#quentin beck one-shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

backtothefanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam

Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!

SIX

Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.

And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.

They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.

Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.

“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.

“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s complicated.” Angel briefly responded. “How’s Matt?”

“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”

“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.

“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.

“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.

“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.

She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls.

Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi.” she’d say back.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.

They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist.

“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”

Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.

“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.

“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”

“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.

“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.

“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.

“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.

“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”

They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.

They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.

“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.

His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.

“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”

“No.” she smiled fondly.

The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.

“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.

“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”

They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,

“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.

She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.

“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”

“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”

“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.

Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.

When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her.

“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.

“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.

He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.

“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.

“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.

*****

They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.

“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.

“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.

The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.

He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.

“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.

When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.

“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.

“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.

Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany.

“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.

“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine.

“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.

“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.�� he continued, trying to brush it off.

“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.

“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.

“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.

“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”

“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.

It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.

“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.

“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.

He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.

A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.

“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table.

Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.

“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.

“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.

“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.

“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.

There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about.

“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.

“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.

“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.

“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”

Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.

He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”

“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.

Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.

He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.

“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.

“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”

Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.

“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.

“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.

“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”

She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.

“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”

“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.

“Fine then, you call Miguel.”

“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.

“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.

“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.

“Sell it.”

“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.

“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.

“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”

“No.” she adamantly shook her head.

“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.

She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”

“What do you-”

“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”

“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”

“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.

“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”

There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.

The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.

When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.

They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.

“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.

The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.

“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

27 notes · View notes

themculibrary · 2 months ago

Text

Bittersweet Endings Masterlist

Be Still for a Second (ao3) - ebeatrice loki/mobius G, 4k

Summary: It’s an odd thought to have about a man you can’t remember.

Or - Mobius offers Loki shelter at the TVA, even though he has no memories of him.

Changing of the Seasons (ao3) - EiraLloyd steve/bucky T, 43k

Summary: On the run from the world, Hydra, and his former best friend, Bucky Barnes finds an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. People will always look for him, but no one will find him here, he thinks, so after months of moving from one place to another, he finally stops running.

Fixing up the cabin is easy. The isolation that comes with it is not. Bucky doesn’t notice it until it’s far too late. Winter comes and brings his long-forgotten memories to life.

colder and colder (when the sun goes down) (ao3) - howlingbuchanan (penmarks) bucky/sam, loki/mobiues G, 12k

Summary: “How long will this take?”

“For us, just a few seconds,” Bruce said. He didn’t take his eyes off the screens in front of him. “For him, as long as he wants.”

A man out of time, a briefcase of Infinity Stones, and a TVA Analyst with a penchant for pesky Variants.

Fathoms Below (ao3) - msmaxximoff wanda/vision M, 3k

Summary: Vision rescues a mermaid from the clutches of a group of trophy hunters. Naturally, he falls hopelessly in love with her.

Golden Hour (ao3) - antiadvil steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: golden hour (medical): the first hour after the occurrence of a traumatic injury, considered the most critical for successful emergency treatment.

The Winter Soldier is sent to kill Captain America. He almost succeeds.

half a heart without you (ao3) - graveltoyou tony/stephen N/R, 7k

Summary: When America and Stephen land on Earth-838, Karl Mordo is the Master of the New York Sanctum.

The Sorcerer Supreme, however, is someone else.

If Only (ao3) - hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) steve/tony, background pepper/tony T, 2k

Summary: At Clint’s home, they offer to clean up after dinner. In the quiet kitchen, just the two of them, they share lingering looks in the gentle yellow light and think of another life: a quieter one, where they have the luxury to fall in love and be soft for one another.

Just A Little Longer (ao3) - sunattemptstowrite loki/mobius G, 1k

Summary: He really should go. He needs to save this, all of this, them, but.... he has all of time at his fingertips, so what does it matter if he goes back just one more time? One more time. Too see him. To sit with him one last time. With His Mobius.

Left for Yesterday (ao3) - ironxprince G, 4k

Summary: After the Rogues escape and Tony tries to amend the Accords, he and Steve communicate the way they should've in the beginning.

Need Not be a Chamber (ao3) - SucculentHyena steve/bucky M, 20k

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple scan. It was only supposed to take a few seconds.

But when Bucky wakes in an unfamiliar base filled with defunct robots and an AI he can’t trust, he’s forced to survive through conditions no human was ever meant to.

no strings attached (ao3) - meidui steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: Tony is good at no strings attached.

older every second, every minute, every day (ao3) - cloudlimon mj/peter T, 1k

Summary: moving on is hard. starting over is worse.

Operation Hindsight (ao3) - DCAngst T, 111k

Summary: When Steve chases the assassin who shot Fury, he realizes the sniper is strong, fast, and has a metal arm...but he's not the only player in the game. Who is the other guy on the roof—the one who may have just saved Steve's life?

Synopsis: Bucky and Sam travel from 2024 to 2014 to thwart Hydra agents armed with knowledge of the future from changing the timeline. To do that, Bucky has to stop the Winter Soldier from assassinating Captain America.

One More Time (ao3) - DoctorMerlinReid G, 6k

Summary: When Fury told him where Mysterio (never Quentin Beck, not anymore) was being held, Peter had a single, momentary urge to go see him.

