#no seriously maybe we should kill a few billionaires

[tyrantchimera]

The more we sit passive, the more they kill because they have no consequences.

SHOW THEM CONSEQUENCES.

i feel like the boeing whistleblower case should radicalize more people. a major airline company is producing planes with less and less regard for safety and it's starting to get noticeable. man takes them to court, which would reduce profit at the cost of public safety. he fucking dies the night that boeings legal team asks him to stay an extra day. if nothing happens about this, i hope it gets through to people that america would literally kill you for a few extra cents

[bellarkeselection]

Tony stark x reader

Reader is having anxiety after her crush won't message her all day til later Tony gets upset and the team has to tell reader he has feelings for her and he hates how she's being treated

Thor's Gossiping Mouth Helped This Time

Laying on the long couch in the Stark tower living room i had been staring at my phone for who knows how many hours. I had recently went on a date with my current crush and he said he would text me later...except it's been almost two weeks and I have gotten no response. I normally didn't get this worried about relationships since I was an Avenger and had really no time for one. But the waiting is killing me right now.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep staring at that phone?' Lifting my head up I saw Tony enter the room in a stained work shirt since he had been down in his lab working on his suits.

Laying my phone in my lap I sniped at him. "I just thought he would have messaged me back already. I thought the date had went so well."

"I don’t see the need for that tiny magical device when you have someone in front of you that care for you, Lady Y/n." Thor came from the kitchen with a big sandwich in his hands.

Tony whipped his head around at the God. "Nobody asked you, Lord Shakespeare!"

"I am not this Shakespeare you speak of. My name is Thor and I didn't need your permission to speak when I can tell that you have feelings for Lady Y/n." Thor points his freehand in my direction on the couch.

I was only half paying attention to the bickering going on between the two grown adult men. Holding the phone in my hands I couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that were being to form in my mind. I had decided that it was time I tried my hand at getting a boyfriend. I loved being an Avenger but I wanted a life away from the superhero life even if it was only for a few hours. "Why weren't you text back, Dustin?" I mumbled under my breath seeing the time on my phone read 11:58pm, two minutes till midnight. Meaning I had been waiting by the phone all dang day and....absolutely nothing.

"Shakespeare wrote plays and poetry. Seriously what did they teach you on whatever planet you came from?" Tony covered his face with his hands.

Thor had nearly finished the whole footlong sub in a matter of seconds talking with his mouth full but Tony still heard what he had said. "If Shakespeare was this great writer. Maybe you should see if he can give you some tips to get over your fears and just tell Lady Y/n how madly in love with her you are."

"Frustrating god man." Tony stomped, brushing past him and left around the corner.

I locked my phone screen hearing the bedroom door slammed behind him. Getting to my feet I sat my phone on the table following after the billionaire and man who declared he was Iron Man to the whole world. Standing outside his bedroom door I paused before pushing it opened seeing him laying on the bed facing the window. Crossing the room I sit down touching his shoulder. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Thor needs to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't have the right to tell how I feel about you." He grumbled under his breath clearly annoyed.

I slowly pushed him onto his back so he was looking at me instead of the wall. "And how do you feel about me, Stark?" I needed to know what was going through his head. He normally just said whatever he was thinking but now he was holding back from me. Which I didn't care for...I thought we were closer than that. Unless my feelings towards him were wrong.

"It doesn’t matter Y/n. You're already dating that uh...Dustin guy. I've lost my chances." The billionaire covered his face with his hands trying to hide.

Removing his hands from his face I shook my head retracting what he believed. "Tony, I am not dating anyone. Dustin and I went on one date and clearly he doesn't feel the same way since he hasn't messaged me in over a week. So I say hell to him cause I only care about you...I always have."

"You're not joking, Y/n. Because if you are I will make Dum-E kick you out of my house right now." Tony sat up on the pillows behind his head hands in his lap.

Rather than answer him verbally I leaned forward pressing my lips onto his. He pauses briefly before he released what was happening and he kissed back. Tony wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me against his chest and my fingers threaded themselves into his black locks. O moaned into the kiss when one of his hands ran through my hair making it a mess until we needed air. "I think that proves I'm not joking quite good don’t you think?"

"I might need some more convincing just to be sure. You know preforming issues and all." He chuckled drawing me in for another deep kiss. Wrapping my arms around his neck we fell backwards onto the pillows. Rest assured Tony wasn't angry over Thor's big mouth anymore.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[wack-ashimself]

Since I can not legally say 'in a free country' the words "I want to kill the USA president*" I will say this:

I hope every billionaire dies. And I don't care: I hope it's a drawn out (but not long), excruciating, impossible to cure, they are immobile AND incapable of communicating, death. LET THEM GOD DAMN SUFFER 10000x over what they have done to humanity. Maybe for their next couple lifetimes till the lesson sticks.

I hope every person who took or is taking bribes a billionaire dies. Legal or not (cuz it isn't moral any time). Same way they did.

I hope everyone who supports billionaires dies. Quickly. Idiots don't deserve to suffer.

Because I, myself, and millions of others are probably gonna starve to death due to billionaires. So if I die, I want ALLLLLL THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS TO DIE WITH ME.

So I heard they were requiring work requirements for food stamps. NOW. RIGHT NOW. During one of the largest unemployment times in ALL USA HISTORY, AND during what is now called the 'silent depression' which has been PROVEN WORSE than the great depression!

WHICH IS INSANE.

I have never in my life thought 'we should make the poorest most vulnerable PROVE they are poor, and EARN their FEW benefits.' NEVER ONCE. And I have had some dark, cruel, sick thoughts thru my life. BUT NEVER THAT.

Maybe cuz I grew up poor. Maybe cuz I had poor friends. Or maybe we are born on a shared planet, AND OWE NO ONE FOR THAT. NO ONE. Not a single god damn person owns this planet but we pay rent to them, cuz we were CONNED into believing it.

Anyways, they require EIGHTY HOURS A MONTH. Or you're disqualified**.

And either you have to have a job job (that, btw, YOU CAN NEVER QUIT. Seriously. It says that! You have to have a GREAT reason for leaving. FORCED LABOR. AND you can NEVER volunteer to take less than 30 hours a week if you got more than that. WTF?!)

You can VOLUNTEER for FREE work. So in other words, DO NOT GET PAID, but, get enough money in a month from food stamps for about....3 weeks. I have NEVER ONCE in my life had food stamps last the whole month. Not even when I was in CA 10 years ago. Indentured servitude, anyone?

OR you can do work training programs thru the state, to teach you USELESS SKILLS that fucking high school should have taught you. Again, UNPAID.

So 2 of the ways they want you to work is to work for free, never getting beyond just to QUALIFY getting enough food from food stamps for a couple weeks. GENIUS! <fucking morons>

But 80 hours. Mandatory. Every single month. (Btw, isn't that cutting into the BEST times of the days for me to apply for and interview for jobs? IDIOTS!)

Hey-I don't mind applying for jobs, interviews, and telling you all about them. I got tons of proof I am trying to get into the work force. I am trying to make an effort. I like security, go figure.

But I have been unemployed OVER TWO YEARS. Only THREE INTERVIEWS in those 2 years. NO JOB OFFER YET. Closest I got was a job interview requiring a covid jab, and there's no god damn way in hell you're forcing me to do something to my body in order for a job. FUCK OFF. MY BODY, MY RULES. Other they wanted me to sign an arbitration agreement, which ALWAYS FUCKS THE EMPLOYEE. It is NEVER to your advantage; they were created so LEGALLY you can't sue your employer. THAT IS IT. Seriously; look into it.

I would already be DEAD, not exaggerating, if not for the food stamp program I have right now.

So now I have to apply for ANY job, take ANY job, and have to stay there till I die or I won't get food? Never moving up? Never earning more money (cuz the second I do, I LOSE food stamps, costing me even more money?)

Even if I am mistreated to the point I am suicidal?

I genuinely would rather die than enable this evil abusive system. Sincerely.

But I'm not going to do so without a fight. And maybe taking out a billionaire or so with me. Cuz it doesn't matter how much power, protection, and secrecy they have. With enough time, thought, and planning, one bullet isn't that hard to meet it's target. Ha....and if you're smart enough, it's food poisoning anyways. They're SO fucking arrogant, they forget who makes their food and does all their work for them. <And if they get paranoid enough, they'll just quit eating and starve to death, like me.> ;)

They're pushing me to the edge, and I swear, I don't push back. I bring them down the cliff with me...if only so they can't do it to another.

So let's do this. Let's see who blinks. I have NOTHING to lose; you have EVERYTHING to lose, rich bitches.

*I promise, like they want to make homelessness illegal, and they made that solider who lit himself on fire an 'enemy' cuz he believed in anarchy (which SIMPLY means NO RULERS), they will start arresting anyone anti state. Which is ironic: if I was in jail, I'd be promised more food and shelter security, FOR FREE, paid for by the taxpayers (and costing them SUBSTANTIALLY more), than if I remained in my current situation. Oh, and don't forget, largest for profit prison population used as SLAVES. So they gain 2 ways: state pays them to imprison them THEN they get to use them as cheap labor. THIS IS AN EVIL GOD DAMN SYSTEM.

**Again, if I just went out, and knocked up ANY random woman, and she gave birth, I would be promised food stamps, no work, instantly. Love that catch. Bring a child into the world you can't afford, and we'll feed YOU. But if not, starve to death if you can't find work***. Every single thing is broken.

***This just made me realize...if you were working even...70 hours a month, they would require you to volunteer for another 10 to get food stamps. What if the volunteer work only occurs the same hours you're at your job? Jesus fuck, did NO ONE think this thru in ANY way!? It always fucking gets worse...

<Do you think even a billionaire does 80 hours a month in work? FUCK NO. But we BAIL THEM OUT every god damn time.>

[from-a-reckless-writer]

dove down my rabbit hole of wips and one of my wips isnt a wip anymore! so here, have some gay shit....

“Kelly wants to get married in the woods, I want to get married in Midvale. So, apparently, our wedding will just happen via Zoom. Her in the woods, me at the beach. Ain’t that just fucking grand?”

Alex comes through the door like a hurricane covered in leather. Her helmet lands on Kara’s counter loudly. Her keys haphazardly thrown somewhere in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Then have two weddings.”

Alex follows the voice and her eyes zero in on her sister’s best friend.

Lena is sitting on the floor of Kara’s apartment, wearing an oversized sweater. Her dark hair spilling down her shoulders softly. A hand wrapping around a wine glass, the other typing on her laptop, not even jumping in the slightest at the commotion that is Alex’s entrance.

Alex plops down on the couch sighing loudly, not even batting an eye at this utterly domestic scene that is her sister washing the dishes with Lena Luthor on the floor of her apartment.

Lena doesn’t comment at the Danvers’ Sisters antics and Alex doesn’t call them out on the ridiculousness that Lena and Kara are still keen on keeping up.

The three of them already well desensitized to one another’s preferred brand of bullshitery.

“You know, sometimes I forget you're a rich-ass bitch and then you say shit like that and suddenly, I remember,” Alex says, smoothly snatching the wine from Lena’s hand.

She finishes the entire glass in one gulp and Lena rolls her eyes. Alex had finally proposed to Kelly the other week and well, that meant this week all of them had fallen victim to the Olsen-Danvers wedding debacle. It seems today isn’t the day that that whole dilemma is going to stop.

The wedding, of course, was still a few months away, but both parties were stressing about it as if it was going to happen immediately the next day.

Kara swoops in then, mussing up Alex’s hair, earning her an annoyed Hey stop it! before putting down another wine glass and pouring for Lena. Her arms are still wet from washing the dishes.

Lena murmurs her thanks and continues what she was saying, “Well, since you’ve finally remembered that I’m a billionaire. Let me pay for two weddings.”

Alex chokes on the wine.

“What? You’re kidding me, right?”

Lena continues typing, ignoring Alex’s shock, you’d think she didn’t just offer to pay for a wedding.

“Well, I mean, I’m never gonna get married,” Lena explains, “but if you let me do this, I can brag around that I’ve paid for two weddings. Not to mention I’m gonna make two brides very, very happy.”

“Or,” Kara interjects, lowering herself on the opposite side of the couch, perfect for Lena to lean back between Kara’s legs and lay her head on the side of her thigh. “You can just wait for Kelly to get here,” Kara says, pointedly. “Talk it out like normal adults and reach a compromise.”

Kara’s hands start to snake their way from Lena’s hair to Lena’s shoulders, massaging, all too aware that Lena won’t stop whatever it is she’s working on on her laptop till everybody gets here.

Lena lets herself melt and closes her eyes, sighing as Kara’s fingers dip at the junction of her neck and shoulder with just the right amount of pressure.

“I don’t wanna get married in the woods, Kara.”

Lena opens one eye to take a peek at Alex, who looks exasperated, her eyes pleading, gulping down another glass of wine.

“Don’t tell me,” Kara replies. “Tell Kelly.”

“The bugs, Kara,” Alex moans. “Imagine the bugs, and the moss and the ughhh.”

She dramatically thumps the back of her head on the couch.

“Imagine the soil. Clumpy wet soil. Eurgh. Ew. What if I fall face first in that? What if I trip over a stupid tree root in my heels? In my wedding dress?!”

“Alex, you don’t even have a dress yet,” Kara deadpans.

“I thought you were gonna wear a suit,” Lena adds.

“You two suck.” Alex pouts.

****

The rest of their friends arrive and Kara finally succeeds in prying Lena’s work laptop away from her. Alex was already teasing the line from tipsy to drunk by the time Kelly comes through the door.

“Let’s get married in Vegas!!!!” Is how Alex decides to greet her fiance.

Kelly laughs, gives her a peck then answers, “As much as that sounds like a very convenient wedding, I don’t think Eliza would appreciate that, baby.”

Alex frowns at being rejected, sags against the couch and crosses her arms. Why does Kelly always have to be right?

“How much has she had to drink?” Kelly turns to Kara.

“Uhh ask Lena. She made her switch to whiskey.”

Lena—who Kelly thinks was way too busy nuzzling against Kara’s neck to even answer her question—mumbles something that sounds like “S’was just two glasses.”

Kelly just shakes her head, makes Alex drink a glass of water. Her ring making a clink against the glass.

“Alright, what if,” Nia sing-songs, eyes sparkling with mischief, “we just settle this whole wedding thing with Charades?”

Nia claps her hands together like some gameshow host and Kelly takes a deep breath through the nose.

She’s been to enough Game Nights to know where this is headed.

Everybody else was intoxicated enough to accept the suggestion as a grand idea, not at all even thinking that: Hey, isn’t this something we should all take seriously?? Maybe ask the brides what they want, maybe???

Kara nods enthusiastically, agreeing immediately, “Oh!! That’s a great idea! Fun and fair at the same time!”

“Olsen vs. Danvers. Brides get to pick their teams.”

Nia pulls a white board out of nowhere, uncaps a marker and writes “Team Danvers”, “Team Olsen” separated by a neat line in the middle.

“Are we really letting Nia take charge of our wedding venue?" She hears Alex whisper from where she has her tucked at the crook of her neck.

Kelly sneaks a glance at the chaos happening before their eyes; Brainy already claiming to be on Kelly’s team, J’onn shaking his head opting to be the game scorer instead and refusing to participate, somebody’s shouting about: NIA, DREAM PROJECTIONS AT CHARADES IS CHEATING!!!!

Guess this is their life now.

Kelly smirks, boops Alex on the nose and says, “Scared you’ll lose, Danvers?”

****

Alex loses by three points.

“How was I supposed to know you were gesturing 'Transformers'!?!” She barks at Kara, throwing her hands in exasperation.

“I pointed at Nia!” Kara huffs, incredulous at the fact that her sister is blaming her.

Nia lost them a point too!

“What does Nia even have to do with it???” Alex’s voice grows higher in pitch. Her brows furrow in a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Trans, Alex. Trans.”

“Oh my God,” Alex groans. “How are you this dumb?”

And that was the story of how Kelly got her dream wedding.

****

The frenzy finally dies down, some time between Nia making up another drinking game and J’onn making her sit back down. A movie that none of them were watching provides a background noise to the almost lazy atmosphere. Kelly and Alex were pressed close on the far end of the couch, enjoying the temporary quiet.

“Guess we’re getting married in the woods, huh?” Alex murmurs.

“I guess we are,” Kelly whispers back. Alex beams at her, grinning dopily at the thought of finally getting the ending they deserve. It would be the perfect day, she has no doubt about that. No matter where they are. It would be perfect because they got there together.

Alex can’t wait.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.”

Alex continues to smile stupidly, nudges her nose to Kelly’s.

“Just— I don’t really care where we get married, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Kelly raises an amused brow at her.

“Mm-hm. So long as you’re the one walking down the aisle.”

Alex presses their lips together, breathes Kelly in deep and for the first time that night, she feels that the future isn’t so scary, even though there is still a very large possibility that she might trip over a tree root on her wedding day.

Somebody interrupts their kiss.

“She’s only saying that ‘cos she lost.”

“Shut up, Luthor.”

****

“Text me when you get home!”

Lena hears Kara call loudly after her sister, before closing the door. Game Night has officially ended and as usual she’s still here. She’ll always be here, she thinks for a brief moment. The thought holding more depth than it should.

Kara didn’t even question her when everybody began filing out and Lena just started picking up the discarded dirty plates and walking them to the sink. They’re well past the point of asking each other if the other would stay over.

It was already some unspoken rule.

Already well past the point of Lena wanting to ask Kara what the hell it is they’re doing.

She’s bent over the sink, scrubbing—Kara doesn’t own a dishwasher for the sole reason that she finds doing the dishes therapeutic—when Lena takes a glance over her shoulder.

Kara is sitting on a high stool near the counter, casually flicking through her phone. It was Lena’s turn to do the dishes tonight. Once upon a time her doing the dishes would have resulted in a fight. “I can superspeed the dishes. Why would you even want to do them?” A statement that would be met with an eye roll.

Kara has learned not to fight her on it again, after around the 7th time that Lena had stubbornly insisted and Supergirl got doused with dishwashing liquid.

And now, it’s become some sort of routine, Kara does the dishes after lunch and Lena does the dishes after dinner. Oh, how the paparazzi would kill for this—Lena Luthor Knows What A Sponge Is?

“Is it true when you told Alex you’re never going to get married?”

Kara decides to break their quiet.

“Yeah, pretty certain about that one, why?” Lena turns around, cocks a curious brow. If she’s being honest she’s beyond certain that she’s not going to get married. She always jokes about how she’s married to L-Corp but it isn’t till now that she realizes how true that is, and...how lonely.

“I don’t know,” Kara murmurs, not meeting Lena’s eyes. “I just like the idea of you getting married, I guess.”

“What?” Lena chuckles at that; genuinely confused but still curious.

“Well, I mean—” Kara wobbles through her words.

“I guess, I just— I like the idea of you walking down the aisle...in a white dress,” Kara muses.

Then, “Or a suit!!” she quickly amends. “If you wanna wear a suit, that is. That can totally be arranged, you know?” Kara waves her hand around and it’s like now that she’s started, she can’t stop.

And Lena’s just standing there, water still dripping from her elbow, unsure of how to feel about Kara imagining her getting married. Quite an incredulous scene isn’t it? Her getting married? What a crazy thing to say, an even crazier scenario to imagine!

She snaps out of it, realizing Kara’s still rambling.

“I have no objections whatsoever with that, if you wanna wear a suit. And yeah, you know? I just— I like that idea. I like the idea of you dancing to your wedding song. The idea of you exchanging your vows, the idea of you-”

“Kara,” Lena decides to put a stop to it, since it’s clearly evident Kara won’t be stopping any time soon. And Lena's feeling way too many things that she doesn’t want to feel at the moment. She’s sure that she’s going to feel more, if she doesn’t put a stop to it herself.

“I’m well aware that it’s the best friend’s job to help with the bride’s wedding,” She says, “but, darling don’t you think you’re putting just a bit too much effort into this? Certainly seems like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

At that, Kara’s cheeks turn a light pink, squirming sheepishly under Lena’s questioning gaze.

Shouldn’t Kara be thinking about her own wedding? How beautiful she would look walking down the aisle. How her blonde hair would look so nicely with her dress. How happy she would finally be after finding someone she could share her life with. Not that Lena's been thinking about those kinds of things. No, of course not. That’d be hypocritical of her at this point. Why would she even— Why were they even talking about this again???

Lena tries to rein in it, tries to focus on Kara again; hands finally finding a dry towel, hesitantly walking into Kara��s space to hear the blonde more clearly.

“Well, I mean- Like I said, I do really like the idea of you getting married,” Kara repeats herself slowly.

And before Lena can come any closer, “Like the idea of you getting married…to me. More specifically,” Kara adds more quietly.

“What?”

Lena stands frozen.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard y- Kara, did you just?”

Lena’s heart is pounding away in her chest. Did she hear her right? Did Kara really just—

Lena’s a step away from her and Kara uses this to her advantage. She pulls Lena closer, tugging at her wrist, the towel dropping from Lena’s hands. Kara summons enough willpower to stare into Lena’s eyes.

“I like the idea of you getting married to me, Lena Luthor.”

“Kara, I’m sorry- What?” Lena jerks away from her, the words finally landing.

“Is that a no?”

Kara lets her go. She can’t focus on Lena’s heartbeat to assess the situation more. Kara’s own heart is betraying her, drumming so loudly in her ears.

“Uh- no, that's definitely not a no?” says Lena hesitantly, eyes wide, breathing nervously. She turns away from Kara for a minute to take a breath, hands fidgeting about.

She whirls around again to face, mutters, “You do realize marriages are for people who are—”

She pauses.

How do you exactly phrase that wedding proposals are for people who are actually in some kind of romantic relationship? And not for people who casually stay over every goddamn Thursday without fail?And okay, maybe sometimes, in a much different reality, would willingly commit fratricide to save the other? And in an also much different reality, willingly expose a secret identity to save the other?

Lena can’t find the right words.

“Oh, I don’t know, Kara,” Lena scoffs, shaking her head disbelievingly. “Marriage is for people who are actually dating each other.”

Kara takes her sarcasm as a good sign and pulls her in again.

