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ad1thi · 3 years

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2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

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

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

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

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

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

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

#adi's rec list #superbat #superhusbands #winterironfalcon #mcdanno #buckytony #peppernat #superfamily #rhodeytony #ironfamily #and that's a wrap!!!

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

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

tw: enemies-to-lovers, swearing, mentions of fighting

----

Peter’s day started like most others.

The nearby screech of his alarm startles him into the waking world. Without opening his eyes, he fumbles against his bedside table to grab his phone, smacking himself in the face in his haste to silence it.

It’s always a Herculean effort to get up before the sun does, and today is no different. Squinting against the grey morning light, Peter contemplates simply closing his eyes and going back to sleep. The thought is tempting, the pull of sleep still in his limbs.

Instead, he resigns himself to the day and slips out of bed, reaching for his glasses and propping them on his face.

Through finger-smudged lenses his phone say’s five-thirty-four, which in itself is an affront, but he’s comforted that it’s a Friday and respite isn’t far off. This weekend will be spent sleeping, playing video games and eating cinnamon poptarts until he succumbs to a blissful food coma.

He can’t freakin’ wait.

Hearing his aunt rouse the room over, Peter gathers his clothes and hurries to the shower. The November chill bites as his bare feet touch the floor and he shivers, cursing the lack of heating in his apartment. It’s positively freezing.

The hot water is nice while he showers, but it’s much worse when he gets out, still wet as he tiptoes back to his bedroom. Fruitlessly, he bangs the old iron radiator in the hall with his fist as he passes it, because it does little more than encourage a groan from the ancient equipment.

Back in his bedroom, Peter hums as slips on his sweats and sneakers and readies himself for the day against the tune of an awakening neighborhood, spraying himself with probably too much deodorant in the process.

Finished, Peter puts his glasses back on and in the window he inspects his reflection. He smiles.

It’s Friday.

It’s gonna be a great day.

----

To no-ones shock but his own, his affirmation was proving true.

So far, Peter actually was having a great day.

Because it was late November but the sun was shining so splendidly that it quickly froze the frost from the windows. A small miracle occurred when he found a scrunched twenty dollar note stashed in the pocket of his jacket - and with it he treated himself up a packet of Lays, a red bull and a sandwich from Delmars

And for once, he wasn’t late to training.

For the early hour that he arrives, the school is near empty, save for the male locker room which is slowly teeming with a slow drip of weary-eyed boys. Yawning, Peter dumps his backpack and retrieves his mouthguard, sharing commiserative glances with his zombie-eyed teammates. It’s truly an ungodly hour to be at school.

But, despite his drowsiness, Peter doesn’t mind the early mornings so much, probably more accustomed to it than the rest. It sucks, but he’s happy to get the training out of the way -- it makes time for after school priorities like Robotics and chess club.

He slaps Barnes’ on the back when they file out, jogging to get ahead. Like his heater, his friend groans in response.

Coach Danvers is already there when they arrive, her arms crossed over her chest. Peter approaches the field with a growing sense of weariness, augmented by the flat line her mouth forms as they near.

Once the team is assembled, Coach clears her throat loudly for their attention.

“Look alive, boys,” she raises her voice. “Good morning. I’d like you to welcome back Wilson and Rogers, who, as you may recall, were suspended from training for three weeks.”

Suspended completely from school grounds was more accurate, Peter thinks, clapping along as cheers erupt around him, the remarks are met with fervent enthusiasm for their return. Someone whistles and he looks to the source, spotting the two boys in question in receipt of fist-bumps and back-slaps from the team.

Rogers and Wilson rarely did anything in isolation of one another. They were attached at the hip. It was probably the reason that they were both involved in a fist-fight with a couple of other juniors a few weeks prior.

Peter’s happy to see them back. They’re great guys, have always been good to him. And whilst he steadfastly abhors needless violence, Peter finds himself in a grey area to judge the circumstances. He wasn’t there, doesn’t know what the fight was about. What he does know is that they were both damn lucky they weren’t kicked off the team.

