#birdycurtainswrites

[birdycurtains]

UNDER MY SKIN

Peter Parker has only ever found happiness at the bottom of a bottle, for as long as he could remember. And when that wasn't even enough he turned to something harder, a vicious cycle that warped and twisted all of his teenage years. After getting involved in legal trouble due to his latest escapades, he now must turn his life around.

After befriending Becca, the girl at the local bakery, things slowly begin to look up for him. Learning and building his own support system is supposed to be key to his recovery, and he hadn't been doing too terribly until his feelings for his newfound friend's brother seem to be getting in the way.

Crushes and pining after unavailable men have never been an issue before, but Bucky Barnes also happens to be ten years older than him, and his AA Group Leader.

                                            -  FIND ME HERE -

my first ever ao3 exclusive fic is now up! i know i have been pretty inactive on here, but i have so many things i’ve been planning and working on that i hope i can soon share with you guys!

[starkerparkerpony]

I Scold Because I Stan Pt.2

AU where Tony (44-45 y/o) meets an aged up (23-24 y/o) Peter after Civil War, Tony is broken up with Pepper and all kinds of sorry for himself. Peter is a ESU graduate and currently has an internship with Oscorp and is a photographer for the Daily Bugle he is also spiderman and therefore perpetually exhausted and has very little patience

Read part 1 here, part 3 here

Not much scolding in this one but very dialogue heavy... Please continue reblogging. Continuing on -

Tony believed there's certain feelings in life that you must absolutely not feel once over the age of 25... for example, no middle-aged man should have anxiety about calling a potential romantic interest. Especially if said 'potential romantic interest' shamelessly hit on Tony in the first place. The guy was definitely interested, he had made it clear to Tony that he was definitely interested. Tony could just call the guy... but would he.

A week earlier when Peter Parker woke from the nap he was taking in a booth at an Irish pub for some reason, Tony absolutely did not imagine that any conversation they might have would go the way their's did. It was a testament to Mr. Parker's extempore prowess. It was also mildly embarrassing and almost traumatizing to be scolded and praised all at once. But after Parker left, Tony found himself... smiling... and blushing, like a complete idiot, but smiling and blushing nonetheless.

When back at home Tony set Friday on the curious case of Peter Parker. Which led to spending an ungodly amount of time on the guy's Instagram. Which in turn led to Tony gleaning some useful information about him, Peter Parker wasn't exactly new to the world of the rich and famous, he appeared to be a close friend of Harry Osbourne, posing with him in not just generic selfies but also pictures taken at high profile society events.

It also appeared that Mr. Parker was no stranger to superheroes either, his work with the Daily Bugle was almost entirely photos of Spiderman... Tony didn't know Spidey personally but going by the coverage the newspaper gave him, it was hard to imagine that the masked hero would be a friend of Parker's but the guy somehow always managed to get the best picture of Spidey, which indicated a willingness to follow trouble on Parker's part.

And then there was the entire thing about how gorgeous and intelligent and utterly disarming the boy was...

The 3 patents he had told Tony about were no joke- a medical grade adhesive, an industrial grade adhesive and a potential replacement for spandex. Not to mention his eyes...

Tony kept telling himself that he was too old to have a crush... but he knew it was too late. He thought back to the way he felt when Peter smiled at him, bruised and all... The damage was done.

The first time Tony called Peter, he didn't pick up and it went to voicemail. Tony didn't leave a message. It was just 9PM, there was no way he was already asleep. Right? For a second he dreaded the possibility of Parker being one of those millennials who don't take phonecalls, then for another hour he wondered if this was a sign from the universe about an endeavor that should be abandoned. So of course Tony called again.

"I don't do booty calls past 10 I have a job now" was how Parker answered the phone. Jesus Christ.

"Good to know, I was thinking about lunch tomorrow actually." Tony said without missing a beat

"Jesus Christ!" Parker exclaimed, obviously thrown.

"Close. Tony Stark" He chuckled

"No I know... Crap, I'm sorry, my friend Harry is the only one I know who calls with a private number. I thought it was him." He explained

"Am I Sorry to disappoint?" Tony asked trying not to sound anxious.

"Absolutely not. I actually definitely would do a booty call after 10 for you." Tony could hear the smile in his voice.

"But not after 11 though?" Tony joked trying not to blush.

"No that honor is reserved for Bruce Banner and Bruce Banner only."

"You have good taste in men" Bruce was Tony's friend, he had to admit he was warmed by the fact that Peter wasn't one of the assholes who held 'big green' against him.

"Ha Ha thanks... he represents us bio-chem nerds well, one of my projects is actually inspired by him and also he is very cute in press conferences."

"The spandex replacement?" Tony guessed

"Oh no... you googled me. Ew."

"Hey that's rich coming from the guy that sticks my photos on his wall." He defended himself

"No no... there's this god awful picture of me that comes up on image search from when my team won the scholastic decathlon, I look like a single prepubescent noodle in it." Parker grouched

"Good tip... also nice covert bragging with the decathlon thing Mr. Parker" Tony said as he pulled the picture up and sniggered.

"Thank you I'm so glad you caught that... so what was it you were saying about lunch?" Parker enquired.

"Right... Lunch? Tomorrow?" Tony hoped he didn't sound desperate.

"Sounds good to me. I mean it sounds like a bizarre dream I'm having but I don't wanna stroke your ego unnecessarily, you already called first... I love that I have the upper hand here"

"Congratulations on the upper hand smartass... do you wanna do 'Nobu'?" Tony suggested

"Oh my god... I'm gonna throw your P.A. and your PR team a bone and nix that idea... you beautiful disaster" Peter laughed

"Umm... what?"