“Well,” Kara begins. She can hear Lena’s heart thumping erratically, now that Kara’s gotten her bearings.

“We can always have our first date after the wedding, right?”

Aren’t they well past the point of dating anyway?

She’s got Lena standing between her legs now, her hands wrapping around her waist.

“First date and honeymoon all in one. That sounds great, doesn’t it? I can fly you wherever you want, Paris, Maldives, hell I even have a Fortress in the Arctic, if you’re into that.”

Lena stares at her, blinks once, twice; shakes her head and lets out a noise between a laugh and a scoff.

“Kara Zor-El, you are one ridiculous woman,” She breathes, putting a hand on Kara’s cheek. Because what else is there to say? This whole conversation really is ridiculous. But at the same time Lena feels like she’s floating? Like this may be the best moment of her life, and of course, it’s going to be ridiculous. This is Kara she’s dealing with, after all.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if Kara reveals this to be just some sort of joke.

But the way her blue eyes are piercing through Lena’s, so earnest and so warm, argues otherwise.

“So, what do you say? Wanna get married?”

“Are you serious right now?” Lena asks, still unbelieving. This is beyond crazy. They’ve fought aliens and monsters and traveled through time but this? This is just beyond crazy.

“Lena, do I look like I’m joking? And besides, you’d already offered to pay for two weddings, why not pay for our two weddings, instead?”

She shakes her head again, let’s herself fall closer to Kara, lets out a laugh against her neck.

“Mm. You want a Kryptonian ceremony too?”

“Yeah.” Kara’s voice turns shy. “If that’s alright by you.”

“Of course, that’s alright by me. I’d be honored.”

Her heart feels more than full at the thought of Kara wanting to share that part of her with Lena. She’s always had some doubts whenever the topic of Kara’s Kryptonian heritage arises, always half-afraid she’s overstepped on something that isn’t hers.

But looks like there was nothing to fear all along.

“So, we’re getting married, huh?” Kara wiggles her brows, her face breaking into a wide grin.

“Yes. Mm-hm,” Lena hums against her. “I do. I’d marry you. Let’s get married.”

“Seal it with a kiss?"

****

“Hi.”

Lena blearily opens her eyes, follows the soft voice, her bare back being caressed by the sun filtering through Kara’s curtains.

“Hi,” She whispers back. All this feels much too like a fever dream. She’s half-tempted to pinch herself just to check. She’s woken up beside Kara a million times before but she’ll never get used to the sight of soft golden hair and sleepy blue eyes.

Kara gives her a soft peck and the feel of her lips sends Lena reeling.

The previous night was a whirlwind in her mind’s eye. The moment Lena murmured her 'Yes, please.', Kara kissed her passionately. Once they broke away, Kara had zipped around the apartment, Lena too dazed to even ask what it was Kara was looking for.

She watched as Kara tore off a keychain from one of her bags, curled the keyring to fit Lena’s finger and whispered, “This’ll do. For now.”

Kara had kissed her knuckles reverently, her lips making Lena’s blood sing in her veins. The feel of mangled metal fitted just for her left hand is an imprint on her soul. A promise of more to come.

They didn’t make it out of the kitchen the first time. Kara had lifted her by the waist and set her down on the kitchen counter. Which was a good thing, because Lena couldn’t feel her legs after.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom the second time either. She had tackled Kara onto the couch, pinning her wrists together, licking at the shell of Kara’s ear. “My turn now,” Lena had whispered. The way Kara shivered underneath her was enough of a reward. How long had they been waiting for this?

Flashes of last night had her hips bucking slightly unto Kara’s leg sandwiched between her own, but before it could escalate further...

“I have exciting news to share,” Kara tells her.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Kara hums, now nosing at Lena’s hair.

“What is it?” Lena asks.

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh you are?” Lena plays along.

“Yes. I’m getting married to my best friend,” whispers Kara, almost conspiratorially. “How cool is that?”

Kara looks giddy with excitement and Lena knows she’s mirroring that exact same expression right now.

“Mm. Very cool, darling.”

Kara giggles and they trade more lazy kisses before Lena breaks away to breathe.

“Quite a coincidence though,” Lena husks out against Kara’s lips.

“Oh really? Why?” Kara asks, tries to keep a serious neutral face despite her nose scrunching up in that cute smile that Lena can’t resist

“I’m also getting married,” Lena confides, “To my best friend," she adds, eyes flashing. "Isn’t that great?”

“Very great.” Kara nods slowly, blonde hair falling into her face, a hand running through dark tresses.

“I love you,” Lena whispers, her lips brushing Kara’s softly.

“I love you, too.” Kara kisses her harder then, her hands lazily wandering along Lena’s skin.

They lie there quietly for a few moments, basking in the morning glow and then, “Alex will kill us.”

Lena snorts, twists in the sheets and says, “I think your sister is too busy planning her wedding to even think about plotting our murder.”

read follow-up here.

[coffee-and-quill]

Birthday Wishes Pt. 2

Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you

Authors Note: It took a long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Relationships are hard, they are constant work and give/take. It takes communication and understanding for all parties to feel heard and loved. I hope y’all enjoy, and please let me know if there’s anything else you would like to see from me!

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It had been three weeks since Steve had seen you, talked to you, held you in his arms. Three weeks of radio silence, and it was killing him. He and Bucky had gone to your parent’s house the morning after they discovered you were missing. As if they weren’t feeling awful enough, the icy look your mother had given them so different from the warm, caring smile they were used to, sent shockwaves through their chests. Steve had begged to talk to you, but your mother had told them that you had left early that morning. You were going somewhere they couldn’t find you or bother you. When Bucky had tried to get more information, she had slammed the door in their faces.

              It took two more days of searching and desperation to figure out that Tony had helped you go completely off grid. “It’s not my place to tell you where she is, you shouldn’t have fucked up this bad,” the billionaire had told them when they tried to force your location out of him. He wasn’t wrong, and that set a heavy weight on their chests like nothing they had never felt before.

              Steve tried to go back to work, but every time he tried to buckle down and focus, or to accept a mission, he thought of your face. What if you wanted to talk to them? What if you came back and he was so caught up in his work again that he lost you for good? He might have already lost you, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees gasping for breath. He felt small, smaller than he’d ever felt in his life. He would take being a sickly, scrawny kid in the 40s over these feelings any day. It got to the point where Fury told him to go home and not come back until his head was in the game again. “At this rate,” the director had grumbled, “You’re likely to get yourself or someone else seriously hurt if you continue as you are.” Steve didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped home, collapsed on the couch, and sobbed. Pain and heartbreak were the only things he knew anymore.

              Bucky was no better. After the acceptance that there was no finding you until you wanted to be found, the former assassin completely shut down. He barely ate and never slept anymore. How could he when there was the constant reminder that you were no longer in his life, no longer snuggled safely between Steve and him. The nightmares came back full force. He had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Now, instead of visuals of Hydra and the chair, and the blood and death that followed him like a storm, he had nightmare of you telling him you were done with him. You told him with a stone face that you’d never loved him, that you could never love a murderer, and you left with him begging and screaming on the floor. During the day he stayed in bed. He felt useless and weak, so, so weak. He was used to suffering, used to the constant weight of guilt on his chest. But this, this feeling, this guilt was far worse. People are constantly telling him that his actions as the Winter Soldier were not his fault, but this was all on him. There was no scapegoat, no evil organizations pulling the strings, no excuses, no one else to blame but himself. He was the reason you were gone, and it was destroying him.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                Three weeks, and you were feeling like absolute shit. You barely slept, ate only what you could unwrap in seconds, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t showered in at least a week. You couldn’t tell what day it was; time seemed to slip and slide together in a meaningless fuzz in your mind. Most days found you on the small couch of the cabin Tony had so graciously offered you, the TV on a low hum in the background playing some sort of celebrity reality program. Not that you really cared. Nothing really held your interest for long anyway. Your thoughts were stuck back in your apartment with your boys. You kept replaying the better times over and over, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

Back when you first got together, Steve and Bucky had been so sweet, so shy when bringing up the idea, so afraid that you would turn them away and they would lose the best thing that had happened to them since they were reunited. When you told them you wanted to give it a try, they had been ecstatic. Their excitement was infectious, buzzing around you like two overenergized puppies who had just been given the best treats of their lives. Those first few months had been blissful, none of you willing to be parted from the other longer than a day or so. You went on dates, ate crappy Chinese food together, snuggled up to each other on the cold nights.

You were crying again thinking about those times. You missed being with your boys more than ever, missed the connection and the feeling of safety and security. You missed the two people who knew you better than you could ever know yourself. You had been stuck on a loop for the past three weeks. Where did it go wrong? When did it happen and how did you not notice? Was it you? God, if you could only talk to them. You had so many questions, so many concerns. Mostly, however, you just wanted a hug. You just wanted to be held between your Stevie and your Bucky and you wanted to feel loved.

It had been around midday, after shoving down a lukewarm hot pocket, that you heard the front door of the cabin click open.

“Damn,” came the snarky voice of Tony Stark, “You look worse than I did after that one Easter party I threw.” Even through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was your own fault, Stark,” you sassed, “Who the hell takes that many tequila shots at a brunch party?”

The billionaire scoffed. “Obviously you have no sense of danger, babe.” You flipped him the finger. “So,” he said, lifting your feet up so he could make himself comfortable on the cushy couch, “It’s obvious to me and to literally everyone else that something went on between you and the two super stooges back home. And by the way they have been moping around the tower and by the grease buildup in Barnes’ hair, they are fairing about as well as you.”

Your ears perked up at the information. You should feel satisfied that Steve and Bucky were feeling miserable for what they did. You should feel relieved that they are getting a taste of what they put you through. Instead, you just felt your heart sink into your stomach. No matter how angry you were at them, you could never stand the thought of them in pain.

“I’m not saying the two don’t deserve it,” Tony continued, “I’m just saying that if your going to make them suffer, at least do it in a way that you aren’t suffering as well.”

“I don’t want to make them suffer,” came you soft reply.

“No?”

“I was hurt.” The tears that had been gathering in your eye dripped down your face at your watery tone. “I was hurt, and angry, and I just felt like I had to run to escape those feelings, so I came here. But the longer I stayed, the less hurt and angry I felt. And then the sadness and loneliness came and I felt like I was drowning, and all I wanted was to be back with them. But I had already stayed away for so long. What if they don’t want me anymore? Or they think we can fix things? What if they realize they aren’t willing to try, Tony? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a huge breath. “I can’t answer those questions for you, sweetheart. Lord knows if I could take the pain away, I would. But nothing is going to happen with you sitting here and refusing to talk to them.” You nodded, knowing that what he was saying was logical. You couldn’t solve anything by sitting around and moping, and lord knows you won’t solve anything by running away.

You took a deep breath “Ok. I’m ready to come home.”

“Good.” Tony stood up and adjusted his suit. “Because honestly, the boys have start loitering outside my lab looking like a couple of drowned kittens, and it’s depressing everyone.” He held out his hand for you, which you graciously took, standing and hissing out your cramped muscles. Tony took one step towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back. “Maybe you should shower first. You stink like that casserole Clint tried to make for dinner that one time.”

Tony barely dodged the chipped mug thrown at his head.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                When you showed up to the apartment you shared with Bucky and Steve, your nerves had been on fire. Steve had opened the door looking he hadn’t slept since you had seen him last. His eyes widened and his arms twitched towards you instinctively, wanting to wrap you in in them and never let go. He held himself back, though it left a deep ache in his chest to do so. You wanted nothing more to go to him, to card you fingers through his hair and reassure him that everything was fine, that you were here and you would never leave again. You had to clutch the straps of your bag until your knuckles were white to stop yourself.

              “We need to talk.” Your voice was small, fragile. You wanted to run and hide all over again, but you knew this needed to be done. Steve nodded jerkily, widening the door to allow you to enter. Visually, everything looked the same; the couch was in the living room, blankets thrown haphazardly across the back, and the table sat in the kitchen with its three mismatched chairs and well-loved surface. However, as you moved further into the space, you noticed a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t a home anymore, and the thought made you frown deeply.

              Steve closed the door softly behind you. “I’ll go get Bucky,” he murmured, and you shivered. God help you, you were so in love with these men. Even tired and beat down, Steve’s voice still had an effect on you. It reminded you of soft kisses over bare skin in the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake, of tender love and honey sweet words spoken between breathy moans.

              You pushed the memory to the back of your mind as Steve reentered, Bucky following close behind. You felt your breath catch at his appearance. He looked broken. Dark circles fell under lightless eyes, the grief and despair that sat heavy on his shoulders was visible in the hunch he wore, as if he was being physically crushed by its weight. You could have honestly cried if it were a different situation.

              At the sight of you standing in the living room, he cracked a smile that looked almost painful. “Hey, Doll. I missed you,” he rasped. Hi voice was scratchy and rough from crying. Despite the somber tension that hung in the room like mist, you felt a sense of peace wash over you at the presence of your boys. Despite your nerves, despite your fears and reservations, you smiled at them. The tension melted from Bucky and Steve’s shoulders, and you knew everything would be okay. You could do this.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                The three of you spent hours talking. You told them everything: your fear of being left behind and forgotten, your frustrations with always feeling second place to the duties as avengers, the anger of that night and the emotions of the last three weeks. In turn, they shared their guilt and frustration at their own actions. They told you how they felt that being avengers was the only thing they could do to help people, it was the only thing they knew, and they had been scared to deviate from that routine, even when it had started pushing you away. They shared the fear they felt at finding you gone, and the terror and grief that had set in when they realized you might not come back and that was it for the three of you. Finally, they shared their confession that nothing they had done or would ever do as avengers would be more important than you. They wanted to change, to get better. They wanted to do it for you.

              What started as you sitting across from them quickly transitioned into the three of you cuddled together on the couch, seemingly one entity. Weeks of no contact had starved the boys of your touch, and they couldn’t remove themselves from you if they wanted to. Bucky lay across you legs with his head in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You hand was tangled in his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Your other hand was gripped tightly in Steve’s as you leaned back into his broad chest. His blond head rested comfortably on your shoulder, turned inward to whisper his apologies into the exposed skin of your neck. Every once and a while he would leave a lingering kiss there, the skin tingling nonstop from the feel of his lips. You felt more relaxed than you had in weeks. That night you fell asleep in your bed, bracketed by the two most important people in your life. You would be okay.

[moontheoretist]

Second Look at She-Hulk

Why 2nd episode is shorter than the first one? I really don’t like how they keep shrinking the episodes of She-Hulk, while other Marvel shows had episodes that lasted over 45 minutes, sometimes lasting a whole fucking hour. What the fuck is happening? Who was cutting this story into parts? I want answers! GIVE ME ANSWERS DISNEY!

Jen says a few things that I was angry about (Why every female superhero is a derivative of an existing male one?) and some that fandom was asking before (Do Avengers get paid, or they can only function as privately funded by billionaire vigilante team?).

She was also fired for being a Hulk, because she saved lives, but sacked the case she would otherwise win with that action.

Bruce calls her Fuzzball. That is so cute.

Oh, no. That is so fucking unfair. She Hulked up to save life once, and suddenly nobody wants to hire her anymore. Matt Murdock is the lucky one. Clear distinction between your normal and hero life keeps you in your job, even if you have your own private law firm.

Ok... they have a whole point about a family member telling Jen that she can make her pretty curly hair more like "She-Hulk's" so it was INTENTIONAL for She-Hulk to have straight hair, so then her family member could be crap about her natural beautiful curls? What? Or what? Why is she talking about chunky highlights and lowlights?

Ok... they made her being a Big And Green Lawyer in Court a requirement of her new job? Instead of something she decided for herself? I was seriously thinking she was gonna make her own Law firm instead of wait for someone to hire her. That it was the direction.

A guy at work just gave Jen a map to the "best bathroom for popping". America is really not ok. You are all doomed, seriously.

ARE THEY FOR REAL? THEY WANT JEN TO FIGHT FOR PAROLE FOR EMIL BLONSKY? The guy who in the 2008 movie wanted to turn into a monster after he became enhanced similar to Steve Rogers and then went to destroy Harlem and possibly kill people to draw out the Hulk simply because he wanted "some challenge"? ARE THEY FOR REAL? (Did I say already how much I hate that movie?).

We are told that she has a choice, but she truly doesn’t have a choice. If she doesn’t take his case, she will have no work. Simple. You cannot choose if you are faced with being unemployed with a student loan as a second option. I would even say that this counts as coercion. Didn’t they send her a contract to read? Why they told her only now that she has to be She-Hulk at work and has to take Blonky’s case? That seems like breaking some rules in regard to hiring people. Or maybe this is a standard practice in America?

We are seeing the evil side of being a lawyer once again. Being forced to fight for people that did horrible things. I know that American prison system is fucked, and they don't believe in resocialization like Europe does, but damn, this is what Foggy and Marci hated to do. Fighting for a cause that was morally perturbing. Yeah, high-security prisons like RAFT or DODC facility are breaking human rights, so villains should not be kept there, simply because those facilities treat them like monsters instead of a people that can come back to society as better people and not commit the crimes again. If the show wanted to explore that, this would be an angle I would be interested in to see, but Emil is just not a good person. I don't believe they want to show us that American prison system is fucked, so even villains deserve parole to avoid the inhuman treatment. I believe that they want Jen to represent a guy that didn't change and will never do, and would do the exact same shit if he knew he could get away with it.

Yeah, technically the serum could be blamed. I predicted they will go with this angle, but seriously. He was not a good guy before that, too.

Emil Blonsky has 7 pen pal soulmates that he wants to elope with? In America? I thought USA doesn't condone polyamory or polygamous relationships in marriage... did the law change in MCU or what?

HOW DOES BRUCE HAVE PHONE SIGNAL IN A BLOODY SPACE?!

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

As it turned out, Tony did make great pancakes. Peter woke up the next day to the smell of them, and shyly headed in the general direction it was coming from, until he reached the kitchen. Tony was standing there, wearing impeccable gray dress pants, a crisp white shirt and a green tie, as he added batter to a frying pan. Peter supposed that was what heaven would look like when he died.

“Oh, hey, kitten, you’re up.” He grinned at him, who smiled in return, nodding. He had put his clothes from the night before back on, and he was glad he did, because Tony was dressed to the nines and it would have been awkward if he had shown up in just his boxers or something. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thanks.” And it was surprisingly true. Peter hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in a while, he supposed he missed sleeping next to someone. He did share a bed with Beck for two years, so it felt awfully lonely to sleep by himself. “Are you headed to work?” He asked as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island and Tony nodded guiltily, fixing two plates of pancakes.

“I’m so sorry, I tried to make arrangements to get the morning off, but duty calls.” To his credit, he did look genuinely sorry, so Peter thought maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of him. Maybe.

“It’s okay, I have to be home soon, or my friends will worry.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but not exactly a lie either. They wouldn’t notice he was gone until lunchtime, since they both had work or class in the morning, but when they did notice, they would freak out.

“I thought you lived by yourself?” Tony sounded interested as he sat beside him by the kitchen counter and pushed a plate his way. Peter thanked him, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pancake.

“I do, but we live in the same building, so we’re always checking in on each other.” Tony hummed, nodding, and they were silent for a little while, until the older man spoke up again.

“Can I ask about your relatives?” He felt his eyes on him and knew that, much like the night before, he was testing the waters, making sure Peter was comfortable with that subject.

“Sure. I don’t have any, though. I’m an orphan, I’ve lived in foster homes for most of my life.” Peter didn’t really mind talking about that period – it was basically all he knew. He was too little when his parents died and was only ten when Ben and May passed away, so the foster homes were where he made most of his memories.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Tony winced, maybe thinking he had touched a sensitive subject after all, but Peter smiled and shrugged.

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. My friends are like family to me now, so I’m good.”

“I’m glad you have them.” Again, he gave him that genuine smile that made Peter believe he was actually glad to hear that. Like he actually cared. “So… Can I see you again? Or was this just a one time thing?” The older man turned his body to face Peter, who froze for a second with the mug held to his lips, mid-sip.

“Oh, uhm…” Peter almost chocked on the coffee, not quite believing his ears. He honestly thought that the older man would slowly disappear from his life. Or maybe not even that slowly. Peter figured he had gotten what he wanted, so why would he stick around? “I mean, sure. If you want.” He said, like an idiot, and Tony raised a brow.

“I really do, but I don’t mean to pressure you, so if you want to say no and just go back to what we had, that’s okay. Or not even that, if you prefer. Just say the word and I’ll get out of your hair.” He sounded honest enough, but Peter quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

“No, it’s okay, I definitely wanna do this again.” He assured him, and Tony seemed satisfied with his answer, expression softening as he nodded.

After breakfast, the older man insisted on driving him home and when they arrived at his building, he felt a little awkward as to how to say goodbye, but Tony made it easier by simply leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, one hand stroking his knee in a gentle caress.

“I’ll call you later, kitten.” He promised and Peter just sighed quietly, feeling dizzy.

He was a little out of it for the rest of the day, both Ned and MJ asked what was wrong with him in separate occasions, but he just said he was tired from his new routine. They had dinner together and when he went back to his apartment that night, he was just mildly surprised that he actually got a call from Tony. It was an innocent, sweet phone call, too. He did not expect that, to be honest, they had been sexting for two months and they had actual sex the previous night, so he kind of expected Tony to just go for it.

But no.

He asked about his day, about his friends, he told him about his own day, then somehow they ended up talking a little bit about Peter’s childhood, his parents, aunt May and Uncle Ben, it was just a really nice chat, which he appreciated. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking dirty to Tony, but the fact that he called just to have a normal conversation with no second intentions was, well. Nice.

He didn’t really know where they were going with that, probably nowhere, really, Peter was an ex-porn star, Tony was an A-list celebrity, a billionaire and a fucking Avenger, so there was literally zero chance they could evolve to something else. They would probably just go out a few more times, have mind-blowing awesome sex, and then go their separate ways. And Peter was okay with that.

It was fine. Really. It was just fine.

And it was for the best, otherwise how would he explain to Ned and MJ that he was dating Tony Fucking Stark? It would be a nightmare. MJ would kill him and lecture him on how big corporations like Stark Industries were destroying their way of life and Ned would pass out – and possibly die – so, yeah. It was a good thing they had no real future together.  

