarus’s example.” A familiar voice rang out behind him. Harley sighed.  “Really? I thought the point was to live life fast and recklessly.” Harley responded, pulling himself together as best he could before getting up and turning around to face her. She stood behind him, her pink and yellow helmet in her arms, black hair braided back and sweat covering her skin.   “You’re lucky Peter had a big test to study for tonight and asked me to patrol for him. You would have been calming him down from a panic attack if he had been here.”  “Yeah, ‘cause I almost just killed a bunch of people and destroyed a building. I’m surprised you aren’t yelling at me.”  Riri eyed Harley for a second, like she was deciding whether or not to say something. “Sure, but it’s different with you. He doesn’t like when you get hurt.”  Harley eyebrows scrunched up and his heart thumped a little faster in his chest. It always did that when Peter was around. Or mentioned. “He’s protective of everyone. It’s his nature.”   Riri sighed, before walking over and sitting on the ledge of the building. Harley stood, staring at her. He didn’t fully understand why he was so nervous around Peter, but he suspected jealousy might have something to do with it. Envy. All his time with Tony, his talent, his ability to never fail like Harley just did-  Riri looked back at him, her eyebrows raised in expectation. “Get your ass over here and sit with me.”  Harley snapped out of his thoughts and walked over to sit beside her. They sat there for a minute, watching the skyline. 

annddd as for the Celestial Trio, which is a very vague name cause I don't have a title, I'll just tell you the basic idea run down: (I'm still bad at explaining it, exactly, so stick with me. I don't have a description figured out yet since it's still new )

Alright, so, years ago this group of heroes banded together as it was foretold by prophets and oracles and written in the threads of fate. They were destined to defeat the desperate and violent grab for power by the mad king of Hilacha. Except- they fail. Utterly. The leader, Kaius, escapes and hides himself away in shame. Years later, When her adoptive dad falls ill, Tera reluctantly followers her sister, Solara, out of the city to find a cure. They get wrapped up in a plot long planned by Theo, the mysterious guy who just so happens to be living with the disgraced hero Kaius, to get the band back together and right the wrong that happened years ago while unraveling what exactly caused them to fail in the first place.

(so basically, it's mystery, a little politics, betrayal, friendship, redemption, and the whole Celestial trio ties into world building, their deities, and the main three (Solara, Astera, and Theodore Aylin, all have names in reference to a celestial-type deity.)

#I hope any of that makes sense #It's very late right now #anyway yes #Riri and Harley are my roman empire #harley keener #fanfic #Key writes #og post

[cochart]

The hair thing

I ran into a post where people were arguing about elves’ hair in that Amazon series. The loudest cry was “Omg!!! It’s just hair! The world isn’t going to end! So what if they have short hair you traditionalists!!”

The fact is, Arda is going to end if Elrond, descendent of Finwe, the Hair Guy, has a short hair.  . . I’m joking.

Long words short, I think hair styling is a creative decision that can go wherever. While Peter Jackson Trilogy and Alan Lee’s art normalized long hair for all elves, you can find that older fan depictions show various styles. In fact, quite a majority of paintings show elven men with shoulder length or above-shoulder hair, much like men from medieval European manuscripts. 

What I--and a lot my friends--have issue with is that the new series, instead of making purposeful creative decisions, seems to be merely reinforcing the rigid stereotypes: men have short hair and women have long hair. If elven men were to have short hair, I’d want to see at least few women to have short hair as well. After all, it is a fantasy show. What would be so wrong about some women characters rocking shorter hair? Unfortunately, as if to complement elven men in short hair, almost all women characters--minus Galadriel in that armor with a strangely Feanorian style star--that had been announced seem to be traditionally feminine with long hair and dresses. 

With all above considered, the short haired elven men thing feels more like “back to tradition” than some groundbreaking creative decision. To constantly hear people yammer about “OMG you mean traditionalists!” is not only annoying, but incorrect. People who want to see long hair aren’t saying that--at least not all of them--they want long hair because tradition. Like I said, long haired elves weren’t as overwhelmingly popular and normalized before the movies. We just want hair stylings that’s more than “men=short hair, women=long hair.” 

Despite having the 60s, most of western world still seems to be uncomfortable with the idea of long-haired men for some reason. Beau Brummel’s legacy lives hard. It’s 2022 and we deserve to see some killer designs and stylings, at least in fantasy shows and movies. Since when did “fantasy” become a shorthand for “something vaguely medieval ish with dragons and dark brown gritty filter over”? At least Amazon seems not to have gone with that dark brown filter. Fantasy films should be more like Bram Stoker’s Dracula where sometimes you aren’t sure if you’re watching some haute couture show or a film based on a classic gothic horror.

*In case you didn’t catch on to the tone, I’m being pretty light-hearted here. So do refrain from leaving me a 2500 word essay on why you like this creative decision and why you prefer minimalist costume designs as opposed to flamboyant, maximalist ones. To make myself clear once again, though I vastly prefer long hair on the elves, I also enjoy giving them short hair. It was just weird how many people, especially men, responded to others wishing that Amazon dudes gave elven men long hair.

#tolkien

[sarahlizziewrites]

OCkiss Day 1 - Dance

This is set before the events of Chrissie's of London. <3 my boys <3 Enjoy!

cw: mentions of war

#ockiss23 Day 1 - Dance - 1,213 words

Nobody warns you what it will feel like when a war ends. Not least of all when you expected to take your last breath in those trenches. 

Our unit is in Paris, many miles away from the front lines, but we still all feel the shiver of freedom when Armistice is declared. Freedom, and a little sorrow. What do we do now? Back to university? Back to our families who will hardly recognise us under the scars and grime of war?

The questions remain unanswered, because Lance Corporal Milton has found cases of champagne from…somewhere, and in a manner quite unlike that of the last few years, throws caution to the four winds and declares the barracks a party.

I’ve always said he needed to let his hair down a little. 

Let his hair down he does, as well as consume a share of champagne enough for four men. Someone produces a record player, and the barracks turns into a proper tea dance. There are no girls here to dance with, so we make our own fun. Boys who stood shoulder to shoulder together in the trenches for years now dance cheek to cheek, great grins on their faces.

Jacques is jubilant. He is dashing about, collar open, spoken English fumbling at best (French at worst). At the start of the war, the charming continental bastard convinced someone to let him serve in our unit, rather than with the Frogs. His accent may be thick, but the boy is for Blighty. Though he would have looked dashing in blue.

He is singing la Mayonnaise over the sound of the record, champagne bottle in one hand. His dark brown eyes brim over with the kind of unbridled joy that I only saw brief sparks of during the war, fewer and farther between as the years wrenched on. I watch in fond amusement as he chases his own tail around the room, grabbing each young man in our unit and kissing them theatrically on the cheek with a large smacking sound.

Jacques then begins dancing with Private Peters, a sloppy waltz where neither can decide who is leading, tripping over each others’ feet. He hasn’t come my way yet - we’ve been friends for donkey’s years, he’s shared secrets with me that few others know, and yet, he’s been avoiding me. I find myself a tad envious, perhaps, of the boys who have had his strong, tanned arms around them tonight; of those he’s granted one of his comedic kisses. 

Better not think of his lips. Better not think of when they were on mine, desperate in the pitch-darkness while shells howled above us. Can’t help but think that’s why he’s been a little distant with me these few months since. 

The party presses on, and some time after dark, he finally finds me, bottle of champagne in hand. He sidles up alongside me, swaying a little, giving me his old puppy dog eyes to appeal to me to take a swig from the bottle. I can’t say no to him.