"Nobu has papparazi outside of it 24/7, and I hate to break it to you buddy but your break up with Ms. Potts was kinda' public. I can't even begin to imagine what hell you, being photographed with a strapping twunk half your age would be on your team." He explained himself

"Okay calm down strapping twunk... How would anybody even know its a date?" Tony scoffed

"Umm Mr. Stark if I have the chance to grab your ass in public and have photos taken of the event then I absolutely will do it." said Peter, very sincerely.

"My God how can you call me Mr. Stark and talk about grabbing my ass in the same sentence?" Tony cursed his susceptibility to blushing whenever talking to this guy.

"Listen man, I'd call you Tony but this 'Mr. Stark' thing lowkey turns me on though." Peter said in a teasing voice.

Same, Tony admitted to himself.

"Kink noted. You do have a point though... I haven't had to deal with my personal PR or had a P.A. in a while." Said Tony, thoughtful.

"How can you not have a P.A.? Is that even legal?" Peter asked

"Well, I made my last one the CEO of my company, fell in love with her, started dating her and then very publicly got dumped by her... so I'm apprehensive about replacing her." Tony regretted this outburst as soon as he finished talking.

"I think about you when I touch myself." Peter informed

"What. The. Hell. Parker" Tony said, trying to sound affronted when he could barely contain his laughter

"Oh sorry buddy I thought we were playing the oversharing game." Peter sniggered. "You know what you should do? You should get an older Jewish lady to be your P.A. it's what Norman Osbourne did for his son when he kept hitting on his P.A.s.

"Because you know what, Mrs. Leibowitz would bring you Passover brisket and she would never dump you publicly." Peter was almost giggling now.

"Right, she would write me a considerate note." Tony laughed along with Peter.

"Exactly!" He chuckled

There was a lull in the conversation then, during which Tony made up his mind.

"Lunch at the tower tomorrow." Tony decided

"Fine by me. Wait. Do you have any dietary restrictions?"

"No. I sometimes go gluten free but not because of celiac just because I like to be an asshole. Why?"

"Cool, I'm bringing Pizza. You paid for drinks last time." stated Peter

"You do realize that I have chefs on my payroll?" Tony asked

"You do realize that I'm offering to bring you Joe's from Greenwich?" Peter countered

"Point taken." Tony conceded

"Good"

"See you"

"Not if I see you first"

"Oh my God"

"I know... I hate myself"

"I'm gonna' hang up now"

"Wait! What do I tell your security tomorrow?" Peter asked

"Tell them you've been summoned by the king" Tony said, only half joking.

"God you're such a douche but I'm so into you..." Peter replied

"I'm glad" Tony admitted

"Okay bye."

"Bye."

The next day Peter Parker texted to confirm the time and then showed up at Tony's place with pizza and a dozen red and yellow roses. And Tony didn't know what to do with himself.

Taglist- @spidey-nerd @areluctantsblog @briesb1tch @starkerhoefangirl @fleet-of-ships @darker-soft-starker @heybrotherpourthewine @buckybarnes-is-bae @starkerlovestony @nachtvuur @theginkosakata @plsstopgivingpetertrauma @highbloodprinz @supernaturalpadfoot @jealouspeachtea @strkrmdnss @thewolffearsher @starkravingspiders @whenfandomscollide @starkerrifics @starkersenses @merwinist @starkerdarling @this-starker-hoe @sad-princess28 @smidnite @inz-zer0 @mystarkershame @somethingihadtocarry @goodtimesstarker @frenchfrostpudding @lacechains @hermit-fangirl @ensdarktreasures @colorofpearls @narutoyaoifans @birdycurtainswrites @ravens-starker-stuff @lover-starker @littlemonstercupcake @antonystxrk @starkerkitty91x @tigger232 @mcusicals

[birdycurtains]

Winterspider #7

7. “You made me a mixtape? I don’t know, that’s kinda gay baby.”

Peter blinks blearily, attempting to let his eyes adjust to the darkroom. He has been staring at his phone screen for long he had barely noticed the sun had set outside. 

He falls back on to the pillows on his bed and is almost lulled into falling asleep for the rest of the night before remembering what he has finished.

“Buck.” He calls out, voice scratchy from lack of use. Peter rubs at his eyes and waits to hear the pattering of his boyfriend’s footsteps towards their bedroom

“Buck?” He asks out into the room, he had sworn he hadn’t heard Bucky leave. It’s not like Bucky would even think about not telling Peter if he had left, or even decided to go sit in another part of their home.

“Bucky!”

He is comforted to hear the quiet, but audible for him, trail of footsteps towards their bedroom.

“Yeah, baby?” Bucky asks, leaning against the doorframe and smiling cheekily at his boyfriend, who was swallowed into their comforter and surrounded by the too many pillows they had on their bed. 

“I made you something,” Peter mumbles quietly, looking expectantly at him. 

“Oh really?” The older man replies, biting into his lip, the smile not leaving his face for a second. 

Peter nods exaggeratedly in reply. “But, you have to come to bed right now if you want it.” Peter bargains, letting a small smirk play at his lips.

His boyfriend pretends to ponder the decision before slipping out of the room. 

Peter rolls his eyes and turns onto his stomach, tugging a pillow towards his middle and shuts his eyes.

He swore he had only blinked, but when he opens his eyes again, disturbed by a weight sinking onto Bucky’s side of the bed, the hallway light is shut off, and Alpine is curled up at the bottom of the bed. 

He hears a quiet rain trickling outside of the bedroom window, as he tries to listen in to what Bucky is doing. A large frame envelops his smaller one, and a pair of arms drag him into Bucky’s chest. Peter giggles, when a wet kiss is planted on the side of his neck.

“So what did you make me Bunny?” A low voice asks in his ear, Peter pushes down the butterflies that begin to flutter in his belly as he hears exhaustion laced into Bucky’s voice.

