#at night she steals teeth and hair from billionaires

[jitterbugbear]

bubble bubble bunny 🫧

[the-raven-lady]

Elias Rushorik: The Character Bible

Name: Elias Rushorik [Ee-lee-us Ruh-shore-rik] (referred to by battle [first] name)

Legion + Role: Night Lord, Contekar Terminator

Age: ~100

Hair Color: Black with greying along his sideburns, hairline, and nape; warm undertone

Eye color: Black with corners of white, like a dog LEOPARD SEAL

Skin Color: Ashy pale white, cool undertones

Height: 7’11 (unarmored), 9’ (armored)

Build Type: Bulging muscle, like a bodybuilder. He looks greasy.

Primary Weapons: Escaton Power Claw and Volkite Cavitator

Long Description: A wall of an astartes, covered in scars and sinewy muscle that bulges like a dehydrated draft horse. He has a prominent facial scar: a tear in his lip exposing sharp teeth and part of his maxilla. His black hair is cropped short, usually, but it's been getting feathery as of recent. Some rumors say it's the influence of his personal serf that's been seen hanging off of his giant arm, others say he's just too busy to care. No one dare comment on an astartes strong enough and more than willing to grab another's skull and crush it in his fist. He's not a talker, preferring swift and brutal action to resolve his problems like a ‘proper’ Night Lord.

Role: Neutral Evil protagonist and owner to the serf insert.

Why they have that role, based on the characters core beliefs:

He just wanted someone to do the shit he doesn’t want to do (clean his room and armor), so he steals the first serf that does a good enough job (he ate the rest)

He did not expect the consequences that would come along with taking care of someone, like actually caring about them. He, unfortunately, cannot recognize the care for what it is.

Beliefs / Quirks / Flaws: 

Cannibalistic, mostly because he isn’t fed enough. The Night Lords are not generous with their feeding schedule and amounts, sometimes not even feeding their astartes, so dude won’t turn down a good meal. He also fell in love with the feeling of flesh between his teeth.

He’ll eat almost anything though and food is the way to his heart. Well, it won’t make him inherently like you, but he’ll tolerate you if you feed him. You might even be able to bribe him with enough.

Everything is a transaction to him. “What do I get out of this?” He always wants to exit those transactions with the upper hand compared to the other party or parties involved, but it still makes him vulnerable to being bribed.

He likes having his ego stroked, but he isn’t stupid enough to fall for ego manipulation from his brothers. 

His serf, however,,,,, yeah, he doesn’t even recognize he’s being played

He isn’t lazy, just spoiled. He can and will put effort into attaining the things he wants.

If he gets bored enough, he’ll bully people, but it’s not usually lethal (unless he’s angry or hungry). 

Ex: Shoving his serf into the shower and blasting it on cold

Never shows his soft underbelly or any weaknesses openly, but if others do it to him, he will take advantage of it or clock that information away for later. He is used to others seeing any cracks in his armor as something to be exploited, so he naturally does the same.

His treatment of the serf is the embodiment of doing something good for a bad reason; the billionaire building an orphanage because he gets to name it after himself still built an orphanage. Elias’s brand of charity is the exact same. His serf is healthy and looks the best, which makes him look better. Other Night Lords want to steal her, which gives him both an ego boost and an excuse to take out his more violent tendencies while getting food and looking strong. It’s a win-win for him to put the effort into her.

He just didn’t expect to get actually attached, and because he doesn’t recognize that attachment as what it is, it’s incredibly unhealthy. She’s a prized possession, not a person.

Elias is never not going to see the serf as his property– it isn’t who he is to be empathetic. He does begin to care, in a warped sense. He chalks feelings like caring for his serf up to the same way he cares about his presentation. It’s for the betterment of himself. 

Greedy. He does not share. This includes with the other Night Lords and with the serf. His brothers cannot have his serf, and his serf cannot just have his bed (stop asking)

When he does ‘share’ or provide, it's always for his own gain. The gifts he gives to the serf are not given out of selflessness, but because he wants her to:

Recognize how capable he is (“Look at everything I can offer because of my status.”)

Realize that she's nothing without him (“You would return to feasting on vermin without me.”)

Perform at her best (“Why is there a speck of dust on my power pack? I gave you a coloring book last week, you should be efficient.”)

Disgusted by the actions of his battle brothers whilst being a massive hypocrite. He dislikes them indulging in torture that doesn’t have a reason behind it, finding the practice wasteful of energy that can be put into other avenues. Total boomer about this too. “Back in my day, we had a reason for flaying people alive”. He still uses the common Night Lord terror tactics when in battle and is genuinely no better than his brothers then. He’s just old and elitist.

Motivations: 

Obsessed with his self image and reputation to a fault in the, “Everyone just needs to remember that I am not to be fucked with,” way. Can and will prove that he is not to be fucked with to anybody that isn’t like, First Captain Sevatar or the Night Haunter.

He keeps the serf happy and healthy because he views her as an extension of himself: she’s his possession, and therefore she needs to be as perfect as he is. Well fed, well groomed, and overall healthy. He protects her the way he protects all of his things. It also makes him feel good that his brothers want his things (the serf), and gives him a sense of power that they cannot have them.

Kills because he has to maintain his power / image. He doesn’t see murder as a ‘necessary evil’; he literally just doesn’t care that people have to die. Everyone is a pawn in the game. He is going to win it.

Who they were raised to be vs who they are/are becoming: 

One of the rich Nostraman brats when Night Haunter came to reign as the Dark King. Elias wasn’t the inherently bloodthirsty type, just greedy and spoiled.

Joined the Night Lords at 12 in 896.M30 because he was sick of being forced to live like the common folk. Not the best decision he’s made, but he won’t admit to his mistakes.

Worked his way into being a Contekar because it gave him back some of his luxuries. He’s one of the first waves of Night Lords taken from Nostramo before it started being just any random criminal or street rat being let in, and he is super elitist about it.

How they feel about themselves and how it affects their behavior: 

He has a moderate lisp from the hole in his lip, which he is self-conscious about to the point that he doesn’t speak unless it's necessary.

Self-important, which makes his possessions also important to him. If someone messes with his possessions, they’re messing with him and his image, and he won’t stand for that. Some of the rags of flesh on his armor are from former brothers for this reason.

Fun Facts:

He may hate cleaning up after himself, but he does like tinkering with designs for his armor. He processes the hides and does basic repairs on his own (because, “no one would do them better.”)

Foodie. No, he will not verbally admit to this. Bring him the steak anyway.

Unlike most astartes, he did not change his name after his conversion.

Elias is prideful of a family he doesn't even really remember (after everything he went through to become a space marine) and who now are long dead. He has shaped his entire identity over being the best of what Nostramo could offer. If he lets go of his pride, he has nothing. No identity, no reason. Nothing.

Due to the above, when Nostramo was destroyed in 984.M30, he defected from the Night Lords. His face has not been seen since.

I wasn't going to drop this until after the series was finished, but I have been so busy with college recently that I don't know when that will be. I hope you enjoyed.

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual 

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender @historitor-bookshelf

@sharenadraculea @remembrancer-of-heresy @avggendelmain @cannibalise

[supercorpkid]

A normal day in the Luthor-Danvers house.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 1780.

“So then, I took my glasses off, and I swear it was not intentional, but my heat vision went off and I-I blew it right off of Lena’s hand. Man, she was pissed.” You smile and Jamie tries to hold a laughter and it comes out like a squeaky noise.

“Damn. Not a dull moment in the Karlena house.” She recovers herself and smiles to the ground while you consider what she just said.

“Karlena?” You furrow your brows, confused.

“Karlena, duh. Kara plus Lena.” She explains like you didn’t understand in the first place. That wasn’t the problem, you understood.

“What? Jamie, that’s terrible. We all know SuperCorp is like, a lot better.” You wave her off. “Besides, we do have dull moments. It’s not everyday we’re fighting aliens, destroying things or inventing things. Some days we just… Exist.”

“Oh, please. You three wouldn’t know what it’s like to just ‘exist’ if it hit you in the face.” Jamie crosses her legs and arms like she is trying to impose her thought. Sure, most of the times the things that happen with your family are not something people can relate to, but it’s not like you’re aliens… Wait. Nevermind.

“Excuse me.” You try to sound offended. “I admit we’ve been through a lot.”

“Mhm.” She strongly agrees with her head.

“But we’re still pretty much normal most of the time.”

“I think it’s cute you’re trying to convince me that, like I don’t know everything about you and your moms.” She gives a pretentious smile. “But if it will make you feel any better… Why don’t you tell me about the next ‘normal’ day you guys have?”

“Ok, mhm, sure.” You agree with your head taking this as a challenge. And you’re not one to back out from a challenge. “Next time we have a normal day, I’ll tell you all about it, and you’ll see we’re just another normal family.” As soon as your finish with the sentence, you see Maya coming at your direction and both of you just change the subject immediately.

“Hey cuties.” She says with a smile, and you push your bag to the side so you can make room for her on your lunch table. “You cool?”

You give her a nod, and a quick kiss, before looking at Jamie and thinking about the conversation. She wants normal? You will show her normal.

It is very annoying to you that it takes a whole week before you can declare one day as a normal one. And this is a normal day around your house, you know, one filled with dull moments:

“Kid, time to get up.” Kara knocks on your door serving, as always, as your wake-up call. You roll to the side, not getting up, wanting five more minutes.

And as always, five minutes later:

“Come on, babygirl. School. Let’s go.” Lena opens the door and you finally open your eyes.

“Nooo.” You complain, making Lena give you a soft smile in return.

“Yes, come on. It’s like this every day.” She doesn’t leave until you’re up on your feet despite all of your protests. “We’re leaving in 15.”

You do your entire shower-get dressed-brush teeth routine using your super speed, so you’re downstairs in less than five minutes.

“Hey, babyface.” Kara holds your face, when you’re passing through her, and she kisses your temple. “Had a good night?”

“Eh. It was decent.” You untangle yourself from her and go to the fridge. “We’re out of milk.”

“No, we’re not.” Lena’s voice comes from behind you. You turn around to look at her, all suit up. She has a maroon suit on, and her hair is tied up in a very tight ponytail. She looks very impressive which is normal for her. “Look carefully.”

“I did!” You answer and you see her coming to the fridge. She puts her hand inside and takes a carton of milk out.

“Milk, daughter. Daughter, milk.” She says ironically and you close the refrigerator door with a huff sound. “Eat fast, I have a meeting I can’t be late to.”

“You always have meetings.” You go to the table and sit next to Kara. “And you can never be late to any of them.” You pour cereal into a bowl, and then milk. “It’s like this every day.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, baby.” Kara states.

“It might not, but it does sustain me.” You open a big smile. You still eat fast, though.

Lena drives you to school. This whole driving with her started when Kara was still terrified to let you walk alone. Now, she’s a little less scared, but you kept getting ready on time, and Lena never said anything to make you believe she wants this to stop, so you just keep riding with her. Because having those 10 minutes in the car ride with her it’s good, even when you’re distracted.

“How’s school now that you’re back?” She asks while staring straight ahead, and when the answer doesn’t come, she looks back at you. She takes one hand out of the wheel, and pokes your cheek. “Hey! What’s more interesting in your phone than me?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.” You joke with a smile, and you hear a sarcastic ‘ha ha’ in return. “School is still there.”

“Baby…”

“I’m joking, jeez.” You put your phone away and pat her shoulder trying to calm her. “Everything is fine, mom. I got my grades back up, and everyone loves me now.”

“Yeah?”

“No, I’m just kidding again.” You laugh and she makes an annoyed sound that you decide to ignore. She stops the car in front of the school, and you see Jamie getting out of her mami’s momvan. “Well, gotta go. Thanks for the ride.” You kiss her cheek. “Love ya, have a great day!”

“You too, babygirl.” Lena smiles back at you, watching you getting out of the car. “Don’t break anything, I love you!”

You close the door and turn on your heels, rolling your eyes. If you had a dollar for every time Lena said ‘don’t break anything’, you would be the billionaire by now.

“Hey weirdo.” You catch up to Jamie.

“Hey dipshit.” She answers, putting her phone back in her pocket. “Did you do the chemistry homework? Can I copy?”

Oh, if you had a dollar for that too.

School goes on like it always does, and you can’t help but think that it really doesn’t matter that you have superpowers and a not-so-average intelligence. School is still school for everyone. Kids have pretty much the same problems, questions and indecisions. And you’re just another one in that sea of moody teenagers going from one class to the other.

It's great that you have a girlfriend now. And even if that still doesn’t feel like a normal thing in your life, you two have fallen into a routine very quickly. You see each other when you arrive at school, have a few classes together, have lunch with Jamie in the same table you’ve always seated on, and when the school is over you two steal some moments alone, before either of you have to go home. Today it’s no different.

You don’t go to L Corp. You have lots of homework and reading to do, and you also don’t have any idea for an invention, which is, surprise surprise, also very common for you. Jamie thinks you’re always flooding with ideas and that couldn’t be further from the truth. On your ordinary days, you work very hard and things still don’t go anywhere. So, you just go home and do your boring school activities.

“Hey, whatcha working on?” Kara asks, opening your bedroom door, hours after you sat down, and you look up from your books.

“Homework.” You take off your glasses feeling your vision blurry on the sides. Kara walks in and kisses the top of head.

“Why don’t you take a break, huh?” She asks, like she can see it on your face you’ve been here long enough, and you’re tired already. “Look what I've got you.” Kara gives you a donut and you smile at her.

“You know me so well.” You take it from her hands and eat fast. “Thanks, momma.”

“Come help us with dinner.” She asks and you look at your books deciding you’ve studied enough. You follow her to the kitchen where Lena is already cooking. “Look who I found nose buried in her books.”

“Oh, it’s our little nerd.” Lena chuckles and she kisses your temple when you’re close enough. “Did you clean your bedroom?”

“Mmm…” You haven’t, but you don’t want to tell her that. But then again, Kara was just inside your room, so you can’t exactly lie. You look at Kara for support and she shakes her head agreeing, like she’s giving you permission to say yes. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Ok.” Lena puts your hair behind your ear and smiles softly. “You can clean up after you help us with dinner.”

You huff while pouting, making both of them giggle at you.

“How did you know I was lying?”

“Oh, that part was actually really simple, because you see… I’m not an idiot.” She winks at you and you agree with your head. “Now, why don’t you help me?” Lena points at the top shelf. “Can you grab that bowl for me?”

“Why? You can’t reach it?” You joke, making Kara wheeze a laughter behind you, and it takes her a whole minute to recover from that. Even with Lena looking at her like she is going to commit murder if she doesn't stop.

“Don’t sass me.” It’s Lena’s response and you fly a little off the ground to grab what she asked for.

So, you all finish making dinner, and eating it, while talking about your days. And that includes Lena’s boring meetings with people who know way less than she knows, but still try to convince her that she’s wrong. Includes Kara’s interviewing various uninteresting people to the unexciting news piece that she’s writing. And your tedious classes, and uncreative ideas. The day is so dull, there wasn’t even any Supergirl emergency.

When dinner is done, and the kitchen is clean, they make their way to the couch, and you clean your bedroom using your super speed, so you can join them right after. The three of you just watch TV, and laugh, and exist.

If you’re being honest, you would trade all the kidnappings, assassination attempts, saving National City emergencies, to these dull days, easily. Because just existing next to them it’s so freaking good, you don’t need anything else.

Notes:

Thank you to my sister (not irl) @supercorpdaughter for this prompt :)

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 10

* * * * * * 

Eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. E/c eyes blinking in surprise.

Across from you stands the entire team, in front of them is a large breakfast spread, and balloons. 

You smile with a shake of your head,“ what is all this for?” 

Tony smiles, rounding the corner to stand at your side. His arm circles your shoulder,“ as of today, you have officially been with us for a year.”

“Awe, guys this really didn’t have to be celebrated.” You tell them, once again looking at all the food on the counter. 

All of them instantly wave you off a layer of replies rolling over you varying from “you deserve it” to “Tony just wants to party” which makes you laugh. 

Said billionaire picks up two champagne flutes and hands one to you. 

“Y/n, this is to a year of being the greatest of friends, a shoulder to cry on, and pretty much the most important member of this team.” Tony holds his glass up and everyone follows in agreement.

Most important member is a stretch in your opinion but they all seem to think so. 

Taking a sip, you realize this orange juice is mixed with champagne. Which you should’ve expected from Tony. 

Everyone starts to dig into the breakfast, chatter filling the room like it usually does throughout the facility. 

“Y/n, congrats!” Peter exclaims, happily wrapping you in a hug that you return.“ I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s like just yesterday I was learning your name right? And now we’re like best friends.” The boy rambles.

Chuckling, you give him another one armed hug,“ I was starting to see you as more of a little brother actually.”

His brown eyes light up, just like they had on Christmas.“ I’ve never had an older sister before.” 

“I know.” You chuckle again.

He smiles brightly once again and gives you another hug,“ I’m glad we met Y/n.” 

“Me too Pete.” You rub his back and then pull away. The both of you then going to fix a plate.

Setting your overflowing plate(thanks to Tony’s persistence) on the table, you move to pull your chair out, only for a certain redhead to pull it out for you. 

“One full year huh?” She winks at you and sits in the chair next to you. 

One year with the team and six months with her. 

All that time seemed to fly by in the moment but looking back on it now it’s like more than a year. A year of building these incredible friendships and the most important relationship you’ve had. 

“Crazy right.” You breathe a laugh.

Natasha leans towards you, arms supporting her on the table,“ call me corny but, this has been the best year of my life.” 

Your hand reaches up to cup her cheek,“ I couldn’t agree more,” the two of you meet for a short sweet kiss,“ also you are corny.” 

Laughing, the woman rolls her eyes and kisses you again. 

“As cute as you two are, I’d rather eat my food without all the PDA.” Wanda’s voice invades the small moment. 

“Sorry Wan.” You smile softly at her.

The younger woman waves you off,“ I was only joking. Partly.” 

When the rest of the team sits at the table, you take a moment to thank all of them. Not just for the breakfast but for being so welcoming and just incredible in general. 

All the relationships you’ve built wouldn’t have happened without them. And you wouldn’t have been able to help them if they didn’t trust you. 

They raise another glass to your thanks and Tony tells you it’s only the tip of the iceberg since he’s throwing you a party later. You’re quick to tell him that’s not necessary but he informs you it’s all planned already. 

There hadn’t been a “Stark Party” in a while according to the team. Sam and Peter were quick to thank you, saying they didn’t think there’d be one if you hadn’t showed up. 

You hadn’t been to one of Tony’s parties in years. Since long before both snaps. 

So you are, admittedly, excited for it. After you’ve gotten dressed you wait an hour after the party had started, as Tony asked you to, before heading out. And even though you were expecting the surprise, the number of people that shout “Happy One Year!’ to you startles you.

An excited laugh leaves your lips and once again Tony approaches you first. 

“Okay,” you nod,“ I’ll admit this is pretty great.” You smile at him as the two of you hug. Pulling away you then look to his wife.“ Pep, it’s great to see you.” 

She squeezes you tightly,“ I hate that you’ve been here a year and we’ve barely spent any time together.” 

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a wine night.” 

Together the two of you quickly plan a night to do so. Pepper then urging you to go mingle. And you do, making your way through the large crowd of people, those you’ve met and others you’re positive you’ve never seen before. 

Until you approach a pair of both someone you know and someone you’ve only heard of.

“Y/nn!” 

A smile bursts across your face the second she smiles at you. The blonde woman’s energy contagious. 

“Carol! I missed you.” You hug her close, reminded of the months it’s been since she was last here.“ You didn’t have to travel all the way through the galaxy for this but I’m glad you’re here.” 

Her hands rub your arms as she pulls away,“ me too. I’ve missed you.” She then steps back, hand resting on the back of the woman you assume to be her girlfriend,“ Y/n this is Maria Rambeau. Maria this is Y/n.”

Maria smiles at you, holding her hand out,“ Carol’s told me a lot about you, it’s a pleasure.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. This one doesn’t shut up about you when we talk.” You say teasingly, chin nodding to Carol who’s cheeks tint pink. 

The smile Maria sends to Carol is full of nothing but love and adoration. And if there was ever any doubt that Carol loved her, the smile she returns throws it out the window. But you knew.

Your body stiffens in shock when a hand presses to your lower back and you quickly relax once the familiarity of the soft skin and cold temperature hits you.   

Your girlfriend smiles over at you and you don’t even fight the urge to place a kiss to her cheek. Afterwards looking back at Carol and Maria.“ Maria this is my girlfriend Natasha. Tash this is Maria, Carol’s girlfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you. Carol’s told me a bit about you.” Natasha nods to the woman.

All the while Carol is smiling proudly at you, which you shake your head at in amusement. 

The blonde quirks a brow,“ girlfriend huh? And how long has that been going on?” Her tone is teasing and curious. 

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you mumble,“ six months.” 

Carol’s proud smile becomes knowing and you swear the heat rushing to your face could be felt around the room. 

Natasha, being the god send she is, excuses the two of you. Gracefully pulling you through the crowd to the designated dance floor. 

She pulls you to stand in front of her. Those cold hands circling your waist, hands locking behind you at the dip in your back. 

Focusing on this moment, your eyes scan her face, taking in her perfect lips, her cheekbones and those tiny dimples, and those eyes. God you swear those eyes were the start of it all. 

“You’re so pretty Natasha.” Your hands grip her hips a little tighter.

A smirk curves her lips,“ and you’re beautiful.” 

Despite your blush, you jokingly add,“ well you’re gorgeous.” 

She laughs, forehead resting on your shoulder,“ getting competitive are we?”

“Maybe a little.” You kiss her temple just before she lifts her head.

The two of you continue to sway to the lowly playing soft music, completely entranced by each other’s presence. 

For the last six months the two of you have reveled in these moments together. Some days you could spend together completely. Others you had to steal minutes throughout just to see each other. But it was all perfect.

Learning about Natasha has just proven to make you fall for her more and more. You could safely say your list of reasons why you like her has become reasons why you love her and it’s definitely grown longer.

As all good things come to an end, you’re pulled from your moment with Natasha, by the hand on your shoulder. It’s unexpected which startles you but you’re further startled by the force of the emotions hitting you.

You spin around and lock eyes with Bucky. The anxiety you’d just felt from him is hidden in his eyes, had he not touched you, you wouldn’t have known. 

His jaw clenches,“ can we talk?”

“Of course.” You nod, hand squeezing Natasha’s waist as you mumble an excuse me, and walk away with Bucky. 

Once in an empty hallway he turns to you, his feelings now showing. Fingers wringing together, his teeth abuse his bottom lip, and his eyes remained trained on the ground. 

Knowing not to touch him unless told to, you choose to speak softly,“ Buck, I can tell you’re incredibly anxious. What’s going on?” 

“I-” he swallows and when his eyes meet yours there are tears welling in them,“ I saw someone. Someone from HYDRA. I- I don’t know if I’m seeing things or if they were actually here.” 

This was a recurring problem with Bucky. One you’d discovered while taking him and Steve to the mall one day. Being in such large crowds overwhelmed the man, triggering his anxiety which in turn triggered hallucinations. 

When you addressed it then he revealed that he’d been experiencing these highly anxious moments for a while. The first time the hallucinations had him was months before you’d gotten there while he and Steve were out together. 

At that point you’d begun working him through breathing exercises. Coming up with ways to help him cope with the anxiety so that it wouldn’t reach a point where he hallucinated. 

“Bucky breathe. Five seconds in and out.” He starts to do as instructed. 

You then walk him through his five steps. Listing five things he can see, four things he can hear, three things he can feel, two things he can smell, and one thing he can taste. 

He’s calmed down but you can tell he’s still anxious.

“Hey,” your hands rub his arms,“ I’m gonna make it go away okay?” 

Brown eyes look into yours and he nods. 

Taking a deep, stilling breath in, you take away his major anxiousness, and project the happy excitement you’ve been feeling to him. 

Bucky brightens instantly, giving you a small smile, and squeezing your arms.“ I- thank you Y/n.” 

“Anytime Buck.” 

You wait for the man to disappear around the corner before collapsing to the ground. Your back presses to the wall as you breathe heavily. 

“Y/n?”

