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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

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Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

#bun writes #tony stark smut #tony stark fluff #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n

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advena87 · 4 years

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Lambert and Aiden on the Path

Putting aside my Kaer Morhen shenanigans series, I have repeatedly imagined the dynamics between Lambert and Aiden on the Path. You know how these two met and what it was like before they realized they were more than just friends. I think Lambert would be the surly one who wouldn’t like to bond, and Aiden, on the other hand, would be the energetic and friendly one. Of course, together, these two morons would be masters of mayhem and get into trouble more often than a toddler left alone at the zoo.

Lambert: Listen, smartass-

Aiden: Please, call me Aiden.

Lambert: I'd really rather not. If I named you, I could get attached.

***

Lambert: You’re kind of annoying.

Aiden: Kind of? Kind of??? Excuse me. Excuse you. I am fully annoying. I am very annoying. There’s nothing half-assed half-hearted “kind of” about it.

***

Aiden: So what’s the plan ?

Lambert: I thought you were the one with the plan.

Aiden: Nope, I’m the one with enthusiasm.

*later*

Lambert: As far as plans go, this is not a good one.

Aiden: Lambert, this was your plan.

Lambert: I didn’t think you’d actually say yes!

Aiden: I’m the one with enthusiasm, remember? There are many things that I will agree to and most of them will not have logical justification.

***

Lambert: You’ve been hallucinating all day after eating these wild berries and now you lick something you found stuck to the floor?!

Aiden: I have a natural curiosity.

***

Lambert: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why.

Aiden: Only if you also don't ask why--

Aiden, pulls out 7 pristine human skulls: Take your pick.

Lambert:

Aiden:

Lambert: This one is fine.

***

Lambert: What are all these dead bodies doing here?!

Aiden: Not much.

Lambert: …

Aiden: But, listen, I’m not a murderer.

Lambert: ...

Aiden: Okay, technically, I am. Not even technically. Literally. But I refuse to be defined by the times I murdered people.

Lambert: You think you can just bully people, but you can’t. It’s not okay. I’m the bully around here. Ask anyone.

Aiden: Oh.

Aiden: So you're mad because I'm a competition, not because I killed all these people?

Aiden: We'll be such a great team.

***

Lambert: Just letting you know, if we die I blame you.

Aiden: I know.

Lambert: None of this would have happened if you'd just gone to the Inn like I told you.

Aiden: If I'd gone to the Inn, you would be in jail right now.

Lambert: Well, jail is a big improvement over my current prospect of soon to be murdered!

***

Lambert: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch.

Aiden: What changed your mind?

Lambert: Oh, I still think you’re a bitch. I’ve just grown to like that about you.

Aiden: Are you this rude to all your friends?

Lambert: Yes, don’t think you’re special.

A voice from off: But he was.

***

*Lambert has miraculously survived leshen attack*

Aiden: But you were... How did...

Lambert: 'Cause I'm a badass, princess!

Aiden, chuckling: You're "a badass princess"?

Lambert: What? No, no, no. There's a comma. You know, I'm a badass, comma, prince-

Aiden: Yeah. Yeah, whatever you say... princess.

***

Aiden: Just let me take you TO HEALER-

Lambert: Oh, I’m sorry, is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it, pretty boy.

Aiden: Wait, you think I'm pretty?

Lambert, blushing: Yes, pretty annoying!

***

Aiden: Truth or dare?

Lambert: Truth.

Aiden: I dare you to kiss me.

Lambert, leaning in for a kiss: You better believe I’m not here to lose!

Lambert, stops: Hold on.

Lambert: What the fuck, I didn't even choose dare.

Aiden to himself: Damn, and it was so close!

***

Lambert, mentally: Wait, is he into me? Quick, make a bad joke and see if he laughs.

Lambert, aloud: Did you hear the one about the skeleton who couldn't go to the party? He had no body to go with!

Aiden, laughs: That's really funny.

Lambert: ...

Lambert, mentally: Well, that's not a fair test. That joke's hilarious.

***

Lambert: Step 1, be straight.

Aiden: *walks by*

Lambert: Failed step 1.

***

Aiden, jokingly: You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.

Lambert, seriously: Won’t be a problem.

Lambert, a weeks later: THERE’S A PROBLEM.

Aiden: Aww, you poor thing.

Lambert: Don’t bring my financial status into this.

***

Aiden: I’ve been dropping him the most insanely obvious hints for over six months now. No response.

Lambert: Wow. He sound stupid.

Aiden: But he isn’t. He is smart actually. Just dense.

Lambert: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Aiden: I guess you’re right. Hey Lambert, I love you.

Lambert: See! Just say that!

Aiden: Holy fucking shit.

Lambert: If that flies over his head then sorry, Aiden, but he is too dumb for you.

Aiden: Lambert…

* the same night, Lambert suddenly realizing that Aiden was talking about him all the time. *

Lambert: OMFG, I am such an idiot!

Aiden:

Lambert:

Aiden:

Lambert:

Aiden: If you're waiting for me to disagree with you, it's gonna be long night.

***

Aiden: *kisses Lambert before he goes into a life or death situation*

Lambert: Hot diggity dog!

Lambert: Oh no! The first thing I said after Aiden kissed me is “hot diggity dog”.

Lambert: You know what? It’s my honest reaction and I stand by it.

***

Lambert, on his relationship with Aiden: I was in the friend zone, and before I knew what was happening, he pulled me into the romance zone! It was like quick sand!

***

Lambert: Rubbing alcohol is for outside injuries.

Lambert: Drinking it is for inside injuries.

Aiden, softly: Babe, no–

***

Innkeeper: I can't believe you broke the bed last night. Must have been crazy!

*Last night*

Aiden: I bet you can't jump and touch the ceiling.

Lambert: Fucking watch me.

***

*after leaving the inn*

Lambert: Thanks for paying the bill for dinner.

Aiden: But... I thought you did?

Lambert:

Aiden:

Lambert: Well I guess we won’t be going to that place ever again

***

Villain: Now that we’ve captured you, we’re going to call your boyfriend.

Aiden: Please don’t.

Villain: Beggin will get you nothing!

Aiden: You don’t understand. He’s going to cause a massive scene. I’m trying to save both of us a lot of trouble here.

***

Lambert, wakes up: Wait... Where am I?

Aiden, sarcastically: In heaven

Lambert: Oh.

Lambert: ...

Lambert: Didn’t think you’d be here.

Aiden: Honestly, fuck you.

Lambert: We can do that in heaven?

Here is Part 2

#witcher #witcher 3 #witcher 3 wild hunt #tw3 #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher aiden #aiden #aiden x lambert #lambert x aiden #masters of mayhem #lambert and aiden on the path #kaer morhen shenanigans #incorrect quotes #incorrect witcher #incorrect witcher quotes

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imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years

Text

little bit of me, little bit of you

Part II | Part I | Part III

It has to be a coincidence—a weird, improbable, very uncanny coincidence—and Bucky really, honestly tries to convince himself of that, at first. Because even in a world with actual aliens living and working among everyday humans, super soldiers and superheroes running around New York, and hot dogs costing more than two fucking dollars, what are the chances that Bucky, somehow, had a child with current crush more than a decade ago without either of them remembering anything about it?

They’re pretty slim, is what they are.

Bucky has ample reason to doubt that he was in any way involved in creating Gabriel, and one of the biggest one is Steve. Bucky’s memory is, admittedly, still full of holes and untruths, but Steve’s known Bucky since they were toddlers, and he’s always been excellent at remembering even the most asinine things, even long before he got the serum. If there’s one other person aside from Bucky who’d see any potential similarities between Bucky and Gabriel, if there were any, it would be Steve.

But Steve hadn’t said anything before moving Bucky into the tower, and had only tilted his head, shrugged, and said, “Huh, you think so?” when Bucky had made a joke that wasn’t really one about how Gabriel could be his little brother or cousin, looks-wise.

So, Bucky tries to let the whole thing go. And fails, miserably.

(More after the break!)

He can’t explain why, or how, but he just knows. He knows there’s something more here, something he can’t recall, something just beyond reach, that was stolen from him, and he’s determined to find out what, exactly. And get it back.

The very first thing he learns—and probably should’ve expected—is that tracking down baby photos of someone who’s supposed to have died over seventy years ago, and has no more living relatives is a huge pain in the ass. He does eventually find a few, in a private art collection centred around the Howlies, of all places, but the owner is more than happy to send him copies in exchange for one of those tacky autograph cards Avengers PR insists they all carry around with them.