How crazy was that? There was no way he would go see Mysterio. The man deserved to never see anyone ever again. He was an awful person. Peter wasn’t going to give him the chance to manipulate him again. Peter was better than that now, less gullible, less trusting. He would never ever give Mysterio the chance to hurt him or the people he loved. Never.

By the end of the month, Peter had set up weekly meetings with the man.

Far From Home AU where Quentin Beck survives.

shattered shards of my broken heart (ao3) - etherfalling tony/rhodey T, 1k

Summary: In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love.

An everlasting exchange.

A soul for a soul.

Rhodey and Tony go to Vormir. But only one of them return.

something something something, we win (ao3) - oriocookie T, 16k

Summary: Framed for a tragic crime, Tony teams up with a scrappy shapeshifter to solve the mystery and prove his innocence.

The Day After Tomorrow (ao3) - SereinReality sam/bucky G, 40k

Summary: Both men scrambled to the door, tugging and pushing at the handle, the knob refusing to turn.

“I’ll kick it down.” The soldier huffed, backing up slightly.

The angel shoved his arm against him in annoyance. “Then what happens when we get in? It’ll just be colder.”

or two tired soldiers try to find themselves while learning to love the other.

The Difference Love Makes (ao3) - blackbirdofasgard loki/mobius G, 2k

Summary: When Loki gets the idea to introduce Mobius to his mother, he finds a way to make it happen. Even if it means he has to say goodbye to her again.

to risk another goodbye (ao3) - olivaeons bruce/tony G, 1k

Summary: Loss is something that the entire world is familiar with. There is not a person in the world who has escaped the painful ordeal of losing something important to them, and there will be no one who ever will.

Everyone deals with it differently— some fill the hole with something else, while others rip the wound wide open, allowing themselves to bleed.

Bruce Banner, on the other hand, has other ideas.

Or, a scientist misses his old friend. Experiments, failure, and success follow. Reality chases him, not too far behind.

Two Slow Dancers (ao3) - SpaceCowboysFromMars howard/maria T, 5k

Summary: In 1970, Howard Stark has discovered that he doesn't have much interest in fatherhood, or his nagging wife, or the idea of raising a less-than-perfect child for the next eighteen years.

In 2002, Tony Stark's idea of fatherhood is very different.

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #bittersweet #bittersweet endings #bittersweet endings masterlist

3 notes · View notes

jinxquickfoot · 1 year ago

Text

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Trying Not to Cry

Find the fic on Ao3

“Morning, Boss.”

Kate’s tone is chipper. Upbeat, happy, top-o-the-morning chipper. Clint definitely isn’t going to suspect that a single thing is wrong.

Clint squints up at her over the coffee he’s just poured. “What’s wrong?"

“Literally all I said was good morning.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint’s eyes travel down to the Daily Bugle clutched in Kate’s hand. “Good read?”

“No, actually.” Kate hastily balls up the paper, lobbing it towards the trash. It bounces off the rim. “It was so boring that I’ve forgotten what I read.”

“Kate, you just missed a shot from three feet away.” Clint moves to pick the paper up.

“No, don’t! You don’t want to read that.”

Clint takes her in again, then relaxes. “What is this time? That archery is a ridiculous superpower? That I’m the most useless Avenger? That no one knows why I was even on the team to begin with?”

Kate tries to distract him as Clint starts to uncrumple the paper. “All of which would be cleared up if you agreed to do just one interview.”

“I don’t waste time on reporters. Never have, never will.” He succeeds in unfurling the pages. “Kate, I've been hearing that kind of stuff for years. Jesus, I agree with half of it—although not with the Bugle, everything that comes out of Jamison’s mouth is garbage. So don’t bother trying to spare my feelings, at this point I just ignore…” He trails off, finally finding the page that had slapped Kate in the face that morning.

“It’s fine,” Kate says, too quickly. “Like you said, garbage.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and Kate has never been more embarrassed in her life.

Clint slowly lifts his head from the article to her face.

“Just forget it.” She’s not going to cry about this. She’s not. “I have.”

She hasn’t. The words are seared into her.

The world is approaching a new generation of superheroes. From arugula green lawyers in California, to a rather womanly Thor sighting in Norway, to what some are calling a controversial and nepotistic choice of Captain America’s successor, to a brand new Iron Man struck down too soon in the form of Quentin Beck, it seems we do not need to fear a lack of superheroes in our future—whatever their quality may be.

The world has come a long way from the first battle for the planet in 2012, when six unlikely heroes gathered to rid New York of aliens. While it may be a relief to some that their titles are passed on, others—this newspaper included—argue that it is time for some mantles to be retired, if they ever should have been held to such high esteem in the first place.

Residents of New York would have spotted a purple-clad archer in their midsts over the Christmas period. The vigilante responsible for destroying the beloved Rockefeller Christmas tree has been identified as Kate Bishop, nepo-baby of Bishop Security, whose stocks have plummeted after the arrest of its CEO, Eleanor Bishop, in December.

While it may be comforting to hear that the younger Bishop is not planning to follow in the footsteps of her criminal mother, her other choice of career must be called into question. We are in the heyday of superheroes, from Captain Marvel to Doctor Strange, with powers beyond reckoning. Is this really an appropriate environment to be resurrecting the Hawkeye name? A bow and arrow versus the cosmic forces of time and space?