Overly anxious, you involuntarily jerk away from the redhead beside you. 

The woman’s heart races as she looks at you, eyebrows pinched together,“ Y/n what’s wrong?” 

“Just- hold on.” You speak through deep breaths. 

Natasha waits with you until you calm down. When your body finally untenses and you sag against the wall, your girlfriend moves to kneel in front of you. 

Fingers grazing your legs she asks, with a soft demanding tone,“ what was that?”

“It was nothing. I’m fine I promise.” 

“That wasn’t fine. When you left you you were fine. Just now, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” She presses. 

You push your hands up your face and through your hair,“ I didn’t. I was just-”

“Using your powers on Bucky.” She finishes, an almost hard look setting in her eyes. 

Her words take you by surprise. 

When she found out about your powers is lost on you. And what did she know about them? 

Eyes wide, you can barely ask what she’s talking about before she speaks again.“ Have you been using your powers on everyone this entire time?” 

“I- yes.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” She stands. 

Following suit, you stand as well,“ I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it-”

A deep frown covers her brow,“ you never even gave me a chance. Am I correct in assuming you’ve been lying to me then? All those times I came to see you after your session and you told me you were fine?”

“That wasn’t necessarily a lie. I was fine it just took me a minute.” 

“Necessarily?” Green eyes narrow at you.“ Lying is lying I don’t care how technical you want to get about it. I do care that you’ve constantly been telling me to trust you and be honest, yet you’ve been lying since the beginning.” 

You open your mouth to protest or object but she’s right.“ Tash I’m sorry okay. I swear I was planning to tell you.”

“Planning or not, you lied. You could’ve just told me you weren’t ready to talk about it. How was lying the better option?” A deep sigh leaves the woman’s lips and she runs a hand through her hair, before simply turning to leave. 

“Wait Ta-”

She holds her hand up,“ don’t follow me Y/n. I need a minute. Just go enjoy your party.” 

With that she leaves you in the hall alone. And you can only blame yourself.

* * * * * *

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[barnesandco]

Eat the Rich: Chapter 1

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt, with the dialogue prompt “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on her his arm?” in bold in this chapter.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, memory loss and recovery, brief mentions of Bucky’s Winter Soldier days, and canon-level violence. Lots of frustrated Avengers. A bit of flirting.

A/N: I can’t decide if I want this series to make people laugh or cry, so good luck. Please comment and reblog! 

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​!

The Avengers are confused. Perplexed and far out of their depths, they’re strewed about the meeting room with variants of displeasure on their faces. Bucky wears the biggest scowl of all, sitting ramrod straight in an armchair intended for postures far more comfortable. The source of their malcontent hovers in a hologram above the conference table, somehow managing to look bored while handcuffed and bound to a steel chair in the most secure interrogation room in the Compound.

You’re a thief. A crook who has been stealing big money from bigger people, in a slew of prominent heists that eventually led to the Avengers’ recruitment to your case. High stakes burglary isn’t their field, but when certain people threw their weight around, demanding a serious investigation, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes had no choice but to play detectives to one elusive criminal.

A flirtatious one, too, Bucky thinks, remembering your first confrontation, as he traces the seams of his metal arm with the softer pads of his flesh fingers. 

Sam, Nat, and Bucky had tracked you all the way to Paris, where, one night, Sam gave chase while Bucky waited to intercept you on the predicted escape route, in an alley behind one of the classiest bars in town. Their prediction had proved accurate, and you had pretty much run straight into Bucky’s waiting arms. 

The ensuing fight should have been an easy one, and Bucky made the awful mistake -- the mistake he hadn’t made since meeting the Widows in the Red Room -- of underestimating a woman, and he ended up paying for it. 

His fists clench in his lap at the memory of how you had pulled a very Widow move on him, and he had wound up on his back with your thighs around his neck in a chokehold almost gentle. You had leaned over him to tie his hands together, and left him panting, out of breath, and with the taste of rust in his mouth. Clambering off, and wiping away the blood at the corner of his lip, you had then said, “I look forward to our rematch, handsome,” before disappearing into the dark, French night.

“Barnes?” He hears Stark call, and he blinks. “You still with us, or are you daydreaming about your girlfriend?” The room grows silent, and Bucky can sense suppressed smiles and silent glares, the latter aimed at Stark from Steve.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grouses, letting his metal fingers dig into his kneecaps.

Sam, coffee abandoned on the table in front of him, eyes twinkling says, “We heard her through the coms, Barnes. In Paris, and in Buenos Aires.”

“And Oslo,” Peter pipes up, and Bucky falls back into the memory of autumn frost crunching under his feet, the reverberations of the orchestra in the opera house as he followed your coat-tails -- you played violin, because why the hell not -- down the busy street. Power-walking turned to running, and you had ended up in a crowded, posh bar with Bucky backing you into the wall in the hallway leading to the restrooms, holding your hands in one metal fist behind you.

Still, you had been unperturbed, trying to distract him with gemstone eyes while he called backup -- Stark, soaring in stealth mode above the fjord. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on his arm?” You had asked, gesturing toward his metal shoulder, no struggle, no flight or fight. 

Red-lipped smiles, you had given him, and he had been so close to pulling out the handcuffs until a trio of burly security guards had appeared, your backup, apparently, and engaged him in enough combat to allow you to escape. 

“She seems to like you,” Sam finishes piercing the haze of another battle lost, less violently at least, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like her,” is the best he can come up with, and he stands, moves towards a window overlooking the grounds, addressing the bulletproof glass, next. “What I would like is for us to get the money back so we can all go on our merry way and pretend this ever happened.”

The room falls quiet at that. Every person here is acutely aware of the fact that they’re no closer to getting the money back -- nobody could ever spend the amounts you’ve stolen recently, so quickly; FRIDAY’s run simulations on it -- and you haven’t budged under the interrogations you’ve faced thus far.

Barton enters the room as soon as he gets off the quinjet, still in his typical Bed Stuy uniform -- ripped jeans and purple t-shirt -- and Bucky, alongside Natasha and Sam in the observation room behind the one way glass, can see the angle he’s going with. 

It’s almost cliché, or maybe it’s just Clint, so relaxed and loose-limbed with too much pizza in his system and likely smelling of one-eyed dog -- Bucky adores Lucky, but he’ll never admit it -- the way he turns his chair around and sits, resting his chin on folded arms atop the back of the chair. 

For a moment, Bucky worries he’s fallen asleep right there, until his blond head lifts ever so slightly and he says, “Would you like something to drink?” 

You quirks a smile. “I’d like a proper introduction. What, were you raised in a barn?” The smirk is teasing, but there’s no bite, like you’re greeting an old friend with an inside joke. Barton traces the edge of the table.

“Almost. Ever heard of Waverly, Iowa?” He asks. 

You shake your head, and then, grin, informing, “No, but I have heard of you, Clint Barton.”

“So you didn’t need an introduction.”

“I’m a prankster, can’t you tell?” Bucky thinks of the navy blue dress in Prague, the tiny but powerful stink bombs you had kept in a thigh holster, how you had left them coughing. 

“Jokes are all well and good but, uh, stealing isn’t so funny,” Clint answers., sitting up, and Bucky can hear in his hardening tone that he’s starting to get serious. 

“Depends on who you’re stealing from,” is your flippant response.

“Also depends on who has to get the money back, too, and let me tell you, we’re a little tired of playing games.”

“Then I guess I win, right?”

“Are you sure you don’t recognize her? Her tactics seem familiar,” Sam says, and the sensation that has been aggravating the nerves in an unlocatable part of his brain since he saw her for the first time worsens, but Sam’s question is addressed to Nat.

“She’s not Red Room, if that’s what you mean. The Widows were trained to be merciless. She avoids getting more physical than she needs to,” Natasha answers, retying the band on her braid, flaming red hair coiled over her shoulder.

“She broke Bucky’s nose,” Steve points out in protest. 

Nat shrugs, leans forward to doodle on the notepad resting on her knee. “If it was me, I might have knocked some teeth out. Maybe pulled a knife or garrotte.”

“You have to tell me where you get those sting-y things,” you say the moment Nat enters the room, eyes sparkling and wide with awe. Bucky winces as he remembers the short-circuit from that little electric disc. The engineers in the bank had been pretty troubled by the thought of what could’ve caused that kind of damage to the internal systems, until he his fist around one of their necks gave them something else to worry ab--

Steve’s hand on his shoulder startles him back to the observation room instead of Hydra’s clutches, and he says, “Hey, Bucky, how’s it going?” with a nod to the room in front of them. Vibranium cuffs peek out from under the large, green hoodie that envelopes your form, making you look deceptively soft.

“She wants to know where Nat gets her taser discs.”

“You’re eager for those even after you’ve felt how much they hurt?” Nat asks calmly, and Bucky imagines an ice-cool smirk on her lips as she reminds you of how exactly you were captured. It was the tasers that brought you down, after Sam, Steve and Bucky flew and ran you to exhaustion through the streets of Algiers, costing Stark some collateral payments. He hadn’t minded too much, just been happy to have you in custody, finally.

“They look like they’d be fun to use. Pretty handy around certain metal armed men, too,” you suggest playfully.

“Yeah, he isn’t going to talk to you, but I’ve been looking forward to this chat of ours, so why don’t you start by telling me your name.”

“I don’t have one. I’m a ghost story,” you say, and Bucky assumes Nat is looking unimpressed, because you press forward with the joke. “You’re going to need a medium to talk to me.”

“And where do you suppose I find one of those?”

“You have one. Isn’t Bucky Barnes a ghost story, too?”

Sam’s about to name what is sure to be another way to cause unnecessary injury when Bucky butts in. “It doesn’t matter how she hurt me or how she could have hurt me,” this, with a glare at Natasha, who smiles down at the paper. “We have a burglar with billions stashed away and a buncha angry billionaires breathin’ down our necks to find it.”

“Well why don’t you give it a go if you think it’s so easy?” Looking up from the hangman sketch, Nat fixes emerald eyes on his, reminding him, once again, of the unusual interest you’ve taken in Bucky. One that started with mid-battle conversations of a different nature, and that has extended into custody. Something that’s been bugging Steve, his protective instinct whirring into overdrive -- Bucky sees his eye twitch from across the room at Nat’s remark -- no more so than during Steve’s turn to question the captive.

“You guys are all taking your turns playing Good Cop Bad Cop, but I haven’t seen Robocop yet. Why is that?”

“You left him tied up in Paris–”

“There’s an innuendo in there somewhere,” you sing-song, head tilting rhythmically from side to side. Bucky clenches his fists in the observation room.

“–so he isn’t much obliged to see you,” Steve finishes, bypassing your interruption.

Playful eyes with laser determination, unperturbed by locked rooms and handcuffs, focus on a spot just above Steve’s shoulder, almost looking through the glass, even though Bucky knows it’s just a mirror for you. “What a shame. I was hoping our little back alley tussle wouldn’t scare the big, bad White Wolf away.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Are you going to tell us where the money is or do you want formal charges and a jail cell?” He asks, shifting so he blocks your line of sight, folds his hands on the table, and broadens his shoulders, all-Captain and no-nonsense.

“Giving up on me so easy?”

“I wouldn’t call it easy, miss. We’ve been looking for months and tried just about everything to get you to cooperate.”

“Not everything.”

“She’s yawning,” Sam proclaims indignantly, glaring, shocked, at the hologram where indeed, the source of their troubles is yawning, like you could fall asleep, tied up and all. “Unbelievable.” He shakes his head, and Bucky stops a snort from escaping. He’s seen all kinds of interrogations, faced a fair few, too, and this woman is just warming up.

The ensuing discussion and debate continues for hours, until the sun sets behind the window Bucky’s standing by, and what silences them is the thump with which Clint puts his hearing aids on the table in front of him. Sam’s coffee wobbles dangerously, and everyone sighs as Clint wordlessly tells them to shut up. Murmurs of agreement to rest and get a fresh start tomorrow echo through the room, and Bucky catches Barton’s eye, and receives a wink. 

Later that night, in his room, Bucky knows he’s not going to get a minute of sleep. It’s just an intuition, something his very bones are telling him, and he sees no reason to dispute it. Under the throbbing ache in his head, there’s an itch in the grey matter of his mind, somewhere he can’t reach, and he twists and turns. The feeling is recognizable as the vexation inflicted when he’s on the verge of a memory, but those return either by dream or by sense these days.

Dreams are for the bad memories, the days of the Winter Soldier, his subconscious loosening whatever locks his mind placed to compartmentalize the pain, to stuff it all away. The nightmares, the terrible memories leave him shaking, but therapy helps. By a few percent, but when the load of pain is as heavy as his is, every small burden taken off his shoulder helps.

Sense brings back the time before Hydra, although it’s sometimes hard to believe there was one. Steve’s face buried in his shoulder, be careful, Buck; Romanian take out, his mother’s hands; faucet dripping, water running out; oranges exploding on his tongue, a month’s salary plus overtime from working at the docks for that sweet rush once a year. The Depression, the first war -- trench memory brought back by a rainy run in Central Park, the scent of muddy petrichor in the air -- snowfall in the Alps, Dugan’s cigar. His body remembers, and then shows his mind the way.

However, this, this infuriating personality that has him incensed and restless, she isn’t in his mind in any capacity, but Bucky thinks he knows her. Or that he might have, once. And he needs to know her, again, because he hates not knowing. The nightmares hurt, and the memories of what he’s lost do, as well, but not knowing, existing in the strange limbo between certainty and loss, it’s unbearable. If this woman knows him, if she’s another key to another past, another piece of him, he has to talk to her.

“FRIDAY?” He asks groggily, sitting up. 

The screen in the wall across from him blinks blue in acknowledgement, along with a “Yes, sir?”

“Is Steve up?” 

“Captain Rogers is awake and having a cup of coffee in the kitchen, Sergeant,” FRIDAY tells him, and Bucky curses at the idiocy of consuming caffeine at this hour of night -- whatever’s in that shit works even on the serum and that can’t be good -- replacing his sweatpants with jeans once more and heading out to find his friend.

Steve has his back to the entryway, deep in thought -- dumbass, anyone could sneak up on you like this -- when Bucky comes in and clears his throat. The mug in Steve’s hands looks comically small, and Bucky sits down across from him at the island, reaches forward to take it from him, and downs the remaining half.

It’s just one more testament to how disturbed Steve is -- as if the careless consumption of coffee at midnight wasn’t enough -- that he lets Bucky steal his coffee. Blue meets blue in the silver dusting of moonlight, and Steve tries to locate Bucky’s purpose in his eyes before asking him for it verbally. “What is it, Buck?” He’s tired, too many missions weighing on those eyelids, but too worked up to let them close, to find rest. What Bucky’s going to say won’t help.

“Let me talk to her.”

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First”: Volume 3, Chapter 1

Summary:

Erik N'Jadaka Stevens. The top student in his graduating class at the Naval Academy. The youngest graduate to do so.

Erik excels at M.I.T. studying bioacoustics and sonic warfare. Hounded by Tony Stark to become his protege in Malibu, Erik sets out to forge a path that will take him into the military and Special Ops to complete his ultimate goal: Revenge for his mother and father and the overthrow of the Wakandan Royal House. With the help of his roommate, Disa, he may have found a way to balance first love and his need for justice.

NSFW. Smut. Mature Audience Only.

"My nose wide as the Red Sea (Red Sea) Lips full, fillers don't fill me (Fill me) Soon as my cousin killer's on trial (Woah) Family gon' pull 'em sitting courtside Godsend they say, we singing la-la-la Don't want no vultures on our si-i-ide Looking black as the messi-i-iah I got time…

When we die, where do my people go? To the stars where they can't steal your glow When we die, where do my people go? To the stars where they can't steal your glow Superpower"

Kirby—"Superpower"

Chocolate City.

That's what they called this particular section of dorm housing on the fourth floor of the building known as New House that Erik N'Jadaka Stevens found himself standing in at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

M.I.T.

"No man, this dude is different. He's twenty, but he acts way older. Quiet. Not real friendly…I don't mean in a bad way…he's just not gregarious. Grad student, not a freshman… I didn't ask. He applied to be here and Jay said he'd be a good fit. Oakland…I don't know…"

They were feeling him out already.

The lone voice he heard was in another room talking on a phone. The person wasn't even aware that Erik had entered House One that Chocolate City shared with iHouse, another identity-based undergraduate group who used the first two floors while they used the other three top floors.

Erik had money to get his own apartment or his own house if he wanted. Working for Tony Stark as an intern and a Stark Fellow for a year prior to M.I.T earned him money to live like an adult. Hell, he gave up a luxury apartment and tasteful eclectic furniture to move cross country and hunker down among thirty-one young Black men from around the world—correction, thirty young Black men, and one young white Italian man—who came to study a wide range of STEM-related fields.

Erik stared at the Chocolate City Mission Statement on his phone:

"Chocolate City is a brotherhood of MIT students and alumni who identify with urban culture and share common backgrounds, interests, ethnicities, and/or experiences. By cultivating a tradition of social, intellectual, character, and leadership development, the Brothers of Chocolate City exemplify a high standard of excellence which is founded on continual growth. We seek to enrich the MIT and greater global communities by embodying the principles of our brotherhood."

Taking a deep breath, Erik took time to meditate on what his purpose was in being there in that commons room space at that moment. It was a promise to his Uncle Bakari, Aunt Shavonne, and his Grandpop that he would spend at least six months in the dorm to have a proper group living experience that he didn't have at the Naval Academy. One that was less rigid and military guided. And not a juvenile hall. He shook off the memories.

Six months.

He gave his word.

Erik rolled the suitcase he had with him against a wall and the movement alerted the unseen speaker to end their call. A lanky fade-wearing young man with glasses and very light skin walked in from another room.

"Hi, Erik?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, welcome! I'm Rasheed. Junior year. Engineering. One of two Co-Chairs here. You look different from the Zoom chat…hair is longer…"

They shook hands and Erik ran his fingers over the short 'fro he was cultivating. It was one of the perks of being away from The Naval Academy and Stark Industries. He could let his shit grow freely. He could wear regular clothes. He could stand down.

"Growing it out for a minute."

"Are you wearing gold slugs?"

"Yeah," Erik said becoming annoyed with comments about his appearance.

The moment he left Tony Stark's employ he had pure gold panther slugs made for his bottom teeth to match the ones his Baba used to wear.

"Is this all your stuff?"

"Nah, I have some more out in my car."

"What do you drive?"

"1970 Chevrolet Chevelle."

"What? A muscle car. What color?"

"Black."

"I'll go down and help you bring the rest of your stuff up. Everyone is still moving in and finding the campus. We're having a dorm meeting with the Chocolate City crew before the big New House meeting downstairs later tonight."

"Okay. Cool."

Exiting the elevator, they walked down the large hall on the first floor to the exit. Outside the afternoon air was crisp and Erik admired the brick of the building as they walked away from it to where he parked temporarily.

Rasheed whistled when he saw Erik's car.

"You sank some money into this bad boy."

"My grandfather had it for years. Fixed it up and passed it on to me. He still adds stuff to it if I ask him too."

"That's cool, bruh. Real cool."

Erik pulled out two more roller bags and a duffle, along with his computer bag from his trunk.

"That's it?"

"Yep," Erik said.

"You can stay parked here until tomorrow night. That's when you have to use your residency parking passes and move it to your assigned area."

"Bet."

Moving his things back up into his assigned floor, more young men had arrived in their commons and introductions were made. One husky guy with a crimson and white MIT sweatshirt sat on a couch with his laptop playing music. The music switched up and a voice Erik recognized filled the room.

ButtaFly.

A DJ that hosted a popular MIT radio show. A DJ he listened to for months while he worked for Tony Stark.

"You are listening to the Cosmic Café…up next I'm going to have some new music by Kirby, Seinabo Bey, and I'll also throw in some classic Mutabaruka dub poetry. I want to give a big welcome to the new students arriving for the start of a new school year, especially to the young men of Chocolate City. My homegirl Jennifer is the Graduate Resident Tutor there so hey girl…I hear some really brilliant new students are over there, so welcome… welcome to all the folks over at New House…"

Erik stood in front of red and white hoodie.

"Where is the campus radio station at? Do you know?"

"WMBR?" hoodie asked.

"It's in the basement of the Walker Memorial Building," Rasheed said.

"Is that far from here?"

"Not really if you don't mind walking."

Erik pulled up the campus map on his phone.

"What room do I have?" Erik asked.

He followed Rasheed down a hall to the far end. Two twin beds, two desks, a decent window…

No one else had belongings there yet.

Erik picked the side away from the window and dumped his stuff.

"Thanks for helping me," Erik said.

"No problem—"

"What time is the meeting?"

"In two hours—"

Erik left the room with Rasheed at his heels.

"The rest of the guys will be back, and your roommate—"

"Later. I gotta go peep something first. I'll be back on time."

Erik passed by more Black male undergrads entering Chocolate City.

"Hey, Erik!"

Darcy, the other Co-Chair called out to him as Erik headed toward the elevator. A bright white smile on a rich round mahogany face tried to get his attention as Erik swept past.

"I'll be back!" he called out again.

Erik checked his cell phone. ButtaFly's show lasted for another thirty minutes. He stuck in earbuds to listen to her as he walked outside once more. Zipping up the bright orange windbreaker he had on, he used his phone GPS to guide him to his muse. The voice that haunted him for so many months when he worked for Stark. The voice that soothed him when he was in bed alone. The voice that seduced him when he pleasured himself in that big queen-sized bed he used to own.

Things were different now.

He had a twin bed and a male roommate. He had to share cooking duties with young men when he once ate with billionaire playboys and a Black Princess of Monaco. Erik used to fly on a private jet with Tony Stark anywhere in the world and had access to tech that these students were just trying to learn about and would never get to see on a higher level in a lifetime.

So different.

No more smoking weed and jerking off naked to Buttafly's voice in private trying to imagine what she looked like as he came in his hand with deep guttural moans. Very shortly, he would come face to face with the woman of his dreams.

A woman who helped guide him back to his ultimate purpose in life and she didn't even know it.

Chapter 2 HERE.

Tag List:

@fd-writes​​ @soufcakmistress​  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone​

@allhailqueennel​  @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot​  @shookmcgookqueen​ @yoyolovesbucky​

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@tyees​  @eye-raq​  @writerbee-ffs​  @chocolatedream30​  @childishgambinaa​  @mygirlrenee​ @thewaysheis​—awkward

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@cecereads209​

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter despite very minimal Willy/Aberdeen interaction.  This chapter and the ones coming will definitely make up for it.

December 15th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was trying to get into the biggest gated house she’d ever seen in her life.  

She’d taken an Uber up to the Bridle Path, the exclusive street in Toronto filled with massive mansions the size of her high school with their own private gates and tennis courts and and pools and indoor pools and indoor basketball courts and bowling alleys and wine cellars and all the other frivolous things rich people could build in their houses.  She bet each one even had a heated driveway so that nobody in the house had to wake up at the crack of dawn to shovel.  The Uber driver had already driven away, not even bothering to wait to see if she got in safely, so she hoped to be let in soon.  

“Name, please?” a loud voice asked through the intercom-or-whatever-it-was system these rich people had for their house.  She bet they probably had cameras too and saw her impatiently waiting outside.  

“Aberdeen Bloom.”

“Abba-what?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Aberdeen Bloom,” she enunciated more clearly.  “Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.”  She was starting to get annoyed that she had to attach that caveat for anybody in the hockey world or the rich people world to take her seriously.  

The gate buzzed open, and Aberdeen walked quickly towards the front entrance, about the ring the doorbell before it opened magically for her.  A butler.  A butler opened the door for her and greeted her, offering to take her coat and letting her know she could keep her shoes on.  There were waiters and waitresses carrying around plates of expensive looking hors d’oeuvres and others carrying around flutes of champagne.  There was a giant, giant Christmas tree in the – the foyer?  The reception hall?  What did rich people call these things? – decorated with expensive looking ornaments, ribbons, and what Aberdeen thought had to be Swarovski crystals.  It had to be at least 15 or 20 feet high.  It was a far cry from her family’s Christmas tree, which was decorated with all the homemade ornaments she, Siena, and Camden had made throughout their years in school.  She almost felt like she was in the Eaton Centre.  There were even boxes upon boxes of presents underneath it, all wrapped with the same wrapping paper and with giant nametags.  Jolly Christmas carols were being played through some sort of speaker.  

She couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She couldn’t believe she was in a house on the Bridle Path with these rich people.  What had her life become?

“Aberdeen!” she heard her name being called.  She looked to her side to see Brendan approaching her, leaving his wife speaking to whoever they were speaking to for a quick second.  “So nice to see you!  You look lovely as always.”

“Oh, thanks Brendan.”

“Come with me,” he said, guiding her towards the people he was speaking to.  “Aberdeen, I want you to meet Dani Reiss, whose house we’re in.  Dani’s the CEO of Canada Goose.  Dani, this is my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aberdeen,” he said as they shook hands.  Aberdeen was hyperaware of his handshake and the fact that she was shaking hands with yet another billionaire.  She truly, truly couldn’t understand what her life had become.  She wished Siena or Kasha were here to do all the talking.  They were much better at it than she was, she thought.  “How are you enjoying working for the Toronto Maple Leafs?”

Aberdeen chuckled nervously.  She wondered if he really cared, but then remembered that they were having their Christmas party at his house, and he’d gone through all this trouble to keep them entertained, so he probably did.  “Oh, it’s amazing!  A bit hectic at times, but overall it’s been a great experience so far.  Everyone’s just been so great and welcoming – you wouldn’t even know that I didn’t watch hockey before I got the job.”

That led to a chuckle amongst Brendan, Catherine, and Dani.  “I bet a million people would kill for your job,” Dani commented through his laugh.

There it was again.  That thing everybody said to her when they learned what her job was.  She’d heard it for months now, since her first day on the job, and it was becoming abundantly clear with each passing day that it was something many people coveted.  “I know, sir.  I’m very lucky to have it and to work with such an incredible team.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Brendan smile.  Dani was already smiling at her.  “Well Aberdeen, mi casa es su casa!  Feel free to take a wander, grab some drinks, and enjoy the food!”

She thanked them as they left her there, walking towards another group with Leanne Hederson.  Aberdeen walked further into the foyer where the giant Christmas tree was, admiring it for a moment before looking around to see if she could see anybody she recognized.  She knew that, at this point, she could walk up to any member of the team or the administration and join in on their conversation, but the setting was slightly different than what she was used to (at the offices, of course) and it made her a bit nervous.  

“Brendan girl?”

Aberdeen visibly cringed.  She looked to her side to see her absolute favourite person in the whole entire world, Ethan Baker, walking over to her with a drink in his hands.  “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes at him.  He did this at every event they attended, as if she wasn’t allowed to be there.  “You constantly forget we work for the same team,” she said.

“Yeah, except one of our jobs is more important than the other,” he quipped.  She felt like punching him right then and there until she remembered this was a Christmas party at a billionaire’s mansion and it was socially frowned upon to start fights at parties.  “I didn’t know assistants were allowed to these things.”

“Peter’s here.”

“Doesn’t that mean you two should be helping the waiters?”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “What is your problem?” she demanded.  

“Aw, come on, I’m just ribbing you.”

“You know, just because I got the job over you—”

“—Cause you look really hot in those pants, Brendan girl.”

She stopped.  She was shocked at what he’d just said.  It had to be because he was already drunk.  She couldn’t think of another plausible expectation.  She couldn’t believe how hot and cold he was at these sorts of events, remembering what he was like at the Major Donor Gala.  “Besides,” she said through gritted teeth, “being a waiter isn’t something to be frowned upon.  A lot of my friends waited their way through university.”

“And you didn’t be a waitress or hostess?  With the way you look, you would have gotten really good tips.”

She felt like spiders were crawling underneath her skin.  She thought back to that day where she let him get in her head – when he’d called her a piggy for warming up a burrito.  “Are you trying to flirt with me?  Because you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m trying to—”

“Aberdeen!”

She looked to her side to see an excited looking Bee McTavish making a beeline towards her.  Bee somewhat-stared, somewhat-glared at Ethan as she hooked her arm with Aberdeen’s.  “You don’t mind if I steal her, do you?  A bunch of her friends are just over there,” she nodded her head towards a group that included Jason and Jennifer Spezza, Morgan, and John and Aryne Tavares. 

“I’m her friend,” Ethan quipped, smiling.

“I’m sure,” Bee nodded her head, grimacing every so slightly.  “Have a good night,” she dismissed him before tugging on Aberdeen’s arm and leading her in the opposite direction.  “God, that guy is such a skeeze,” she whispered to Aberdeen.

“Yeah.”

“Does he work here?”

“Tech and video playback,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Well, you’re with us now,” Bee smiled as she brought Aberdeen into the fold of the group.  

Aberdeen greeted and hugged everyone before noticing Will at the tail end.  She gave him a quick hug and a – God he smelled impeccable – and a cordial ‘Nice to see you!’ before he settled into his usual William behaviour.  “What do you think?” he asked.

She knew he was waiting for one of her famous retorts.  She took another look at his look: blonde hair, navy blue up top and an actual pair of burnt orange pants.  She wondered if his fashionable status edged on the side of completely insane.  Everything was tailored to perfection, and nothing was wrinkled or anything like that, but she couldn’t get over the orange pants.  “You look like Sailor Venus.”

Everybody burst out into laughter.  Even William smiled from ear to ear.  “Alright alright, very funny Aberdeen.”

“You know I’m right.”

The group talked about their Christmas plans.  This was Aryne and John’s first Christmas with baby Jace, so it was going to be extremely special for them.  Morgan’s parents and brother were flying in from Vancouver to spend time with him and Bee.  It was also Jason and Jennifer’s first Christmas in Toronto with their four girls – even though Jason was from here – so that was another special event that they’d be hosting at their house.  William would probably be Skyping with his family in Sweden, having his own version of a family Christmas.  It was unfortunate that whatever plans the boys had with their families would have to be cut short slightly because they had a game in New Jersey on the 27th, and it was even more unfortunate that because of a game in Minnesota, they’d all be away from their families on New Year’s – Aberdeen included.  It was the first time she would be out of Toronto for New Year’s, and not spending the night with her family or out with her friends.  

Jason and Jennifer ended up giving Aberdeen a tour of the parts of the house they’d already explored, with William following behind them somewhat lazily.  She saw Ethan at one point and could feel him staring at her.  There were a couple of different food stations, and she picked up some sushi and other appetizers on the way around.  The house was expansive, and again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She could only imagine what the bedrooms looked like, or the basement, where she was sure there were ridiculous things like a bowling alley, or a 10,000 bottle wine cellar, or a home theatre.  

Dani Reiss ended up calling Jason and Jennifer over, so Aberdeen found herself alone with William.  William seemed to enjoy the situation, as he always did – the smirk on his face revealing all – but when Aberdeen looked past him, she saw Ethan staring at her again, pretending to talk to his colleague who worked in tech and video playback.  She bit her lip nervously.  She knew she couldn’t let him get to her, but he already had once before and it almost cost her the job she had – the one he so desperately wanted.  She couldn’t let him keep doing this to her.  She needed to be strong.  She needed to be—  

“Aberdeen.”

William’s stern voice broke her out of her trance.  “What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said about how nice you look?”

“N—N—Yeah…yeah yeah, thanks,” she said absent-mindedly.  

That wasn’t a normal reaction from her at all whenever he complimented her looks.  Usually it was an eye-roll and a ‘stop it!’.  William discreetly looked over his shoulder to where she was looking.  He saw Ethan look away once he caught him.  He whipped his head back towards her.  “Is he messing with you?” William asked, his voice low.

“What?  No no,” Aberdeen shook her head quickly.  “Don’t worry about it—”

“Aberdeen, if he’s messing with you, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Will, no,” she stressed.  “Just leave it alone.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“No.”

“What was he saying to you earlier?”

“Nothing,” she said.  There was no way she was going to tell him.  “Just…just stupid stuff.  Work stuff.  It was honestly nothing.”

“You’d tell me, right?” William said.  He’d asked that question before.  She couldn’t discern his tone of voice but by the way he was looking at her she knew he was dead serious and knew there was at least a hint of worry.  “You’d tell me if he said something, right?  If he made you feel uncomfortable?  Because I’ve already tried to talk to Babs about it, and I know he’s gone now but I have no problem speaking to someone on your behalf if you’re too scared to.”

She felt like telling him.  She really did.  But she couldn’t – not now, at the Christmas party, and not ever, because it was something she needed to deal with on her own.  Somehow, at least.  She didn’t know how she was going to deal with it, only that she had to.  So instead, Aberdeen shook her head.  “It’s fine, Will.  Don’t worry.  And yes.  I’d tell you.”

So it was a little white lie.  Who hadn’t told a little white lie in their life?

William visibly relaxed at her words.  He finished his drink and placed it on the tray of a passing server.  “You ready to go outside?”

“Outside?” Aberdeen looked at Will strangely.  “It’s the middle of December.  We’re staying inside, thank you very much.”

“Nooooo no no no no,” he chuckled and shook his head.  He went to grab her hand but then remembered where he was, pulling it back towards his body.  “Come on.  Come with me.  You’re in for the surprise of your life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey Aberdeen!  Willy!  You coming or what?” Jennifer Spezza called out as she waved them down from the sliding doors leading to the backyard.  “Come on!  It’s time to skate!”

Aberdeen threw William a confused look.  “Skate?”

They made their way towards the door, and when Aberdeen stepped through the threshold, she couldn’t believe what she saw: an entire skating rink – boards and everything – where she presumed Dani’s tennis court was, where some people were already skating.  There were lights, people were laughing, and there was even a whole skate rental helping out.  There were even fucking portable heaters.  Again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She couldn’t believe that Dani would offer up his house, hire all the waiting staff, hire the catering staff, buy all those gifts, flood an entire portion of his backyard, and put up a skating rink so he could give the Maple Leafs a Christmas party.  Those closer she walked to the rink with William, Jason, and Jennifer, the more she couldn’t believe it.  

“What size are you, miss?”

“Uh, I’m a seven in regular shoes…” she said, not knowing if that made a difference.  The person turned around to look for skates, and Aberdeen turned towards William.  “I’m…I’m not good at skating at all.”

“You don’t have to be,” he smiled.  “You’ve got a team full of hockey players to help you along, minskatt.”

“No no.  I’m not just, like, saying that to be cute or whatever,” she said.  She needed to make that abundantly clear because she was sure she was going to make a complete ass of herself.  “I’m not good at skating.  I don’t even know how to tie them up properly.”

“Again, you have a whole hockey team at your disposal,” William said with a giggle in his voice.  When the skates were handed over, Jason took them before Aberdeen could.  “You gonna lace her up?” William asked him.

“I’ve got it,” Jason nodded his head.  “Aberdeen, go sit on the bench.  And give me your right foot.”

Aberdeen felt powerless as she did as she was told.  Jason shoved the skate onto her foot and kept it between his legs to tighten them and lace them up.  Jennifer put on her own skates right beside her, and William was on her other side doing the same.  “I feel like one of your children,” Aberdeen joked to them.

Jason smiled.  “You’re practically the same age as Sophia.”

“Am not!” Aberdeen protested.  “Sophia was born in 2010!”

“Yeah, and you’re born in 98.  I’m born in 83.  There’s fifteen years between you and I, but only twelve between you and Sophia,” Jason said.

“It’s practically the same thing!”

“No.  You’re a baby,” Jason chuckled.  “The both of you,” he nodded his head towards William, “are babies.”

Once her skates and helmet were fully on, and tight enough so her ankles weren’t moving so they wouldn’t snap in half, Aberdeen wobbled her way over towards the ice rink.  She looked out onto the ice and saw Bee skating, screaming as she slipped and fell right into Frederik Andersen’s arms.  The both of them laughed heartily as he held on to her like a knight in shining armour would catch his princess.  Morgan called out to them in a joking manner, feigning disgust and annoyance.

“Aberdeen?” she heard William’s soft voice.  Jason and Jennifer were already on the ice.  She hadn’t even seen them get on.  She had taken a while to psych herself up, apparently.  “You okay?”

“I’m just being an idiot,” she shook her head, embarrassed.

“You’re not being an idiot, minskatt.”

“Says the guy who was in skates before he was in shoes with soles,” she tried to joke.  “I work for a hockey team and I don’t even know how to skate well.”

Aberdeen watched as William extended his head.  “Come on,” he said.  “I’ll teach you.”

“Will—���

“Think of it this way,” he began.  “If you fall and crack your head open, you’ll probably suffer memory loss and forget who I am.”

Aberdeen snorted and laughed out loud.  She needed to hand it to William – he knew how to calm her down and diffuse any stress.  “You’re the worst, Will,” she chuckled out.

“I know I am.  Now come on.”

Aberdeen took his hand and stepped onto the ice gingerly.  William pulled her away from the edge of the rink slowly.  “Okay, bend your knees,” he began.  “You can’t skate with tight legs.”

For an almost embarrassingly long time, William taught Aberdeen the basic ins and outs of skating.  He was patient with her as he skated back and forth with her, pushing and pulling her along.  He’d grab her if she tripped, wrapped his arms around her if she almost slipped and fell, and tried to make her laugh as much as possible.  Jason would join in sometimes, holding her other hand as he and William pulled her along.  Jennifer and Bee acted like her own personal cheerleaders.  Eventually, she got the hang of it, able to skate around without having her hands out to balance her and with the ability to turn along the edges.  Morgan skated by and joked she was going to replace William on the line with John.  The smile on her face and giggle in her voice could light up the night sky.

For William, it was the best part of the night by far.

***

Brendan was so happy that everybody was having fun; so happy to see the smiles on people’s faces as they skated around the rink, running into each other like bumper cars and taking group pictures.  He loved seeing the comradery of his team outside the rink – the comradery of his entire organization outside of the offices.  The Christmas party was a huge success, and he couldn’t be happier.  

As he leaned his forearms down against the boards outside the rink, he watched everybody having a good time.  A few of the players skated by to have a quick chat.  Auston came first, then Jason and Freddie Gauthier together.  

“What a great party!” William smiled as he skated up to him, looking out at everyone having fun on the ice.  

Brendan nodded his head.  “We’re lucky Dani invited us and did all this for us.  Much better than some stuffy dinner, I think.”

“Definitely,” William agreed, nodding his head.  

Brendan nodded his head too, following William’s line of sight.  Aberdeen was posing with Bee McTavish, Aryne Tavares, and Courtney Muzzin.  Brendan smiled.  “Be careful, William.”

William’s brows furrowed at his words as he turned to look at him.  “Sir?”

“She can’t do anything with you until she leaves,” Brendan said, standing upright.  “And you can’t do anything with her.”

[starkeristheendgame]

I would love to read something about peter accidentally stealing a piece of Tony’s clothing without either of them noticing, but it’s something extremely valuable and everyone else (like maybe peters friends from collage or something) notice and are very confused. Would you write something like this? (It’s totally fine if not)

This was the actual cutest idea, and I loved writing this! I hope this is the kind of cute-awkward you were going for. Thank you sm for sending me this, honey! I’m an absolute sucker for clothes sharing. This begins as unest and is AU from AOU+. Peter is 18+

The first time it happened, it was a slate grey shirt with silver-leaf decor, the front brazenly depicting a boy with a wolf’s muzzle face. There was an oil stain on the right sleeve where it fluttered about his bicep, and a charred hole on the hem where Tony had skewered it with a soldering iron. Peter had just lost his own shirt to a grinding machine, and had accepted the shirt that Tony had offered him thoughtlessly, promising to bring it back on his next visit. 

Tony had waved him off and told him not to worry - The shirt was old and he had plenty others. Peter had thought nothing of it, not bothering to change as he collapsed into his bed. He had an early lecture in the coming morning, and he’d overstayed at Tony’s. Again.

He still lacked any thought on it when he awoke to his final alarm shrieking at him insistently, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly swallowing his toothbrush as he floundered to get ready. He skid to a halt in front of his bedroom mirror, eyed what he’d gone to sleep in, and deemed it acceptable. The shirt was clean - He’d only worn it to bed that night, and his jeans surprisingly matched it well. 

It was like any other morning, until he’d been in line at the lunch hall for a coffee, and the girl walking past had stuttered to a halt, eyes wide. “Oh, my, God. Is that a Yohji Yamamoto?!” She’d squealed, eyes wide and round, and Peter had blinked across at her, sleep-dead and at a loss. “That thing is like, a thousand dollars! Its limited edition!” She continued, and Peter glanced down, ready to defend his piece of shit shirt. 

Except. 

It wasn’t just a piece of shit, ratty old shirt, was it? No, because it had come from billionaire Tony Stark’s closet. He cringed, lip curling as he stared at the shimmering silver pattern. Ah, fuck. How could he explain this? Several people had noticed her loud speech and were staring, curiosity piqued. And, why wouldn’t they? Scruffy Peter Parker in a thousand dollar shirt. 

“I don’t think so” he barked nervously, before his brain had even come up with a plausible explanation. “I got this at a thrift store! Yeah. A thrift store, so. I mean, if it looks like some fancy shirt, its definitely a knock off” he laughed nervously, clamouring desperately for his coffee before he cast her an awkward smile and shuffled off, fleeing the lunch hall. 

Luckily, he had an old zip-up in his bag, and he tugged it on over the shirt. It meant he boiled in his last classes, but nobody else asked him about his thousand dollar shirt. He drove home with the windows down and the AC on, and when he pulled up outside his apartment, he paused, and rummaged for his phone. It took almost ten minutes to find the shirt he was wearing, but when he did, he sucked in air through his teeth and shoved his phone away. Yikes. A thousand? Closer to two thousand. 

The second time it happened, Peter had been to breakfast with Tony before classes. The older man had presented him with a beautiful custom Rolex, complete with deep, red rubies and rich blue kyanite. An early birthday present Tony had said, clasping it around his wrist with a warm, satisfied smirk. Peter’s birthday was months away, but Tony wouldn’t hear anything of it. 

He’d grown so used to the weight of it in between eating and talking that he’d completely forgotten about it by the time he arrived at his morning study session, sinking down at the library table and pulling out his books. MJ was already there, and Peter offered her a shy smile as he kicked his bag under the table. They were tentative friends after getting to know each other near the end of their final year, and though Peter had outgrown his initial crush, he was still glad she’d gone to the same college as him and Ned. 

He was just pulling out a pen from his case when MJ shifted. “Hey, nerd. What’s on your wrist?” And Peter’s heart seized then skipped when he cast a careless glance aside and watched the sharp halogen lights glint off the brand new gold and precious stones. His first thought was ‘aw, fuck. Not again’ and then his second was ‘how the fuck can I explain a Rolex that costs more than this building?’ 

“Fake!” He yelped, and ducked his head when a sprightly girl two tables across leaned forwards to glare at him. “I mean, y’know. My Aunt...Bought it for me. Thought she’d found a real Rolex on Ebay for $40, y’know? Ha. Some people” he coughed to clear his throat and to hide the fact that his voice had risen several pitches before he reached for his wrist, tugging his sleeve down over it. 

When he looked up, she levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look that clearly stated she thought he was a few marbles short. He spent the rest of the study session twitchy and tense, and she spent the rest of it reading and glancing at him now and then like she was afraid he might start frothing at the mouth. When the hour was finally over, Peter ran back to his car, wrapped the watch in several soft tissues from the restroom and hid it in the glove compartment. 

MJ didn’t mention the lack of watch, but she did pointedly stare at his arm for the rest of the day. It made him prickly and jumpy; a thousand worst-case scenarios running through his mind. Nobody knew he was Spiderman, and since joining college he’d done his best to keep the ‘Stark Industries Internship’ thing on the down-low. That was relatively easy, since most people hadn’t believed it in the first place. As for Spiderman - The only people who knew were May and Ned. He kind of intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

He was vigilant then, for the next few weeks. He inspected himself carefully before getting out of his car at college, and he always made sure to remind Ned to remind him any time he wore anything that a struggling college student wouldn’t. All in all, after three months had passed with only a few close calls, he felt pretty secure. 

That was, naturally, his doom. 

But! In his defence, Tony Stark had kissed him. On the mouth. And not by accident, either. One moment Peter was talking about his Chemistry class and how the next Tony Stark was kissing him, lips warm and a little chapped, stubble pricking at the corners of his mouth. 

They'd kissed for almost an hour after that, gripping onto each other, learning what made the other twitch and moan. Tony liked his lip sucked and Peter liked his hair pulled and it had led to eager grinding and groping. Peter had never been more loathe to leave, but he had dinner plans with Aunt May that night. 

Their first kiss had evolved into kissing every time they were together, chaste and shy or filthy and wet like teenagers. Groping turned into Mr. Stark jacking him off and sucking him down, to Peter sucking him in return and to slowly working their way towards Peter getting done up the ass for the first time (four times, actually. Peter was insatiable and Tony had been more than happy to oblige). 

It had been a Thursday night, though, and Peter had a mid-day lecture on Friday. His own shirt had been used as a rag from the first and third rounds, so he shyly accepted when Tony offered him an old, soft black one. It was ratty and stained and he thought nothing of wearing it to his lecture, scribbling notes furiously and paying attention because they had a test in two weeks time. 

Towards the end of the lecture, he felt something brush at itch at the back of his neck, and he twisted to find the girl from the lunch hall sat directly behind him, her arm retreating. He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even recognised that she was in his class at the time. 

"You had fluff caught on your shirt" she noted casually, though her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Peter gave her a weak smile, mouthed 'thanks' and turned back around. 

It was relatively forgotten until he was done for the day, paused near the doors to try and find his power bank. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and he looked up they stopped near him. Standing there was the girl from his class, and he offered her a warm but puzzled smile. "Hi?" He asked after a pause where she simply stared at him with folded arms. 

"I know your secret" she announced, and he nearly dropped his bag, grumbling to catch it as his heart ticked up. That could mean anything - Tony? Spiderman? Even just the spider bite could be disastrous. He'd have scientists experimenting on him and then they'd know and- 

"Secret?" He barked out a little hysterically, straightening. "What secret? I don't have any. Not any worth exploiting, anyway. I mean, I peed in the pool once, but I was six and I-" 

"I know how you're getting such expensive clothes" she interrupted, arching a brow at him, though the corner of her mouth had ticked up into a smile. 

"What? Oh, the shirt the other month? I told you, it was a knockoff" Peter stuttered nervously, and she gestured. 

"You're wearing a Gucci shirt right now". 

"What? No I'm not. Have you seen this thing?" He asked, plucking at the hem, even as he died a little inside. Was it too much to ask for Tony to shop at Target once in a while? 

"Well, it's in horrible condition, but I looked at the tag in class. I know how you're getting all this expensive stuff" she repeated, and Peter twitched a little, glancing around the hall before shuffling out of the way a little. 

"I want in" she added, following him, and he paused, blinking across at her while his coherent thoughts stuttered to a stop. 

"Uh."

"I want you to teach me". 

"...Uh…"

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're a Sugar Baby, Parker. There's no other way you could afford all this stuff, and nobody puts Gucci in a thrift store. I want you to teach me how to do it. Show me what website you used or whatever". 

Peter stared at the wall over her shoulder, his thoughts effectively flat-lined. Sugar Baby? Website? Teach her? 

"Listen, I don't know who your guy is or how you did it, but clearly, he's minted. And sharing. I'm only able to work part-time around my studies, and I want in. I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not a bitch, I just want to be able to afford stuff" her voice softened at the end, and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, trying to kick his brain into gear. 

On one hand, she thought he was fucking an old guy for ratty Gucci shirts. On the other, this was the perfect out for all his mishaps. He considered it, head tilting as the corners of his mouth dipped down, and then he nodded. 

"Sure, why not".

[dise7se]

threshold

by: @spideysforce (7k)

rating: general/teen and up audiences

relationships: peter parker & tony stark, peter parker & mj & johnny storm & gwen stacy

characters: peter parker, tony stark, michelle jones, johnny storm, gwen stacy, &  ned leeds

summary:

peter: 17, a little shit camper, teenager, about to leave for college and it’s the end of summer

tony: a tired, 27 year old man, turns into a teeangers dad

buzzfeed unsolved au, a msyterious warehouse at summer camp, and found family

leave comments and kudos on ao3

When Peter first got to camp, it was tortuous. It felt like aunt May was sending him for some kiddie math camp, for fuck’s sake, he was 17. 