“A mixtape, they’re called playlists now, or whatever. But mixtapes make it sound like we’re in Say Anything.” Peter mumbles underneath his breath, he knows Bucky can hear him so he doesn’t raise his voice, not wanting to ruin their little bubble.

He feels his boyfriend smile into his shoulder, the stubble on his jaw scraping against his freckled skin, “You made me a mixtape? I don’t know. That’s kinda gay baby.” Bucky jokes.

Peter regrets exposing him to any shred of pop culture, or even the internet at that moment.

“I’m kidding, I love you in the gayest way. Let me get a listen.” He urges.

Peter opens his phone, quickly turning down the brightness as his eyes begin to sting for an abrupt moment. Before pulling up the app on his phone, he passes Bucky an earbud and putting in his own. 

His boyfriend hums in accordance as the music begins to play. Peter turns and curls into Bucky’s arms, and falls asleep and further in love, all the while Bucky does the same.

[birdycurtains]

i hope you find a way to be yourself someday 

- crying on the subway pt. 4

word count: 656

storyline: tony has been cheating on pepper with peter. peter is helplessly in love with tony and he’ll take whatever he can get out of tony.after letting tony use him for months, no matter what emotional distress it has caused him, he learns tony has made her his fiancée.

It feels heavy in his hand.

Peter has measured the density of countless things, including paper, and it was never this strenuous of a task to hold a simple card.

But it felt as if his hand was being weighed down by a slab of concrete, grounding him to the exact second he looked at the wedding invitation.

He should’ve been ready for this. He knew it was coming, and he certainly knew Pepper wouldn’t hesitate to invite Tony’s favorite protege to their wedding. 

He knew that his presence wouldn’t have been desired if Tony Stark had decided on the guest list. Especially since he saw the same wine-colored invitation face down on the coffee table.

Tony would never have invited Bucky. They were on decent terms at most, and he remembered how Tony’s therapist had been encouraging him in the direction of forgiveness for Bucky’s crimes against his parents.

It was one of the few things Tony and Peter had actually fought about. 

Tony had wanted to move Peter into the tower, or even a nice brownstone in the village that he owned. 

Peter firmly declined, because how was he going to make it in life, if he was constantly depending on Tony? And besides, Bucky was a great roommate, and they split the rent, so it wasn’t like he was shelling out his life savings on some shoebox. 

Maybe things would have been different.

Peter feels the warm glare of the sun pour through the windows as it begins to drop behind the skyline. He tries to level himself within his own reality, ground himself on to the warped hardwood flooring of his apartment. 

His sensitive hearing picks up on the squeaking of knobs bringing a halt to the shower in the bathroom. The rustling of the shower curtain, and then a towel being pulled from the rack. His trained ear follows the sounds that signals Bucky is done, it means Bucky will be here, and save him from the rabbit hole that is thinking about Tony Stark.

Bucky always saves him. 

Bucky is always there for him in the ways Tony never was. 

It’s almost like a sixth sense for Bucky, just knowing when Peter begins to shake, the thread of the seams holding him together beginning to pool at his ankles. 

He feels familiar arms wind around his middle, the whirring vibranium limb brings him a comfort he had never quite known. Something that won’t remind him of Tony. The one flesh and blood, and other a marveling prosthetic. 

His pieces return to their rightful place, as trembling hands clutch against the older man’s. 

A delicate kiss is placed against his shoulder, where Bucky’s flannel doesn’t cover. Peter nearly purrs, but he can’t help it. Bucky’s arms are the safest place he’s ever known.

“You got one.” Bucky drawled, his voice low and husky from the nap he woke up from.

It’s not a question, and from the angle, Bucky can probably see the crumpling paper wedged in his hand. 

“I’m going.” Peter sighed, the tone in his voice signaling this wasn’t up for debate.

“I wasn’t going to stop you.” The other almost huffed, but Peter knew it was just fond exasperation.

That was a surprise. He’s seen the anger and frustration in Bucky’s eyes, when he watches Peter break time and time again. He had assumed he would forbid him from attending, for the sake of Peter’s own wellbeing.

Peter froze in his ministrations of gripping onto his hands as if his physical contact with Bucky was his lifeline.

“May I go with you?”

This was James Barnes speaking. Low and soft in his ear, ever the gentleman ‘I’ll have her home by ten sir’. Peter never minded hearing or feeling James Barnes, Brooklyn’s Sweetheart. 

But this was also Bucky, watching Peter heal and grow, and wanting to be there with him, when he does. 

“Wouldn’t have gone without you.”

taglist: @sarcasmandsugar​, @honeybunstarker​, @mrstarksbaby​ :)

shoot me an ask or comment if you want to join the taglist!

[birdycurtains]

crying on the subway

word count: 403

storyline: tony has been cheating on pepper with peter. peter is helplessly in love with tony and he’ll take whatever he can get out of tony.

after letting tony use him for months, no matter what emotional distress it has caused him, he learns tony has made her his fiancée.

Peter never liked taking the subway. It was always too crowded, filled to the brim with noises, smells, and god-whatever-the-hell-that-is plastered to the pole across from him.

But now it’s in the late hours of the night.

A safe hour, where no one, but the sleeping homeless man sitting across from him, is present in the cart.

A safe hour, where he can put in his headphones and listen to the somber depressing music on a playlist MJ made.

He can recall leaving the tower as the rain began to fall. But after that, he just remembers walking. Turning down this street and that, his gaze fixed on the rainwater in the cracks in sidewalks and feeling the drops, that were racing down awnings, fall into his hair.

The chill racing down his spine from the icy precipitation, a reminder of his presence, pulling him from his dissociation. He looks up, in a vaguely familiar area and realizes he’s in the Bronx.

Too far from where he was supposed to turn in the direction of his neighborhood.

Peter’s vibrating phone, incessantly pinging until it garners his attention. He glances at the lock screen, full of worried messages from May asking him where he is when he’ll be home, and the empty threats of ‘if you don’t answer me right now’.