“Why the long face, Silas?” He bumps a shoulder against mine, taking the bottle back. “You’ve barely danced all night. Aren’t you happy? The war is over, cher. We’re free.”

Free to do what, I wonder? Go back to London, inherit a hotel? Marry a nice girl, produce an heir? In a way, being at war had been a sort of freedom. Freedom to just be a soldier, and not Silas Chrissie, heir to that towering hotel and a legacy I’m not even sure I want, my surname gleaming in huge letters above the Thames. 

“Sorry, old chap.” I look up at his face, those puppy dog eyes full of concern, and I can’t hide a smile. “Forgive me; my heart’s just not in it.”

He abandons the bottle then, setting it aside to come stand before me. “A dance, then. That’ll cheer you up.” His russet hair is untidy, falling across his eyes, and his toothy smile is a little lopsided. 

I’m powerless not to take the hand that’s offered, and he pulls me to stand. Just as we begin to dance together - those warm arms wrapping around me, one palm in mine - the song changes. It’s a slow, crooning, end-of-the-night song for sweethearts to slow dance to. I hesitate, waiting to see what he will do, but neither of us let go. 

For all the distance he has put between us of late, he pulls me minutely closer now, slotting our bodies together, like we really are sweethearts. I can feel his breath on my ear and it makes my heart flutter like a hummingbird. I can see some of the other lads dancing in a similar way, no doubt thinking of the girls back home they’ll be returning to soon. I can’t think of anyone but Jacques.

We sway together, silently. We turn; his hand squeezes mine. I struggle to even breathe, not wanting to disrupt this rare, champagne-scented peace. I had hardly realised that it has taken months of its absence for me to ache for Jacques’ easy touch, his habit of greeting me with cheek kisses in that friendly, Francophone way. I feel like a fool. A fool for what happened that night, and a fool for letting that distance fall between us. I long desperately, most of all, for his friendship again.

“If I get a kiss from a Frog, will I turn into a prince?” I hardly think before I speak; it just comes out. He laughs at it though, a soft huff of a chuckle into my ear. More internal acrobatics. My eyes flutter closed, allowing the music and Jacques to guide my feet. 

“You’re already a prince, mon ami,” he says, under his breath, just for me. It’s a jab - he’s always called me a spoiled brat, and it’s an assessment I’ll happily take - but it’s a playful one. Another thing I didn’t know I’d be missing. “What do you get if you get a kiss from a dog?”

It’s my turn to laugh. Jacques accidentally revealed his shapeshifting abilities to me in our first year as roommates at Keble, and made me swear not to tell another soul. Though he’s so dog-like in so many of his mannerisms, it’s a wonder nobody else has figured it out yet. 

“Fleas, I expect,” I reply, and I feel the crease of his growing smile against my cheek. If this moment ends, I might just expire. “Seems a fair price.”

It’s a gamble, expecting him to interpret what I’m asking for. I’m not even sure what I’m asking for. Somehow, he guesses it exactly right.

His lips press against my cheek; tender, chapped, chaste. Exactly the opposite of the last time his lips touched me; in the dark, in that trench, desperate, pleading. It’ll keep me up sleepless at night figuring out which I prefer. 

But now, the feeling of his lips lingers, his arm is around me, holding me close, and his breath caresses my ear for as long as this song lasts. Once it is over, we remain in our embrace for a little longer than is proper, but when we split apart, I know, somehow, that he’ll never leave me for long again. 

#a man lives rent free in my head and he is called silas chrissie #ockiss23 #fantasy writing #fantasy romance #writeblr #historical fiction #bad french on purpose #the author has no working knowledge of the military #I know about jazz and cheek kisses #that's all #cw: mentions of war

[spinderella-umbrella]

Once upon a time, in an alternate universe, Peter’s idolisation of Sirius’ worst nightmare of a person leads to a very different path for the marauders, from the very start.

A Peter Pettigrew Project Prompt, What if the Marauders had never accepted Peter as a friend?

Peter is so excited to finally be going to Hogwarts. As soon as he gets to platform 9 and ¾, he yanks off his coat, revealing the uniform he was wearing underneath, and the scarf in the colours that represent his newfound hero, Salazar Slytherin.

It had been a lonely summer, and after he got his letter, Peter devoured the Hogwarts history books, learning everything there was to know about the school he was about to go to including long standing legacy families.

So when he saw Sirius Black on the platform, knowing he was starting the same year as him in Peter bounds up to him excitedly.

“Hi! I’m Peter Pettrigrew, I’m starting this year at Hogwarts too!”

Sirius narrows his eyes at Peter, his nose raised, holding himself in a way that could only be described as “haughty”.

He doesn’t even respond to Peter. There are people watching the interaction, as Peter shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t let his smile falter.

He lifts his scarf, Green and Silver, with pride. “I’m hoping to get into Slytherin. Salazar was just so cool.” Peter gushes, and Sirius raises a perfect black brow at him, crossing his arms.

Oh no.

Sirius glances over his shoulder, eyes catching on someone, and he says–

“Potter, if I get placed in Slytherin, please just kill me. It might please my family, but to me, it will be a great embarrassment.”

Sirius turns back to Peter, a smirk on his face.

“Sure, Black.” Potter affirms, and Peter is confused, because their families are supposed to hate each other. How do they even know each other? Didn’t they all just get here? Or maybe he’s really saying he’d be happy to kill Sirius.

Either way, Peter is mortified, his face red with embarrassment. “Oh, okay,” he says quietly, fiddling with his scarf nervously. He feels like a bit of an idiot for even wearing it, now. He isn’t in Slytherin yet, after all.

Someone snorts behind him. “Look at this ickle first year, repping Salazars colours when he’s not even sorted yet.”

His embarrassment well and truly solidified, Peter tugs the scarf from his neck and holds it in his hands, twisting.

Sirius smirks wider, teeth flashing as he catches the movement. “You might be pleased to know, Pettigrew, that the hat has a long history of sorting cowards into Slytherin. If you want something and you believe in something, you stand by your choice, by your beliefs, no matter what other people think.”

Peter swallows, and Sirius sighs. “Well, I’ve hit my quota for public service for today. Come on Potter,” He says, walking towards the train without a glance for Peter, and without looking back to see if James Potter is following him. Because of course he is.

