#proof that tony stark has a heart indeed

[thegoldenavenger]

>> shit let’s be a hero of heart then

guess your sword is now a SWORD OF SOUL but whatever. fucks with the artistic metaphor but you can roll with it. what’s a metaphor anyways, if not made into a tackily morbid but sentimental memento?

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐷𝐴𝑌

𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧: doctor!reader has no clue that Bucky is a secret agent and she soon finds out.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Fluff, minor angst.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

MASTERLIST

Bucky was finally back from his business trip. He had been gone for two whole weeks and you both had missed each other terribly.

Today he had decided to make it up to you, and had taken a day off from his work, and so had you. Instead of a simple date, you both had decided to spend the entire day idly roaming around the city. It was a nice reprieve from all the stress that came with being a surgeon.

While walking, you stopped in front of your favorite boutique. The dresses there were expensive but chic and you were friends with the owner and designer, Maria. Whenever you wore one, you used to turn all the heads in the room. Currently there was no special occasion coming up, and you already had enough of the dresses so you decided to window shop.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Bucky asked. “Buck, I already have so many of the dresses and I don’t need another one as there is no special event coming up anytime soon.”

“My doll doesn’t need a special occasion to look good.” He said kissing your temple. “Buck...” you tried to protest but he nevertheless dragged you in.

“Welcome! And congratulations you are our lucky customers.” You looked at her dumbstruck, Maria wasn’t a person to give any discounts. “Lucky customers?” You asked.

“Yes, today is the 7-year anniversary. And we had agreed that the first person to walk in the boutique would get 75% off on any dress of their choice.” She said with an infectious smile.

“75% off? On any dress?” You squealed. You looked up at Bucky and he gave you his signature smirk. You were a sucker for sales. As you looked around, your eyes were captivated by a dress. It was maroon, with long bell-shaped sleeves. It had a V-shaped neckline and was a flowing gown.

“You like that one doll?” Bucky asked as he saw you staring at the gown. He knew you would like that one. “Yes. I love it.” You said excitedly. “Alright then, pack it.” In your excitement you failed to notice the understanding nod shared between Bucky and Maria.

You were super excited and were talking nonstop. That was one of your traits when you got excited. You couldn’t believe you walked in at the right time, and the credit was Buck’s, he was the one who dragged you in. You couldn’t believe your luck.

The next you decided to visit the bookstore you usually frequented. The moment you entered, the book store clerk, Simone happily waved at you as if she was waiting just for you.

“I have something for you.” She said as she bent down and produced a book. It was your favorite one. “Open it. It’s a signed copy.” You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your favorite author had signed that book along with a sweet message scribbled just for you. “Oh my goddddd!!”

You couldn’t believe that this day was even real. “Bucky, I don’t know what is happening today, but it’s already the best day of my life.” You squealed and he pulled you closer to him, “It’s definitely the best day of our lives.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

After around an hour later, your beauty salon lady called up and informed you about her latest offer. And so, you decided to give her a visit while Bucky went home. Once you were done, you were looking exquisite.

You were too euphoric to notice all the coincidences. Everything was perfect until you went home. Bucky face was worried. “What happened? You look worried.”

“It’s Nat’s birthday today. We both forgot. Don’t worry, Steve has arranged a party. So now let’s get dressed and go.” Nat and Steve were Bucky’s colleagues and best friends.

You knew this universe was giving you signs. After all the shopping you did, it was worth it. You decided to wear the new elegant dress.

When Bucky saw you and his jaw dropped. He himself was wearing an expensive navy-blue suit. “I swear to god, if it weren’t so important, we would’ve never left this house.”

Once you reached the location, you were surprised to find no one was there and it was completely dark. But then a sudden focus of light was out on where you stood with Bucky.

Just then Bucky got down on his knees and produced a velvet box. “Will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?” He looked flustered and scared. Without thinking twice, you squealed “YES!”

Apparently, Bucky had already bought that dress for you, there was no offer at Maria’s. Also, he had arranged for the signed copy and the salon well. He just wanted it to be the best day of your life in all sense.

———

Maybe you had been wrong. It had been a week since your engagement, but today was the best day of your life.

After learning the news, you had been euphoric. You wanted to tell Bucky as soon as possible, but he was too busy today and you knew better than to disturb him.

Before going home, you decided to celebrate a little and went to the nearby cafe. You ordered your favorite pastry and sat at one of the tables.

Suddenly there was a small pat on your shoulder. You turned around and saw the last person you expected in this cafe. “Tony?”

Tony Stark was a billionaire. Despite having all the money in the world, his heart wasn’t as healthy. And that’s when you came in. When he had first come in due to an emergency, you had treated him and ever since then he had become your patient.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked as he took the seat in front of you. “Having some coffee, I guess.” He said shrugging. And then his eyes fell on your ring.

“Woah! I see someone is engaged. Didn’t think you’d break my heart so ruthlessly.” He said pretending to be hurt. You excitedly nodded, “Just a week before.”

“Well, so who is the lucky man?” He asked. “Bucky Barnes.” You said smiling giddily. “I’m sure he must not be more handsome than me.” Tony quipped.

“You’ll be disappointed!” You took your phone out and showed him a picture of Bucky. Tony squinted his eyes and took your phone into his hands. “This is Bucky?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Why?” Tony seemed confused and then pulled out his own phone. “As long as I remember, his name is Andrew and he is already married.” Your eyes widened at that.

“What? You just be mistaken. Are you sure it’s him?” Tony nodded. “Yeah, see this. I met him around a week ago, that’s why I remember. Not gonna lie his wife, Sonya was impressionable.”