That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted, though. Tony was really nice, a true gentleman, a good conversationalist, a great kisser and an amazing lay. So whatever he could get out of those moments they had together, he would. Everything was perfectly fine and under control. And did he mention fine?

The next morning, he woke up early and went for a jog around the block. He had been experimenting with different types of workout routines, but he thought he might stick with jogging and yoga for a while, he was even looking for a yoga studio close to his building so he could start training more seriously. When he got back, he took a long shower, made breakfast and spent a few hours answering people on Just4Fans, then posted a few pictures there, linked it to his twitter account and let people know on Instagram.

Tony texted him mid-morning and Peter blushed like a teenager when he read his message.

“Just saw the new pics, you look stunning as always, baby, but I have to admit I’m spoiled now, pictures are not enough. Can’t wait to see you again. Dinner tomorrow?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, sir, keep it coming.” He smiled to himself and bit his lower lip, excited by the prospect of seeing Tony again so soon. “Tomorrow sounds great, where are we going? Should I start stressing about the dress code?”

“I was thinking you could come over. Did I mention that I’m a great cook? Pancakes aren’t my only specialty.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach. It was stupid, of course, but he just found it endearing that Tony wanted to cook for him.

“I’d love to. I’m curious about your cooking, your pancakes did taste fantastic.” Just the thought of that morning and, more importantly, the night before that, made his mind wander, as a quiet sigh left his lips.

“Prepare to be blown away.”

“You’re so humble, I love that about you.” The young man smiled to himself.

“Thank you, kitten, it’s one of my many qualities.” Peter laughed at his antics.

They settled on a time and Tony insisted on picking him up, even though it was obviously inconvenient since they were having dinner at his place, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so Peter gave in. They talked a little more, but soon Tony had to go back to work and now that the younger man knew exactly who he was, he imagined it was a lot of work.

He went on with his Saturday – in the afternoon, he took a few pictures and videos with different sets of lingerie he bought with MJ when they went to Victoria’s Secret, and that should be enough to last him at least a few days. At dinnertime, he went down to his friends’ apartment, as usual, and they were both home.

“What’s up, nerd,” MJ greeted from the couch, but didn’t raise her eyes from her phone.

“Hey, Pete, dinner is almost ready,” Ned called from the kitchen island.

“Want me to set the table?” He walked over to where Ned was fishing a plate out of the microwave.

“Sure.”

Peter knew his way around the kitchen, so he got to work, placing the plates and cutlery on the small, square table by the counter.

“Hey, are you up for a Star Trek marathon tomorrow night? I don’t have any classes next Monday morning, we can stay up late.”

“Oh, uhm. I –“ Fuck, he hadn’t really thought of an excuse for why he wouldn’t be having dinner with them. “I can’t, because…” He noticed that MJ had finally raised her eyes from her phone, only to stare at him suspiciously. “I have this thing, uhm, on my Just4Fans… Tomorrow night.”

“Can’t you just schedule the posts?” MJ asked from the couch, because of-fucking-course she knew about that.

“Uhm, yeah, I can, but – uhm. It’s a live stream. I’m live streaming tomorrow for the first time. It’s good for tips and stuff, so. Yeah. I’ve already let everybody know, I can’t cancel.” He gave them an apologetic smile, trying to look convincing, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a nervous wreck.

“Oh. Ok, then.” Ned shrugged and didn’t seem bothered at all, but MJ kept staring at him from the couch, like she could smell his bullshit from a mile away. She didn’t say anything, though, for which he was grateful.

The next morning, he woke up early and decided to skip his usual jog around the block and just did a short yoga session in his living room, warmed by the morning sun that flooded his apartment at that time. He had lunch with his friends and spent the afternoon with them, but left early with the excuse that he had to get ready for his “live stream”.

When the older man texted to say he was waiting outside, Peter was already showered and dressed and skipped downstairs two steps at a time. He didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to a billionaire’s house, but he decided casual was probably fine, so he put on a pair of light blue jeans and a light pink, thin sweater.

Tony was driving a low-profile, black SUV and he got out of the car when Peter stepped outside the building. He had a baseball cap and tinted glasses on, dark blue jeans, a Metallica t-shirt and sneakers, and if Peter didn’t know it was him, he would never have thought that was actually Tony Stark.

“Hey, gorgeous, looking good.” Tony didn’t think twice before reaching out to pull him closer by the hips, stealing a chaste kiss from his lips. Peter blushed and completely forgot he should be worried that Ned or MJ might see them if they came downstairs for something, or even if they looked out the living room window. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“Thanks, but you should get your eyes checked.” He joked as he let go, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, I think so too, I think constantly staring at such beauty is taking a toll on my eyesight, I’m an old man, after all.” Tony pulled him by the chin and stole yet another kiss. When he pulled away,  Peter shook his head and laughed.

“Oh my God. Seriously, do you practice these lines in the mirror or something?” He had a feeling that if it was anyone else saying half the things Tony said to him daily, he would find it corny and possibly annoying, but somehow the older man made everything sound charming, sweet, sexy, endearing – hell, everything at once. And he always knew what to say to make Peter’s knees go weak, it was unnerving sometimes.

“No, you just inspire me daily, baby.” He gave him a charming smile, as he opened the door and gestured for Peter to get in the car.

The ride to Tony’s place was filled with the sound of the older man humming along to the music playing. Peter didn’t recognize any of the songs, it was a classic rock playlist, but then he heard a familiar beat and thought it was a great opportunity to stick his foot so deep inside his mouth he almost choked.

“I love Led Zeppelin!” He didn’t exactly love Led Zeppelin and he was quite sure he had just heard a cover of that song, not the original version, but he thought he’d sound cool if he said that. When he looked over, though, Tony was laughing his head off. Peter blushed a deep crimson, eyes widening as he realized he must have said something incredibly dumb.

“Oh, you’re not joking.” Finally seeming to realize that the younger man wasn’t laughing along with him, Tony turned down the volume, as they approached Stark Tower’s garage entrance. “That’s Back in Black by AC/DC, kitten. But hey, I love Zeppelin, too, who doesn’t?” He smiled warmly, looking at him sideways, and Peter nodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.” Fuck his life. Of course he had to make a complete fool of himself right at the beginning of the night. He wanted to jump out the window from embarrassment, but it would only add to his humiliation, since Tony had already parked and got out of the car.

The older man opened the door for him and Peter avoided eyes contact, as he led him to the elevator. He could still feel his cheeks burning on the ride up, his head was starting to hurt from shame. Was that a thing?

“Hey, don’t be like this.” Tony pulled him into a loose hug, kissing his temple with a soft smile on his lips. “It was an honest mistake. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to identify whatever it is you kids listen to these days.”

It was oddly comforting to hear that. Even though he knew Tony wasn’t trying to be mean to him back in the car, it was hard not to feel attacked in situations like that. Beck always tried to make him feel dumb, inferior and juvenile whenever he got the chance.

So he rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and nodded slowly. He was going to say something like “don’t worry, I’m fine” but it got lost somewhere in the back of his throat when the older man held him a little tighter and stroked his hair.

The whole interaction lasted merely a few seconds, soon the elevator doors opened to the familiar sight of Tony’s living room, looking just as impeccable as it did a couple of nights earlier. The older man gestured for Peter to lead the way and he did, paying closer attention to the details, since he was a little too nervous to do it the last time he was there.

What he realized when he took a look around, was that the penthouse didn’t look lived in at all. It was all glass and metal, shiny floors and sophisticated furniture, black and gray decoration – it looked ready to be featured in one of those shows that listed the most beautiful houses in the world, but it didn’t look like a place he would like to go back to at the end of the day.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” Peter asked, as Tony led them in the direction he remembered the kitchen and the dining room were.

“That obvious, huh?” The older man winced and Peter flushed, realizing he might have been a little rude in his observation. “But yeah, when I’m home, I spend most of my time down in the workshop.”

“Ah, the famous workshop. I suppose if I were to visit right now there would be pictures of me hanging on every wall?” He joked, remembering that Tony had once told him that he would hang his pictures in the workshop and never get any work done.

“I mean, not every wall…” He turned to him and winked, leaving the younger man a little unsure if he meant it or if he was just messing around. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the man’s sarcastic sense of humor. “I’ll give you a tour after dinner.” He promised, when they finally reached the dining room.

The table was set in a simple manner, for what Peter was glad, it made him feel more comfortable and at ease. Tony pulled out a chair for him then headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the dining room only by a long, wide counter, where the had breakfast the other day.

The man came back with wine, pouring two glasses for them, then he started placing the dishes on the table. There was mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and roast chicken, and the smell was to die for, Peter’s stomach rumbled and he wasn’t even that hungry.  

“Voilà. This was my favorite meal as a kid, my grandma used to make this for me all the time when I spent summers with her.” He took a seat across from Peter, looking at him expectantly. The younger man found his enthusiasm amusing, so he fixed a plate under Tony’s eager supervision. “Tell me what you think. But be nice, I haven’t cooked this in a while, it might be a little dry.”

Peter took a bite of the chicken first, and it took him a few moments to feel the explosion of flavors on his tongue. The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, and the seasoning tasted inexplicably like home – it didn’t taste like something he could order at a restaurant, let alone a frozen meal he could buy at the supermarket. He then tried the mashed potatoes along with the grilled veggies and almost cried.

“Tony, this is so good, have you considered dropping everything and starting a restaurant?” he gushed, taking another bite of the chicken only to confirm that, yes, that was probably what paradise tasted like.

“Don’t exaggerate. I already like you plenty, kitten, you don’t need to flatter my cooking skills.” Tony smiled, shaking his head lightly, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he might think he was blushing.

“I’m not, this is seriously the best homemade meal I’ve ever eaten,” he insisted and Tony cocked his head to the side, with a confused smile and a frown

“What the hell have they been feeding you, kid?” He asked and Peter chuckled.

“Well, I spent most of my life in foster care and I was never lucky enough to end up in a family that liked to cook.” The families he stayed with weren’t bad – not compared to some of the horror stories he heard from other foster kids he met in the past – they just weren’t good. They provided him with the bare minimum for survival, so water and enough food to avoid starvation. “And uncle Ben and aunt May, dude… They couldn’t cook for shit.” He laughed, remembering Aunt May’s date loaf, which was probably the worst thing he had ever tasted in his life.

“Well, now I feel obligated to feed you properly,” Tony announced, and Peter quickly shook his head, feeling his face grow red for the hundredth time that night.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, I wasn’t–”

“I want to, if I’m your only source of good, homemade food, then I’m taking this seriously, kitten.” He pointed a fork at him as he spoke. “And you can help me cook, what do you say? That way I can teach you a thing or two so you won’t starve to death.” Again, the idea that Tony wanted to cook for him was too sweet. He was an incredibly busy guy who probably didn’t even cook for himself, but he was willing to waste that kind of time on Peter. It just–

“Sounds amazing.” He smiled, nodding, and the older man’s face softened when their eyes met.  

“Good.” He took a sip of wine and topped off both of their glasses. “Did you tell your friends you were coming here today?” That seemed like a polite way to ask if they knew about him, and Peter wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting.

“No, they think I’m home.” He watched the man’s face, waiting for his reaction, but there was none, so Peter felt like he should explain himself further. “After my ex – they’re just a little too overprotective, so, you know. I just don’t want them to worry.” Tony raised his eyebrows and Peter’s eyes widened, realizing what that might have sounded like. “Not that I think you’re my – that we’re – I mean, I’m not assuming anything, I just meant –“

“Hey, it’s okay, I know what you mean.” He reached across the table to squeeze one of his shaking hands. “Your friends sound like good people, by the way. You’re lucky to have them.”

“Thanks.” Tony smoothly changed the subject and started talking about his summers with his grandmother and how she taught him everything he knew about cooking. He said that was the reason why his repertoire consisted only of comfort food and Peter thought that was the sweetest thing he had learned about him so far.

Once dinner was done with, Tony kept his promise and gave him a tour. The place looked like a labyrinth made of glass and steel, there were five floors, several rooms with various purposes, but everything seemed sterile and impersonal, like nobody ever stepped foot in any of those places, which somehow made them look lifeless and even a little scary – like a ghost town of sorts. Peter couldn’t help but think that his tiny, mostly empty apartment felt more like a home than all five floors of Tony’s.

Well, all except for one.

“And this is the workshop,” Tony declared with a flourish when the glass doors slid open, revealing a wide, open space filled with worktables, holographic screens, robots, cars, Iron Man suits, and so many other things he had never seen before in his life. “Sorry about the mess.” He didn’t sound sorry, though, he sounded happy and proud, and Peter thought it was the only place in the penthouse that felt weirdly cozy and homey. To his relief – and secret disappointment –, there were no pictures of him in lingerie hanging on the walls.

“This is amazing…” Peter breathed out, realizing that that was Tony’s actual home. There was even a kitchenette in a corner, and next to it there was a small, cozy couch in front of a reasonably sized TV and a fluffy rug. He supposed Tony took naps there, too, because there was also a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

He walked over there, followed closely by the older man, and took a seat, sinking into the soft pillows.  

“I think this is my favorite room.” He blinked up at Tony, who regarded him silently for a few moments, and Peter started to think he had fucked up again. “What?” He whispered, but his answer came in the form of a kiss. He immediately melted into it, all worries flying out the window as he opened his mouth to taste him better.

Tony pushed him gently until he was lying on the couch with his larger body on top of him, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

It was a tight fit, but they made it work, as pieces of clothes were thrown to a pile on the floor; as skin met skin and made the room feel unbearably hot; as hands explored and mouths danced together and teeth left secret claiming marks on eager necks; as he felt, once again, full and sate and whole, and then spent and lax and dazed in the best of ways.

Suddenly, what had been frantic and passionate became slow and soft, what had been loud and messy became quiet and wholesome.  

The room was silent then, as their bodies slowly cooled down. Tony was lying on his back on the couch and Peter was lying on top of him, chests flush together, breathing in and out in sync. He felt a blanket being draped over his shoulders and he all but melted into the body underneath him.

“Can I ask you a question?” He whispered quietly into Tony’s neck, after several minutes, not sure if the older man had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and constant.

“Baby, you could ask me anything right now, there’s no way I’d say no to you.” He answered right away and Peter giggled, pushing himself up on Tony’s chest to look down at him.

“Why did you want to meet me? For real?” Tony, whose eyes had been closed until that moment, opened them to gaze at him. He was quiet for a while, as one of his hands found the small of Peter’s back under the blanket and started rubbing circles on his skin.

“I liked talking to you.” He answered quietly, eyes locked on his. At first, Peter thought that was all the answer he was getting, and he would have been fine with that, but Tony kept talking. “You made me feel alive again.” His heart raced and his breath hitched in shock. He blinked down at the older man, who raised his free hand to tuck some of Peter’s curls behind his ear. “You see, things were… rough. After Thanos.” He remembered the funny story Tony told him in the restaurant a few nights earlier and was surprised to see such grief in the man’s eyes. “I had these nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Couldn’t sleep most nights.”

Peter reached out and ran a finger across the man’s forehead, trying to smooth down the frown that had formed there. Tony smiled, grabbing that hand to give it a little kiss.

“Pepper wanted me to give up the suit for good, said it was killing me and she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen. On top of that, my relationship with some of the Avengers was strained, to say the least. I thought retiring from the Avengers would be enough to solve most of my problems, but I was wrong and everything just kind of snowballed from there. So what I mean to say is that by the time I met you, I was… Fucking exhausted.”

“Tony...” He frowned, heart clenching, because he could hear the pain in the man’s voice and how much he meant every word and it was devastating.  

“I looked forward to talking to you every night, you know. Still do. I don’t why you got under my skin like that, but you did. So when I said I needed to meet you, I meant I needed to meet you.” He smiled and Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The whole confession was almost too much to handle, too much to believe. At the same time, he knew what Tony meant because he had also been in a very dark place when they met and, somehow, talking to him brought some light back into his life. “My turn?”

“Sure.” Peter smiled, entwining his fingers on Tony’s chest and resting his chin on top of them, looking at the older man’s face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I have a feeling this might be a bit of a touchy subject for you.” He cautioned, and Peter gulped. He knew what was coming and he thought about not answering, but Tony had been honest with him, so he took a deep breath and nodded.

“O-okay.”

“How did you end up doing porn? Not that it’s bad or anything, you just sounded so uncomfortable the other night... Like you’re ashamed of it, or regretful.” Tony asked carefully, one of his hands was still rubbing soothing circles on the skin of his back.

“Hm… Well. It’s complicated. I guess the short answer is: I was young and dumb and my older boyfriend convinced me it was a good idea. Then he left me and took all the money and everything we’ve ever built with him and – and now the only thing I know how to do is porn, so… Yeah.” It was a very short version of what happened, but very accurate as well. Tony frowned, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean he took everything?”

“He told me to pack a bag and leave. Whatever I couldn’t fit in my bag stayed behind, as well as the social media accounts, the channel, the money… He locked me out of everything.” Peter’s voice grew weaker as he spoke, because he felt so fucking ashamed. Of everything. Of admitting he let a man like Quentin into his life, that he made so many terrible decisions just so he could stay with him, only to be treated like that in the end. It was fucking humiliating.

Tony sat up in a haste, forcing him to do the same, until they were both facing each other on the couch. The older man’s eyes were wide, he looked so shocked it was almost funny. Almost.

“Peter, that’s – why – wait, and what do you mean he convinced you to do porn? Is it not something that you want to do?” Peter dropped his gaze for a second, not really sure what the true answer to that question was. If he was honest with himself, most times he just avoided thinking too much about what he was doing.  

“Well… I don’t hate it anymore, I guess,” he settled on that, after a few minutes of silence. “Sometimes I even enjoy it now, like… Like when we talk,” he mumbled the last part, raising his eyes again to look into Tony’s warm ones, and the older man looked back at him with – what? Worry? Regret? Guilt?

“So you hated it? Before?” He insisted, and Peter knew he could still choose not to answer if he wanted to, Tony wouldn’t force it out of him, but still – Peter wanted to tell him. He wanted Tony to know.

To know him. All of him. Even the parts that hurt.

“I did.” He whispered, holding back the tears that filled his eyes when the confession left his lips, because that was something that he never wanted to acknowledge. It took all he had to hold Tony’s gaze and not look away in shame. “I just felt… kinda shitty sometimes. Like… I wasn’t even human, just an object to be used and abused and disposed of.” He continued, swallowing a lump in his throat. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, but his eyes were gentle as always, there was no judgment there. “I didn’t feel like my body belonged to me anymore.” Saying that aloud came almost as a surprise to Peter himself. He always tried so hard not to think about those feelings he almost believed they didn’t really exist, even though they were always there at the back of his mind.

“Pete...” Tony cupped his face in both of his hands, he looked so torn, it almost made Peter regret telling him.

“I’m doing okay now, I promise. I’m in control of my body, my choices, my money. I’m fine now, really,” he vowed and Tony pulled his head closer and pressed their lips together – it wasn’t even a kiss, just a caress.

“I can help you.” He offered with determination, holding his face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes and they were burning with anger, but Peter knew it wasn’t directed to him. “I can help you get everything back, I can make his life a living hell for doing that to you, I can –“

“Please, don’t,” He winced, shaking his head firmly, lifting his hands to hold Tony’s wrists, feeling his pulse and how fast his heart was beating. “Okay? It’s in the past. It’s over now. I don’t want to – relive it, I just want to forget.” His heart raced when the older man closed his eyes and started shaking his head. “Tony?”

“Peter, you can’t ask me to –“

“I am asking you leave it alone.” He insisted, a little desperately, but Tony’s face was locked in a frown and panic started creeping up on him. He couldn’t bear to think about confronting Beck, having to see him again, maybe talk to him again, he just wanted to move on, to forget he ever existed. His eyes burned and he closed them, trying to get his breath under control, but he could feel his hands shaking. “Please, please, don’t make me –“

“Hey, no, no, no.” Tony gathered him in his arms, rubbing his shoulders in a soothing way. “I’m sorry, no, I would never force you to do anything, okay? It’s your choice.” He cupped his face in his hands again, peppering kisses on his cheeks and forehead. Peter started calming down slowly, and even laughed a little when the man’s beard tickled his nose. “You know that I see you, right? And I mean I see you, Peter Parker, not the persona in the videos or the pictures, and you sure seem pretty fucking human to me, kid. You know that, right?” Tony kept holding his head in between his hands, forcing Peter to look back at him, which wasn’t necessary, he couldn’t look away if he tried.

He smiled, nodding slowly, leaning in to kiss his lips. The older man lay back down, pulling him along, until they were back to their original position. He rested his head on Tony’s chest and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

He felt Tony wrap his arms around his waist, holding him tight, and he thought to himself that if heaven looked like Tony making breakfast in the morning and tasted like his cooking in the evening, it certainly felt like holding him at night.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker

Sorry for the long chapter, guys, it really got away from me 🥴 Only four more chapters to goo ✨✨

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation Series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 

~Feyre~

I spend three days figuring out what to do with the phone number. 

On Day 1, I decided I’d text, not call. It was the cowardly thing to do, but the thought of him answering the phone and putting me on the spot made me want to run and hide. 

Day 2 had been plain ole procrastination. I’d gone to the museum on the hope he’d be there, but like he’d said, that really was a horrible way of communicating.

Day 3, I decided, was the day of reckoning. I’d text him today. 

Shit, did billionaires even text? 

Maybe I should send a properly-formatted memo instead. 

And what should I even write? Hey seemed too casual. Hi, maybe? How’s your day going? Wanna make out? 

Gods, I’m bad at this.

After another two hours of staring at a blank screen, I send: Dinner tonight?

Then, because I realize I’m a fucking idiot: It’s Feyre, btw.

I throw my phone across the room in embarrassment, and put my head in my hands like that’ll unsend the message, then jump the couch like a hurdle when I hear a ding. 

And promptly frown when I read: If you’re going to ask me out, you have to call me like an adult.

I can practically hear his the smile in his voice, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

But I call him anyway. 

“Look who grew up,” he says in lieu of hello, voice gravelly and amused. 

“Oh, shut up. Do you want to buy me dinner or not?”