#peter pettigrew project #Sirius black #Peter pettigrew #Drabble #prompt Drabble #marauders #maraudersfanfiction #james potter #slytherin #house rivalries #what if Wednesday

[devoutlywished]

it’s just so tragic watching the raimi trilogy knowing what happens to harry. it’s like. here is this boy who is in so over his head, who has been thrust into this whirlwind of insane events and has no power to stop it, who is just watching as things unfold around him, and all he can do is just be shuffled between other characters: his best friend, his girlfriend, his father more than anyone. he’s just a bystander in his own life, in his own family, his own relationships. and then suddenly his father is gone, and what does he do now? how does he even exist without his father, because all he is is an extension of him? and then all this weight is placed on his shoulders to not only carry on his family legacy, but also to find out who killed his father, and he didn’t ask for any of it. he didn’t want to run oscorp and he didn’t want to kill his best friend. but he has to. because it was decided by someone else– someone else is always making the decisions of his life and he’s just going along with it. and we see it slowly destroy him, especially in sm2, we see him lose everything and fall down this spiral of self-destruction that just keeps pulling him deeper and deeper into the dark, as his whole life continues to crumble around him, and it just hurts to watch, knowing that if something had gone different– if everyone had told him the truth, if he wasn’t locked out of his own life– maybe he could’ve been saved. ultimately the truth of harry osborn’s story is that he was in danger, he was ALWAYS in danger, and no one helped. peter heard him talk about norman’s mistreatment and responded with “he doesn’t seem so bad”. bernard worked in the osborn’s home for years and knew what was happening, knew the truth, and not only did he do nothing to help, he just lied to harry’s face for YEARS. he knew the truth, that norman accidentally killed himself, and he watched harry obsess over who killed his father, watched him descend into hatred and despair, and did nothing, because apparently no one thought that harry deserved to know the truth about his own life. he was failed by his father, by his friends, by all the people around him, because he just wasn’t important enough. he was always the second choice, the less-than, the not-as-good-as. he wasn’t the hero or even the main villain. he was just a side character, both in the narrative and in his life. but there are hints of a real person in there sometimes. hints that at some point he wasn’t a creature built up entirely with parts of his dead father. he liked to paint, he wrote a play in middle school to impress mj (which she apparently found very deep and dramatic), he liked to play basketball even though he was bad at it, he didn’t like spiders (but was willing to pretend he did to earn mj’s approval). and ultimately i think that line about spiders changing their colors to blend in with their surroundings as a defense mechanism really summarizes harry. he is only what other people want him to be, and he changes depending on who he’s with. he changes himself to earn their approval. he immediately drops his conviction that spiders are gross the second mj says she loves them, and then he pulls out that line, which wasn’t even his to begin with. he’s just repeating what peter said because he has nothing else to say, because even at the beginning of the first film, he doesn’t have a voice. he never did.

#having a normal one today #harry osborn #raimiverse #spider-man #sam raimi spider man #spider man trilogy #*

[peterlorrefanpage]

Muwahahahaha, a sinister Halloween to you!

Peter Lorre - Secret Agent (1936). The eyes of that man slay me but good.

This movie is another early Hitchcock, and the second time Lorre worked with him. It's set during WWI, and the plot involves a British captain who, mistakenly presumed dead, agrees to undertake a secret mission to eliminate a German agent heading to Arabia. The erstwhile captain gets a known killer as his assistant, who is called both "the General" and "the Hairless Mexican," though that person is none of these things. On purpose.

So, naturally, that role is played by Peter Lorre.

It's a bizarre film. And it's worth watching just to see Peter Lorre take his General character through amazing combustions, clever intrigues, bawdy humor, and a completely happy immorality when it comes to little things like murder.

I've posted my slo-mo gif before but I cannot resist posting it again:

The way Lorre could telegraph his thoughts without saying a damn word - gahhh.

Have some more scenes and stills:

Dig that coat! The General being all suave and nonchalant here in the chocolate factory, where a rather fantastic scene is about to go down.

Peter Lorre with a profile John Barrymore would envy, with John Gielgud and Madeleine Carroll.

Robert Young has joined us now (seated at the table).

Another touch of slo-mo to catch Lorre's superb forehead at the start and of course the eyes. :)

You'd take a stroll along a mountainside with the General, wouldn't you?

A devastating arch.

Some background, taken from The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre:

"Hitchcock was making this film from Somerset Maugham’s Ashenden stories, based on the author’s own experiences as an agent of the British Intelligence Division of the army in World War I. They chose to develop 'The Hairless Mexican' and considered Lorre ideal for the name part. Maugham’s 'hairless Mexican' is just that, hairless and Mexican. However, in the film he is called that 'chiefly because he’s got a lot of curly hair and isn’t a Mexican.' Lorre was glad he would not have to make the supreme tonsorial sacrifice twice in six months.

"Hitchcock put Lorre’s 'extremely deceptive' screen personality to use. Knowing that humor made his menace more powerful—and ambiguous—the director and his screenwriter Charles Bennett wittingly built on the legacy of sexual pathology in M and The Man Who Knew Too Much."

Review from New Republic’s Otis Ferguson: "He is one of the true characters of the theatre, having mastered loose oddities and disfigurements until the total is a style, childlike, beautiful, unfathomably wicked, always hinting at things it would not be good to know.

"His style is most happily luminous in the intense focus and supple motion of movie cameras, for the keynote of any scene can be made visual through him. In close-ups, it is through the subtle shifts of eyes, scalp, mouth lines, the intricate relations of head to shoulders and shoulders to body. In medium shots of groups, it is through his entire motion as a sort of supreme punctuation mark and underlineation. A harmless statement is thrown off in a low voice, and it is felt like the cut of a razor in Lorre, immediately in motion—the eyes in the head and the head on his shoulders and that breathless caged walk raising a period to double exclamation points. Or the wrong question is asked, and the whole figure freezes, dead stop, and then the eventual flowering of false warmth, the ice within it."

—

For me, the end falls down considerably, and I think the censors had something to do with why the General was served the way he was. Personally, I think it's unrealistic for the character. But yeah: Watch it anyway. 😁

#peter lorre #The General #The Hairless Mexican #Alfred Hitchcock #Secret Agent #1930s movies #peter lorre movies #peter lorre gifs #peter lorre pictures

[losingmymindtonight]

In which Tony learns what it’s like to be the one left behind.

--

Tony was, for once, entirely off-duty.

Or, he was as entire off-duty as a father could be. Which, admittedly, wasn’t really off-duty at all. Either way, it felt like being off-duty, which he decided was pretty much the same thing.

The summer sun was warm on his face. He could hear the lake’s lazy waves lapping up on the shore behind him, the creak of the dock bobbing in the breeze. Clint and Natasha were at the grill, bickering over the proper way to cook a hot dog, and the rest of the team, old and new, were scattered all around the cabin’s grounds.

“No kids, huh?” Steve said, sitting down gingerly in the lawn chair set directly beside his own. It still caught him off guard, every once in a while, seeing Captain America himself so old and fragile. He was getting used to it, though, was getting used to seeing Steve as Steve rather than the idol that Howard had spent a lifetime worshiping.

He spread his arms out, leaning back and taking a deep breath of the grass-tinged air. “I’m a free man, Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes darted off to the right, where Happy, Pepper, May, and Peter were all busy playing with Morgan and Clint’s kids in a makeshift slip-n-slide. “But for how long?”

He grinned. “For as long as some soap and water can keep them occupied, and that’s quite long enough for me. I’ll be missing them desperately in about,” he glanced down at his watch, “twelve minutes.”

“I’m sure Peter will come fuss over you long before then.”

“Oh, I hope not.” He watched the kid’s face, bright and smiling, completely removed from the horrors that plagued their in-between moments, and let the sight cradle joy in his chest. “He deserves to forget about all that for a while.”

“Mm,” Steve hummed. “How’s the arm?”

“Serviceable,” he said, holding up the prosthetic, admiring the way the sun glinted off the gray metal. “Pete’s already got some schematics drawn up for a replacement. Morgan wants to help him decorate it, so I’m sure that’ll be a disaster.”

Steve snorted. “Kids.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, love running through him as he listened to Peter and Morgan’s twin laughter drift over on the breeze. “Kids.”

Of course, that was a very peaceful moment, and peace wasn’t really the kind of thing that lasted around the Stark household. Usually, it was the shattering of a vase or the wailing of a skinned knee that broke it.

This time, however, it was the simultaneous screech of multiple emergency signals. Half of the gathered party scrabbled to silence them, reading through the alert with furrowed brows. Tony reached for his own, then realized, in a delayed reintroduction with reality, that he didn’t have one.