He said giving you his phone. There was a picture of Tony and a couple. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was indeed Bucky, and the worst part was, his ‘wife’ was none other than Nat.

~~~

You were sitting on your couch and crying when Bucky came home. “What happened?” He quickly kneeled on the floor besides you.

“I’m gonna only ask once, because I can’t emotionally afford to ask twice; what is going on between you and Natasha?” You ask, your eyes were blood red and puffy from all the crying.

“What?” Bucky took your hands in his and pressed kisses. “Don’t lie, I know everything. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“I don’t get what you are saying, doll.” You took out your phone and showed him the pictures Tony had sent you. At that Bucky scoffed, “Oh this!”

“Oh yes Andrew! What the fuck is even your name you liar!” At that Bucky’s demeanor grew serious. “Listen, it’s not what you think. Wait right here.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went upstairs.

“See this.” He said running downstairs and giving you a file. “And what is this? Your marriage certificate?” You asked incredulously. “Just read it once please.”

You took it and started reading. First it didn’t make sense but after some time it did. Bucky was an agent working for a secret government organization called ‘Avengers’.

“What is this Bucky?” He slowly started wiping your tears. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now. But I always thought that I’ll tell you tomorrow; but turns out tomorrow never came.

I know you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so this is the proof. My own file. I’ve worked as an Avenger for years. That day at Tony’s party we were undercover. And we pretended to be married. The ‘two weeks business trip’ was actually an undercover mission.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Bucky seriously! You couldn’t tell this to me before? Do you know what I’ve felt in the past two hours? I literally found out in the worst way possible, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” He pulled you closer to him and pecked you on your cheek. “This was some True Lies level shit.” You said laughing.

“So... now that you know this, I might as well confess something more.” You raised your eyebrows and wondered what all news today’s day was going to bring.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” You nodded, you remembered that day very clearly.

It had been an excellent day. Your surgeries had gone perfectly but you were tired. So, you decided to do what you did every time you had a good day; go and eat a pastry.

As you entered the cafe, you could see the pastry section to be completely empty. You pouted and were sad to break the tradition. You inquired but they weren’t going to make any more pastries for the day.

As you were about to turn around and leave, you came face to face with the most handsome man you had ever met, his eyes were so captivating, you feared you’d get lost in them.

“I saw you wanted a pastry, well, I guess I have one and you can have it.” His voice was smooth and you swooned. “Uh, no it’s fine.”

“Oh, I insist.” You looked up at him and gave him a pleasant smile, “Why don’t we share?” You asked shyly. You spent the entire evening chatting and decided to meet the next day for a proper date. And that is how you had met.

“It wasn’t actually my first time. I had seen you before that at the hospital but I was undercover and so I couldn’t approach you.

But then I just got too shy to ask you out so I used to follow you around. I didn’t mean to creep or stalk. I just... God! This is embarrassing. But I kind of learnt your routine and habits.

I knew when you had a good day you would go and have a pastry at the cafe. That day before you went in, I bought all of the pastries. So, when I asked you whether you wanted to have mine; I actually had at least 23 pastries with me.”

You giggled at that. “Wait you are not mad?” You shook your head. “Actually, I would’ve been, but now that I know how you are, and that I love you so much, this is actually pretty cute.”

You stopped laughing and said, “Well, now that you’ve shared your secrets. I’d like to share something too. I fear I won’t be able to love you in the future as much as I do now.”

Bucky tensed up. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked adorable. “Because when a mini version of you will be running across the house, I swear to god I won’t be getting any reprieve.” You said snuggling him.

“I... what? Are you? Wait, is it what I’m thinking it is? Are we pregnant?”

“YES! You’re gonna become a daddy, James!”

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s��come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker - Reward

It’s a world rife with magic and monsters. Full of fantasy and witches and fate.

Tony cares little for those. He’s an inventor. A mechanic. An artist. He hones his skill, his craft, every day for twenty years, and then another twenty years. Worn and scarred, fingers thick and nimble, tremble-less. He knows little of magic and monsters. Of fantasy and witches. Those things that change and shape the world.

He uses his craft and he earns his power.

He’s a court favourite. The King likes him well-enough. That’s as much as anyone really likes Tony. Well-enough.

“You’re too tough. Too sharp. People don’t like that.” His mother had warned, even as she smoothed her fingers through his hair.

He hadn’t heeded her advice. His eyes had been on her loom. “There must be a better way,” he had said, “for that to work. So you don’t have to weave the cloth yourself.”

There is little to be said of gallantry. Heroes who have slain monsters come into the golden halls. They show King Brock the latest head of some nymph, or some great, long lost treasure, but in the end they must go on other adventures.

Tony, a court favourite, has a place in the palace always. A little wing to call his own. When he asks for iron, he is given iron. When he asks for silence, people hush.

Of course, when Rumlow demands an invention, or a maze to house some monster, Tony has to stop the whirrings on his mind to tend to those whims. He does not fight that. HIs mother was right, he’s rough and sharp, but he is no fool.

So, when he’s summoned for the King, he sets down his welders tools and follows the guards. He chatters at them, trying to see them rile, but they only smile tightly. Something weighs on them.

“Stark,” Rumlow beams, too encouraging, “men, leave us.”

The guards disappear. Smoke in the wind.

“My lord.” Tony doesn’t get down on one knee. But he inclines his head and Rumlow lets him have it.

“I have a task for you.”

“Name it, sire.”

“Years ago, I was shipwrecked across the strait.”

Tony nods. A sea-farer, perhaps a boat, a new oar. He can design something. Plans start to form in his head.

“I was given refuge upon a tiny island. It housed a demi-goddess. I lay with her.”

Tony waits. It doesn’t click. He doesn’t understand.

“It has become apparent that she had a child. My son. His name is Peter. He is mortal, but his blood, I believe, carries some trace of the gods. Because of this, they give him favour. My heroes have not been able to slay him. The seas that should kill, full of sirens and monsters, give him way. I have sent assassins and witches, and they fall prey to his charms.”

“Magic?” Tony asks, intrigued and a little disgusted. The petty foulness, the ease of magic. The fact the King is trying to kill his own blood, that is of little consequence. There are at least a dozen princes and princesses that flit about the kingdom now. Bloodshed will come once Rumlow dies as they battle for the throne. One less contender should shorten the battle.

“I had hoped it was magic.” The King sighs. “I fear it is him. He is…” the King sneers. “Beloved. They fall to him. Pledge their allegiance as if he were already their King.”

“I don’t understand.” Tony confesses, a hardship. “What would you have me do?”

Here, Rumlow smiles. Like the monster that prowls beneath the palace. “I would have you kill him, Tony. Don’t you see? You’re the only one who could. Who would not fall for his doe-eyes or sweet words. You are hardened. Use your mind, that cunning tool, or any of your inventions, and slay him. I can promise you rewards.”

Tony nods, already exhausted. This is not his domain, but the sooner it is begun, the sooner it is done. “What about the ire of the gods? You said they have given him favour. Will this not beget their anger?”

“Gods are fickle.” The King waves him away. “I have a hundred lambs all ready to be slaughtered for them. Pilgrims ready to visit their temples. I have had a boat prepared for you to leave this evening. I have heard from Cleo that Peter dwells on an island off her shore. My men will guide you.”

Tony grits his teeth a little at the lack of control, but it is a familiar ache. “And what proof of his demise? His heart?”

The King laughs at that. “You speak like a solider, Stark. I do not need proof. I will trust your word and the darkening skies.”

It goes unsaid, of course, that failure means death.

***

Tony likes sea-travel. The allusion of freedom on that endless horizon. The rough work of rigging. The smell. He used to pour over his father’s atlases, used to dream of travelling the world.

He has made himself content with Rumlow’s palace. The golden walls. His inventions.

They reach the island swiftly. The seas are much calmer. It must be Peter’s presence.

“We can go with you no further.” The men say. “Rumlow forbids it. He believes Peter would affect our minds.”

Tony wades through the water to the craggy edges. Rocks black with wet, gulls screaming.

“Sailor, let me help.” Comes a voice, soft as a siren, and Tony looks up and sees- him.

For it must be. Gold eyes. Eyes of a god. Traces of that divine lineage, but so devastatingly mortal. And it’s devastating, because Tony knows he cannot kill such beauty.

There’s no magic, but it feels like it. Carved like one of Romanov’s marble statues. It’s hard to believe such a thing could be part Rumlow.

He takes the lily hand, bronzed with sun, and lets himself be pulled up.

It’s but a boy. Not old enough to command armies. Barely a man.

“Peter.”

Peter smiles at him. “It never fails to surprise how many know my name. Where do you travel from?”

“From your father.”

Peter nods. He helps Tony manoeuvre the slippery rocks onto the sandy beach. There, he stoops to collect perfect white shells. “He would see me dead.”

“Yes.”

“I do not desire his throne.”

Tony smiles a little at that. “I don’t think it much matters.”

“Maybe not.” Peter’s eyes appraise his form. Tony puffs like a bird. “You’re no sailor. What are you?”

“An inventor.”

“An inventor.” Peter breathes, looking up at him in awe. He says the word with sacrilegious reverence. “What a gift my father has given me. I have been searching for an inventor my whole life.”

Tony itches to touch him. His skin prickles with a strange desire to taste. He’s had lovers in the past, in the endless escapades of youth, but Peter would be the only one that Tony would remember. “Hardly twenty years then.”

Peter laughs like music. “Will you help me?”

“Do you command me?”

“Of course not.” Peter humms, his eyes sparkle. “The God’s command. King’s demand. I am neither.”

“You are both. Son of a king and a goddess.”

“Bastard son of a king, and of a demi goddess.” Peter bows his head. “For some reason people help me. I cannot say why. I appreciate it, but I do not expect it. Your king would have you kill me.” Peter looks up at him. Eyes glazed like honey. Lips like wildflowers. “Will you?”

Throat dry, Tony croaks: “No.”

“I would ask for your help. Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Peter whispers, genuine, artless. He is pure, an unwilted flower. He could command strangers. Unite enemies. “I need a boat that would withstand the river of the underworld.”

Tony recoils from this. Unnatural. “I deal with inventions, not magic.” He spits. 

“They are one.” Peter insists gently, but sees Tony’s face. “You build. I’ll do the magic.”

“You can command magic?”

“Barely. Basic charms. The ingredients are kind to me.”

“As is all of life, it seems.” Tony quips.

Peter’s smile is indulgent. “If that were true, I would need no ship.”

“Who are you collecting from the underworld?”

Peter’s eyes scan over the horizon. In the distance, the boat Tony came on bobs. Peter tilts his eyes to the sky: the countless, silent, watching Gods. “Later.” He vows.

Tony believes him.

…

He seems older than his face suggests. In the same way Gods that saw the beginning of the earth have scarce a mark of time upon their face.

Tony wonders if it is his divine blood.

A ship to withstand the underworld needs to be very slim indeed. The rivers below are narrow, sharply turning. Tony cuts and shapes the wood, methodical in his work.

Peter, meanwhile, gathers roots and strange plants, grinds them into paste, spreads them onto the wood planks and whispers. They glow under his touch, seep into the wood. “Protection,” Peter will say after one, “courage,” after another, “safety”, “resistance”, “resoluteness”, “fierceness”.

In the evenings, Tony is led to Peter’s home. It’s a small castle, grand in it’s own right, teeming with treasures but empty of attendants. They sit before the hearth and Peter brings out salves, and rubs Tony’s hands; eases out the splinters and sprains of the day’s work.

“There is no need.” Tony insists, though the sight of Peter on his knees before him is one that will haunt him.

“There is every need. You do me a great kindness.”

“This is my reward?”

“No.” Peter hums, “this is my reward.”

His fingers unfasten the belt of Tony’s britches, the hot, wet mouth tight and stomach-lurching. It’s all Tony can do to breathe, jerking in his chair, sparking with pleasure.

When he’s finished, Peter tucks Tony away. Cleans him up. “Is there a deity you worship?” He asks, and Tony wants to say you but knows the gods would scorn him for it.

“Hermes is well-travelled.” He says instead.

“I will ask him to give you favour.”

“There is no need-”

“You say a lot about need.” Peter laughs, airy, nymph-like. “I suspect you understand very little of it. Your own are so tightly bound within you. I do not need, but would very much like you in my bed tonight. How is that?”

Tony’s throat is dry, blood already hot. “That is well.” He whispers.

*

A smarter man would delay the building of the ship. Spend more seasons with Peter on this island.

But the only thing that can rival Tony’s passion for the boyy, is his desire to work and invent.

As he sands the boards, he notes the cove they take shelter in. The shadows that hide them from the gods of the sky. “Who,” he says quietly, the waves lapping at their toes, “do you seek to bring from the Underworld?” A parent, who has died? A dear friend lost in battle? Worse- a lover. Tony almost could not bear it.

“I will bring an army of the undead,” Peter says, and Tony drops the block of cinder from his hand. It clatters to the deck. Peter continues to hum, binding rope with moss for strength.

Tony must be deceived. But there is no lie anywhere in Peter’s body. Just slim, muscled, beauty.

“Do not look so shocked, mortal.”

“Mortal?” Tony croaks.

Peter laughs. Musical. “I confess to you then. My mother was no demi-god. She was Zeus’ first born. I am no human. I’m more powerful than that.”

“You are not a god.”

“And grateful for it. Gods cannot go into the underworld.”

“You want war. Against who?”

“Rumlow. I will take his city. I will rule Attica.”

Tony laughs in disbelief, trembling with fear. He has been taken here for a fool. This is no kindness. This boy is vicious and cruel, like any God. “Attica cannot be united-”

“An army of the undead will unite them. The fates have written it. Led by me.”

Tony turns from him, shaking, eyes stinging. “I thought you good. I loved-”

Peter is before him, hands gentle on his face, smoothing through the inventor’s beard. “You love me with your mortal heart, dear sweet, Tony,” Peter whispers, kissing him. Melting into him, seeping into him, taking him over. Tony feels the eagerness against his thigh. Wants to jerk away but cannot bring himself to. He clutches Peter tighter. “I will reward you for it.”

Peter’s hand slips into Tony’s trousers. Tony is hard. Throbbing. But he resists. “I want no reward from you who brings such bloodshed.”

The boy, not a boy at all, laughs. Even as his hand works at Tony, spreading wetness, teasing, touching all the right ways. “This is not your reward. Your reward is much greater,” his teeth find Tony’s ear, nipping. “I will make you a god.”

Tony moans, Peter works him harder, he’s shaking, closer, trying to resist. “M-mortals cannot be made-” he gasps for breath, “-into gods.” He knows little of magic, but he knows that. Peter is pressed flush against him, hand moving between them.

“It must be written in Fate. I chose you, Stark. I had Rumlow choose you. I orchestrated it all. You are fated to be a God. Inventor who trapped the Minotaur, it is your destiny. You will be powerful and eternal and you will be mine.”

“I will be a god, and you not- you will die.” The thought is arresting. “I will have to continue without you.”

“There are tricks,” Peter grins, “Goddess of beauty is charmed by me. She will keep me young and beautiful forever. I will do a favour for the Underworld harpies. They will not take my soul.”

“What is this favour?”

“Do not fret,” Peter coos, licking Tony’s lips, grip merciless, taunting, Tony’s so close. Hips thrusting. “I have taken care of you now, have I not? I will give you all you desire. Every invention to make, all the means. I will care for you and not ask much in return. Let me do so for eternity. You can release, god.”

Tony cries out, does as he’s commanded.

An eternity. Ruled by Peter. A mystery wrapped up like a kindness. He’s hungry for it. He is no fool, Peter will ask for few, but terrible, things in return. Inventions that will turn Tony’s stomach. Wings of wax to trick a father and a son. A sea-spider to eat good sailors. A poison sword and arrow to destroy demigods. And he’ll make them all. Just like he’s made this ship. He’ll obey.

And if he’s good, Peter will reward him.

[blushing-starker]

For my Gracie dear. What would I do without you in my life? Merry Christmas darling. @vaguekiwi

"Well, you wouldn't really be in this position if you had accepted my proposal, baby cheeks. In fact, I'm practically drooling over the thought of you saying fuck it and coming to visit with a few surprises beneath that second skin you're rocking." Two sentences, two very different tones of voice, both trying to coax him in. Reprimand and flirt, the only possible courses of action for Wade when it came to them.

"So I guess it's true what they say; chivalry died when you were born, Wade. Every single conversation between us is proof and the world knows it." He grinned as soon as he heard the exaggerated gasps over the landline, always loved these tennis matches with his partner in crime.

Sure, the 'red devil' of Cliffwood often threaded barely subtle, often outlandish innuendos into their interactions and never denied the neighborhood a chance of seeing him draped over Peter, but it was, God forgive him, fun. Exciting and a little thrilling.

And also past their bedtime. So to speak. "I gotta go and I know Wanda likes to cook late. Go help her in the kitchen, Mr Gifted Hands. Vision might give me an A in the next exam if I told him I encouraged you to make his favorite lasagna." It won't happen, obviously. The Maximoffs, because Vision had adopted the name on his second date with Wanda long before their wedding, were usually chaotic neutrals that tried sticking to the right side of the law. Hopefully, Mr Maximoffs' morality would at least allow the man to add a five point bonus on Peter's next physics test.

"Oh, you finally admit my hands are gifted, Mr Parker? How forward of you." If there was one thing that he loved about being friends with the incorrigible Wade Wilson, it was how the man oozed sex like it was nothing. His surety in it, in flirting, in courting and joking made Peter feel at ease. Most people, even those like Mr Rogers with his slightly conservative views, enjoyed Wade's antics because they were harmless.

Most of the time. The guy had slept with two thirds of the town, after all.

"I'm not sleeping with you, Wade. What would Vanessa say of-"

"Please, the woman basically throws me at people in the hopes of watching me sleep with them."

"you being with me before her?"

"..."

Peter squinted at a shiny red nail, worried he'd somehow messed up Morgan's job of decorating him in the Christmas spirit. The lamp next to the couch is a tad dimmer than usual, right, he has to swap the bulbs. He'd completely forgotten in the midst of playing with Morgan and Rocky, baking them brownies, battling the upstairs shower mold, decluttering the toy boxes and throwing something semi appealing for dinner. There was a spare light in the, was it the garage? No, his memory had been reduced to physics laws and the kids' allergies, but Peter's sure he would have noticed. Maybe Morgan had hidden them in the office, Rocky liked chewing on light bulbs so it's not too unlikely

"Shit, Parker, now I'm thinking about that, Jesus. Christ on a bicycle! Hmm? It's nothing, Wanda, just Peter being a brat and a tease."

"Hey, I'm not a brat!"

"Says you. I bet a certain member of the awesome facial hair club could evidence the opposite. Actually, I'll go right over and ask, hey!" The sound of Wade distinctly face planting onto the Maximoffs couch sent Peter into enough hysterics he could barely make out what Wanda was saying.

"I sincerely apologize for the little devil-"

"I'm almost two heads taller than you!"

"that can't seem to mind his manners no matter how many times we try to teach him how to be human."

"It's," God, he's wheezing like a freshman first day of gym with Coulson, "perfectly alright, Miss. I'm the one that should say sorry for keeping him up so late, I know he has chores to do around the house. Lovely Christmas lights, by the way. I think you guys might win the competition again this year."

There's a tiny worm of guilt crawling up his throat; how could he distract Wade when Wanda had her hands full with an energetic baby ready to sprint out of the house at any moment?