He laughs at that, the sound making my lips twitch. “I would love to buy you dinner. But only because I can’t bear the thought of you eating Ramen for the third time this week.”

Narrowing my eyes and glancing around like a fugitive, I try to figure out how the hell he knows I’ve been surviving on reheated, soggy noodles for the past week.

I don’t have the chance to ask before he declares, “I’ll pick you up at six. Oh, and check your doorstep.”

The line clicks dead ominously, and I glance suspiciously at my front door. 

Tiptoeing over, I peek outside, eyes going wide when I see a package leaning against the brick side of the building. 

How long has that been here? I got the mail yesterday, so it had to come today, but... how did he know I’d call today? Is he Batman or something?

I grab the package, roll my eyes at the big red bow on top, and put it on the counter. Then I pick it back up and shake it like that’ll tell me what he’s up to. 

But the curiosity starts to kill me, and I rip into the pretty packaging like a feral animal, unable to wait another second. A shiny black box is inside, and I flip the top open, eyebrows flying up when I look inside. 

The dress is blood red and looks fitted and beautiful. But that isn’t what surprises me. It the thin, lacy underwear with a note attached. A note that reads, in Rhysand’s slashy, distinct handwriting, These are optional. 

The feminist in me flares, and I decide right then and there to make him eat those words. 

~

When six o’clock comes around, I’m prepped and ready for battle. 

My hair is done, my makeup pristine, and the dress is hugging every curve and propping my boobs up to sit nicely on my chest. I don’t typically give myself compliments, but I look damn good. And more than that, I feel good. 

I also don’t typically wear bold makeup, but I’ve thrown that rule out the window. 

My lips match the dress, a dark, ruby red that makes my skin look pale in comparison. I’m complete shit at eyeliner, but I put enough mascara on to frame my eyes and make the blue pop against the red of my lips and dress. 

I look like a mix between a pinup girl and a vampire, basically. 

Knowing how punctual he is, as soon as the clock on my phone reads 7:00, I swing the door open and smile broadly. 

Rhysand pauses, fist halfway to where the door was, and uses a long moment to take me in. His eyes linger on my lips, the exposed cleavage, the sweep of my hips. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak, I step out and lock the door behind me. 

“The problem with your chauvinistic little plan to tell me what to wear, Rhysand,” I tell him, slipping the lace he’d gifted me into his pants pocket and accidently feeling him up, “Is that now you know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It was a flawed plan, I admit.” He swallows, eyes narrowing on my hips like he can sense if I’m telling the truth. “But the important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reasons for existing.”

I roll my eyes. “Quoting Einstein now to make yourself feel smart?”

He smiles at that. “Stop calling me on my shit, Feyre. Let’s go.”

I take his hand, happy with myself for winning this round, and let him pull me down the street. He stops in front of a dark, speedy looking car. “Beefcakes busy tonight?”

He gives me a strange look, then laughs loudly. “His name is Rolando.”

Still chuckling, he opens the door for me before walking around to his side. The car’s low to the ground and dark inside, and it makes a loud, rumbling sound when he turns it on. 

He grins, almost like he can’t help it, and I laugh. “Boys and their toys.”

Rhysand pulls out of the spot smoothly, driving slowly because of the traffic. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh, just below the hem of the dress. 

It’s warm and wonderful and casual enough to not mean anything, but I’ve made it my goal tonight to make him cry like a baby, so I swat it away. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

I look over at him and smile sweetly. “Trying to seduce me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I link our fingers together and rest them on the center consol. “Where are we going?”

“New York.”

My mouth drops open. “Um, what? That’s like a twelve hour drive.”

“We’re not driving.”

I gesture around us with my free hand. “Yes, we are.”

“You are such a little smartass tonight. We are currently driving, but we aren’t driving to New York. And before you ask, the answer is yes.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “To what question?”

“If it’s my plane.”

I drop his hand and throw both of mine up in frustration. “Okay what gives? Did you stick a chip in my head or something?”

He smiles, pulling onto the interstate smoothly. Even though it’s not as crowded, he still drives slower than I’d expected when I saw the car. “Your face is very easy to read.”

“It is not,” I argue, my face instantly finding insult with that statement.

“Yes, it is. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me two truths and a lie, and I bet I can guess which one is the lie.”

“What’s the bet?”

He takes his eyes off the road to give me a very male look. I narrow my eyes, picking up on the innuendo in his gaze, and he laughs. 

“And if I win?” I ask, taking in his profile while he drives and trying not to sigh at how handsome he is. Such a nice jawline. 

“I’ll answer three of the questions you’re dying to ask.”

Oh, he knows me too well for this. His smile grows because he knows I’m a fish gladly swallowing the hook, but still asks, “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

I take a few minutes to think of facts about myself. 

“I had a pet goat when I was little, my best friend’s a lesbian, and I think Mick Jagger is sexy.”

They’re the three most random things I could think of, things he’d have absolutely no way of knowing.

But the damn bastard still says immediately, “Your best friend isn’t a lesbian.”

My mouth drops open because technically, she’s bi, and I make a strangled sound of disbelief that makes him grin. “I told you. You’re a bad liar. Shame, I could tell you really wanted to ask those questions.”

“I hate you,” I tell him, beyond annoyed myself. 

He pulls off the highway and turns, leading us out to a dusky private airfield I--shockingly--never knew was behind the airport. Rhysand slows to a stop and looks over at me, then leans slowly to press his lips to mine. 

It’s warm and sweet and soft, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

He ruins the moment by murmuring, “I’ll take my reward later, by the way.”

I shove him over to his side of the car and climb out, then realize I don’t know where to go. We’re surrounded by expensive looking planes, one of which is obviously owned by the billionaire trying to get in my pants, but I don’t know which one. 

I glance back over my shoulder at him, and he smirks and points at the one to our right. 

“Are you seriously taking me to New York?”

I kind of thought he’d been joking, but he nods. “My favorite restaurant is there.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“More like hungry,” he argues, holding out a hand to gesture up the open steps leading in the plane.

I stay where I am, casting a curious glance up the stairs. It looks nice and shiny in there, but no matter how nice and shiny, it’s basically a steel death trap. 

Even though I can feel his eyes on me and desperately want to hide this fact about myself, I can’t step up. 

And because he’s an observant little asshole, he notices. “You’re afraid to fly.”

“Um, well, not afraid-”

“You’ve never flown before.” 

I nod, blushing from embarrassment. I mean, it’s obvious he flies all the time if he has his own plane, and I’m small town enough to have never even been in one. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. My first time flying was three years ago, Feyre.”

My face must look doubtful, because he nods. “I’m serious. I never saw the point until a business rivalry made me feel inadequate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. We can go somewhere else.” 

He’s sweet to offer, but... I want to go. I’ve never been to New York, and when am I going to get an offer like this again? 

“I’m... uh... are you sure about this thing?” I reach out and grab the handle of the stairs, shaking it to see if it’ll fall off or something. 

“Yes.”

There’s no argument, no doubt in his voice. And I know it’s irrational, but-

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heft me up, and I yelp as Rhysand flings me over his shoulder and my head comes very close to his ass. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you. You obviously want to go, and I’d hate to miss the reservations.”

“Rhysand, wait, hold on a second.” He ignores me entirely and walks up the stairs and inside the plane, even stopping to shake hands with the pilot. I’m dropped in a plush chair, and before I can object, a seatbelt is around my waist. 

“See?” He gestures around. “Like a living room.”

“In the sky!”

He shrugs like that’s an irrelevant detail, looking back over his shoulder and gesturing again to the pilot. I peek around him to see the door seal closed, then the gentle-looking man disappears in the control room. 

“He’s the one flying this thing?” I mean, he looked competent enough, but... 

I start freaking out.

Rhysand slips his jacket off, throwing it over the back of a seat before sliding into it, gentle grace and luxury lining his every movement. His eyes roam over me slowly, and I can tell he’s about to try and distract me before he even says, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I pant back, gripping the arms of the seat with white knuckles.

Plan A having failed, he swiftly moves onto B. “Are you really not wearing underwear?”

B, I have to admit, does a decent job of momentarily distracting me from my inevitable death. “I thought you said I’m easy to read.”

He smirks. “Tell me anyway. I won the bet, remember?”

“I remember you never specified the terms, so-”

I cut myself off as the plane starts rolling, and if I had half a mind to care, I’d worry my painted nails are about to bust through the soft leather of his chair. 

I feel like fucking throwing up or stabbing him or running far away or crying.

Rhysand, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, sprawled casually in the seat across from me.

The plane makes a slow turn, then pauses. Apprehension sweeps over me, and I groan and look at the ceiling. 

“Allow me to rectify that horrible mistake. My prize is... a kiss.”

Despite the nausea, I raise a brow and looks at him suspiciously. “You want to kiss me? That’s it?”

“Mmhm. Right now. Close your eyes.”

“But the plane-”

He shrugs and waves a hand. “Just close your eyes, love.”

I shut up and close my eyes, slightly pursing my lips and waiting patiently. I hear a shuffle, feel the warmth of his body come close to mine. My breath draws shallow in anticipation, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

There’s another pause, and I’m about to open my eyes to see where he went, but then the plane attempts to break the sound barrier and takes off, and I’m thrown back against the seat. 

At the same time, I feel a kiss on the inside of my knee.

My eyes fly open to find Rhysand kneeling in front of me, hands bracketing my thighs. I open my mouth to say something, but he growls, “Close. Your. Eyes.”

The frank demand in his voice gives me no option, and as soon as I do, he kisses my thigh again in reward.

“Now spread your legs.”

The plane goes faster and faster. “Rhysand...”

He sighs, a long-suffering sound that makes me giggle as I once again do what he wants. I mean, really, why was I even hesitating?

It’s obvious what he’s doing, and even though it’s not safe in the slightest, I’m well on board with the idea.

His hands move to my knees, then glide up, pushing the tight hem of the dress up. He’s pressing open-mouth kisses to my thighs as he goes, and then his hands slide up another inch, and my lack of undergarments are revealed. 

“Fuck, Feyre,” he says, like my going commando was my idea, not his.

I’m about to point that out when he leans forward and put his mouth on me. At the same time the plane lifts off the ground. 

I’m torn between panic and ecstasy. The combination makes me light headed, and a rush of adrenaline hits my system, making me gasp.

I try to sit up straighter in the seat, but he’s holding my hips in a death grip and pulls them the other way. I slide down, thighs falling further open. He slips his shoulders under them, completely in control of the situation, and all I can do is grip his hair and enjoy the ride.

His mouth is insistent and confident against me and makes me finally stop thinking about dying in a fiery plane crash.

He slides a hand up my thigh, somehow able to hold me still with just one, then presses a finger inside me. I groan and pull on his hair, squirming underneath his grip, but it’s useless. 

Rhysand holds tight, his strong hands preventing me from moving, as he devours me completely. I make a helpless sound, but he doesn’t take mercy.

I think, instead of the crash, I’ll die from this instead. 

I think I’ll just burn and burn and burn from the fire he’s ignited in my blood.

His name slips past my lips, and he pauses, then becomes even more demanding. I’m being adored, worshipped, eaten like a ice cream sundae.

Another finger slips inside me as his mouth sucks softly, and I come with a cry, practically strangling him with my thighs. 

He keeps moving, kissing me softly, until my thighs go limp and I fall back into the seat with a huff. 

He leans back on his heels, hands braced on my thighs, and runs his tongue across his lower lip in a way that makes me almost come again. Realization of what he just did courses through me, and I blush, well aware that my lady bits are still on display. 

“Flying isn’t so bad after all.”

Rhysand laughs, pressing one last kiss to my knee before gently pulling my dress back into place. Then he sits back in his seat, crosses his legs, and looks me over slowly. 

“Well, that was definitely a faulty plan, because now I don’t even want to go to dinner.”

“No?”

“No.”

The heat in his gaze sends a thrill through me, because suddenly, I don’t even care about New York. I want him to land this plane and take me home and give me a repeat of what just happened. 

But now it’s abundantly clear that if I went home with him, I wouldn’t walk out with my sanity. So, once again a coward, I deflect. “Well, too bad. I’m hungry.”

He says something I can’t quite hear, the way he looks at me tells me not to ask. 

“How long is the flight?”

He checks his watch. “About another half hour.” My mind wanders to very... creative ways we could fill that time, and I blush again. “I’m curious to know what you’re thinking about over there.”

His smile says he knows, so I look him over like he often does me and say softly, “I’m thinking about returning the favor.”

His eyes flare, his mind easily following mine, but he maintains his composure. “A half hour isn’t nearly enough time if we start going down that road.”

It takes me more than a second to figure out how to breathe again. “How much time would we need?”

“Days.”

Oh, holy hell.

I’m about to tell him to keep us in the air that long, but he winks and looks away, then presses a button on a remote I hadn’t noticed he was holding. A classy looking woman in a red skirt and matching blouse comes out of the cockpit, wheeling an ice bucket and holding two glasses. 

“Good evening,” she says quietly, looking at me kindly but avoiding eye contact with Rhysand entirely as she pours us both champagne. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Then she’s gone. 

I’m about to sip from my glass, but he reaches out and switches his with mine. 

Immediately, I steal my original glass back. “I’m not getting poisoned because you pissed her off.”

“What makes you think I pissed her off?”

“She couldn’t even look at you.”

His lips twitch. “I know you’ll find this strange, but some people find me intimidating.”

I scoff, a very ladylike sound, and take a gulp of the champagne. Noticing he still hasn’t drank any of his, I take his glass and sip from it with a raised brow. “Are you going to let me die alone?”

He rolls his eyes and calls me a smartass but drinks from his glass anyway. 

“Why are you always so sure someone’s trying to kill you, anyway?”

There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating if he’s actually going to tell me before he responds, “I have a lot of enemies, Feyre.”

He sounds so unusually serious, like he’s just told me something important. 

“I don’t,” I tell him with a sigh, suddenly irritated with my normal life. “I think I’ve grown a bit boring, actually. No one hates me, and I never even have to worry about being poisoned.”

Rhysand chuckles and gives me a strange look. “You’re not boring. And never worrying about being murdered isn’t a terrible thing.”

“I’m boring. I can’t even lie properly.”

“That,” he laughs, “I can’t argue with.”

“New game: I say something, and you guess if it’s a lie. No betting this time.”

He sighs but nods and gives me a get on with it gesture. 

Keeping my face completely neutral and making sure my fingers aren’t twitching or any other obvious give away, I say, “I have two sisters.”

“True.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a deep breath and keep my cool. “I tried to learn Italian last summer.”

“Also true, but I’m willing to bet it went poorly.”

A laugh escapes me at that. “It was horrible. I’m complete shit at the accent.” I try to think of other facts about myself and come up short. Gods, I really am boring, aren’t I? 

“I’ve never been in love.”

His eyes scan my face. “That’s a lie.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking at his chin and wondering why I even said that in the first place. 

He ducks to catch my gaze. “Your ex?”

We’re getting into dangerous territory--even I know you don’t discuss your ex-boyfriend this early in the game--but he doesn’t seem upset or stressed or jealous. He looks... curious. So I shrug and nod. 

“What happened?”

Taking another large gulp of champagne, I say, “He wanted to get married, I didn’t. I loved him, but... he was older and wanted something I just wasn’t ready to give him. And then he moved, and I got over it.”

Rhysand’s silent for a beat, a muscle in his jaw twitching, then nods like he understands. “Older, huh? You have a type.”

I laugh at the thought of the two of them being anything alike. “You couldn’t look more different from my ex. And you refused to actually tell me how old you are. ”

He sighs. “I’m seven years older than you.”

Quick math has never been my strong suit, but I figure it out eventually, my mouth dropping open when I do. “You’re twenty-eight?”

He nods in confirmation, and I proceed to lose my mind.

“Just twenty-eight? As in two eight, twenty-eight?”

Another nod, along with a very strange look. 

I realize I’m acting just a little bizarre, so I shake my head to clear it and say, “You’re... very impressive, Rhysand.”

When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll probably be just another starving artist, looking for a museum to hire me as a curator and begging people to buy my paintings. I’ll be broke and will have developed an allergy to Ramen from how much I’ll be eating it. 

I definitely won’t be a gazillionaire with a private art collection and enough real estate to own half the city of Chicago. 

He shrugs uncomfortably, like my bewilderment isn’t deserved, and I can’t resist the temptation to tease him. “You also suck at taking compliments.”

“Yes,” he admits. “But so do you.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

He smiles and braces his elbows on his knees and immediately proceeds to prove me wrong. “You’re far more impressive than me. You’re gorgeous and talented and have a way of looking at the world that makes me feel like I haven’t lived a day of my life properly.”

I blush furiously and look at the ceiling of our death trap, wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You’ve proved your point.”

Rhysand laughs, then glances at his watch. “We should be on the ground soon.”

Almost like he spoke it into being, the plane dips and a mechanical whirring sound meets my ears. Is that supposed to happen? “Oh, fucking hell, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You did try to poison me.”

I give him a nasty look and mutter, “So fucking ridiculous, flying to another city for dinner. Next time, we’re going to Taco Bell.”

He rolls his eyes at my antics, unbuckling and moving to sit next to me. His hand slides into mine, warm and comforting, and I grab onto it like child child running from the boogeyman. His thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I sigh, leaning to put my head on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for the dress,” I finally say, remembering my manners. 

“It looks good on you. Like I said, I have excellent taste.”

I smile. “I’m waiting on dinner to confirm or deny that.”

Suddenly, there’s a large sound and a bump, then I’m leaning forward as the plane comes screeching to a halt. I press my eyes shut and squeeze the shit out of his hand, but he just keeps running his thumb along my skin, silently comforting me.

The plane comes to an eventual stop, and I peek open my eyes to see him grinning down at me. “Welcome to New York, Feyre darling.”

~

A week after our soiree to the Big Apple, I decide I have a problem. 

I like Rhysand way too much to have only known him three weeks. 

He’s all I fucking think about. 

Which, I guess, isn’t a problem. Being swept off your feet is every little girl’s dream. But it’s getting harder and harder to resist sleeping with him.

I’ve been wined and dined and given searing kisses that make my toes curl, not to mention the whole incident on the airplane, but we haven’t actually had sex. Honestly, I thought I’d cave on the way back from New York, but I ended up passing out in a food coma before the plane even took off, my head nestled in the happy spot between his shoulder and neck. 

I definitely want to sleep with him, so much so it makes my eyes cross just thinking about it, but it just scares me how much I like him. 

And I know sleeping with him would just make me like him more. 

I need a breather, need to get my distance and keep my head or whatever the saying is. I need to calm the fuck down, basically. 

So I, being a mature adult, decide to avoid him.

I make it five days. 

Five days of missed calls and intentionally unseen smoke signals. 

Then he apparently decides to stoop to my level and figure out how to text, because five days after the most extravagant dinner date of my life, my phone dings. 

If you ignore one more of my calls, I’m going to buy Dancers in Blue and light it on fire.

I spend exactly eighty-three seconds debating if he’s serious. I mean... surely not, right? I know he’s richer than sin, but he wouldn’t just burn fifty million dollars. 

Right?

Rational thought and self preservation be damned, I pick up the phone when it starts to ring. 

“That, Rhysand, was emotional manipulation.”

“Yes, it was.” He’s shameless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” I don’t know why I bother lying, since I’m apparently such shit at it, but I do. “I’ve been busy.”

Yes, very busy with watching nine movies in the past four days.

“With...?”

Inspiration dawns. “My senior project.”

“Oh, really?” A nervous sweat breaks out across my back at the knowing tone of his voice, and I begin to doubt my genius. “What’s the subject?”

“Uh, well-”

“Now that we’ve reestablished you’re a horrible liar, tell me what’s really going on.”

If he were here, I’d strangle him. 

Or maybe kiss him.

“I need a few days,” I mutter, upset with myself for being an open book. 

“Why?”

His simple question makes me think he doesn’t want space. Is he as into me as I am to him? Is that even possible? 

“Because I like you,” I say honestly, having learned my lesson about lying. 

Rhysand’s quiet for a long moment, then he chuckles. “I see the issue.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Answer the door.”

What? “There’s no one at the door.” 

At least there shouldn’t be, because I didn’t invite anyone over. 

“Incorrect.”

Eyes already narrowed, I stomp over and fling the door open, practically ripping it off its hinges in my frustration. He’s leaning against the brick stoop, looking sexier than socks on a rooster in a midnight blue shirt and black slacks, smiling at me. 

“You are not allowed to avoid me just because you like me,” he states, brushing past me without invitation.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

He kisses my brow. “I like you, too.”

“Okay, but-”

“And I have cake.” He holds up a clear box, allowing me a glimpse of the fluffy chocolate deliciousness inside. 

It’s almost annoying how well he knows me, because chocolate cake is my vice.

I try to think of another protest that won’t que him in to why I’m actually scared, but he cuts me off because of course, he already knows. “I won’t touch you, I promise. Even if you ask.”

My lips twitch. “Even if I ask?”

“Even if you beg,” he states with confidence, strolling into the kitchen like he owns the place. He looks around, face not giving a single detail away as he takes in everything. 

Thankfully, I’m not a slob, so the place isn’t dirty, but it’s definitely not a penthouse apartment. 

It’s a tiny old townhouse, barely big enough to even be called that. The water is lukewarm, never hot, and I had to just take the smoke detector out of the ceiling so it would stop beeping. 

It’s part of my scholarship, and compared to where most college students live, it’s a dream, so I don’t complain. 

His eyes roam over half-done canvases and art supplies, pictures of my sisters, random shit I don’t have the heart to throw away. 

I sigh and bump him aside with a hip so I can grab two forks, then motion for him to follow me. We head into the living room, and I flop onto the couch dramatically, then motion for him to hand me the cake. 

Sitting next to me with far more class, he flips open the lid and hands me a fork. “Chocolate mousse.” 

“I’m going to be three hundred pounds if you keep feeding me,” I warn as I take a bite, not at all concerned with that possibility. 

“I think you’ll be fine.”

I grab the remote and flip through movies, eventually sighing in defeat and putting on Scarface. 

“Seriously?” he asks around a mouthful of cake, fighting a smile. 

“It’s my favorite movie, and nothing good’s on anyway.”