‘Superhero’ is now the number one job aspiration of anyone under eight years old, and it is tempting to believe that we could all put on a silly costume and run around saving the day from otherworldly monsters. And with a lack of scientific genius or enhanced abilities, it seems Bishop has reached for the easiest to imitate Avenger and given it her best shot. However, unlike her namesake, she is not hitting the bullseye.

With multiple counts of destruction of public property, the daughter of a known associate of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, and an extremely superfluous choice of mentor to boot (really, what does Hawkeye even do when he runs out of arrows? Stand around and wait for the rest of the heroes to do the actual work?), perhaps it is time for Bishop to leave the play-pretend game to the children, and allow herself to grow up.

Clint is still watching her. Kate turns beet red as she feels him take in the tiny quiver of her lip, the way she knows her eyes are overbright and shiny.

Then he’s moving. “Stay here. I’m going out.”

“Where?” Kate demands.

Clint downs the rest of his coffee, then scoops up the entire pot for good measure. “Out.”

“You’re not going to the Bugle,” Kate protests. “You just said you don’t talk to reporters!”

“I’m going to talk to one today.”

“No, you’re not, don’t even worry about— Clint. Clint!”

But Clint and the coffee pot are already gone.

It’s hours before he comes back.

Kate’s curled up on the couch with Lucky, watching some rerun of a show she doesn’t particularly care about. She’d expected to finally cry the second Clint had left her apartment, but the tears hadn’t come. It’s as though they’re sitting in a block in her chest, weighing her down, refusing to shift.

The front door finally clicks open, Clint shucking off his rain-soaked jacket as he carefully places a now empty coffee pot by the shoe rack.

“So,” Kate calls from the couch. “How was your first time talking to the press?”

Clint’s answer is to lob a sheaf of paper across the room, where it lands perfectly on the coffee table next to her. “A copy of the article they’re running tomorrow. Page seven.”

Kate picks up the newspaper, scanning the first few opening lines before she tosses it away. “So you went down to the Bugle, pulled out your I used to be a very scary assassin act, and forced Jameson to write something nice about me.”

“I thought about it,” Clint admits. He makes his way over to the armchair opposite her, sinking into it with a relieved sigh. “But as tempting as it was, no.”

Kate frowns over the new article. “Then how—”

“Well, I started by pulling up the footage of you rescuing that cat from the burning building last week. And then I gave him the number of that couple whose bakery you stopped from being robbed on Tuesday. And then I called in a favour with a certain superhero in Hell’s Kitchen to remind Jameson just what a big deal it is that you took on Kingpin, alone, and won. Among other things. Why do you think I was gone all day?”

That block in Kate’s chest finally feels like it’s thawing. “So much for the press not mattering.”

Clint shrugs. “It doesn’t. And I can’t promise that you won’t have to get used to the constant jabs about why a non-powered human with a paleolithic weapon is running around with Avengers. And maybe those quips about being superfluous or whatever were true for me, but they are never going to be true for you.”

Kate’s lips twitch. “Well, you’re biased.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Kate fiddles with one of Lucky’s ears. “You’re not superfluous, Clint. If you hadn’t been at the Battle of New York, my mom and I would have died. A lot more people would have died.”

He offers her a smile “Well, lucky I was there then. No one else could possibly annoy me into wearing a costume.”

“If your branding was on point, maybe they wouldn’t be throwing around words like superfluous in the first place.”

“No, they still would.” Clint seems entirely unbothered by the idea. “That’s not what I care about. What I do care about is when they make my partner cry.”

Kate ducks her head. “I didn’t cry.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“It wasn’t just…” Kate pauses, clearing her throat. “All that stuff they said about me, that wasn’t fun. But I was actually more upset about what they said about my mom. Because maybe what they said about me is just opinion, or whatever, but what they said about her. It’s real.”

“I know,” Clint says softly. “But it’s not the whole truth. Like how she did it all to protect you.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Clint clasps his hands together. “I know I’m meant to be flying back to the farm tonight, but I can stay.”

“I’m fine,” Kate says quickly. “Go back to your family. I pull you away from them enough.”

Clint considers her for a few more moments. “Or,” he offers. “You could come with me. The kids would love to see you.”

Kate pictures a weekend at the Barton farm, cooking with Laura, shooting a bow with Lila and Cooper, reading books to Nate. A little break to be around family for a while. “Do you get the Bugle delivered out there?”

“I can promise that we absolutely don’t.”

Kate sits up straight, making Lucky wag his tail at the potential for a walk or a snack. “Then a weekend at the farm sounds perfect.”

#bad things happen bingo #bthb card #trying not to cry #hawkeye tv #kate bishop #clint barton #drabble

12 notes · View notes

myarmsaretoolong · 7 months ago

Text

20 questions (for fanfic writers)

cheers for the tag @sarah-sandwich <3

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

57.