"Oh sweet Peter," she drawls out the vowels, like they're honey and she's trying her best to stretch them out, savour them, "you really think so? I thought the yard looked perfect, but Vision insisted on decorating the roof to 'ensure our win against my dear brother in law'. And please, a happy Wade that's finished his teasing for the day is wonderful for us. He cleans faster and doesn't kiss my cheeks as much."

"Wait, you did the roof?" He knew the Maximoff siblings were intense, had witnessed Pietro stabbing flamingos into Clint's lawn just to add some color to his already bright remodeling a weeks ago.

"You haven't seen it? Tell Morguna's father to take you outside to see it while the kids are watching television. That way you can go back with an excuse if you get too nervous with him."

Peter spluttered, ignored the fact his cheeks were flaming, pretended he couldn't hear Wade's howling through the phone. "I don't, I wouldn't, it's not like, I mean. The, the kids will probably sleep early tonight."

"Perfect, you won't have an excuse and he'll finally kiss you. Oh, Vision. Hello, dear, I'm saying goodbye to Peter. That idiot might kiss him tonight."

"Hello? Hello, Peter. I'm very happy for you both; but may I request you kiss after midnight? I'm afraid I made a substantial bet regarding that kiss and was hoping to get Clint back over Banner and Natasha."

Great, he'd died and entered a hell where the only thing he could do was stutter and flush crimson. Typical Parker luck, really.

"SurebyeMrandMrsMaximofflaterWade."

He slammed the phone back on its pedestal, dove into the leather couch and screamed until his throat ached.

--------

"Daddy? Peter, daddy's here! Don't let him go to our room until we're done with the Christmas card, please!" He yanked his head from under the cushions, scrambled to the door, tripped over Morgan's race car, narrowly avoided the destruction of Rocky's Lego chop shop, hastily stashed a pink apron in the drawers by the door, failed to straighten his sweater (a gift from the kids' grandmother) and took all of ten seconds to fix his hair before opening the door. In the exact moment the owner of the house leaned against it to enter.

There's a second where realization kicked in, worry is splashed over both their faces, he darted forward to help so the man's heart didn't shut down on them right then, said man wanted to preserve such a young, healthy body; they tried to control the damage.

They failed. Spectacularly. Crashed into each other, somehow elbows and knees sunk into bad spots, bone snapped, ligaments wept in pain, a chest became winded, one of them got a black eye and the other a constricted throat. This was, of course, before it started raining and two idiots got drenched while piled up on the front door.

Peter gasped, wasn't sure whether it was better to lie under his dream, his wet fantasy, his goal in life or allow his brain some oxygen.

To be fair, this would only happen the once. He could breathe for the rest of his lonely life.

"Uh, welcome home, Mr Stark. How was work to, today, sir, that's not my thigh." Wade would know. Jesus, Wade would find out Mr Stark touched his dick for the first time and it wasn't even on purpose.

"Kid, I'm so sorry. Here I was wondering if I could give you your Christmas gift without ruining the box and now look at me. Peter, you don't have to come back to work if you don't want to-"

"Wait, you got me a gift, Mr Stark?"

"I will pay you for this whole month, obviously." The man shuffled back, attempted to shakily stand up like a foal and immediately slid down onto the sleek young man.

"Not come back to? Mr, ow, Tony, I'm not going anywhere. Not on Christmas, not ever. Look at me." Don't look at what's between my legs, Peter prayed, don't look at how you are between my legs, don't look.

Tony Stark glanced down, inhaled sharply and snapped his gaze to the au pair's. He may have leaned against what he hoped was his Christmas gift. Maybe.

"I'm not leaving, Mr Stark." The rain kept drizzling into the house, his throat continued to ache, the distance between their two bodies remained the same. But there was something in Mr Stark's eyes now, yes indeed, something Peter had resolutely ignored for the past six months while working with the sweetest family he'd ever known. It was the same something Wade yelled about when talking about his best friend's employer's face as it regarded the au pair.

"I think Wade might kill me if -"

"Rhode's is gonna choke me out if-"

"Are you two gonna kiss or not?"

They risked whiplash to peer right at, or, in Peter's position, upside down at Morgan and Rocky who unflinchingly stared at the ridiculous site their fathers made. Rocky even shook his head the way Tony did when he was disappointed. Little Morgan criss crossed her arms and Peter thought he'd sob because that's just how he taught her.

"We were going to put mistletoe on the door when you came in; we finished the holiday card months ago so that was the one thing left on the to do list."

"Months ago? I helped you two make one last week!"

"Oh yeah, how were you going to hang up mistletoe, daughter mine? There's no nail." A soft thwump over the doorway. It seemed Clint had given Morgan her own bow. And she knew how to use it.

They collected their courage, scraps of reduced pride, some drool and a tiny drop of sweat before turning to the man they'd been waiting for for so long.

"Mr Parker, will you do me the honor of bestowing a kiss upon an old man with creaking bones and heating hair?"

Oh. Oh, this was happening.

"I love your hair and I'll get you a walker that has a cup holder for water and a few pain pills. Mr Stark, will you kiss a kid from Queens who's so into you the red devil of Cliffwood himself doesn't dare sleep with either of us and get in the way?"

"Well, first of all. A walker, really, am I that old. Second, nice call on the pain pills, very good save on the hair. And please. He'd never get in the way of us two-"

"Great, are you gonna kiss me?"

"Why, Mr Parker. Don't mind if I do." It was a soft statement he would otherwise confuse as a plea.

"Fucking finally." That was a bit more of a pained gasp instead of a sigh of relief, but Morgan and Rocky were doing enough sighing for the both of them afterwards.

Afterwards though, when the blood is finally distributed to the right places

"Yeah, I think I broke my wrist and you should get that throat checked. I'll get the car."

"Tony, it's the fifties. I can get the car while you call Bucky to look over the kids. Anyone talks to me and they'll think you had something to do with my throat."

"That is a fantastic idea, sweetheart. Save it for later, maybe raincheck?"

"Get the car, Tony."

"Yep. Come on, you rascals. Help an old man out."

----------

Wade can't look at Tony without howling, mutters something about a limp wrist while Vanessa sighs and apologizes, compliments Peter on surviving life with a ridiculous best friend by his side. He says it's ok. Wade's his go to guy for whenever Peter has to get his head in the game and his lips on Tony's.

[twokinkybeans]

Il Ristorante [A Spin-Off To ‘Tempio Di Pietro’ & ‘Jar Of Dirt’]

Summary: It’s midwinter, and Peter feels frustrated that he can’t seem to get into his Cupido headspace now that his Italian island is off-limits. MJ has an idea to help him and Tony out. Or: Tony and Peter have another threesome with MJ. Tags/warnings: Nff, Roleplay, God Worship Kink, Threesome F/M/M (find a full list of tags on AO3). Notes: Lien and I are beyond excited to finally share this piece with you! It’s a continuation of Tempio Di Pietro / a new part of our Ti Amo series (find here). We decided to update this as soon as we hit a 1K Tumblr followers, so here we are!! Thank you all so much for your continued support. We love you <3 ps. Tony and Peter are in an established long term relationship. Their feelings for MJ are purely platonic.

Read this fic on AO3

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IL RISTORANTE

“Peter…” MJ’s voice trails off and Peter feels his cheeks heat up slightly. They’re sitting on the floor of MJ’s new, but still very much empty loft. After she had troubles with the heating system in her dorm room and Peter overheard her conversation with her racist landlord he knew he had to get her out of there. Tony agreed, and they happily funded MJ’s new home. They just finished taking the measurements of the space and figured they had some time left to just sit and chat before going to IKEA to meet up with Tony there. Somehow, the conversation had drifted to… Well, Cupido. “Don’t you remember the note I wrote to you on your birthday? The one that came with my presents? You can do this.” “I know, I just…” Peter sighs, fiddling with his fingers as he tries to find the right words. He knows that MJ is right, but… “I just don’t want to let him down.”

MJ’s lips curl into a sympathetic smile and she leans in to bump her shoulder into his. Peter snorts, the playful gesture comforting and grounding. Gosh, he wants her to be right. He’s been craving it, but now that it’s winter, there’s no fun in going to the Italian island. Either he waits, or he tries at home. In New York. The thought alone feels wrong. Cupido and New York just… don’t mingle together very well. Oh, how he misses Tony’s sweet devotion sometimes. Of course, he gets his fair share of sex. Tony and he literally can’t keep their hands off each other. Peter loves it. He’s the subbiest sub he knows of. It’s just that being Cupido settles something else, deep, very deep inside of him. There’s something about Tony’s undivided attention and adoration that just feels so wonderfully magical.  “What if…” MJ mumbles slowly. “What if you try it in a nice, Italian restaurant, and-” “But MJ, I-” “No, no. Hear me out,” MJ grins and raises a finger at him. Peter presses his lips together and tries to keep the laughter from bubbling up in his throat. It’s funny how she still holds the reins in all of this. “I didn’t mean one of those cheap pizza places- bless them- but rather one of those classy, high-end spots. Tony would pay for that without having to think twice.”

MJ pauses for a moment and shifts where she sits against the wall. Something about her posture changes and by the gods, Peter realizes what she’s trying to do. Her beautiful, thick curls brush past his lower arm and she leans back slightly.  “Can’t you imagine it, Peter?” MJ’s voice is dreamy and soft. “The warm glow of the lights- almost like the midnight sun sinking into the sea. Lush greenery all around you, accompanied by statues. Lots, and lots of statues. Hard chest, strong abs, but Tony wouldn’t see them as his eyes are focused on you and you alone.” Peter’s breath hitches at her description. He can do nothing but stare at her as she speaks and continues her fantasy. “Soft, Italian tunes in the background. Probably some romantic, passionate but slow guitar songs. Maybe even some organetto songs. You could listen to that while you taste the savory food, rich in texture and flavor and spices too. And Tony? He’d offer it all to you.” “Oh fuck, MJ.”

Peter can imagine it all now. The vision in his mind includes their servant too. He sees Tony’s big, brown, pleading eyes. So loving and full of admiration it has Peter’s heart swell with love and joy every single time. MJ licks her lips and raises a hand to trail her finger over Peter’s cheek. The gentle, barely-there contact sets of a series of shivers down his spine. His mouth opens in a silent gasp and he stares at her. Completely entranced. “H-how do you do this, so… So easily?” He mumbles and tries to ignore the way his cheeks flare up at her obvious flirtation.  It’s almost funny how platonic their love for each other is and yet when MJ’s demeanor shifts he’s weak. “Mmmmh, turn into Aphrodite you mean?” Her voice is soft, yet rough around the edges, a deep, sultry tone that is playful yet ever so serious. “Yeah…” MJ lifts his chin. “Because she’s a part of me. She’s right there, for me to access whenever. Just as Cupido is inside you.” Her hand slides down from his face onto his chest and it rests in the place where he can almost feel his own beating heart pounding within his ribcage. “Close your eyes.”

Peter easily obeys the Goddess’- no, MJ’s- command. He hopes MJ can’t feel his crazy heartbeat. Or maybe, he hopes she does. Something about her gentle fingers is so different when she gets like this. They’re still soft and sweet, yet so demanding. He waits for her to say something, but she doesn’t. It’s just her hand on his heart, and the words she spoke playing in his head over and over again. 

He’s this close to feeling it. Peter knows Cupido is there somewhere, but the God remains ever so out of reach; slipping right through Peter’s fingers. He sighs and opens his eyes again. Slowly he puts his hands over MJ’s and smiles faintly. “I know you’re right, but I just can’t do it…” he mutters. He’s not exactly frustrated. He just doesn’t understand what is keeping him from accessing his godly mindset. It’s- 

Okay, it is a little frustrating. 

MJ hums quietly, resting her head on top of his shoulder.  “You’ll get there, Pete. Trust me.” “Yeah.” He presses his lips together, resting his own head on top of hers. “What time is it, anyway? I don’t wanna keep Tony waiting at IKEA too long now.” “Let him wait,” MJ chuckles, “-just five good minutes of Tony Stark, billionaire, to be seen at IKEA and have people wonder whether it’s truly him.” “You’re a sadist.”

MJ simply smirks.

-

The second Tony’s eyes fall on their designated table, he knows that there’s more going on than just a simple date night with his boyfriend. A fancy place like this would never set a table for three for a couple by accident. One look at Peter’s flustered face is enough to confirm his suspicions that something is off. Something is going to happen. The man glances at his surroundings once more. It’s… Italian. Very Italian, in fact. Tony swallows. “How’d you find this place?” He asks and tries to ignore the way his voice falters. He isn’t sure what’s happening but he’s thrilled. He’s curious. Excited. He wants to… He wants to take care of Peter. Or rather, devote himself to a certain young god. “Google,” Peter quips a little too fast. Tony knows it’s highly unlikely that innocent Peter Parker found a place like this on Google. It’s simply too expensive to show up on the first couple of pages. The white calacatta marble tables with golden lining are the very proof of that. As are the simple, yet rustic grey farmhouse chairs. Clearly high-quality elmwood. The seats padded with supple leather for more comfort compared to a regular wooden chair. The soft piano music fills Tony’s ears and it’s accompanied by the soft splashing of the fountain in the middle of the dining area.

“Mmmh,” Tony hums to counter Peter’s excuse and sits down on one of the chairs, sighing in content as the seat is indeed as nice as he expected. Peter hurries after him and sits down opposite him. The boy takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders. Tony wonders what Peter is up to. Italy and Italian things, in general, mean something to them, and it has Tony slightly confused. Peter never wants anything to do with that in America. Or rather, is too anxious to try it. Peter isn’t insensitive at all so there’s no possible way that he picked this place by accident. Are they… Trying it again? Tony sniffs. “So, what’s with the third plate?” “What?” “The third plate,” Tony leans back against the backrest and tries to stay clear-headed. He has to wait. Wait and see. Peter presses his lips together. God, he seems so tense.  “Well…” Peter starts. His brows have curled together in a frown at this point and the boy licks his lips nervously. That’s about enough, Tony reckons. He’s already feeling the familiar tingle in his chest so he might as well indulge Peter, even if he’s too flustered to say the obvious. He’s trying. For Tony. So, Tony will help. Tony swiftly gets up from his chair and moves to stand behind Peter, who looks up startled. “It’s okay, Pete, you don’t have to tell me everything.” Tony’s hands creep up to rest on Peter’s shoulders and squeeze softly. “Let me help you.” Peter can only stare at the cutlery in front of him. He gasps quietly when Tony’s hand creeps up into his hair, caressing where he would have his crown if they were in Italy. “Tony?” Peter stutters and his boyfriend leans in to let his neatly trimmed beard scratch the shell of Peter’s ear. “Yes, my Lord?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut and stifles a moan, when suddenly… “I see you’re already getting started without me?” Both Tony and Peter are popped out of their little bubble and they look up, jaws dropping at the sight in front of them. MJ. In what could only be described as a golden dress. Her hair is neatly curled into a half updo, with strands playfully yet purposefully draped to frame her face. Her wrists jingle with the many golden bracelet rings they’re carrying and on top of her head rests a golden crown. Both men feel like there’s no more air to breathe and it’s only when MJ winks and steps closer that they’re shaken out of their trance. “Aphrodite?” The name slips from Tony’s lips before he could think it through and MJ simply smiles. “I’m guessing that’s a ‘yes’ on the outfit?” “Yes,” Tony and Peter reply in unison, breathlessly. “You’re- holy- you’re stunning,” Peter stammers, still staring wide-eyed and only now realizing how deep the V cleavage actually goes. Her skin radiates warmth, as if she’s the sun and her cheeky smile snaps Peter back to reality. “Why, thank you.” MJ nods curtly and opens her small designer bag. “I would say I aim to please… Though, that’s more your job, isn’t it?” She eyes Tony, who sucks in a breath. “Take a seat, Tony. We have things to discuss.” “Things?” Peter questions as Tony makes his way back to his chair, fumbling and stumbling as the mask of the put together billionaire has dropped. “Well... “ MJ reveals a small hourglass from the bag and places it in the middle of the table. She turns to Tony and leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “See, Tony, we have a bit of a problem.” “Oh?” Tony cocks an eyebrow and steals a quick glance at Peter, who shrugs confused. “All of us know he can do it.” MJ bites her lip and her hair dances as she quickly flicks her head to Peter. “But he just can’t get there.” “You’re saying it as if I need Viagra,” Peter scoffs as he leans back, crossing his arms. MJ chuckles. “Petey-boy, I’m trying to be sexy here, don’t ruin the mood.” MJ drops one of her hands on the table and snakes it to the hourglass to toy with it. Peter’s eyes fixate on the sand swirling around as she topples and twists it. “You said you wanted this. For Tony. For you. We will get you there, Peter. By the end of this dinner, you will be our Cupido again.” She bites the inside of her cheek and side-eyes Tony. “Are we all green?” Tony nods, face scrunching together as he swallows with his dry throat. “Green,” he mumbles immediately. MJ looks back at Peter whose shoulders have raised to tuck his head down in shame. He’s uncomfortable. Scared. MJ audibly sucks at her teeth and leans in a bit more, fingers letting go of the hourglass so she can reach for Peter. She pats the table twice, trying to coach any reply out of him, but he keeps staring at his hands in his lap. “Peter?” “Yellow,” he whispers. Tony immediately stands up again to get closer to his boyfriend. “May I?” he asks before wrapping an arm around him. Peter nods and smiles crooked at the warm embrace. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, okay? We’re just gonna have a fun time and if something happens, it happens. If not, then that’s completely fine too. Okay?” Peter nods again, slightly, and sighs.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” “When have you ever?” Tony chuckles. “Well, there was that one time with the Vulture-” “Nope, nuh-uh, not doing this.” Tony squeezes Peter tightly to him. “How old were you even back then? Fourteen?” “Fifteen.” “Also, did you hear yourself? ‘that one time,’ huh?” MJ butts in with a smirk. “You never disappoint, Pete. And you won’t tonight. Doesn’t matter whose bed we end up in or what we end up doing. The goal is for us to feel good. Like, good good.” MJ raises her eyebrows playfully as she presents the menu. “All of us.” “I know,” Peter mumbles, taking the menu from MJ’s hands. “Please, don’t get me wrong, I do want this. So much. I’m just… Nervous, I guess?” Tony presses his lips against Peter’s temple in a soft kiss. “That’s okay, Pete. Take all the time you need.” Peter nods gratefully. “Thank you.” He then quickly looks up and straightens his back. “Please, though, indulge yourselves. Maybe… Maybe that’ll make it easier for me to join in.” ...

“Sooo…” MJ sing songs softly. “What are we feeling tonight?” Tony purses his lips and looks at Peter for a second. “Not sure, to be honest. All of it sounds good,” he ponders as he lets his eyes glide over the words. “Not really fancying anything specifically right now.” “Fair,” MJ replies casually. “Although you know these dishes better than either of us. What would you recommend?” She pauses. “What would please us most?” Tony presses his lips together as he scans the menu again. His black slacks are surely loose enough to cover his already growing hard-on, yet the fabric strains around it as well. It’s a nice, warm, tingly feeling that coils in the depths of his stomach. Like a small candle flame. Nothing spectacular, but it could grow into a massive fire if left unguarded. Tony has a feeling he’ll lose himself tonight.

“If I may,” he starts quietly and smiles at his boyfriend who looks at him with familiar curiosity, “-I would recommend you try the osso buco. And for the lady,” he continues and shifts his gaze at MJ, whose smirk is ever so evident. She’s so calm. So gentle. “-I think the cacciucco would suit your taste perfectly. Although if you prefer something heavier, the bigoli would serve you just as well.” “Mh,” MJ reads the descriptions in the menu. “I think the seafood is a good call. You know me too well, caro.”