Once he has the pictures, carefully laid out on his kitchen counter, Bucky has to admit that he can’t blame Steve for not noticing. At first glance, Gabriel looks like Stark, just like his brothers, and doesn’t seem to have anything in common with Bucky at six, or fifteen, or twenty. They all have the same colouring, the same basic facial structure, even the same cheeky smile. Stark’s gene game is pretty strong, to put it short.

But it’s there, in the details, the resemblance that had initially thrown Bucky so much; that stubborn hair whorl that seems nearly untamable, the dimple in the left cheek that only ever makes an appearance during full-on belly laughter, the tiny little beauty mark under the right ear, some of the distinctive mannerisms, like the way the both move, sometimes, when they tuck their hair behind their ears, or try to hold back a smirk.

None of it is obvious, though, not unless someone’s actively looking. And Bucky can’t seem to stop, once he has admitted, to himself at least, that Gabriel has to be his.

Natasha’s silence is simultaneously skeptical and judging when Bucky calls her up to ask for a favour. He doesn’t delude himself that he won’t be interrogated about his sketchy behaviour eventually, but Nat promises to get him the HYDRA mission reports involving the Winter Soldier from the year before Gabriel’s birth, and that’s all that matters.

With that done, all Bucky can do, unfortunately, is wait. He briefly considers just flat out asking Tony about it, but he doesn’t actually think Tony knows much more than he does himself, as unlikely as that sounds. Tony hadn’t seemed like he’d met Bucky before, when Steve had introduced them, or acted like he was hiding something, or keeping secrets. And they might not have known each other for too long yet, but Bucky refuses to believe that Tony’s the sort of person who would lie like this, about his own child.

Before Bucky can drive himself crazy by overthinking the situation, and going over what little evidence he has again and again, Tony himself actually, albeit unknowingly, gives him his next clue.

The boys are parked on the couch when Bucky walks into the penthouse, not arguing or bickering for once, but all talking at once and over each other at the smiling man on the screen of the tablet that sits on the coffee table in front of them. Gabriel is talking about his science project, while Max whines about how unfair Tony’s being about something or other, and Theo just throws out all the Spanish words he’s learned recently, from the sound of it.

“Come on,” Tony says, appearing in the kitchen doorway, “they won’t even notice you’re here. They haven’t talked to Léon in a while, I think they’re updating him on literally everything that’s happened over the last two months.”

They settle at the kitchen table, where both Tony’s tools, and a cup of coffee for Bucky are already waiting. Tony’d suggested moving their maintenance sessions up to the penthouse a few weeks ago, as long as no bigger machinery or anything was needed. It’s definitely more comfortable, and usually ends with Bucky staying for lunch or dinner, and then a movie or games with the kids. Or just the food, movie, and games, more and more often.

He’d jumped at the chance to get to know Gabriel the first time Tony had invited him to stay for grilled cheeses and creamy tomato soup—it had been Theo’s day to choose lunch—but it’s not only his curiosity that keeps him coming back. He’d grown up in a huge family, with five sisters and little cousins always around, and he misses it. Still having Steve helps, a lot, but playing, snuggling, or roughhousing with the boys just settles something in Bucky, and always manages to calm him down or cheer him up, depending on what kind of day he’s had.

And getting some quality time with Tony is a definite plus, too.

“So,” Bucky says, once Tony’s knuckle deep in the wiring of his arm, and conveniently not looking at Bucky to see how much he’s currently failing at being subtle, “I’m assumin’ Léon is the famous Tío Léon?”

It’s not that Bucky’s jealous, because he’s got neither the right nor a reason to be—he gets to see the boys and Tony at least three to four times a week, these days—but Tío Léon is a constant topic of conversation in the Stark household. Still, he doesn’t expect the question to make Tony pause, and chew his bottom lip for a moment before sitting back, a strangely intense expression on his face.

Bucky is about to apologise for overstepping when Tony says, “He’s their father. Max and Theo’s.”

Even though he’s not sure why, Bucky can tell Tony’s being defensive. He must realise it, too, because a moment later he deflates, breathing out in one long whoosh, and sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—not everyone’s happy with our arrangement. I keep getting shit for it still, which. I can brush it off easy enough, but I don’t want my kids too see or hear any of that.”

“Fuck those people,” Bucky says, frowning, and Tony snorts, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders. Then he points at Tony, and warns, “I’m not puttin’ a dollar in the jar for that, the boys didn’t even hear.”

“Fair,” Tony allows, but the silence that follows is uncharacteristically awkward, for them.

It’s Bucky who breaks it after a moment. “You don’t have to, obviously, but you can tell me, if you want. I’ll listen. An’ only judge you quietly.”

“Asshole,” Tony quips back, smiling again as he kicks Bucky’s foot. Then he groans, tipping his head back, clearly embarrassed when he says, “Theo was my midlife crisis, I think. I just. Woke up one day, and realised I was almost forty, and that if I wanted more kids, I should probably get on that. Léon was happy to help out again.”

Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something dumb like, “I bet he did,” but he manages.

“And Max—I was an only child, and I hated it,” Tony sighs, absently playing with the small drill in his hand. “I didn’t want that for Gabriel. And having children had always been a vague plan for the future, so. After Gabriel, I knew I definitely wanted more, and I didn’t want to wait forever. And so we had Max.”

“But you’re not together?” Bucky guesses, trying to not sound hopeful. “Anymore?”

Tony shakes his head. “Never were. We met in college, kept in touch over the years, hooked up sometimes when we were both single. I love him, as a friend and the father of my children, but it was never more, for neither of us. He agreed to help me, uh, make Max and Theo, but he never wanted to be a dad. Which was perfect, really, since I wanted kids, not a boyfriend.”

It feels like he’s pressing his luck, but he most likely won’t get another chance like this one. Hiding his trembling hands under the table, heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of his chest, Bucky asks, “And what about Gabriel?”

- Potrix | AO3

A/N: This is now officially a story full of cliffhangers, I guess? Also, I’m thinking of Oscar Isaac when I talk about Léon. Just imagine how gorgeous those kids have to be? Part III on Monday!

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #kid fic #mpreg #past mpreg #getting together #misunderstandings #hydra fuckery #tiny adorable versions of tony #prompts #potrix

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weeklyhumorist · 4 years

Text

The Son From ‘Cats in The Cradle’ Would Like To Correct The Narrative

“My child arrived just the other day

He came to the world in the usual way”

Actually, my birth story’s quite harrowing. Dad, like most mid-twentieth century men, wasn’t even in the room. Mom was in labor for fifteen brutal hours. Far from “usual,” I’d say.

But as you’ll see, cutting mom out of the family portrait is an ongoing issue.

“But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay

He learned to walk while I was away”

One doesn’t learn to walk in a day. Yes, dad was gone for the specific moment I took my first step, but it’s not like he missed my early mobility entirely. I have grainy home movies of me shaking diapered booty in every imaginable way. Dad’s very much there.

Also, what’s with him portraying himself as some sort of jetsetting Don Draper burning up the Pan-Am miles? My father was an insurance salesman. He went on maybe two planes a year, at most. Usually to visit aunt Clara, not to pay bills. But I digress.

“And he was talking ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew

He’d say ‘I’m gonna be like you, dad’

‘You know I’m gonna be like you’”

Others I was “gonna be like” at age three: Stretch Armstrong, Grimace, and Lassie. Toddlers’ expectations are famously untethered from reality and not in any way predictive.

“And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon

Little boy blue and the man in the moon

‘When you coming home, dad?’ ‘I don’t know when’

But we’ll get together then

You know we’ll have a good time then”

Pop’s really hung up on this “when you coming home, dad?” conceit. To be fair, I did ask it a lot. Like when he went golfing. Or to the bank to deposit that bill-paying money. Or sometimes just to the backyard. It’s actually a really mundane thing for kids to ask. Dad makes its sound like I was in belabored agony longing for patriarchal security. In truth, I just wanted to know how long I had before he commandeered the TV with tedious Bonanza reruns.

“My son turned ten just the other day

He said, thanks for the ball, dad, come on let’s play

Can you teach me to throw, I said, not today

I got a lot to do, he said, that’s okay”

You know what I don’t remember, like at all? My tenth birthday. Nine is memorable because I had one of those sweet ass seventies McDonald’s parties with orange drink and Happy Meals and dangerous playgrounds. Eleven is family lore because I embarrassingly vomited all over my Carvel cake. But ten? Total blank. I trust I did get a ball, if dad says I did, but I’m 99% sure I knew how to throw said ball before reaching double digits. Isn’t that a kindergarten skill?