Iron Man was retired. Tony Stark wasn’t a superhero anymore. He was just a man. Which, really, was exactly what he wanted to be, most of the time.

Then his eyes fell on Peter, webshooters folding down over his hands, and he wasn’t so sure.

“C’mon, Spider-geek,” Sam shouted, fastening his shield over his arm, wings already engaged and unfurling in preparation for takeoff. “Your Octopus friend is trying to take over the world again. It’s all hands on deck.”

The Iron Spider suit was already crawling over the kid’s skin. It was quite a sight. Eerily beautiful, if he could forget that the technology had been born of paranoia and war. Tony had never really had the chance to appreciate the dance of the nanites before, had always been inside the suit or watching Peter plummet thousands of feet, limp and unconscious.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter called, flexing his fingers as the nanotech settled over them. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Morgan grabbed his leg, and the mask retracted as he looked down at her.

“Are you gonna go fight the bad guys?” She asked, eyes full of stars.

“Sure am.”

“Ooh,” she whispered, bouncing up and down in excitement, still clinging to the kid’s thigh. “Don’t let them catch you!”

“Don’t worry, M. Bad guys never catch Spider-Man.”

Tony pushed up from his chair, conscious of Steve’s gaze burning into his back. He didn’t know what he was trying to do. Stop Peter from going? No, not that, although that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to. He understood the call to war. Once you stepped into a suit, it was hard to step back out.

Tony had only done so because he’d been dragged, kicking and screaming. Because he was missing an arm, and a good portion of his lung function, and his entire right side was weakened and scarred. He hadn’t had a choice, and maybe that was a good thing. If he’d been given one, he probably would’ve died in the armor.

He was terrified by the very real possibility that that was how Peter would meet his end, too. That there would be nothing powerful enough to overcome the kid’s morals, his call to duty. He would die a hero, and people would call that a triumph, but Tony would still call it dead.

He saw May brush forward, cup Peter’s face, smile at him. There was fear in her silhouette: the same fear he’d seen in Pepper over and over and over again. For the first time, he felt it too. The fear of being the one left behind. The fear of waiting.

The fear of waiting forever.

Peter trotted over to him after he’d said goodbye to May, which left him a little warm and fuzzy inside. Before the kid could open his mouth, Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then pulled back and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him a little as he fought back another wave of helplessness.

“Swing fast,” he whispered, because it was the only thing he could think of, the only words that weren’t too raw to say in front of so many eyes.

Peter smiled, and it occurred to Tony that he looked older, now. Less child, more man. His posture was confident, eyes sparkling. He looked like a hero, like the kind of person that always won in the movies.

He looked like the future Tony had been waiting for.

He’d finally passed the torch. He could see the bearer standing in front of him, and he was proud. 

“Save me some hot dogs,” Peter quipped, winking, ��and don’t let Morgan eat all the cake. I need, like, at least two slices all for myself.”

“You come back safe,” he murmured, “and I’ll give you all the hot dogs and cake you could ever want.”

“Square deal.”

“Parker!” Sam barked, waving him over with a smirk on his face. “The longer you wait, the more likely it is that your old man’s gonna kick it before we get back. As it is, we’re placing team bets on Steve.”

“Very funny, Sam,” Steve drawled.

“I heard you the first time, Cap!” Peter called over his shoulder, then turned back to Tony to grin. “Love you.”

He patted the side of the kid’s face, swallowing to cover up how terrified he was by the prospect of Peter going to fight a battle without him. That had never happened before. They hadn’t faced a world-threatening force since Thanos. Despite logic, Tony had been hoping that the finale really would be the finale. That they could rest now.

“Love you too, kid. Now go on,” he made a shooing motion with his hands, metal prosthetic catching in the light, a permanent reminder of his final act as Iron Man, as a hero, “the world’s waiting for Spider-Man to save the day.”

Soft nostalgia sparked in Peter’s eyes: the remnants of the first day they’d met, when he’d tripped over his words, too starstruck to think straight. “I’ll never be as good at it as you.”

“No,” he agreed, physically spinning the kid and shoving him in Sam’s direction, because he knew that if he didn’t, they’d both linger there forever. “You’ll be better.”

Peter jogged away laughing, shooting a web to the base of the Falcon’s wings to hitch a ride, in the same way that he would’ve done with Tony’s suit, if the world had spun them into a different route that day. Right before they took off, the kid swung to face Morgan and offered her a dramatic solute, letting the mask fold over his face, only a few shades darker than hotrod red. She clapped for him, little voice raised up in a cheer.

Tony sank back down into his chair, sparing Steve a halfhearted glance. They were pieces of history, now. The generation moving aside, content to be left behind.

They’d left the world in better hands, there was no doubt about that. Sometimes, though, Tony really wished that it didn’t have to be the hands of one of his kids.

#i keep thinking about how nice it would've been to like #have a cheesy ass scene at the end of Endgame where the old Avengers watch the new ones go off to fight the Next Big Threat #and bc i'm irondad trash #i obviously wanted to examine that scene through Tony's eyes #watching Peter shoulder that legacy #the pride & the fear #and also just #take a closer look at Tony discovering the feelings of being the one left behind #because he's never been that before #he's always been in the thick of the action #so i wrote this lil thingy #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #tony & peter #tony lives #bc fuck u russos #losingmymindtonight writes

[crazycookiecrumbles]

A Very Stark Christmas

A/N: IT’S A HOLIDAY SPECIAL, BITCHES, AGAIN! And it’s super short bc I’m DROWNING in work.

Okay. So this is in my Stark!ReaderVerse! Feedback, as awlays, extremely appreciated and desired. ​

TAG LIST: I do not.

Pairings/Characters: Shang-Chi x Stark!Reader, mentions: Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Pepper Potts, Katy Chen, Xialing Xu, Steve Rogers, just about everyone.

Warnings: fluff/crack drabble? I don’t know how to categorize it. swears.

Summary: Your fiance is with you to celebrate Christmsa together! Your first Christmas with family since the Blip, aka, for once, you did not run away from a holiday

WC: 2,926

Murder. All you could think about was murder.  As you watched your fiancé and your little sister run around the kitchen, you wanted to do nothing but murder them. Sure, they were adorable. They were so cute at this moment, playing together, laughing, having fun, but you wanted to fucking kill them.

A hand rested on your shoulder and you looked to your right to see Pepper sighing, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. That doesn’t take me hours to do or anything,” you replied, staring at all the Christmas cookies you had decorated being covered in flour and other ingredients that ruined the designs and made the cookies, basically, inedible.

Pepper sighed softly, “I think Morgan got impatient waiting for you to come back from the store and decided that her uncle would be a sufficient baking buddy.”

“He’s also five years old inside, though. I guess it’s a good match.”

“Yeah…” Pepper trailed off. “Anyway, I invited Happy over, but he’ll be here after Christmas for the New Year’s party. May invited him to join her and Peter for Christmas.”

“That’s sweet,” you commented. “Good for Happy.”

“Yes. Rhodey will be here late too, and I’ve invited everyone to the compound for New Year’s.”

“Dude —“

“We’re keeping Tony’s legacy alive. We didn’t do a massive Christmas party. We’re doing a giant New Year’s party, deal with it,” she remarked. “How’s Katy enjoying the gift?”

“Well, I don’t know how well you can recreate Home Alone 2 when your entire family is with you, but she sent me a video of her throwing her brother into a snow bank in Central Park. I think they’re having fun.”