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

412,260

3. what fandoms do you write for?

mcu but mostly just irondad, though i stopped writing that for a bit when a small (large) marauders obsession hit so now i write both depending on the fic im working on. also taken a side step into parkner recently

4. top five fics by kudos:

A Different Future - peter snaps one-shot

Futures are Made to be Broken - more in depth follow up to peter snaps one shot

The Best Day of Harley's Life (and the worst of Peter's) - classic field trip fic only harley is like the tourguide and makes it his mission to ruin peter's day. not actually parkner but for sure the beginning of my growing love for harley

Not my First Time - part of webpril challenge one-shot, tony and peter are stuck under a building, conversation ensue

Where Do You Think You're Going - urrrmmmm good question. its a whumptober one-shot so peter must get beat up. pretty sure its by quentin beck and his drones, lets assume tony finds him and saves the day (its less than 2000 words i could read it and find out but im lazy)

5. do you respond to comments?

i do my best!

6. what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending?

ermmm *checks notes* Is This It? springs to mind first. you know the deleted scene of tony snapping and seeing morgan? well in this one he sees peter, only peter is a good few years older and has sorted his life out a bit. its sad obvi, but also kind of happy? the end lines are sad sad though :( so either that or 01/11/81 (if you're a marauders fan you already know that date) which basically very closely follows remus throughout the entire day after james and lily are killed etc. its very angsty all the way through, mary is a sweetheart, and at the end he's left all alone...

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most tbh. im going to say Past, Present, Yet to Come because that's my baby. (peter is the ghost of christmas present, tony is scrooge, only its like the ryan reynolds film spirited, very good)

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope! (and please dont :) )

9. do you write smut?

nah

10. craziest crossover:

well ive only ever written one and it was mcu/glee and there's a reason i never finished it (nor am linking it [insert skull emoji])

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that ive noticed

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! im a solitary kinda guy

14. all time favourite ship?

what a question... wolfstar is a classic, ineffable husbands are precious to me, doctor/rose is nostalgic... i can't pick favourites

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

besides all of them? all of them.

no but really there are so many and i have this problem of thinking of idea -> getting excited -> writing beginning -> not knowing where to take it -> get excited by new idea -> repeat. im working on it though and do genuinely plan to finish them all

16. what are your writing strengths?

yknow i honestly think my general writing is at a pretty good level. defo room for improvement but there always it, int there? id say that's a general strength, but specifically i think im goooood at making things angsty. and i love doing it so win win

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

well... finishing anything. plotting out full stories is a big problem. (though ive recently started a notebook for random ideas for fics and its helping) um... tbh i can struggle with everything from time to time. i think getting characters voices right can be hard cos i often find people saying things they would never say and having to go back and and put them straight. er,,, action can be next to impossible if The Vision isn't there.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i dont have many. if its a language i cant read i just skim past and sometimes read an end note translation but if there's too much im just going to go with the flow

19. first fandom you wrote in?

mcu

20. favourite fic you've written?

again, Past, Present, Yet to Come is my babygirl. love him to pieces. can i say fics ive not finished yet? because parkner hunger games au and marauders doccy who are fire and one day will see the light of day (and get names)

tagging @winter-turtle @helloliriels erm ive forgotten everyone who has ever existed... @ anyone who i followed in the boopening who writes and @ anyone who just wants to (no pressure at all obvi)

#tag game #irondad #marauders

2 notes · View notes

hermesserpent-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

i wrote a one shot for the mysterio's apprentice au

might cross post onto ao3 laters

also got a lot more ideas for this in my brains now!!

Peter rubs his glasses on his shirt, trying to get the rainwater off. He huffs as he puts his glasses back on and tugs his rain jacket back down over his shirt. He looks up at the roof of the bus shelter. Rain pings off of it in a steady rhythm, accompanied by the swooshing of cars through puddles. He supposes it is not too terrible that his headphones were broken today. Stupid Flash. He huffs again, rubbing at a bruising arm before pulling out a notebook.

In better news, he had found a smashed game console in the trash. Most of the internal hardware is still usable. So that is nice! He doodles a few ideas of what to do with these components. He tilts his head as he doodles and writes, losing himself a little. He hears someone else enter the bus shelter but keeps to himself. He only looks up when he notices that the other person has gotten closer. He looks up.

It is an adult, well-dressed, with eyes firmly on Peter’s sketches. Peter grips the notebook, nervous. The man blinks and flushes.

“Oh! Sorry. Terribly rude to me. But I find your design fascinating.”

“Really?”

Peter finds so few people that are interested in his technical work. His aunt and uncle try, but they do not understand.

“Yeah, I think that you are definitely going to have a really interesting way to open a drawer. But have you considered making it remote-controlled, just for the heck of it, using these sensor bits?”

“How… How would you do that?”

The man plops down on the bench beside him with a dramatic hair swish. Peter hesitantly hands over his notebook and pencil and the man carefully writes a few things down as Peter leans in to watch.

“Oh! But what about?”

They fall into deep conversation and Peter eventually flips to the other designs that he has drawn over the past few weeks. It feels really nice to have someone ooh and ahh over his designs. Neither notice that time is passing them by, enraptured by the discussion and trading of ideas. Both realize that they have missed their buses as the man checks his watch. Peter feels a bit bad.

“I'm sorry sir.”

“It's fine, kid. I made you miss your bus too!” The man says with a smile and a cheery laugh.

“Im Quentin Beck, at your service.”

The man offers his hand. Peter snorts a little at the dramatics and takes the offered hand, getting a firm shake.

“Peter Parker.”