“And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed

It said, I’m gonna be like him, yeah

You know I’m gonna be like him”

Really, pops? My smile spoke to you? That’s a thing that happened? Guess you took fuller advantage of the seventies than I realized!

Honestly, this whole story makes me sound like a damn idiot. Here I am at ten, unable to throw a ball but apparently with a smile like a crystal ball. And then when pops steps away to clean the garage or perform some other man-chore, that’s the catalyst that leads me to attach my life’s aspirations to him? What? Why?

I am, however, happy to know that after this one, apparently hyper informative day, nothing happened during the next eight years to trigger dad’s guilt. I myself remember adolescence as a bit of a roller coaster, but for dad it seems to have been smooth sailing. He went through an early ‘80s yoga phase, so maybe that’s it.

Fast forward to college.

“Well, he came from college just the other day

So much like a man I just had to say

Son, I’m proud of you, can you sit for a while?”

Now this I do remember. School was hundreds of miles away, and I drove a really crappy VW with no air, no stereo, and only about half an engine. I walk up to my doorstep after this exhausting drive, massive bag of laundry in tow, and before I can even ring the bell, dad’s immediately—and I do mean immediately—all up in my face like, “hey son, whatdya know? Like our new furniture? Want to sit on it? Have some Tang?”

But I couldn’t do any of that because I had an errand at a store that closed in twenty minutes. Or as dad chooses to remember it:

“He shook his head, and he said with a smile

What I’d really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys

See you later, can I have them please?”

Yes, with my shitty car basically busted, I did ask to borrow the family wagoneer. And where was I going, you ask? That would be to the bakery to pick up an anniversary cake. Because ya see, dad had again forgotten my other parent, as he’s wont to do (but I guess that’s another song, eh dad?).

I was back in ten and spent the rest of this weekend at home. If anything, it was a little too much in the father/son bonding department.

Years then pass without incident, until one arbitrary phone call eventually re-triggers dad.

“I’ve long since retired and my son’s moved away

I called him up just the other day”

“I said, I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”

Note that he didn’t ask to see me. It’s all about him. He’d like to see me. I’ve been summoned.

Nevertheless, I’m polite.

“He said, I’d love to, dad, if I could find the time

You see, my new job’s a hassle, and the kids have the flu

But it’s sure nice talking to you, dad

It’s been sure nice talking to you”

Cue another self-centered pity party.

“And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me

He’d grown up just like me

My boy was just like me”

My god, what a narcissist! I mean, I love him and I’m glad he’s taken up the retirement hobby of songwriting, as it keeps his mind sharp. But seriously, why the unrelenting solipsism?!

Sorry your grandkids had the flu, dad (they’re fine now, by the way). Sorry I had a hard deadline. Sorry I politely reminded you how nice it was to hear your voice. Sorry I didn’t realize my entire life was under a microscope built by your own guilt or that one lone phone call would serve as allegory for our relationship. Sorry I couldn’t call you back until the very next morning.

But mostly, dear father, I’m sorry you’re so hard on yourself. While you were a good dad who taught me much, the most important lesson you’ve given me is to not define either my parenting or my children by my own selective memories from a tiny handful of days.

Rest assured that I’m not gonna be like you, dad. You know I’m much more like mom.

The Son From ‘Cats in The Cradle’ Would Like To Correct The Narrative was originally published on Weekly Humorist

#Cats in The Cradle #dad #funny #humor #music #son #song

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dachi-chan25 · 7 years

Text

Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 3 Pt. 1

I actually have the time to write this so here I go.

WARNINGS: SPOIIIiLERS; not a D@€nerys fan so y'all know I’ll be actually critical about her actions; JonSa shipper so of course I have a little bias.

-------------

1.- We start at Dragonstone, where Jon Snow and Dadvos are just arriving, the welcome comitee looks pleasant enough (if you don’t mind the Dothrakis and the Unsullied intimidating you that is) Tyrion and Jon immediatly take quips at each other and are buddy-buddy, Missandei says it’s so cool they’re taking so much trouble for Quiin D’s sake (LMAO not everyone is in Love with her like y'all honey, it’s not even for her but whatever helps you both sleep at night) and asks them to leave their weapons.

Right, so I would say she ask them this as a trust act and stuff,and it would be so if they were on a neutral spot and she went unarmed (without Dragons and guards) but it’s NOT really what FUCKING difference does it make if Jon has Longclaw??? He didn’t bring a frigging army and he sure as hell can’t fight them all (specially the magical fire lizards) so why??? Well this is the first of many acts of petty dominance on Dane-ñys part we’ll see this episode.

They even take the motherfucking boat (who is looking threatening now?) and Jon makes this face like he regreats his moronic decision of leaving WF

All those steps tho!!! (Stannis must have been real fit guys) So Dadvos tries to test the waters and asks something about her homeland to Missandei, she is polite but clearly distant and Dadvos whispers to Jon things have surely changed in DS.

Tyrion asks about Sansa (not Lady Sansa or your sister, hmmmm???) Jon says she is well, and that would have been a pretty normal conversation if not for the fact that Tyrion chooses to make a joke asking if Sansa has missed him, and guys believe me I tried to take off my shipper googles for tonight’s episode but holy fuck!! Jon looks like he wants to punch Tyrion, and he gets so nervous and uncomfortable he all but blurts that their marriage was a sham and unconsummated, Jon snaps that he didn’t ask.

I don’t know y'all but if someone talked to me about my big brother’s sex life I would be like ewww and make a cringey face, because I don’t give a damn, but Jon’s reactions are wierd he gets angry, also why talk about a sexual part of Sansa’s life everytime Jon meets her past suitors?? I mean we could argue that Jon meeting Tyrion again was inevitable, as well as seeing Theon next ep (cuz they are both with the D) or even the Hound because he and the Bannerless Brotherhood are heading North to fight with the WW… But what about LF? Jon was about to leave, he had no need to know about LF’s intentions and that threat in Hulk mode was just too innecesary as was Tyrion’s comment, or the Joffrey thing back on 7x01??? I don’t wanna be overly optimistic but things are still looking good for J/S.

Yeah so we have a Danonino is petty again moment by sending her Dragons to scare Jon, and OK I really like Missandei (I Love seeing girls who once were abused be confident and empowered, and I Love lenguages as well and it’s so cool she speaks so many!!) but her pleased holier than thou expression pissed me off, you don’t do that to guests miss! It’s rude and totally uncalled for to do this to someone that has been nothing but accomodating and polite.

Also I have another issue here, Missandei was crucial to Danita’s conquest of Meeren and Astapor because she was her translator, she understood how things moved there (masters and slaves) and she was loyal to D unconditionaly, but why bring her to Westeros??? She doesn’t need a translator anymore and just like Danonino Missandei doesn’t know squat about westerosi politics… Wild idea, but wouldn’t it have been better and a hella lot more meaningful if Missandei had stayed as Lady Regent in Mereen (I mean a girl raised as a slave leading people like her, it makes sense to me) but I guess D needed a cool break up gift for Daario.

2.-Melissandre is watching them from a Cliff, and Varys is like if you say they so great why didn’t you greet them?? She is vague af but basically says she and Team Snow are not so cool with each other because she made a mistake (that’s how we calling sweet Shireen’s awfull murder?? Fuck you red woman) and says she is gonna go to Volantis to chill before the war, and Varys is like good and don’t ever come back you trick ass bih, but Meli is like y'all need me and my destiny is to die in this foreing land… Like you (is it me or does this remind y'all of Danss threat last ep??)

3.-They finally reach the castle, Jon is kind of adorable cuz he is so uncomfortable and fidgety, and Danee is petty again, sitting on yet another fugly throne (Aegon honey I know you were all about conquering but you have a hella lot of obsidian lying around and it would have made an awesome and elegant throne instead of that thing you have there) and Missandei annoys me once again by proudly parroting every goddamn title of Dañy, and she looks ridiculous once Davos humbly introduces Jon (I actually laughed because it’s more aparent than ever to me that all their parallels were to make'em foils of each other).

Jon and Davos say she could take KL very easily and that if she hasn’t done so yet it’s because, and I quote’ “You’re better than Cersei at the very least” I mean you’re not exactly wrong Jon, but like Tyrion was the one to say ‘Hey how about we don’t kill anyone pls’ so there’s that.