Stark Camp was an elite stem camp, only the brightest minds arrived here, no matter what their demographic, income, or social status. He applied, or was forced to apply by May, to work on robotics projects whilst there. To Peter’s absolute horror, whoever this billionaire trust-fund guy Stark was, was his camp counselor. 

His fucking camp counselor. 

Peter heard about the first summer camp session, he was participating in the second, which started at the beginning of August. His friends came back home to Queens from Stark camp, a ghost rattling in the old shell of their bodies, their soulless eyes begging for reprieve, the dark circles under their eyes indicating their primal instinct for victory in the camp competitions, to impress the mysterious genius billionaire they so desperately wanted to rob.

He spent the entirety of the summer trying to escape the camp, it was like everyday Mr. Stark (no, he won’t call him anything else,) targeted him only, saw some sort of promise in him, but he’d merely point to his friends and take the burden of being recognized off of him. May’s math camp. No. He can’t be noticed here, because maybe they’ll start talking about college, and how to prepare for college. Yuck.

Not that Peter was avoiding going to college, of course he’s applying. But it’s summer. His last summer before college, he needs to go out with a bang. Not some nerd camp in upstate New York. At least MJ is here. He’s 99% sure she joined to make fun of everyone’s projects, be condescending, and cause as many issues as she can while simultaneously keeping productivity to the bare minimum by scaring everyone. Yeah, that’s MJ right there.

He peeked back at her from over his shoulder and away from his robotics equipment during their scheduled tech building time, she sat at the table behind him to talk to the group about, 10 minutes ago, Peter forgot while he secretly executed Plan Ghouls, (yes MJ named it), while Tony oversaw everyone in the recreation center at camp, and maybe it’s because the Stark family is fucking rich they don’t deserve any money at all, this building looks way too nice to be here. 

It was like Tony Stark, this billionaire who is barely even 30 years old, was fucking with him, Peter Parker personally. Did he enjoy tormenting his group? He acted warily around MJ, like finding a wire in a maze leading to a fuse. He’d never seen anything more glorious; a nearly thirty year old man scared of a 17 year old. Peter analyzed the older man and concluded that he is an eight year old with the wisdom of an eighty year old.

Ned promised he’d call every single day of camp, and Peter thought he’d actually die without his best friend at camp, disintegrate on the spot like some formidable being pulling apart every atom, until he’s lost in the atmosphere, drifting away like he never existed. He missed his best friend, okay? Who else would he talk to about.. the thing, his weird spider senses, and possible crime he could stop from 100 miles away from Queens.

His guy on the computer had other plans for the end of the summer, his family was going to visit their cousins that Ned conveniently was ecstatic to go on, leaving Peter to rot and die alone in summer camp. A haunted summer camp.

Peter snuck another entire circuit board into his pocket. Morally, this is very wrong. He reprimands himself over it. But, technically, he paid for this with his camp fee? 

He uses less equipment for his actual projects than.. their secret project. He will use the same amount of equipment, just one is not prohibited because he technically can’t make secret projects on the side that may or may not pertain to the spooky warehouse half a mile out that Tony Stark refuses to comment on.

“Hey!” MJ yells right beside his ear, and he fumbles the lego pieces he contemplated taking in his hands and screeches. She laughs, holding her side, “Did I scare you?”

Peter plasters the best glare he can on his face, “No, you didn’t, I just yawned.” She will not win, whatever contest she made up in her head for the…. ghost catching competition, he will be two steps ahead of her and he will win. No matter how many horror movies they watch, and no matter how scared he is of her when she has no reaction except for laughter during their movie nights in the woods at night with the rest of the camp.

Countdown to Plan Ghoul’s execution: 3 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes.

—

They became acquainted with the weird, annoying show-off Johnny the second week of camp. So, last week. Peter wouldn’t call Johnny his friend, maybe not even acquaintance, but Johnny wears ugly cargo pants and stuffs them with extra robotics lab equipment like beakers, (what the fuck do they need beakers for?), and somehow stuffed a Kit in his shirt. He’s sure Johnny is going to forget and sit down with a beaker in his pants and break his ass with glass.

MJ was the first to initiate the alliance at the beginning of camp. They’ve been here for the second half of their summer, so of course she devised a devious plan. 

They both hated Johnny at first, and that is exactly why Peter watched MJ reel Johnny into their plans once they’re in the Stark Camp Lab. MJ acted dryly and sarcastically around everyone she hated, drawing her to Johnny and Peter suffered the consequences. Peter lost count of the amount of times Johnny showed off his projects to the camp counselors, not long after stealing parts from a group nearby. MJ watched, intrigued, and Peter would always end up with his head down on his desk. And MJ would follow suit with Tony’s back to them, she would gather up all of Johnny’s wrenches, bolts, his keychain, and he’s pretty sure she got an arm of the collaborative robot in the corner.

And then the next dewy morning, the humidity was too thick and their eyes were unable to open from the night before because Tony told a story about a demon coming to life at the campfire, it’s real Tony has totally seen it, MJ and Peter were on breakfast duty with the camp counselors. The smell of tinder reeked on their flannels, but Tony pulled out the chocolate chips the moment he arrived, the other camp counselors shot glares at him. Peter had to turn away to hide his snicker.

This is when they met Gwen. She was part of another camp counselors group, and the two of them had their hair done, Gwen had cool piercings, even one on her face, with a vinyl knapsack by her feet full of patches. Her camp counselor has an itinerary, and oh, my god, it’s laminated, and Peter’s eyes widen and he thinks his pupils turned into the shape of hearts. The last time he saw an itinerary and Tony did not lose them while hiking was the first day of camp. Gwen’s camp counselor, Jen, even brought snacks for all of them. 

MJ propped herself up on a nearby table in the kitchen and Tony rambled on about how his father never sent him to camp, and if he knew he’d practically be a boy scout out here in the woods he might’ve considered it. Peter thinks he heard the man say he was working towards his bachelor degree at their age. What a weird guy.

Johnny walked in, and Jen, the cool camp counselor reads out his last name and it’s Storm?! Peter imagines Johnny is the type of guy to steal his hypothetical sister’s toys and bury them in his suburban backyard and blame it on ghosts, and of course he tells MJ this theory.

MJ flips pancakes on the stoves, the hiss of the pancake mix to heat loud enough to drown out her inconspicuous whispers Peter nearly drops his spatula from her blaring whisper, “I sketched a prototype and stole Tony’s pencil. Our first prototype is called the Poltergeist Machine.”

He lowers his shoulders and sends his best glare, snarling and pointing with his head at Tony who is two feet away and yelling at someone on the phone about the physics kit they needed for today. “Are you crazy?! Also, that’s the ugliest name I’ve ever heard.”

MJ snarls back and throws her arms up, “Okay, well maybe names are not my forte!” And when Peter mumbled maybe under his breath, he really did know from a sixth sense that her shove was coming. And his shoulder nudges into something, and ouchie, that hurt, and it’s fucking Tony, off the phone and staring at them with his eyebrow quirk. Peter thinks he practices it in the mirror every night before bed, like brushing his teeth. He does it every day. He had never seen the man’s reaction into Peter physically bumping into him, though they did like messing with him. He was their counselor, they were bound to test his boundaries to see how much it would take to get in trouble, they’re sweet teenagers and not heathens. 

Tony did nothing, and awkwardly shoved him away when Peter just stared and gawked at him. 

Johnny and Gwen talked about college with Tony, who stayed on his phone and muttering, “Yeah, kids, you’ll get in,” and, “sure, yeah, we can work out a letter of rec,” and Peter pondered over his inability to plan more than three minutes ahead and felt a drop low in his stomach, because in two weeks he’d be beginning his college applications for senior year. 

He and Ned had their own college plan, to keep his guy in the chair nearby while he could vigilante his college town and get a physics degree. Ned gravitated toward an engineering degree or a journalism degree, he’d probably double major. That was the best plan they’ve made so far. This, and their plan ghoul, Ned had sent cryptic messages about the nearby warehouse being abandoned and never showing up on maps online. Ned had yelled very loudly over the phone to be careful because this might require Spider-Manning, and Peter yelled over his voice so nobody else could hear. 

Johnny had glared at him from ten feet away in the field during that phone call and walked away.

And he looked at him the same way now. This little shit. I  will get into college. Maybe I’ll get my own Tony letter of rec without showing off. 

Peter knows what’s going to happen next when he turns to stomp away, his foot caught in the strap of MJ’s backpack she left thrown on the floor and sends him skidding. Geez. He hears metal clanking, and what the fuck, did he knock over a table or something? And MJ throws herself towards her backpack before his brain can connect her actions to conclusion, and there’s a robot hand skidding across the floor the same, resigned way he did. 

The robot hand. The fucking robotic hand. 

They’d have to face Mr. Stark’s wrath, and he feels like he’s entered Hell, forget the commandment and We should fear and love God so we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him and he hears the robotic and smash into the table and break, and Tony lunges at it like it’s some family heirloom that he intentionally broke.

“MJ!” He squeaks, like he hasn’t been through puberty and is nearly an adult. Johnny’s mouth falls open and he tugs on Gwen’s sleeve as if everybody here to cook breakfast wasn’t staring in awe, and he hears war cries from MJ demanding whoever planted these supplies come forward and reveal themselves or she’d send a witch to curse them. 

It was like a 1995 school drama show, the pancakes burning on the stove and the unamused camp counselors fiddle with the ends of their shirts and Tony stares at the sight of devastation and MJ sheepishly smiles. Gwen is the first to break the silence, she snorts unattractively and covers her face. “Sorry. That was a little funny.”

Tony merely zeroed in his gaze  on the two of them, hovering over them though he wasn’t much taller, attempting to humble them with his menacing face. He points two fingers at his eyes in the I’m watching you way, signaling his two fingers back to them. It’s not like they hadn’t witnessed Tony the day before steal the flags for their ‘capture the flag’ game because they kept losing.  

--

Stem camp was camp, Peter woke up scrambled every day, usually covering his face from the morning sun when Tony would pound on the door and swing it open and let the morning sun blind him. He isn’t sure how he woke up MJ, but he always waits 15 minutes after he wakes up Peter, and he thinks he hears gentle knocks and a little, “Good morning!” before he takes off to begin his day with way too much caffeine and energy.

Tony, in all his glory, is a hot mess and begs his supervisor to let him join the kids’ activities, and she usually says no but he jumps into the lake, anyways, yelling at MJ and Peter to use life vests. The camp supervisor, Virginia Potts, is usually in leggings and a t-shirt or tank top, her strawberry-blond hair in a ponytail, and always has her clipboard in her arms with tidied stacks of paper. She is always smiling, is modulated and soothing, like honey in a comb in the sun. Whenever Peter runs into her, he immediately straightens his back and wonders if its worth borrowing the robotics equipment before they put it back for plan ghoul. 

Pepper usually stands at the edge of the lake, a fixed gaze set on a floating Tony, her tin tucked in and her hip out. The first time Tony decided to ditch his camp counselor duties and join in with them and was approached by Pepper, he waved to her from the top of a rock enthusiastically. “Tony!” she exclaimed and everything she lectured him about seemed to go in one ear and come out the other.

“What is the number one rule of being a camp counselor, Mr. Stark?” Pepper had asked, while Tony striked Peter with a toy lightsaber they built that afternoon, and he nearly doubled over but was grabbed by the shoulders and held up by the menace in question. The weight of the saber wasn’t very heavy and it was made up of plastic, but Peter yanks the cool metal sword from his counselor’s arm. He’s never had any siblings and doesn’t know if Tony has either, but talking about baseball and college and physics having someone surprisingly grounding and comforting when he wandered off while hiking and busted his knee, for some reason Tony was good at first-aid.

--

“We totally  deserve a team pet!” Peter huffed at the campfire, their group settling in after a round of night zip-lining. 

“For God’s sake, we will not adopt a stray racoon for the team,” Tony yells from inside the cabin, bringing his stash of s’mores supplies he kept hidden and possibly explains the ants on the premise and not secured in the kitchen. “A mascot, maybe.”

“Please, this is Cranberry Lake, we do not need a pet to keep us from the ghosts,” Gwen declares, and before she can continue Peter screeches.

“So, you do admit there are ghosts!” 

Tony shivers dramatically once he rejoins the group in front of the campfire and the fire crackles in his face. Peter gasps, and Tony turns in worry, fearing the fucking kid is fucking asphysxiating. “You see! Tony just shivered when you mentioned the ghosts.” “Lowering your voice won’t do anything, you dipshit!” Johnny unnecessarily adds, getting tossed by a marshmallow and being directed into the direction of the nearby trees to sit in timeout by the all-knowing being Tony who declared if they cussed anymore they’d be sent to timeout, the Goddamned Almighty. 

“One more bad word out of you guys and next time you’re going to watch me swim in the lake, using all of your floaties while you watch from the dirt, wallowing in your own despair.” 

“Can I go back to Jen’s group?”

“Absolutely not. You three are keeping me alive at camp as it is,” Tony informs them as if they hadn’t noticed the man was really an 8 year old in an adult’s body. “Even Pepper agreed. She says my campers keep me alive.”

--

Tony floats on his back in the outdoor pool, the cold water reflects the sun and Peter floats nearby on a yellow inflatable pool float with printed dandelions on it. 

His friends chatter nearby, but his head leaning against the plastic floaty drowns the sound out. He hears his inner ear and hates it. Tony grunts, moving to grab his glass with juice and a small umbrella in it. This billionaire, the head of a company producing the world’s greatest and innovative technology was ridiculous. 

“Queens is..” Peter starts their conversation again, afraid he’s too quiet and the older man didn’t hear him. “Queens is my home. May and Ben raised me there, and being away from it sucks. I can’t be there to help.”

MJ sits at the other end of the pool on the hot cement, gasping when she lowers her legs in. She sounds too far away to them, in their own little corner. He raises his head to see if Tony had even heard him, but he seemed sipped from his drink and hummed to himself.

He waited for an answer before he nearly blew his cover again.

“Hometown of Parker. On Long Island, Citi Field, and supposed home of a vigilante, I think,” Tony supplies an answer, and Peter thinks, shit, he knows, “Once, Spider-Man dropped a hot-dog on my head.”

Peter laughs, freely, and shit, act natural, Peter, because the older man that he trusts but can’t seem to get the words off his tongue, his identity reveal, he’s never wanted to tell anybody else. Ever. It was his responsibility, his alter-ego, but he trusts him, for some reason.

The earth aligned them together, and whatever brought them together doesn’t make any sense. 

A mentor who understood him, who was a mere 10 years older than him, who had regrettably become friends with his Aunt May, and those two were forces in his life he wouldn’t know what to do without. Maybe that’s what happens when someone mentors you all summer and genuinely cares.

Tony was brilliant. Sure, him being here was confusing, but he wanted hands on experience in his company. Tony told them stories of the previous campers and which ones reminded Tony of them. When in the college application workshop the camp offered, he revised Peter’s papers and saw another piece of him on paper. 

Tony Stark was caring, gentle, he was a walking encyclopedia, his skepticism had kept a barrier around him at the beginning of the summer, but slowly thawed out the more he lived. If words have had no weight his entire life, he’s owing it to every teenager here to keep his promises and Peter wonders if anyone has ever kept their promises to Tony. A glass barrier, built from sand and liquid and carefully molded to protect him and encase him. 

Practically a kid when he lost his parents. Peter had read about it in the papers and saw news channels open every fragile wound on TV, and he remembers the news reporters surrounding Uncle Ben’s death. 

He isn’t sure what else has the older man so guarded, but he knows they are slowly breaking the crystalline around him, his meddling heart wrapped around this camp and the brilliant minds. He knows Tony is good, past his cynicism is pure optimism, and is is an excessive coffee drinking, smells of motor oil and marshmallows, mentors anybody he can, and the damaged heart he hides, who makes special tech presents for the students, smudged ink on his hands from his blueprints, is good. 

And Peter hopes he can model who he is after Tony. Spider-Man can strive to be someone like Tony, because the 27 year old understands what it means to invest in his community. And Queens is his home, he’s sure Tony will take care of it once he’s gone for college. Tony is human, he bleeds, he hurts, he doesn’t crack under pressure but quakes alone.

The man who emerges from the tech lab every morning at 6am because he forgot to sleep, yeah, that’s Peter’s mentor. How’d he get himself in this spot?

He turns back to Tony, “My uncle Ben used to tell me people are ugly, unlovable, they are their failures, but then they’d constantly prove him wrong. He wasn’t a pessimist, he was the opposite. But he saw the ugliness in New York, in Queens. But then he’d see sons hugging and kissing their mothers, he’d see local students building churches from scratch, and older siblings wiping their siblings’ tears when they played outside.”

Tony quirks a brow, but listens. He really listens, and he doesn’t know if he can finish. “He talked in constant epithets with our neighbors. Their gardens, his wisdom, and about how people always came together. Always.

“Maybe that’s who Spider-Man is trying to save, trying to represent in Queens. I think it’s what people like Ben would want to help. And I don’t want to leave, it’s my little sanctuary. This is the longest I’ve been away from Queens.”

Tony playfully flicked water towards Peter, who dodged it and splashed water back. He could be petulant, too. “I hope this spider-guy is watching over you in Queens. I know your Uncle Ben is. And I know, I know, it’s cheesy as hell, but he really is. I remember my Ma used to visit me in my dreams at my worst times.

“I had no one to go to. My family was gone, and I wanted to do better. Be better. At my rock bottom, I was brought back up by my dad’s best friend. He stayed by my side since they died.. And when I found out he wanted to steal the company from me, I knew I could never let people like that taint more kids in the future in this field. In any field, really. I think I have a responsibility with this camp, and I know my mom would be proud of me. And I know your uncle will be proud, too, because I’ve got your back, too.”

The breath is knocked out of Peter, because oh fuck, this camp counselor who was unwilling to budge, had opened up and was vulnerable and was scared of being stabbed in the back but trusted him.

Tony cracks a smile, supine on his back over the water again in no time and drags the pool floaty with him after he kicks off the wall. They float over to the group, and the weight in Peter’s sternum subdues. An ache he forgot was there, learned to live with, and Tony’s words ring in his head the rest of the day. He tells May about it and never stops missing her.

--

Peter reached into his canvas duffle bag with the initials, ‘BFP,’ embroidered into it and found the white baseball jersey he last remembers seeing when he was twelve years old. His cabin is chilly today, so it must be cold outside. The sun hides behind the clouds so he shrugs a long sleeve shirt on, then the jersey. 

They were going to play a game of baseball this morning, his muscles still aching from rock climbing and hiking the previous day. He was Spider-Man, he had a lot of endurance, but he hadn’t been exercising for a while. He missed feeling this; feeling fatigued but not from a night out as a vigilante. He and MJ climbed the rocks at least three separate times, their ropes clipped snugly to their bodies and Tony had reached the top to tie their ropes. They stupidly swung over the edges, dangling over the forest and had views of the lake. Johnny wasn’t scared of heights, but yelped every time his foot slipped and loose gravel jerked around him. Gwen swung back and forth, in a way that made Peter’s heart lurch when she kicked her feet off the rocks and threw her head back, lowering herself down.

It was an exhaustion that had a lightweight feeling to it. 

He wasn’t dizzied from the adrenaline of catching a perpetrator in time, or whatever criminal of the night presented themselves in Queens. 

Johnny had chased Peter, while rock climbing, and Peter felt genuine warmth for his friends. His best friends. They sent videos to Ned, Johnny and Gwen had been on a Facetime call with them the day before and declared whoever is friends with Peter, are their friends now. MJ shared her flannel, the one she wore around her waist once she noticed Peter’s calloused and cold hands when they brushed hands on the ropes. Gwen threatens to beat the shit out of Johnny if he bumps into her again, and once they reach the waterfall past the mounds of boulders they push each other in. 

Tony had sat on the side, pretending that he didn’t have a camera strapped around his neck and two bundles of film gathered from the summer.

And seeing the initials on his dufflebag this morning, Peter wishes he could march into his home, what it was once before, and announce his future profession to Uncle Ben. Because he’s stuck. Ben Parker would laugh, reminding Peter he wasn't much of a scientist himself, yet they’d ponder over every possibility they could. 

Ben, who smelled of cinnamon and coffee and New York, and Tony knocked on his cabin door before he could wrestle the baseball jersey on because the sight of it sent him reeling. Maybe May had accidentally packed it? Did she do this on purpose? They knew he would become homesick; he hasn’t left May’s for long. The longest he stayed away was for his DC trip in freshman year.

“Come in!” Peter calls.

“Hey, kid,” Tony opens the door, dressed in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, with bags under his eyes that he seems to have everyday. He looks young; but he can notice the signs of smile and worry lines around his young-adult face. “You’re late. The kiddos sent me to check on you. We’re all waiting.”

“Sorry, I just needed to get dressed--”

Peter cuts himself off, breathing in the baseball jersey while he slides it over his head. And it was a smell he hadn’t smelled in years. May was more of a nostalgic and sentimental person, and held onto Ben’s objects. They’d peer through photo albums together, and Peter would silently grief sometimes, but he was back at the Mets game Ben fought to buy tickets for and took to. The fresh air, the golden sun, Ben’s oversized hat covered Peter’s forehead and eyes. Ben was in every stitch of the material. His mind retrieved whatever image of Ben it could, and Peter couldn’t breathe.

“I--” His breath wavered and betrayed him, and Tony looked at him with a concerned face. 

Peter can hear his phone buzzing with texts from Ned, probably responding to his breakdown over possible college majors he sent in a daze this morning when he saw an article about comets in their solar system, composed of water, dust, ice, and carbon monoxide. And he felt like one of those comets now, launched into the air with no destination and freefalling. 

The jersey was his actual size now, and Johnny yelled from outside the cabin, “Pete, hurry up or you’ll be catching the whole game!” Tony stared back at Peter in concern, maybe he could see through him. He hadn’t hidden his teen angst that much this summer, maybe Tony still remembers teen angst. Hopefully he didn’t call him out over his childish brain losing it on a Saturday morning at camp. Was it homesickness? Tony probably only dealt with kid campers being homesick.

“Sorry, shoot, I just lost track of my sentence,’ Peter says and it comes out like a question. 

He didn’t expect for Tony’s face to soften; the usual distant and withdrawn appearance is replaced with a small smile and a squeeze to his shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s play ball and possibly pop one of our shoulders out of our sockets by accident again.”

Peter snorted passed the burning tears threatening to spill, wiping them across his sleeve and noticed the man take a step back towards the door. “Yeah, right, ‘us.’ That was you, old man.”

Tony ducks his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and leaving a gap of space between them. He gives him a slight shove to the field, and Peter catches the ball in time before it strikes him in the face. Of course, that was MJ’s doing. 

They played until Peter fell over on the floor, dust spreading in the air around him on the field and stinging his eyes. He definitely hurt his shoulder.

Tony had half the mind to chortle at him once he sat Peter up, already sending Gwen to grab an ice pack and the first aid kit. He couldn’t help it; he’s clumsy. His spider senses are quiet here, only arising once this entire summer: when Tony followed him, Johnny, Gwen, and MJ down the rocks and found Tony huddled on a narrow precipice clutching his chest. He had a distant look in his eyes; Peter thought he had recognized that look on himself before. He was out of breath and his face was pale. Gwen chimed in from behind, “Are we still canoeing later today? Or is today archery?”

And that was smart. Tony schooled his face, and he must have tons of practice if it came so easily. He wouldn’t have guessed Tony was working himself out of a panic attack if it weren’t for the paleness of his face, but Gwen’s questions were good. They were about fifty feet off the ground, and he had almost slipped. At least, that’s what he heard.

The quietness of his spider senses didn’t scare him. It should have, but it didn’t. Maybe it would soon enough. Johnny sits down on the other side of him, asking Peter to squeeze his hand if he needs to. 

“Ah, shit, I promise it’s not that bad,” Peter says, already heading towards the nearest wall to reset his shoulder himself. He’s done this once before, thinks; once, there was an apartment building fire and he pulled out dozens of people, smoke fumes messing with his vision and chest. He had to reset his shoulder before pulling out a teeanger, grunting and pushing his arm against a nearby wall with the fire on his heels.