“Oh what an alliterative name!”

Peter tilts his head and adjusts his glasses. Beck lights up.

“Meaning that the first and last name starts with the same letter.”

“There's a word for that? Why?”

“Because we have to have words to specifically describe things for ease of communication.”

“But you just had to explain the word.”

“But I won't need to again!”

“... That's a good point.”

They chat a little more and discover that they are taking the same bus. This time they both keep an eye out for it and hop on when it comes. It starts raining more harshly as they ride the bus and Peter scrunches his nose at the thought of taking the miserable walk home. A umbrella and card are pressed into his hands.

“Valete Alliterative Peter Parker. May we cross paths again.”

Beck says with a bright smile, before slipping off the bus. Peter does not even have the chance to try and return the umbrella, much less thank the man for it. He looks at the business card. A flourishing name and series of numbers adorn it, giving no hint as to the man’s job. But Peter finds himself plugging it in, somewhat enamored with the idea of being able to talk to the tech genius again. Plus, he had to return the man’s umbrella at some point.

#hermes speaks #mysterios apprentice au #tssm #tssm peter parker #tssm mysterio #tssm quentin beck #fanfiction writing

13 notes · View notes

ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 1 year ago

Text

Just the Best Bits (BTHB Edition)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49427395 by JinxQuickfoot A collection of one-shots where I make bad things happen to our favourite Avengers. Words: 2447, Chapters: 1/24, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Just the Best Bits, Part 1 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Hawkeye (TV 2021), Hawkeye (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Nebula (Marvel), Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Vision (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner, Kate Bishop, Thor (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Nick Fury, Madame Masque, Tiberius Stone, Norman Osborn, Selby (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier), Barney Barton, Bobbi Morse, Quentin Beck, Loki (Marvel) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Nebula & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark & Vision, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop, Tony Stark & Thor, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Torture, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Rescue, Grief/Mourning, Trauma, Memory Loss, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Break Up, Crying, Abuse, Restraints, Fix-It for Movie: Captain America: Civil War (2016), Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Kate Bishop, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Irondad, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Kidnapped Peter Parker, One Shot Collection, Additional Warnings In Author's Note read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49427395

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

5 notes · View notes

episodicnostalgia · 1 year ago

Text

Spider-man: The Animated Series, 105 (Feb. 25, 1995) - “The Menace of Mysterio”

Written by: John Semper Jr, Marv Wolfman, & Stan Berkowitz Directed by: Bob Richardson

The Breakdown

Spider-man has taken to a life of crime, and no one is more surprised that Peter Parker! When news footage airs of Spider-man robbing a museum, Pete heads over to the scene of the crime (where Jonah is holding an anti-spidey press conference) in search of clues to clear his name. Pete’s snooping gets him caught by Detective Terri Lee, but she opts to let it go (for the time being) when some weirdo in a fishbowl and purple cape interrupts the press conference. This particular nutcase calls himself Mysterio, and assures everyone that he is the hero who will finally bring Spider-man to justice. He then disappears in a theatrical puff of smoke, before Jonah has an opportunity ask any follow up questions, but NOT before terrorizing the crowd with some frighteningly realistic illusions; finally a hero that New York can feel safe around

Spidey’s initial encounters with Mysterio do not go especially well, and he finds himself both defeated and publicly humiliated in the process; worse yet, it also results in Peter missing a date with Mary Jane. After licking his wounds, Pete visits Detective Lee as Spider-man, where she helps him uncover Mysterio’s identity by pulling up an old police file. It turns out Mysterio was once a Hollywood Special Effects technician, Named Quentin Beck, who was the best-of-the-best until he went too far and almost blew up a helicopter for some action movie. Thankfully Spider-man was on hand to save the day and expose Beck’s criminal negligence, bringing him to justice… for a little bit. Since getting out of prison, Beck has used his expertise (and apparently limitless resources) to exact his revenge by masquerade as a superhero, frame Spider-man, and then defeat him publicly.

Of course, Spider-man ultimately foils Mysterio in their obligatory climactic showdown, using his Spidey-sense to determine which of his adversary’s traps are lethal, or merely illusions. As a nice bonus to Mysterio’s defeat, Terri Lee and Spidey become allies. Oh yeah! And Mary Jane even decides to cut Pete some slack and give him another shot at taking her on a date. Another happy ending all around.

The Verdict

I must confess, I’ve never had much interest in Mysterio. That’s not to say there isn’t a time and place for the character, and some iterations are more worthy of consideration than others, but his gimmick quickly grows old. It’s always the same: Something out of the ordinary happens that makes Spider-man question his reality, until he’s forced to trust his spider-sense, revealing it was an elaborate illusion all along. Rinse. Recycle. Repeat. It’s no surprise to me that the showrunners would use the character sparingly, moving forward.

The strongest parts of this episode are those that don’t focus on Mysterio at all. The subplot (which I skipped over in my breakdown) features Peter wanting to give up on being Spidey altogether after his initial defeat. Thankfully Terri Lee conveniently makes a comment to Peter that causes him to reconsider early retirement, but it’s in this character beat that we’re finally shown Spidey’s fabled origin. It’s actually a pretty economical way to bring a young target audience up to speed on the wall-crawler’s backstory, while tying it to his current existential dilemma. World building aside, it’s the theme of power and responsibility (overstated as it has come to be) that has always endeared me to the character; If only that theme could have been introduced in a stronger episode.