Jon proves once again he is a hella lot more polite and grown up than her adressing her as Your Grace and Daññy is a petty toddler calling him Lord Snow, but my Dadvos is having none of that shit and he corrects her which leads to D@€-D@€ to prove her ignorance once again saying the last KitN bent the knee to grand pops Aegon in exchange of his and the rest of the northerns lives (yes honey and you think that was good or fair? Using violence to get your way?) and that it was for everzzzz cuz even though my shitty ancestors bullied everyone to give up their claims to them they became super best friends and had eternal perfect peace (I read World of I&F and her history knowledge is biased or plain shitty, I mean Targaryens were awful and had massive weapons of destruction nobody was going against them for fear not loyalty you entitled brat!!) so kneel!! And he was like LOL no, your crazy dad burned my grandad and my uncle if anything your family broke the alliance, and we have a D is a big fat hypocrite moment when she asks Jon not to condemn her for her father’s sins, Jon is not impressed and retorts that then he can’t be held to his ancestor’s promise (I’m so proud of my son) and LMAO she gets sooooo angry and snaps that why did he came here if not to postrate his unworthy self before her (cuz she believes everything is about her it seems) Jon proceeds to explain the threat of the WW (ily Jon but you need to explain things better) Tyrion and D are reasonably disbelieving (I would have expected them have more of an open mind, I mean they have motherfucking Dragons ffs!! But I can understand an army of the dead sounds pretty crazy to be fair) and we get the summary of Danee’s arc and how she got this far by believing in herself (I’m more inclined to say it was the Dragons and sheer luck in having powerful resourceful advisors coming to you but ok).

Now I know I said I Love girls who empower themselves after being abused, so how come I dislike D@ne so if she is exactly that? Well I didn’t at first, I loved her and was rooting so hard for her 'till she decided that she was better than everyone else and became a conqueror and entitled to a boot, not a breaker of chains. She took the Unsullied for herself because she didn’t want the Dothrakis to pilliage and rape their way through Astapor, good! But why the need to take Astapor and then Mereen? If she were a hero (which I don’t think she is) she would have liberated the slaves without declaring herself ruler, she would have let them decide who they wanted to rule among themselves and would have helped them to come up with a new government, forming a friendly alliance maybe then they even would have helped her in her quest to go back to Westeros, instead of violently taking the power (and no I’m not defending the masters at all, but I do think the mereenese people deserved to have a say in how they wanted to be ruled now that they were free) Since I was little I was taught the spanish took my country with fire and blood, weapons my people couldn’t defend themselves against, they took away their culture, religion and their names. They were forced to work with no pay, murdered, raped (our last tlatoani/leader/king Cuahutemoc got his feet burned when the spanish were interrogating him about aztec gold) and tortured for 300 years, and in my 6yo heart I hated it, of course I don’t hate nor recent the Spanish people for their (and also mine because I have spanish blood as well as aztec and egyptian) ancestor’s deeds, but I hated that people thought they were better than other people, and that they felt entitled to take lands that were not theirs, I hated to imagine the suffering of my people, I hated to know we could never fully understand all the amazing culture and knowledge the mesoamerican cultures had because they decided their way was better and burned or buried most of it, and D@€ny reminds me of all that, and it doesn’t let me enjoy her even as a Villian or Fallen Hero.

(excuse my rant and feel totally free to ignore it)

Dadvos just can’t with her bullshit and he says Jon has done a lot of similar things but without Dragons. Honestly the best way to explain it is with the 'but did you die?’ gif, and supports Jon’s testimony about the WW.

And D@€ny is like yeah but the throne is MINE and if you don’t agree you are against me (lovely way to make more enemies,yup be antagonistic pls) Jon loses it and says she and all the Lords and Ladies of Westeros are FUCKING children fighting for a chair when a real threat is just around the corner and they aren’t going to care who is the rightful anything.

She is so ofended its hillarious xD, she asks Tyrion what she is supposed to do since he refuses to acknowledge her as Qinn of the 7 realms, and he called her a child (well Dañy what did you expect when you have only acted as such?) and Tyrion is like well he said we were ALL children tbh in a very non-commital way.

Jon and Davos are dismissed, and my baby asks if he is her priosioner, 'not yet’ she says, and hold me because Imma knock some sense into her.

———-

Tis too long, I’ll continue in part 2.

#Game of thrones #Season 7 recap #7x03 recap #Pt. 1 #anti daenerys #feel completely free to ignore me #*screaming into the void*#dachi's fangirly rants #dachi rambles

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dust2dust34 · 7 years

Text

Pieces of Always: August 2032 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34

Summary: Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for the amazing beta!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note, as well as under the cut for an additional one.

A/N: I am taking more of a beta role for right now. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is taking the drafting lead and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love! (Especially because Ameliam is pure fire omg.)

Excerpt:

He looks from Nate back to where the brunette - Amelia - had been standing, but she’s moved. In fact, she’s walking right toward them. For a long, long moment, Will’s aware of absolutely nothing else but the woman striding his direction. Or… actually, maybe it’s Nate’s direction, he realizes when she reaches them and holds out her mug for Nate to pour her some coffee. The kid is more than pleased to do exactly that. It’s sort of silly.

“Thanks,” she says with a grin at Nate. “You have been a most excellent helper and absolutely played a part in our success today.”

Nate’s awfully proud of himself at the proclamation, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders as he nods crisply at Amelia, but her eyes drift over to Will as she takes a deep sip of her scalding hot, very black coffee.

“Congratulations,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into her mug.

“You know that’s not what most people would consider a celebratory drink,” he tells her. He doesn’t really mean to make his voice go gritty and check her out while he says it, but that happens anyhow.

God damn but that blouse should be illegal on her. It’s not even especially low cut, but the way that silk clings to her chest, he just… yeah he’s been looking too long.

(read on AO3)

August 2023 - A Swing And A Miss

For a guy who’d been dumped that morning, Will’s in a really great mood. To be fair, it had been less the end of a relationship and more an inevitable moving on, a satisfying last page at the end of a short book, and he doesn’t regret how things went in the least.

Addy had been fun. He’d liked hanging out with her and the sex had really been pretty damned good, but he’d never once deluded himself into thinking they’d keep up pretenses once she went back to Central City for her senior year of college. He hadn’t even wanted it to. He’s got enough going on in his life. He doesn’t need an actual girlfriend. Casual dating and short term hookups are, in his experience, the way to go.

Work takes up the bulk of his time, but it’s his family that has most of his focus. Ever since the accident that took his mom’s life and left Bethy in the hospital for weeks back in February, he’s grounded himself in being more present for his family, for both sides of it.

He’s the only link Bethy will ever have to her mom. She’s too little to even remember her and his stepfather absolutely needs the help. But he’s also more aware than most that life is short and unpredictable - as a firefighter, he sees that every day - and the life his dad and stepmom choose to lead puts them more in harm’s way than most. So, it seems like such an easy choice to prioritize his relationships with his siblings and parents over anything more transient that he might find with a girl.

“Will!” a little voice shouts from the back seat of his car, as if to underscore his thoughts. “Want yum yums.”

“Hold on, Bethy,” he tells her, maneuvering his car into a parking spot at city hall and grabbing the diaper bag he keeps on hand. If you’d asked him a year ago, he would never have guessed he’d have a car seat in his car and a repurposed gym bag full of diapers and teething rings. But that’s life. And, as much as he misses his mom, he can’t imagine his life going any other way, now. “Want some applesauce?” he asks, catching his two-year-old sister’s eye in the series of mirrors set up so he can check on her in her rear-facing seat even while he drives. She’s almost big enough to turn it around, which sort of blows him away. It feels like just last week she’d kept him up all night with colic and he’d escaped to his dad’s house instead of dealing with it.

“Yes!” she declares happily, making grabby hands back toward him.

“Give me a second to open it, squirt,” he says, unscrewing one of those miraculous applesauce pouches that even a two-year-old rarely makes a mess with. It’s out of his hands the instant the treat is within Bethy’s reach and she hums happily as she sucks down the applesauce with gusto. “You could’ve said ‘thanks,’ you know.”

The scolding is halfhearted at best, though, because she grins hugely around the nozzle of the applesauce and, damn it, Will is a sucker for all of his siblings. It probably helps that Bethy looks just like his mom and that socks him right in the gut, because wow... he misses her.

But he’s got people in the here and now that need him, and he can’t allow himself to be anywhere but the present.

“Alright, let’s get moving before we’re late,” he says, mostly to himself, as he unbuckles and grabs the diaper bag. He really should get a real one. Swapping out sippy cups for gym socks is getting old. But, it works for now. He slips out of his absurdly reasonable, top-safety-rated car and opens the back door, getting to work unfastening Bethy from her seat.