Pepper laughed, “Good, good. Okay, let’s stop this mess.”

You and Pepper walked into the kitchen to see Morgan holding a bag of icing like it was a knife, and Shangqi holding a bowl of sprinkles in the air like he was going to dump it all over Morgan.

“I will fucking kill you if you dump a bowl of sprinkles everywhere,” you blurted out quickly.

He cringed, “Sorry, babe.”

“Hi mama,” Morgan waved her hand cheerily. “We’re having fun.”

“I see! And making a huge mess of it,” Pepper took the bag out of her hand, “You ruined your sister’s cookies. She worked very hard on those, you know. You asked her to make them.”

“Oh,” her face fell slightly as she looked down to see the broken cookies covered in various other ingredients. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Uncle Shangqi made me have too much fun.”

“Dude…” he stared at her, shocked that she was totally passing the blame on him. “Wow.”

Morgan smirked while he pouted.

Shangqi glanced down and grabbed a cookie, “Hey, I mean. It still looks good! I’m sure this is fine,” he took a bite of one. You could see his eye twitched as his teeth sunk into a corner covered in raw flour and soaked in lemon juice, “It’s uh, got a nice bite to it.”

“Nice try,” you commented as you took the cookie from his hand. “You and Morgan are cleaning this up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And when you’re done, I’m going to make coquito and blow your mind,” you explained as you picked some chocolate chips off of his sweater. “So go clean up, don’t make more of a mess, and I’ll be back.”

“You got it, boss,” he leaned down and pecked your lips. “Where will I find you?”

“I’ll be upstairs making my rounds of texts and video calls.”

He nodded his head once and gave you a quick, almost comical salute with how much sugar he was covered in, “Then I will see you soon.”

You smiled softly, mumbled ‘at ease’ and walked away, making sure to tickle Morgan on her stomach before you jogged upstairs. Going into your room, you jumped on the bed, pulled out your phone, and went to making your calls.

“Hey, Peter,” you smiled as you caught Happy in the background wearing an apron and very clearly trying to teach May how to make something. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. May burned a bunch of stuff. Happy is trying to help her learn to cook. Again. Totally not weird at all for me or anything,” he mumbled under his breath which made you snort. “Hey, May, Happy, Y/N called!”

“Hey!” May waved happily while Happy ran over.

“Hey, hey, munchkin!” 

You snorted, “Happy, I think I’m taller than you or your height, even.”

“Still going to be munchkin to me,” he remarked. “You look good, kid. Doing okay? Where’s that uh, where’s that new fiancé of yours?”

“Why, so you can intimidate him?” You teased. “He’s downstairs cleaning with Morgan. They were playing and made a mess.”

“Good, you make that man clean his own messes,” Happy said, pointing a finger at the screen. “we’re not falling for any more idiots who don’t appreciate you in this household.”

“Yes, Happy.” You grinned. “You guys have fun. I’m going to make a few more rounds really quickly.”

“Merry Christmas, munchkin,” Happy told you. “Good to see you actually celebrating this year and not being dragged around by Sam and Bucky.”

“Did they tell you what happened last year?”

“They told Pepper, who told me, in tears. Let’s just say she’s very happy to have you back and celebrating again.”

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, have fun. By the way, I think May burnt whatever’s on the stove.”

“Oh, shit!” Happy ran off to help her while you glanced at Peter.

“Yeah, that’s not surprising,” he sighed. “Bye, Y/N. See you at the party.”

“See ya, Parker.”

You then decided to call Bucky. After a few moments, and even a second call because you were not going to do this later, Bucky answered the phone wearing an elf hat and ears.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled as you immediately took screenshots. “Christmas really did come early for me. Thank you for this, Bucky Bear. This is all I ever wanted.”

“I swear to god, Stark. I will — “

“Y/N Stark, how you doin!” Sam shouted as he came into view, arm slinging around Bucky as eggnog sloshed around in his cup. “Doesn’t he look great? We’re calling him the grumpy elf.”

“Sam, he looks amazing. And you’re a fantastic Santa Claus. Or is it Samta?”

He beamed, “I see what you did there. I’m loving it! You went home this year, right? Or do we need to go drag your ass outside? We already adopted one emo for the holidays. Do we need another?”

You snorted, “I’m home, I’m home! Who did you get? Steve?”

“Yeah, Sarah’s got him helping her in the kitchen, since Sam is drunk and eating everything before she can even finish prepping for tomorrow.”

Sam nodded proudly, “Yes, yes I am. What you guys doing over there?”

“Shangqi and Morgan are cleaning up a kitchen explosion so I can make some coquito tonight.”

Cue those two groaning and shouting that they wanted coquito and didn’t have any. Yelling over each other, they proceeded to beg you to save them some, or make more for the New Year’s party. Sam was even so bold as to ask for the recipe.

“That’s my mom’s recipe. You’re not getting that,” you chuckled. “Over my dead body.”

“Well, don’t tempt us, Stark. We’ll make it happen.” Bucky joked.

“Oh ,sure, sure. I bet you two will kill me. You like me too much to do that.”

“You’re okay, I guess.” Sam sighed. “Like, we don’t care about your feelings or anything. We just check on you so you don’t break the planet and stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded slowly. “Right. Anyway, have fun. Say hi to —“

“Oh, let’s give her the tour,” Bucky held the phone out of Sam’s reach and brought you to the kitchen. He turned the camera around so you could see her kids sitting at the counter, one drinking hot chocolate while the other was decorating the rest of the mugs of the steaming hot beverage. Sarah turned and waved happily to you before slapping Sam’s hand away from the ham. Steve turned around and gave you a soft wave.

“Doing okay there, doll?” Steve asked. “I know how you get around Christmas.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not your job to check on me, Steve.”

“As long as I’m alive, I’ll —“

“Okay, before this gets awkward, I’m gonna let you go,” Bucky said quickly as he turned the phone way. “Later, Stark. Oh, and tell your boyfriend — sorry, tell your fiancé that he’s a loser. And tell Katy she’s an even bigger loser.”

“Wow,” your eyebrows flew up. “Bucky, you really do like them, don’t you? Aw, look at you making friends. This is so cute.”

“Shut up, Stark.”

You cackled, “Bye, guys. Have fun.”

You briefly spoke to Bruce after. Scott didn’t answer, likely with his kid, so you left a message for him. You went through your small circle of people, reminded Katy where she needs to drive to tomorrow so she and her family could come visit, and you tried to make one phone call that you’d been trying to make three times now.

“I know you have no one to go to, answer your phone, loser,” you muttered as you stood up from your bed and started to head downstairs, basically giving up on having this conversation.

But, funny enough, you heard a phone ringing as you descended the stairs. Frowning, you pulled away slightly to try to figure out whose phone that was while you waited on the line. As you hit the bottom step and looked around the room, you could see Clint by the front door taking off his boots while Pepper was hanging his coat on the rack.

“Can you stop calling me?” Clint looked at you. “God, you make it so hard to surprise you. Sheesh, your poor fiancé.”

You beamed. You tossed the phone on the sofa and ran over to Clint ,tackling him in a hug and listening to his back crack. “You’re such an asshole, Barton.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Starky.” Clint hugged you and rubbed your back. “Pepper invited me over. Hope that’s fine with you.”

“I was just calling to wish you happy holidays in case I forget tomorrow. I guess this’ll suffice.”