He looks at me like I’m the most amusing thing he’s ever come across, but settles down and flings an arm around me. Fighting the urge to tell him this breaks his whole ‘no touching’ rule, I snuggle into his side. 

Maybe it’s the cake, or the fact that I’m horrible at staying awake through a movie past eight o’clock, but I drift off to sleep, my face pressed into his chest. 

~Rhysand~

I finish the movie--fucking Scarface--even though she fell asleep a while ago. 

She’s soft and warm against me, body relaxed into mine without an ounce of hesitation. 

She tried to hide it, but I know why she didn’t want to see me. 

She’s falling for me. 

Which, technically, is the plan. 

Technically, everything is going great. 

Except she’s fucking worming her way into my heart too. Which is so goddamn annoying, it makes me want to strangle her. Or maybe kiss her. 

Being with her is... a wonderful kind of torture. 

She’s beautiful and charming and doesn’t look at me with an ounce of fear in her bright blue eyes, but it’s also like holding up a mirror that shows me the worst parts of myself. 

I hear her laugh and am reminded of the last time I laughed and loved freely. I see her beautiful soul and compare it to the bleakness of my own.

I look at her blind innocence and force myself to not care that I’ll be the one who robs her of it.

Maybe that’s why I finish the movie. I give myself two hours to sit here and enjoy her company, two hours where she doesn’t hate me or curse the day I was born. 

But then the credits role, and I have to pull my head our of my ass and get on with it, no matter how much I don’t want to.

Moving slowly so she doesn’t stir, I lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, fingers playing in the hair at my nape, and sighs happily. 

I wish she wouldn’t do shit like that. 

I wish she was heartless and cruel and cold. 

I make my way up the creaky stairs to her room, then put her on the unmade bed, the covers horribly messy around her. The moonlight coming through the open window illuminates her skin and allows me to see how vulnerable she looks.

She’s in tiny little shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and a thin white shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide what’s underneath. Her hair’s a mess around her, her lips are parted, and there’s a calm, peaceful look on her face.

It’s perfect. 

It’s horrible.

Taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, I tell myself not to care. 

But as I take out my phone and snap a picture, my hands still shake. 

And as I type the message I’ve been mentally drafting for years, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

But as much as I hate myself for it, a feeling of victory shoots through me as I hit send.��Revenge, it seems, really is sweet. 

And I’m just getting started. 

___________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @bamchickawowow​ @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[ilosttrackofthings]

#4 human shield for biospecialist please!

“Listen to me!” Simmons yells. She’s got to to be heard over all the noise Grant and the other cops are making. They’re trying to restrain him because they think he’s a mugger or would-be rapist or something and he’s trying not to murder them.

Seriously, he’s trying so hard not to use lethal force that one of these losers has managed to get a handcuff on him. Yet another instance where his life would be just so much easier if he didn’t have to play SHIELD all the time.

“He was helping me,” Simmons goes on, trying to sound cool and level-headed and not like she just narrowly escaped a kidnapping attempt. “He’s a SHIELD agent!”

“Oh,” says the cop gently leading her away from the melee, “we know. And we know you are too, Agent Simmons.”

Grant’s surprise is enough of an opening the other cuff is closed around a drain pipe.

“What,” Simmons says more than asks. Luckily her shock’s stilled her too. The fake cop is having some trouble dragging her any closer to what Grant guesses is also a fake police van. She teeters on the high heels she bought for her cousin’s bachelorette party. The same party that brought her and Grant more than a thousand miles from the team that’ll be too far away to help when they don’t check in in a few hours.

“Don’t worry,” the fake cop soothes. “You’ll have all the toys. Everything SHIELD could offer you and more. And you’ll be treated well—so long as you’re productive.”

“What about Ward?” she asks, a touch of hysteria pulling at her voice.

“You’ll have new bodyguards. If you’re good, maybe they’ll be as pretty as SHIELD’s.”

To Grant’s left one of the grunts is unholstering his sidearm. They’ve all backed off now he’s restrained, but not far. All he needs is that moment, the one right before the trigger’s pulled. These guys are pros so they’ll know the sound’s coming. They’ll tense up, the smarter ones will even cover their ears to protect them. That’s the opening. Take out the gunman. Then the big guy. If he’s lucky he can knock Goliath here into someone else, maybe even two someones. If he’s really lucky he’ll manage to hold onto the gun when he takes out the first one. He just needs that opening-

Which evaporates right in front of him when Simmons appears between him and the gun. Somehow she managed to break free and chose to run back to him instead of just running.

They are so having a lesson on tactics in a life-or-death scenario when this is over.

“No!” she gasps. Her breathing’s ragged from the adrenaline but her voice is firm. “If you want me to work for you, you won’t touch him.”

The grunts exchange a few looks. To Simmons it probably looks like they’re considering her demand. To Grant it looks like they’re trying not to laugh.

She sighs. “Listen. Your employers, whoever they may be, want me for my mind. Obviously this means you don’t need Agent Ward-”

“Uh,” Grant says. Simmons reaches blindly back, laying a soothing hand on whatever part of him she touches first. He wonders if he should let her know she gets his peck, not his shoulder.

“-and you also don’t need to leave me unharmed. I’m quite capable of exercising my genius with a broken bone or two.”

“Simmons,” Grant says, voice low enough he’s hoping it sounds to her like a growl. What the fuck is she doing?

“But I assure you, I am quite stubborn when I have a mind to be. If you shoot him or break his bones or put so much as one of his hairs out of place, I will die before I help your employer with so much as a cake recipe.” She tips her chin up and from this angle Grant can only imagine the I’m smarter than you and we both know it look on her face. “Do we understand one another?”

The grunts look more uncertain than before. Uncertain enough that they miss Grant breaking his own thumb and slipping the cuffs. They don’t miss when he shoves Simmons to the ground, but they’re all a little busy being beaten to death with every ounce of berserker rage he can summon up this many months later to worry about her anymore.

“Well,” Simmons says a quarter of an hour later, when he’s standing over the bodies. “That was…”

He rounds on her. “Stupid.”

She recoils. From the insult or his anger or the blood and viscera clinging to him, probably all three and, frankly, he’s glad. She should be afraid.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands, looming over her.

She stares, eyes wide. Which just proves how stupid she is. She’s afraid of him but a few minutes ago she didn’t bat an eye at the guys with literal guns who were trying to kidnap her and enslave her to whatever psycho warlord or billionaire wants her mind.

“My job,” he says tightly, “is to protect you. Your job is to be protected. Not to throw yourself in harm’s way just to-”

“To protect you!” she snaps back. The fear’s swept away, replaced by anger of her own. “They were going to kill you. You can’t expect me to stand by and watch that happen!”

“Yes. I can. Because that’s my job. I take the bullet for you. Not the other way around.”

She scoffs and now he gets to see that smarter than you look for himself. “I know that prior to this assignment you were very comfortable playing the lone wolf, Agent Ward-” he struggles not to recoil from the title; it’s been a long time since she dropped it- “but you’re part of a team now. You have friends, whether you like it or not. So you’d best get used to people putting you first once in a while.”

She whirls, smacking him in the face with that ponytail of hers. “Now I’m going to call this mess in to the local SHIELD satellite office. I suggest you start checking for pulses. They’ll want someone to question.” It’s clear from her tone she expects if none of the perpetrators are available, SHIELD will turn their attention to him and his excessive response.

Grant doesn’t bother checking. The local office is run by a Hydra agent who owes him a favor; his little killing spree will be swept under the rug in a few hours and he and Simmons can get back to the Bus.

How he feels about going back there with her after what she said and did, he’s not ready to think about.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch40: I Went For The Head

Intro: The Avengers track Thanos down and confront him for a final time, but it doesn’t go according to plan, and leaves them facing the horrible fact that there is simply nothing they can do to set anything right.

Warnings: Bad Language words. And a helluva load of angst.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Please heed the warnings… thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for this edit- the first one of Katie in the Supernova suit... 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 39 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Can I have a cheeseburger yet?” Tony grumbled.

“Probably best to start with something a little less greasy.” Bruce stated, checking the drips attached to Tony’s arm. “It will play havoc with your stomach.”

“Porridge?” Pepper suggested.

“What?” Tony pulled a face “For real?”

“Good idea.” Bruce ignored Tony as he continued to check the readings on the monitor besides the bed. “With honey, it will help your energy levels”

“And then a cheeseburger later? “ Tony persisted. 

“What is this obsession you two have with cheeseburgers?” Bruce looked at him, then to Katie as Tony shrugged.

“But seriously…” he began and Pepper cut him off

“No, Tony!”

“I’m gonna go get that porridge before this turns into a full scale domestic.” Katie grinned. 

“’ll have it in the living room.” Tony sat up a little more.

“No, you won’t.” Katie looked at him at the same time Pepper protested but Tony cut them both off.

“Yes I will.” He shot back, “We need to talk, de brief, plan.” “Steve, tell him it can wait.” Katie looked round at her husband, who had up until that point been observing silently from the side of the room. He made the mistake of hesitating, just for a split second, and she glared at him.

“Honey…” He began and she held her hand up.

“Don’t wanna hear it.” “Look, Tony’s right.” Steve tried to explain but she shook her head.

“No, no he is not. Bruce, help me out here please!” She looked to the Doctor for help who sighed as he shook his head.

“What’s the point? He’ll do it anyway.” Bruce’s voice was resigned. “I’ll fetch a chair.” “I don’t believe this.” Katie groaned and ran her hands over her face as Pepper and Tony were now full on arguing. She looked at Steve and he visibly recoiled at the look of pure anger on her face “If anything happens to him I swear to God, Steve, I will kill you!”

Steve knew Tony should be resting, he really did, but the Billionaire had been adamant earlier that they needed to do something, and fast. And they’d been on tenterhooks for over three weeks now. Steve was itching to see if Tony knew something that could help. Simply put, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

Half an hour or so later they reconvened in the conference room, Katie still extremely pissed off. Tony was sat at the table, perched in a wheelchair with an IV bag connected to his arm, hung from a pole behind him, the remnants of a bowl of porridge were in front of him. He was busy looking at the pictures of those that were lost flashing on the holographic screens all around the table as Natasha was talking, his chin resting in his hand as he concentrated. Katie shot Steve another angry glare and he sighed, looking back at Natasha as she spoke.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working, are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did-” Natasha paused as she swallowed, “he did exactly what he said he was going to do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures.”

“Where is he now?” Tony asked looking right at Steve as he lifted his head from his hand.

Steve sighed before he spoke. “We don’t know.” He opened his hand, allowing it to dall to his side. “He just- opened a portal and walked through.” He leaned back against the back of an arm chair, his arms folded across his chest.

Tony sighed and looked around the room, frowning as he glanced over to where Thor was sat on a bench outside, deep in thought as his hands wringed together. Katie knew the sight of Tony looking so ill last night when he had seen him,  had knocked the god further back into his dark mood, the one she’d tried, and so far failed, to coax him out of.

Tony gestured to the God “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s pissed. He thinks he’s failed.” Rocket sighed from his spot sitting on the floor against a wall. “Which, of course, he did, but you know, there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?”

Tony leaned forward in his chair, mouth agape at the talking raccoon, “Honestly until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-a-Bear.

Katie grinned, the familiar Tony Stark sass coming back out to play was music to her ears.

“Maybe I am.” Rocket answered, and Steve steered the conversation back.

“We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep space scans, and satellites, and we got nothin’.” He took a deep breath, almost afraid to ask the next question. “Tony, you fought him-”

Tony furrowed his brow, cutting Steve off, “Who told you that? I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street magician gave away the stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight. Because he’s unbeatable.”

“Okay,” Steve softly cut in. “Did he give you any clues? Any coordinates, anything?”

Tony blew air out loudly through his lips as he gave a sarcastic salute to Steve.  Steve narrowed his eyes and accross from him Katie let out a silent groan, and glanced at Natasha who gave a loud sigh.

“You know, I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision, you remember that Kiddo?” Tony looked at Katie as she took a deep breath. “But, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I was dreaming.”

"Tony, I’m going to need you to focus-” Steve started as he stood, taking a step closer to Tony.

”And I needed you. As in past tense.” Tony tilted his head and looked up at Steve, dropping his hand from where it had been rubbing against his lip. “That trumps what you need. It’s too late buddy, sorry.”

Tony’s words echoed round Steve’s head and it felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Tony was right, he’d let them down, he’d let them all down. He tried his best to keep his face from falling as he breathed deeply and he saw Katie watching him intently, her face expressionless.

“Ok, that’s enough.” She started, moving towards Tony but he shook his head, and waved her away. 

"You know what I need?” He asked, his voice rising in volume and Steve’s attention turned to him as he stood, throwing his hand down and sending the remnants of his bowl of porridge flying across the table. “I need a shave. And I believe I even remember telling all of yous, alive or otherwise-” he began to rip his IV out of his arm as Katie stepped forward at the same time Rhodey did.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, stop!”  Rhodey said gently, as Tony ignored him and continued.

“-that what we needed was a suit of armour around the world.” He snapped voice raising as his breathing increased without the IV bag feeding him nutrient any longer. “Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not, that’s what we needed.”

Precious freedoms…Steve’s face fell further as he took in Tony’s word, his brother-in-law still blamed him. He took a deep breath and looked at him. “Well that didn’t work out, did it?” he finally said, his voice full of sadness, tone soft.

But Tony was just getting started, and he paid Steve’s remorse no attention as he continued. “I said we’d lose. You said, ‘We’ll do that together too.’” He mocked in a deep voice. “Well, guess what Cap? We lost, and you weren’t there. But that’s what we do, right?” Tony looked around. “Our best work after the fact? We’re the A-vengers? We’re the A-vengers, not the Pre-vengers?” he questioned rhetorically to Katie as she moved to stand in front of him, placing herself in between her brother and her husband.

“Okay, you made your point Tone, just sit down.” Her hand gently pressed to the middle of his chest.

“She’s right.” Rhodey looked at him, taking hold of his shoulder.

Tony ignored both of them completely, instead he turned to Carol and pointed at her. “She is fantastic by the way. We need you, you’re new blood. We’re a bunch of tired old mills.” he gestured around,  shrugging off Rhodey’s grasp, and gently pushing Katie to one side as he stepped right up to Steve pointing a finger in his face. Steve swallowed and looked down at Tony as Katie hesitated behind him, ready to intervene if Tony did anything stupid.

“I got nothing for you Cap. I’ve got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero, zip, nada. No trust, liar.” His whispered the last word.

Another punch to the gut. Steve took a deep breath, his chest falling. It was true, he had no defence or response.

“Tony, that’s not fair.” Katie began, glancing at Steve who looked like he had just been slapped. As she did, Tony reached up and ripped the arc reactor off his chest and shoved it into Steve’s hand. Steve looked down at it in utter incredulity.

“Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on.” Tony then turned to Katie. “And you, seeing as you follow him everywhere, you hide.”  

Before the last word was fully out, Tony stumbled, tilting forward and Katie caught him, dropping to her knees keeping his weight supported as best she could, as Steve and Rhodey also crouched down.

“I’m fine. I…” Tony’s protest was cut off as he collapsed, out could.

“Get him into the medic bay.” Bruce instructed immediately, as Steve effortlessly picked him up and followed Bruce out of the room, Rhodey close behind. Katie hurried after them, with Pepper, as Steve gently lay him down on the bed before he stepped from the room as Bruce began hooking him back up to the drips.

“I told you!” Katie followed him out, blazing with anger. “I told you he wasn’t up to this. When are you going to realise you don’t always know better?”

“I’m sorry.” Steve gulped and looked down at his hands, before he took a deep breath, his chest shaking. “And for the record, I realised that a long time ago.”

He looked utterly dejected, and Katie felt the anger in her system ebbing away, and she let out a sigh.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Don’t.” Steve shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Don’t say you didn’t mean it, because you did. Just like Tony meant what he said before.”

“He was lashing out.” Katie gently lay her hand on Steve’s arm. “He feels guilty. And probably hasn’t had the chance to process and think about it like we have.”

“Thing is you’re right, and he’s right. I am a liar.” Steve sighed and shook his head, raising his eyebrows as he continued to look at his feet. “I did say we would fight together, and when it came to it, we didn’t, because I couldn’t swallow my damned pride over the Accords.” “Hey.” Katie’s voice dropped as she reached up to turn his face to look at her. “Those accords, that entire situation was complicated, Steve. It was never as simple as just swallowing your pride.” “Yeah it was.” He shrugged, shooting another sad glance in Tony’s direction as Rhodey came out of the room, leaving Bruce to bustle about and check the IVs.

“Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s probably going to be out for the rest of the day.” Rhodey informed them. Steve nodded but his attention flew to Carol when she spoke.

“You guys take care of him, and I’ll bring him a Zorien Elixer when I come back.” She stated before walking away.

“Where are you going?” Natasha questioned, her tone laced with confusion.

“To kill Thanos.” Carol said simply as she kept walking away. Steve and Katie turned to each other, then looked at Natasha before they all followed her down the few steps back towards the conference room.

Natasha reached her first, “Hey, you know we usually work as a team here, and between you and I, morals a little fragile.”

“We realize up there is more your territory, but this is our fight too,” Steve added, as Rhodey chipped in.

“Do you even know where he is?”

“I know people who might.” Carol replied

“Don’t bother.” A different voice came from the doorframe behind Carol, and they all whipped around to face Nebula. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”

Katie exchanged a glance with Nat, then Steve, and they followed the blue woman to the common room where Rocket was waiting. Rhodey arrived shortly after with Bruce, who looked around questioningly.

“Nebula had an idea and we ran some scans.” Rocket hopped up onto the table as Nebula began talk, bending over the keyboard at the holograph.

“Thanos spent a lot of time trying to perfect me. And when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled I wanted to please him. I’d ask ‘where would we go once he’s plan is complete?’ his answer was always the same, 'To the Garden.”

She finished typing in some coordinates.

“That’s cute.” Rhodey scoffed. “Thanos has a retirement plan.”

“So where is he?” Steve asked, not hiding the edge in his voice.

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power source of ridiculously cosmic proportions, no one’s ever seen anything like it.” Rocket explained pulling up a hologram of Earth, then a simulation of the power source he was talking about swept over the simulation before the hologram morphed into another planet, “Until two days ago, on this planet.”

“Thanos is there.” Nebula said, matter of factly.

“He used the stones again.” Katie breathed, her mouth going dry as she leaning forward to get a closer look.

“Hey, hey, hey, we’d be going in shorthanded, you know?” Bruce stuttered.

Rhodey joined in. “He’s still got the stones, so-”

“So let’s go get him. And use them to get everyone back.” Carol shrugged, as she looked around.

“Just like that?” Bruce questioned.

“Yeah. Just like that.” Steve replied nodding as did Carol. He was done waiting now, it was time to act. This was the best chance they were going to have.

Katie looked at the holograph before looking up to Natasha.

“I mean, even if there’s a small chance that we can undo this, we owe it to everyone who’s not in this room to try.” Nat argued, her voice almost breaking at the words.

“If we do this, how do we know it’s going to end any differently than it did before?” Katie asked, looking around.

“Because before you didn’t have me” Carol stated simply, her hands on her hips.

Steve almost smiled at the look on Katie’s face, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair they’d shot up so fast. But it wasn’t his wife who replied, it was Rhodey.

“Hey new girl, everybody in this room is about that superhero life. And if you don’t mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?” His tone was clipped.

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe,” Carol shot back before she sighed, her tone softening, “Unfortunately they didn’t have you guys.”

Katie glanced at Nat, then Steve who raised his eyebrows in a “fair enough” gesture a small smile flickered across his face. But, before anyone had time to comment, there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as Thor stood from the table he’d been eating at and stomped toward Carol, making Katie jump as she’d completely forgotten he was there.

He came to a stop in front of the woman, staring at her for a beat before lifting his hand. His axe flew past her, mere inches from her head, whipping her hair around her face.  Not even a flinch. Instead she looked up at Thor appraisingly, her mouth twisting into a small smile.

Thor pondered for a moment, both hands resting on the top of his axe. Eventually he nodded and turned to Katie. “I like this one, Little Stark.”

Katie gave a huff of a laugh before she looked at Steve.He was staring at the alien planet on the hologram before him, jaw twitching. This was it, their chance to bring everyone back. They had to go for it, they had to. The instruction the team was waiting for came in the form of a low growl, the steely Captain America determination emanating from every word Steve spoke as he glanced up.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

*****

“Alright, now, who here hasn’t been to space?” Rocket asked.

Katie raised her hand and in front of her Natasha did the same as did Steve and Rhodey. Thor looked round, grinning.

“You better not throw up on my ship.” Rocket warned, turning back to the front.

“Approaching the jump in three-“ Nebula said loudly.

Katie clamped her right hand into the side of her seat, reaching her left across the space between them to grab Steve’s hand.

"Two.”

He laced his fingers into hers as he turned his head to look at her, giving her a soft smile.

“One.”

The pure force of the ship’s speed pushed Steve back against his seat as they shot through space, and his eyes widened. It was stunning, the stars and galaxies whirred past in a flash of purples, pinks, silvers and then the ship slowed to a stop.

Rocket opened the hatch and Carol headed out, turning back to the ship as she floated in front in the air outside.

“I’ll head down for recon.” Her voice came over the speakers and she turned and flew away.

Katie unbuckled her seatbelt and stood, stretching her legs before she turned and headed towards where Thor was sat, eyes focussed on a spot on the chair in front of him.

“You okay?” She asked, sitting down next to him. He turned his head to face her and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to kill him.” He said simply before he looked towards the front of the ship. Katie glanced up at Steve who was watching her, turning his compass over in his hand. He gave a small smile before turning to Natasha as she looked up from the tablet she was poking around on and spoke to him as he glanced down and opened it, looking at the photo of him and Katie inside. That day seemed like an age ago, happy, carefree their faces looked back at him, cross eyed and grinning into the camera.

“This is gonna work Steve.” Nat said, confidently.

“I know it is.” Steve replied simply, snapping his compass shut as he looked up at his friend, before he glanced back at Katie who had her head led on Thor’s shoulder. This was their last chance, the hope they’d been clinging onto, not only to bring everyone else back but the precious thing that had been taken from them. And if it didn’t work…well he didn’t even want to think about that. “Because I don’t know what we’re gonna do if it doesn’t.” He finished eventually.