It’s not soon after that the waiter, who is almost unfairly handsome as well, brings them their chosen dishes. Served with a nice-looking olive and mushroom salad in an earthy-brown ceramic bowl. Tony can’t help the pang of nostalgia unfolding in his chest when he smells the food on his own plate. He did end up ordering the bigoli. As he had every single summer when he was still a young boy. Nothing screamed Italy more than the rich smell of red wine and wild duck- as much as other people might dislike it. To him, it was comfort food. “Buon appetito,” he smiles and carefully takes the right pieces of silver cutlery to scoop up a spoon filled with sauce. He blows, lightly, trying to cool it since steam is still emerging from the liquid, and then he wraps his lips around the silverware and moans. “Oh, this is good-” he mumbles and uses his fork to twist some of the bigoli onto his spoon until the strands no longer threaten to fall off.

“Eager,” MJ teases and brings her own spoon towards her lips. “A little too eager, don’t you think, Pete?” Peter looks up from his plate as if MJ was a teacher catching him doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. He glances at Tony and then back at MJ. “Hm?” “Remind me, how would dining go with you two on the island?” MJ smirks and leans her elbows on the table, breaking etiquette. It doesn’t matter that it would be considered inappropriate to sit like that at a restaurant like this, with the amount of confidence making her skin practically glow. “Oh,” Peter mutters, bringing his first bite down before it could even reach his lips. “Well, we… Um-” He frowns, not taking his eyes from his plate. “Close your eyes,” MJ continues. Peter complies immediately, taking a shaky breath. Why did he feel so much pressure? Why did this make him so nervous? MJ’s voice cuts through his thoughts. She brought it down slightly, rounding it out more. “Imagine you’re there, right now. The warm sun kissing your skin, yet the cool breeze from the shore keeping you comfortable in the heat…” Peter could almost hear it. The seagulls and the waves… “You’re at the temple, your temple. Tony has set the dinner table and he guides you to your seat.” MJ pauses for a second, letting the images flood Peter’s mind. “Can you see it?” He nods faintly, the corners of his mouth curling up at the memories. Peter is surprised to hear a faint, low hum to his left, but it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on. Tony can see it too. “Tell me, Peter… What happens next?” Peter licks his lips before he answers, leaning back against the chair. The muscles in his shoulders are finally relaxing a little. “He’d bring the spoon to my mouth first. He knows his Cupido deserves the very first bite. My pleasure before his, my-” Peter cuts himself off and his eyes open wide when he realizes what he said. He gulps, and finds Tony’s gaze once again. “Tony,” he whispers. His fingers grazing at the marble surface of the table in an attempt to keep himself calm. “Amore. She’s right. That was a little too eager, wasn’t it? Aren’t we supposed to be the ones to consume first?”

Tony’s dark brown eyes twinkle in a strange combination between adoration and humiliation when he looks at his lover. “Yes, my Lord.” He instantly puts his spoon down. “Please, would you allow me to…” Tony’s voice trails off and his hand moves forward across the table slowly. He doesn’t want to push Peter. Doesn’t want to go too fast and scare him away. But there’s a familiar fierceness in Peter’s eyes now. Loving and playful, but also more confident every second that passes. Peter nods at his plate. “Yes, you know what to do, caro mio.” Tony gasps lightly at the tingly shiver running down his spine. It’s not quite a command yet, but it’s getting close. Funny enough, Tony now gets why Peter finds it so difficult to do this here. Tony feels it too. It’s not as hard on him, but he too feels a bit more tentative. 

Tony wants this though. So, so badly. He takes a small leap of faith when he grips Peter’s fork and carefully sticks it into a little piece of meat on the plate. He brings it to his own mouth first, gently blowing it to cool off a bit. Then, he locks gazes with Peter and smiles.  “With my sincere apologies, amore, please accept my offering?” Peter chuckles at the smooth line and shakes his head lightly.  “C’mere, I’ll decide if it’s enough once I’ve tasted it.” Now it’s Tony’s time to grin and he brings the fork to Peter’s lips. Careful not to jab the young man’s lip as he pushes it inside. A small droplet of sauce accidentally stains Peter’s chin and Tony frowns- pulling the fork back. Peter’s lips close and he hums in delight, licking the sauce away as he slowly chews the food. Tony can literally see Peter’s expression change as every single flavor sweeps through his lover’s mouth.

“How does it taste, my Lord?”

Peter opens his eyes again and Tony is certain. He is Cupido now- fully. His back is straightened and his chin is up. Cupido blinks slowly, like a content cat relishing in a beam of sunlight, and locks his half-hooded eyes with Tony’s. His stare is deep and intense, and then he speaks, voice low and authoritative. Tony somehow envisions hot, dripping nectar- can nearly feel the image drip on his cock. It twitches. “Divine.”

-

“Holy shit, MJ-” Peter mumbles in complete and utter disbelief as he lets his gaze slide past the beautifully decorated bedroom that MJ created. “This is not how I remember it from last time.” “I’m glad you like it,” she grins. “Ikea didn’t have everything I needed for, well, this.” Peter nods, still amazed. There are fairy lights taped to the wall, the tiny light bulbs casting a warm glow across her room. A tapestry behind her bed showing a summer-y island that doesn’t look like their island in the slightest, yet it’s definitely what they’re all thinking about when they see it. MJ’s sheets are soft, white cotton, while small fuzzy brown pillows are scattered all across it. A few large house plants that Peter does not know the name of clearly breathe life into the room. The flourishing green almost makes Peter forget that it is, in fact, a cold winter’s day.

“It’s beautiful.” Tony simply comments. He doesn’t even try to conceal the pride on his face though. “Money well spent.” “Mmmh, I had a couple of friends so generous to help me out.” “How sweet,” Tony chuckles, but lust drips from his voice. The man still gets off so much to his deities spending his money and they know it. With flushed cheeks, he remembers how Aphrodite had swiped his card at the restaurant as if it were nothing. “You should keep them around.” “Oh, I’m definitely planning to.” 

Somehow, that one sentence completely changes the atmosphere in the room. Aphrodite's eyes darken a little and she smiles. “I have one more addition, but I’ve hidden it. It’s not for just anyone to see.” Mysteriously, she stalks over to her wardrobe and tugs at the bottom drawer. Peter peeks over her shoulder and gulps when he sees the sign she’s picked up. It’s only a small, thin piece of wood. In burnt letters, it says just three words. Three, simple words. The truest proof that words can contain the entire universe if used right. 

Dimora d'Aphrodite

“My Goddess…” Tony whimpers quietly. Aphrodite stands up tall and cocks her head to her right. Peter feels like she’s completely knocked the oxygen from his lungs.  “Tony,” she whispers quietly and beckons him closer, handing him the delicate piece of wood. “Where should we put this up?” “On top of the headboard, my Lady?” “Very well.” She sits down on the edge of her bed. Her golden dress glows in the fairy lights. Twinkling, radiating light all around her. She’s chosen this dress deliberately, Peter realizes. It makes her look so unearthly gorgeous.

And not just her, he realizes too. MJ had insisted Peter would wear a white dress shirt. His wavy hair slick with gel to make it seem more curly and wild, yet still considered appropriate enough for the restaurant. In a moment of clarity, Peter brings his hands up to undo the two top buttons of the dress shirt, revealing a hint of his toned muscles. In the restaurant, he’d been Cupido, but on the car ride to MJ’s home he’d been exposed to New York again. To the high rises and flashing lights and honking cars. He had slipped out of his role. Away from Cupido. He wants him back. Needs him. And now, being in MJ’s bedroom, with the golden glow and smell of her crisp, clean sheets, with Tony’s eyes reflecting the fairy lights; almost a symbolization of his devotion towards them- Peter regains his divinity. He rises above.  “Do what she says, amore. Put the sign up and kneel.”

There. He’d done it.

“Yes, Cupido mio,” Tony breathes. Gentle, building arousal seeping through his rough voice. It only adds to the small fire that’s slowly growing in Peter’s groin. Tony places the sign on top of the headboard. It fits perfectly. Every single time they look up they’ll see it. “Come,” Peter whispers. Tony drops to his knees in front of Peter. The young god sees the small shudder going through the man’s body. “Perfect,” Cupido whispers. He runs his hands through Tony’s soft hair, then, grips tightly. “Oh, fuck,” Tony moans out loud, his face contorting at the sudden rush of pleasure. Peter licks his lips and tilts the servant’s head a tiny bit backwards. “How’s it feel to be on your knees again, sweet thing? Did you miss me, uh?” “So much, so much my Lord. I love serving you.” “I know,” Peter rushes and bites down his lips. He isn’t quite sure to proceed, but from the corner of his eyes, he can see MJ beckoning them closer. Peter grins, pushing Tony’s head down.  “Hands on the floor, darlin��, let’s greet our queen, shall we? We are in her home after all.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath and he crawls towards MJ, his eyes cast down to the wooden floor when he stills in front of her. MJ too, drags her fingers through his hair once. Cupido sits down next to her, boldly pressing himself into her side. MJ simply leans back. Her warm skin burning through the thin material of Peter’s dress shirt. “Your servant is gorgeous,” she whispers. “How lovely to play with him again.” “He’s missed you, Aphrodite,” Peter hums.  “Oh, is that so, Tony?” “Yes, Ma’am,” Tony breathes, still not looking up at them. Peter has to bite back a moan at the sight. He’s so sweetly submissive. So pliant. Soft. Yearning to please and pleasure them both.

“Now, honey, before we fully start. Are we all green to go? Any extra hard limits I should know of?” “I’m green, my Lady. Nothing different from last time.” “Cupido?” “Same here,” Peter states quietly, excitedly anticipating everything MJ has planned for tonight. She promised she’d taken the lead role, to help guide Peter until he felt confident enough to make his own calls. He knows what she’s planned. And it’s deliciously cruel to know that Tony is completely oblivious to all of it.

“Tony,” MJ whispers. Finally, Tony looks up at her, full of adoration. “Undress yourself for us. We wish to see your beauty wholly.”

-

It’s almost embarrassing, how these young, gorgeous beings turn Tony in a babbling mess simply by looking down on him. He’s shamelessly staring back, in awe of their beauty, their essence, their power. And of course, it doesn’t help that Aphrodite is riding him at a pace that cuts off any other thought in his mind. Her wetness squeezing around him is mindblowing at least.  Tony reaches his hands towards her, loving how her hair slides past his arms now that it’s falling out of her half up-do. His fingers trail past her collarbones, and he wants to say something. But the Goddess shakes her head and changes her position slightly, increasing the way his cock drags inside of her. Tony lets out an involuntary groan. “Oh Tony,” Aphrodite murmurs quietly, her voice sweet and commanding all at once. She rises up slightly, only to drop after. Her strong thighs holding him in his rightful place. “You never cease to amaze me.” “Aah-Ah!”  “That’s it, sweet thing. Show me your devotion.” “Always, my lady. T-thank you-” Pleasure builds in his groin, tingling, until it transforms into a scorching fire that consumes every single cell in his body. His eyelids fall shut as she drags another moan from deep inside him.

But, as much as he adores Aphrodite, his heart actually flutters in his chest when his lover leans in and presses a soft kiss against Tony’s forehead. “Cupido…” Tony smiles and nearly blushes at the intense look he’s given by the God. Brown curls framing around the young man’s head, the small, delicate tiara resting on top of it. “Yes, yes sweetheart,” Cupido coos and shifts upwards, crawling on top of Tony. With a whimper, Tony realizes what’s about to happen. 

Strong, muscular thighs settle across either side of Tony’s face. He cranes his neck upwards, no longer able to wait. “Oh!” Cupido exclaims when Tony’s hot, wet lips gently suck at right between his God’s balls. Tony moans happily when he feels the hips above him buck and press down more.  “Yes, Tony, make Cupido feel good. Doesn’t he deserve it?” Tony can only lick a wet stripe up towards Cupido’s hole in response.  “Aphrodite, he’s so good. Makes me feel so good,” the God groans out, tilting his pelvis to give Tony better access. “Good, then he deserves a reward.”

Without a warning, Aphrodite leans forward to press her hands into the cotton sheets for more leverage, and with a staggering rhythm she fucks herself on Tony’s painfully hard cock. He cries out at the soft drag around him.  “Pwease,-” he babbles against Cupido. “Oh, ‘m gettin’ close my Lady- so close.” “Oh no, not yet. You gotta work for it baby, gotta earn it.” Her voice is stern and gentle and the ever so sultry undertone. “Hold out for me, I ain’t done with you yet.” The young woman only fastens her pace even more. Tony’s eyes roll back and he digs his nails into Cupido’s thighs above him in an attempt to keep himself from falling apart right there and then. “I can’t- I can’t!”

Coldness wraps around Tony’s dick and he hisses. The abrupt loss of stimulation leaves him a sobbing mess. His hips rise from the bed, aching to find warmth again.  “Aphrodite, please, I’m sorry. I can hold out. I promise. I promise.” “Mmmmmh’ I know your intention is right honey, but you were so close.” Sharp nails drag upwards along his inner thigh and he groans. “A little… Too close.” Her voice is sweet like dripping honey, wrapping around his brains to enchant him in lustrous spells. If they keep teasing him like this he’ll end up delirious with pleasure. And honestly, he’s looking forward to it. “My lady, I-” “Hush. Cupido, shut him up will ya?”

Cupido grins down at the dark-haired devotee beneath him. Tony looks ruined. Absolutely ruined. Small beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, showing how much Cupido and Aphrodite have used him already. Lovely.  Peter shifts down a little, propping himself up on his knees until he feels Tony’s soft, wet lips wrap around the tip of his cock. “Ohhh, much better,” Cupido whimpers at the gratifying sensation. His cock had been hard ever since they started their main course at the restaurant, and as he had already learned at the island, Aphrodite is the queen of dragging things out. 

The girl in question smiles at Peter gently and leans in, her lips grazing at the skin just below his ear. The small huff that leaves her mouth sends a series of electric shivers down his spine.  “He wants this,” she breathes, “-give it to him. Give him everything.” The words send the young God rutting into his submissive’s mouth. Holding back enough to not hurt him, yet losing enough control for his eyes to screw shut on their own accord. 

“Ti amo, amore,” Cupido groans, digging his fingers into Tony’s sides, rolling his hips down and down again and again. Gasping as Tony’s tongue twirls around the tip of his cock. Peter can feel his balls draw tight, every muscle in his abdomen tense and excited and anticipating the promised high.  “That’s it, arciere,” Aphrodite mumbles and she lowers herself back onto Tony. Peter whines when he feels Tony’s hands tighten around his calves to keep himself from losing it. Tony’s thoroughly overstimulated and needy. He can’t talk though, not with Cupido’s dick in his mouth. “Take it, sweet man,” Aphrodite moans as she rides him relentlessly. “Take everything we give you and you’ll be rewarded.” “Hnngh!” Tony whimpers and sucks even harder. Peter curses under his breath and collapses forward, only catching himself just in time. His legs are trembling, shaking, barely holding him up. “Cavalo! Tony- You’re killing me here. I can’t, fuck, you’re so good. So good. Caro mio. Keep going- don’t stop- don’t stop!” He babbles incoherently. Tony responds by raising his hands until he’s holding onto Peter’s thighs, almost keeping him in place, and craning his neck for better access. Taking him deeper, more sloppily, as if making his deity feel good is the sole goal in his life.

Peter looks up at Aphrodite, and it doesn’t help in the slightest. She looks divine. Unearthly gorgeous. The warm glow of the fairy lights casting a never ending sunset onto her skin. Her breasts bouncing lightly every time she lowers herself onto their loyal devotee. Her eyes are closed too now, the tiara slowly sliding to one side- catching in the hair tie that is barely keeping her up-do together. 

“Cupido,” she moans. “Don’t you think it’s time that dear Tony here gives us his offering?” “Oh God-” he chokes out in response. “You mean-” “Yes, fuck, he’s getting close again. Listen to his moans Peter, he’s so close. So close to surrender fully.” Tony’s entire body trembles at that. Peter knows she’s speaking the truth. He looks up at Aphrodite and licks his lips. They had this planned, in fact, and her asking this means they’re headed for the grand finale.  “Good lord,” Cupido mumbles and takes a deep breath before pulling out of Tony’s mouth. It’s endearing how Tony tries to pull him back in. At the same time, Aphrodite rises up and leaves Tony too. The man reaches up for both of them, not sure where to demand a touch first.

“Stay there, honey,” Aphrodite coos. Tony goes limp, breathing heavily. “Please,” he murmurs, so quiet it’s almost inaudible. “Please, I need to feel something, I need-” “Get on your hands and knees, darling,” Cupido orders him. Tony moans and slowly drags himself up. Uncoordinated, clearly not in this realm anymore. “Cupido, amore, I… Guide me?” “Of course, of course... Caro mio, c’mere, you’re doing so well for us. Make me so proud. You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.” Cupido smiles as he helps Tony to get all the way up his fours. He leans in, pressing his lips in the crook of Tony’s neck. His hands creeping up to cup the man’s face. “Look at me, Tones.” Tony’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at him. Cupido can’t help but smile back at the adoration he sees.  “Perfect,” he whispers. “Now, do you want to know what we want you to do?” “Yes, yes. I’ll do anything to please you both.”

Cupido hums and beckons Aphrodite to crawl over. She does, gracefully so, and takes Peter’s place. Her legs part and Tony’s nostrils flare. “C-Can I?” “Yes.”

In awe, Cupido watches Tony dive in. The way Aphrodite’s eyes fall shut with pleasure says more than enough. He grins and slowly crawls all the way over until he’s right behind Tony. He reaches for the small tube with lube on the end of the bed- he should thank MJ for that later. She’s a true mastermind, planning all of this out. He squirts some onto his fingers and rubs them together a little, wanting it to warm up. Cupido isn’t actually planning on fucking his lover tonight. No. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have some additional fun. He knows just how much Tony loves being fingered whenever he is in this mindset. Outside of it? Never. But like this? Please. “Caro mio,” Cupido breathes and taps the inside of Tony’s legs. Tony whimpers and spreads them a little wider. “Perfect, Tony.”

Tony obviously can’t answer with his face buried between the Goddess’ thighs like that, but he clearly shows a little more enthusiasm. The girl thrashes in the sheets, grabbing Tony’s hair to guide him to all the right places. Holding him down right there.  When she cries out particularly loud, Peter pushes his first finger inside. It’s magic, the scene that enfolds next. Tony freezes entirely, then, drops his upper body into the sheets. Aphrodite growls and lifts Tony’s chin up roughly. Careful, but forcefully. “You feel that, honey?” “M-mh-” Tony stutters, fingers clawing at the linen while he takes Peter’s finger deeper inside. “Cupido is gonna make you feel s’good. So good you’ll want to come. The thing is, Tones-” she yanks his head up a little higher. Cupido bites down his bottom lip to suppress a dazed chuckle when he sees how it makes Tony’s cock jump. “No offerings until you’ve made me see every single star in space.”

Aphrodite looks at Cupido after that, smirking, and Peter shakes his head. She licks his lips, and abruptly lets go of Tony’s hair again. The man in between them dives right back in, fervent and eager, and Cupido takes it as a sign to curl his finger against Tony’s prostate.  “A-A!” The man chokes out against the Goddess, his poor, tired legs shaking after having been teased for so long. 

Cupido doesn’t stop- pressing a second and a third finger inside. Small, scissoring motions to open Tony up so captivatingly beautiful. Tony doesn’t stop, sucking and licking- making Aphrodite’s moans soar higher and higher. And likewise, Aphrodite doesn’t stop- bucking her hips against the devotee’s face as she comes. Wave, after wave, after wave. “Make him cum, Cupido, take his gift for us.”

Cupido snakes his free hand around Tony’s waist and obeys the Goddess’ demand with messy, rapid jerks. Tony shakes against his touch. His cheek resting on Aprhodite’s thighs- her long, slender fingers drawing circles against his scalp. “Good boy, Tony,” she mumbles, happily fucked-out, “-so good.” “Please, please, il miei amori- A-Aphrodite, Cupi-... Dio. Cupidio,” Tony chokes out. Peter huffs at the small mistake of his name, but he loves it simultaneously. It’s everything he is; Cupido and God combined.