“Hey, kid,” Tony asserts, holding his hands up. “Can I? It hurts more if you do it. I can promise you that.”

Maybe it was because of being emotional over Ben’s baseball jersey, or missing May’s hugs and Ned’s hugs, meeting him by his locker every morning and how much he’ll miss them all for college that is a year away, was just stupid. And stupid over being upset over having to leave the nerdy stem camp and leave Tony behind. 

It wasn’t fair for him to be attached. He was like a mentor, an older brother, just from the past month. It wasn’t fair for him to ask for advice constantly, but has a feeling this man was more than a camp counselor to their group. For fuck’s sake, he shed a tear in front of him and the man let him.

Peter nods to his answer, already ducking his head and inhaling a deep breath. “Good, yeah, deep breath. You’ve got the right idea,” Tony says, grabbing his shoulder. There’s a slight pop when Tony pushes, and Peter bites back his pain and tastes blood. 

Tony holds onto his arm, and nods towards the rest of the concerned group, searching for any indication that Peter is okay. Gwen wipes a tear from his cheek, and he wonders what he would’ve done this summer without them. And what he’ll do if he doesn’t see them again. Maybe they’ll keep in touch, or apply to the same colleges. He didn’t want to lose them and the safety he felt with them.

--

“Okay, Peter, I told you for the millionth time, you connect the black wire to the circuit to get R2’s voice commands working,” Ned ordered the phone, and had given him, Johnny, MJ, and Gwen directions to the abandoned warehouse. 

It was kind of Tony’s fault for demanding a nap and leaving the four of them with another camp counselor that wasn’t as competent as he was.Well, to call Tony competent is a bit of a stretch, his methods are nonchalant. Hence, MJ is in the corner reading them murder stories from the 1930s and remindingthem the ghosts still linger in the woods of upstate New York, right where they are.

“Yeah, yeah, MJ, the eighty-year old ghost is here to haunt us,” Peter mutters, ignoring Ned’s directions because he is totally wrong. “Ned, no. Absolutely not. What is this, LEGOs sensors?”

“Oh, my God, if you’re going to tell a joke then make it funny,” Johnny groans, “It looks like a UFO.”

“Fuck you, Johnny!” Peter yells, tossing a wrench and then deciding he shouldn’t have done that, and hoped Johnny ducks his head in time, “It’s not UFOs! It’s R2D2, you stupid piece of shit!”

Maybe Peter was a little unhinged today. 

“Hey, ghost, knock this bookshelf down if you’re mad at us,” Gwen declares, drawing out her voice like she’s reading a ghost story to kids, “Or hold a candlestick in the middle of the room.”

The warehouse is small, it’s dark, and they use the sunlight as their lightsource. It was probably really stupid of them to break in, but this is it. Plan ghoul. And it’s the second to last night of camp, and they had vlogged the entire venture to the warehouse. 

MJ had kept all the equipment they gathered from the summer. Either Tony was completely oblivious, unaware of his surroundings at all times and chose to ignore the lack of passion in their projects all summer for this, R2D2 and Johnny’s soccer laying robot, and Gwen’s killer robot obstacle course, or Tony didn’t care. 

He was a billionaire. MJ still yells at the older man over his salary, but yesterday, he asked MJ to consult as an intern for his company and have input on the charity work the company participates in. And it was perfect for her. This was how they were wrapping their summer up; some of them receiving internships, letters of recommendation, and Peter stayed the same with the sick feeling in his stomach that he’d ruin his own life, or never be as far ahead as his peers. 

“Peter, I have the same kit in front of me. I gave you these blueprints!” Ned yells into his ear, and Peter drops his phone and breaks off R2D2’s arm. Gwen laughs, pointing out how much uglier the robot is.

“Can your ugly R2 even fit in my obstacle course?” Gwen asks, playing robot soccer with Johnny. Their controllers are loud, they beep too much, and the obstacle course is ugly. It’s really not, but he’d never admit to his new best friend how beautiful the course is and he wishes he could shrink down and play in it.

“Ghouls!” MJ yells, fiddling with her tiny robotic sensor that he’s pretty sure is a tracker she’s been planting. He makes a mental note to check his things later before leaving camp.”My bot says Johnny is in first place!”

Their robots race across the obstacle course of the filthy warehouse, the sun’s going down so they placed flashlights around the room and the golden hour sun basked the room as it set on the horizon. The room was full of laughter, MJ’s ghost monitor with activity levels he can’t understand, and Gwen runs into their pseudo soccer field to knock R2D2 over. 

They spent the rest of the night planning for college, planning to keep in touch, and devising another plan to take over Stark Industries once they all get jobs there. Peter knew he needed to go to college. He knew he couldn’t risk his family and friends and his identity.

They hear a crash outside, all of their movements hault. Peter doesn’t dare breathe, they all let their hearts pound in their chests. The sun had set by now, and Peter discreetly used his senses to listen and smell what, or who was outside. Gwen shows Peter her arm, the goosebumps set all over and she grabs the flashlight to use as a weapon. He’s impressed with her pose, but oh, shit, is it another camp goer? Did MJ fucking summon a ghoul?

Johnny shushes them, o-fucking-kay Johnny, shush the quiet group. Obnoxious. Peter blows out MJ’s candle, while she gets out her Poltergeist machine, where did she even keep it?

“Hide!”

The kids scatter, and MJ rambles through her theories of clues she’s found. “Is that a fucking bat?”

“Is it fucking Batman?”

“Peter, shut the fuck up!” Gwen chastises, elbowing him while they search for refuge behind the nearby bookcase full of dust and spiders. The shadow from outside looms, and the room is too dark to make out whoever kicks the door open.

The door was kicked open, and the group screamed. His brain clicked, his senses didn't go off.

It was fucking Tony.

Tony fucking Stark, with a casing of gold metal under his arm. And it’s his gold and red robot. 

Let’s just say Tony dragged the four of them back to the camp after destroying their robots in robot-killer-soccer. 

--

Tony does not know the impact he had on each teenagers’ lives. Maybe it was just Peter, and he was being sappy, but it was the last day of camp and the sun was setting and he was tired of the pinewood. It’d take him at least a week to get the smell of earth out of his clothes.

MJ shows affection, she hugs Gwen before they depart. Oh, God. They’re really gonna miss camp.

The summer is ending, case closed. Everybody’s packing their bags, and Peter’s pretty sure he will never recover from his scare during plan ghoul. Who would’ve known Tony had the same idea as them.

His friends, who wear his hats, who steal his food, and who wipe his tears are leaving. He has MJ. He has Ned. 

Peter had set his flannel on fire but they put him out. It was really stupid. 

Peter talked to Tony about Ben one night. He used metaphors, but he knew about Tony’s parents' loss in a car crash.

“Kid,” Tony says, pulling his attention away from the camp departures. Peter practically hopped on his toes of anticipation, walking closer to the older man. A father-figure? No. Older-brother figure? Maybe. Yes. 

“You better work hard on your college applications, kid, because I’m going to need a student researching with me at MIT,” Tony smiles, kindly, and Peter blinked. 

It still hadn’t set how much Tony believes in him. He knows he could be saying this out of kindness, out of pity maybe, but he had been the one to pull him from his reeling thoughts all summer long. 

Tony had welcomed him in the threshold, their own threshold they built together, when Peter needed someone there, to take him in, and he continued to stay in once school began. This had been the place Peter spent half the summer in, did summer homework at the poolside with Tony’s help, he accidentally left candy wrappers in Tony’s cabin and left even more ants, and grew comfortable.

“Pete, when you go off to college, I’m not kidding, don’t forget to call,” Tony says, because Peter probably looks too intense right now and doesn’t know how to unweb himself from his comfortable cocoon of a summer, and he admires his camp counselor so much.

“I’m scared,” Peter breathes, and shit, his eyes well up. And Tony is there, the smell of coffee and some sweat, pulling him into a hug and he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Oh, kid,” Tony says, “Remember all the shitty advice I gave you. Do exactly what I wouldn’t do. And remind Aunt May I’m just a camp counselor and to stop yelling at me on the phone.”

Peter chuckles, because, oh God, knowing Tony and May, they’ll both team up to watch his back. 

“I don’t want to let go of everyone here. I don’t want self pity, or anything, but like, this is the first time I felt like I’ve lived, as cheesy as that sounds,” Peter admits, wiping his sleeve. 

Gwen is the first one to tackle the both of them, then Johnny, and Tony curses to the air. “Why did I become a camp counselor. The little boogers won’t leave me alone.”

“Stop lying, you know you came here for Pepper,” MJ snorts, “Old man.”

At the end of the summer, Peter is a teenage vigilante with a secret identity, but chose to relish in being a teeanger this summer. He was his grief or loss or anxiety, he was Peter Parker. And he wouldn’t ever just be Peter again. He thinks about what he wants, and he knows he wants them in his life. And Tony had given him this threshold, one that felt like a home away from home, and a family away from his small one.

[sunmoonandeddie]

best friend’s fuck buddy

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,255

summary: Bucky is really bad at dealing with feelings.  Like, ‘I’m gonna fuck my teammate who happens to be your best friend to try to ignore my feelings for you’ kinda bad.

chapter warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.  Mentions of sex.

a/n: So like.  Saw a post today that said “yeah sex is great but have you ever been in love” and this just kinda blurted it out.  Just something quick and fun.  Let me know what you think!

“We can’t keep doing this.”  James sat on the edge of the bed, biting his lip as he stared down at the floor.  The room still smelled of sweat and sex and Natasha’s perfume and he just… couldn’t do it anymore.  He’d dragged his briefs back on the second they were finished as guilt overtook him.

And it was ridiculous.  Because he was single as shit and therefore, he had every right to sleep with a hot woman, even if he wasn’t necessarily attracted to her.  Sure, he could appreciate Nat’s whole… aesthetic, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

She wasn’t who he craved.  She wasn’t who he had been imagining under him just minutes before.

And her name definitely hadn’t been the one that had fallen from his mouth just seconds before.

“We’re really going to do this right now?” Natasha asked as she slipped out of the bed.  She pulled on a large t-shirt—Bucky was sure it was Steve’s at one point, but the girls on their little team had a habit of stealing everyone’s shirts to sleep in—and a pair of shorts.  She raised her eyebrows at him, and after realizing he was serious, said, “I guess it’s only fitting, since you moaned the wrong name while being balls deep inside of me.”  At his flustered look, she smirked.  “At least give me a minute to clean up.”

“Natasha,” he said slowly, watching as she moved to the bathroom attached to his room, as flashbacks of another life came to mind.  Memories of late-night trysts when they were both in HYDRA’s chains.  The 90s had been a wild time for the both of them.

But it never meant anything.  It was always driven by the need to feel something, even if it was just someone else’s skin in a situation that didn’t involve getting rid of a body. Raw lust clouded both of their minds and the sex that happened was primal, urgent.

Kind of like it was now.

Granted, they had much more time to fuck now, but it was still just a way to get rid of tension.  Like an extra workout.

“Bucky,” the redhead replied in a slightly mocking tone as she came out of the bathroom, tying her hair up.  She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Don’t worry. I knew what this was when we started up this whole thing again.  I was under no illusion that it was any different than when we first met.”

And that still made him feel like shit because back in the 40s, he hated guys like him.  He might’ve gone on a lot of dates and slept with a few, but he never kept a girl around just to fuck.  He’d never used someone like that before.  But Natasha had made it easy to do exactly that, because she was doing the same thing to him. She had definitely been avoiding her feelings for a certain green monster, though she’d never admit it.

“Stop it with the kicked puppy look,” she said with an eyeroll. “Y/N might find it cute, but not me.”

His cheeks went a dark red as he stared down at the floor. He knew there was no need trying to pretend that he didn’t have feelings for you.  That had gone out the window the second he moaned your name.

“You’ve really got it bad for her, huh?”  Nat laughed as she observed the man in front of her.  He was the world’s deadliest assassin—behind her, of course—and all it took was a girl to bring him to his knees.  “Are you gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?” He asked, rubbing his hands on his briefs nervously.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed.  “Don’t play stupid.  It doesn’t suit you.”  She walked over to him, resting her hand on his arm.  “Bucky, if you care about her as much a I think you do, you need to tell her.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, guilt clouding his mind.  Nat and him had been through a lot together, and it felt disrespectful, ending things because he was in love with another woman.  Her best friend, of all people.

And she just laughed again, already reaching for the door. “I’m not jealous of her, Buck. Really.”  She turned back to look at him, her green eyes glimmering in the dim light.  “Y/N is one of my best friends, and one of the best people I know.  If she makes you happy, you need to go for it.”

He stared at her with those puppy eyes of his again, though he wasn’t even aware that he was doing anything.  “What if I ruin her?”

“Ruin her?”

“Yeah,” he said with a scoff as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.  “She… She’s this…  good person.  Like you said, one of the best, and I…”  The look in his eyes broke her heart a little.  “I’m me.”

“Bucky,” she said slowly, letting out a huff.  “You’re a good person, too, you know.  You deserve someone who love’s you just as much as anyone else.”  She chuckled, the sound reverberating through the otherwise silent room.  “Maybe more than anyone else.”  Nat turned back to the door, opening it.  But she paused and glanced back towards him once more.  “Don’t push her away just because you’re scared.”

And then she was gone, the door shutting behind her with a soft click.

Bucky fell back onto his bed with a groan.  He even went as far as grabbing a pillow, holding it to his face, and screaming into it.  It didn’t help, though he supposed trying it meant something, whatever it was.  Steve was big on that, telling him that trying was always better than not trying.  Even if it was something as stupid as screaming into a pillow.

He had avoided it for so long, the feeling in his chest, but Nat’s words just made it all the more real.

He was completely, stupidly in love with you.

He was so in love with you that he couldn’t even fucking orgasm without thinking of you, no matter how icky and creepy it made him feel. He had to close his eyes while his dick was inside Natasha fucking Romanov because it wasn’t you, and had even gone as far as moaning the wrong fucking name.  Men would kill to screw her, and he had—dozens of times—and yet, he didn’t want her.

He wanted you.  Had since the first time he’d seen you, if he was being honest.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, knocking on his door.  “Living room.  ASAP.”

The man in question grunted as he pulled himself out of the bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.  It was their one day off and all he wanted to do was sleep.  But the punk he called his best friend seemed to be determined to not let it happen.

And as much as he wanted to just ignore him, he knew that if he ignored Steve he’d just come barging into Bucky’s room and drag him by his ear to the living room.

His hair was a bird’s nest, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t give any less fucks than he did in that moment.  He didn’t even care that Sam would give him shit about it.  The sooner he got to whatever was happening in the living room, the sooner he could get back to his nice, warm bed.

He dragged his feet all the way to the living room despite knowing that it annoyed the living shit out of Tony.  Whatever the reason was that Steve had dragged him out of his little safe haven, he was sure that the billionaire had a hand in it.

But he froze in his tracks the second he stepped into the living room.

He was sure that he was dreaming, because there’s no way someone as beautiful as you actually existed.  He’s sure that somewhere out there an artist is missing their muse, that you’ve stepped out of the Greek myths of Aphrodite, a goddess taking human form.

The second your eyes turned to him, he remembered his horrible case of bedhead, and subsequently decided that he wanted to throw himself from a bridge.  Maybe the one he’d seen Steve on when he was still HYDRA’s puppet.

Yeah, that one would work.

“Hi,” you said, holding your hand out for him to shake as you walk towards him, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor.  “I’m Y/N.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but no sound came out.  He just sat there staring at you like a fucking codfish. Your bright e/c eyes were staring up at him in concern, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he wanted to scream.  He’s sure there’s gotta be some kind of law against being so god damn pretty.

Steve smirked as he moved to stand beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.  “Y/N, this is Bucky Barnes.  Bucky, this is Y/N.”  He raised his eyebrows at the brunet, the smug bastard.  “She’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but she’s going to be our resident doctor.”

“Resident doctor?” Bucky repeated, and if it was possible, his eyes widened even more.

“I’m here for when one of you guys gets fucked up,” you said, shocking the man with your language.  “I’ll be going on missions with you and staying here at the compound.”

He nodded dumbly, still staring at you.

It wasn’t until you giggled that he realized he was still shaking your hand.  He quickly dropped it, his face going dark red as he pointed back towards the hallway. “I’m, uh, I’m just gonna—Yeah.”

He quickly disappeared down the hall, groaning at how badly he had just embarrassed himself.  Here he was, meeting the prettiest dame he’d ever seen, and he can’t so much as get his name out.  He finally made it back to his room and after shutting the door, let his head rest back against the wood.

He was royally fucked.

And even as he stared at his ceiling now, he has the same thought.

He was truly, thoroughly, royally fucked.

The shower he took to wash away the smell of the redheaded assassin was far too long.  He spent most of it with his head against the wall and the water hot against his back. He’d tried for months after first meeting you to ignore you, ignore how he felt, but it was to no avail.  Within just six months of first meeting you, he was entirely yours.

Even if you didn’t know it.

After his shower, he doesn’t think, and just lets his feet take him where ever.  Most of the time when he did this, he always ended up in the same place—outside the medical wing.  And whenever that happened, he’d always come up with some excuse to see you.  Usually it was something simple, like a migraine—even though he didn’t get those, thanks to the serum—but one time he had gone as far as detaching his arm just so you could reattach it.

So he’s truly not surprised to find himself outside your work space.  From the wall of windows, he can see some Will, another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, talking to you, clearly love struck as you wrap his wrist.  It had become a normal occurrence, agents doing whatever they could to visit you. One agent, Adam, he thinks, even went as far as having another agent punch him hard enough to break his nose.

You’d never noticed, though, because you were so sweet and so focused on taking care of everyone that you didn’t even realize that everyone looked at you as though you’d hung the moon and the stars.

And he didn’t even think.  He didn’t think about the possible consequences as he burst into the medical wing, because all he could focus on was how the way that Will looked at you made his blood boil.  Your eyes flick to where he’d entered, the agent immediately moving away from you and making himself scarce.

Sometimes it paid to be intimidating.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said, but the soft smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes.  Something was bothering you.

And he froze.  He stopped in his tracks, and he’s vaguely aware of the sound of the doors closing behind the long-gone agent.  “Uh…  I…”

“Are you okay?” You asked as you moved from where you’d been typing up a medical report to stand in front of him.  Your hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and he loves the way your white doctor’s coat makes you stand a little taller.

He stared down at you for long moment, swallowing.  He had to do this.  He had to do this because for the past year, he’d been fucking one of his best friends to try to get rid of his feelings and it hadn’t worked.  Because for the first time in almost seventy years, he wanted something.  Because dreams about you had interrupted his nightmares, and he’d been sleeping better since meeting you.

“I really want to kiss you,” he said, breathless and shaky.

You stared up at him with confusion and what he thinks is anger, your eyebrows furrowing.  You bit your bottom lip, and he fought the urge to gently tug it free.  “What about Natasha?”

Fuck.  He didn’t think you’d known about her.

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to feign innocence even though he knew it was pointless.  You weren’t exactly stupid.

You raised your eyebrows at him, your hands on your hips. “Bucky, I’m not blind,” you said, your voice faint.  “I can hear when she leaves her room in the middle of the night and comes back a few hours later.”  You stared down at the floor, shuffling your feet.  “I can also hear you when you two meet in her room.”

Fuck, he wanted to slam his head against the wall.  Of course, you’d heard him.  He thought that Stark would’ve made the walls thick enough and you wouldn’t hear his nightly activities with your neighbor, but apparently he was wrong.

You snorted as you stared at something off to the side, your eyes slightly glazing over.  “Sometimes you two go until four the morning, in case you didn’t know.”

“We…  We, uh,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Nat and I…  We aren’t a thing.  Not exactly.”

“James, I know what friends with benefits is.”

And the fact that you called him James just told him how much you were hurt.  His cheeks were a dark red as he stared down at his shoes shamefully.  “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You asked, turning to organize all the shit you had gotten out to wrap Will’s wrist.  There was a little bit of force in the way you put things back into their proper place, and it made him wince.  “You two are adults.  You can do whatever you want.”

“Please talk to me,” He said quietly, taking a step towards you.  “I can’t fix things if you don’t talk to me.”

You were facing away from him, your shoulders tensed as you stared down at the gauze in your hands.  “I just… I don’t know.”  You placed the gauze back in its place, rattling the other contents of the cabinet.  “It really hurts when the guy who’s sleeping with one of your best friends flirts with you, and makes you think that you could possibly have a chance.  But then he just keeps fucking your best friend—who also happens to be your neighbor—and you can’t help but think it’s some kind of game.”  Your hands gripped the edge of the counter.  Your knuckles went white.  “Like you only flirt with me because Natasha’s not around to keep you entertained.”

Bucky shook his head, reaching out for you desperately.  “No, no, no.  It wasn’t a game, I swear,” he said, turning you around.  “Nat and I…  We…  We have a history.”

“James, it’s fine.  Forget I said anything,” you muttered, trying to turn your back, but his grip on your arm prevented it.

“Y/N, it’s not.”  He took in a deep breath, knowing that if he did this, there was no going back.  “Nothing between Nat and I was about feelings, not even when we were still under HYDRA’s control.”  He let go of your arm, rubbing the back of his neck.  His mouth was dry as the Sahara, his palms sweaty.  “And I know this is going to make me sound like a dick, but I only started messing around with Natasha after I met you.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you tried to move away from him again, but he pleaded, “Please listen to me. Give me…”  He glanced at the clock, biting his lip, and turned back to you.  “Give me two minutes.  And if you don’t want to talk to me ever again, you don’t have to.”

You stared at him for a long, heavy moment, before nodding, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Y/N, you are the first person I’ve wanted in a long, long time. And not just for sex.”  He swallowed down the lump in his throat as his eyes stayed locked with yours.  “At first I thought I was just lonely, which is why I went to Nat, but it wasn’t.  It was because you’re you and everything you are is brilliant and amazing and so, so good and everything I’m not.”  Bucky rubbed his hands on his sweats, his heart pounding against his ribcage.  “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”  You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up his hand, glancing back at the clock.  “I still have thirty seconds.”  He took the way you laughed as a good sign, and continued, “I’m not good at saying how I feel.  I’m not good at opening up to people.  I’m stubborn and more than a little rough around the edges, but I want to try for you.” His eyes watered as he stared at you. “Please.”  After a long moment of you not saying anything, he added, “My two minutes are done.”

“Are you and Natasha completely done?” You asked, sounding so small.

Bucky nodded, taking a step towards you.  “Yes.  Yes, we’re one hundred percent done.  And, uh…” He blushed a little as he looked down at his shoes.  “She’s the one that told me to get my shit together and tell you.”

“What made you end it?”

“What?”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly.  “What made you end it with her?  I assume something happened.”

And God, the last thing he wants to do is tell you what happened just a little before, but the look in your eyes told him that you wouldn’t relent.  “I, uh…” He coughed, growing more and more embarrassed.  “I moaned your name.”

You snorted, smirking a little as you turned back to your organizing.  He stood there for so long that he was sure that you had forgotten him, that you were done with him.  But then you paused in your organizing with your eyes locked on your hands.  “Dinner.  Tonight. Pick me up at seven.”

He can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face and he nods, forgetting for a second that you can’t see him.  When he remembered, he said, “I’ll be there at six fifty-five.”

[holylulusworld]

The queen of Lebanon - Part 7 – The sex wasn’t that bad

Summary: Your father died years ago, all men in the business believed you are too weak to take over his Empire – they were wrong. Anyone trying to get into your hair will feel your wrath. What happens when a cocky mobster tries not only to steal your empire but your heart too?

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Mobster!Reader, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Cole Trenton, Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: angst, ‘the family business’, love-hate relationship, hooking up, rivalry, jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, age gap (reader is 28; Dean 32),  mentions of characters death/torture/murder (nothing graphic) blood, language

The queen of Lebanon Masterlist

Five years ago, …

Dean's eyes darken as he must watch you talk to Sam, sliding your hand over his brother’s chest while you completely ignore his whole presence.

“If you ask me, Dean, let it go.” Benny tries to stop his friend from doing anything stupid.

The heads of all Empires are at the Winchesters mansion tonight and Benny is worried Dean might lose his cool close to you.