Natasha gave him a small squeeze before they both glanced up as a bright light filled the ship. Carol had returned.

“No satellites. No ships. No armies.” She spoke incredulously as she hovered outside. “No ground defences of any kind. It’s just him.”

Nebula spoke as she stared straight ahead at the planet “And that’s enough.”

Rocket piloted the ship, following Carol, and landed at the bottom of a hill, a small hut perched on top of it. Steve stood up, turning to everyone and he noticed Thor’s eyes were flashing with lightning as he grit his teeth together.

“Think he’s in there?” Katie asked, squinting up at the hut. Nebula nodded.

“Alright team, just as we planned.” Steve instructed. Katie took a deep breath and walked down the ramp, glancing around. It looked just like a farm. Rhodey, even though the comment had been sarcastic, had hit the nail on the head. He’d killed countless people and then fucking retired to a farm.

“Are you ready?” Rocket asked.

Katie nodded and twisted her bracelet, the nano-tech of her replacement suit flowing over her. She leaned her arm down to allow the raccoon to climb up onto her shoulder and at the same time she saw Thor’s hand gripped round the handle of his axe, as Bruce picked up Natasha in the Hulk buster.

One by one those who could fly, crashed into the hut, surrounding Thanos on all four sides, taking him completely by surprise. Carol gripped him in a choke hold, and before he could so much as retaliate, Thor took a swipe at his hand, cutting it clean off taking the Infinity Gauntlet with it, as Thanos let out a scream of pain.

Katie stood in front of Thanos, her repulsors raised as she heard Steve and Natasha head up the steps into the hut. She turned to watch as Rocket jumped off her shoulder, kneeled and rolled over the severed gloved hand, where he recoiling instantly, clanking up.

Katie felt her stomach clench. The stones were gone.

“Where are they?” Steve bit, drawing level with Katie as he stared at Thanos.

Thanos’ breathing was laboured, almost as if he was struggling to draw oxygen, and Carol tightened her grip around his neck.

“Answer the question.” She growled.

Thanos shifted uncomfortably. “The universe required correction.” he grit out between deep breaths “After that, the stones served no purpose beyond temptation.”

“You murdered trillions!” Bruce yelled as he kicked Thanos against the wall of his shack.

“You should be grateful.”

Bruce punched Thanos again, and Katie moved forward to look down at him, and when she spoke her voice was shaky.

“Where are the stones?” She demanded, retracting her helmet.

“The stones are gone. Reduced to atoms.”

"You used them two days ago?” Katie bit back, not wanting to believe what he was saying, desperate for him to be lying.

“I used the stones to destroy the stones.” Thanos looked down at his arm which was horrifically burnt right up to his neck. “It nearly killed me. But the work is done, it always will be.”

She glanced at Steve, whose face had slipped ever so slightly. The Captain took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers which were now filling with tears as the magnitude of the situation sunk in. The stones were gone, and without him, there was nothing they could do.

“I am inevitable.” Thanos breathed out, and at his words a dark hopelessness flooded Steve’s system as Rhodey began to desperately stutter.

“We’ve got to tear this place apart! He…he..has to be lying,”

But as Steve turned to look Thanos, he could tell instantly he wasn’t.

“My father is many things.” Nebula said softly, stepping forward as she looked down sadly. “A liar is not one of them.”

“Ah, thank you, daughter.” Thanos looked at her and praised, “Perhaps I treated you too harshly.”

At that point, Thor gave a growl and swung his axe aggressively and with a single swipe, he took off the Titan’s head, and Steve could do nothing but look down at the headless body, his chest heaving.

“What?” Rocket gasped, “What did you do?”

Thor was silent before he looked round the room and his eyes locked with Katie’s “I went for the head.” He answered simply before he turned and left.

“Thor?” Katie called out shakily stumbling after her friend. “Thor? Where are you going?”

“It is over. There is nothing more we can do.” His voice cracked as he turned to face her, placing his hand on her shoulder as he looked her square in the face. “I bid you farewell Little Stark.” With that he dropped a soft kiss onto her cheek and stared straight into her face, his eyes full of tears. “You have a big heart, full with fire. Never let that fire go out.”

And with that he held his axe high above his head. The Bi-Frost engulfed him and in seconds he was gone.

Katie’s legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor, numb. Thor was right, it was over. And there was nothing they could do about it. She jumped slightly as a hand dropped to her shoulder and she spun to see Steve, his eyes shining with his own tears, face giving away the devastation he felt inside as he knelt besides her, pulling her to him.

This was it, the absolute end of any hope they had.

****

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The pummelling noise his fists were making on the punching bags was like a mantra in Steve’s mind. With every blow he was landing, a different person and how he had failed them flashed in front of his eyes.

Katie, their baby, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Tony…

This had always been his standard way of coping. When the pressures of his new life got to be too much, and he couldn’t sleep or cope, he would take out his anger on a punch bag or by running, but as the years had gone he had started to do it less and less, until he had pretty much stopped altogether.

In fact, he hadn’t done this really in any real anger, since Katie had gone missing, but then he hadn’t felt as angry and as useless as he did right now since then.

He pulled back his right fist and gave a particularly violent punch, scattering sand from the bag all over the floor. That one had hurt. He stopped, glanced down at his fist and grimaced. His knuckles were split wide open.  

“Steve?”

He heard Katie’s voice and he took a deep breath, grabbing the bag in front of him with his hand as he pressed his forehead against it, the bag gently spilling its contents onto the floor.  

“Stevie?” She repeated, stepping close and saw that her Soldier was trembling from head to toe, his T-shirt soaked with sweat as it clung to his body, his hair plastered to his forehead.  For a moment he didn’t speak, until he took a deep breath, and Katie almost didn’t hear him his response was that quiet.

“It’s my fault.”

Katie took a deep breath, blinking back her tears. Steve had been stoic since they had returned to the compound almost four weeks ago. But now, here he was stood before her, completely undone, his every part of his soul was dripping with guilt.

“We failed, remember?” Her voice shook at little as she took a step towards him, reaching out for his arm, but he jerked away, glancing at his hands which were trembling, blood dropping from his split knuckles to the floor.

He continued to look down, avoiding her gaze and gave a derisive snort. “Appropriate huh, blood on my hands. What kind of father would I have ever made?”

Before Katie could stop herself she’d slapped him across the face, hard enough to whip his head around to the side. His eyes widened slightly, the shock of the blow worse than the actual slap itself, but still he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

"Don’t.” She managed to say, stumbling over her words as her voice cracked. “Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you fucking dare!”

Steve shuddered as her words bounced off the walls of the gym and he finally looked at his wife. Katie’s anger drained away instantly and she reached up, cupping his face and smoothing the cheek she had slapped.

“Steve,” she looked straight into his eyes, “Tony always told me as a kid that as long as you can tell yourself honestly you did the best you could, then there is nothing else left for you to do. And we did the best we could.” She took a huge shuddering breath. “Yes, it wasn’t good enough but that is not on you, okay?” Her hands tightened their hold on his face as her own tears fell in time with his. “You’ve led us through thick and thin, been there, taken countless hits for us. The Avenger’s couldn’t have asked for a better Captain and I…” her voice cracked again as Steve stepped into her embrace and she whispered her last sentence into his ear, “I couldn’t wish for a better husband to be by my side.”

Steve buried his face in his wife’s hair, breathing in her familiar smell as the damn broke inside him and he simply cried until he had no more tears left to shed, Katie doing the same as she pressed her faced into his chest, her hands tightly fisting in his damp shirt.

“I don’t deserve you.” He croaked eventually. And he didn’t. She was so brave, strong and pure hearted. What had he ever done to be worthy of that?

“Yes, you do.” She sniffed, looking up at him. “You’re a good man Steve, and you’re my man. I love you more and more with each day that goes by.”

She slid her hands up to his cheeks again and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, relishing her touch, allowing it to calm him the way it always did. Eventually, her hands moved down to take his, and she pressed a soft kiss to the ring on his left hand.

“Til the end of the line.” She whispered, before she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close once more, her hands gently brushing through his hair as she soothed him softly, her lips brushing his cheek.

They stood there for a little while, neither speaking, Steve simply seeking out the comfort she was offering before she stepped back into his eye-line and reached up once more, brushing the tears off his cheek.

“Come on, Soldier.” She leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “You need to rest.”

Steve didn’t argue, he was exhausted. Her fingers of her right hand tangled with his left, gently so as to not aggravate his bruised and battered hands, and he allowed her to lead him from the room.

**** Chapter 41 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[lugialagia]

New Year Eve

Summary : Peter is bothering Wade to come to Tony’s party for new year eve. Wade finally accepts. Will Tony accept the relationship between his adopted-like son and the mercenary? Ship/Pairing : Spideypool (Peter x Deadpool)

Words : 2;084

TW! : Light swearing (l mean, it’s Wade)

PURE FLUFF

"Come on Wade, please!" Peter whined. "Petey, we already talked about it." Wade sighed. "You know that kind of party isn't something for me." It had been already two weeks that Peter was trying to persuade Wade to come to Tony's new year eve party. This once, Tony had pushed aside his extravagance and put on something simple; 'family diner' with the Avengers. Despite the small comity, Wade didn't want to come. Now, Peter was really starting to beg him since it was in two days.

"Please Wade. It's been two years that I want to introduce you and I think it's the right moment. I told everyone that I'd come with someone." Peter tried again. "It's not a good idea. Everyone knows who I am and I don't think I'm welcomed in the Superman team." Wade replied with a snort. "Superman? Anyway...alright." Peter gave up. "You let me ridicule myself in front of everyone and we'll be away from each others on the new year eve." Peter sighed.

Then, the youngest walked away with a pout. He wasn't really angry, he still had two days to convince his lover, but with one more refusal, his heart was shattering a bit more. The Avengers were like a family for Peter, so they needed to know about them, he didn't want to hide anymore. And everything went well with aunt May, so why Wade was he afraid? If May accepted him, everyone would too. "Oh no baby, don't pout. You know I can't resist this." Wade whined.

"That's exactly why I'm doing this." Peter thought but stayed silent. Wade stopped in front of him and lifter his lover's head up. Peter's expression didn't move an inch. Finally, Peter's sad eyes made the mercenary give up. "Alright! You got me!" Wade said like it was a game. "I'll come to your irreprochable superheroes party." he huffed. "Thanks Wade!" Peter grinned, jumping into his lover's arms.

* * *

The party was about to start in an hour. Wade was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his bowtie with anger. "Seriously, look at that outfit, l look fucking dumb, Peter." Wade groaned. "And that fucking bow tie that doesn't want to-" "Stop it. You're perfect in this." Peter cut him and helped him with the bow tie, kissing his cheek when he was done. "Come on, we should go or we'll be late. It's already been twenty minutes since you're trying to place your bow." Peter mocked with a chuckle.

Wade mumbled and groaned all the way downstairs. Once behind the steering weel, he was calmer even if he could feel stress starting to build up inside him. He was afraid to be rejected by the others. Not that he would mind, he really didn't care, but that would hurt his little Spidey and that, he didn't want. The whole drive was animated by insults coming from Wade's mouth such as 'move on asshole!' or 'it was fucking red piece of shit!'. Well, it was Wade.

When they finally arrived in front of Tony's house, Peter stepped out of the car and Wade did the same with a long sigh, wishing that everything would go well. He would try to be good and nice. Try. Maybe. As they entered the nice mansion, Friday's voice greeted them. "Mr.Parker, Mr.Wilson, welcome into Mr.Stark's penthouse. Mr.Stark and his guests are waiting for you in the lounge." the AI informed. "Thanks Friday." Peter replied.

The young male took the mercenary's hand to reassured him, but also to reassured himself. He was terrified at the thought of his family rejecting his boyfriend. Even more Tony since he was his mentor. And also Natasha. She looked cold and impassible, but she was melting for Peter. She had taken him under her protection almost as soon as she saw him. Peter led Wade to the lounge where everyone was already there, sipping on their drink or on the couches. As soon as they set foot in the room, Wanda was the one to greeted them.

"Peter! It's been a little while." she smiled and hugged him. "Yeah sorry, I was a bit occupied lately." Peter replied rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I see." Wanda said back with a glance at Wade. She then held her hand out toward the mercenary. "Wanda Maximoff." Wade shook her hand back. "Wade Wilson." he introduced himself with a tiny smile. "Want a drink?" Wanda asked. "Not for me." Peter replied. "Yeah a scotch would be good." said the older man and Peter elbowed him. "Please." Wade corrected himself.

With these words, Wanda went to serve Wade his drink while the couple walked toward Tony, Steve and Thor. As soon as he saw Peter, a large grin spread on Thor's lips. The God liked Peter a lot because he was reminding him of Loki at his age. Tony turned around and his expression was...unreadable. It was a mix between surprise, fury, deception and a protective vibe. Peter introduced Wade to the three of them, whom shook their hands. Once done, Tony wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders and took him away. "Seriously kiddo? He's your boyfriend?" Tony asked like he didn't believe it. "Yes, why? Something is wrong with that?" Peter asked back curiously. "Yes something is very wrong! He's a mercenary, he's not made for you. You're too...too pure for him. And he's older." Tony stated.

"Tony, I can assure you that Wade isn't the same with me." Peter reassured him. "Peter, listen-" "No, Tony. I know you want to protect me, but can you make a step toward him? Please, try to know him. You'll see that he's treating me right." For once, Tony dumbfounded. It was rare for Peter to talk to him like this. So, to not be a 'grumpy old dad' he sighed, murmuring a small 'alright'. They then walked back toward the men right in time with Wanda giving Wade his drink.

"So...you're a mercenary, huh?" Tony asked coldly. Peter sent him a glare, disappointed by it. Wade, of course, wasn't even phased by the cold tone. He took a sip of his drink before replying to the billionaire. "Yup, that's it. While you save the world from mad men from space, I'm cleaning up the city for good old bad guys." he replied calmly. "So you're saying that you're a superhero there?" Tony asked with a scoff. "I never said that." Wade replied with a dark smirk.

Feeling problems coming, Steve decided to interrupt. "Anyway! I'm glad to meet you, Wade. It's been a while that Peter is talking about you. It's nice to see that you finally came." Well, problems avoided! The little group parted away after a few minutes to talk to others. Peter and Wade were just here, waiting. "I think that your Iron Daddy doesn't really appreciate me." Wade scoffed a bit. "Wade...you're not one that I should go out with, I think it's normal that he's worried." Peter replied softly.

"Am I not frequentable? Oh darling, you're breaking my poor little heart." Wade declared, faking a heart break. "You now what I'm talking about and-" Peter was suddenly interrupted. "Well well, look at that. Isn't it the little spider boy?" said a smooth voice behind them. The couple turned around to see the God of Mischief. "Oh hey Mr.Loki!" Peter greeted with a large smile. "That's Wade." he said as he introduced his boyfriend.

Wade held a hand out toward the God. Peter told him that Loki was now teaming up with the Avengers, somehow saying that he had been controlled during the invasion. But the merenary wasn't very convinced by it. Though, he told Peter that he would make some effort tonight. Loki stared at Wade's hand with disdain. He wouldn't touch the mortal. "Is that the mortal you like?" Loki asked to Peter, ignoring Wade completely. Before the young man could even open his mouth, Wade stepped forward. "Yeah I'm his boyfriend, and as you should know, Mister I'm a fucking God, I'm not mortal and I'd kick your ass for talking to me like that."

Loki arched a brow at the reply since he didn't expect this kind of reaction. The God could see the distress in the boy's eyes. He was probably expecting for it to finish in blade and blood and didn't know what to do. Loki would never admit it out loud, but he liked the kid. Because Peter was always impressed by his magic trick, would it be simple or very elaborated, even when he was showing his combat skills and illusion. And he also was the only one to have greeted him nicely when he arrived. So, he would make an effort and not smash that poor non-mortal's head to the wall. "Well, who said I cannot kill you like a pitiful fly?" he asked with a smirk.

In the end, everything went well because of Loki's efforts. Peter noticed it and he would definitely thank him later. Wade and Loki must admit that they were both happy to have met and talked. Their minds were much alike, they liked each others jokes, torture and killing methods and Peter listened to them without paying much attention, creating a small bubble of happiness around him went he saw his lover becoming friend with the lonely God.

Once they were all around the table, tensions between Tony and Wade were already gone. At first, aprehension was still here and the billionaire was always glancing at the couple, more to check out on Peter. But as time passed by, he was noticing the little attentions that Wade had toward him. The mercenary was filling his glass when he needed to, he was glancing at him tenderly, caressed his arm or held his hand as they waited for the next meal. Peter was right. Wade wasn't that bad. It was then that Tony started to talk with him without any animosity behind.

* * *

When the countdown was about to start, everyone was outside on the balcony, waiting for the firework that would pop when it would reach zero. They were all screaming the numbers from ten. Then, dozen of lights were lightening up the dark sky. Wade gripped Peter's waist and instantly kissed him passionately. "Happy new year, kitten." he whispered. "Happy new year, darling." Peter replied with a large smile.

As soon as the firework was over, the Avengers wished each others a happy new year before going back inside to dance. It was party time and for once, no one was in a bad mood. Even Loki who didn't really want to dance, ended up dancing a bit with the others. Then, came the slow dance. Peter let go Wanda and Wade let go Natasha to find each others again. Wade placed his hands on the boy's waist and Peter wrapped his arms around the older's neck. They moved on the slow rhythm, their bodies tangled like two puzzle pieces.

The couple was in their own little bubble, like they were alone in the world. However, the Avengers were all watching them. "They're cute together." Natasha whispered to Tony. "Mhmm. I wasn't very fond of it at first and I understand why Peter didn't introduce me to him for a while, I would have forbid him to see the guy." he agreed. "But now I can see that they're made to be one." Tony continued as he watched them dance.

Peter's head was stuck on Wade's chest and their slow steps were soothing him. He was slowly drifting off to sleep. Of course, Wade quickly noticed his body starting to go limp in his arms. "Petey pie? We're gonna go home, alright? You're falling asleep on me." he said with a chuckle. Peter barely nodded his head, mumbling a small 'alright'. The mercenary lifted his lover up in his arms before walking toward the door.

"Thanks for the night." Wade said to the others. "Come to ours when you want, l'm sure Peter will be happy." Then, Tony called for him before he could walk out. "Wade. Take care of him." he said seriously. "This kid is like my own. If anything happens to him, I'll say you're responsible of it and I swear I'll find a way to kill you." Tony threatened. Wade laughed, even if he knew that the genius was serious, but he couldn't help but laugh when someone threatened him. "Promise, Stark."

[jasmehraj]

For Flashpoint week 2020, day:2 "I'm your wife Barry!" @maribatgetin

Barry jolted awake and his gaze fell on the computer screen in front of him.

Amazonians at war with Atlantians, when will we get peace?

He let out a confused noise and went out of his office.

"Going to your Mrs. so soon? You sure miss her a lot." His companion asked. Barry furrowed his brows. Nobody ever said something like that to him. 

He didn't answer but ran outside. Everything looked different. He scratched his head in confusion. "What is happening?" He mumbled to himself.

"Maybe I should go to Iris office." He said to no one in particular and made his way towards her office.

"How can I help you?" The familiar lady on the reception asked him with no emotion or sign of recognition on her face.

"Seriously Hannah? I'm Barry I-" he cut himself off when he found Iris standing a few feet away from him.

"Thank you. There's no problem now." He had only taken a step towards her when another man with a small girl in his hands went to his wife and kissed her.

His eyes widened, the family made their way to the door, laughing and joking. Panic took over him.

But he didn't reach far as a very familiar voice that he had longed to hear, stopped him in his tracks. 

"Barry? What are you doing here honey?" He couldn't believe his eyes so he grabbed his mother's shoulders, and hugged her. She was real. She was here.

His mother chuckled. "Thank you for the hug Barry, but what are you doing here? Marinette is trying to find you everywhere!"

"Mom I- wait, Marinette? Who's Marinette?" A car pulled next to them before his mother could answer.

A bluenette came out of it and hugged his mother, "Oh my God, it's been such a long time. Why don't you come live with us?"

His mother chuckled, "You already know sweetie, it will be too lonely, I don't want to be a third wheel-" 

The woman's eyes softened, "You are like a mother to me, you are Barry's mother. You are the only mother figure I have. We love you. You are not a third wheel." He could see tears in her eyes.

His mother wiped her tears and pointed at him, "I found Barry."

The woman looked at him and a look of mock anger took over her features.

"Bartholomew Henry "Barry" Allen You are in so much trouble." He freely showed his confusion.

"And who are you?" That seemed to be the wrong question as his mother raised a disappointed eyebrow.

"Uhhh you must be umm.. Marinette! Yes, Marinette. It's nice to meet you umm... mam?" He tried.

"I'm your wife." She answered crossing her arms over her chest.

"But I don't even know you!" He whisper shouted.

"I think you should solve this at your home." His mother said, watching the increased crowd around them.

Marinette sighed and opened the car door and motioned with her head to get inside.

Barry felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked into its direction to find his mother's gaze at him. She nodded and whispered to Barry, "She's been through a lot. Don't joke about such things, or she will start doubting herself again."

He sat in the back of the car. They drove off.

"You don't have to work there you know. We can open our own company. Not that it matters." She chuckled. The ride was silent.

Barry noted his own clothes were looking expensive. The car looked expensive too. His wife, Marinette, was beautiful. She had midnight hair pulled in a ponytail, Bluebell eyes and a charming smile which got dimmer and dimmer along the ride. He couldn't help but feel guilty. They pulled in front of a big gate.

She motioned him to get out. They started their small walk towards the very big mansion. How did he get that rich again?

"I went to Cyborg again. He refused to take me in, just like you wanted. I want to fight those-those." She let out a long exhausted sigh.

"You won. Now I am not going to any war-" another sigh "-I'm sorry, Barry. Please, please" he realised she was crying and side hugged her awkwardly.

"Please.. do-don't leave *sob* me." He himself was conflicted. Just like his mom said, she is doubting herself and saying sorry for something she didn't even do.