In the end, I can attribute neither love nor hate toward ‘The Menace of Mysterio’, but rather an apathetic “Meh.”

2.5 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

I realize that supervillains being in possession of expensive toys is a trope that one sometimes has to accept; but seriously, HOW is Mysterio paying for any of this? In this episode alone he has tiny cubes capable of projecting a wide array of complex illusions, animatronic dinosaurs/pirates/zombies/spiders, and a giant hydraulic spinning wheel (the original purpose for which I couldn’t possibly hazard a guess). Having actually worked in the film industry, I am confident that even a highly paid SFX technician wouldn’t be able to afford all those gadgets without additional funding. Indeed, I’ve only worked on a handful of films that would have possessed a budget large enough to accommodate even half the technology utilized by Mr. Beck, and even those would have been rentals. I’m beginning to suspect the writers didn’t even care about the financial logistics of supervillainy.

Responsibility count: With Uncle Ben's Introduction, Peter utters the show's very first use of "with great power comes great responsibility." But don't worry if you missed it, we're gonna hear that chestnut MANY times before the series comes to an end.

Pete’s missed connection with Mary Jane was supposed to be a study-date for her requisite physics class (MJ is otherwise a student of the arts/acting), hence why she’s miffed when Pete fails to show. Thankfully it all works out, as she explains she chose to just knuckle down and do the studying herself, passing the test in the process. That’s all well-and-good, but then she drops some platitude about how arts and sciences are basically the same thing because “they’re both about trying to understand the world around us”. I appreciate that, broadly speaking, that may be philosophically pertinent, but it’s just such irrelevant point to make, considering that truth derived through artistic mediums is often considerably more subjective (particularly in a class setting). It’s also precisely the sort of comment I would have once nodded at ponderously in theatre school (especially if it was said by a cute redhead), and I don’t appreciate being called out like that.

2 notes · View notes

hollowsart · 10 months ago

Text

I love the way the light from my window sometimes shines on his helmet, or even gauntlet when I wake up 💖✨️

(Don't mind my room in the bg)

#ghostie pics #mysterio #quentin beck #I still love my little figure so much. my favorite one by a long shot

32 notes · View notes

jrmytxt · 2 years ago

Text

Hiding The Hickeys

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Characters: Bruce Banner, Quentin Beck, Tony Stark

Relationship: Bruce Banner/Quentin Beck

Summary: “You’re awake,” Quentin spoke, sounding a tad surprised. Bruce nodded in response, sitting and staring blankly, unsure what else to do. What was he supposed to respond? Before he could think more about that, though, Quentin spoke up again. “I’ll make breakfast. Unless you want to get the hell out of here instead.”

The younger man sounded unsure and Bruce shook his head.

“I’ll stay for coffee.”

Trigger Warnings: N/A

Genre: Humor, Romance, Fluff

Word Count: 1578

Notes: Implied sexual content, no smut actually written. This ship as been living in my mind rent free recently. Enjoy!

Written for the @marvelrarepairbingo

READ ON AO3

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Bruce typically didn’t have the time for a partner, it wasn’t in his schedule. He was busy and a relationship would either distract him or have his partner fall short in his life. It’s what he told himself to make peace with the crushing loneliness he was experiencing.

Usually casual sex wasn’t in his schedule either for the same reasons as above. He was too busy to go to a club, to enjoy himself, to mess around even if it was only for a night. Whatever he was working on was far more important, and if he wasn’t working on anything, he could find something else.

He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that he was sure people wouldn’t have found him attractive anyway.

Now, with such a busy schedule, Bruce wondered how he’d somehow managed to snag both.

Him and Quentin hadn’t been anything serious for quite a while. Really, they hadn’t been anything, not even friends.

He’d met the other when he had just started at Stark Industries and Bruce had been tasked to show him around. Why only Tony knew, but the responsibility had successfully been laid onto him and he’d done what was asked of him. They didn’t really talk much aside from what was necessary, with Quentin occasionally commenting on how he was very honoured to be in Bruce’s presence and how he admired his work. When the tour had ended that had been it and there wasn’t really supposed to be anything more to it.

They’d met a couple of times in the building, run into each other, exchanged a greeting, and that had been the most conversation they had. It wasn’t until they ran into each other outside of work that something else came into the mix.

It was one of the rare times Bruce had decided to go out for the night, try and enjoy himself. A new gay bar had recently opened around where he lived and he decided to shoot his shot, maybe find a nice man for the night, and then get right back to work the next day.

Sitting down at the dimly lit bar it didn’t take long for someone to sit next to him. Giving the man a smile he began engaging in small talk with him, feeling himself loosen up a bit as they talked. The other man seemed to be a fair bit younger than him but neither of them minded, the conversation carrying even with that. Bruce wasn’t beyond sleeping with younger men and the other didn’t seem disinterested either.

Soon enough their simple conversation had started getting a bit more physical. Light touches on the thigh, hands intertwining and, soon enough, making out. Hearing that anticipated phrase almost made Bruce chuckle.

“Your place or mine?”

Given that he was living with the other Avengers he wasn’t all that keen on taking a one night stand home. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Tony and he didn’t want to put this poor guy on the spot either.