Peter remembers more now, as he looks for the familiar descent of stairs. He knows he ran into Happy, declining a ride and taking off into the night, he thinks he called after him, but his mind is just congealed into this lump of muddled thoughts. Everything after stepping through the revolving door is just a haze, all his movements on auto-pilot.

His limbs feel heavy as he hops the turn-style, like every ounce of Spider-Man agility, has left his body. His bones like lead as he walks town the illuminated tile walkway and hopping on to whatever train has just arrived.

Peter knew he couldn’t go back to Manhattan, he couldn’t go to May’s, and he was sure as hell, wasn’t going to call anyone to come to get him.

So he drags his knees up to his chest, turns the music up a little louder, and tries not to think about how he kissed Tony Stark for the last time.

Because in a few months, he’ll be a married man.

And Peter isn’t going to be the one at the altar.

[birdycurtains]

BACK OF A CAB - crying on the subway pt. 3

word count: 710

storyline: tony has been cheating on pepper with peter. peter is helplessly in love with tony and he’ll take whatever he can get out of tony.after letting tony use him for months, no matter what emotional distress it has caused him, he learns tony has made her his fiancée.

He misses him immediately. He would be lying if he said anything else.

He misses the lingering touches, heated stares. Being held.

Peter had been truly touch-starved before he began his relationship with Tony. He had become addicted to the feeling of skin on skin, addicted to the intimacy. 

All-in-all, he was addicted to Tony.

Hooked on the smell of his cologne, his whiskey breath, his shampoo. The smell of his sheets at four in the morning. 

He yearned to see his eyes, run his hands through his hair, feel the older man’s grip on his thighs. Kiss him. Taste him.

Now he lies in empty sheets. Awake, and grief-stricken over a dream long forgotten, but the memory of the emotion leaves a gaping hole in his chest. 

Peter feels more hollow than before.

He does nothing to stop the tears this time, letting them well up and fall. He lets out a few sobs before breaking into something akin to howls of pain.

He’s known pain like this before. 

He’s felt it in the way he held Ben, as the life left his eyes. 

Tony isn’t dead though, he’s alive and well, and has Pepper keeping his bed warm. 

Peter wishes he were so that maybe he might have an excuse as to why he feels like he’s suffered another great loss. Why he has the fits and dreams where he is rattled with loneliness and abandonment at the hand of a man he still loved.

He thinks back on a memory, after a gala, or charity event hosted by Pepper, he was in the back seat of some town car, Tony’s mouth on his. Then on his neck. 

He kissed so softly, so tenderly, like Peter could break. And he remembered the emotion bubbling up in his throat as the words spilled from his lips.

“I love you.”

Tony stopped for a second, hesitating, and Peter felt his stomach drop.

Tony returned to reality, with an almost manic determination as he buried a hand in Peter’s once perfectly styled hair and pulled him down on top of him.

Peter mistook it for reciprocation.

It was almost a dance, of Peter sharing or confessing his undying love through words or actions, and Tony gave him the illusion that any semblance of love he gave Peter was real.

Something in his chest snaps and all he wants to do is scream, but no sound manages out of his mouth and he crumbles against his mattress.

Peter flinches as he feels hands pull him from his heap on his bed. He’s buried in a warm embrace and the tightness of the grip almost has him chasing away the scent of sheetrock, but this is safe. 

He pushes his face into a neck, his hands grabbing and pulling at a t-shirt, a sound of fabric ripping through the air reverberates, but a cool metal hand on the back of his neck has him lax in seconds.

Bucky just holds Peter as the sobs rip through him.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter manages to wrench out. His composure is wilting, big doe eyes glossy and ready to spill.

“‘S’all good.” His roommate murmurs, voice low and husky from sleep. 

It reminds him of Tony’s voice as he asks him to leave in the mornings.

But it’s not. This is Bucky, Bucky is safe, warm. Not quite whole, but neither is Peter.

Peter’s used to coaxing Bucky out of night terrors, and other trauma associated attacks, much like Bucky does for Peter.

He had invited Peter to live with him after Peter had gotten into a fight with the roommate he shared a dorm with his first year of college, and Peter accepted. Elated even.

He never relayed the nature of his and Tony’s relationship to Bucky, but he suspected he knew. After all, the man was always there to pick up the pieces every time Tony shattered Peter to pieces.

Peter melts into the hold Bucky has on him and inhales the scent of petrichor and pine, satiated at the absence of bergamot and sandalwood.

“I’m still missing

Dancing in the back of a cab with you

Convinced that we never had issues

The first love gets you bad, don’t it?”

[birdycurtains]

For the mood board prompt - how about Tony buying an old mansion to flip it and Peter is the hired architect consultant -des

i loveddd this prompt! since i’ve been cooped up in quarantine i’ve been watching these videos of people exploring abandoned homes, and it reminds me of these beautiful mansions just left behind. - birdy

-

Tony Stark hires Peter Parker, an architectural consultant from a quiet but esteemed firm, to assist him in his most recent project. 

He can’t help, but be charmed by the bubbly and enthused demeanour of Mr. Parker, and attempts to win the younger man’s heart over the course of the renovation plannings. 

-

[birdycurtains]

OFF AND ON - spidershield moodboard

“keeping up old ways

expecting diferent things”

- off and on (sales)

peter and steve have been together for three years, falling in and out of relationships, only to come back to each other every time.

no matter how much they fight, at the end of the day, they love each other enough to do it again tomorrow.

[birdycurtains]

STARKER HIGHSCHOOL AU:

Peter Parker and Tony Stark have lived in the same small town all their lives, attended the same schools, had the same classes, even lived on the same street. 

When Peter’s parents died in the house fire in the summer before junior year, Tony treated him like he wasn’t fragile, and showed him how to truly live within the confines of their monotonous reality.