"I promise I will- I will not- not try to fight anyone. Just- please-I forgive me-" He put a finger on her face. She stopped and gave him a very fake smile and wiped her tears clearly not satisfied. 

They reached the mansion and she led him to the living room.

"What did I do wrong?" He looked at her in her eyes. Something about her screamed him to tell her.

"I'm the Flash." She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"The Flash, the hero of Central City?" He said but got no reaction out of her.

"There's no hero by the name of Flash in Central City." She crushed his whole world at once.

"W-what?" He felt the world around him spin. What happened? He took out zoom just yesterday, what is going on? His mother is alive, he is a billionaire, this woman claims to be his wife….

-no need to read this part of you don't want to read the kiss scene

He was pulled out of his daze when he felt something soft against his lips, he cupped his hands over her face and melted into her kiss, she smelled like strawberry cake? Cookies? She tasted like, he tasted her properly by shoving his tongue in her mouth. He doesn't care what she tasted like, she just tasted good, like Iris,

-you can read from here.

When he realized what he was doing, he broke the kiss and tried to catch his breathe. He felt his head pound as his head was filled with flashbacks with Marinette, all the time they spent together. He thought about Iris, but felt nothing. His heart didn't flutter like it would have before the kiss, and when he looked at Marinette, he felt himself overwhelmed by the emotions. He realized he was clutching his head and so was she. He went to her side. She was breathing heavily.

She took a deep breath and looked at him, eyes wide. He hugged her, knowing how bad he's messed up from the last 4 hours. 

"I'm sorry Mari. I didn't mean to say those things." They looked outside. It was almost dark.

"Save everything. I just want to go to bed." She stood up and then looked at him, "You coming?" 

He was feeling very guilty for her lost smile, her each tear, now that he knew how much they meant to each other. So he just couldn't say no. He smiled at her and she gave an exhausted one back. He looked outside.

How did it get so dark? Wasn't it like 4-5 pm when they came back?

He went to his room now that he had memories of this world and changed his clothes.

He went to the big queen size, wow how is this so fluffy? Marinette came in, in black shorts and a comfortable t-shirt. Is it okay to say she's looking beautiful? She's his wife? But this world is wrong. She sat next to him.

"I just had a- like a memory? Which never happened? Like other worldly?" She admitted.

He looked at her as it all clicked, "This is an alternate timeline. Someone tipped off the whole timeline."

"Which created an alternate reality but why did you remember it all? Why now?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"I had powers, I could run faster than the speed of the light, my power also helped me vibrate through things and I can go back in time too." She didn't interrupt him. Listening like they aren't talking about other worldly stuff.

"Zoom was my opposite? He was the reverse Flash, my nemesis. He is a speedster too. He did it. He must have changed the timeline." He tapped his finger on his chin.

"I saw a creature, a small one coming out of my earrings, me fighting monsters in polka dotted costume with a boy in cat costume." She touched her black earrings. 

He looked at them carefully, "The one you always wear."

"Precisely, My parents never got killed, I saw my childhood. That's it. But I caught some words I said again and again. Tikki, spots on." Light engulfed the room. Barry had to cover his eyes to stop the light.

When he opened them, she was sitting right where she was, just in a red uniform with polka dots. "Tikki spots off." The uniform disappeared.

"Tikki…" she whispered, nothing happened. 

He stood up, "I need to fix this."

"Where are you going?"

"To Batman."

"You know who Batman is?"

"Yes." With that he was out of there.

Permanent Taglist: @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @togetherwekill @stackofrandomstuff @qualitypeacepainter @greatcatblaze @shewhorises-tjyj @myazael

Taglist: @galla02006 @toodaloo-kangaroo

[tomb-bloom-noctem]

Were there any episodes in season 3 where you felt they could've been written better? I'm only asking because I had some ideas I wanted to share with people about fixing them since, to me, the season started becoming a mess around The Phantom and the Sorceress. And the episodes don't need to be outright bad, there could just be parts in it you didn't like.

Oof. I've been a bit loud and obnoxious about certain episodes for sure 😅 I'll try to briefly sum up a few.

Also I'm just gonna say, some of these are just I don't like what they did rather than any huge fundamental problems like the finale.

Also disclaimer. This is not an attack on anyone who likes these episodes! Nobody has to agree with me! If you like these episodes cool! Glad you got something out of it! This is just Tombs being a nit pick loud mouth.

Rumble for Ragnarok

I can't complain too much about this one as it was still entertaining. Norse is part of my heritage and I'm a fan of the mythology which was on full display this episode. My only real issue this episode is that the message gets a little lost at least on me. And then two is I think out of all the episodes this one is the one that could absolutely be thrown out without losing anything really important. Trade this episode for something different. Something more important.

The Forbidden Fountain of the Forever Glades

Scrooge's behavior and leaving Webby in the jungle was painful to watch. (Much as I don't like the finale twist, the twist actually makes this episode worse.) [Also so much for Goldie's "fresh start" when in Split Sword of Swanstitine later showed she once again attempted to double cross Scrooge. Yeah. Fresh start. Totallyyyy.] Goldie is a fun character and I can't hate her too much. The episode has its merits and definitely still think this episode should be around but Scrooge's behavior here really kills me. Thankfully at the end he does better but ugh. It's low on the overall ranking for me based on how he behaves and treats Webby.

New Gods on the Block

I actually really love this episode but Storkules was pissing me off too much 😂 Nit pick for sure. I love this himbo but got dangit he was making me so mad. I get it was kinda important for the overall plot but come on we got so little Donsy content that it was frustrating that he was so intrusive.

The First Adventure

Nit picking again. I think it's kinda random how in the span of a few hours a hard ass like Scrooge went from "my obnoxious niece and nephew" to "my heirs and beloved family." I guess it's possible but not a fan of that kind of writing. For me it would make more sense that they had several adventures or at least more time with them before they became "his heirs" in his eyes. Extreme nit picking on my part though, the episode isn't bad at all really. Also no Hortense and Quackmore. Yes they were named. (Or she was) No we never got to see them. Rude! This was actually a really good episode though overall again I just have some minor nit picks.

The Fight for Castle McDuck

Okay this one is also kind of a nit pick but it's more like based on the episode's timing. I think it is absolutely ridiculous that Webby "Knower of all things Clan McDuck" has no idea that a family of Scots fights a lot. I can somewhat forgive it though as she's young and isn't as familiar with this side of the family in the flesh. But it's so weird how this late into the show we're seeing this?? I think I would have liked this episode more if it had popped up earlier into season 3 rather than so late? It just was a kinda weird episode and not the most enjoyable but the timing I think made it worse. Also the no mention of Hortense again. Referring to Matilda as the youngest when that's supposed to be Hortense? It's really not the worst episode. It just feels a bit off to me and again to me mostly the timing of it. Could have been better, could have been worse.

How Santa Stole Christmas

THROW THIS EPISODE INTO THE FUCKING GARBAGE. HATE HATE HATE IT. THIS ONE ACTUALLY MAKES ME RAGE.

This episode is actually worse for me than the finale. Literally I consider this episode the worst in the series. I just hate it!!!

I hate that this episode was about Scrooge and Santa. I really don't give a fuck why Scrooge hates Santa and this story in no way compelled me. (Also why was Scrooge and Santa's dialog weirdly shippy??? Thanks to this episode got another huge NOtp, "scranta" is gross, sorry, hate it. Absolutely cannot board that ship at all, I have the tag blocked.) I see absolutely no reason why this was the story we got when there was literally an option to follow up The Last Christmas now that Della was finally home????? MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!! I hate the weird crazy ass capitalist message going on throughout the episode, I get Scrooge is a capitalist himself but he didn't change from this episode? He walked away from Jennifer's obvious poverty life and went "ah as long as she's happy" instead of I don't know, maybe a message about helping the less fortunate??

Look maybe I'm just bitter from my own life. I've lived in extreme poverty my whole life. My parents home has literally looked so much liked the ruined place Jennifer lived in during the episode. And I live in Alaska so I KNOW COLD. I know how it feels to go cold for days on end, no food, no water, nothing. Extreme poverty. Scrooge could have done something. He wasn't like Donald who doesn't have much either. He's a freaking billionaire. He could have helped. And instead the message he walked away with is "if you're happy life is fine" or something. Whatever the message that was supposed to be from this episode is completely lost on me because all I see is a miserable rich old miser who hates letting kids have fun and won't help someone in need. Absolute garbage episode. I really wish they had instead just followed up on The Last Christmas. Or had some kind of family centric episode at least! I seriously fucking hate this episode so much. I would legit erase this episode if I could it is the WORST.

The Lost Cargo of Kit Cloudkicker

Nit pick again. Didn't love what they did with Kit. Okay I get the idea he grew up to idolize Baloo so he turned out more like him. It...wasn't great. Didn't like that much at all. Felt like they just tried to shove Kit into a DT87/DWD Launchpad mold. I didn't love that Baloo and Kit's relationship was mentioned weirdly casually? Like Kit called himself Baloo's sidekick??? Except in Talespin Kit calls him Papa Bear??? Also great, got another tag to block from this episode, the delkit ship. Not a fan, thanks.

Kinda weird for me with this episode I didn't really catch the meaning of it. To me it felt like the message was "defy expectations...by meeting them." It didn't really click and I kinda hated it for that plus the weird characterization of Kit. Actually I was on Twitter and someone was complaining about this episode and I responded in agreement and then FRANK REPLIED TO US 😅😅😅. Frank explained that the point was more of "if you're good at something, don't give it up" rather than "you can do anything you set your mind to" type message that appears a lot in kids media. (Also Frank please don't look at me when I'm criticizing the show 😂😂😂😂😭 I promise overall I do love it I'm just a loud mouth when I don't like something some times 😅)

After Frank explained that it did click a little better and I can see the message a bit more clearly. But I'm still not really in love with this episode like I wanted to be. I freaking love Talespin so that was a bummer. But as I've said a dozen times. I'm mostly nit picking my personal opinion.

The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck

Another one I wanted to like more than I actually did. And mostly this boils down to Louie having to apologize to Doofus when Doofus is the one who's like some wild sociopath or something. I get it Louie hasn't been completely innocent towards Doofus. He did try to use him and con him but Doofus flat out has tried to hold him captive and torture and even kill him. Doofus' sins outweigh Louie's. Louie having to apologize to prevent the tension and all just...feels like victim blaming? This one is harder for me to describe why I don't like it and I think others have explained it better than me. I think it could have been better if Louie AND Doofus both apologized and agreed to start over and let what happened between them before be water under the bridge. At least this way they're equals? Maybe it wouldn't have been the best fix but I feel it would have been better than Canon. This one I don't want to call a nit pick. This one feels like there is something fundamentally wrong with it but I struggle to explain. Mostly other than that though I think the episode was fine. A little weird that the karma court scale needed to be told the villains hearts rather than able to just know them (mostly looking at the Ma Beagle one here) but that part is more nit pick.

And finally...The Last Adventure

I have things I love about it. The individual character moments. The references and call backs. The music. This finale was clearly made with love and care.

But that damn Webby clone daughter thing twist changes things. I know some people say it doesn't but to me it does! I feel it messed with the family dynamic and the characters in a needless way. I feel it didn't add anything to but rather did take away from. I don't wanna say too much on it as there's already been so much talk on it so in keeping it brief- not a fan, didn't like, why the hell, no.

The thing with Bradford kinda threw me off too. His logic and insistence on not being a villain made him so interesting. He was truly a villain to rival Scrooge. Then in my opinion he was pushed into a weird middle ground. He didn't feel like he completely abandoned what he previously stood on but also didn't go full villain either? I get a villain like Bradford isn't easy. The writers have to truly bring their all for someone like him. But Bradford suddenly getting armor and the Split Sword and becoming a battling giant was kinda ????? inducing. Threw me for a bit of a loop. I probably need to watch this episode a few more times before I finally settle on where I sit with the Bradford thing but at least at this time I just feel kinda mixed on it. Maybe I missed something there.

Other nit picks from the finale. Donald's writing was a little weird, he sounded like he was going on vacation but then Della said he was moving out and Donald talked like "well you have the boys and Uncle Scrooge..." it just really sounds like he's leaving the family?????????? Especially at a time like this? Rude! I mean yes somebody please get this man a vacation but the writing here left me kinda confused and there is no reason Donald would ever just leave and act like "oh well their mom is back so my work here is done." Nope. DADnald for life.

Lena and Webby never getting shown to have made up after their fight. I imagine the giving June and May the friendship bracelets kinda implies it but come on. Even just a hug would have been good. Also...why are they giving up their friendship bracelets??? Confused, not a fan.

And also...in addition to the Clone twist, I really don't love that April, May, and June were all clones instead of Daisy's nieces. I really wanted to get to see them in the show and now I just feel like thanks I hate it! I admire the guts to make a twist like this and all but I really hate it.

Overall please let me say I LOVE Ducktales. The show as a whole to me is a huge important thing I love. This isn't an attack on anyone who likes these episodes. I am just once again being loud and obnoxious with my own opinions and nit picks and things I just would have liked to see or not see.

no idea if any of this rambling answers your question Anon but here you go. Hope it works.

[quakerjoe]

Is America really ready to reclaim democracy?

I’m going to share a fact with you — and you’re not going to like it.

America’s problems can be reduced to the following. White Americans want America to be a failed state — and that is its fundamental, deep, and long standing problem. That is how America ended up here — more than half a century of white hostility to any kind of social progress whatsoever — which resulted in social collapse, and culminated in Trumpism. White people made America a failed state.

But are white people ready to own this problem, of their own extremism? Is that long-term social position really about to change this election, finally, after more than half a century? Are white Americans ready to become a modern, functioning society? The answer, right about now, is a kind of hysterical “yes!” We all — all of us sane and thoughtful people anyways — want Biden to win, and put an end to the long nightmare of the Trump years. But — despite what the polls might say — how realistic is that?

“Kill Umair! Get him!!!” Maybe you’re foaming at the mouth, ready to dispute my simple fact. So take a hard look at the chart above. What does it say?

I have some bad news, and then I have some worse news. Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later. The first piece of bad news is this. Here’s a fact that most people underestimate. America is still about 80% white. 80%. Given the record-breaking turnout, this election is going to be more about America’s white majority than about minorities, probably, at least if every group turns out in record numbers roughly equally. Minorities have much less power than many imagine, precisely because they are still seriously in the…minority. This election is about white America, and if it really wants to live in a democracy — or if it’s happier living in a fascist society.

You might think that sounds over the top, so here’s the worse news. The chart above says this. It says that white Americans, as a group, have never, as a group, voted for a Democratic President. Never in modern history. In fact, the chart above in fact understates the problem. This trend goes back to JFK and perhaps before. Are you beginning to see the problem here? Why I say “America’s problem is that white people want it to be a failed state?”

Let me make it clearer. White Americans can be relied on, in the majority, as a group, to “vote Republican.” I put it in quotes because it’s worth examining what that anodyne statement really means. Liberal, sane, thoughtful White Americans often overestimate how many of them there are, how widespread their cause is. The result is that when I say “Americans are…” meaning of course the majority, which is still white, I get a wave of protest. Americans aren’t dumb! Americans aren’t dumb! They’re not violent, stupid racists! They want to live in a modern society! Are they, do they — at least the white majority? Let’s take a brief and hard look at reality.

Here are some things white Americans have been for, as a group, in their majority. Segregation. Endless war. Inequality. Billionaires. Capital. Guns and religion as primary social values. That is what the voting pattern above means. Conversely, here are some thing white Americans have been against, as a group, in their majority. Desegregation. Civil rights. Womens’ rights. Their own healthcare, retirement, and childcare. Public goods of any kind whatsoever. That is what the “voting pattern” above means in the real world. Need I go on? America’s problem is that white Americans as a social group, its majority social group, want America to be a failed state. They don’t want to live in a modern, civilised democracy, and never have.

White America is America’s problem. A big, white, ignorant problem. The problem of the white American voter — that white Americans don’t want to admit — goes back more than half a century at this point. If the answer is “Make America Great Again!” then the question is: “well, who brought it this point of self-destruction?” and the answer is….white Americans. They’re the ones responsible for the self-destruction of the society they still rule as a massive majority. Nobody else is responsible for their poverty, despair, and humiliation but them. That is what the chart above makes crystal clear.

Who voted, over and over again, to have worse lives? No healthcare, retirement, affordable education, childcare — no public goods of any kind whatsoever? White Americans did. What the? The question baffles the world. Why would anyone choose a worse life? The answer is that white Americans would not accept a society of true equals. “I won’t pay for those dirty, filthy peoples’ educations, healthcare, retirements! Why, their grandparents were my grandpappy’s slaves!” White Americans chose to retain power, supremacy, superiority, even in a failing society. They chose staying on top of decline and ruin, rather than prospering as equals.

Let me make that even clearer, by putting it in a global perspective. This is the part you’re really not going to like.

White Americans are the rich world’s most hostile, ignorant, violent, cruel, and selfish social group — by a very long way. “Voting conservative” after all doesn’t mean nearly the same thing in Europe or Canada. There, even conservative parties agree on the basics — people should have healthcare, education, retirement, that the only point of the public purse isn’t endless war and death machines. Conservatism in America is off the charts, and so “voting” that way carries a very different meaning. It means that White Americans are the rich world’s most regressive, ignorant, and self-destructive political bloc — by such a long way that they might as well not be in the rich world at all.

I don’t mean any of that as an insult, by the way. I mean it objectively, literally, factually. You’d think that by now White Americans would have figured out that voting against their own standards of living ever rising just because it meant black and brown people would have public goods too was…imbecilic. Especially watching Europe and Canada rise and prosper. They’ve had more than half a century to figure that out. But they still haven’t. What else do you call the inability to learn from the world and history but…ignorance?

Do you know what the word imbecile means? Someone who can’t look after themselves. But that’s what has happened: white people are the ones who wrecked their very own lives, futures, and society — beginning the moment, decades back, that minorities finally gained a few rights, in a giant, stupid, endless, escalating temper tantrum, that culminated in Trumpism.

I know this sounds insulting. But to speak factually and empirically about levels of self-destruction this immense requires us to reach beyond the lines of everyday discourse. Let me try again, then.

White Americans really are different. From their peers — or at least the people they believe are their peers. But the truth that their political choices over decades reveals is this. White Americans have almost nothing in common with White Europeans or Canadians — who back the expansive social contracts of social democracies reliably. White Americans reliably reject such choices, which is how they made their society collapse. instead, they have more in common with the ethnic-religious-fundamentalist majorities of nations like Iran, or the authoritarian-nationalist majorities of nations like Russia. They are regressive, sectarian, fundamentalist, unable to change, trapped by their own ideologies.

That is how and why America collapsed. Black People didn’t make it so. Brown People didn’t. Native Americans didn’t. America is still about 80% white, and white Americans make a certain choice reliably and consistently and predictably as a group — they vote “conservative,” but conservative in America doesn’t mean what it does in the rest of the rich world — it means something much more like Iran or Russia. Bang.

White Americans impoverished themselves, through decades of such folly. Voting against their very own basic public goods. Which meant they had to pay monopolists eye-watering prices for those very things which could and should have been socially provided — healthcare, higher education, retirement, and so on. Today, the average American dies in $62,000 of debt. Do you know what that predicted, a few years ago? A fascist implosion. When majorities grow impoverished, they turn even more regressive, violent, ignorant, and brutal. America’s white majority was already all those things — and then they became even more so.

A demagogue came along, Trump, who blamed white America’s problems on everyone but white Americans. Mexican babies. Black mothers. Latino immigrants. Syrian refugees. Gay minority couples. Everyone but white Americans was responsible for the plight of white Americans. But how could they be? America was and is still 80% white. Nobody was ever responsible for white America’s stunning plunge into poverty, humiliation, and despair — but white America.

But nobody wants to blame themselves, do they? It’s only human to project one’s failings onto others. So white America took Trump’s bait. And it was easier, too, to sell that line of nonsense, that racism, that prejudice, that bigotry, to a white majority that was already those things, and always had been. It was a self-reinforcing process, which was inevitable once America’s white middle and working class began to implode. Fascism was coming to America.

And it did.

Those of us who warned of it were called alarmists and hysterics and so on, when we warned of camps, genocide, bans, raids, purges. As all those things came to pass, and, sick to our stomachs, we survivors tried to warn all over again, we were mocked, shamed, and condemned. By white Americans. Even the good ones. We were told we were underestimating the power of white America to do the right thing.

But we understood something that white American never has about itself. White America has never done the right thing. Ever. At least not in modern history. White America, again, the chart shows us, has been for segregation and war and brutality — and against desegregation, women’s rights, civil rights, and so on. White America, as a group, as a majority, has never, ever voted for anything even slightly towards greater equality, justice, freedom, for all. It has only ever voted to preserve, maintain, and expand its own power. Ever.

White Americans — the good and reasonable ones — overestimate their social group so badly that they probably imagine a majority of white people voted for Obama. Wrong. Even Obama couldn’t win a majority of whites. The only candidate who came close was Bill Clinton — and even he failed. White Americans, again, never voted any way but fanatically “conservative”, which, in global terms, means more like majorities in Iran or Russia than Canada or Europe — regressive, ignorant, brutal, hostile, selfish, and supremacist, not modern, gentle, fair, wise, sophisticated, thoughtful, peaceful, tolerant.

White America’s escalating temper tantrum — its pattern of regressive voting — finally escalated in Trumpism. That is how all of America ended up here. Ruled by white America’s fascists and fanatics, too. Which even the sane and thoughtful white Americans despair at. But will they finally understand themselves? Can they look in the mirror once and for all?

We survivors and scholars have seen all this before — the phenomenon of the deceptive majority. By “deceptive majority,” I mean the idea that good and reasonable white Americans have about themselves. That as a majority, they are good and reasonable, and so goodness and sanity and reason will prevail in the end. They have not in America precisely because white Americans badly overestimate just how sane and reasonable their group in society is. How can they be, when they think guns matter more than healthcare and human rights?

I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. But again, I am only speaking to you factually, empirically, objectively. White Americans have voted over again and again for their guns and their Bibles — but they have never, ever voted as group to have healthcare or retirement for all or any single aspect of a functioning modern society whatsoever. Not to this day.