Bruce was used to not being recognized, neither for his work for the Avengers nor for his work in the scientific community and, if he was honest, he liked it like that. Of course he enjoyed the occasional compliment about his work but his anonymity allowed him a relatively normal life. Hell, it allowed for him to even be in this situation in the first place.

They hadn’t even told each other their names yet, Bruce realized as they left the bar and headed towards a taxi. Though, once outside, he realized he didn’t need the other man to tell him. They’d barely talked before so of course he didn’t recognize him in the faint light of the bar but now, outside, he got a good look and immediately knew that it was the really cute Stark Industries employee he’d shown around on his first day.

He now had no doubt that Quentin had recognized him as well, judging by how his small grin didn’t fade once on the way to his flat, seeming content to go back to making out with him as soon as they were through his front door.

Bruce didn’t mind, though, all thoughts regarding any possible consequences leaving his head as he let the other lead him over to his bed, enjoying one of the best nights he’d had in a while.

Morning came around soon enough and Bruce frowned when he saw the bed beside him was empty already. It couldn’t be that late, the sun was just starting to rise. Stretching he was about to get up, ready for the inevitable awkwardness that followed a one night stand, when the bedroom door creaked open, shining a ray of light from the hallway inside.

“You’re awake,” Quentin spoke, sounding a tad surprised. Bruce nodded in response, sitting and staring blankly, unsure what else to do. What was he supposed to respond? Before he could think more about that, though, Quentin spoke up again. “I’ll make breakfast. Unless you want to get the hell out of here instead.”

The younger man sounded unsure and Bruce shook his head.

“I’ll stay for coffee.”

Given that it was a Saturday morning Bruce would have had enough time to head home, forget this ever happened, and move on with his life. A bit of awkwardness whenever he ran into Quentin in the halls, but he’d have never needed to interact with him again afterwards. What he did instead was stay the entire weekend, screwing Beck silly every opportunity he got.

It was a nice change of pace from how his weekends usually went and he couldn’t complain too much about it, especially when Monday morning he still had Quentin on his lips before he left for work, murmuring something about wanting to repeat this.

And hell, the entire day the weekend had been on his mind. It distracted him quite a bit. He was lucky enough to work alone so no one noticed, aside from the times Tony came to keep him company.

The other seemed none the wiser, however, and Bruce chalked it up to Tony not even paying attention to him while talking about himself.

Eventually he decided he needed a break, heading towards the SI cafeteria to grab a coffee and maybe something to eat as well.

As fate would have it, he, quite literally, ran into someone, dropping his own wallet and their stack of papers. Cursing under his breath he looked up to see who he had to apologize too and his eyes widened when he realized it was Quentin. Quentin, who was wearing a turtleneck that went up way higher than it needed to, no doubt to conceal the hickeys Bruce had left there the previous weekend with no regard to how it might affect the other’s work, and immediately he felt bad about it and then felt a strange sense of pride as well. Hm, maybe he should look into that later.

Before he had the chance to apologize for running into him though the other had already caught his eye, smirk making its way onto his face.

“Dr. Banner, didn’t anticipate running into you today.”

Quentin grinned, no doubt proud of his stupid joke and Bruce couldn’t help the small smile that spread over his face.

“Neither did I. Sorry, by the way.”

He leaned down to help the other pick up his papers, noticing the other’s turtleneck slip down a bit to reveal the deep purple marks on his neck and he bit his lip. Quickly pushing that train of thought away he handed him the papers and gave him a small smile.

“I hope you’re okay.” “Don’t worry. I’m just sore.”

The wink that followed made Bruce clear his throat, hoping his small blush wasn’t too obvious. Though, judging by the expression on Quentin’s face, his hope wasn’t strong enough.

“I do hope I’ll be seeing you around more often, Dr. Banner.”

Another wink and then Quentin was gone before Bruce could even respond. Oh, he definitely would.

They’d ended up meeting up almost every weekend after that and Bruce had to say, he couldn’t believe he’d willingly been missing out on this. Quentin was spectacular in bed and incredibly good company even outside of the bedroom. It was inevitable that he fell for him, really, when he thought about it.

It was just his luck that Quentin admitted to feeling the same after a long weekend spent rolling around in the hay.

“This was always how it was gonna go, Bruce,” he’d said, tracing patterns in Bruce’s chest. “Us, here… More than just fucking. You know what I mean.”

It was all the admission Bruce needed and he leaned down to kiss him, much softer this time around.

“Mean green. Been getting around lately, huh?”

Tony’s voice startled Bruce out of his thoughts and he looked up at his best friend, confusion written all over his face. He didn’t remember giving any indication that he was seeing anyone. Tony, as if reading his mind, pointed at his neck.

“You got to get better at hiding them, you can’t just show up to an Avengers meeting looking all marked up. C’mon, I know some tricks.”

The deep red flush crossing Bruce’s face only seemed to amuse Tony more and quietly he cursed, vowing to make an agreement with Quentin to only leave hickeys in places where no one else could see.

#mcu #bruce banner #quentin beck #marvel #brentin #mysterio #my writing #marvel rare pair bingo

3 notes · View notes

fardell24b · 1 month ago

Text

Monday Writings - 30th September 2024

“Effective is good,” the Shadow said. “Lawndale needs all the help it can get. But I need to get going.”