“She is almost jumping my brother's bones right under my nose, Benny. Look how she grinds against his crotch. Shameless…”

Cursing Dean clenches his jaw as you grind against Sam, not missing the way Dean watches you and his brother.

“Dean, you let her go or rather tossed her aside for a shady deal with Lisa’s father. That bastard didn’t even keep his word.” Meeting his boss’s eyes Benny shrugs. “You had your chance years ago. Sam deserves a bit…fun…”

While Benny walks away Dean is close to shooting his brother as Sam dares to dance with you. Sam’s hand is at your back, gently caressing your skin and you let him.

“Son, I told you to let it go. There will be no bond between a Winchester and a Singer. Not back then, not now.” John snarls through gritted teeth.

“Why?” Glaring at his father Dean smirks. “As you killed her mother and elder brother back then or as Bobby killed mom and your precious Adam?” Turning on his heels Dean stalks toward you and his brother, barking orders at his men.

“Dean, drop it!” Sam exhales while Dean paces around the room, glaring at you and his brother. “I know you fucked her by the way you touch my future wife!”

“Brother, I swear…” While Sam wants to calm his brother, you smirk at Dean. Your hand grasps Sam’s and you smile wildly.

“Don’t hide it, Sammy. We got caught…” Licking your crimson lips you give Dean a dark grin. “Sam was so good, Dean. It made me forget the laughable first time you gave me. It was worth the wait.” 

Before you go you peck Dean’s check, pressing your lips hard into his skin to leave a red lip print. “You’re such a …”

“Yeah, let it out Dean but nothing you will say will make me agree to an arranged marriage with you, jerk.”

Now…

“Dean! That wasn’t the plan!” Pressed onto his desk, legs kicked apart, one hand pressing your head down Dean grunts on top of you. He’s not letting up, thrusting hard enough to make the desk creak.

“I will use every moment you spend at my house wisely. Look at you, Y/N. All wet for me, already dripping onto me. Can you hear how your sweet pussy sucks me in?” Dean groans, fisting your hair harshly as his hips snap hard against your ass. 

“We wanted to talk about Dick! Can we not act as if we are horny teens?” Panting you push back onto Dean’s dick, cursing as you hear the wet sound of sex fill the room. “We can’t waste more time…”

“I sent my men to bring Jimmy and Cole here to have lunch. We will share our information about Dick Roman, his empire and everything else. Now shut up and let me fuck you…”

Dean grabs the edge of the desk, angling his cock one last time to make you gasp every time he slides back into you.

“Fuck…” While you are busy to lie exhausted onto the desk Dean still works his cock into you. 

“One more, Baby Girl. Give me another one and we can have a shower, breakfast and talk about you becoming my wife.”

Now your head snaps upward and you want to yell at Dean, but your orgasm makes you cry out first.

“I’ll not marry you, Winchester. What makes you believe I would ever consider marrying your old ass.” Grunting Dean slaps your ass, stilling as his cum coats your walls. “Not in a thousand years, Dean…”

“You said the same back then about having sex with me, Sweetheart.” When he pulls out a deep growl leaves his throat. “Now look at you. All filled with my spunk, fucked out and sated.”

“You’re such an asshole, Winchester.” Covering your still shaking body with his tall frame Dean hums into your neck, smirking as you squirm underneath him. 

“Yeah…I am and so much more. Still…” Nipping at your neck Dean ruts against you. “You let me make you cum thrice this morning and I think you enjoyed yourself.”

“That was just a way to relieve the stress and to forget about being trapped with you in a cramped room. This means nothing.” Voice hoarse you wiggle in Dean’s grip, but he won’t budge.

Still pressing his naked body against yours he marks your neck with little love bites. “You liked me inside of you, admit it…”

“Well…” Chuckling you shrug. “The sex wasn’t that bad, Winchester.”

“You know, I could believe you do not like me a bit but…” Biting your shoulder Dean smirks against your flesh. “I will not give up, Sweetheart. You and your cute ass belong with me…”

“Fuck you, idjit. I will not marry you or your pitiful cock. Now get off me. This was the last time for sure…”

“Anything new, Charlie?” All eyes land on your friend, the expert you call if you need to dig out the dirt. “I know Dick Roman is a hard nut to crack but please tell me you found anything.”

“According to my research, Dick Roman’s business seems to be legal.” Charlie hands you a folder full of useless information. “Nothing useful so far. That asshole even wrote a book and wants to become a politician…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Charlie.” Tossing the folder onto the table your rub your sore eyes. “So, we’ve got a whole lot of nothing.”

“Exactly, Y/N. I dug as deep as possible and found nothing.” The redhead sighs, resting her head onto the table. “He is too clean, boss. Whatever he’s hiding, I’ll find it, but it will take more time and better equipment.”

“Cole, can you make sure Charlie can use our system at Ares? I would feel better knowing she’s safe at my house.” Cole nods, smirking at you as he can see Dean clench his jaw every time you smile at your adopted brother.

“Our turn.” Dean grins, nodding at Benny who opens a file on his laptop. “Let us introduce you to Dick Roman, a billionaire businessman who is one of the fifty most powerful men in America.” Glancing at the monitor you gasp.

“He owns the corporation Richard Roman Enterprises. He is like an invader. That dick is following a ruthless corporate takeover agenda, focusing specifically taking over other kingpins empires.”

“You are telling me this billionaire is after our business? Why?” Rubbing your forehead, you can’t find a reason for a person like Dick Roman to take over a mobster’s empire.

“He has more money than he could ever make with our kind of business. Has a bestseller and even wants to become a politician…”

“I know, Y/N. We only know he killed your father and Jody for a reason. They are not his only victims.” Placing a folder onto the table Dean shoves it toward you. “Ten other families got wiped out.”

Opening the folder, you gasp as the files tell you Dick Roman is killing whole families, including children. “That monster even killed a baby…”

“We need to stop him, but we need to do it right. Everything we know is that no one was able to bring him down so far. Many people tried to kill him, but no one succeed so far.” Sam explains as Charlie checks Dean’s laptop.

“I might need more help. Dick’s website, his company server is encrypted. I know a guy, named Frank. He could help me.”

“Tell me what you need, and Cole will get it for you. You have no limit this time. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay for it. Cole will stay by your side and help you with anything.”

“Frank is a bit…uh…” Shrugging Charlie blinks a few times to find the right words. “Complicated to say the least. I should go alone and ask him for help.”

“No. This is not negotiable, Charlie. Cole will go with you, but he can stay in the car. From now on we play safe.” Laughing Charlie nods, giving you a wink before she hands Cole her friend’s addressee.

“Good thing Frank hates Dick Roman too. He bought his book only to burn it. If only I would’ve known that man is behind your parent’s death, I am sorry, Y/N.” Smirking Charlie walks toward the door, waving at you before she leaves the room.

Cole is not convinced but he follows Charlie outside, still hating the fact you spent the night at Dean Winchesters' house…

“Dean, I am tired so no stupid jokes and no talking about marrying you or shit. Let me have a break from your cockiness for once.” Rubbing your sore eyes, you whine as his rough hands start kneading your knots out.

“Just relax for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll drive you to your house. We should stick together, all of us. If we do not find a way to stop Roman, Lebanon will burn just like every other town Dick Roman took over.” Voice gruff but hands gentle Dean smiles as you nod.

“We should ask Crowley and Rowena for help too. I know you do not like them, but he was always a reliable source. If you want me to do so, let me do the talking…” Yawning you close your eyes for a moment.

“Did you ever imagine how our life would’ve been…” Dean stops talking when you start snoring.

For a moment he slides his fingers over your back, to just enjoy feeling your skin under his fingertips. “We can talk about this later.”

While Dean covers you with a warm blanket you snuggle into his pillow, faking you are already asleep. You know he wanted to ask you how your lives would’ve been without John forcing Dean to marry Lisa.

You press your eyes shut, ignoring the tingling in your body as he moves close enough to kiss your neck softly. 

“Love you, Sweetheart. I wish you would tell me you love me too.” Nuzzling you Dean presses his warm body against your back, wrapping his arms around you. 

“We are too late…” Pressing one hand over her mouth Charlie tries not to scream at the sight of all the blood in Frank’s trailer.

“Whatever happened here, they didn’t do it fast.” Looking around the trailer Cole sees restraints, fingernails on the floor and blood splatters all over the walls, floor, even the ceiling. “They tortured him.”

“Where is he?” Sniffling Charlie wants to walk out of the trailer, wants to escape the horror but Cole holds her back, pointing toward a picture of Frank with his family. “We need to find them…”

“I wasn’t completely honest…” Biting her lower lips Charlie gulps hard. “The reason Frank hated Dick Roman that much was…”

“Roman killed Frank’s family?” Nodding Charlie takes the picture to put it into her bag. “We will get him good, Charlie. For now, we can only check if Frank left anything Dick Roman’s men wouldn’t find…”

The queen of Lebanon

@alyssaforever2671, @xcastielbabyangelface, @bitchwhytho, @rosiehayes

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[thewitchandtheassassin]

Coming for You (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Prompt: Hey mate, could you do one based on Senorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello, with Wanda. Thanks and I love your stories~

Words: 1343

Warnings: Uhhh, none? Maybe?

A/N: This isn’t probably what was imagined, but I think it turned out alright. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for a little while. Got a new job and all, but yeah.

-X-

Lips pressed together, Wanda melted into you as your fingers dug into her hips. Sweat was dripping down your face, but neither of you minded. Working out together always left you two in such a position. Maybe it was the adrenaline; maybe it was because you were working so closely together. Either way, it ended with a passionate embrace you tried explaining away.

Despite it all, you swore you were “just friends”.

Wanda often wondered if all your friends knew the way you tasted – or if she was a special friend.

Your hands wandered under her tank top and your nails bit into the soft flesh of her waist, earning a low moan. She was bewitched by the way your tongue moved against hers, sinking into the sensations you offered freely. She loved these little moments, when you were hers and she was yours. They didn’t last long but they meant the most.

She wished she could say she didn’t need this – didn’t need you – but that would be a lie. There was something about you that drove away all thoughts of self-preservation. She would give in to you every time you came knocking.

You caught her lip between your teeth and nipped gently, smirking when she leaned heavily against you. Kissing you was such a deadly thing. It had to be terrible for her health, the way you managed to steal the breath from her lungs and how you made her brain swim, trapped amid lust and blooming love. She prayed that she wouldn’t fall for you – knew how bad of an idea that would be – but she had a feeling it would happen.

Friendships weren’t supposed to feel like this.

Pulling back, you cupped Wanda’s cheek and stared into her striking green eyes. You couldn’t admit it out loud, caught up in your “we’re just friends” mantra, but you were falling in love with her. She was special to you – and by God, this meant absolutely everything to you.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, your name sounding so lovely wrapped up in her thick accent.

You smiled, pecking her lips before stepping back. Breaking the connection was hard but being so close to her was driving you wild. All you could smell was the sweetness clinging to her hair, the taste of her mouth sticking to yours.

If you dared to lick your lips, you knew you’d taste her cherry chapstick…

Refusing to let go, Wanda reached out and grabbed your hand, marveling at how it fit in hers.

“I need to go change,” you laughed, squeezing Wanda’s fingers. “Movie night starts in like an hour and if I’m late, the others will never let me live it down.”

Wanda bit her lip, staring at your linked hands. “Maybe we could skip tonight? I’m sure they would understand…”

You shook your head, a million thoughts racing through your mind. If you did that, then the others would know the truth – and the truth could ruin everything. If you said there was nothing more between you, then no one could take it away.

“We should get ready,” you said, clearing your throat uncomfortably. Guilt welled up inside you at the sight of Wanda’s drooping shoulders and pained expression, but you were a coward. You couldn’t say all the things you wanted to.

This was fragile enough as it was.

-X-

“I don’t understand you,” Natasha chastised as you stood at the microwave, a bag of uncooked popcorn in your grasp.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you glanced at the other woman, silently imploring for an explanation. Her arms were crossed, disapproval marring her features as she eyed you. You were bewildered; what had you done now?

“What are you talking about?” you asked when no explanation was offered.

“Wanda,” she replied knowingly, her gaze dark as she dared you to deny whatever was going on.

You looked away, shaking your head. “What about Wanda? We’re just friends…”

Natasha snorted disbelievingly. “Riiiiiight.”

“We are,” you insisted, throwing the bag of popcorn into the microwave before violently pressing the timer.

Sighing, Natasha strolled over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “(Y/N), be honest with yourself. You two have never been just friends. The first night you met her, before you even knew her name, there was a connection. We could all see it.”

You swallowed drily; you hated how observant Natasha could be. “What do you want me to say, Nat?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

Normally heart-to-hearts weren’t Natasha’s strong point, but she had a soft spot for you and she could see you struggling. It was obvious that you had feelings for the Scarlet Witch, you just needed to admit it.

“I-”

Whatever you were going to say was cut off by Tony walking into the room, immediately ending the conversation. You slipped out of Natasha’s grip and hurriedly grabbed a bowl for the popcorn before yanking it out of the microwave. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t fully cooked; you’d learn to live with it if it meant you didn’t have to continue on with this.

Natasha glared at the billionaire playboy, irritated that he’d ruined what was bound to be an admittance.

“What?” Tony demanded, watching you leave the room in a hurry. “What’d I do?”

-X-

Movie night came and went, taking with it all of your trepidations. The more you thought about what Natasha was prompting, the less you feared it. You cared about Wanda – that much was certain – and you were fairly positive she cared about you too.

So why were you so afraid?

You found yourself standing outside Wanda’s room, hand perched to knock on the door. You didn’t know what you were going to say, but you needed to say something.

Anything.

It was time for you to grow up and acknowledge your feelings, even if the idea of that terrified you. This was worth it; she was worth it.

The minute your hand touched the smooth metal, a soft, “Come in,” echoed out into the hall. Nervously adjusting your shirt, you opened the door and stepped inside, letting it click closed behind you.

Wanda peered over you from her spot on the bed, a warm smile tugging at her lips. “(Y/N).” She set her book down and rose, walking over to you. “Is everything okay, malysh?”

Malysh. It was a word you’d heard a few times before but had never asked about. You knew it was a pet name, but a piece of you had worried that it would do irreparable damage to your relationship if you asked what it meant.

You couldn’t help yourself. Surging forward, you pressed your lips to hers, pulling her as close as possible. Her arms instinctively came to encircle your neck, a squeak of surprise falling from her lips. She didn’t really know what was going on, but this time everything felt different.

“I love it when you call me malysh,” you admitted, your forehead against hers. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s nice.”

Wanda gazed at you with wide eyes, waiting to see if there was more to your quiet confession.

“I wish I could pretend I don’t need you,” you continued on, “But every touch is…” you trailed off, unsure how to finish. “I mean, I should be running, but you keep me coming for you and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to leave. Everything between us has always meant something, even if I say we’re just friends. We aren’t. We never were.”

Tears pricked in the corners of Wanda’s eyes, but her smile was beaming. “Really?”

You nodded, hesitantly brushing your lips over Wanda’s. “I’d really like to take you out sometime.”

Nodding vigorously, Wanda repeatedly pecked your lips before you brought her into a deeper embrace, keeping your mouths pressed together in a way that made you both weak in the knees. All along you were coming for her, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it.

But admitting it might just be the best thing you’d ever done.

[hailing-stars]

new york’s santa 

for @ardenskyedarcy221b​ @frostysunflowers​ @seek-rest​ @blondsak​ I <3 you all, and are all some of the kindness people I know! hope your holiday season is wonderful and bright 

summary 

“Are you Santa?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You really think I have the time to be a glorified cosplayer?”

“I didn’t even think you knew what a cosplayer was…” said Peter, trailing off. He shook his head, refusing to let his mind wander from the topic. “Where do you keep the reindeer? Can I meet them?”  

OR

New York City has it's own Santa, and Peter discovers it's Tony Stark, because of course it is.

trope: holidays

read on ao3 or after the undercut 

New York City didn’t always have a Santa.

Peter remembered a time when he was too little to reach over the counters and steal cookies. That hadn’t stopped him, though, because even back before he was sticky, he had still liked to climb.

He worked hard, dragging the step stool in the bathroom, the one he stood on to brush his teeth and wash his hands, all the way into the kitchen, grinning the entire way. He pushed it in front of the counter, stepped up, and reached his hand out. The tips of his fingers brushed against the plate, before he was caught around the belly by his Uncle Ben’s arm, carried out of the kitchen and into the living room where he was tossed down on the couch.

He giggled as he landed on the cushions, near where his Aunt May sat reading a book.

“Be careful with him, Ben,” said May, as she turned a page of her book. Peter looked at her, upside-down, from his position on the couch.

“He’s tougher than you think,” said Ben. He plopped down on the couch between May and Peter.

“Yeah,” said Peter, jumping back up into a sitting position, his wild brown hair falling into his eyes as he did. He extended his arm out, like he’d seen his hero do many times on TV. “I’m tough, like Iron Man.”

“I think you’re much tougher than Iron Man,” said May. She shut her book and set it on the coffee table in front of them. “And much more sensible.”

“True,” said Ben, with a laugh, then his face grew more serious. “Which is why, me and your aunt both, think it’s time we told you the truth about Santa, Pete…”

That was the day Ben and May explained to him that Santa Claus was make-believe. He wasn’t real. There wasn’t a magical place called the North Pole, there weren’t any reindeer out flying around in the sky. They explained it was his job to keep the story alive for his friends and the other kids in class, who probably still believed.

Back then he hadn’t thought it was fair that he had to be the first to realize magic wasn’t real, but now, Peter understood. Ben and May, infinite in their love and their wisdom, hadn’t wanted Peter to think he’d done something wrong when he woke up and saw just a few presents under the trees, when his friends would come to school and talk about getting a whole store.

Families like the Parkers weren’t rich enough to believe in fairy tales.

He’d drifted off to sleep that Christmas Eve, after two kisses on his forehead, a little sad, but loved, and still excited for Christmas morning.

He’d been the first to wake, like always, and when he’d wondered out into the living room where the Christmas tree stood strong, his eyes went wide in shock. There were presents under the tree. A mountain of presents, piled high, covered in bright, shiny wrapping paper and topped with bows.

And there was a bike. The exact one he wrote to Santa about. It was red and gold and had never once had training wheels on it. It had a bow, too.

Peter’s mouth hung open, but it was approximately thirty seconds until he could get any words to come out.

“AUNT MAY! UNCLE BEN! YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SANTA!”

They were rising up from under the covers just as Peter rounded the corner, bolted into their bedroom and leapt up between them on their bed. He scrambled to stand upright, then jumped up and down, completely forgetting the conversation May had with him just last week about jumping on the furniture.

“Come on! Come on! You have to come see,” said Peter. “Santa bought us lots of presents.”

May and Ben exchanged looks of concern.

“Peter, honey,” said May, taking his hand, while he kept jumping up and down. “We talked about this. Santa – “

“-Just come on.”

Peter tugged his hand free, jumped off the bed, and ran out of the bedroom, giving his aunt and uncle no choice but to follow him into the living room.

“See? He is real.” Peter motioned at all the presents under the tree.

“Ben,” said May. “Who…? Someone broke into our apartment…”

Ben wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were fixed on a shiny envelope that had been placed on the tree. Gently, he pulled the envelope off and opened it, taking out a stack of twenties and a small notecard.

“… it’s signed Santa,” said Ben. He handed over the envelope with the money and notecard to May.

“This is enough for three months’ rent,” said May, shuffling through the stack of cash.

“Whoever it was, I hope they break in again.”

May smiled through her tears and elbowed her husband.

“Can I open these now or what?” asked Peter. He dove in only after giving his uncle’s okay in the form of a nod.

Peter got a lot of stuff that Christmas. Clothes, which his aunt and uncle were happy about, and toys, which he was happy about. His favorites included a chemistry set, a stack of Star Wars movies on DVD, his new bike and Legos. He loved the present he got from his aunt and uncle the most, an Iron Man action figure that shot blue bullets out of his hand.

He sat on the floor and played with it while Ben and May watched the news. As it turned out, all of New York City had received visits from Santa. A few people, who were out and about in the dead of night, got pictures of a sleigh with reindeer flying around in the sky.

“I wonder who it is…” said Ben, munching on Christmas cookies. “I wonder who’s doing all this.”

At the time, it’d seemed obvious to Peter. Santa, of course. But as the years passed by, Peter got too old to believe in magic, and he joined Ben in his speculation about the man underneath the Santa Hat. Christmas after Christmas, they wondered, they guessed, until Ben wasn’t around to do any wondering or guessing, and Peter and May were left to somehow survive Christmas without him, to wonder and guess without him and with the rest of the city, instead.  

All of New York City wanted to know Santa’s name, and the students at Midtown High were no exception.

“I’m going to set a trap,” said Flash, with clear venom and disgust in his voice, heard clearly even from a few tables over in the school cafeteria. “I’m going video him and expose him on my Instagram, then maybe the police or Spider-Man can put him in prison where he belongs.”  

Peter looked away from the table where Flash sat with a frown. It seemed odd, and a bit extreme, even for Flash, to have a personal vendetta against someone who just wanted to shower money and presents on the city.

“What’s Flash got against Santa?” he asked.

Michelle snorted from behind her book. “Last year he got a lump of coal and a book called Kindness for Dummies.”

Peter and Ned laughed, but quickly moved on to talking about their excitement about the new Star Wars movie. He didn’t be bothered with obsessing about who Santa was or wasn’t. It lost its charm once Ben died, and besides that, there was something in Peter that felt like he knew him already.

*

Peter stepped out of the elevator and into the common room of Avenger’s Tower, shaking snowflakes out of his hair and holding two cups of hot chocolate, one of which that was snatched out of his hand by an unregretful Sam Wilson.

“Thanks, Pete,” he told him. “I don’t care what Bucky says about you, you’re the best.”

“That’s not for you,” said Peter, carefully prying Sam’s claws off the cup and reclaiming it. “It’s for Mr. Stark.”

Peter took a glance around the common room. It was filled with Avengers, buzzing with Christmas music and chatter, but Mr. Stark was nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?”

“Might as well let me have it,” said Sam. “You won’t be seeing much of Tony this time of year.”

“He’s right, Peter. Tony hates Christmas,” said Steve, from where he stood with Bucky, the both of them with cue sticks in hand.

“What?” He tried not to choke on the laugh stuck in his throat.

The idea was so childish, like something a villain in a storybook might say. Peter knew not everyone loved and celebrated Christmas, that the holidays were tough for many people, but hate it? Hate Christmas? Mr. Stark? The same Mr. Stark who insisted on blasting classic rock covers of old Christmas songs in the workshop since Black Friday?

Peter didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. It was illogical.

“It’s the same every year,” said Nat, who was lounging on the couch, her phone in hand. “Isolates himself. Won’t even help us with missions.”

Peter stood on his tippy toes, trying to look her in the eyes over the back of the couch. Something didn’t seem quite right, something didn’t add up, either that, or it… it lined up perfectly, actually. It clicked, right then, inside Peter’s brain, something that seemed so obvious it had to be true.

“You guys don’t think?”

“Don’t think what?”

“Tony’s Santa,” said Peter. Every Avenger in the common room stopped what they were doing and looked at him like he was stupid or delusional. “Come on, guys, billionaire, tech genius, pretends to be all grinchy so he can be alone and work on… well, Santa stuff.”

“Tony isn’t Santa, Peter,” Nat told him.

“You said it yourself,” said Sam, pointing his finger at him, then starting to walk away. “He’s more like the Grinch.”

“On a good day,” Bucky finished.

Peter gave them each a look, wondering if they were being intentionally dim, or if they knew the truth and were attempting to hide it from him. He shifted his head, pointing it towards the ceiling.

“Friday, tell Mr. Stark I’m here, please.”

Just a few seconds ticked by before Friday’s voice came back over the intercom, telling him to take the elevator up to the Stark Suite. He left the other Avengers happily, and without a word, leaving them to stew in their ignorance and lies.

*

The cries of Morgan Stark, mid-tantrum, assaulted Peter’s ears before the elevator stopped or opened its doors. He couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face, one he had to hid once the doors did open and he caught sight of Pepper carrying her back to her room, as she kicked, screamed, her tiny fists pumping into the air.