White America seemed to prefer supremacism and theocracy and authoritarian-fascism over modernity, as a social group. And that is how America ended up being a failed state. That, my friend, is the ugly and difficult fact.

That is the problem of the white American voter. And it spells real trouble.

Because when we say things like “Biden will win in a landslide!” what we are really saying is: white American as a group will, for the first time in modern history, not vote Republican. That they will, as a group, vote for something other than regressivism of the most extreme kind on offer. That the massive tide and force of history will suddenly turn on its head. That a decades long trend will simply reverse itself en masse, like never before.

We are asking for something greater than we may know — for history to deliver us a genuine transformation in long-standing political and social attitudes amongst a majority that has never, ever felt the way we wish them to. Who have never, ever been on the side of modernity or greater democracy or more civilization.

We are hoping for change of the deepest kind. Are we overconfident, then?

I’m not saying that a Biden landslide is impossible. But I am willing, at this stage, to call it unlikely. I don’t think white America is suddenly going to reverse decades of history. I think history has a terrible momentum and inertia, which doesn’t turn itself around so easily. I think social attitudes and political preferences don’t simply magically upend themselves overnight. I don’t think white America as a majority is going to back Biden. (If it does, it will be thanks to young people, though.)

Where does that leave us? Not in a very good place. The problem of the white American voter is very, very real. More real than white Americans know — which is precisely why their pundits and intellectuals never discuss it: they are giving their own social group’s regressivism and imbecility a free pass. But it’s the elephant in the room, just how different white Americans really are, as a group, in the majority, how regressive, cruel, hostile, ignorant, and backwards. That’s not an opinion — it’s a sad, terrible, frightening fact.

It’s possible that minorities will deliver the election for Biden. That’s if turnout for them is much, much higher than for whites. We don’t know, really, if that’s the case. I’d say while the chances are slim, they are very real.

More likely, though, is the following scenario. White America votes the way it always has as a group, as a majority — to screw everyone else over, as hard as possible, even if it itself pays a price. That will lead to three possible outcomes. One, an outright Trump victory. Two, a undecided election, which the Supreme Court will obviously hand to Trump. Or three, the most likely, in my estimation, months of chaos, as America tries to figure out what to do next, about the mess its in, and the GOP makes every grab for raw power.

And the protests of the good and thoughtful white Americans don’t help: “not all of us!” Sure, Chet, not all of you. But enough of you have been like this for most of modern history. Embittered, hostile, cruel, backwards.

Is that about to change? I don’t know, my friends. I doubt it, but I hope so. So why do I tell you this? Because we minorities are what we have always been: barely tolerated interlopers and hated intruders in the Promised Land. You, my white American friend, are the only one with the power to change any of it.

Umair October 2020

[chaoticdisater]

Red white & royal Blue Favourite quotes

“How many times do I have to tell Y’all not to discuss your murder plots in front of a sitting president” their mother interrupts “Plausible deniability. Come on” (Pg 64) 

I don't know WHO you think you're kidding, you Hufflepuff-ass bitch, (Alex to henry over text pg 69) 

“‘put the turkeys in my room’  ‘No.’ ‘put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room -’  later that night as Alex stares into the cold pitiless eyes of a prehistoric beast of prey, he has a few regrets” (Alex and his mother Pg 76) 

“’he- Oi! Not for you Mr.wobbles! those are mine!’ more rustling and a distant offended Meow, ‘no, Mr. wobbles you bastard!’” (Henry at his sister's cat, pg 80) 

“Dec 8, 2019, 8:53 PM  yo there's a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe HRH prince Dickhead  I BEG YOU TO NOT “ (Henry and Alex over text Pg 84) 

“’ the options Id like...’ he says dragging the words out. ‘they don't quite seem to be options at all’” (Henry Pg 107) 

“’ christ you're a thick as it gets’ he says and he grabs Alex's face in both hands and kisses him.” (Henry Pg 107) 

“‘Seventy-eight percent probability of latent Bi-sexual tendencies. one hundred percent probability this is not a hypothetical question’” (Nora pg 118) 

“‘am I? do you think I'm Bi?’  ‘I can't tell you that Alex!’ she says ‘that's the whole point!’” (Alex and Nora Pg121)

“she slants a look at him ‘is this a diabolical scheme of seduction?’ she asks ‘if so, yes.’“ (Nora Pg 130) 

“Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes henry onto it so hes sitting with his back against - Alex looks up and almost breaks into a deranged laugh - a portrait of alexander hamilton.” (Pg 132) 

“‘im going to die’ henry says helplessly.  ‘im going to kill you,’ Alex tells him.” (Henry and Alex pg 133) 

‘”and if you fucking ghost me again, I'm going to get you put on a fucking no-fly list. got it’” (Alex at henry pg 134) 

“worst of all, Henry is good“ (Alex's thoughts on henry playing Polo Pg 147) 

“’I’m gonna go, Uh’ Alex says ‘say hi to henry’ Amy's mouth settles into a grim line ‘Please don't elaborate’ ‘Yeah I know’ Alex says ‘plausible deniability’” (Alex and Amy Pg 148) 

‘A <agcd@eclare45.com>  to Henry  his royal highness prince of whatever,  Don't make me learn your actual title’ (Alex’s email to henry Pg 152) 

‘Henry <hwales@kensingtonemail.com>  to A Alex, first son of inappropriately timed Emails when I’m in early morning meetings’ (Henry’s email to Alex Pg 155) 

“when he shows up to a briefing two days later Zahra grabs his jaw with one hand and turns his head, peering closer at the side of his neck. ‘is that a Hickey’ Alex freezes. ‘I . . . um, no?’” (Zahra and Alex pg 162) 

“‘Do you have a last name?’ Alex has never actually offered a greeting when calling Henry  ‘What?’ the usual bemused elongated one-syllable response” (163 Alex and henry over the phone) 

“‘Baby’ its become a thing: Baby he knows it’s become a thing. hes slipped up and accidentally said it a few times, and each time, Henry positively melts” (Alex Pg 166) 

“‘I miss you,’ Alex says before he can stop himself he instantly regrets ut but henry says. ‘I miss you too’” (pg 173) 

“she flung her arm out emphatically enough to upset an entire potted cactus on her dresser and says ‘Because until now you weren't fucking the prince of England’” (June pg 177)  

“‘you should try saying some of that stuff to Him’  ‘stop trying to Jane Austen my life’” (June and Alex Pg 180) 

“’ is now a good time to point out henrys very hot Very rich best friend is basically in love with you?’ Alex says to June ‘hes like some kind of billionaire genius manic-pixie-dream philanthropist. I feel like you would be into that.’ ‘Please shut up,’” (Alex and June Pg 182)  

“‘yes, yes, Pez, we know there's nothing you cant do,’ says henrys voice off-camera ‘no need to rub it in’“ (henry Pg 184) 

“‘oh I haven't had vodka since uni,’ henry says ‘it tends to make me erm, well-’ ‘flamboyant?’ Pez offers. ‘uninhibited? randy?’  ‘Fun?’ Bea suggests  ‘Excuses you, I am loads of fun all the time! I am a Delight’“ (Henry Bea and Pez pg 190)

“’yes Beatrice, we shall behave in a manner befitting the crown,’ henry says. his eyes are slightly crossed ‘don't be a tosser’“ (Henry and bea Pg 195) 

“He likes taking henry apart but there's something incredibly intantament about sitting on the bed they wrecked the night before, the only one who watches him create Prince Henry of Wales for the day.” (Pg 200) 

“‘So this is the gang now, huh?’  and through it all, Alex realizes with a start: he has friends now.” (Cash pg 201) 

“How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose?” (Henrys email to Alex pg 203) 

“yours in sexual frustration  Henry” (henrys email to Alex pg 206) 

“once again, how had he ever convinced himself he was straight,” (Alex pg 213) 

“‘just so we’re clear,’ Alex said ‘Im about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family. Like that's what's happening?’“ (Alex pg 217) 

“your Brave I could use some of that” (Pg 218) 

“Because that's what he would do if he were here in this palace to fall in love Henry” (Pg 220) 

“Zahra doesnt even look up from her phone ‘that was my boyfriend and no, you may not ask me any further questions about him’” (Zahra Pg 223) 

“If he’s some anonymous normal person removed from history he’s twenty-two and he’s tipsy and he’s pulling a guy into his hotel room by the belt loop. He’s pulling a lip between his teeth and he fumbling behind his back to switch on a lamp and he’s thinking I like this person”  (Pg 228)

“You still are. Because you still bloody care so much.” He leans down and presses a kiss into Alex’s hair. “And you are good. Most things are awful most of the time but you’re good” (Henry Pg 230)

“’Seriously?’ She hisses ‘your literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state who is a man at the biggest political event before the election in a hotel full of reporters in a city full of cameras in a race close enough to fucking hinge on some bullshit like this like a manifestation of my fucking stress dreams and you’re asking me not to tell the president about it?’” (Zarha pg 233)

“The next slide is titled EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH THE PRINCE ENGLAND? she apologizes for not having time to come up with better titles Alex activity wishes for the sweet release of death” (Pg 237)

“History huh? I bet we could make some.” (Alex’s email to henry Pg 241)

“The pair of you share and an alarming number of traits by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c,” (herny’s email to Alex Pg 242)

“Regards Haplessly romantic heretic prince henry the utterly daft” (henrys email to Alex pg 243)

“‘It’s math,’ Nora says ‘Math has no authority here,’ June tells her ‘Math is everywhere June’” (Nora and June Pg 247)

“Henry is tipsy and shirtless and attempting to referee” (pg 252)

“’Some times you just jump and hope it’s not a chiff’” (Alex dad Pg 256)

“Well, Alex is so in love he could die.” (Pg 257)

“He’s been falling in love with Henry for years probably since he first saw him in glossy print on the pages of j14 almost definitely since Henry pinned Alex to the floor of a medical supply closet and told him to shut the hell up.” (Pg 257)

“’Fuck off five nine is average’” (Pg 258)

“’H?’ He whispers ‘you awake?’ Henry sighs ‘always.’” ( Pg 260)

“He’s got a distinct feeling of something being pulled out of his hands right before he could grasp it.” (Pg 263)

“something rises in Alex's throat - anger, confusion, hurt, bile. Unforgivably, he feels like he might cry” (Pg 270) 

“’Fuck I swear you don’t make it fucking easy but I’m in love with you’” (Alex Pg 271)

“’I never thought I’d be stood here faced with a choice I can’t make because I never ... I never imagined you would love me back’” (Henry pg 273)

“He’s in Henry’s face now if he’s getting his heart broken tonight he’s sure as hell going to make Henry have the guts to do it right ‘tell me you're done with me. I’ll get back on the plane. that's it. and you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fucking poems about it, whatever just say it’” (274)

“He’s in stupid unbearable love and Henry loves him too and at least for one night it matters, even if they both have to pretend to forget in the morning” (Pg 275)

“He tells his too fast brain: don’t miss this time he’s too important” (Alexs thoughts Pg 275)

“henry’s hands-on him are unhurried and soft and they make out lazily for hours or days.” (Pg 280) 

“Alex sighs ‘i don't think I told you but she uh. well, when she fired me she told me that if I wasn't a thousand percent serious about you. I need to break things off.’  Henry nuzzles his nose behind Alex's ear ‘a thousand percent?’” (Alex and Henry Pg 282) 

“‘Diaz you insane hopeless romantic little shit’ says the voice of the president of the united states, muffled in the bed ‘it had better be forever. Be safe’“ (Pg 284) 

“hes cut off mid-sentence because Alex has stopped in the middle of the corridor and yanked him backwards into a kiss” (pg 286) 

“’its funny’ henry says ‘i always thought of the whole thing as the most unforgivable thing about me but you act like its one of the best’“ (henry Pg 289) 

“he takes the chain off his neck and slides the ring on next to the old house key. they click together gently as he tucks them both under his shirt, two homes side by side” (Pg 291) 

“I opened my blasted mouth and said ‘because I'm not like the rest of the men in this family beginning with the fact that I'm am very deeply gay Philip’  once shaan managed to dislodge him from the chandelier Philip had quite a few words for me,” (Henry’s emails to Alex Pg 298) 

“just leaving, not coming back. maybe burning something down on the way out. it would be nice.” (henrys emails to Alex pg 299)

“I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire” (henrys emails to Alex (describing how he felt when he first saw Alex) Pg 300) 

“20. the fact that you have loved me all along.” (alex’s email to henry (the list of things alex loves about henry) Pg 303) 

“‘Oh my god Z what is That? did you get engaged?’  Zahra looks down at the ring and shrugs. ‘i had the week-end off’” (June and Zahra pg 305)

“’you and me and history, remember? were just gonna fucking fight. because your it okay? Im never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you,’“ (Alex pg 312) 

“‘I swear to god if you say I'm too young I'm gonna lose my shit,’“ (Alex pg 315) 

“What did he do ‘be more specific’“ (Alex to Zahra pg 321 ) 

“’the president is sitting down with as many members of the office of communitcs we could drag out of bed at three in the morning’” (Zahra Pg 323) 

“‘pack a bag’ she says ‘we’re going to londan’” (Zahra Pg 334)

“she (Zarha) seems confident Shaan will agree to it and willing to physically overpower him if not.” (pg 334) 

“still the cocky shit head part of him is slightly pleased to finally have claim on henry. Yep, the prince? Most eligible bachelor in the world? British accent face like a greek god, legs for days? Mine” (Pg 336) 

“‘youre giving my ulcer an ulcer’“ (Zahra pg 336) 

“‘Im running on nothing but black coffee, a wetzels pretzel, and a fistful of B12. Do not even breathe in my directrion,’“ (Zahra Pg 339) 

“He leans up and kisses the underside of his jaw, finding it rough from a full fitful day,” (pg 340)

“‘What kind of family, that says we’ll take the murder, we’ll take the raping and pillaging and the colonizing, well scrub it up nice and neat in a museum but oh no you’re a bloody poof? That’s beyond our sense of decorum’” (Henry pg 347)

“Bea seizes the pot of tea from the center of the table and dumps it into his lap ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry Pip’ she says grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him sputtering and yelping toward the door ‘so deardfully clumsy, you know I think all that cocaine I did must have really done a job on my refexes!’” (Bea pg 357)

“Henry pulls Alex close and kisses him whispers, ‘I love you I love you I love you’ and it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees.” (Pg 358)

And that’s when I gave up I do have more but well I didn’t want to make this list any more

[cornholio4]

Ladybug is Team Cap

@nobodyfamouspostsAuthor’s Note: This is based on a post some time ago on Tumblr by Nobodyfamousposts or ChaoticNeutral on AO3 talking about how Marinette would be Anti Accords. I decided to go with this and while I understand points made by Pro Accords and Team Iron Man; I am ultimately Anti Accords and Team Cap. Team Iron Man writers please feel free to write your stories but us Team Cap get to write ours.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug was making another appearance as a guest for Nadja Chamack’s show Face to Face and it had been going well; she was answering Nadja and the callers’ questions well enough. Chat Noir had said that he unfortunately had another appointment in his civilian life and wouldn’t be able to attend. Then came a caller and it was a political analyst. He asked the question that set off a chain of events:

“Ladybug; you know of the Sokovia Accords and though it is currently unknown if France will end up signing.... If they do; could we expect you to be first in line to sign?”

Marinette paused and even Nadja was taken aback; the audience were holding their breath. Marinette was going to be in a deep panick as she had read about the Accords and it kind of scared her. Especially since she had her own super powers and if she had to register her real name and would have people looking over her and deciding when and should she acts. Of course in her latest interviews for Alya’s Ladyblog; Alya was not that interested in politics and hadn’t even brought the issue up with Marinette and their friends. She didn’t know whether to ignore the question but remembered that she had quietly decided her stance and now it would be a time to go ahold of it.

Nadja was about to dismiss the caller but Marinette stopped her as she faced the cameras; “whether or not France signs the Accords is irrelevant to me; no matter what I won’t be signing anything that involved giving my identity away. Not only that but it could mean that I would have people looking over me and deciding to let me intervene when people need my help now? That won’t work for me and while I respect the wishes of those who do register; I am afraid for those with powers who didn’t wish for them but will be held under scrutiny by the invisible Accords panel. Who knows if they decide they will be used as Superheroes regardless of their wishes; or if those who do will be forced to fight for sides that they don’t agree with.” Marinette spoke with a determined no nonsense look on her face.

The TV producers were deciding whether to cut the feed but got calls from the higher ups demanding they let the show continue on for the remainder; one of Paris’ few Superheroes publicly putting out her stance on a political issue was juicy news.

“But are you saying you are okay with Captain America and the Avengers ignoring borders and doing what they wanted? Plus what about Lagos, Vienna, New York and Washington?” The analyst asked and Marinette thought it over.

“I do agree that us Superheroes need oversight and we should and will face our mistakes head on but I don’t agree that the Accords are the answer. I do hope that there are safeguards and I should know of them and discuss them with them on print before I sign my real name anywhere.” Marinette said before glaring harder. “Plus the other point which I find ridiculous; are you saying I and Chat Noir should be blamed for everyone of Hawk Moth’s Akumas and attacks?” Marinette asked and the analyst looked flustered and in confusion shook his head.

“My heart goes out to those lost and affected by those horrible events and i do agree Wanda might have been careless a bit in Lagos but it was a tough one minute decision and she was doing her best to save lives form what I heard in the reports. But the masked thug was responsible for his bomb and now the stupid points. Why do you think the Avengers should be blamed for the fact that aliens were invading? You think all the Avengers should be blamed that one member decided to build a robot that apparently none of the other Avengers knew about and he went out of control. You are saying Captain America should be blamed for the fact that HYDRA infiltrated the major governments and intelligence agencies in the world and they were planning a mass killing spree.” Marinete said and everyone was silent at this.

“I don’t go for trends or debates but I read that because Mr Stark is the main Avenger supporting the Accords and Captain America is the main Avenger going against the Accords: that online people are asking if they are Team Iron Man or Team Cap. Well I am Team Cap I guess; I would go for a boy scout than a crazy billionaire anyway.” Marinette said with a chuckle before going serious again. “But seriously; I will end up saying this: I wish the governments and media would stop blaming Superheroes for the actions of the villain.” Marinette said before deciding to Bug Out.

The interview pretty much went viral and all of Paris and Europe went crazy for the first time a Superhero had actually went on public media and spoke up against the Accords. Alya was more than happy to make the headline about Ladybug being Team Cap. Chat Noir when he next saw her said he stood by her decision.

A lot of Ladybug fans began supporting her stance on the Accords with Team Cap tweets, replies and shirts. This raised Anti Accord sentiment in the country with rallies and it reached about most of the world. Marinette was amazed at what she started when she saw her fellow students wearing Team Cap shirts and even Principal Damocles got in on the action.

She had been expecting Tikki to chew her out but what little Tikki said of it pretty much implied she agreed with Marinette’s stance and words.

There was a meeting with Accords officials with the Prime Minister of France that included US Secretary of the State Thaddeus Ross who seemed to be the unofficial head of the Accords Committee and Tony Stark. He in his Iron Man armor tracked Ladybug down after a battle and did his best to try and convince her to support the Accords and there seemed to be an implied threat. She vehemently refused and allowed the crowd to come forward and start booing the armored Avenger forcing him to retreat.

This stirred Anti Iron Man sentiment in France but soon after that there seemed to be masked mercenaries with dangerous technology that were trying to kill Ladybug. She began fighting them a bit afraid for her life as these were terrorists and not magical Akumas.

However she had unexpected help from none other than Captain America leading his faction of rogue Avengers (though the Anti Accords people just called the group Avengers) Sam Wilson the Falcon and Natasha Romanoff the Black Widow. They were quickly subdued and Marinette was more than happy to squeal about how much of an honour this was. Steve Rogers flashed a smile and told her that the honour was all theirs.

Then came in Thaddeus Ross with his personal Accords soldiers telling them they were under arrest and Ladybug will be as well for insisting an international fugitive. Then came the civilians forming a protective guard around the Superheroes demanding they leave the Heroes. The police joined in with Ross screaming they were obstructing justice.

Marinette was a bit frightened but then came France government officials including the Prime Minister who personally told the Avengers and Marinette that they had their upmost gratitude. Marinette was doing her best to hide her excitement about being honoured by the Prime Minister of France himself.

Ross was about to talk to the prime minister when the government agents began telling Ross’ soldiers to drop their weapons as they began arresting the terrorists. Ross was surprised when he felt his hands being forced behind his back and cuffed as he was being read his rights; Ross demanded if they knew who he was.

“A Secretary of the State of a single country and an official of a treaty that might country has not signed; you maybe all big and powerful in your country but you have no such power and I will be campaigning you to have any diplomatic immunity withdrawn.” The Prime Minister told him as they were taken away.

Soon the investigation turned out that the terrorists were hired by Ross to take care of Ladybug and get her Miraculous for use by the Accords committee; that and they were involved in a terrorist ring to use alien reverse engineered weapons supplied by a sect of the US Government. This caused public outcry and the Prime Minister made it public that France will not signing the Accords.

This caused outcry in European countries that withdrawn from the Accords and more Anti Accords sentiment was spread in the US. The US Government were quick to disavow Ross and his supporters; they began investigating the Chitauri weapons. Ross was removed from the Accords committee and stripped of all positions and disgraced by the US Government; he was to be tried in the UN court for war crimes.

More countries began to withdraw from the Accords and soon they were voted away; the Avengers were allowed pardons by the countries and were willing to work with them to find a compromise with them.

Marinette read some time later that in the US Election; Steve Rogers was made a write in candidate and he won by a landslide; the new reluctant US President Steve Rogers was seen with the new field leader of the Avengers Natasha Romanoff, the Secretary of Defense James Rhodes, his Vice President Sam Wilson and at his inauguration there was T’Challa the King of Wakanda there as an ally.

Ladybug was invited to America by Steve who managed to find her identity but said the secret was safe with her; the trip there with her parents was disguised as a sweepstakes that they had won. President Rogers was in New York and Marinette got to meet a sweet kind and adorably dorky nerd Peter Parker who it turned out also had super powers and was the Spider-Man.

Who knew how all of this had sprung from a TV interview?