“You usually do forget, yeah,” he nodded in agreement. “I brought some booze. And, uh, eggnog for the kid.” He then glanced up at Pepper, “Oh, but it’s, like, low-sugar and all that healthy crap you do.”

Pepper laughed, “It’s Christmas Eve, she ate two candy canes for breakfast and three cookies for lunch. It’s all hell breaks loose now.”

“Right on,” Clint grinned. “Where is the tiny Stark and the boy toy anyway?”

“Kitchen,” you held on to Clint’s arm and dragged him to the kitchen. There, he could see Morgan sitting on the counter and throwing things into the garbage can like it was basketball, which Shangqi was holding up for her and cheering her on. “Hey, Morgan. You remember Clint, right?”

“Hi, Mr. Barton,” Morgan waved her hand.

“Clint’s fine, squirt,” Clint waved back to her.

“I’m not a squirt! I am Queen Morgan of Dragonridge and I slayed the giant demon dragon.”

Clint blinked leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m terrified of the inventions she comes up with when she’s older.”

“She already made a very crude, but effective, outline of flame-thrower pistols. I’m so excited,” you replied.

Clint now made a mental note that Morgan was a terrifying little creature. He nodded to Shangqi with a grin, reaching over to shake his hand as Shangqi put the can down to give him a hug.

“Still engaged to her? You’re brave.”

You mumbled swears while Shangqi held a hand over his own heart.

“I know, right? I’m shocked too. I think it’s the food that keeps me here.”

“You know? Fuck the both of you.”

“Yeah, fuck the both of you,” Morgan echoed.

“Oh, fucking shit,” you mumbled and pinched the bridge of your nose while Morgan started cackling maniacally.

“Okay. I think that’s a good time to force you to a bath,” Pepper said as she took Morgan’s hand and helped her off the counter. “Clint, make yourself comfortable. We’re eating late and opening a present each tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Clint thanked her and watched the two disappear. With them gone, Clint stared at you and your fiancé who was resting his chin on the top of your head. “I’ve got pizza in the car we can have for lunch.”

“Amazing,” you sighed happily.

“Wait, we’re opening presents tonight?” Shangqi asked with a furrowed brow. “You guys don’t wait until Christmas?”

“Just one gift tonight,” you explained. “When I was a kid my mom and I would cook all day long, open a present at night. She tried to get me to go to midnight mass, never happened, always knocked out.”

“Wow, are you going all out?” Clint asked. “The last time you did all that was, I think, I think when we were all at the tower.”

“Yeah….” you trailed off and glanced up at Shangqi. “Thought I’d share some off my Christmas traditions.”

Your fiancé beamed, “I’m honored, babe. I really am. Anything else I should know?”

“At the moment? Nah.”

He nodded, “Oh, since Katy’s family is coming tomorrow, I have it under good authority they’re making some stuff to bring over.”

You raised an eyebrow, “How did they find a way to make food? I don’t think there was a kitchen in that room at The Plaza.”

Shangqi sighed and patted the top of your head, “Never underestimate  that family’s desire to feed people. It outweighs everything every time.”

“Noted. Great, it’ll be a Chinese-American-Puerto Rican Christmas for all,” you clapped your hands together. “Let’s do this. I’ll get started on the coquito.”

“I’ll help you get the pizza out of the car,” Shangqi nodded to Clint.

Clint sighed happily, “I can’t wait to eat all of that food tomorrow.”

~*~

The boys heated up the pizza in the oven while you were making the festive drink. Shangqi would sit on the counter and feed you pizza while you worked, him and Clint shooting the breeze with you in the kitchen and talking about video games and movies, mostly. Morgan returned from her bath and joined the pizza party along with Pepper, who was delighted that Clint picked it up from her favorite place.

After making your coquito, you all curled around the TV and fireplace to watch Christmas movies together. Shangqi noticed at one point that Morgan was drawing the Grinch’s sleigh, and he wondered if he was witnessing a child evil genius concoct an actual way to steal presents from people.

You all opened one gift each, drank some more, and each went your separate ways to go to bed. Morgan was already passed out and carried up to bed by Pepper. You, Clint, and Shangqi hung around for al little while longer before heading off to bed. 

In your bedroom, you curled up into Shangqi’s arms as he wrapped his tightly around you and stared up at the ceiling.

“I like this,” he remarked. “You’re doing things you used to do, sharing it with me. You look happy, babe. That makes me happy too.”

You beamed and squeezed his middle, “I mean. It still kind of sucks. Haven’t had my mom for so long so I’ve dealt with that but it really sucks not having my dad here. He’s the life of the party.”

“Well,” Shangqi turned so he was facing you, “I’m sure we can find someone to take up that title.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off.

“It’s going to be Morgan,” you both said and laughed. 

“Good, too much pressure,” you remarked. “Thanks for coming. I know you wanted to do that Plaza Hotel Home Alone thing with Katy.”

“Yeah, but I can always do it next year or whatever,” He shrugged a shoulder. “But this was your first Christmas back with family. This was more important.”

“You’re kinda too good to me,” you muttered to yourself. “I think about that, you know? Helped me through so much. I kind of feel like all this time together I haven’t really done the same for you.”

“Well, babe. Next time my ex-husband comes back from the dead after all my friends died and we saved the world, I will heavily lean on you,” he teased. “Besides, that’s not true.  Remember when we went to Macau to see my sister? You were there for me through all of that. Even when I thought she might actually be rebuilding the Ten Rings, which is crazy,” he laughed to himself in disbelief. “Anyway, I’m not keeping track, babe. I love you. You’re amazing. We just have to be there for each other no matter what. Right?”

You grinned, “Right.”

He winked, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Shangqi,” you sighed happily and kissed him before resting your head on his chest. As your arms found a comfortable spot around him, you felt them brush against something. Frowning, you raised your hand and grabbed at his boxers, which made him squirm under your touch.

You sat up and stared at him in the dark, “Shangqi.”

“Yes, oh lovely love of my life?”

“Did you,” you paused to feel around, “Did you pin mistletoe to your boxers?”

“I did, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Festive, right?”

“Oh, my god.”

#shang chi x reader #shang-chi x reader #xu shang chi #shang-chi x stark!reader #shang-chi #stark!reader x platonic!clint barton #platonic!clint x reader #stark!reader #stark!readerverse #crazycookiecrumbles

[charliedawn]

Hello! I do hope that I am not bothering you with my asks, but I was wondering how would the Lecter's treat the only female Lecter of the family who is the the second youngest of the family and an omega? Also, in the A/B/O AU, what is each Lecter's status?

Thank you! 🙂

Hannibal Sr. is an alpha and he fits every criteria of what that entails.

He would make sure that you respect him before accepting you into the family. His word is law.

He would try to intimidate you to make sure you follow his orders and make you stay out of trouble.

He would be kind to you of course, but would also make sure you understand certain rules...including, not approaching possible mates until you're old enough or ready.

He would also make sure no boy would try to steal you away from the family or worse, try to be a part of the family. (or they’ll have to fill his standards)

He may be an alpha, but he won't let anyone disobey him, even if you're an omega in his family.

He would also be overprotective of you and would growl warningly at his own sons to keep you from harm.

Don't forget that you are all technically adopted and that Hannibal Sr. wasn't born yesterday. You may be his family, but he won't let anything disturb the perfect balance he's created.

Hannibal Jr. is a beta, but who became the alpha of the family when Hannibal Sr. got imprisoned and often takes charge when Hannibal Sr. is not around.