“Wanna play,” Bethy says to him as he works. She makes her eyes utterly huge as she says it and blinks with an innocence she absolutely does not possess. If Will hadn’t been so much older than his other siblings, if he couldn’t remember so clearly when Jules and Ellie and Nate had pulled that same damned look, he might have bought it. But he’s grown up around little kids and he’s well aware that Bethany knows precisely what she’s doing.

Besides, they’ve already got plans.

“Soon,” he promises her. “We’ve got fun plans today, squirt, but we’ve gotta do something first.”

“Wanna play!” Bethy shouts with increasing annoyance.

“Then be a good girl and we will,” Will tells her sternly with a firm look. He might be a sucker for his siblings, but he’s not about to be a pushover. His stepfather caves with Bethy way too much as it is. He’s not going to follow in those footsteps and the sooner his baby sister learns that, the better.

“I good,” Bethy tells him, her little face crumpling. She doesn’t cry, though, and he’s so grateful for that that it’s almost absurd. Bethy’s wail sounds like a dying animal and it never fails to set every nerve on edge.

“Glad to hear it,” he tells her, lifting her up from the seat and resting her on his hip as he shuts the car. “Let’s keep it that way so we can play and have fun later, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she agrees, chewing on the nozzle to her applesauce.

He hefts her up a bit, getting a better hold as the two of them head up the steps toward the entrance to City Hall. A grimace pulls at his lips as he jogs up the steps, keen to get this over with as fast as possible. He hates coming here. It leaves him feeling like he’s at a disadvantage, like he’s off-kilter. And, in some ways, he is.

His estranged grandmother has been mayor for fourteen of the last eighteen years. She’s powerful, beloved by the city and her staff, and being here, being on her home turf… it makes Will feel petty. It makes him feel like he’s being childish for holding on to a lifelong grudge against an old woman.

But Moira Queen is anything other than helpless and it would be a dire mistake to see her as weak. She is a master of manipulation and public opinion. Will knows better than to give her an inch because she’ll take a mile in return and make you feel like you asked her to do it.

So… maybe he had offered to pick Bethy up an hour or two early today. A toddler makes for an awesome excuse and buffer all in one. And, the fact that his little sister is the spitting image of his mother gives Will a bit of a boost, too. If anything in this world had ever been able to make Moira Queen uneasy, it was absolutely his mom. Will learned years ago not to face off against his grandmother without a plan.

Which is why he’s pushing his way through the glass doors to City Hall armed with a toddler.

Much to his chagrin, he’s been here frequently enough that he knows his way around the building and the guy working the front desk just waves him through without question.

They take the elevator entirely because Bethy likes to push all of the buttons. It’ll probably annoy the hell out of whoever gets in there next, but Will doesn’t so much care about that. He does care about the way Bethy’s eyes brighten in delight as she makes the buttons for each floor light up.

“Oh, not that one, squirt,” he says, pulling her hand back as she reaches for the alarm. “All the others are fine, but let’s leave that one be.”

“Red button,” she declares, reaching for it again.

“Very good,” he tells her, grabbing her fingers and kissing them as he steps back just far enough that she can’t inadvertently set off the building alarms. “It’s red. Good job. Super proud of you for knowing that. How’d you get so big?”

She blows a raspberry at him instead of answering with words, which feels like the most appropriate punctuation possible for a two-year-old.

When the elevator dings a moment later - they’d only been going one floor - he steps out into a flurry of activity. That’s not incredibly unusual around his grandmother’s office, but also feels more orderly than usual and he pauses to soak in the environment for a moment.

Two people look like a well-oiled machine as they put together binders in tandem. There’s a few people on phones who appear to be communicating whatever they’ve accomplished through a series of intricate hand gestures that Will can’t quite seem to figure out as a tall woman with dark hair taps something into a tablet.

“Hey, Will.” He turns to the side to see his ten-year-old little brother nearby with a coffee carafe. “You’re early,” Nate continues, glancing up at a clock. He keeps walking, though, never breaks stride as he refills the cup of someone on the phone. “I can’t leave yet. They need me.”

“No,” the brunette woman with the tablet says sharply, pulling his attention over to her. She’s not talking to him or Nate, though, she’s talking to someone on one of the phones. “Give me that.” She leans over the guy’s desk and takes the phone from his hand. “Jack? Hey, this is Amelia. You’re gonna want to rethink that position… Uh, no, not because the mayor said to - though she did - but because I said to. Do you really want to be the lone holdout on the council, because believe me if you stick with this position, you will be.”

Will just stares at her as she works. He’s not the only one. Both of the other people on the phones have finished their calls and the binder-assembly crew has paused to watch her, too. Nate seems like he’s the only one still working, playing the part of a barista for everyone there. Will’s not sure how, though, because this woman is… she’s a force of nature, captivating, and he can’t pull his eyes away from her even though Bethy is pulling on his collar in a way that digs into his neck.

“Don’t even try that with me, Jack,” she continues, shaking her head. She’s leaning so far over the desk that she’s practically climbed atop it. Her respectable-length skirt has ridden up to just-this-side-of-unacceptable levels and her silk blouse is… it’s draping very nicely and Will’s more than a little envious of the eyeful that the guy she’d taken the phone from must be getting. “If you want the mayor to play with you on cap-and-trade, you’re going to support the Every Family Home initiative… Jack… Jack… It’s not a debate, Jack! I’m telling you how it is…. Yes… Yes, I’m authorized to offer that…. Don’t even try that with me, you know we can pass this without you, but the mayor wants a unified front and you’re going to give it to her because you really, really want to keep your seat and it would help you a whole lot if your very popular mayor were pictured in the paper shaking your hand and thanking you for putting aside politics for the good of the city’s homeless population, wouldn’t it?”

There’s a long moment of silence where the brunette’s face turns a gorgeous but frustrated shade of red. Will feels sort of suspended in time as he watches her, but that might be because no one other than Nate and Bethy are moving. Most of them don’t seem to even be breathing.

But then the brunette starts talking again and it’s with a fury that’s both fierce and a little blinding.

“I swear on the damned city charter, Jack, that if you do not back the mayor on this, I am going to find whoever is running against you and I will run their campaign for free,” she swears, before cocking her head to the side and pausing, amending her statement. “No, you know what? If you don’t back it, I’m going to run against you myself. It’s not really what I want to do, but we both know I can kick your ass from here to election day. So here’s what it comes down to - do you help a whole lot of homeless citizens improve their lives and earn yourself the mayor’s thanks or do you have me as a thorn in your side for the rest of your political career?”

The slow grin that works its way across her face is visible from across the room and Will feels like someone pulled the rug out from underneath him. She was pretty before, sexy as hell, but that smile… holy shit.

“Aw, you know you love me, Jack,” she’s saying, scooting back off the desk and straightening her skirt. “What was it you said was your favorite thing about me? Was it my ‘gumption?’ ...Mmm, maybe just not when it’s focused on you. Give Cecile and the girls my best. I’m gonna go and let the mayor know she has your full-throated support.”

A second later, she’s holding the phone skyward with a booming “And that is how you get Jack Baker’s backing, boys and girls!”

There’s a lot of excitement around the room then, a couple of cheers and someone gives her a literal pat on the back. A flush of triumph has worked its way across her cheeks and she’s just… she’s absolutely captivating.

“Amelia’s awesome,” Nate says suddenly, as if reading Will’s thoughts. He hadn’t even realized his little brother was standing next to him. “She’s crazy fierce and she knows how to get things done. Grandma says she’s the best. She’s not chief of staff, but I bet she will be some day. I’m pretty sure it’s only because she hasn’t been done with college very long.”

“Thanks,” she says with a grin at Nate. “You have been a most excellent helper and absolutely played a part in our success today.”

“Congratulations,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into her mug.

God damn but that blouse should be illegal on her. It’s not even especially low cut, but the way that silk clings to her chest, he just… yeah he’s been looking too long.

“Are you flirting with me while holding a toddler?” she asks with blatant amusement as she sets her coffee cup down on a nearby desk.

Nate huffs and walks off somewhere, grumbling about girls and how this is an important place of business. Personally, Will can’t wait for his little brother to discover an interest in the fairer sex because wow is he gonna have fun throwing things back at the kid one day.

“That depends entirely on if it’s working,” Will replies with a smirk.

She’s interested, that much is obvious immediately. Will’s very, very good at picking up on body language and between the way her pupils dilate and the way the silk blouse absolutely does not hide her nipples tightening in the least, she’s particularly easy to read. That he manages to keep his groan internal at the sight is something of a personal triumph.