They had been the most unlikely of best friends, Peter had kept to himself all these years prior, running in their separate cliques. 

But Tony took him under his wing, and introduced him to his senior friends. He got rides to school in Tony’s Pontiac Firebird, he skipped class to go the convenient store two miles up the road, get slushies and smoke backwoods in the bed of Bucky Barnes’ pickup.

One kegger that November, the night the football team had won the Thanksgiving home game, a switch flicked.

Maybe it was something in the beer, or the sativa in the joint he had been passed earlier.

But he was staring at Tony Stark, and he wanted to know what it was like to have his lips on his. 

[birdycurtains]

STARKER COLLEGE AU: DARK ACADEMIA

- train rides spent reading shakespeare

- they recite sonnets that remind them of one another

- days spent in cafés drinking expensive coffee and musing over poetry

- slow dancing to gymnopèdie 

- reciting sweet nothings in latin

- long kisses in the rain

[birdycurtains]

STARKER & WINTERSPIDER LOVE TRIANGLE BAND AU pt.1

word count: 601

a/n: shout out to the love of my life @sarcasmandsugar​ for beta-ing this for me. 

Tony Stark formed a band called Black Widow in highschool with some of his best friends. It unexpectedly took off, and the group quickly rose to fame. 

After his drummer, Clint Barton, decided to retire from the band to spend more time with his family years later, Tony had to find someone to fill his place.

He found the perfect performer and love interest in the form of a nineteen-year-old Peter Parker. 

He was a wandering musician who Tony found at the venue his band originally began playing in, where he was playing percussion for solo artists shows in need of a band. 

He immediately knew he needed to have him when he watched him play with a passion and fervour he only had found in himself.

Fellow band members, Natasha, Rhodey, and Bruce quickly took a liking to Peter for his amicable and sweet disposition was easily mended into the seams of the group. 

Shortly after their introduction, Peter had agreed to join in Clint’s place. 

It had happened over beer, set in the Chinese restaurant Tony had corralled him into getting drinks after Peter’s last set finished.

The quintet had piled into a booth with Bruce and Natasha coupled up and Peter sandwiched between Rhodey and Tony. Tony couldn’t tell if he was drunk on the booze or on the intoxicating scent of Peter’s cologne.

But Tony sweet-talked him, made jokes, and they all laughed until their sides were bruising. 

And most importantly, Peter agreed to join.

During rehearsals and recording sessions, Tony had a hard time keeping his eyes and hands off of him. It was precious, the way his curls bounced on his head, and how he would smile so softly at Tony whenever he caught his eye. 

Tony couldn’t help putting his hands on Peter’s waist as he carefully moved around him, especially not when he stuttered and blushed so prettily under his touch.

Tony was mesmerized watching him perform; his strong arms and agile handwork was enough to make Tony go starry eyed. 

And when he took off his shirt when practicing? Well, Tony was only human.

But, even with all his gawking and subtle hints, he was hesitant about being truly forthcoming about his feelings for the newest member. The age difference coupled with the power imbalance was enough to send any sane person in the other direction. 

Now to everyone else, it was obvious that the percussionist was head-over-heels for the older man, in the way his eyes would follow his every move, enamoured by his idol turned fellow band member.

Tony was oblivious.

---

Before their first show together, Peter was panicking. 

Tony had never seen him so shaken up: his hands were shaking and his honey-tanned skin was almost sickly pale and it had Tony worried. His stomach dropped watching this typically bubbly and confident person so fear-stricken.

He held Peter’s face in his hands in an attempt to calm him down, and the younger man leaned into the touch, making Tony’s heart skip a beat. 

Instead of saying anything, Peter only blinked owlishly up at the guitarist while he fumbled for words to reassure him with. 

“You’re perfect- I mean it’s gonna be perfect, you’re uh.. fine! No! I mean you’re good looking- But well-being wise!”

“Tony.”

“Sorry- I’m bad at this! Bad at speaking, voicing feelings, y’know.”

“Tony.”

“Peter- Yes.”

“Just kiss me.”

“I can do that.”

There weren't fireworks or a magic tingle, but with Peter’s lips on his, and his no-longer-shaking hands buried in his hair, he felt right, and there was no other place he would be. 

[birdycurtains]

how to disappear

word count: 532

a/n: hello! a prequel to crying on the subway, a minor fix-it? maybe? not really? i’m sorry i tried to make it soft, but this one still hurts. i am making a part three though :) i’m trying to figure out if i’m more inclined to making it winterspider, or spidershield

anyway this is inspired by the norman fucking rockwell album, bc let’s face it, that album is the cheating au anthem. 

I know he’s in over his head 

But I love that man like nobody can 

It’s early in the evening, the golden light of a sunset is pouring through the floor-length windows. He shamelessly basks in the warm rays like a content cat.

No incentive to remove himself from the nest of sheets strewn about the bed, not when Tony is humming softly next to him, tracing down his bareback oh-so-gently. 

Peter knows this time is to be treasured, not be tainted with the thought of what happens once he leaves the bubble. He lets the older man drop kisses against his exposed neck and shoulder, almost purring in contentment.

Tony’s still in the bubble too, he’s not overthinking yet, or telling him or insinuating he needs to leave. Pepper will be gone for a few more days. The bubble will pop in thirty-six hours, and Peter will be feeling the warm rays from his apartment, and trying to imagine the feel of Tony’s skin on his.

Because no one loves Peter like Tony. 

And no one else could love Tony like Peter does. 

I watched the guys getting high as they fight

For the things they hold dear

He doesn’t try to parent Tony. It would never end well for either party, he’s witnessed Pepper try a dozen times, it always ends in someone leaving the tower, and Tony doing what he wants anyway.