He takes care of the young ones and would take care of you as well and make sure you get everything you need.

He isn’t that keen on the hierarchy and would be far more flexible than Hannibal Sr.

He is certainly less categorical on the rules and wouldn’t necessarily be as overprotective as Hannibal Sr., but he would still ask that you follow his orders in case of emergency.

Alphas are to be listened to and when their voice is heard, the rest of the pack are forced to listen and follow. Hannibal Jr. doesn’t really like using his alpha voice and prefers to listen, that doesn’t mean he will not use it when he thinks necessary.

Hannibal Jr. would also be the one providing you everything you need and educate you so you may one day become a fine lady who would be able to fend for herself and be a fearsome killer.

He would be a sort of mentor in the art of killing for you (and how to never be caught 🤫).

Morgan is a young beta of 22 years old, which means he might change into an alpha some day. Alpha is not only a hierarchical title, but some can become alphas by nature when they turn into fully matured adults (which goes from 20 to 25).

Morgan would be surprised to see you arrive after everyone else and would be afraid you might be trouble at first. He would be suspicious and would watch you like an hawk the first few weeks.

However, he would quickly understand that you aren’t dangerous and would even help you during your first "hunt", as everyone in the family has to participate, even if they don’t eat the meat.

Morgan *places your fingers right on your bow and steadies your aim* : "You need to breathe and relax. Remember that the prey is supposed to be afraid and make mistakes. Not you."

As you would still be young, he would even lend you his fairytale books’ collection, his most prized possession and read to you when you would have trouble sleeping.

At the end, you would both find each other’s company agreeable and Morgan would be happy to have another sibling to look after.

Kevin is a beta as well. Hannibal Sr. made sure that he would adopt no alpha to challenge his authority and his first pick was Kevin because he found out about his interesting past and soon-to-be execution.

He decided to save him and adopt him as to have a son and extend his legacy, as Hannibal Jr. was never really interested in having children.

Kevin would be pretty nice to you at first, but you would quickly discover his passion for teasing you and Peter quite a lot.

Kevin *puts his arm around your shoulders at breakfasts with a small smirk* : "You’ll tell me if you run into any trouble, okay ? Big bro would come running and make everyone pay.." *pretends to be thinking* "But, seriously, how does it feel to be an omega ? Besides, the need to be protected all the time and have heats..It must suck."

He would maybe be hard on you at first, but because he knows that an omega’s life is not easy and would try to prepare you for what you may encounter outside the Hannibal mansion.

But, deep down ?

He’d be very protective of you and would make sure nobody lays a finger on you.

Kevin is attached to his family and would never hurt you intentionally.

Unfortunately, he can sound a bit insensitive sometimes, but it’s because he spent most of his childhood with no emotion and not feeling affected by anyone around him.

It’s hard for him to care. But, he would try his best not to go too far and make you understand that he still loves his baby sister. 😉😂

Peter is an omega as well, which means Hannibal Sr. would be as overprotective of him than he would be of you.

Peter would be happy to meet you and to have another omega in the family.

You would certainly be the closest and spend the most time together as you understand each other and are in the same kind of situation.

Also, Hannibal Sr. and Hannibal Jr. would prefer to see you together than with the other boys because they would know that if there is a problem ? You would have each other.

However, there is another reason.

Peter would have an important job..As you are a female omega: you have heat cycles and his job would be to keep you away from everybody else during them.

As he is a male omega, Peter doesn’t have the cycles and would not be affected by the pheromones you produce.

However, the rest of the family ? One sniff and they would go berserk, which is why Peter is the only one who would be allowed in your room and would have to guard your door in case someone else wants to enter..

#hannibal x reader #hannibal family #fandoms #imagine #fanfic #kevin hannibal #morgan hannibal #peter hannibal

[tinyyoungblood]

normal grocery store situation

summary: this is what it looks like when peter and y/n are sent to the grocery store to get some groceries for the others

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

a/n: this is the most random thing, i won’t even bother to tag anyone lmao but i was watching the match tonight and had to do something before i just sat there punching air lol enjoy x

            ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Did you find a cream yet for that nasty rash you showed me earlier? I’m sure there’s something to stop the oozing.”

Peter stopped dead in his track and shot you a glare.

“It was funny the first time. Now you’re just the weirdo that keeps bringing up my rash.” He made sure to air quote the last word although it was just the two of you in the cereal aisle.

Smirking, you pushed the cart forward and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s still your rash, buddy. All yours.”

You smiled sweetly as an old lady passed you, looking mildly horrified when you added, “That’s what you get for running around naked in alleyways.”

Peter’s groan was music to your ears. You didn’t even wait until she had hurried around the corner before bursting out laughing.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” said Peter flatly.

You shrugged. “You should know. Considering that’s where the rash is.”

Not a second later, you felt your ankle knock into something, making you trip and stumble into a shelf. Boxes of cereal toppled to the floor, making a glorious mess around you.

You glared up at Peter but he simply stared back with a blank face. The corner of his mouth just tugged slightly upward as he grabbed the cart and strolled past you, whistling.

After you had painstakingly put everything back, you found Peter in front of the spice section. He was holding two jars in each hand, skimming their labels as if they contained the secret to the universe.

“Do you know what Pepper uses for her noodles?” A faint crease appeared between his brows.

You gave him a sidelong glance. “You mean what she puts in the water when boiling noodles?”

He nodded.

“Salt,” you replied. “She puts salt in the water.”

His brows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“Positive.” You scanned the shelf for some cinnamon since Bucky wanted to try out a new recipe.

“How come it tastes so much better than Steve’s noodles?” Peter put the spices back and pushed the cart along, walking in front of you.

You stared at the back of his head in disbelief. “Because he doesn’t put salt in the– you’re messing with me, right?” Yesterday you had witnessed Peter win an argument against Tony about powering one of his suits with potatoes. It was hard to believe that he couldn’t piece this together.

But Peter merely shrugged, grabbing two pints of your favourite ice cream, and placed them in the cart. “There’s no way it can make that much of a difference. It’s just salt.”

“You know that salt enhances flavour, right?” You watched as he added two more pints of Nat’s favourite ice cream and crossed them off the shopping list. Then he aimed for the aisle with the sweets.

“Well, yeah, but it tastes significantly better. I’ve watched them both cook the same pasta with the same ingredients. Pepper’s spaghetti still tastes miles better.”

You held up two chocolate bars for Peter to choose. “That’s just because Cap is shit at cooking. He always burns the sauce.”

Peter picked the one with nuts and hummed as if reminiscing on a memory. “He does make scrubbing the pots look like an upper body work out.”

You grinned and reached over to hand him a jar of honey. “Do you know why Loki keeps asking for honey? We already have a whole stack at home.”

“Not sure,” Peter replied, eyeing the label before placing it in the cart. “Maybe he’s just hoarding them. Did you know that honey never goes bad? They found 3,000-year-old honey while excavating tombs in Egypt, and it was perfectly edible. It could definitely outlive Bucky and Steve if we let it.”

You arched an eyebrow. “All I’m hearing is that Loki’s probably trying to figure out a way to achieve immortality.” You pointed out a funny looking advertisement in passing and Peter chuckled. “Should we stop him?”

“From smothering himself in honey?” Peter looked appalled. “Absolutely not.”

You nodded wisely and let Peter take your hand. The other one he used to push the cart.

After you had found a couple other items, you pursed your lips and mused, “Do you think that’s why bees are okay with working all their lives? I’ve read that one bee will only make 1/12 of a teaspoon on honey in its entire life.”