“Might work better if you didn’t have applesauce all over your neck,” she replies. Her tone is playful and she’s staring at his adam’s apple as she licks her lips. He swallows hard, because he feels her gaze so strongly that she might as well be touching him. A riot of shivers sets out across his skin and he feels like she’s stroking every damned nerve ending he’s got. He can’t remember the last time a woman had him so utterly drawn in so quickly. Had that ever happened?

“Don’t like kids?” he asks as Bethy lays her head on his shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I love kids,” she corrects, giving the toddler a gentle smile. “I’m just not used to being hit on by guys holding their…” her voice drifts off expectantly.

“Little sister,” he supplies, his lopsided grin growing by leaps and bounds at the proclamation.

“Ah,” she notes, giving Bethy another smile. “So you’re on double-duty for the big brother role today, then?”

“I am most days, when I’m not working,” he agrees. “Family’s important to me.”

“Right,” she breathes out, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She’s trying to find a flaw. He can see that. He’s got plenty of them, frankly, but so far he’s passing her quiet tests with flying colors. “So… what is it you do that you aren’t at work at 4:30 on a Thursday?”

“I’m a firefighter,” he replies, smiling at her in earnest. He can feel the edges of his eyes crinkling in amusement. They only deepen when she makes a little noise in the back of her throat.

“A firefighter?” she asks.

“Starling City Fire and Rescue Station 52,” he confirms. “And as someone who’s responded to two calls in the last month involving homeless residents who collapsed with easily treatable illnesses, I’m very grateful for the work you’re doing to help get people off the streets and back on their feet.”

“Well,” Amelia says a bit more soberly, brushing some hair behind her ear. “It’s your grandmother’s initiative. So, maybe it’s her you should thank. I just work here.”

“My grandmother…” he echoes, feeling a bit like ice water is slipping down his spine.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “You know, your grandmother. The mayor.”

“Right,” he bites out. Suddenly it feels like there’s an enormous expanse between them, but somehow that does nothing at all to dim the way she manages to send a zing of attraction right through him without even trying. “So… you know who I am, then.”

She laughs at that, light and disbelieving as she shakes her head. “Will Queen, I knew who you were the first time we met. I definitely remember it now.”

Well, that throws him for a loop. Suddenly he’s wracking his brain because he could not possibly forget this girl. She stands apart from every woman he’s ever met and he’s pretty sure she’s not even trying. But… but nothing registers.

“The first time?” he asks.

She chuckles and looks to the side, leaving him staring at her profile. She’s beautiful from every angle, he finds, and he wants to see more of her, make her laugh with a completely different tone than she is right now, because right now he feels like he’s not in on the joke.

“We were both camping,” she says as she looks back, taking pity on him. “That’s how I got this job. Your dad put me in touch with your grandmother’s office.”

“You were putting up a tent,” he realizes, as he looks at her in a whole new light. He feels like maybe he’s seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. “You washed your hair in the river.”

She pauses at that before tilting her head in agreement. There’s nothing overt, but something in her eyes is obviously pleased at being remembered and he’s hit with the sudden sense that he’d missed something back then, that he’d gone left when he should have gone right, and he doesn’t know quite how to backpedal.

“I did,” she agrees quietly. “And then I walked back to the campsite with one of my friends to give you and my other friend, Maggie, some space.”

Maggie… he doesn’t remember her. He has a vague recollection of dark hair and soft lips and long legs, but none of it means anything. It’s all indistinct, ill-formed in his mind’s eye. Amelia, though… Amelia he remembers. He remembers the way the air felt charged with expectation when their eyes met, just like it does now. He remembers her rising up out of the water like some kind of siren, dark wet hair trailing behind her and a soaked, pale blue lace bra that hid nothing.

It’s this very instant that he knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that he made the wrong choice that day. There’s something here, something he’s only found maybe once before, with his ex-girlfriend Allison back in college. He’s not really looking for that kind of depth right now. He’s not sure if he even has room for that in his life, but maybe… maybe for the right woman… maybe if it were real...

“I’ll tell her you said hi, if you like,” Amelia offers, pulling him back to the moment.

“Who?” he asks, because everyone other than Amelia has faded well into the background at this point.

“Maggie,” she replies a bit incredulously.

“Oh… Sure,” he says easily with a shrug. “If you want to. Tell her I hope she’s doing well.”

“Did you want me to pass along your number…” Amelia fishes.

“Actually, I’d rather you keep it for yourself,” he tells her.

She sucks in a ragged breath and raises one eyebrow as her gaze locks heavily with his. It feels like the temperature in the room goes up at least a few degrees and lightning chases something across the expanse of his skin. He wants… he wants something. He doesn’t even know what, but he wants something with this woman.

“That’s a bad idea,” she replies in a near-whisper.

“And why’s that?” he asks, shuffling forward half a step, edging ever-so-slightly into her personal space. She absolutely does not back up in the least. In fact, if he’s not mistaken, she leans inward just a bit.

“Conflict of interest,” she supplies. “I work for your grandmother. You’re a Queen. You’re…”

“I’m…?” he prods.

“Someone my best friend saw first,” Amelia points out. “And most definitely called dibs on.”

“I can debunk all of those reasons,” he offers. “If you’re interested.”

“I’m interested in you trying,” she replies. They’re scarcely a foot apart. Bethy’s weight against his shoulder redoubled some time in the last few minutes and he knows without even looking that the toddler’s fallen asleep. It’s just as well, he’s grateful not to have her interference at the moment.

“First of all, I don’t have any kind of relationship with my grandmother, so that’s not really a point of contention,” he starts.

“Isn’t it?” she asks.

“It’s not for me. Won’t be for her. Doesn’t have to be for you,” he tells her before moving on. “Secondly, I’m a Queen, but I was a Clayton first. Neither the public nor the press look at me the same way as the rest of my father’s family because I’m the bastard borne from my father’s youthful indiscretions. Now, my family doesn’t see it that way, but the rest of society? They do.”

“Their loss,” she tells him.

“It doesn’t bother me,” he shrugs. “It never has. I know who I am and I know my place in my family. The rest doesn’t matter.”

“And Maggie?” Amelia asks curiously.

“Expiration date,” Will tells her.

“I’m sorry?” Amelia laughs. He wants to taste it. He wants to kiss her while she’s laughing, feel the vibration of her amusement against his lips, breathe it in, let it soak into his soul. What the hell is this? How can he - on sight - feel this much toward this woman?

“Dibs has expired by now,” he tells her, the words coming out heavy and affected. “I didn’t sleep with your friend. I didn’t date her. Whatever she and I had is long over and you and I… you and I haven’t even started yet.”

Her breath catches and she stares at his lips, running her tongue over her teeth. He absolutely cannot help the strangled noise that gets stuck in his throat at the sight of that and if he weren’t holding Bethy, he’s pretty sure he’d step forward, rest a hand on her cheek and test exactly where they stand.

But he is holding Bethy.

And beyond that, they’re in her workplace and they’re absolutely not alone.

“William.”

The voice shifts everything on a dime. He steps back, feels steel working its way down his spine as he grits his teeth and turns slightly.

“Grandmother,” he greets. His voice is all chilly, hard edges that are impossible to miss.

“I understand you’re here to pick up your brother,” she supplies primly. Nate’s at her side, looking incredibly proud to be a part of a grown-up conversation. He absolutely misses the nuances of Will’s relationship with their grandmother, such as it is. He’s only ten. He doesn’t get it yet. “You look well.”

“I am,” Will grits out.

“Glad to hear it,” she replies. Her hair is entirely silver these days, but she still looks much the same as Will remembers from the first time he met her. She’s stately, his grandmother. Composed. He’d give almost anything to watch that composure shatter, to see her express something, anything, showing that she regretted in the least what she’d done. To him, to his father, to their entire family. But she never has. She never will. And Will is not the sort to ever let that go. His stubbornness, ironically, seems to have come from her. “And you’re still working that job with the firehouse?”

“I’m a firefighter,” he snaps at her, incredulity slipping across his features. “It’s not an after-school hobby. It’s my career.”

“Honestly, William,” she chides. “I was only making conversation.”

“Not very well,” he bites back.

“Fine,” she replies, holding her head high. “Forgive my attempt at civility. How dare I be so bold as to attempt to talk to you.”

“You and I have nothing to talk about,” he grits out.