“Come for us, Tony. Come.” Cupido orders and as the obedient man he is, Tony cries out as his orgasm comes crashing down on him. His cock jerks in Cupido’s strong grip, making a big mess into the white cotton sheets. Tony sobs, gasping for air when small spurts of cum keep falling from the tip- dripping all over Cupido’s hand.  The God stills his motions, giving the man some time to catch his breath. Cupido’s face softens and he takes a deep breath. “Ti amo,” he whispers quietly. “Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo.” Tony chuckles bewildered and nods. “Ti amo, Cupido mio.” And with a soft kiss against Aphrodite’s thigh, “-dea mia.”

Cupido hums content, and carefully let’s go of the now softening cock. His hands are wet and sticky, and he licks his lips, groaning as he curls his fingers around his own shaft. He hisses at the eventual pleasure.  It doesn’t even take him long to come all over Tony, and he joins the messy tangle of knocked-out bodies on the bed, gasping to catch his breath.

Cupido, he thinks with a gentle smile. 

Finalmente.

[peter-parcoeur]

“When you’re gone” - Part 1

Chapter 2

Comment if you like it ♥ 

Summary:

Before Thanos. 8 years ago. Peter just met Tony Stark and is slowly getting better at the whole “superhero” thing. Spending more time at Tony’s place, he’s slowly becoming part of the family and bounding with his 9yo daughter, Y/N, who adores him.

Then Thanos snaps and Peter disappears along with half of the population.

Nowadays.

Tony Stark just died and the guilt is unbearable for Peter. His mentor, role-model, father figure is gone and he’s not coping so well in a world without him. To make it worse, Tony’s left behind his daugher, Y/N, now 17yo, who seems to blame Peter for his father’s death.

For some reasons, Peter feels like he has to protect her. But what if she won’t let him?

                    CHAPTER I.

 Peter had fought armies of villains, fell from bridges and skyscrapers, been punched by a thousand guys and yet, no pain would ever come close to the way he felt on the day of Tony’s funeral.

Everyone had gathered to support Pepper and celebrate the true hero that was Tony Stark. As a flower crown flew away on the lake by his house, all the Avengers showed huge battle wounds left from Thanos’ army, but the hardest ache came from their hearts.

Peter could feel his aunt May’s hand squeezing his shoulder as everyone walked back to the house after the intimate ceremony but he just couldn’t move. It was like this bittersweet feeling would never go away. Tony, his mentor, his father-figure, the smartest, coolest, best man he ever knew had lost his life in order to save his.

How could he live with that thought?

Soon enough, he was left alone with a girl sat by the edge of the footbridge. She was holding the arc reactor Pepper had once put in a glass box, grazing her finger tips against the letters “Proof that Tony Stark has a heart”, sobbing uncontrollably.

" Y... Y/N ?”

When she looked up, it took Peter a few seconds to realize she was, indeed, Tony’s daughter. Sure, she had obvious swollen wet eyes and a red nose from all the crying but more importantly, the last time he’d seen her, she was still an 8 year-old kid. Now, she looked about his age.

“I’m… I’m so sorry” he barely managed to say as the lump in his throat made it hard for him to speak. What else could he tell a girl who’d just lost her father? He felt miserable himself though he had known Tony for a couple years only. To think of the pain his own daughter could be going through right now was almost unbearable.

When she got up, brushing dust from her black dress, Peter thought for a second she would give him a hug. Not that it would solve anything but Tony always seemed to do so in troubled times. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to think of it as an option.

“Don’t you dare talk to me”

She gave him a threatening look and walked past him in the opposite direction.

As he watched her walk away, Peter noticed Happy had been standing there the whole time. Y/N gave his hand a quick squeeze before she walked back into the house.

“Give her some time, kid, today is… tough for all of us

-         I don’t blame her, really.”

Happy was probably the closest to Tony you could get, so when he looked at him, Peter couldn’t help but break down again at the thought of the thousand memories of him they now shared.

“Why did he have to die, man?” he cried helplessly as Happy brought him against him in a warm embrace.

“Ha!” he started, trying not to burst into tears again “Tony and his bloody ego… of course he had to go like a legend!”

           Back inside the house, everyone seemed to recall their best “typical Tony Stark” memories as Captain and Bruce shared one of their thousandth Avengers adventure. Peter decided to step back as he still couldn’t believe he was gone. He found himself staring at a picture of him and Tony in the kitchen, it was the one they had taken inside the Stark Industries’ building as a proof of his pretending internship back when Aunt May didn’t know he was Spiderman. Those were happier times, he thought.

“He always loved this picture” Pepper stated as she walked into the kitchen with a few empty plates. She looked strong and humble though it probably was harder for her than any of them.

“I just don’t get why it had to be like this… that’s unfair

-         That’s life, Peter. Tony knew what he was doing, he knew the risks

-         He shouldn’t have done this…

-         We’re talking about Tony Stark, she added with a bittersweet smile, do you think he could live with that? I watched him look at this picture every single day and I knew that… eventually he’ll try and find a way to bring you back.

-         To bring “us” back…” Peter corrected as he couldn’t deal with the thought Tony would go through this just for him.

When Pepper failed to answer, the guilt became too strong and he choked again.

“I miss him so much” he sobbed as Pepper gave him a motherly hug, pecking the top of his head. He had met some strong women in his short life, but Pepper was by far the toughest one.

“Really, mom???”

Y/N was standing by the doorway, obviously upset that her mother would comfort anyone involved in his father’s death. For some reason, she seemed angrier at Peter than anyone else.

“Y/N, come on….” Pepper sighed as she watched her daughter storm off to her room, “I’m sorry Peter, it’s a hard pill to digest for her…”

When Pepper left the room, Peter truly felt like he had this family broken forever.

“You wanna go home?”

Aunt May was standing there with hers and Peter’s coats above her arms.

“Yeah… let’s go…” he sighed, giving one last look to the picture.

“Goodbye Mr Stark.”

[orderoftheavengers]

Hufflepuff Rescue

Summary: Only a true Hufflepuff could put up with a Slytherin like Tony for all those years!

House: Hufflepuff

Species: Human/Salamander hybrid (formerly Human)

Blood Status: Muggleborn (sans one possibly magic uncle)

Wand: Hazel, 10 inches, jackalope antler

Broom: the Rescue Mark-7

Patronus: Giant flaming rabbit from Hell

Specialties: Charms, practical magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts

Sorting

Pepper would've made a fine Ravenclaw, but her most defining traits are Hufflepuff ones. She's a workaholic; insanely (some would say literally) loyal to her friends and employers; empathetic and sensitive; and has an almost superhuman ability to tolerate damn near anyone. The fact that she would accept whatever House the Hat chose for her only increased her candidacy for Hufflepuff.

"You're all I have too, Tony."

When Virginia Potts received her letter from Hogwarts, her Muggle family did not outright disown her; but they distanced themselves from her, and made their disdain for her magic clear. She was miserable at home, and took every extra job and class she could to stay in the magical world over the summer and holidays. (Though American, Pepper's family had recently moved to the U.K. for business related reasons.)

Virginia Potts was extremely skilled at charms, and her wand frequently rained excess sparks when she wielded it. Friends joked that she had the "hot-pepper wand," leading to her Hogwarts nickname Pepper. Ms. Potts was more than happy to keep this new identity, and took to using her Muggle first name only for legalities. Early into her first year, Pepper was ecstatic to get hired by a rich classmate, for a summer job at

Stark Castle

When Pepper wrote to her family explaining that she wouldn't be home for summer break, they wrote back politely implying that they preferred it that way.

Her fellow Hufflepuffs laughed, fretted, or had nervous breakdowns when they learned who Pepper was going to spend the summer working for. They all assumed that Tony Stark would either discount Pepper immediately for being a "mudblood," or would hire her only to troll her mercilessly. Neither was the case. Howard Stark himself had been a muggleborn Slytherin, who'd worked his way up the wizard social ladder from nothing, and the Starks had never bought into prejudice of any kind. (Howard worked with a female auror Peggy Carter in the '40s, and was married to a Ravenclaw named Maria; Tony's two best homeboys Happy and Rhodey were both Gryffindors.) Pepper's Muggle background actually contributed to her hiring, as Tony had an affinity for Muggle cars and food, and one of his best friends, Happy Hogan, was a Muggleborn.

Tony was, however, every bit as much of a headache as he was infamous for. But Pepper was made of much stronger stuff than even her best friends credited her for. Tony's Slytherin-to-the-max traits run amok were tempered by Pepper's Hufflepuff patience, grounded focus, and sensitivity. She established herself quickly as someone neither Tony nor his Veela dancers could screw around with, and took great pride in her job.

Things changed in forth year, when Tony was captured by Neo Death Eaters and has a magical amulet implanted in his chest.

Despite her love for her job, and the chance to see Tony Stark's bare chest, Pepper was not enthused to help change his chest amulet. ("There's puss!" "It's not puss, it's just poisoned basilisk venom mixed with phoenix tears, calm down.") She was understandably upset to find Tony working in his dungeon lab on a dangerously experimental broom, for missions that could get him killed. She reminded him, "You're all I have too, Tony." She eventually came to except Tony as a vigilante; but still freaked out when he attempted to drive a Muggle race car and set himself on fire.

Proof My Slytherin Has a Heart

....is what Pepper had magically inscribed on Tony's Christmas present: his old chest amulet, framed in two silver snakes forming a heart.

The entire school squeed at the unlikely Hufflepuff/Slytherin hookup. Fortunately, the pair did not have to face as much antagonism as a Slytherin/Non-Slyth couple in "Harry Potter's" day might have. Any negativity they did face was met with Tony's wrath. But everyone knew Stark's best friends were comprised almost entirely of non-Slytherins, and most people weren't dumb enough to hassle him about it.

Night of the Flaming Lepus

After Loki's attack on Hogwarts, Tony developed PTSD and became paranoid about protecting everyone, especially Pepper. He taught her as much Defense Against the Dark Arts as he could, but she really struggled with conjuring her Patronus. The tiny wisp she managed to squeeze from her wand resembled a very nonthreatening looking bunny.

That Christmas, Tony surprised Pepper with a giant rabbit he'd bought on the magical black market, thinking bigger = better. She didn't like it, as it had a tendency to eat chunks out of furniture, block the fireplace, and eat all of the magical plants around the Hufflepuff commonroom. They all got fed up, and Pepper magically teleported the eleven-foot rabbit down to the Slytherin commonroom, causing some awkwardness for Tony, who was already getting on his fellow Slytherins' nerves.

Shortly afterwards, the Slytherin commonroom was obliterated by Tony's enemies. Fortunately no one was killed--except, sadly, the giant rabbit.

But it lived on in spirit...

The villain who'd tried to kill Tony turned out to be Pepper's ex boyfriend, a Ravenclaw named Alderich Killian, whom she'd dated back in first year. Killian, once a regular human wizard, had transformed himself and several henchmen into Salamander hybrids, granting them fire-shooting and regeneration powers. Killian captured Pepper, and subjected her to a painful transformation that made her too part-Salamander.

While trying to rescue Pepper atop the Astronomy tower, Tony failed to catch her, and saw her seemingly plummet into an inferno below. Suffering a sudden attack of amnesia regarding Pepper's new powers, Tony thought she was dead, and in a Heroic Blue Screen of Death, went for Killian's blood. But Tony didn't have his wand or his broom with him, and was no match for the fire-breathing lizard man. 

Killian prepared for the killing blow, when he was interrupted by an a voice screaming, "Expecto Patronum!" He and Tony both turned to see Pepper, glowing red with her new Salamander powers, aiming her wand at Killian. Flames traveled up her arm to her wand, mixing with her patronus as it emerged. An eleven-foot-tall rabbit made entirely out of fire charged at Killian, barring fangs with flaming eyes straight out of "Watership Down." Killian died screaming like a teletubby, just before the bunny from Hell leaped across the roof and bit his head off.

Staring up at his lover, Tony quipped, "I got nothing."

Tony offered to cure Pepper of her condition, to which she replied, "Why in the name of Merlin's facial hair would I want to lose these kickass powers? I like being a Hot Pepper!"

Tony then apologized for the sh*t he'd put her through, and blew up all of his brooms, creating a shower of fireworks for her and Hogwarts. (And an excuse for himself to build new brooms.)

Lovers Divided Get Reunited... Then Divided Again

After going through all that hell together, it seemed nothing was going to break Pepper and Tony up. Then Tony accidentally created a super-annoying gargoyle villain that destroyed Durmstrang, and Pepper declared it time for them to "take a break." That Halloween, she went home for the first holiday in years. After half a week back in the Muggle world, Pepper remembered why she'd left, and hurried back to Hogwarts.

She was not surprised to learn that Tony had been involved in a violent drunken Quidditch game. However, she was shocked to hear he and Rhodey were both at St. Mungo's, for physical and psychological damage respectively. Rhodey had been transformed into a merman, with Healers unable to restore his legs. Tony meanwhile had undergone an experience that would have broken far more stable people than him. Pepper did not have nice words for Steve Rogers after she learned the whole story. She did, however, have an eleven-foot-tall, hopping-mad, flaming Patronus ready for him. Rumor has it Steve grew the beard in the hopes of disguising himself from the Hell Bunny.

Pepper saw Tony emerge from the sh*t pile that was his life with a shocking new maturity. Well, mature for Tony; he was still snarking like a petulant child to Stephen Strange.  But otherwise, he was more sensible and stable than she'd ever seen him. He devoted himself to mentoring a cute little Ravenclaw with spider powers, and building more magical shields and gadgets to protect the world from Titan invaders. At graduation, Tony gave Pepper the most awkward proposal in history. She wrinkled her nose at first, but came around and said, "What the hell."

Then a new kid with a cape resembling Ming the Merciless stole Tony from Pepper, and took him for a ride on a giant flying donut.

Not An Entirely Muggle Family?

Shortly before Strange arrived to steal Pepper's boyfriend, Tony related to her what he'd seen in the crystal ball in Divination class that morning (after several eye-rolling innuendos about "balls," naturally). In the crystal, he saw them have a baby together, and named the child after Pepper's "eccentric uncle," whose name happened to be Morgan. (Note: That's canon.)  Uncle Morgan was one of the few relatives who didn't shun Pepper after her Hogwarts letter, though he was extremely strange. Pepper didn't see him perform magic, and Uncle Morgan wouldn't elaborate on the subject--or, more precisely, he would elaborate, exaggerate, and then truncate. Tony speculated that Uncle Morgan may have been a Muggleborn who'd somehow gotten himself expelled from Hogwarts.

A Hufflepuff Rescue

After the Snap, Tony and Pepper eloped, and Pepper indeed gave birth to a baby girl, who they named Morgan. Determined to protect his family, Tony built Pepper a new upgraded broom, wand, and impenetrable robes. She loved the color purple, but Tony chose royal purple and gold for other reasons as well. Sick of seeing his queen underrated and often dismissed as "Tony Stark's mudblood servant," Tony wanted to make sure no one mistook his wife's role in his life ever again. Pepper wore and wielded these accessories in the final battle against Thanos.

At one point in the fight, a man with an old-fashioned camera interrupted the battle to request that all of the females in the Hogwarts army gather at one area, and strike badass poses. The man was Denis Creevey, and explained that this photo was for the Daily Prophet's issue on Witch's History Month. The Avengers, Thanos, and all parties sighed and begrudgingly put their epic battle on hold to meet Creevey's request. Creevey then hurried off the battlefield, and the fight resumed. Weeks later, the Prophet's front page featured an undeniably smashing (somewhat literally!) moving portrait of all the witches fighting for Hogwarts, plus Deadpool in drag.

Pepper was horrified when Tony used the Infinity Wand to seemingly sacrifice himself and dust Thanos and his army. But even then, her Hufflepuff loyalty and compassion prevailed. She accepted Tony's sacrifice, and told him, "you can rest now."

She was of course, overjoyed to have her husband resurrected. She was less happy the following year, when Tony took a potion that allowed him to talk to animals, and adopted a number of very talkative exotic creatures, but that's a story for another day.

Wand, Patronus

Rabbits and jackalopes are known to be soft and maternal, yet tricksy and clever. And anyone who has seen "Watership Down" knows not to be fooled by their cuteness.

AN: A lot of people peg both Pepper and Tony as Ravenclaws, and I get it. J.K. herself would likely sort them there, if not straight into Gryffindor like most of the important characters (sigh). But I'm basing the Sorting partially on the characters' roles in the series. Pepper is brilliant, but her role is that of a loyal workaholic and empathetic lover, while Tony's is that of a genius who just. Never. Quits. Plus, the Hufflepuff/Slytherin dynamic was impossible to resist.

[captainhotch]

Have a Heart | Tony Stark

tony stark x reader

ENDGAME SPOILERS — even though the spoiler ban has been officially lifted

puuuure angst, another one that i CRIED while i wrote, i’m sorry. idk how to write endgame in any other way tbh.

masterlist

As soon as you saw the guantlet on Tony’s hand, you knew.

You had seen what it had done to Thanos— to Bruce. Both men almost died, both far stronger and larger then your husband.

A part of you couldn’t help but to be proud. If Tony Stark was going to go out, he was going to go out a hero. He was going to go out saving the world. The world that you and your daughter lived it.

As Tony prepared to snap his eyes met yours it what could only be described as a silent goodbye. Thor stood behind you with his hand on you shoulder, watching as the world turned white for a second before Thanos’s minions began to turn to dust.

You rushed over to your husband, falling beside Peter as you reached out to grab the man’s hand. To let him know that you were there— always. Ton’s eyes were heavy, you could tell. He was trying so hard to keep them open— to see you one last time.

“I love you,” you sobbed, holding his hand up to your mouth, “I love you so much. And I’m so proud of you.” You cradled his face in your hands, watching as he tried to twitch his lips up into a smile.

“You’re my entire world— you and that kid we made.” He chuckled— you could tell it was painful.

You pressed a kiss onto his lips, barely noticing the salty taste of your tears. “We’ll be okay— I promise.”

“I know,” Tony whispered, his head falling against the piece of debree he was leaned up against, “take care of Peter.”

“I will— I’ll take care of it all. You can go now Tony. We’ll be okay. I love you.”

“You too, so much.”

And then his eyes closed and it felt like a piece of you left with him. You couldn’t even celebrate the victory, holding your dead husband— the love of your life in your arms. Peter clung to your side, crying along with you.

You thought you had been lucky after the snap— all things considered. You were one of the few who still had the one that mattered most to them. And then you had your daughter and it felt like you could learn to be okay again.

But Tony Stark was a hero.

And your love for the man— his love for everyone around him, was proof enough that Tony Stark did indeed have a heart.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

It is indeed a good thing Tony is “Ready for Weirdness” because the events that occur in this six panel snack commercial are without a doubt one of the most utterly mindboggling things I’ve ever seen

We all know that Hostess adverts have always been a nightmarish window into a world of frightening and nonsensical pie logic...a world where everything from bank robbers to aliens to costumed supervillains to wanted war criminals can have their schemes foiled by a man or woman in a costume tossing a fruit pie at them and convincing them (Or in some cases an inanimate object) to eat it and give a monologue about that Flaky Crust and Real Fruit Filling or gush at length about the Chocolatey Icing

But even by the truly surreal standards of these ads...ads where a villain was once turned into a chair...this one takes the (Hostess cup) cake

Let’s dissect this panel by panel:

Waterman shows up apparently hating “Dry people”...does he live in water? Is he MADE of water? IT IS UNCLEAR. He has some control over water that is obvious but more importantly apparently he also controls things that water rusts? HOW? WHY? What good will this do him? WHY DOES HE THINK HUMANS CAN RUST