“You mean because they know their work will outlive humanity and become their immortal legacy?” Peter stopped and mindlessly ran his fingers along his jawline, pondering. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh, look! They have that special edition fabric softener that Thor loves so much.”

“Wait, for real?” You followed him excitedly.

After a lively discussion about whether or not birch water and botanicals was the superior smell, you had settled for lavender and vanilla bean instead to play it safe.

“I still can’t believe you thought that combination of yeast smelled good,” Peter teased, his face scrunched up in a grimace.

“Just let it go.” You sighed, but Peter held up both hands with a smirk.

“I’m just saying, there’s no point in washing your clothes only to make them smell like your backyard. Might as well roll around in dirt.”

“Is that how you got your butt rash?” You asked sweetly as Peter blinked slowly before turning his head to see the same old lady from before. She stared at him with wide eyes before scurrying away.

You laughed quietly into your hand as Peter turned back around. He tried to glare at you, but the twinkle of amusement in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

Still, he shouldered past you and slid his hands into his pockets, murmuring, “We’re never coming back to this store.”

It only made you laugh harder.

* * *

stay hydrated guys

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #spiderman #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker fandom #mcu

[emerald-chaos]

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky smut #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky fic #sebastian stan character #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #Sebastian stan

[vagrantblvrd]

So, uh.

How ‘bout that AU where Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark went to a boarding school or, idk, some Young Rich Kid Thing years ago and have this ~frenemies thing going on?

Because heirs to their respective empires/legacies who end up in the superhero business.

The press thinks they’re rivals/frenemies and such? Which in all honesty they should be?

But nah.

(But maybe?)

In reality they heckle the shit out of each other and stage “hostile takeovers” and whatnot because things are slow and boring, or they need to train up new people to handle serious attempts and anyway.If they manage to succeed it just means there’s a WE branch in that city or SI in this one and anyway.

It’s entertaining as hell watching the pres trying to make sense of it?

But also the superhero Thing and late night calls where it’s clear the other one Knows but coming out and admitting it would spoil the fun, but anyway, okay, anyway.

Sometimes Bruce gets packages with new gear/tech that have the Si logo on them somewhere - discreet-like, but also where Bruce knows to look. Or Tony gets a gift or someone taps JARVIS on the shoulder like psst, hey, you should take a look at this, and oh, hey, something nefarious is brewing and Tony best nip that nonsense in the bud before it blows up in his face.

Clark is convinced Bruce cannot stand this Tony Stark character? But then there’s some party or an expo and Bruce has to attend, and Clark goes (as Bruce’s ~date or in capacity as a reporter or just to fuck with Bruce for the hell of it) and is like oh.

Because to anyone who doesn’t know better it sure as hell looks like Bruce cannot stand Tony? But he’s got a real smile on his face, no horribad Brucie facade, seems glad to see him?

(And look, he doesn’t know Tony well, but he’s interviewed the man before and the smiles he sees on Tony’s face while talking to Bruce aren’t the same ones he gave Clark during that interview.)

AND THEN.

There’s the matter of Bruce’s kids and Tony’s kids and Bruce’s no, pls no, at the mere thought of them meeting?

But of course they do, because his kids are all horrible little gremlins and Tony’s got this mixed bag - Parker’s charmingly polite, but then there’s Keener and oh, God, the rest - and Bruce is like *SIGH* because the world will never be the same again???

Also, though, also.

Bruce’s kids when they’re with the Titans and Tony’s on the west coast at the time, you know - convenient that - and oh, God, the horror? (The horror.)

Especially when he finds plans for iron man suits in Robin’s colors???

There are so many over the years, and when his kids outgrow Robin there are suit designs for Nightwing, and armor or Red Hood - where did Bruce think Jason got the fancy helmet from, you know? Ra’s? Talia? Pfft. Red Robin and he knows Oracle’s got a line to Tony and JARVIS and whoever else for Steph and Cass and whoever.

(Armor at the very least, if they refuse a full suit and Bruce is like *SIGH* but it’s not like he’s going to turn something like that down, you know? Tony makes the best and it’s sticking point on the business side of things at times, a good reason for that division of WE to be better, dammit, although outsiders think it’s a business thing and nothing personal at all, and anyway.)

Yes.

Tony forever trying to ~woo Bruce’s kids away because they’re all so fucking smart?

But then there’s Tim, and Tony remembers the Drakes, okay. Wondered what happened to that kid he met at some party once upon a time, heard about the everything that left young Timothy without a mother and father badlyinjured and -

Bruce.

Also, okay, also.

Sometime after the everything with Jason, and Tony being in no position to help Bruce out, but then JARVIS tells him Batman’s got himself a new sidekick and really, Bruce, really.

Got to put in more work if you’re going to do the secret identity thing because that’s obviously the Drake kid - thank god you gave him tights, but come on, man, are you serious with all this?

And then the moment Tim’s anywhere near the west coast Tony has to check in on this kid and is like *_* because he’s the perfect little sarcastic brat and oh, Bruce, where do you find these kids?

But no, don’t tell Tony he can handle only so many tragic backstories before his morning coffee and anyway, about time you old bastard.

(Because Jason and Bruce’s guilt and everything.)

But then fast forward to Tony in New York and Tim’s there for a Thing for WE and Tony >:)))))))))))))) because he’s going to steal Tim for SI, don’t think he won’t, Wayne.

And then other shenanigans, I guess?

The Avengers being all ??? at this kid in the Tower who isn’t Peter or Harley and Tony trying to sell him on an armored suit of his own - grappling hooks are so yesterday, you know? Tony’s suits are so much better, and anyway, did he mention the flying thing?

Because it is awesome, Tim, trust him.

Tim is just *eyeroll* because Tony’s not wrong, but the whole metal suit doesn’t lend itself incredibly well to the whole...terror that flaps in the night thing or whatever the Bats have going for them???

(Tony takes that as a challenge because he can so make a stealth armor, just watch him, Tim.)

But anyway.

ALSO.

Tam being like.

NO. You can’t have him, he’s a nightmare, but he’s our nightmare, and then , idk, commiserating with Pepper and/or taking notes from Pepper and Tim and Tony are like oh, no, but also oh, yes, because Pepper is terrifying and her teaching Tam her tricks can only end well.

(Not for Tim, necessarily? But you know. In general.)

And then some party or gala or whatever and Bad Guys and the Avengers show up to save Tony and whoever?

And are ??? because Tony and Tim are like “Oh, no, after you I insist,” and “No, no, this is your city after all,” and so on because manners! And also superhero politics and really, the bad guys are hilariously bad at this and no one’s in any danger from them, and anyway.

Yes.

(Also. Tony being ridiculously charmed by Damian, okay. This little >:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( kid who clearly thinks Tony is at least three steps below slime he found on the bottom of his little batkid boot and oh, God, it’s like seeing young!Bruce before his kids ruined his life but in concentrated form and he cannot believe Bruce didn’t want the two of them to meet, Damian is a fucking delight, okay, as is Tony, and anyway. Yes.)

#batfam nonsense #avengers nonsense #crossover nonsense #bucky and jason bonding though #*_* #everyone else being oh no #because oh no #tim plotting with tony to make bruce's life miserable #like #job offers at SI that Bruce comes across and is like #*SIGH* #but also >:( no tony my kid! #you have yours #leave mine alone!!1! #idk #it's been a hell of a week #:D? #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post