He holds her stare for an abnormally long time, right up until Nate sighs heavily and draws both of their attention. Will immediately feels bad when he sees his little brother’s crestfallen face. This isn’t fair to him. All he’s ever known of Moira Queen was a grandmother who doted on his existence every moment of his life. She’s encouraged him, been proud of him, made absolutely no secret that he’s her favorite - even if she’s never said so outright. Nate’s never had to wonder why his grandmother never thought he was even worth knowing. He doesn’t remember being five-years-old and crying in the corner of his kindergarten class because every other kid’s dad had shown up for the family picnic. That’s not his reality. And as much as Will cannot stand his grandmother, he also can’t begrudge Nate the positive relationship he has with her.

“Sorry, kid,” Will tells Nate, squeezing his shoulder and pulling him closer in a one-armed hug. Nate relaxes a little bit immediately. He’s such a tactile kid, so eager for affection. Even just a half of a hug seems to mean the world to him. “You have a good time?”

“Yes,” Nate says, looking up at him with suddenly bright eyes. “I learned a lot. I don’t like politics, but it’s very important to understand for business. If I’m gonna run QI one day, I need a good background.”

Will grins down at the boy. He’s so serious. Will’s pretty sure he’s never been that serious in his entire life, but definitely not when he was ten-years-old. “You’re gonna run the world one day, kid,” he tells Nate, ruffling his carefully combed hair as the younger boy bats his hand away. “But for now, I think maybe you’ve had enough career-prep. How about we go do something fun and way more age-appropriate than interning in the mayor’s office over summer break?”

Nate looks suspicious of this suggestion, his eyes narrowing as Will chuckles. “Like what?” he asks with more skepticism than any soon-to-be fifth-grader should be capable of.

“You don’t want it to be a surprise?” Will asks.

“Am I the sort of person who usually likes surprises?” he asks, raising both eyebrows. That’d be a firm ‘no.’ In that way, and in so many others, Nate is very much like his mother.

“Fine,” Will relents, shaking his head affectionately. “I thought we’d hit the county fair. It’s a short walk from here. We can ride a few rides, grab some incredibly unhealthy dinner and catch the fireworks before we head home.”

The look on Nate’s face makes it very clear that he can’t decide how he feels about this idea. He’s a good kid, but sometimes he forgets to just be a kid. Will’s recently decided it’s his personal mission to act like an elementary schooler while he still is one.

“You can help me win Bethy a stuffed animal and we can gorge ourselves on cotton candy,” Will points out. Nate’s weak spot is sweets, always has been, and Will knew before he even said it that an offer of cotton candy would earn him Nate’s agreement.

And, sure enough, his face lights up at the idea. “The blue kind?” he asks, as if that makes a difference.

“Any kind you want,” Will tells him, grin spreading from ear to ear as he watches his little brother’s growing delight.

“You don’t want to have too many sweets, though.”

God, but his grandmother’s voice grates on Will’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Can’t she just let anything go? Can’t she just let Nate be a damned kid.

“I thought maybe I’d just buy him his own cotton candy machine,” Will tells her tightly. “He can keep it in his room and make as much as he wants on demand.”

“There’s no call for sarcasm, William,” she berates. Her tone makes it seem like she’s talking down to him. She has a way of doing that, of making him feel six years old all over again, hiding in his father’s kitchen and listening to him tell his grandmother that no, no she cannot see him because his mother isn’t here and he made her a promise.

His grandmother had used that same tone on his dad. And Will… Will hadn’t understood then. His mom’s parents both died when he was too little to remember them and the idea of a grandmother, in his head, had been someone who’d bake cookies with him and push him on the swings at the park. But Moira Queen is not the cookie baking-type. At least not with him. Will had learned that the hard way.

“I’m surprised you recognize it,” Will tells her dryly. “Isn’t sarcasm a bit too close to humor for you?”

“William Clayton,” she says sharply. “I expect considerably mo-”

“Queen,” he corrects, cutting her off abruptly. His voice is as cold as ice, which is sort of incredible because his blood is absolutely boiling. Nate laces their fingers together, a silent show of solidarity that Will desperately needs. Nate helps. Bethy, her soft little puffs of breath against his neck as she slumbers on… she helps too, in her own way. He is very present with his family in this moment, regardless of his grandmother’s words. “Despite your very best efforts, I am a Queen. I am my father’s son and you do not have the right to take that away from me.”

“Of course you are,” she replies in a hushed voice. It’s the first time in his life he can remember her looking uneasy. Color drains from her face and her head is dipped almost deferentially. Will’s not sure what to do with that. “I misspoke. Your name was Clayton. Old habits die hard, I’m afraid. You’re obviously a part of this family and I would never do anything to try and distance you from it.”

With those words, any trace of goodwill that her discomfort might have earned her absolutely evaporates. The nerve of her…

“Forgive me, but if that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, would we?” he asks.

His point is utterly undeniable and his grandmother simply holds her chin high and stares at him with silent defiance. Will doesn’t care. At least that’s what he tells himself. He gave up on his grandmother more than a decade ago and it would be foolish to expect anything to change now.

“I don’t have to have cotton candy,” Nate says in a tiny voice. Will looks down to find his little brother glancing between him and their grandmother uneasily. “It’s not that big a deal. Even if they have the blue kind. I don’t want you to be upset at each other, so we can just skip it.”

“No way,” Will tells him, kneeling down so he can see Nate eye-to eye. It’s awkward with Bethy asleep and Nate’s actually a bit taller than him when he squats, apparently. When had that happened? Is he growing again? No wonder he always wants snacks. “No way. This wasn’t about you and it wasn’t about cotton candy, okay? Everybody wants you to have fun. Nobody’s mad at you, okay? Not your grandmother and certainly not me.”

“I’m not upset with you,” Moira agrees. Her voice is thick and her smile forced, but Nate doesn’t seem to notice. “You should enjoy your time with your brother. Everyone deserves a bit of a treat now and then.”

“You did good work today,” Amelia chimes in. “You should take a break, reward yourself.”

Will hadn’t forgotten she was there. He’s entirely too aware of her presence for that. But he had sort of overlooked that she’d been an uncomfortable witness to his ongoing spat with his grandmother. In theory, that should make things incredibly awkward. In practice, it doesn’t quite play out that way. He glances up at her to find her already watching him. There’s no mistaking the way her breathing speeds up or the way she hesitates a beat before smiling kindly at Nate.

Judging from the quiet hum from his grandmother, Will’s pretty sure he’s not the only one there to pick up on the oddly intense vibe between them.

Unfortunately.

“You did good work, too!” Nate declares, looking at Amelia with excitement. “You should come with!”

“I… I don’t…” Amelia starts.

“You should,” Will cuts in. His voice is soft as he looks up at her. “I’ll win you a stuffed animal, too.”

“But no cotton candy?” she asks with a hint of a grin.

“If it’ll make you really smile, you can have mine,” he replies. “Every last bite of it.”

Will ignores the disgruntled huff of annoyance from his side. He doesn’t give a damn about his grandmother’s opinion, but Amelia’s eyes dart her way quickly before meeting his gaze again.

He goes to stand up fully, but Bethy slips to the side and throws him off balance a little, making him stumble slightly. It’s Amelia’s hand that steadies him, reaching out and gripping his forearm. He must have scuffed his feet against the carpet at some point because there’s a literal shock that zaps him the moment her fingers graze his skin. It’s visible, a tiny little bolt of static electricity that leaves him sucking in an unsteady breath and staring at her in blatant surprise.

He hasn’t kissed her yet, has barely even touched her, and the tension is so thick that it swamps the room, makes him feel like his head is swimming.

It’s amazing and he wants more of it.

“Come with us,” he says, some of his teasing nature falling to the wayside. He wants this so badly. There’s nothing to joke about with that.

But Amelia withdraws her hand like she’s been burned and takes a small step back. “I’m not exactly dressed for a county fair,” she points out.

“I’ll buy you a t-shirt,” he tells her.

“I doubt they sell shoes,” she replies, tilting her head down toward the heels that nearly put her eye level with him.

“I’ll carry you,” he grins.

She laughs and ducks her head, looking up at him through a curtain of dark hair and it’s… it’s so beautiful he forgets how to breathe for a moment. “Don’t you already have your hands full?” she asks, looking to Bethy.

“Piggy-back ride,” he suggests. He’s mostly kidding, but it earns him a full-throated laugh and Will has always been happy to look a bit foolish for the amusement of others. That’s most definitely true with Amelia.

“I can carry Bethy,” Nate chimes in. “I can even hold her while you guys go on the rides she can’t go on.”