Peter will watch quietly as Tony does a line in the lab, smokes a blunt on the balcony while Peter drinks champagne and talks about a book he read aimlessly. Sometimes when he’s smoking a cigar, he’ll murmur real low and soft, his voice like silk “c’mere sweet thing”. 

Peter will drop into his lap, long legs straddling strong thick thighs, and he’ll lean down so close, they’re almost kissing, and Tony will blow into his mouth, long tendrils of smoke. Peter will try his best to breathe in and hold, just like Tony had shown him.

To forget the things they fear

This is how to disappear

When night finally hits, it feels like the world melts away. They’ve already made love for the dozenth time. 

Tony always laughs at him, when he calls it that. 

But the word fuck is too crude for the tender way Tony holds him. Presses his forehead into Peter’s and locks eyes, and Peter feels like he has transcended into some ethereal realm. Too harsh for the way Tony kisses away his tears, his plush lips parted against his cheeks.

The skyline is illuminated, and he has the best view. But all Peter can imagine doing is watching Tony as he sleeps, he knows it might be a bit creepy, but he can’t help it because these are the times Tony looks most at peace. The weight of the world and his past lifted off his shoulders for a few hours. 

And as the world becomes nothing but background noise, and it’s just him and Tony. This is the time he feels most at peace, and Peter wants to stay in this moment forever. 

As I whisper in your ear

I’m always going to be right here

No one’s going anywhere

[birdycurtains]

be my once in a lifetime

A breeze tickles his cheek, and his eyelashes flutter open as he hears a chirp next to him.

Peter smiles over at his husband, who’s too preoccupied with his daughter to notice. His heart swells at the view and sits up from the blanket on the grass. He curls himself over Tony’s shoulder and hums into his neck. 

He watches as she makes grabby hands towards the older man, and Tony is quick to scoop her up, allotting the little green hat perched on her head to fall. She settles as her demands have been met. 

“You’re Daddy’s girl, aren’t you Ginger?” Tony coos pressing kisses all over here tiny face. She only blinks up with wide doe eyes. 

Peter smooths a hand over the little smattering of curls on her head and places the fallen hat back on. 

“She’s perfect.” He murmurs in Tony’s ear. 

“You both are.” He replies meeting his younger husband in a kiss.

Peter smiles into the kiss and pulls away.

“I love you.”

“I love you more, Pete.”

--

taglist: @honeybunstarker @sarcasmandsugar 

shoot me an ask or comment if you want to be on my taglist :)

[birdycurtains]

under my skin: chapter two found here

[birdycurtains]

‘cause i am a fire escape, my spine is made of iron, my heart pumps out old red paint

word count: 610

a/n: i have been having the worst time! so i’ve decided to project onto peter parker, the title comes from Fire Escape by Foster The People, that song breaks my heart. anyway, hope y’all are doing better than i am :)

content warning: depression, loss, and kind of suicidal thoughts.

The weight on his chest at night is heavy. Heavier than the weight on his shoulders. His heart clenches, and he chokes back a sob as he presses his hand against his mouth.

It’s enough to muffle the noise, but his eyes still fill with tears. Down, down, down they drip from his cheeks, and soak into his pillow and t-shirt.

His eyes ache, and every part of his body wants to shut down and melt into his bed, wait for his body to rot, and flowers to grow from his bones. 

There’s a steady stream of ringing in his ears, all Peter wants to do is scream, yell until his throat is raw.

But he knows he can’t, because May is down the hall, sleeping peacefully. She’s been doing well for so long, and she doesn’t need Peter’s meltdowns ruining her improvement. He just knows it. She’s gotten better each day.

But all of Peter’s have been tainted with the memory of holding Ben’s dying body, feeling his last breath rattling in his arms. Seeing the blood seep into his clothing, stick underneath his fingernails.

Sometimes he can still feel it, on his hands, and he’ll stand over the bathroom sink at Midtown, just scrubbing, never really feeling clean.

He doesn’t feel like he’s living anymore, just barely participating in his reality, and watching everybody move on.

Peter’s not anyone anymore. He’s just Peter Parker. He blends into walls, disappears in crowds. Fades into the background of his own life. He’s no one special, and he isn’t helping anyone anymore, he can’t.

Because Mr. Stark came down and took part in him. Stripped him of his only protection against himself. 

He can’t spend his nights out on the streets, instead, he spends them in his sheets, dealing with the abundance of thoughts straining against his skull. He hasn’t felt this empty since Ben passed.

But even then Peter was still someone, Peter was still Spiderman. 

But now who is he?

He feels naked and overexposed, with no real sense of identity. He was Spiderman. He had helped Tony Stark. But in the end what had he really done, besides help tear the Avengers apart?

He looks out to the skyline from his window, his vision bleary from the tears crowding his waterline. Peter feels the breeze brush over his face, he drags a hand across it, attempting to wipe away his crying.

He inches a shaky hand forward, gently lifting the window from the sill, only emitting a slight creak, but not loud enough for May to hear. 

His mind drifts somewhere else when he climbs the fire escape. Like he’s just watching himself, having no say in his body’s actions.

As he stands on the ledge of his building, he feels an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. The thoughts in his head have died down, an almost Pavlovian response to being on top of buildings, and feeling the wind whistle and blow around his body.

He looks down on the smaller buildings in the surrounding areas, the streets are almost barren of life, now and then he’ll see a stray figure or a couple of cars meander down the empty streets.

Peter always swings up when he drops, or someone else is there to catch him. Mr. Stark doesn’t care anymore, Peter is no one to him, he failed, and Tony Stark isn’t there to save him when he falls anymore.

He’s been accustomed to the feeling of soaring through the air, almost flying, never falling.

Peter wonders what it’s like to fall. To watch the world wash away, as he falls.

Never coming back up.