The panel with Tony suiting up is the closest thing to normalcy we’ll get here and when a costumed cyborg businessman putting on his Robot Armour to beat up a liquid man is what passes for normal that says a lot

“I can always smell trouble...AND WATER!”

What...what does the water smell like?

Do I want to know?

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN TONY

It’s like this dialogue was translated into french then german then swedish then latin then back into english...all by someone who spoke Absolutely None Of Those Languages

Waterman, apparently as skilled at Witty Banter as he is at villainy declares “YOU CAN SMELL WATER...BUT CAN YOU TAKE IT WITHOUT RUSTING!?” and again I really have to question where he got this idea into his head that just getting things wet makes things rust in seconds because...that’s not how water or rust work and as a man made of water with Powers over Rust he should really be aware of this

But no no he is not apparently.

Also this is now my favourite Supervillain Threat ever purely because it is so effing stupid

And speaking of Nonsense Iron Man then declares that he’ll “Rust to death” which is just genuinely ALARMING...what in the nine realms does that nonsense MEAN Tony? YOU ARE A HUMAN. RUST CANNOT KILL YOU

Well unless you cut yourseld and get tetanus I guess but that doesn’t seem to be your concern here...is he saying that the Robot Heart he has isn’t rust proof? Because that’s...TROUBLING...if that thing isn’t rust proof then all it’s going to take is not using a towel properly after a shower to kill him...

In the next panel we learn Waterman’s Evil Scheme/Motivation and it’s quite possibly the most bizarre thing about this mess: HE WANTS TO STEAL CUPCAKES FROM THE EMPLOYEE BREAK ROOM AT STAR INDUSTRIES

Now assuming that he doesn’t have money to just legally purchase Hostess Cupcakes (Probably a safe assumption here) is he aware that you can literally find Hostess Cupcakes in stores up and down the country? They are EVERYWHERE in this Hostess Universe. If he wanted to steal some he could have robbed a 7-11 or a Walmart or something hell he could have just knocked over a gas station...but no he decides to steal other peoples Hostess Cupcakes and not only that but to steal them from the break room of a business that’s famous for having an ARMOURED CYBORG WARRIOR protecting it...one who as we see here WILL NOT HESISTATE TO MURDER YOU IF YOU TRY AND STEAL HIS FUCKIN CUPCAKES

Because that guy is DEAD in the next panel

Tony “Turned him to steam”

TONY STARK JUST MURDERED A MAN FOR TRYING TO RAID THE BREAK ROOM SNACK TABLE

And from his cavalier attitude here he’ll clearly do it again HIS BLOOD LUST IS UNQUENCHABLE

And then we have the denouement which is far more horrifyingly morbid than your average snack cake ad...there’s no villain good naturedly talking about how they don’t mind being foiled because they got a pie here...nope that guy is Murdered As Hell and instead the terrified employees sing the praises of the iron murderer who just killed a man to keep that Devils Food Cake out of his moist hands...while Iron Man declares how he has to “Keep moving”...yes Iron Man...RUN...RUN FROM YOUR SHAME...YOUR GUILT...YOUR MONSTROUS CRIMES

The best part?

I’ve read all the Iron Man Hostess ads...AND THEY ARE ALL LIKE THIS. Every single one. Some of them are even more fuckin surreal in fact. It’s AMAZING.

Like most of the other Hostess ads operate on some kind of Strange Logic and are even in character in some ways...the Aquaman ones have him protecting the ocean, Batman and Wonder Woman get to fight some of their foes from the comics hell there’s a Captain America one where the Cosmic Cube and the Red Skull show up as the threat...these were clearly written by people with some kind of familiarity with the characters and who tried to make this Pie Throwing Nonsense at least sort of in keeping with them

But for these ads I genuinely wonder if the writer had NO IDEA who Iron Man was and just cobbled together something out of snippets of things he’d heard...for one thing they seem convinced that Iron Man is indeed made of iron and some kind of Robot Creature who can rust to death

For another literally none of Iron Man’s actual rogues show up in this...it’s all people like Waterman here and some of them make him look downright mundane...

Then again given that a good 90% of Iron Man’s rogues at the times were either based on

a) Fifties Cold War Paranoia

B) Racism

or

C) Both

It could just be that the writer of this couldn’t bring themself to have Titanium Man show up declaring “BAH! The decadent capitalistic dogs of the west...if only they did not make such delicious snack cakes with Real Fruit Filling!” as his plan to bring down democracy was foiled by the power of the Hostess company

[pigtailedgirl]

Tony Stark Ends My MCU in Endgame

Just sharing some stuff I did on dreamwidth with a few updates. I’m new to tumblr, give me patience.

Here is why I'm never watching another MCU film or giving money to them or Marvel if I can help it. Tony Fucking Stark. The capitulation to and adoration of both RDJ and that character shows me that their brand of heroism is nothing I want to do with. Endgame validated his worldview and I can't reconcile. Look. I'm no big fan of Tony or Iron Man. Been tolerating since Avengers. Been outright thinking he deserved a tell off and comeuppance since Civil War. Did not believe he'd get it, but thought, well, thought at the least he'd still be not outright unchallenged or proven right. Basically, I was wrong in that I thought the films were conscious of his flaws they were highlighting, and that even if they could never be confirmed or explored while RDJ was onboard, because I think RDJ would never consent to looking bad because he's a narcissist and he has star power, they were there, canon, and recognized with subtlety. And I had other models of heroes in Steve and Thor to say Tony is not the only version of hero to emulate. Iron Man as a character through his movies and the Avengers film is a hero born of guilt and mired in a complex selfishness. I thought this always but especially with repeat viewings. He's fascinating because he does help people, and commit good acts, but it is born not from a desire to care for others. It's often a side-affect of his overwhelming ego. That is the kind of hero Tony is. A selfishly, not selflessly motivated one.

I eventually got very tired of Tony not seeing others around him that were hurt instead of helped by his brand of heroism. A replacement for his brand of weapons at Stark Industries or his rock-star persona. Or seeing others at all. It's something that regardless of results, I think society needs to re-examine the strength of. The ego. The self. An American world doesn't need more internal selfishness to admire. It should wear Tony down in a very different way than the MCU reflects. It should have a foil and a cost. Endgame has erased and ignored this, validated and lionized Tony as a hero role-model, to an awful degree. To start Tony is made weak in the opening and given his monologue goodbye to Pepper to garner sympathy. For him. Not for Pepper. Not for Nebula do they have kindly interaction together; we are squarely with and in Tony POV. It's re-occurring, this sainted POV of Tony in this film. You'll notice it especially in his funeral, when he’s already dead, as on-lookers who have no connection or tenuous relation to him gather and mourn because to the film he's the icon of the MCU and the hero.

This POV is not extended to others, say Natasha’s loss. The film has a central character it is focusing and idenitfying with, and it’s Tony Stark.

The main thrust of argument in the film is also weighted in Tony's favor. Tony gets off the ship on Earth. To be hugged and comforted by his foil Steve. He is fragile and we linger on his emaciated frame in his argument with Steve and the others. We linger on him in bed after, surrounded by caring loved ones. Held back by Rhodey. Our sympathy is supposed to be centered squarely on him. Yet his argument itself is devoid of logic or reason or compassion for others that are not himself. 1) Ultron was evil and the Iron Legion was causing civil unrest even before and is gone through no others decision. Tony never rebuilt it. 2) The reason the Avengers were not working together in Civil War and after was entirely because of Tony. It's Tony who got the olive branch of a phone Steve sent and hasn't used it. Indeed Steve came as soon as Bruce and Rhodey phoned. It's Tony who went to space and left the others behind. It's Tony who lost trust and therefore tracking of Vision causing him to go off-grid. It's Tony who agreed with the accords, has since broken the accords, and has since not done anything to demolish them. Accords which Ross wanted to use to stay hands in Infinity War as well. 3)Tony is in a room playing photos of the dusted, came with a woman who's sister is murdered, and can only focus on his hurt about the Snap. On losing Peter, because of what it means to him. Of the others not being with him to comfort him in his time of battle and loss. His priority is his pain alone. It's supremely selfish. It's given no rebuttal because the narrative agrees his pain is what matters. So characters feel sad for him instead of anger or their own hurt. If they don’t agree with him, no time is devoted to seeing that.This is where you expect an argument. A reflection by everyone. A hash-out on the priority of one's personal pain versus the whole universe's losses. None ever comes. The film avoids another interesting conflict on selfishness vs selflessness to approve of onlyTony when in the five year gap it celebrates in Tony's family, at the expense of everyone else refusing to move on. Only Tony gets happiness in time through his not thinking about others. Now Tony does regret Peter. So Tony decides to help reverse the Snap. But he is given zero push back on the decision to do so entirely for his benefit, that it is his alleviation of feeling Peter's loss, and not for the world's losses, or Peter's loss independant of Tony. Again it’s a selfish and self-motivatied choice. 

That Tony refuses to give up his 5 year family, which will come at the expense of 5 years lost to the returned, of the collateral we saw take place in Infinity War, at the deaths and changes since is not examined because the narrative doesn’t care to disagree with Tony. I'm not saying erasing Tony's family is right, heroic, or a choice he or the film should advocate for. But there is zero thought or discussion to the idea that Tony's family or pain is not all there is to consider in this plan. Where is Thor, saying how dare you value your happiness over all the dead of Asgard? Where's Natasha mad at her effort to keep everyone together, including world crisis prevention? Where is Carol with the universe as a whole perspective? Where is Banner saying help me at least not kill ourselves trying? Where is Clint not wanting to be a killer when his family comes back? Where is any nuance that just because Tony wants this in this way, it's not the only way everyone would feel. This film never puts anything above Tony's feelings. This extends to his heroic sacrifice at the end. The final two ways the film absolutely prides Tony's view versus anything else are his death and mourning. Tony is treated as the ultimate hero. Out of 14 million scenarios, it takes him alone to win. Him using the stones barehanded when all others couldn't. Him saving the world. His ultimate sacrifice and entirely his choice. All about him. It's not selfless that way. It's killing yourself yes, it’s saving others, but you are the ultimate universe saver. The ultimate avenger. You defeat the bad guy. Not bring people back in an act of return, but in an act of rightfulness you fix what you've been complaining others wouldn't let you and defeat evil all by yourself. Your entire motivation is rewarded, because you protect the universe by killing all your bad guy enemies. Rooted in how you feel and what you want. His final line "And I am Iron Man" a rebuke to anyone who doubts the greatness of him. Tony was right and perfect everyone. Listen up.  But there is no self-sacrifice here, because it's not about him losing. Oh, fans will mourn him. Lament Tony's lost family and happiness. Rally against his pain in dying. But Tony doesn't. There is no reflection in the film from him on the potential cost or the reality in the moment. No care is extended to the daughter's feelings or Pepper's or his friends. Nothing is about the impact or loss he'd feel of leaving them. Instead he's, like always, the focus. The film is entirely about losing him and how it's the worst for you and the world. That is what the film wants you to be sad about in these moments. Every character props him. Steve's tears. Peter's "Mr. Stark we won", and Pepper's "You can rest now." It's all about making Tony look good. This continues with the funeral. Morgan talking to Happy being about a callback to cheeseburgers Tony loved. Tony Stark 's first reactor is “Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart” floating away, wreathed in flowers. It's all tribute to the man and only about him. That's not selfless, it's self-aggrandizing. The character has gained no humility or grace. Just more fame. I'm not interested in that. In fact I'm angry. The overarching message of his rightness also destroys his foil, Steve. Who stands behind Pepper at the funeral? Steve. Who stands with Tony throughout the film? Steve. As his character's end, Steve adopts Tony's mindset of not being a selfless hero and chooses to do as Tony did and think only of what Steve currently wants. Peggy. In the past. At others expense. Steve chooses to be a selfish hero. As does Thor going off the rails in film and off with the guardians and abandoning his people. Marvel thinks that's the right way. A summation of all their films and a thing to look back on and celebrate as Tony hologram's monologue tells us. All heroes are reduced to the Tony Stark role model. It tells me they never thought Tony's world-view was a problem. And I disagree. Or they wanted to honor him so they warped everything else to work it. If they do it once, twice, always...well, what next? So I'm done.

[parkneroses]

Can you please do pepperoni with 44 :)

44 - “I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but what are you doing?”word count: 1079  |  if you enjoy this, buy me a coffee?

Pepper paced up and down the living room. Every couple of minutes, the faint echo of Tony’s howled profanity echoed in the room around her. Nothing out of the ordinary- Tony had always had a sailor’s mouth when he thought Pepper couldn’t hear him. She’d heard tales of his obscenity on missions from the rest of the team, but she always made a quick exit from that conversation. The Avengers didn’t need to know if Tony’s potty mouth was that bad in bed (which, no, it wasn’t). They had Avenging to do. Yes, the screams of anguish were a pretty normal occurrence, but what wasn’t normal was this. Pepper decided she would try again.

“Friday, open up. Gotta bring Tony lunch.” She said into the air.

“Sorry Miss Potts. Tony requested not to open the door for you.” Friday replied, sounding somewhat sorry. And, well, Pepper couldn’t really blame the AI for that. Friday was programmed by Tony, and he knew how she could get when she didn’t know what was going on in her own house. The iron legion was a prime example of that.

“Well, what is he doing in there?” She knew she wouldn’t get a clear answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Boss has asked that I do not inform you of anything he is doing in his lab, Miss Potts.”

Well. This was new. It was one thing to not let her in the lab- dangerous chemicals, open flames, not-so-controlled explosions and the like were unbridled in Tony’s lab. But not even letting her know what he was doing? That was suspicious.

She took a step forward towards the door. The glass lit up red.

“Miss Potts, if you attempt to go through this door, I will be forced to activate the Intruder Protocol,” Friday said, sounding even sorrier than she had before.

A protocol? That made this a lot easier than she’d expected.

“Friday, override Intruder Protocol, and open the door.”

The red light dimmed and the door unlocked with a heavy click. Pepper made her way down the stairs to the lab.

*

Tony fiddled with the pliers in his hand. They were tiny, yes, but still far too big to bend the skinny tendrils of silver for his newest project. He let the pliers drop to the ground in despair. He was trying so, so hard but it felt like God was against him in this. “Friday, turn down the music,” he asked. The AC/DC album blasting through the lab was lowered accordingly. This was no time for happy music. Somehow during his existential crisis, he missed Pepper walking into the lab. She walked up to the bench he was sitting at (though it was more like he was lying on it at this point) and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Tony.”

His head shot up.

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but what are you doing?” She asked the amalgamation of flesh and coffee that was thrown across the table in front of her.

“Pepper! Pepper, how lovely it is to see my beautiful, wonderful wife this fine afternoon” He blabbered as he scrambled to cover the pieces of metal and cubic zirconia scattered on the workbench in front of him. Pieces clattered on the ground, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It’s not like the project was going anywhere in the first place.

Pepper uncrossed her arms and let them hang at her sides. He was alone in the lab, not that she’d even thought him capable of cheating. She darted her eyes around the room. There were no fires, no explosions, no children (that one had not been a fun conversation). The lab actually looked pretty clean compared to what she was used to. The only visible messes in the room were the scrap pieces of metal on the table in front of her, and the man behind it who clearly hadn’t slept in far too long.

“Don’t- don’t look. It’s a secret. A surprise actually. Not that it’s working. Wasn’t Friday supposed to keep you out?” Tony stuttered out. Pepper nodded her head.

“Override protocol. Don’t let it crush your ego, but I was kind of scared you’d injured yourself. Or found another prodigy child you were hiding from me.” She said. It was a low blow, but she was still kind of mad at him for blocking her from the lab without even telling her why.

Tony’s shoulders slumped. “Forgot about that,” he muttered under his breath. He lifted himself off the table slowly, careful not to knock anything else to the floor. “I can’t do it Pep” he whined.

Pepper crouched down to look at the newly uncovered pieces on the table. There was a dainty silver chain, fragments of some kind of gem that she hoped desperately weren’t diamond, and what looked to be a tiny frame of some kind. She looked up at her husband, silently questioning him with her eyes.

Tony looked down at his hands, disappointment visible on his face, and began to twiddle his thumbs.

“Jewellery making. It’s so hard. I can do nuclear physics but I can’t make a damn necklace. I’m a goddamn genius and I can’t make a goddamn motherfucking necklace. I can’t believe this.” He mumbled softly.

Pepper’s powerful gaze softened at that. She leaned closer to him.

“Why were you making a necklace, Tony?” She asked, voice gentle and calm.

Tony shuffled his chair to the side and pointed at something on the shelf behind him. Realising she couldn’t see what he was pointing at, he gestured to his chest. Pepper looked back behind him and everything clicked in her mind. There behind him, pride of place on his shelf of trophies and awards, sat the arc reactor pepper had framed for him. Proof that Tony Stark has a heart. The frame on the table was the metal part, and the gems were the glass.

Tony hadn’t let her into the lab because he was making her a necklace.

An arc reactor necklace.

Like Pepper was all the proof the world needed that Tony Stark did indeed have a heart.

She felt her skin warm lightly as she looked into the eyes of the man that she loved so very much. Sure, living with Tony was a dangerous, noisy, confusing existence, but in that moment Pepper knew she would choose life with that man over anything.

[themetalvitruvian]

The Promise Ring

A Stony vague Regency!AU

———

“There’s something I’ve never told you. Something I’m not sure how to say.”

The statement shocks Steve. To hear it coming from Tony’s mouth is foreign, indeed. In fact, to see him unnerved and awkward like this has left Steve feeling like he’s out in the ocean with no paddle, and he’s not sure how to return.

Steve had been grooming his horse, Justina, for two hours. Picking musk from her hooves, braiding her tail, and brushing her coat after cleaning her stall. His fine clothes had become worn with dirt and other messes that come with tending to horses by yourself.

It wasn’t exactly the preferred state he had hoped Tony would find him in. But he had bursted through the stable doors anyway, face flushed but determined.

“You can.. take your time?” He tries, feeling his fingers shake. He gently puts Justina’s foot down, before patting her side in gratitude. How does one confront something so outside of someone’s personality like this? “Is this about the ring?”

That clams Tony up, damnit. That was the last thing that he wanted, “because if it’s about the ring that’s okay. It’s beautiful, I can give it back, if you want it back.”

“No! It’s...” tony pauses, face flush at the cheeks but somehow pale on his bony knuckles, “do you- I...” he swallows hard, hard enough that Steve can hear it from three feet away, though it isn’t hard for him to hear distant things anyway.

“Is it the-“

“Steve!” Tony pleads, “stop. I just... I’m having a tough time here, just, uh, saying what I want. I...” he pauses again, eyes cast above his head towards the heavens as if looking for an answer, “I’ve never... done this before. I don’t- I didn’t expect to be here, with you. I didn’t know that I had fallen into this so easily, it’s felt so simple, so quick to me. Are we, uh, on the same page?”

“Tony, I don’t know what you’re saying.” Steve reasons, clarity lacking in his mind, “are you... saying that you are happy with me or are you sad?”