“Of course.”

Philippa didn’t need to wait long before the Shadow returned. “I’m afraid, Daria and Sandi disappeared somewhere,” she said as she handed the spare grapple gun back.

“I knew it was a long shot anyway. Plenty of spaces for them to duck into,” the Shadow responded.

“Something happen?”

“I helped avert a mugging. But the fourth vigilante and the actual fifth also responded.”

“Did the fifth have a name? Or is that being hidden as well?” Philippa asked.

The Shadow considered Philippa’s question. ‘It will come out soon enough, even if the Enigma’s hasn’t.’ She thought some more. “Dafoanairi, but I would keep that to yourself for now.”

“Dafoanairi,” Philippa repeated before yawning. “Something to consider in the morning.”

“I’ll get you home.”

Daria and Sandi met back in front of the Oscorp office they were examining earlier. “That went well,” the latter said.

“Except the mugger got away.”

Sandi shrugged. “Burnout Girl got her stuff back.”

“You mean, Jennifer, right,” Daria said. “I’m not sure why she has that nickname.”

“Jennifer, of course.”

“Anyway, she’s in the play.”

“I see,” Sandi said.

“And I have now met the rest of the vigilantes. I still have no idea who they are.”

“Maybe if you spend more time with them.”

“Maybe, but I’ll continue as I have been,” Daria said as she peered into an office window.

As she and Philippa headed back towards Glen Oaks Lane, the Shadow considered her encounter with Dafoanairi. ‘She was quiet and was pitching her voice up. But I change my voice, SpiderGirl speaks confidently, Ninja Talon pitches hers down and the Enigma speaks blandly.’ No proof to identities there.

SpiderGirl emerged at the usual time. She reflected on the changes in herself and those around her. ‘Before I got bit by that spider and Daddy died, I wouldn’t have dreamed that I would be a superhero and helping to run a theatre at my young age.

A short while later, she heard something to the north and swung away.

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Sunday, February 18, 2001

Cafes in Cranberry Commons losing Customers

Jennifer Burns arrived at the Historia at 12:30. The previous night’s experience had had her jittery. More than Groundhog Day had. She went up to the counter.

“How may I serve you?” Stacy Rowe asked.

“Hamburger with coffee,” Jennifer responded quietly.

“Got it!” Stacy said.

“So, you’re in the play?” Stacy asked when she had passed the order on.

“As a stagehand,” Jennifer said. “I’m not cut out to be an actor.”

“You won’t know until you try.”

“Have you tried?”

“Yes,” Stacy admitted. “It’s much like when I’m behind the wheel. Exhilarating. As long as I don’t look at the audience.”

“I still don’t quite believe you street race.”

“It will start up again soon. I hope the vigilantes won’t get in the way.”

“They might,” Jennifer mused. “I’d inevitably look at the audience.”

“I try looking at the fellow actors or offstage.”

“I guess so.”

Quentin arrived at 1:00. ‘I’m sure Quinn said she’d be here.’ He entered the café and looked around. No Quinn. But he did see a girl with long auburn hair who he supposed was her sister eating with a girl with raven black hair and blue eyes.

“Hello, you’re one of the Morgendorffers?”

“Who’s asking?” Daria asked.

“Quentin Beck.”

“The new special effects person? Yes, I’m Daria, and that’s Jane.”

“Yo!” Jane said. “I’m involved in the set design.”

“Quinn says that you select the plays?”

“To put it succinctly yes. Quinn will be here soon, you can order some lunch while you’re waiting. The rehearsals won’t start for another hour and a half,” Daria said.

“I will do that,” Beck said.

Ninja Talon arrived on the top of the Historia, where SpiderGirl was waiting. “Ready for the play?” the latter asked.

“I am,” Ninja Talon answered. “But you’re worried about something?”

“Two things. First, Daria knows the identity of the Enigma. Second: I have hired the special effects artist.”

Ninja Talon thought about the first point. “How do you know?”

“Jane saw the note she had made and told us at Dinner,” SpiderGirl answered. “It’s on her wall, where she has been putting newspaper articles about me up.”

“Oh. It must be because she has been spending a lot of time with her.”

“That’s obvious. It’s making me even more wary of spending any amount of time with Dafoanairi. I don’t want her figuring out that I’m her sister that way.”

Ninja Talon still wasn’t sure that SpiderGirl was right about that. Dafoanairi didn’t remind her of Daria much. She decided to change the topic. “But the special effects person?”

“He was rather condescending when he saw that I was the one doing the interview. The others weren’t so much. They were more likely to believe that teens would be running a theatre.”

“And you think you made the wrong choice?”

“I rarely second-guess myself, Talon. It’s like an intuition, but not normal intuition. The Spider Sense isn’t tingling either. Something just seems off. Like, why would someone from Hollywood come to Lawndale?”

“I’m not sure, Spidey, but I’ll help you figure it out.”

“Thanks,” SpiderGirl said as she looked at her friend, and then around at the town. “Let’s go down.”

#brittany taylor #daria #daria morgendorffer #fanfic #jane lane #quentin beck #quinn morgendorffer #sandi griffin #spider-man #stacy rowe

0 notes