“What’s going on?” asked Peter, stepping into the kitchen and looking around. Mashed potatoes, peas and cut up chicken bits were all over the floor. Some of the mashed potatoes had made it into Mr. Stark’s hair.

“She wanted to have a food fight,” said Mr. Stark. “Pepper spoiled our fun.”

Peter laughed and pressed one of the hot chocolates into Mr. Stark’s chest, until he accepted it and took a hesitant sip. He watched him drink, with a question on his lips, burning to be asked out loud.

“This is actually good,” said Tony, examining the cup. He took another drink, and Peter couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you Santa?”

Tony spit out the hot chocolate, only contributing to his messy kitchen. “Am I what?”

“You know, the guy who dresses up in a red suit and has the reindeer and flies around, handing out bikes?”

“Kid – that’s the most ridiculous – “

“That isn’t a no,” said Peter, a grin splitting his face. He knew it was the truth, it made too much sense not to be true.

Tony rolled his eyes. “You really think I have the time to be a glorified cosplayer?”

“I didn’t even think you knew what a cosplayer was…” said Peter, trailing off. He shook his head, refusing to let his mind wander from the topic. “Where do you keep the reindeer? Can I meet them?”  

Tony sat the cup of hot chocolate down on the table, then gave him a hard look. Eventually the façade of stone crumbled, though, and he was letting out a sigh and wadding up his face and slinking off towards the elevator.

He slammed his thumb against the call button and turned his head back to look at Peter. “You coming or what?”

Peter yelped out in excitement, almost dropped his hot chocolate on the already messy kitchen floor. Instead, he put it down on the kitchen table with so much excitement, so much force, it toppled over and began slowly leaking out. Peter ignored it. The reindeer were waiting.

*

The elevator took them both to the depths of Avenger’s Tower, so far down, Peter expected they could into the Earth’s core any second. When, finally, the elevator came to a slow stop, and the doors slid open, Friday announced they were at the North Pole.

“Whoa,” said Peter, stepping off the elevator, and onto a shiny, sliver floor.

Looking around, Peter took it all in. He was standing in a warehouse, although it felt a little weird to call it that, as it was well decorated and filled with bright colors. Snowflakes fall from up above. They disappeared before they came anywhere close to hitting the floor, reminding Peter of the Great Hall in Harry Potter, and a giant Christmas tree stood tall, with a blue star shining bright on top of it.

Shelves filled with expertly wrapped presents stretched on and on, further than Peter could see with his eyes, and bots wearing elf hats scurried around on wheels, carrying stacks of gifts to their correct locations. There were other bots, also wearing elf hats, with four arms that moved quickly, wrapping boxes of toys with the precision only Tony Stark’s tech could pull off.

“This is amazing,” said Peter.

“Yeah,” said Mr. Stark. “I know.”

Peter continued scanning the room for the one thing he wanted to see the most. “Where’s the reindeer?”

Mr. Stark led him off to a side room where nine reindeer, nine reindeer bots, were playing. The entire room was designed to look as if it were a stable, and off to the side, sat a shiny, red sleigh, ready and waiting for Christmas Eve night. Mr. Stark gave a whistle, and the deer stopped what they were doing, looked, then stampeded towards them with the excitement of a puppy greeting you after a long day away from home.  

Within seconds, Peter was surrounded by all nine reindeer, all nudging at him with their noses, wanting some pets, all ignoring Mr. Stark in favor of Peter, the new person.

“You all are traitors,” he told them.

Rudolph stomped his foot and barked angrily at him, before giving Peter’s hand another nuzzle.

“See why I didn’t introduce you sooner?” said Mr. Stark, who stood alone, without any reindeer attention. “You’re always stealing my thunder. Why do my bots always like you more than me?”

“I dunno, I’m not that one who made them that way,” said Peter, with a shrug, before he continued petting the mechanical reindeer. “I still don’t understand, Mr. Stark. It doesn’t make any sense. How do you fit all those presents on the sleigh? Do you make multiple trips? How do you even have time to deliver to the whole city in one night? OH, do you – did you invent time travel?”

Peter stopped, took a deep breath, realizing he was doing his rambling thing. He was spitting off too many questions, and too fast, and most of the time people found that annoying, but the smirk on Mr. Stark’s face told him his mentor wasn’t most people.

“Presents don’t ever even go on the sleigh, kid,” said Mr. Stark, addressing his first question, and his first question only.

“Then how…?”

“The Wizards do their, yellow portally thing.”

“Oh,” said Peter. “So this is like an Avenger’s thing?”

“Yep, they’re my elves.”

Peter laughed at their expense. They deserved it, those liars.

“You go flying around on the sleigh just for fun?” asked Peter. He wouldn’t blame Tony if that were the case. The reindeer alone made it worth it.

“Gotta make it look convincing, don’t I?”

Mr. Stark explained the rest to him, while he further made friends with the reindeer. That the rest was computerized, ran with algorithm that collected, stored, and organized information scanned from the letters children (and in NYC, sometimes teens and adults) wrote to Santa. It automatically put in an online order from small retailers around the country, to both help local businesses and to keep people from tracing a bulk order from a giant retailer back to the Tower.

“Some families need a personal touch,” said Mr. Stark, talking about how sometimes he manually input information in the system. Flash’s book about kindness and his lump of coal came to Peter’s mind.

“You have to let me help out,” said Peter. “Please.”

“Will I survive the whining if I say no?”

“I doubt it,” said Peter. “Plus, the reindeer will never forgive you.”

Rudolph, Blitzen, and Prancer barked their agreements, Comet licked Peter’s face and Mr. Stark rolled his eyes.

“Fine you can help,” said Mr. Stark. He wagged his finger at Peter, before quickly withdrawing when Vixen tried to bite it off. “I expect you’re going to take this secret more seriously than you do your secret identity, got it? It’s a mystery to me how the city doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man yet.”

It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. He didn’t understand why Mr. Stark had so little faith in him. “Of course, Mr. Stark, I won’t tell anyone.”

*

Peter told May.

He didn’t mean to tell her. The words just sort of slipped out of his mouth, without any permission from his brain, but to be completely honest, he wasn’t sure it was his fault, exactly. What else was he meant to do on Christmas Eve evening? When he and May sat down with their hot chocolate and continued the tradition Ben started, taking guesses at who the man under the hat was?

“It’s Mr. Stark,” he blurted out.

May laughed. “What?”

“Mr. Stark is Santa,” said Peter.

“Oh he is?” asked May. She laughed harder when she saw Peter’s face was serious. “Sorry, kiddo, I’m not falling for it.”

“But he –“ Peter started, then shook his head in frustration and pulled on May’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Twenty minutes later the two of them were stepping off the elevator and into the North Pole, and about two seconds after that Peter was shouted at by Mr. Stark.

“Parker, what the hell?” asked Mr. Stark, his voice annoyed, but hard to take seriously. Mr. Stark was wearing the beginnings of his Santa suit, bright red, silky pants and a white t-shirt under a red, silky jacket.

“Holy shit, it’s true,” said May.

Mr. Stark zeroed in Peter, trying his best to look intimidating as he could with a Santa hat hanging off his head. “I told you to keep it a secret.”

“Honestly Tony, if you wanted to keep it quiet you shouldn’t have told Peter,” said May. “We all know Peter is terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad.”

“I hate to tell you this, Pete,” said Pepper, as she joined the group, with Morgan hanging off her hip. Morgan stretched her arms out towards Peter, wanting her big brother as soon as she knew he was in the room. “But you’re awful at keeping secrets, and relax, Tony, May isn’t going to tell anyone.”

Mr. Stark and Pepper have no way of knowing the wave of grief that went through Peter, and probably, he guessed, his aunt, too. The only other person they wanted to tell wasn’t around anymore to hear it.

“Hey, Mo,” said Peter, taking her from Pepper. “Wanna show Aunt May the reindeer?”

“Yeah!” Morgan shouted. She had one volume. Loud. She pointed to the stable room. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

The three of them left Pepper and Mr. Stark, the latter of which was still mumbling under his breath grumpily. Peter supposed the other Avengers were right, in a way. The closer it got to Christmas, the more stressed Mr. Stark became, because he wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted the city to be filled with magic and wonder, even if it was only for a day.

Peter looked back at him before disappearing into the stables. He was rambling with Pepper about something else, a serious scowl on his face. That was Mr. Stark, a grumpy Santa, with a heart two sizes too big.

*

They were playing fetch with reindeer, taking turns throwing a bright red ball, while the reindeer took turns retrieving, when Mr. Stark strode into the stable room, looking a lot more like Santa Claus than he did Tony Stark. His suit was complete, his hat was on straight, he had a white beard and half-moon glasses and a dad belly.

He gave a special whistle, and the reindeer galloped into formation immediately, the red ball bounced on the floor where Dasher had dropped it. They stood, with Rudolph in the front, and waited for Mr. Stark to fastened them into their harnesses.

Mr. Stark threw a green jacket at Peter, who caught it with both ease and confusion.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your jacket,” said Mr. Stark. “I thought you wanted to come along.”

Peter never remembered asking Mr. Stark to ride along in the sleigh specially, but he wasn’t about to open his mouth and bring that up at the moment. He put on the jacket quickly, noticing that despite its lightweight, it was warm. Too warm. Hot and stuffy, and making Peter wish he was already up in the sky and out in the cold.

Next Santa Stark threw a green hat with elf ears attached to the sides at him. Peter made no effort to catch, and it fell to the ground by his feet.

“I can’t wear that.”

“Uh, you have to wear that,” said Mr. Stark. “Unless you want pictures of yourself all over the news tomorrow, and headlines asking why Peter Parker from Queens is helping Santa Claus.”

Peter grumbled under his breath, snatched the ugly hat off the floor, then grumpily put it on, disgusted to find it was also a mask.

“Awww,” said May. “You’re so adorable as an elf.”

Before he could stop her, she snapped a picture of him with her phone, and Mr. Stark starting mumbling again. That time about how bad secret keeping must be a Parker trait as well as taking photos in a Top-Secret Avengers Facility. He snapped his jaw shut when May gave him that look, that look she often gave Peter to stop him from doing something stupid.

“Be careful,” said May, giving him a hug.

“Of course, May, I’m always careful.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but let Peter out of her hug, anyway, allowing him to help Mr. Stark put the harnesses around the reindeer. After that, they both climbed into the sleigh, and Mr. Stark took the reins.

“You really do look like Santa, Mr. Stark,” Peter told him, looking at him through the slits in the elf mask, tilting his head, examining every inch of the fluffy white beard. “You’re even starting to get some wrinkles.”

“Say that again,” said Mr. Stark. “And I’m tossing you off this sleigh when we fly over the Hudson.”

Peter chuckled under his elf mask, and Mr. Stark lifted the reins and brought them down, fast. The reindeer barked, and slowly, parts of the wall in front of the sleigh folded in on itself, revealing a tunnel with tracks and lights that slanted upwards.

“Friday, play the soundtrack,” said Mr. Stark.

Back in Black pumped through the built-in speaker, Mr. Stark lifted the reins once more, and then they were off, rushing forwards at a speed that made Peter’s back hit the metal behind him, made him grip the edges of the seat and wish he’d thought to bring his web-shooters.

*

*

*

Peter woke up, for the second time that Christmas morning, without being sure he’d ever fallen asleep.

His dreams were hadn’t felt like dreams, more like memories, his brain trying to relive over and over again slicing through the New York skyline in what could only be considered a deathtrap. If Mr. Stark hadn’t been controlling it, Peter might have been scared for his life, then again, if Mr. Stark hadn’t been controlling it, they probably wouldn’t have been blasting through the sky at terrifying speeds.

Mr. Stark knew how to put on a show.

He weaved through builds, dipped down low enough to wave to people on rooftops, people with cameras, and people who braved the cold just to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh.

They disappeared from the city sometimes.

“I have to make it at least look like I’m going into homes,” Mr. Stark had told him, before directing the reindeer to fly over the ocean, where the stars in the sky were reflected down in the waves.

It’d been a great night, a memorable night, and not one Peter would ever forget. His dreams wouldn’t let him.

Peter sighed, and shifted around under his covers, turning over and taking a peak at the small mountain of presents next to his bed. The first time he woke up that morning was to open them, before promptly returning to his bedroom in Mr. Stark’s penthouse and drifting back off into a half-sleep, a world where he was still in the sky, on the sleigh, with Mr. Stark’s laughter in his ear.

He sat up, forced his feet on the floor, grabbed the throw blanket at the end of the bed, and put it around his shoulders like a cape, before leaving his room to see what the others were doing.

The penthouse was quiet. Not even Morgan wailed or shouted, and when Peter stepped into the living room, he found out why. She was fast asleep on the couch, still holding the favorite toy she’d unwrapped earlier that morning, a stuffed Spider-Man doll. Mr. Stark sat in a rocking chair by the fireplace, reading a book, and wearing a red plaid sweater.

Sure, he wasn’t dressed up as Santa anymore, but after seeing him in the suit and the beard, Peter didn’t know if he’d ever be able to separate the two again.

“Morning, Mr. Stark,” said Peter. He sat down on the couch gently, careful not to wake Morgan.

“Afternoon, actually,” Mr. Stark informed him. He closed his book and looked at Peter. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” said Peter, then laughed. “I just – I still can’t believe you’re really Santa.”

“Believe it, kid.”

“But why?” asked Peter. “You’re already so busy, you have Morgan, and you’ve saved this city thousands of times as Iron Man. It’s just – you sacrifice so much time into this.”

“Everyone should get to believe in something, Pete,” said Mr. Stark. “Even if it’s only for a day.”

Peter nodded, slowly, beginning to understand that the best part of Christmas wasn’t Santa bringing him a bike, but it was sitting at the table with May and Ben, having wild conversations and conspiracy theories about who was behind it all. Ben had come close once. He’d claimed it had to be an organization. Just never suspected it was the Avengers.

“You know,” said Peter. “The first year we had Santa, you got me this red and gold bike. It was my first without training wheels, and I fell off so many times, I had so many bruises, but Ben never gave up teaching me how to ride it.”

“Ben was a good man,” said Mr. Stark, and Peter was about to ask how he knew, some wild hope raising up inside him that maybe they had meet one day, but he didn’t need to speak his question out loud. Mr. Stark just knew. “I know because he raised a good man.”

Peter sniffed. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“I remember that bike. I remember seeing it before it got portaled away.”  

Peter laughed, hard and intentional, to chase the tears away. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”

“I bet May has some pictures.”

“I’m gonna have to see those, kid,” said Mr. Stark. He straightened out in the rocking chair and cleared his throat. Peter imagined he was trying to clear all the feelings away. “Hungry? I think May and Happy are making breakfast for lunch down in the common room.”

“Starving,” said Peter. “That sounds great.”

Mr. Stark collected Morgan off the couch, and they journeyed downstairs where the smell of pancakes and eggs and maple syrup hit Peter immediately. Most of the Avengers were milling around, Happy and May were laughing together in the kitchen, and Pepper was there to greet them off the elevator, taking Morgan from Mr. Stark so he could go get some food.

It was a grand breakfast for lunch, and Peter, at least he hoped, the start of a new tradition.

[stcky-rogers]

just friends | six

summary: bucky barnes, now a successful record executive, confessed his unrequited feelings for his best friend. ten years later, he returns home for the holidays when his plans to go to paris fall through. stuck in brooklyn with his crazy family and an egotistical pop star, bucky tries to get himself out of the friendzone. movie au, just friends

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language, bucky’s a major asshole in this one, sibling banter. 

five

bucky woke with a groan and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

god, my back hurts. he thought to himself. bucky grunted as he pushed himself up off the floor. he stood up and began stretching his limbs. a few pops here and there echoed throughout the empty room. bucky sighed, straightening up his makeshift bed. when he was finished, bucky made his way downstairs. bucky walked into the kitchen and smiled at the sight. 

winnie and wanda were cooking breakfast and singing a lot to the christmas song playing on the radio. bucky began humming the song as he moved to peck his sister and his mother on the cheek before stealing a piece of bacon. bucky whined when wanda smacked his hand. winnie chuckled at the two before handing another piece of bacon to bucky.

he stuck his tongue out at wanda and she whined, “mom,” she scolded. winnie looked over to wanda, “sweetie, there’s more than enough.” she explained. she leaned closer to her daughter, “besides, i’m making cookies and if that bacon distracts your brother from the smell then that means more for us.” wanda nodded and smirked at bucky. 

bucky was at peace, it felt good, but strange to be back home. bucky was enjoying the peace and quiet, until a certain redhead came bounding down the stairs. “james!” she giggled, running towards him. she collided with his body and smiled up at him. “our flight leaves at six tonight.” bucky hummed, sliding away from her. 

winnie shook her head, she thought there was definitely something off about natasha. “bucky, go wake your brother up for me, please?” bucky quickly pressed a kiss to his mom’s cheek and made his way to pietro’s room. 

not bothering to knock, bucky opened the door and frowned when he saw all the posters on his brother’s wall. bucky shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. pietro was curled into a ball at the foot of his bed, bucky tapped his cheek. bucky continued his attempts at waking his brother and when nothing worked, bucky landed a harsh swat to pietro’s cheek.

“hey, dumbass.” he grunted, pietro woke with a start and smacked his brother back when he saw who it was. the two began a slap fight and bucky jumped a little and ended up sitting on his brother’s face. pietro let out a muffled scream, causing bucky to grab his face. “i need a favor.” bucky confessed.

“why would i help you?” pietro asked. “because there’s something in it for you,” bucky told him, “so, technically, you’d be doing yourself a favor.” bucky told him about how he ran into you at the bar last night. “here we go,” pietro attempted to roll his eyes, but bucky’s thigh was preventing him from doing so. 

bucky hopped up and pietro let out another scream, “i’m not the same person i was in high school, bud,” pietro laughed, “you’ll always be fat to me, buck.” bucky smacked his brother’s forehead before squishing his face once again. “i need you to keep natasha occupied today.” pietro grinned under the pressure of bucky’s thigh, “i can do that.” bucky let his brother up. “good. breakfast is done by the way.” 

the two made their way downstairs, breakfast was great. bucky was sort of...glad natasha had set the plane on fire. he didn’t realize how much he had missed being home. when breakfast was over, bucky cleared the table and washed the dishes as fast as he could. when he finished, bucky checked his phone. he still had three hours before he had to pick you up for lunch. 

bucky decided on going for a jog to clear his head. racing up the stairs, bucky rummaged through his luggage to find something suitable enough to wear for running. finally finding what he was looking for, bucky made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. in the midst of brushing his teeth, bucky began planning out his scheme on how he was going to get you into bed with him after all these years. every idea he had, somehow ended catastrophically in his mind and he sighed before rinsing out his mouth and changing his clothes. 

stepping out of the bathroom, bucky made his way down the stairs and into the living room to find his mother. smiling softly as he approached her, he kissed her on the head and informed her on where he was going to be. winnie looked up from her book, smiled at bucky, and nodded. afterwards, bucky took off on his run. 

bucky spent most of the run getting reacquainted with the city. finding all the places he frequented when he was younger. when bucky left brooklyn, he left everything and everyone behind. he never contacted anyone, unless it was his family. he never visited and he never even thought about brooklyn while living in la. la had given bucky the best years of his life, it gave him the opportunity to change and be someone else. it offered him more than brooklyn ever had. bucky loved his home, but it didn’t love him back.

as time ticked by, bucky found himself standing on the front porch of his childhood home. bucky doesn’t remember ending up here, but he shrugged it off and made his way inside for a shower. 

managing to find something subtle to wear, bucky jumped into the shower. bucky took his time in the shower, letting the steaming water cascade down his body and release any tension he felt in his muscles. sighing, bucky hung his head under the water, allowing the water to massage his scalp. 

once his shower was over, bucky stepped out of the shower. grabbing his towel, he dried off as best as he could before firmly wrapping it around his waist and heading back into his bedroom. he dressed himself in the clothes he laid out before and used the towel to dry his hair. looking at himself in the mirror, bucky thought he looked good for the lunch date. 

bucky headed over to pietro’s room and began rushing him to get ready. then, bucky made his way down the stairs, grabbing nat’s guitar and her coat before he stepped into the living room. he called her name and she smiled before practically skipping to him. bucky began sliding natasha’s coat onto her body as he spoke, “today, we’re going to get you ready to perform in paris,” he said before lifting her hood over her head and smiling. pietro came bounding down the stairs so fast he just about tripped. sneaking behind his brother and the popstar, pietro made his way outside. 

bucky grabbed natasha’s hand and led her out of the door. “what about paris?” nat asked as they marched through the snow. “paris can wait, you don’t want to be out of touch with your audience, do you?” bucky insisted, practically dragging natasha through the snow. nat mumbled a weak, “no.” and bucky stopped briefly. 

“well then, you need to connect with your audience and since we’re in brooklyn, we’ve hit a bit of a problem on finding a cross section of your fans.” nat looked up at bucky, frowning. “the mall?” bucky chuckled, pulling her in front of him and repeating what she said as confirmation.  “we have so much in common, great idea!” bucky fibbed as he dragged her to a waiting pietro. 

nat pulled harshly against bucky’s grip, “i’m not going with him,” she sneered and bucky rolled his eyes. “pietro’s a fan, how will you build your fan base if you don’t have a fan helping you out?” bucky opened the car door and sort of shoved natasha inside. 

bucky felt a tug on his sleeve, “you’re not coming?” bucky shook his head. “you’ve got to do this alone.” he said before shoving the door closed. bucky watched as pietro drove away with natasha. bucky huffed before running back inside to grab his coat. 

he made his way back outside and climbed into the overly expensive car and drove to your place. you didn’t live more than a block away so it took no time for bucky to pull into your driveway. 

climbing out of the car, bucky saw the last person he thought he’d see during his stay in brooklyn. “mr. stark, hey.” bucky greeted and tony turned to face the voice. his eyes widening in surprise as he stared at bucky. he let out a deep laugh, “if it isn’t mr. valentine’s day,” bucky dropped his head. “james, here, would buy my little girl a dozen roses and a stuffed animal every year for valentine’s day. it would make her boyfriends crazy, until we explained that barnes was just her friend.” tony laughed to the tall man standing next to him.

“what a dick,” bucky mumbled to himself. “i see you still have the best decorations in brooklyn.” bucky spoke up and tony scoffed, “i think you mean the state, kid.” 

just then you came bounding out of the house. your hair falling onto your shoulders as you pulled the ponytail out of your head when you realized just how cold it was. you walked over to your father and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “hey, barnes. how’d you lose all that weight?” tony asked, curiosity lacing his voice. you jabbed your heel into your dad’s foot and he hissed before looking at you. 

“be nice,” you whispered before walking away from him to the expensive car. 

“i rented the most expensive car in brooklyn, i’m just gonna keep playing it cool and she’ll be putty in my hands in no time.” bucky laughed to steve. “buck, don’t-” bucky hung up once you opened the car door.

you sighed, “a wraith. the girls in la must love this.” bucky saw that you were clearly unimpressed by the car. he completely forgot tony stark was your father. and that he’s also a billionaire. “it’s a rental. it’s all they had left.”

and in no time you were at your favorite diner. you two frequented the diner all throughout high school. bucky shifted uncomfortably, “can we go somewhere else?” he asked and you rapidly shook your head, smiling. “no, we have history here.” bucky rolled his eyes, “yeah, history,” he muttered.

just then your favorite waitress came over to your booth. you smiled brightly at you as she approached you. she rested her hand on your shoulder, “oh, sweetie, it’s so good to see you.” she said and you touched her hand gently. “it’s good to see you, too, millie.” 

millie averted her eyes from you to bucky. she let out a small squeal as she pinched his cheek, “oh my goodness, it’s been so long since i’ve seen you.” she said and bucky attempted to pull away. a fake smile plastered on his face, “you can let go now,” he said and millie dropped her hand. 