Amelia’s laugh dies off, but she’s still smiling, a soft look of clear affection as she turns to Nate. It’s just like when she’d looked at Bethy and it strikes Will that she’d been telling the truth earlier. She really very much does like kids.

“It’s tempting,” she says. She looks quickly in Will’s direction. “But I have work I need to do.”

‘You’re tempting. But no,’ is what Will hears and his heart drops a little at the subtle rejection.

“But-” Nate starts. Will cuts him off, though, resting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. Nate’s too little to get the undercurrent of what’s going on and Will’s not going to push a woman who’s turned him down.

“Okay,” Will tells her. “Congratulations again on getting the support you needed. I hope you have a nice night.”

The way she watches him makes him think she might be reconsidering, but after a moment she says, “Thanks… It was good to see you again, Will.”

“You too, Amelia,” he agrees.

Every ounce of tension that’s been there still lingers, but it feels like they’re watching each other across a vast canyon right up until she turns and walks away. Will hits on a lot of girls and, though it works out in his favor more often than not, Amelia’s far from the first one to shoot him down. She is, however, the first to make him feel like he wishes he could rewind the last few minutes and try a different approach.

“You were right,” comes his grandmother’s dry voice. “You are your father’s son.”

It’s not a compliment.

Will bristles at the comment, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he glares his grandmother’s direction.

“Nate, darling,” she says, looking down at the boy only after she’s spoken. “Why don’t you run to my office and grab my purse for me? We can make this little afternoon trip of yours my treat.”

There’s clear confusion on Nate’s face, which is well-placed because it’s not like they have any need whatsoever for their grandmother to fund anything, but he does as he’s told. Because he’s Nate and the day he doesn’t listen to directions, Will is going to wonder what alternate universe he’s fallen into.

But his thoughts don’t linger on Nate long because the moment the boy’s out of earshot, Will’s grandmother is clearing her throat to earn his attention.

“Amelia is the most promising staffer I’ve ever had,” she tells him sharply.

“She seems more than competent,” Will agrees, wondering why the hell they’re having this conversation.

“The very last thing she needs is the distraction of a young man who thinks a two month fling is a long term commitment,” she clarifies.

Will absolutely cannot believe his ears. Defensiveness rises up, suffusing his entire body with annoyance and coiled up anger as he turns to face his grandmother fully.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he bites out.

“Don’t I?” she questions, quirking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Amelia is going places professionally. What she needs is someone like her, someone driven with ambition and purpose, not a boy offering piggy back rides to the carousel.”

“How about we let her decide what she needs,” Will snaps back.

“William,” his grandmother sighs with a tisk and a shake of her head. “She just did.”

She did.

It’s true.

But it’s also nowhere near as simple as his grandmother is making it sound, because when he glances Amelia’s direction, she’s staring back. He’s not about to approach her again. He took his shot and he’s not gonna nag. But it’s also not like she thought he was beneath her, not like his grandmother seems to be implying.

“Forgive me if I can’t take seriously the relationship advice coming from a woman who screwed the man who murdered her first husband.”

Moira Queen is a dangerous woman. She always has been. Will has never had any delusions about that, but it’s never been as obvious to the naked eye as the look of pure hatred that flashes across her features.

“You have no business bringing up Robert and Malcolm,” she hisses at him.

It’s appropriate. William’s always thought her a snake.

“And you have no business sticking your nose in my love life,” WIll counters. He’s not an imposing man, but he is taller than his grandmother and stepping into her personal space leaves him feeling like he’s looming over her. He hopes she feels the same way. “You and I share two things - a last name and a quarter of my DNA. That’s it. I put up with you because my father does. So, I will pass you the potatoes at holiday dinners and I will smile at you for my brother’s sake, but don’t for a second think you have any say over my life. You don’t even have my vote.”

Something solidifies in her eyes, a resolve he’s seen frequently from her in the face of adversity. But not like this. Not toward him.

Good.

It’s a whole lot more honest than any attempt at familial affection.

“Am I clear?” he asks.

“Perfectly,” she responds.

Nate, bless him, has fantastic timing, running up with his grandmother’s purse in hand almost immediately after the word leaves her mouth.

“I found it!” he says proudly, missing the undercurrent between them entirely, per usual, as he hands his grandmother her bag.

“Thank you, darling,” she tells him as she takes it and unzippers the front compartment, pulling out her wallet.

“You can keep it,” Will tells her, staying her hand. “I don’t want your money.”

“It’s for Nate,” she points out, giving him a heavy look. It’s meant to remind him that they try not to do this in front of Nate. They’re civil in his presence. He’s young and he misses a lot, but he’s not blind entirely. Sooner or later he’s going to figure out something deeper is going on and he’s going to want an explanation. But Will hasn’t forgotten these things, he just also isn’t willing to play by his grandmother’s rules anymore.

“Well, you can pay for him when you take him,” Will counters. “This is my treat. I have ‘that job at the firehouse,’ remember? I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t afford it.”

There’s his trust fund, too, of course, but he doesn’t touch that and his grandmother is well aware of it. He wants to make his own way and he doesn’t want any part of the fortune passed down by his grandparents.

“Fine,” she allows after a beat. There’s really nothing else she can say, after all. She turns to Nate and straightens his collar, not that it needs it. “Have a good time and listen to your brother,” she instructs, as if there had been any doubt he would follow Will’s rules. “Tell your sisters I said hello, will you?”

“Sure,” Nate agrees. “Thanks for letting me help today, Grandma.”

“It’s my pleasure, my hard little worker,” she says, cupping his cheeks and smiling with obvious affection. Will wonders if she means it. He wonders if she ever has.

“Wanna get out of here?” Will asks his brother. “You’re pretty tall these days. I wonder if they’ll let you on the Mountain of Doom yet.”

“Don’t be silly,” Nate smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not that big.”

It’s true. He’s not. But Will’s not going to give up until he’s got his baby brother laughing like the little kid he is and if that means a few teasing comments, he’s more than ready to play the part.

“My mistake,” Will deadpans. “I thought you were seventeen.”

“Will, you’re ridiculous,” Nate grins. It’s all teeth. “Jules is seventeen. I’m ten.”

“Are you sure you’re not twins?” Will says with mock seriousness. “I could swear you’re taller than her.”

“I am not!” Nate giggles.

And there it is.

His eyes are bright and his cheeks pink. He’s a little kid wearing a button-down collared shirt and volunteering to pour coffee at his grandmother’s office on his summer break. But, for a moment… for a moment he looks like the child he truly is. He’ll spend plenty of time inside offices one day. Will is sure of that much. It’s joy like this that he needs to make sure is also a big part of the kid’s experiences. There’s far more life than prepping binders and pouring coffee.

“Bye, Grandma!” Nate says cheerily, waving her way as he takes Will’s free hand and the two of them head back toward the elevator. He’s humming something happily beneath his breath. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but it makes Will let go of his hand to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer.

They step into the elevator and he catches Amelia’s eye again as he pushes the button for the ground floor. She smiles softly at him and he returns it. There’s an underpinning of regret, of longing, and for an instant he thinks maybe she’ll change her mind, maybe she’ll tell him to hold the elevator and hurry to join them.

But she doesn’t.

The door slides shut leaving him with his two youngest siblings and a full evening of fun planned for the immediate future. A huge part of him wishes she’d come with. He can picture it perfectly. Her sharp tongue sassing him as he misses the target in one of those games where he tries to win her a stuffed animal. Her stealing a bite of his cotton candy as he’s holding it and innocently proclaiming she’d done nothing. Her clinging to his arm as they race down some ridiculously steep ride… Her holding Bethy, looking at his baby sister like she’s the sweetest thing in the whole world. There’s a pang of longing for all of that, for what could have been if things had gone just a touch differently.

But they hadn’t. And that’s okay. It’s okay because Bethy sleeps soundly, resting against the curve of his bicep with a sense of comfort that he’s so very grateful to provide. It’s okay because Nate is humming and bouncing on his toes with bubbly excitement.

Will likes spending time with pretty, interesting, intelligent women. He likes it a lot. And Amelia… there’s something different about her that he wishes he’d had the chance to explore. But his focus - now and always - is on his family and he’s more than satisfied to be spending time with just Nate and Bethy. They need him and maybe… maybe he’d been right in the first place. Maybe his relationships with them are more important than they could ever be with a woman.

“Come on, Will!” Nate says with a growing sense of excitement, as the door to the elevator opens. “Let’s get going!”

“Let’s do it,” Will agrees, following in his little brother’s footsteps as he rushes out the door, leaving the office and everyone in it behind.

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