[birdycurtains]

What about Tony being an old school horror director who feels like he’s about to be upstaged by Peter, a new horror director - think Blumhouse - and Tony, never having met him, both hates and fears him, until he bumps into him at a movie theater and hit it off until Peter introduces himself -des

this inspired me beyond belief, i have no idea why. i don’t think this was the direction you intended, but once i started i couldn’t stop haha. - birdy

He Calls Him Anthony

wordcount: 2,357

Friday nights were sacred. They were nights centered around going to see old movies at the IFC, and there was never to be a schedule conflict. Because that was one of the three nights he was awarded for seeing his daughter a week. 

And he would die before he didn’t take Morgan to see a truly good movie every Friday night. 

This night was Sunset Boulevard, he did always enjoy a good Wilder film, as did Morgan. Her twelve year-old self had mastered the art of the Norma Desmond gaze.

But here was Peter Fucking Parker, waltzing out of a showing down the hall. 

Morgan blearily leant into her dad's side as he attempted to speedily walk out of Parker’s field of vision.

It wasn’t that he hated Peter Parker, well maybe he did just a little. 

He was once that fresh face on the scene, basking in the limelight, being the true face of modern horror. 

But now his takes weren’t exactly fresh, and what the younger audiences were looking for. They wanted a twisted gore, with just this side of odd comic relief, that Parker had perfected while Pepper was serving Tony divorce papers.

So maybe he was envious, maybe he was just tired of everytime he attended a premier, or so much as breathed in the direction of the media, he was hounded with questions of what exactly did he think about Peter Parker?

In the beginning, he didn’t care or think much. But as trailer after trailer was put out, the movies being produced at a rapid rate while maintaining or increasing their following, even Morgan was asking her father if they could rent this, or if they could go to the cinema to see that.

And maybe he caved once, and with a hoodie, and sunglasses, a hat. For good measure of course. He went and saw one. With Morgan, because she insisted, and who was he to deprive her. 

It was good. And he resented Peter Parker for the same craft he held a torch for.

So here was Peter Parker, coming out of Casablanca. And making a bee-line towards him. 

“Mr Stark! Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark?”

God damn it. 

Tony willed his body to face the younger man. Morgan follows in suit, her eyes widening in realization, and proceeding to prod her elbow directly into her father’s side.

“Mr. Parker, well, nice to see you.” 

Tony could play nice, put on his ‘customer service’ voice, and act chummy with Peter Parker.

Although, the in-person Parker didn’t exactly match what he imagined.

This one wore thread-bare jeans, and converse that had seen better days, three years ago. 

He didn’t match the one he had seen plastered over last month's vanity fair, the pictures that had circulated his time-line a little more than his liking. 

They ran in the same circles, it wasn’t like he was actively looking for him.

“Gosh, Mr. Stark, it’s an honor to meet you really. Please, call me Peter.”

He was like a chihuahua that took a five-hour-energy-shot. 

His handshake was firm, and he slipped his glasses back up his nose as he collected himself. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought I had seen you here before, I come here all the time y’know, every time they have a Rocky Horror showing, I’ve got tickets.” 

It was easy to catch that he was a New York native, unlike Tony himself. His Queens drawl interweaving between vowels and catching on to his r’s. It was rather cute, and personable. 

Did he just- Tony called him cute. Christ.

“My daughter and I like the classics.” He put simply smoothing down Morgan’s unruly strands. 

“Yeah, me too. I’m usually knee deep in everything going on right now, that to just enjoy the good ol’ stuff-”

He gave a dramatic sigh of pleasure, Tony felt his ears turn red.

 “That’s everything man. You would know of course. God, of course you know-  I mean”

The younger man cut himself short as he realized he was gripping Tony’s shoulder, his face and neck flushing red.

“I’m sorry- I’m probably taking up your family time. But, we should totally get together. Like talk shop or whatever?”

Peter flashed him the brightest smile, he swore the dim hallway was a little brighter.

“Yeah.”

The man was gone with a friendly wave as he jogged back to a small group of people, probably his friends, towards the exit.

Tony looked down at the ground and focused on his hand that hung limply by his side. On it was a chicken scratch phone number. 

Peter had written down his phone number. On Tony’s hand. 

And he hadn’t even noticed.

~

A few days later, Tony decides to grow a pair. He types the number into his phone, makes an individual contact for a Mr. Peter Parker.

He never thought this day would come. And he’s not sure the exact connotation behind that thought.

Does he call? Does he text?

In all honesty it has been a minute since he attempted friendship, or even communication outside of his usual social circle. 

Things had never been like this when he and Rhodey had initially become friends. Even the rest of his band of misfits had just happened naturally, never really taking this much preamble communication.

He texts.

~

They decide to meet at a small cafe around the NYU campus. Peter had said the place was quiet and usually uncrowded, one of his favorites.

Going against his gut, he trusts Peter and agrees.

Now here he is, looking presentable for the public eye, it’s a Monday. He’s just dropped off Morgan at school, and here he is. At another school.

“Anthony!”

He winces just the slightest, and is met with the vision that is Peter Parker at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. For someone so heavily criticized and praised in the public-eye, appearances must be everything on some level for the man. He doesn’t exactly aim to disappoint.

He looks so effortlessly cozy, dolled up in his black turtleneck and rust orange suede jacket, and those same glasses from the week prior perched against his brow bone. His hair looks soft, and his eyes are warm.

“Mr. Parker.”

That’s good. Set some boundaries, before you directly tell him he looks soft.

“I told you.” Peter sighs wistfully, wrapping his hands around a deep mug of hot chocolate? 

He looks up again with the same kindness and warmth.

 “Call me Peter.”

~

He invited him to dinner.

He doesn’t exactly know how it happened. It was somewhere between talking about how Peter had wound up picking up where his uncle left off, and how working as a barista in the cafe they were sitting in was Peter’s favorite job during college.