“you’re not a chubby bunny anymore,” she smiled. “i’ll be right back.” she squealed before scurrying off. you laughed, mocking bucky by holding up bunny ears to your head. “chubby bunny,” bucky smiled and rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up. thanks for reminding me i was fat in high school.” 

you sighed, “i want to know why you disappeared on me ten years ago, i thought we were okay.” you bit your lip and bucky dropped his head, “come on, doll, it was a decade ago. i’m not that pathetic dork anymore.” he mumbled as he played with his fingers. “you never pathetic, bucky. but, you were a little bit of a dork.” you laughed and he chuckled. 

quickly changing the topic, “tell me about your job.” bucky perked up a little, “it’s nothing glamorous, but the phone is constantly ringing. you’ve got drake calling you, bruno’s birthday party, or harry styles’ album release party. i’m name dropping right now and i’d really like to stop.” bucky blushed.

“what about you, how’d you end up at the red tavern?” he frowned. “i don’t work at the tavern, i mean i do, but it’s not full time. dad’s trying to get me to take over stark industries, but it’s not what i want. so, i’m currently working on my teaching-” you were cut off by bucky’s phone ringing. 

he looked up at you, “i have to take this,” he said before he slipped out of the booth. 

you rolled your eyes and began to pick at your menu. 

pietro’s voice came through the line, “how’s it going with stark?” bucky smirked, “treating her like every boyfriend she’s ever had.” pietro laughed before muttering a ‘nice.’ bucky hummed, “so, how is it going with natasha?” pietro smiled. “great, so i had an idea.” he started, tossing and catching a taser he had in his hands.

bucky snorted, “leave the ideas to wanda. thinking isn’t really your thing, kid.” pietro rolled his eyes, “what if i go to paris with natasha while you stay here and win over stark?” bucky chuckled, “absolutely not.” pietro snapped, “you haven’t heard the whole thing! just, think about it.” pietro said, accidentally pushing the button on the taser. 

a few feet away, natasha had been standing at the balcony looking down at all the children taking their christmas pictures. then suddenly, she was falling over. pietro quickly hung up the phone and bucky went back to his seat. he opened his mouth to speak and millie appeared with two plates. 

“here we go,” she said excitedly, “two grilled cheese sandwiches,” she set your plate in front of you, “and, one sugar mountain supreme for the chubby bunny!” she placed the mountain of pancakes covered in chocolate, whipped cream, and three different candies in front of bucky.

bucky gulped, “yeah, this isn’t gonna work for me, millie.” he said causing her face to fall, “but, it’s what you always ordered,” she stammered and bucky smiled. “yeah, ten years ago. back when i was the size of the chrysler building.” your eyes widened at bucky’s behavior, “the pancakes are fine, millie. he’s joking.” you said and kicked bucky under the table. millie nodded before scurrying off and you scoffed, embarrassed by your friend’s behavior. 

“could you be more rude?” bucky looked at you as if you’d grown another head. “me!? she’s rude! i haven’t eaten that in ten years, do you know what that would do to my stomach?” you rolled your eyes, switching your plates.

“here, princess, you can have my sandwich.” god, he was being such a drama queen. bucky took a small sip of his water, “no, thanks, doll. i’m stuffed from the water.” he rolled his eyes, slouching back in his seat. you began pulling on your coat, shaking your head at bucky as you stood up. you took a few bills out of your coat pocket and set them on the table.

“thanks, james.” you said before walking away from the booth. “what an asshole!” you shouted as you pushed the door opened and began marching back home.

seven

taglist:

@starkxpotts / @captain-avengerss / @metermarker / @propertyofpoeandbucky/ @inlovewith3 / @thisismyfriend-tree / @amor67figment-love / @sourieeseb / @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency / @renalilo/ @skin-like / @comicaluke / @breezy1415 /

[andrina-the-amazingsupergenius]

No Mourners || Rowdy N Randy

Summary: Andrina and Rob Triton blow this Popsicle stand-- see ya later, suckers. 

@n0ttinghamshad0w

ROB   Rob got a text from an unknown number. It was three words. It changed everything.   We got him.   He knew immediately it was Joan. That Joan was talkin’ about Fakhir. That somehow — somehow — they’d gotten Fakhir out of prison. Whether the money Rob had wired ‘em had sponsored a lawyer or somehow busted him out.   Where, Rob texted back.   The next answer was coordinates. A date. All in a code that they’d made up long ago. Rob committed it to memory.    He needed to leave town.   He was overdue to leave town.    He’d gotten comfortable here, settled.    This text was a jolt. A reminder that he wasn’t ever supposed to be in Swynlake that long.    He needed to do something about it. He needed to leave.   He filed that thought away and went to dinner with the Triton family.   After that pretty uneventful dinner — and the very eventful aftermath — Rob lay on the mattress he called a bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, smokin’ a cigarette. He thought of the text. He turned to Andrina who was sitting besides him, shifting so he was on his side.   “Hey, I need to get out of town,” he said. “Soon as possible, actually. And I can’t come back. Not for a long time at least.” He paused. “Wanna come?”    Even after the fight, he thought she might say no. She did have her family here, after all, and family bonds ran deep. Asking her to pick up everything she’d ever known and never come back was somethin’ big. Well, not that she couldn’t come back. But he couldn’t. Not for a long time at least.   If he had doubt, though, it didn’t show on his face, as he smiled and took another drag. 

  ANDRINA Andrina was going to leave Swynlake. 

The anger that fueled her throughout her confrontation with Tina hadn’t left yet. Instead, it tunneled ever deeper through her, becoming a permanent part of Andrina Triton. Because with the anger came freedom. She had realized as she stalked home-- well, to Rob’s place-- that if she truly no longer gave a fuck about her sisters’ feelings, there was nothing that she couldn’t do. She could quit her job at Whosits and Whatsits, which she only did to make Daddy happy. She could move out of her apartment and crash with Rob, because she spent enough time with him anyway. She could refuse to come to family dinners every single fucking day of the week. No more checking in, more more ‘reporting for duty, mister!’, no more movie nights where her sisters squabble for literally a half hour over someone’s choice.    She didn’t have to, not anymore. Would her sisters hate her? Maybe. But hey, not giving a fuck, remember!    There was a new Andrina here, one waiting to burst forth from her cocoon after so many years of suffocating. What did an Andrina who was not beholden to the Tritons look like? Did she get more shit done? Did she laugh more? Was she happier?    Andy got to find out.   So actually what Andy was doing while in Rob’s bed was looking at cruises online. She’d never been on a cruise before, but it sounded like the kind of thing that was up her alley. What better way to fuck off from Swynlake for a week or two and come back rejuvenated? Attina hated her little Blackpool stunt? Well how about a little jaunt through the Caribbean!    Rob would come with her. They’d dance and fuck and steal the left earrings off all the rich ladies. They’d eat an unlimited supply of frozen yogurt. Maybe they’d stay on the islands, who knows!   Then Rob, like he was reading her mind, propositioned her before she could proposition him.    Her eyebrows raised. “Are you cheating off me?” Andy said and, giggling, she playfully moved her phone against her chest as if she was hiding her answers. “I was literally just looking for some way to fuck off. Granted, I was thinking more of the honeymoon variety but…” she tossed her phone to the edge of the bed and then clambered onto his lap, her thighs on either side. “Whatcha thinking?” She pressed the pad of her thumb in the middle of Rob’s sexy, bushy brows. “You have your plotting face on. Is it illegal?”    Rob   “Nah,” said Rob after he’d laughed and let out a little sigh of relief he didn’t even know he had in him. He rested his hands on Andrina’s legs, lookin’ up at her, his back against the wall.    “Well. Okay, we wouldn’t be doin’ anything illegal.” Yet. Actually I don’t know all the details, but long story short, one of my mates was in prison and now he’s not and the whole gang’s finally in a place where we can meet up. Well not the whole gang…”   This was more about his life than he’d ever divulged. If Andrina was gonna skip town with him and meet Fakhir and Joan and Martin, then, well, he might as well tell her.   “Most of ‘em except Tuck, who’s studyin’ to be a priest or somethin’ — but the rest of ‘em are my crew from back in the day.” His fingers danced up her thigh, fiddling with the hem of her shorts, findin’ somethin’ to do so he didn’t feel as… exposed as he did. “But it’s Joan and Martin and Fakhir — he’s the one outta prison. Which wasn’t a stealin’ things thing so much as it was a wrong place, wrong time thing.”   He chuckled, “But yeah, always meant to use this place as a pit stop before we all got back together to pull off more jobs. And if you’re comin’ along we can dream a little bigger.” He sat up a little straighter, leaning towards her, almost like he was gonna kiss her. “I always wanted to rob a private museum. Or a billionaire with a fancy security system. Need a full team for that, though.”   He caught her lip between his teeth, pullin’ her closer.    “First step’s gettin’ to bloody Croatia though. So y’know, actually a pretty lovely honeymoon destination.” 

  ANDRINA Andrina had never heard any of these names before. They belonged to pre-Rob-Triton. To a pre-Rob-in-Swynlake, even. This was him before, the man who Andrina had only ever glimpsed. The mystery of that Rob had absolutely been part of not only his appeal, but the appeal of the different skills he offered her. Learning how to pickpocket, to pick locks, to plan a robbery--these were all roads into his mystery.   Andrina didn’t actually want to know, by the way, the answer. But she liked being part of the mystery as it unraveled or got more complicated. And this was definitely a handful of new clues. Look at all the people who knew her husband undoubtedly better than Andrina herself.    She wanted to meet them.   Actually, she wanted them to meet her. She imagined wiggling her fingers and flashing that ring at their faces. She imagined pulling out her laptop and showing them what she could do. Would there be a place for her? It sounded like maybe there could be, if only temporarily.    And in Croatia too. She’d never been there.    Andrina tilted her head. Her hands trailed down Rob’s neck, brushed over his collarbone. She gripped his shoulders. They had sex like this often, Andrina fucking Rob into this grimy little mattress, watching him watch her.    “I could get behind Croatia,” she said. One of her flirtiest smiles flashed across her face and she teased a little playful pout into her voice as she took on the role of silly girlfriend. “Did you tell them about me at all? D’you think they’d like me?”   

ROB   “They know about you,” said Rob, “though the ring’s gonna be a surprise.”   He had, actually, told Joan and the lot about Andrina, though he hadn’t mentioned a name, just that there was a girl and she could get into any security system she wanted. That had been enough to impress the gang, though Rob was certain Joan’d think Andrina was hot.    “May’ve been talkin’ you up for a time,” he admitted, kissin’ her on the neck. “Dinnit mention a name, though, security hazard an’ all. But you’re our key to steppin’ up to the next level — if you’re interested.”   He still spoke a little cautiously, somethin’ deep inside of him afraid she’d laugh and tell him thanks, but no thanks. That he’d been a fun little adventure for a while, but now she was goin’ to get back to the things that really mattered to her.   But she didn’t seem to want to back off. Andrina’s eyes glimmered. She looked interested. She looked — she looked like she was going to stay with him. For now. That was all that mattered, really.    “But they’ll like you. If I like you, they’ll like you,” he said, kissin’ her on the mouth now. “We’ve, er, just got to leave as soon as we possibly can in order to make it to our rendezvous point on the specified date. Like within a day. 

  ANDRINA Well, Andrina liked to be the talk of the town. Or the talk of the Tritons. Or the talk of a criminal gang. She smirked, heart fluttering like a girl with a silly playground crush, as Rob kissed her cheek and stroked her hair and flattered her. She’d be more embarrassed about how easy it was to butter her up if it didn’t feel so good-- and if Andrina didn’t think she deserved it.    And you know what? There was no place for her, her talents, her interests here in Swynlake. She’d known that practically since her mum died. Year after year, she tried to ignore it on behalf of her sisters. Year after year, she enrolled in a Pride U class under the guise of taking her life seriously. Year after year, she dropped out, failed to turn in an assignment, took a pass/fail. She’d accumulated a hodgepodge of credits she didn’t care about and wasted so much of Daddy’s money on a big pile of nothing.    The only class she’d never failed was this school of hard knocks, so to speak. Maybe she had an unfair advantage, being a princess with a credit card and nothing to lose. Maybe it wasn’t a perfect fit either because of that but--    Why’d she feel more like herself with Rob than anywhere else, if that was true?    She was starting to think this prank-marriage was going to stick. It wasn’t a prank at all. Or maybe it was a prank on herself-- surprise Andrina! You love something. Maybe not the boy, but you love this life.    She leaned down and kissed Rob full on the mouth and the line between those two things blurred. She didn’t need to pull it apart and define it. She had something better-- and that was Rob’s respect.   “I’m in,” she said against his lips. She leaned away and leaned back to unhook her bra. “We have time for a shag first, right, Mr. Triton?” She flashed a teasing smile as she peeled her own bra off and then held it out to the side, let it dangle there for a second, before she dropped it. 

  ROB    Now really, Rob dinnit know how he’d got here. Swynlake was supposed to be a one and done. But he’d stayed. Now he was married. It had all been a joke. Hadn’t it? Just for shits and giggles and they went along with it all and now his name was officially Rob Triton on a document somewhere and here was his wife takin’ off her bra and tellin’ him she’d run away with him.   Rob had known long ago that a life of a family and kids and a white picket fence would never be in the cards for him. He’d go mad, even if there was something nice about it. But there was no way he could do what he did best and also have that.   But he had somethin’ better.    He looked at Andrina and he kissed her on the mouth and he thought, well, maybe this was somethin’    This was more than something. This — Andrina — was the best thing. He wanted her to come along. He’d been bracin’ himself for the no. But she was coming with him. The intensity of the relief shocked him. He dinnit want to go anywhere without this woman.   He didn’t know if one day he’d wake up and feel differently — or if she would — but for now, he was gonna take that feelin’ and ride with it. Because there wasn’t anyone else in this world who’d not only ride with him, but pull him along too.    Rob knotted a hand in Andrina’s hair, kissing at her jawline. “For you?” he chuckled, running his free hand up her side. “Always time.”   

[funeral-clown]

at last, beth, the triad is complete

gay lawyers

Kevin Punt was an asshole. Violent. Angry. Sadistic.

You know, an asshole.

When Nelson and Murdock put him away for a few years, Foggy started resting a bit easier. Not much, because, well. Drop in the ocean. And. Well. Crime fighting partner with a masochistic streak. And. W e l l.

He didn’t sleep much.

But he slept better after locking Kevin Punt behind bars.

So when his parole hearing came up, he and Matt were quick to retake the case. The evidence was irrefutable, and the last thing they wanted was a monster like him back on the streets. 

Kevin Punt’s family was, to say the least, not pleased.

“Ma’am,” Matt interjected in his best ‘I am a sexy blind lawyer, please give me your attention and listen to me and maybe take your shirt off if you want haha just kidding but seriously listen to me’ voice (although that may just be Foggy’s interpretation). “I’m sorry you have to go through this again. But the fact of the matter is, your cousin was guilty. No one wants to face their family members’ dark side, but in Mr. Punt’s case, his violent tendencies and criminal persuasions make him a danger to the public.”

“My cousin,” the young woman hissed back, tears burning in her eyes like rage, “Was innocent. You’re liars. You’re as corrupt as everyone else in this damn city!”

“Hey,” Foggy began, “I know it’s hard to hear-”

His frankly very soothing tone apparently did not work. It was possible his frustration was poking through.

“He’s innocent! He would never hurt anyone, he’s just confused!”

“Sure,” Matt sighed, exhausted, “He didn’t commit egregious acts of violence. He just stumbled into that store owner with a baseball bat. Multiple times.”

“That’s unsubstantiated!”

“There was VIDEO!”

“Doctored evidence!”

“Miss Punt,” Matt broke through, a hint of his alter ego breaking through the thin veneer of civility, “I offer my condolences again. One can’t choose their relatives, and I admire your support. But I’m going to have to insist you leave.”

She stiffened.

“Fine,” she snapped, “But we’ll see how you silver-tongued lawyers do in court when the truth comes out.”

“Pretty sure we’ll rock it, ok, thanks for coming in! Bye!” Foggy watched as she stormed out the door. “Aaaaand she’s gone. Jesus, the whackadoo apple must consist of the whole family tree.”

Matt hummed.

“It was a little weird though, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“What she said. That last bit.”

Foggy shrugged.

“You didn’t see it, but she had desperate written all over her. She’s just another grieving family member with false hope. Sad, but not exactly uncommon. I expected her to say fake news next.”

Matt stared at the door, considering.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Anyway, are you hungry? I could murder some pad thai.”

Matt snorted, and the daily lunch argument began. The strange encounter soon fled to the back of his mind.

For the moment.

-

When Matt came in for work the next morning, his body was still sore from a relatively painful night. Not too much activity, with his reputation, but it just meant the people who were out and about were more prepared than usual. The armor could only do so much against a taser. Still, the ache was good. It was the ache of a job well done, an ache that saved lives. He took a quiet pride in it, in what his body could do. That said, the day would look much better after a cup of coffee.

“Wow,” Foggy remarked fondly, “You look like hell.”

Matt groaned.

“Do you ever get sick of making that pun?”

“Nah,” he said, “It feels fresh every time. Besides, you like the puns.”

“No, they’re childish and lame,” Matt says. 

This is not what comes out of Matt’s mouth.

“Yes, the teasing is a comforting reminder of how far we’ve come since you first discovered my vigilantism. I was afraid of losing you, and the fact that we can now openly joke about it is reassuring.”

Foggy stared, cup halfway to his mouth.

“Uh. Wow, buddy. Thanks for the. Honesty?”

Matt frowned.

“That’s. Not what I meant to say.”

“No, don’t wig out now. It’s kinda refreshing, not having to guess what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah,” Matt said dubiously, “I keep a lot of things private from you because I fear for your safety, and I know it frustrates you but I’m not willing to put you in harm’s way for my own sake.”

Matt glared down at his hands. Foggy’s eyes widened in shock.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Matt’s eyes snapped up.

“Foggy.”

“Matthew,”

“Lie to me.”

Foggy stood up, leaning over his desk.

“What’s that?”

“Lie to me. Something’s wrong. I need to make sure it’s just me.”

He could feel Foggy look him over.

“You look the same, pal. And by that I mean extremely attractive.”

Foggy breathed in sharply. Matt smirked.

“Let me guess.”

“I didn’t mean to say that!”

“Foggy. Something is very wrong.”

“I stole your pillow in college because it smelled like you and it helped me fall asleep!”

“Fog, I. You. Jesus, Foggy!”

“I need to leave right now immediately.”

Before he could stop him, his partner had grabbed his jacket and was out the door.

“Wait!” he called out. But Foggy was already gone.

-

Danny hummed thoughtfully over the phone, staring in consideration at the paper in front of him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you called me.”

Matt sighed.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else, and if I could have I would have called literally anyone else.”

“Hey!”

“Rand, I can’t help it! I’m compelled to honesty!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk. Well, more of a jerk than usual.”

Matt grit his teeth.

“You’re a man with the heart of a child and the power of at least a MINOR god, I don’t think you’re very responsible and quite frankly while I’m very proud of the strides you’ve taken with your company and wouldn’t want it in any other hands I’m morally opposed to billionaires.”

Danny nodded, beginning to fold creases into the paper.

“Yeah, sounds like a truth spell buddy. You piss off any witches?”

“None that I know of.”

Danny shrugged.

“I just shrugged.”

“I could hear it.”

“You can hear shrugs?”

“Danny.”

“Look, best I can say is let it runs it’s course. These type of things are meant to teach us lessons.”

“I don’t have time for zen bullshit!”

“Sure, Catholic. Also tampering with the spell might make it permanent. Which.”

“Fuck.”

“Have fun saying your Hail Mary’s for that.”

“Good bye, Daniel.”

“Bye, Matt!”

He waited for the click before presenting the table with a perfectly folded paper football.

“You ready for this, Luke?”

“Oh, I was born ready.”

-

“Foggy,” Matt’s phone politely informed him. “Foggy. Foggy. Fo-”

“Answer,” he snapped.

“It’s a truth spell!” Foggy blurted.

“Yeah, I know. I talked to Danny.”

“Rand? Really?”

“He was on a magical temple for most of his life. How did you figure it out?”

“I just asked Stephen Strange.”

“What?”

“I’m his lawyer. And I never grumble at him, so he likes me better.”

“What did Strange have to say?”

“He said it would probably run about a week, and if he tampered with it it might become permanent.”

“Sounds about the same.”

“You know who did this, right?”

“Punt.”

Foggy growled.

“I am getting really sick of that family, Matt.”

“It’ll be over soon.”

“This is going to make working on the case hell.”

“Why?”

“Because now I have to actively resist telling everyone I know that you’re Daredevil. And I have to actively resist telling you that I-”

The dial tone clicked.

Foggy had apparently found a loophole.

-

It was awkward. They both left the room multiple times. Matt didn’t know what Foggy was keeping secret, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was in love with him. Even if it was obvious to everyone else.

“You know,” Foggy remarked over noodles, “This curse sucks, but like. It kinda evens the playing field.”

Matt quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean. You can tell I’m lying whenever you want. But. Now I know for sure you’re not lying to me, either.”

“I’m sorry I hurt your trust enough that you worry about that.”

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t trust me.”

“I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

“I’d put myself in harm’s way for you any day. We’re bros.”

Matt bit his tongue.

“Matt?”

Matt bit harder.

“Matt, what the fuck your mouth is bleeding! What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to keep things to myself,” he grunted, hoarse.

“Jesus, Matt, do I need to leave?”

“I never want you to leave.”

“What?”

“I never want you to leave.”

Foggy paused, wheeling the chair around the desk to be knee to knee with him. He radiated caution.

“Well. I never want to have to leave you, buddy.”

“I don’t,” Matt choked out, throat closing from the strain of keeping the words down, “Want to be your buddy.”

Foggy smelled hurt.

“What?”

“Foggy. I don’t just want to be your buddy.”

Foggy gulped.

“I’ve been trying really hard, here, Matty.”

“I know.”

“I don’t. Want to misunderstand. But it hurts to not say what I want to say. What I’ve always wanted to say. And I don’t. I don’t want to say it, if you’re. If you’re not gonna say it back. Not gonna feel it back.”

“Foggy,” Matt whispered.

“Matt.”

“I knew you took my pillow.”

“I know you knew.”

“I never asked to switch back.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Foggy’s hand shook as it reached forward and rested on Matt’s. His skin nearly screamed at the sensation, aching all over from the long time sense he had last been touched like this. Carefully. As if he were fragile. As if he could break.

“Foggy,” he breathed.

“I really want to kiss you,” he admitted, half hope and half rue.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me for almost 7 years.”

“Well,” Foggy leaned in, “Better late than never.”

It was soft, and firm, and a little wet. It was an everyday, normal, average kiss.

Matt lit up everywhere like an electric panel, gasping as the sensation washed over him. Gripping his hair, he pulled Foggy in deeper, opening his mouth in an attempt to steal back his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered into his mouth, “I think I might have loved you my entire life. I just didn’t know it yet.”

Foggy’s hands tightened around his thighs.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you since we first met. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t know how not to love you.”

“Don’t learn,” Matt hissed, fierce. “Don’t learn how. If you left I’d be lost.”

“Don’t worry, Matty,” Foggy laughed, pulling him in closer by his tie, “You’re the fast learner.”

-

The trial wasn’t very long. They presented the evidence, spoke of the victim’s family, mentioned his irrational behavior, spoke of the personal threats they’d received in the mail. 

Every word of it was honest and true.

Kevin Punt did not receive parole.

His cousin stood in the audience, crying as he was taken away, screaming threats.

“It’s true,” she whispered. “He really did those terrible things.”

Foggy lay a comforting hand on her elbow.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

She nodded, sniffling.

“Also, you’re a bitch for placing that spell on us.”

She stiffened, before sighing and nodding again.

“I just wanted him to have every chance.”

Foggy squeezed her elbow and left.

“I guess I deserved that. You make someone speak truth, he’ll call you a bitch.”

“Oh, he would have called you that anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like it when his privacy is invaded. I should know, I’m Da-”

“MATT. I need you to come take me home until this thing wears off!”

Matt turned towards the door.

“Be right there, sweetheart.”

He offered his arm to the woman.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I need you to lead me to my partner.”

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem.”

Bitch, he added silently.

“We’re going to have victory sex after this,” he added.

“The spell wore off after the hearing!”

“I know,” he was giddy, “I just wanted everyone to know. I’m a very lucky man.”

“That you are, Matt,” Foggy took his arm from the stricken woman and gave his hand a squeeze. “That you are.”

“Did you just wink at me?”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

There were some benefits to honesty.