“I’m happy! I’m... so unbelievably, unexpectedly happy. I thought this was a one night thing. I gave you that ring, but-“ he swallows hard again and shifts from one foot to the other as his eyes look about the room and avoid Steve.

“Ah.” He says simply, in return.

“No! Please don’t misunderstand. When you found that ring, I wasn’t exactly ready. I, uh had not planned on gifting it to you then.”

Steve feels his face flame, and he ducks his head and stares at his shoes, “okay-“

“-But! That doesn’t mean I regret it! That’s.. that’s all I wanted to say. I’m glad we’re here, now. With my ring on a chain around your neck. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Truly. Honestly. Do you believe me?”

Steve brings himself to look Tony in the eye, and sees his earnest honestly. It’s something all Starks have, something no Stark can hide. Though it might not seem so to anyone else but himself, and perhaps Natasha, the Starks are very poor liars.

“How could I not?” Steve says in return, tension leaking away from his chest to provide some relief.

Tension is still heavy in the air until Tony crosses the distance that spans between them and holds Steve’s shoulders firmly between his hands, “believe in me, Steve. I could never regret this. Even if it were by accident, I could never regret asking you to be mine. And I, yours.”

Steve places his hands on Tony’s hips before sliding them up towards his rib cage ever so slowly. Suddenly, he wants to feel every curve of him, he wants that proof, “you could allow yourself this?” He asks, pulling tony inches closer, until their heat is shared between their bodies, “companionship?”

“If it’s you. If it’s you, I could do anything.” He admits breathlessly. Steve can hear his heart beat pick up, see his eyes become dilated. He can even feel Tony soften his stance under his hands. How easily he moulds under his touch, so eager to be loved. And Steve would give that to him, gladly. For the rest of his life, “this gift is... my intention.”

It feels heavy around his neck. It also feels warm. Steve has the urge to grasp it so he does, and his heart beats in a frenzy between his ears. His other hand snakes around Tony’s back and pulls flush with his spine. They’re so close now, hardly modestly separate.

“We’ve not been at this long, but I find myself in agreement. Had I a ring, I would present it to you in return. If you give me time, I will.” He promises, meaning it with his entire soul behind it.

“I know, I...” Tony laughs and it’s a wonderful, beautiful thing, “I know.”

“Good.”

Tony’s lips gradually turn up into a small smile. He looks down and away, before meeting Steve’s eyes again, “good.” He says, firm. Believing. Sure.

The rest of the tension leaves Steve’s body, and he finds himself unable to prevent the smile taking over his face.

“Good.” He says again, causing Tony to laugh once more. Music to his ears, really.

[maagicmiss]

Endgame spoilers !! Beware the spoil !!

This movie was amazing. With a lot of humor, which never fall flat. I was dumbfounded from the beginning to the end tbh Nobody asked for it but there is my hot take of Avengers 4 :

I felt really bad for Thor because ya know, depression™️ but damn the surprise/shock made me laugh. Noobmaster is an absolute evil that we need to end. They kinda did him dirty, I really wasn’t wanting for that but eh 🤷🏻‍♀️ Broken man 😔 Everytime I think about how much he lost I die inside a little more. Rocket was the real best dude here. Cheers to him. I was so fck happy for him when he got his hammer back !!! Like !!! "I’m still worthy" !!!!! You go you funky thunderous man !!! He deserves to be happy at all cost. Protect this man. During the last battle I was shook, with both his hammer and axe, fighting the purple asshole, so cool. Amazing, truly. Also, when he gave Valkyrie the commandment ?? My queen. She’s now my queen. By the way, we all know who’s in command of the Guardians now 🔥🔥😂

I can’t exprim how much I was sad for Natasha. When I saw them climbing this damned mountain I understood it was over for her 😭😭 I will love her until my dying breaths. She did deserve better but she died protecting her family, and the earth. She was the one who fought until the end, who did everything she could, and managed to avenge the earth. Thanks to her Thanos was defeated. Let’s honor her 😭👊🏻🔥

Clint. Like, dude. Pain. Angst. A bit of stupidity but that’s Clint so yeah. The assasinsbowl was ofc won by Natasha, and he lived. I would’ve been pissed if he died because he killed all this (bad indeed) people out of pettiness and sadness and anger for his family but he would’ve let himself die ? I understand. But like, dude. No. You’re a father. A husband. Natasha was ofc going to sacrifices herself instead of you.

HULK !!! My man. He’s happy and that’s all that matter 😭❤️ We stan a confident and humourus man y’all (Im still waiting for a height joke when Scott got aaaaaall huge in the end rip) Also, him being ashamed of his past self ??? Amazing. I couldn’t even in my wildest dreams lol I was dead when he met the old sorceress and got kicked out of his body lmaoo

STEVE. Or best known as America’s ass. Bae. I love that man. Everybody does. He did it. He did all his possible and it payed off. Also what a quick learner. When the hammer got lift, I was "W H O ???" Tbh I was thinking Loki, like "yo surprise bitches" but it was way better xD I think I screamed lmaooo But man, so fucking cool and impressive. That scene where he stand alone in front of Thanos and of his whole army ? With his broken shield ? I C O N I C. I am already seeing all the edit, gif, tribute, fanart and fanfic about it. I can’t wait y’all. Although, I was a bit disappointed about his closure ? Like yeaaah it was neat but... idk....... a bit dissatisfied and disappointed. The Steve/Steve was funny but also sad, idk. Although, Steve in the elevator saying Heil Hydra was beautiful.

Tony. I need to say it. Steve did him dirty. Like. Poor man. He didn’t deserve that, at all. I would’ve preferred Steve snapping down Thanos than him. He’s a father !! A husband too !!! Steve promised to him he wasn’t going to die. LIES, ALL LIES. I’m salty. But no hate for the blond man please. In the end, it was Tony choice. In the end with "The proof that Tony Stark has a heart" was heartbreaking. I wasn’t ready AT ALL. I’m not his biggest fan but oh damn, Sadness got me down. His daughter ? Pain. The little kid from Iron man 3 ?? Pain. Happy being sad ? Pain. Pepper ? Pain. I’m dead. He deserved better 😔 When he met his dad, I was dying. Dying of sadness but also of joy. Glad he could talk to him, and even hug him !!!!

Carol !!! THE bitch. I love her. She could walk on me and I would apologize. We didn’t saw her that much but ya know, it’s cool. I gave her entry a 9/10 because there wasn’t thunder lol (unlike Thor in Infinity War, who rightfully had a mighty 10/10). She was a queen. That haircut ? Beautiful.

Nebula. She’s my bae. Protect her. She’s doesn’t seem to need it but she does. Baby. She baby. But she’s a dangerous baby so be careful lmao Her killing in cold blood her past her (??? Was that suicide ?? Or murder ?? Or murder suicide idk ???) to protect her past sister was tragically sad and heartbreaking and beautiful. I’m saying a lot beautiful but hey I’m doing my best with my limited vocabulary. Nebula and her, and the guardian deserves happiness. Lowkey shooketh that nobody saw it was the past Nebula and not the right one but I’m going to excuse them by saying it the excitement of having all Infinity stones and of sadness for Natasha. Other way I’m about to throw hands 🤬😤

Iconic moment :

Carol saving Tony’s ass. We all knew that was how it gonna to happen but I was so relieved. 9/10.

Thor killing in cold blood Thanos in front of everyone, dead inside was wow, brutal. Not happiness out of it, no recomfort. Merciless, brutal, cold. He was here for the head and he got it. 7/10

Not an iconic moment but shush. The five years later ? I was astonished. It must have been 5 painful years. The world was in shred, dusts and broken people everywhere. Pain. Everything is blue, melancholic, broke. If I was one of the missing people coming back I would tell to every fucking one that joke "Hey, I’m gone like 5 seconds and everybody go apeshit ? What would you all do without me ?" Yeah im that bitch lmao 10/10 because you feel that emptiness and sadness.

Tony joining the idiots and Tired Steve™️ with an actual good plan in his fancy car with a lot of skids and other fancy stuff ? 10/10 good one, boi

That scene from Avengers 1 ? Then them on the side ? 6/10

Steve in that elevator ? You already know. 9/10

Steve commenting on his own ass ?? 1000/10 Trust me, it’s fair. Were waiting for that since Avengers 1.

I love Steve

Loki ?? Man, that dude is a joke but I love him. The face he made when he saw the case slide.... beautiful. The face he made when he jumped in the time hole ??? Iconic. 10/10. I want to know how everything is gonna to play with his series. I wanted more of him tbh I even was waiting for him in the last battle. By the way, is he still dead ? If he never went to Odin.... idk. Lowkey confused here.....

And last but not least :

The final battle.

Damn.

The fight between Iron Man, Thor, Captain and Thanos was intense. I was on the edge of my seat lmao It reminds me of their fight in Avengers 1, in the forest, for Loki. They were fighting against each other, now they’re fighting together 🔥👊🏻❤️ 9/10

Steve picking up the hammer ? 10/10 No comment, it’s fair. (The "I knew it" of Thor was priceless)

Steve getting a rematch on Thanos with both his shield and Hammer ? I C O N I C. 9/10 because it didn’t last long in my opinion.

Steve in front of the whole army ? Alone ? The face dirty of dirt and blood, the shield cut in half ? After he slowly stood up, even tho he was tired and probably had broken ribs ? How dare you not applause. That old man was ready to fight them all, and to fucking die. Stupid but amazing. 1001/10. Slightly better than him commenting on his own ass lmao (tag me if u ever do a fanart of this scene please)

Sam calling Steve ? Not iconic but still. I was dying and it cured me. My skin is clear, my debt are payed off, my grades are perfect and I’m now immortal.

The Powerful Women squad ? Damn. I love it. Sign me up for 10 movies about their shenanigans around the universe. 10/10

All the dead one coming back to life ? All the dead coming through the portals ? And looking badass af ?? Doctor Strange ? Wong ? Wanda ? Sam ? Bucky ? Spider man ? The Guardians looking sharp ? Black Panther with his sister and Okoye ? The Wankanda Army ? The spatial ships ? EVERYONE ????? Bitch Please, it was perfect. 10/10.

Tony snapping ? "I’m Iron Man." I was euphoric. 10/10. Then I was really sad. So 10/pain

"Proof that Tony Stark has an heart" ? A painful 7/10.

As you can read, I loved that movie. Like, very much, but, I’m a bit dissatisfied about the music. The Russos were idk, timid ? Shy about it. Most of them were old one, the themes of the characters and the principal theme (the one from avengers 1). Nothing too extraordinary, nor extravagant. Can do better.

Also, idk why but I found that Hulk was a bit weird ? Idk he seemed emotionless ? Maybe it’s only me but I didn’t like that much the CGI of Hulk this time.

Wanda. She barely spoke. Rip

Tony’s death. He shouldn’t have died.

Steve’s old days/death/idk. I’m not buying it. I don’t like it either. Glad Sam is Captain America now tho. Sad for Bucky. The dude is gonna end up alone in 2022 (or idk what years) with only Sam and Steve’s grandchildren or idk Rip dude

There is soooo much to say about this movie. Like, I write something down and something else is immediately coming up x) Maybe I’ll edit stuff later.

[dammit-stark]

For your prompt request - the team finding out that Clint has been secretly married to Coulson this whole time!

this ended up being really heavy on the Steve/Tony, but there’s still plenty of clint/coulson I promise!- also includes the dashieset dash of natmaria

There’s definitely A Look there. Hell, there have without a doubt been several of those shared, scandalous looks that most definitely are not sexually reputable. Tony thinks he has pretty good authority on sexually reputable vs not.

“Hey, Steve?” Tony jabs lightly at his partner’s side. They’re sitting at the kitchen counter, dually half asleep and enjoying a long breakfast Ask their teammates filter in and out, “I think something’s going on between Agent and Barton.”

Steve plays with his bacon. He’s got an arm slung around the back of Tony’s chair, “What makes you say that?”

“Are you kidding?” Tony steals a hash brown, “Were you here when they were just in here? Were you asleep? Did your sentience briefly leave that hot Adonis of a body?”

“Tony,” Steve warns- right, off track.

“That was the most sexually charged coffee pouring I’ve ever witnessed, Steve. And I’ve been part of some pretty sexually charged coffee pouring moments. There was that one time that-“

“Tony.”

“Right, sorry.”

“What’s your point here?”

“I think Clint might be cheating on Nat with Phil.”

“I don’t know, Tony. Clint doesn’t seem like the type. And Phil…

“Oh, come on, Stevie! I know you have eyes, they’re crystal blue and sexy as fuck by the way, you could not have possibly missed the looks they shared right then.”

“Sorry, Tones.”

Tony stands up, “If I get proof, will you help me confront them?”

Steve hesitates, then nods, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Good,” Tony says, pushing back his chair and leaving his breakfast on the table, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some inappropriate snooping to attend to.”

“Fine,” Steve says, “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

When Tony disappears off to wherever Tony disappears, Steve blithely eats the rest of his omelet.

So for the following few weeks, Tony observes. He watches Clint and Nat and Phil, studies their foreign behavior. When Nat leaves for a night out with the girls, he kisses her on the cheek and tells her to get into some trouble for him. When Clint falls fifty feet from the rock wall in the training room, Nat runs to his aid and has him smiling before he’s even on his feet. Clint and Phil always have that look.

Tony gets it, really he does. They’re spies, and Tony knows better than anyone that spies don’t exactly follow the same moral code as the rest of the world. But the thing is, these people live with him, he might even deign to call them friends, and Tony doesn’t want anybody getting hurt- especially Nat who could kill a man with a centenarian thimble.

“Steve, I don’t have proof,” Tony says multiple weeks later, a foaming toothbrush stuck out of his mouth.

“Proof of what?”

“You know,” Tony makes dramatic hand gestures, “Clint- and Phil.”

Steve has to think for a moment. He’s sitting on the counter and talking to Tony while they get ready for bed. As realization dawns on him, his eyes grow in surprise, eyebrows finding their way farther up his forehead, and he pretends he isn’t hiding a grin, “You’re still on that?”

Tony spits out the toothpaste, “Yes,” He says, exasperated as ever, swishes and spits again, “I’m still on that. I think we should talk to Coulson.”

Unfortunately for Tony, Steve catches the operative word, “We?”

“You know Agents got a soft spot for you, Stevie.”

“He won’t after we respectfully ask him to stop looking at Clint, Tony!”

Tony pouts. He knows Steve can’t resist, “Please?”

Steve holds out for as long he can- meaning he lasts approximately ten seconds before he sighs, “Fine,” Steve agrees, “We can talk to Phil this weekend. He usually likes to work in his apartments around noon on saturdays, we can find him then.”

Tony grins, “I knew I could count on you, babe,” He presses a kiss to Steve’s lips, “You know how I feel about this. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grabs his hand, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

On Saturday, they set out. Steve’s all nervous, his hands twitchy and sweaty and weird when Tony tries to hold them. Tony is like steel.

“Phil?” Tony says at the door, Steve hovering at his side, “Can we talk?”

Phil looks up from his paperwork, takes off his glasses and nods, “This sounds serious,” He says, “Did you do something, Tony?”

“No!” Tony defends, “Why would you think-!”

“You’ve never called me by my first name and when have you ever asked to come into a room, huh? It’s serious.”

“Look, Phil,” Steve breaks in, “We wanted to talk to you about… you.”

“Me?”

Steve sighs. He hates this, “Tony’s noticed some, um, things-“

“Some looks.”

“And it’s come to our attention that Clint may be cheating on Nat with, um… you, sir.”

Phil’s eyes go big and surprised, and Tony rushes to add his two cents, “We just don’t want anybody to get hurt, Coulson. And when feelings are at play-“

“Oh my god,” Phil says and suddenly he’s laughing ridiculously. Tony’s never seen good old robotic Agent laugh ridiculously, it’s kind of eerie. Then Phil’s turning around and calling, “Clint, Clint, come in here! This is hilarious!”

Which what- these were Phil’s private apartments, and Clint was there? Wasn’t looking good for them.

Then Clint steps out barefoot, wearing pajamas pants, a flimsy undershirt, his hair a mess. He looks like he’s been in bed all day, “What’s up?”

“Clint,” Phil says, holding back another barking laugh, “Steve and Tony think that you’re cheating on Nat with me.”

While Phil had at least attempted to retain an ounce of decorum by stifling his laugh, Clint laughs so hard he has to lean against the wall so he doesn’t fall over.

Tony and Steve just stare.

“You think- me and Phil- and Nat- cheating, ha- the- wohoho- that’d be so stupid- I’m- and you think-“

The laughter goes on for minutes.

Tony doesn’t find it as amusing anymore, has his arms crossed across his chest defiantly. Steve’s got a hand on his bicep. Phil’s twirling a pen between his fingers as he watches with a small smile as Clint buckle over with laughter. When the hilarity finally subsides, Tony’s glaring.

“I don’t get what’s so funny. The evidence points against you.”

“Tony,” Phil says, face as serious as ever, “Clint can’t be cheating with me.”

“And why’s that? Some weird definition twisting or something?”

“No,” Phil asserts, “Because we’re already married.”

And that- just about short circuits Tony’s brain.

“Wait what?”

Clint nods, leans against the edge of Phil’s desk so their left hands are next to each other, “See?”

And sure enough, there’s a small tattoo on the underside of each of their left ring fingers, a heart with an arrow through it. It’s ridiculously cheesy and infinitely surprising, but undeniable.

Steve’s smiling, Tony’s gaping.

“But wait,” Tony interjects, “What about Nat?”

“Tony,” Clint says, eyebrows wonky as he glances pointedly at the billionaire, “You completely made that up.”

“No way!”

Even Phil butts in, “Yep.”

“I- no! No, but you’ve seen- Steve help me out.”

“Tones, I love you, but they’re right. You never had definitive proof.”

“No, I don’t believe that there’s nothing between you and Nat, Clint. I know how you guys act around each other.”

“Are you accusing me of cheating on Phil with Nat now?”

“…maybe.”

“Look,” Phil says, ever the reasonable one, “It’s improbable for Nat or Clint to be cheating on anybody because both of them are very happily married and that just isn’t the kind of people they are.”

That shuts them up, until- “Wait,” Tony butts in incredulously, “Both of them are happily married? Who the hell is Nat with?”

“Oh Tony,” Clint says, shaking his head, “You really aren’t good at this whole relationship-radar thing,” Clint so much as tsks sarcastically and Tony’s getting to end of his rope.

“Nat and Maria have been married longer than we have- going on nine years this winter,” Phil supplies.

Tony turns frantically to Steve, who has been largely quiet and allowed Tony’s mind to be blown all alone, “Did you know about any of this?”

“I had my suspicions. They’re private people, Tones.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve shrugs, “You insisted-“

Tony throws his arms in the air and storms out of Phil’s apartments, leaving Steve alone with the married couple.

“Wanna stay for breakfast, Steve?” Phil asks with an unoffended smile.

Steve knows that’d be real nice, but he shakes his head, “No, I should probably go check on Tony, make sure he’s doing okay. He doesn’t deal with being wrong all that well.”

When Steve’s at the door, Clint calls out to him, “If you really want to blow his mind, tell him the sex is fantastic, too!”

“Clint!” Phil scolds, And even without seeing him, Steve can all but hear that faint blush.

“What? I’m right. It’d blow Stark’s mind!”

“Oh, my God,” Phil groans, “Now he’s going to be all in our personal lives, isn’t he?”

Steve, who knows that is indeed incredibly true, tiptoes out of the apartments after that. Phil’s right, Tony’s never gonna leave them alone after this.

Ten minutes later, Steve finds Tony grilling Bruce on his knowledge of inter-spy, Avenger relationships. The man behind the Hulk is unsurprised by the marriages.

Steve tries not to laugh as Tony looks like he’s about to rip himself in half, “Come on, honey,” He says, pulling a despondent Tony out of Bruce’s lab, “Thinking about it will only make you wallow more.”

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Tony vs. Air duct climbing!Clint

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Tags: Fluff, Humors, 2012 Avengers, Team Bonding, Bets, Friendship Words: 4.102

Summary: Getting his eyebrows singed off once is not enough for Clint and he keeps trying to get into the workshop. Tony has fun thwarting his attempts. Naturally, they turn it into a war. 

---

Tony stumbles into the kitchen long after dinner is over, mind still mostly focused on the new repulsors but in dire need of new coffee. He is almost at the machine when he notices that he is not alone in the room. Sitting rather sullenly in his usual seat is Clint, arms crossed in front of him, glaring at Tony as if he has eaten the last piece of pizza out of the fridge.

A smile tugs on Tony’s lips. He fights against it for all of three seconds before he lets it spread, feels it turn into a smirk.

“What happened to your eyebrows, birdbrain?” he asks, decidedly nonchalant.