He could imagine a littler Peter, running around behind the counter making drinks and warming up scones. His open textbook to the left of the register, just like he described.

It made a fluttering in his chest somewhere, to know a personal and small detail of the Peter Parker. 

Not in a, I’m a huge fan of the Peter Parker.

But, in a, this kind young man, I am having the privilege of getting to know, kind of way.

The point is he invited him to dinner, at this high-end steak house he’s familiar with. A reservation for eight. 

It’s eight forty-five, and he’s on his second glass of red wine, Peter’s on his third.

Things are comfortably warm, they’re talking about Tony’s first movie, and how much of a shitshow it was, but the critics loved it.

The steak is amazing, they order dessert.

And he doesn’t budge or comment when Peter hooks his foot around his own. He only smiles softly, and watches Peter’s curious eyes watch as he brings a piece of poached pear to his mouth.

He hails Peter a cab at the end of the night, and Peter thanks him for dinner.

He calls him Anthony, once again.

~

Peter calls him this time.

It’s in the late hours of the night, and Tony, never really one for sleeping through the night anyway, has a lapful of script he’s reviewing, making sure it fits his artistic vision and what-not.

His voice is rough around the edges, a haze of sleep almost.

Tony wonders what it sounds like in person. If he were in bed next to him, or with him. Maybe with a lapful of Peter Parker, and not dialogue bleeding into his iris’.

He invites Tony over for Thursday night.

Peter knows the custodial schedule. That should mean something right?

He texts him an address later in the day. It’s in the Upper East Side, not too far from him, it’s in a cozy neighborhood of brownstones. 

Very Peter Parker.

~

Tony, will never understand Rocky Horror.

Peter had invited him when he arrived a little late, just five minutes, but he could see the worry drip off his shoulders as he greeted him at the door.

His home was a beautiful thing, filled to the brim with the most eclectic vintage interior, but it somehow matched.

He had learned from their meeting at the cafe, that Peter’s aunt owned a store that specialized in all things vintage and antique. It hadn’t surprised him to see it rubbed off on him.

In the downstairs parlor, it was decorated with dozens of Peter’s movie posters. Some were beta’s that Peter and an artist had worked on together. Peter flushed when he caught him staring. 

Tony would never get used to the fact that this Peter Parker was shy and not open about his work in his personal life, he liked to keep things very separate. 

He watched him put together a heaping bowl of kettle corn and followed him up a winding staircase, Peter remarked it was his favorite thing about the house.

He told him they were watching Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

Tony had never seen it in his entire life, he knew the cult following it had, but he couldn’t piece together that this is something Peter loved so much, but was so different from the direction he took with his work. 

He only smiled and agreed and saddled up with Peter on the pink floral couch. 

They’d never done this before, but it felt so familiar, like they had been through this scenario a dozen times, and it was just natural to lean into each other and fumble for the sugary popcorn between them.

It was around the scene when Frank N Furter was doing the backstroke with the rest of the cast in the swimming pool, that Tony realized their closeness.

How he had his arm wrapped around Peter, and Peter had just melted into his side.

The younger man must’ve felt the pressure of Tony’s gaze burning into the side of his face, since he turned his head to face him. 

It was all very cliche in this sense. 

A romantic scene directed and scripted and cast.

Except the love interests were him and Peter.

Peter kissed him first. That’s all he can clearly recall, the seconds prior being a blur of ‘is this actually happening’ to ‘it’s actually happening, do something’.

Finally the cognitive gears in his brain rekindle their function, and his lips are moving against Peter’s. He’s so warm and soft, he tastes like cinnamon sugar. 

Peter’s hands are grounding against his chest, holding him to reality, in any other case he would’ve drifted off somewhere because he has to be dreaming.

But this is real. And Peter’s real.

And, oh no. 

Tony gently pulls away from Peter’s grasp, and takes a breath. And Peter’s got this smile on his face like he won the grand prize at a carnival game.

“Peter- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. This is not going to happen.”

The smile falls faster on Peter’s face than the pit in his stomach.

There’s something hurt and cold in his eyes. The warmth is gone, and the guilt gnaws at Tony as he flees the Parker residence. 

~

It’s been two weeks since the Rocky Horror incident. 

Peter’s texted, and called. He believes he’s got Anthony all figured out. 

To be truthful he does. 

He had called Anthony out on his behavior six days ago, and hasn’t sent another message since.

Peter left a voicemail stating that Anthony wasn’t going to let himself enjoy something without finding an excuse for why he can’t. Peter wants this, and Anthony wants this, then that is all that matters. He is going to be filming at this location for the next two weeks, he can make his peace by showing up or not.

Tony stared at the message for ten minutes before Morgan told him to go get Peter.

She knew.

She always knows.

~

When Tony saw Peter again he was rushing past people ushering him to stop.

But Tony was on a mission, he felt like one of his main characters in the final leg of the movie, finally making it out alive, and this was the final call, where he would live to the credits, or the antagonist would leave no survivors. 

Peter was beautiful.

Even if he did look like Prom Queen Carrie at the moment. 

His hands and clothes were covered in fake blood, helping arrange the set to a T.

When Peter looked up at him, he knew he would make it to the credits.

His boy ran at him and swallowed him in his warmth. 

It was a pining, longing, and apologetic kiss, with bloody hands cradling Tony’s face.

“You’re dumb, and you hurt my feelings Anthony.” Peter whispered as he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry.” He replies, his eyes watery, insecurity wrung out like a rag, he wanted Peter and Peter wanted him. He chanted it a million times into the crook of Peter’s neck, just holding him. 

Peter pulled away and held him by his shoulders “It’s okay Anthony.”

He smiled that big beautiful warm smile of his, and pushed him away.

“Now. Get off my set. I’ll see you at nine, bring Morgan, they’re playing Psycho tonight.”