He knows. Of course, he does. As focused on his work as he usually is, JARVIS’ intruder alarm has ripped him out of his work easily. Finding the intruder had been just as simple. Taking just Clint’s eyebrows in revenge had at least been a fun challenge. No one wants the charred remains of a SHIELD archer in their vents, so precision was the key. It is a good thing he is practised at using his fine motor skills.

“Have you ever thought about not booby-trapping your vents like a paranoid misanthropist with more money than common sense?” Clint snaps. He raises a hand up to his face and it hovers over the place where his eyebrows used to be.

Tony would not have thought Clint to be vain. Maybe his forehead is still stinging.

“Wow, you just used much bigger words than I ever gave you credit for,” Tony replies and makes the last steps over to the coffee machine. He turns his back to Clint like there is nothing to worry about. “But have you ever thought about using the hallways instead of the vents like a complete maniac?”

For a moment, the gurgling of the coffee machine is the only sound in the room, and Tony watches it trickle into his mug with a hidden smile.

“It keeps me nimble,” Clint finally says. His tone is a mixture of a challenge and a sheepish admission.

“I’m not going to deign that with an answer,” Tony says, although he has a dozen ready on his tongue.

This whole vent-crawling thing has started as a joke about Clint going from the circus to being an assassin and combining the best of two worlds. Who would ever expect death to come from an air vent, after all. Clint naturally had to prove then that he could move exclusively through the vents if he wanted to. Since then, it has become a theme.

“What did you even want in the workshop?” Tony asks, picking up his filled mug.

Clint looks at him, unwilling to admit anything despite having been caught already. “I wanted to get a peek at the new bow.”

“What new bow?” Tony asks immediately, pretending not to know what Clint is talking about.

The problem with being the Avengers’ in-house mechanic is that they are constantly expecting new toys. Not always actively, but it is not a nice surprise anymore when Tony brings them new equipment. Tony was working on a new bow but moved on to at least seven other, more pressing projects since then.

“The one you’re building,” Clint answers slowly, rolling his eyes for good measure. “For me.”

Grumbling, Tony thinks he might have to pick that one up again. “And how would you know about that?”

“Natasha,” Clint answers promptly.

Of course. Even when there is nothing exciting to learn, Natasha still has to dig for secrets. It is as endearing as it is annoying.

“I should have known this would happen after inviting two spies to live with me,” Tony sighs, taking a sip of his coffee. “One can’t keep her nose out of my business, and the other crawls around in places not made for humans.”

Suddenly, a grin spreads on Clint’s face as he sits up straighter. “Then why are the vents so big?” he asks, a definite challenge in his voice. “It’s almost comfortable up there.”

Because, Tony thinks miserably, he is sometimes too dedicated to a joke, and since they need to make renovations more often than not, considering how happy the Avengers as a whole are to deal out property damage, it was not actually hard to modify the vent system enough to allow comfortable passage for nimble archers.

Tony would never admit that, though. He has a reputation to uphold, and it is already mostly in shambles.

“They’re only that big on your floor and in the common areas,” he replies, realizing too late this gives too much away. “Not anywhere else.” Definitely not over the workshop.

“That sounds deliberate.” Clint’s grin grows until it looks downright indecent, smug.

“Careful,” Tony cautions and keeps his face blank, “your brain has turned on. You should use your five minutes of near-intelligence and go bother someone else.”

That is probably unfair. None of the Avengers is stupid. That would defy the whole purpose of the team. They are not meant to follow orders but to create their own solutions.

“That’s –” Clint says, ready to fall into the bickering, but then he interrupts himself. “You do have a heart underneath all that armour.”

Tony blinks. He is not sure how Clint has deducted that from Tony’s offensive commentary. It is, in any case, a dangerous assumption. For all of them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony says dismissively and turns toward the door with his mug in hand.

He is almost out of the kitchen when Clint calls after him. “Game’s on, Stark. Throw your worst at me, but I’ll get to see that bow.”

That offers a whole trove of opportunities for petty revenge and chaos-causing pranks. Tony likes the idea – even if that means he will have to put Clint’s bow on top of his work list again. He believes in his and JARVIS’ ability to keep Clint out, even with non-lethal measures, but if Clint gets in, Tony should have something to show.

“If I actually threw my worst at you,” Tony drawls, looking at Clint with exaggerated boredom, “they wouldn’t even have to pick your pieces out of the vents because you’d be vaporized. Perhaps I’ll keep a little stain in loving memory.”

Clint, the maniac, laughs, despite knowing full well that Tony is telling the truth. “Then throw your non-lethal, non-maiming worst at me.”

Sighing, Tony nods. “You really take the fun out of this sport. But all right, you’re on.”

It begins simple enough.

Tony has bars appearing in random parts of the ventilation system, keeping Clint either locked out or in. Alarms blare when Clint makes even a single step towards the vents. Things go missing. All kinds of traps have to be disarmed before Clint can go on his merry way.

In return, Clint makes a game of leaving things in Tony’s rooms or the workshop. Food or broken arrowheads or Tony’s favourite blanket that went missing several weeks ago.

Tony tries to keep Clint out, while Clint tries to leave increasingly outrageous proof that he did, indeed, get in.

The only one who notices is Natasha, although both Tony and Clint make her swear not to intervene. Winning this is a matter of pride, and they have no doubt she would end this in five seconds flat – although they cannot seem to agree on in whose favour. Probably her own.

One night, Tony steps out of the workshop for five minutes for a bathroom break and a coffee refill. When he comes back, a still hot pizza is waiting on his workbench, sitting there as innocently as if Tony has brought it himself. None of the alarms has been triggered, no archer-shaped stains are left behind.

Tony sits down and, not even bothering with having JARVIS scan the pizza, eats a slice. It is good and hot and definitely not supposed to be here.

Once he is done, Tony carefully puts the workshop on complete lockdown, and goes to find Clint. He does not even have to look for long. Clint is sitting in the living room, draped over the couch as if he has not moved in hours. There is a bit of soot stuck to his temple, though, and his breathing is a little bit too even to be natural.

Building himself up in the door, Tony glares. “You did not get into the workshop,” he declares because he knows that as fact, at least.

This is still Tony’s sanctuary, still the place where he works on delicate and classified projects. No matter the game they are playing, Tony would not let Clint run rampage in the workshop, not even under JARVIS supervision. So, he knows Clint did not get in, which still leaves him without explanation for the pizza.

“I might have,” Clint counters with a grin, stretching further on the couch.

“You have not,” Tony argues with all the conviction he has. “Not a single particle of your skin.”

He just barely manages not to get closer to check Clint for burns or other signs that he has breached the invisible barrier between the vent and the workshop.

“My fingertip still hasn’t grown back from the last time I tried,” Clint mutters, staring down at his left hand with dismay.

He makes it sound more dramatic than it was. Tony has anti-thievery measures in place. It could have, potentially, taken Clint’s hand, but Clint had been very careful in sticking his fingers through the gaps of the vent, and Tony would not leave them with a one-armed archer. That would just be a waste.

“So how did you get a whole pizza on my workbench, and mostly intact at that?” Tony asks, fighting the urge to cross his arms in front of him. There is no need to feel defensive. Clint has not won yet since he has neither gotten into the workshop nor can he have glimpsed at the specs for his new bow, which Tony is keeping in an even more secure location, just in case.

“Trader’s secret.” Clint’s grin grows ever more smug, at least right until it freezes, pushed off his face by a frown. “What do you mean with mostly intact?

Tony opens his mouth, ready to spin a tale so he will not lose any more points to Clint. Then he shrugs. “The pepperonis were missing on one half.”

It looked deliberate enough, that it cannot be mistaken for coincidence or a mistake.

Mirth is playing in Clint’s eyes as he fights to keep his laughter in. “I got hungry.”

That implies he has been lying in wait for Tony to leave the workshop. He cannot have been there for long, though, since the pizza was still hot. None of this makes sense, but it only pushes Tony to step up his game.

“That’s –” Tony trails off, then shrugs, “not surprising.”

They share a look, full of challenge and the sweet joy of victory.

“Anyway, that’s a point for me,” Clint brags, showing too many teeth. “Perhaps you should just give up now.”

If Tony would have needed an encouragement to keep going, this would have been it. “Never,” he smiles and gets back to work.

 ---

That night, Clint’s screams echo through the tower. Bruce, who is in the workshop with Tony, freezes immediately, always expecting the worst. He does not look reassured in the least when Tony only smiles at the sound.

“What happened?” Bruce asks, already suspicious. “Why are you laughing?”

The simple answer would be that Tony has set a new trap and Clint fell into it without any delay at all. Justice served truly is the sweetest thing in the world.

“Don’t worry,” Tony says, probably causing the exact opposite, “Clint’s fine, if probably a bit cold right now.”

Before Bruce can ask any more questions, JARVIS speaks up. “Agent Barton wants to talk to you,” he announces, sounding just as smug as his creator feels.

Clapping his hands, Tony abandons their work without a second thought. “Put him through,” he orders excitedly. “Better yet, turn on the camera. I need to see this.”

Seconds later, Clint appears on the screen in front of them, big enough to show his dripping misery in all its glory. He looks like a drowned dog, hair plastered to his forehead, clothes clinging to his back. He is standing in a rapidly growing puddle, body tense to keep from shivering. The intensity of his glare in almost enough to burn Tony through the camera.

This scene, he decides, is beautiful.

“How?” Clint presses out between clenched teeth.

“How what?” Tony counters immediately, barely keeping himself from laughing out loud. He is so going to save a picture of this for later. “My, you seem a little wet,” he adds as if he has only just noticed. “I didn’t think it was raining outside – or that you ever go outside like a normal human being.”

Tony has a hundred more quips ready but bites his tongue to keep himself from using them. There will be time for them later. He plans on besting Clint far more often, and while he does not think he will ever run out of witty one-liners, it does not hurt to be prepared.

“How did you manage to build in a secret door in the vents right over the exit to my room?” Clint specifies, actually trembling now, although Tony is hard-pressed to say whether it is from cold or fury. “In the two hours since I last used it?”

It definitely has not been easy, but he is a Stark. Making the impossible possible is basically his day job.

Next to him, Bruce eyes them, wide-eyed and incredulous, but with tell-tale signs of exhaustion creeping onto this face. He is definitely tired of dealing will all of their shenanigans.

“Trader’s secret,” Tony answers, tasting the perfect sweetness of this comeback. “Also, how did you know it hasn’t always been there?”

From a strategical point of view, it makes sense to have countermeasures in place against all of his fellow Avengers. Tony does not think they are going to turn against him any time soon, not without being pushed into it, but it does not make sense to give Clint nearly free roam of the tower without being able to stop him easily.

Clint’s glare grows condescending. “I heard the mechanism when I opened the door,” he explains unwillingly. “That hasn’t been there before.”

That is a flaw, Tony realizes. If the guy with hearing aids can hear his trap mechanism, Tony has not done a good enough job of it, no matter how limited his time has been and that the trap worked beautifully nonetheless.

“Aren’t you attentive,” Tony drawls, mentally redesigning the whole thing. If he does not, chances are Clint will not fall for it again if it is needed at a later time.

Taking a step forward, Clint’s image grows on the screen. Tony can see goosebumps on the archer’s arms.

“There were ice cubes in there,” Clint says, voice full of accusation.

Tony hums and bites his cheek to not lose it right here. “Well, you’ve been so excited earlier, that I thought you might need to cool down a bit.”

It is Clint’s own fault, really. He challenged Tony to do better. He should know better than to bait Tony Stark.

“My whole bed is wet,” Clint continues, looking down at himself as if he still cannot believe what has happened.

Tony clicks his tongue. “You usually sleep in your nest in the cupboard anyway.”

Just as he thought, Clint’s head whips up, looking first at him then at the cupboard with instant suspicion. Tony has not hidden another trap in Clint’s room, but it is entirely all right with him if Clint thinks he has.

“Did you do something to that too?”

Now, Tony does laugh. “Do I need to?”

Eyes narrowed, Clint shakes his head, making drops fly from his hair. “Just you wait, Stark.”

Tony has no doubt that Clint is already plotting his revenge and he should tread carefully. That is part of the fun, though.

“Perhaps you should change your clothes first,” Tony taunts, unable to help himself, “or you’ll drip all over the floor. The cleaning bots don’t like that. And you don’t want to get on their naughty list.”

Clint growls something inaudible but stalks off towards his bathroom without further threats. They have run out of those fairly quickly, preferring to rely on actions to prove their seriousness.

Satisfied, Tony turns around ready to keep working, when he is reminded that Bruce is present and has witnessed the whole thing.

“What is going on?” Bruce asks, looking at Tony with disapproval. Behind that, though, Tony thinks he can see definite signs of amusement.

“Nothing serious,” he promises. “Clint and I have a bet going, but we have mutually decided to not use lethal methods”

For a moment, it looks like Bruce is going to ask more, and Tony would love nothing more than to rope him in. Alone, he is already near-unbeatable. With Bruce, he would turn this into a spectacle the entirety of New York would never forget.

Sadly, though, Bruce usually follows his common sense. “Just don’t kill each other.”

“That’s what non-lethal means, genius.” Tony grins but does not push. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

 ---

A week later, an explosion has the floor trembling and shortly after that, alarms are shaking the walls. They are different from the Avengers alarm, and yet everybody in the living room sits perfectly straight immediately, ready to throw themselves into the action.

Tony looks up lazily from the tablet he has been working on, registering the faces around him and, more so, that Clint is missing from the group. A smile tugs on his lips.

“No worries,” he says, getting slowly to his feet. “That’s the workshop alarm. I guess one of my experiments went wrong.”

It probably says a lot that the Avengers actually relax at that. Steve looks at him with vague worry, but no one looks eager for a fight anymore. Explosions have become too common an occurrence for them to still be unsettled by it. That gives Tony, who knows exactly that he has not left anything prone to blow up unattended when he left for dinner, to deal with what he guesses is another intrusion attempt from Clint.

As soon as he is in the elevator, he asks for a status update from JARVIS.

“Agent Barton has just attempted to blow his way into the workshop.”

That is surprisingly unsubtle. After weeks of sneaking and little bits of progress here and there, it seems wrong for Clint to attempt something as pedestrian as bombs. Especially since that is one of the first things Tony guarded his workshop against, considering the kind of work he gets up to in there.

“From the vents?” Tony asks for clarification.

“Yes,” JARVIS answers promptly, echoing Tony’s incredulity. Attempting to blow himself a way in from such a limited space as the vents is – such a Clint thing to do, really. “He did not get in.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Tony snorts, never having doubted his security measures. “Is he all right?”

If Clint were seriously harmed, JARVIS would have led with that. Still, they are friends now, and Tony cares for them, although he does not often admit that openly.

“I shielded him from the worst of it,” JARVIS reports. “His newly regrown eyebrows have been singed off again, however.”

“Pity,” Tony comments immediately, openly showing his grin. In the privacy of the elevator, nobody can scold him for that. “This is excellent news nonetheless. Close the cage.”

“Cage is closed.” If JARVIS had eyes, he surely would have rolled them at Tony now. He does not need to be reminded of such clear tasks. “I will monitor Agent Barton’s progress.”

Instead of going to the workshop, Tony directs the elevator to Clint’s floor and makes his way to the bedroom. There, he gets comfortable on the bed and waits.

The cage means that all entrances to the ventilation system are closed off, SHIELD agent and circus brat proof. If Clint thinks he can escape that without Tony’s approval, he will have a rude awakening.

Tony waits for the better part of an hour. If he were not eager to see Clint’s face when he arrives here, he probably would have lost patience long ago. For that exact reason, he does not ask JARVIS where Clint is or when he is expected to arrive. Not knowing when it will happen makes it easier to wait. Also, Tony wants to see whether he can notice Clint coming.

It turns out that he cannot. There is no sound and no other sign that heralds Clint’s arrival. From one moment to the next, the flap gets torn open and Clint glares down at Tony through the bars making his escape impossible.

Before Tony can say anything, any of the gloating greetings he has prepared, Clint calls, “I give up.”

It comes so unexpected that the words do not register with Tony for a full minute. Then he blinks, full of disbelief. “You don’t.”

Clint’s face is grim. The usual mischief and cunning are absent. He does not look angry either, but that is perhaps still coming.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Clint warns but then does it anyway. “You’ve won, Stark. Do you know how loud an explosion is in a place like air vents?”

If Clint has any brain cells left, he will have at least turned off his hearing aids beforehand and covered his ears.

“The thought might have crossed my mind,” Tony says slowly, desperately trying to gauge what is happening.

Clint does not give up. Ever. Not even when there are worse possible repercussion than simply losing a bet against Tony.

“So, yes, I’m done,” Clint says nonetheless, holding onto his nonsense. “One day, you might forget that I’m not a supersoldier or a god.”

Snorting, Tony shakes his head but keeps a close eye on Clint. Perhaps the explosion has done more damage than he thought, despite JARVIS’ scan. “I’m not in the habit of forgetting things.”

Clint bares his teeth at him – the effect of which is made worse by the bars separating them. “Apart from basic human needs like eating or sleeping or letting someone check your wounds after a battle,” he says, full of sarcasm.

“That’s not –” Tony argues but cuts himself off with a shrug. “Well, it’s not completely true.”

“Right, you only forget that when it’s about you.” Clint rolls his eyes. His missing eyebrows make that look comical, but Tony is not in the mood for laughing. “Anyway, it was fun while it lasted.”

“It – was,” Tony says slowly, wondering what he is missing.

“Right,” Clint announces and vanishes back into the ventilation system. A second later, his echoing voice adds, “See ya later, Stark.”

Confused, Tony walks back to his workshop. Clint is not one to give up, not even under threat of bodily harm. Something is up, he knows it. The victory, if there ever was one, tastes bitter on his tongue.

“Lockdown, J,” Tony says, relishing the safety of the workshop turning into his personal panic room with just one word from him.

Something is different, though. He cannot pinpoint what, but something is not right. Walking over to his desk, he looks at the mess of sketches and papers, seemingly unchanged from how he left them.

Following his instincts, he looks through the stacks, looking for clues since he is lacking any specific evidence. There. A small piece of paper falls into his hand. On it is a sketch of a bow and several arrow designs in addition to several notes and descriptions that are definitely not made in Tony’s handwriting.

Underneath all of that is written,

Since you’re successfully keeping my bow hidden, here’s what I’d like. Thanks.

P.S. I count this as a victory.

Unable to help himself, Tony laughs. So much for Clint not having come into the workshop. If anything, the explosion must have been a distraction after the fact. Clint’s endurance has to be admired.

Staring at the piece of paper, Tony sees the crude sketch coming to life inside his mind.

“JARVIS,” he says, turning towards the screen, “I’d say the war is not over, but I think Legolas deserves a little present to keep his motivation up. Let’s get to work.”