It’s probably because the board knows they wouldn’t win another game without them.

Lucky for the team.

“Enough,” Coach snaps. “We play Kingston next week, six days! You look like you want to play hopscotch instead of football. Do you want to play hopscotch?”

“No, coach,” the team settles, echoing in unison. Danvers slowly circles the group, eyeing each of them down as they fall into line. Peter keeps his gaze fixed to the goal posts on the near horizon to avoid her furious gaze.

“Doesn’t look like it. Are you sure?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Well, color me shocked. Maybe you want to hold hands and paint each others fingernails? Well, guess what, boys - I do not care what you want. What I want -- and what you should want -- is to not give Principal Fury a reason why we’ve lost another match. So you,” she points at Rogers, “and all of you juvenile delinquents,” she gestures to the crowd, “keep the violence to the field. Am I clear?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Great,” she brings her whistle to her mouth. “Gassers until I say stop or until you pass out, starting now. Move!”

Her whistle sounds sharply and, at faced with the fury of her stare, the team scatters across the field.

No one more so than Peter, who flees to the hard edge of the field at her command and commences running, feeling every chomp of the frigid, late fall air in his chest.

Coach Danvers was a hardass. But if anyone could convince Fury to not kick two of their best players off the team, it was her.

Peter had well well and truly worked up a sweat by the time the whistle was blown again and the team was split into three to run drills.

He was wishing he hadn’t eaten the whole sandwich from earlier when Quill rams his shoulder into his stomach for the third time, bile rising in his throat. He powers through it but by the time coach blows her whistle again to switch to the next drill, he’s feeling green, sunburnt and sweaty.

Which wouldn’t be so bad, if a small crowd of students hadn’t rocked up early, relaxing on the bleachers to watch the training.

Amongst them were a group of juniors who were smoking and laughing to themselves. They gave Peter the finger when he ran past, but he ignored them.

“You suck, Parker!”

The colour commentary from this particular group wasn’t uncommon, but Peter didn’t care. He’d heard worse from Flash in middle school -- and they were good friends now.

Not that Peter wasn’t paying attention. Because also perched upon the steps was a group of seniors, specifically, a fair-haired boy that made Peter’s heart do funny things in his chest.

As Peter ran his laps, the aforementioned boy descended the stairs. He leans across the fencing separating the seats and the field and smiles at Peter when he looks over.

Peter would blush, were his face not already pink with exertion.

The boy’s name is Thor.

Well, that’s what his friends call him. Peter isn’t actually sure of his full name but he does know that Thor is a senior and an exchange student from somewhere in Europe.

Thor started at their school in September, qualified immediately for their varsity team and is a super sweet guy.

His locker gets stuck sometimes. It just takes elbow grease, but once, Thor noticed him struggling to open it and didn’t hesitate to hurry over to help. He had it opened in a matter of seconds and had smiled just like he did now. Peter has been smitten ever since.

Any lingering doubts he’d had over the summer regarding his bisexuality were swiftly and resolutely confirmed as soon as he saw the older boy striding down the halls, a head taller than anyone else, smile a mile wide, accent like liquid gold.

He’s just so pretty. And nice.

Feeling Thor’s eyes on him, self-consciousness creeps over Peter as he continues his laps. But he channels it, using the opportunity to prove himself, maybe impress the other boy, running faster despite the burn in his lungs and thighs.

Come on, Parker, keep going.

He looks over again. Every time he does Thor is looking at him - at Peter - and maybe it really is his lucky day. He keeps pushing himself to go faster, harder until his heart is throbbing in his ears. The next time he looks over though, Thor is lifting his sweater over his head.

The action makes his undershirt ride up, revealing a tantalising strip of bare, hard skin.

Peter trips, hitting the ground hard.

Motherfuck.

There is immediate, raucous laughter by the bleachers as he groans and picks himself up, body protesting. He spits out grass on the ground, dazedly noticing the smoking kids, Stark and Rhodes, clapping at Peter’s performance.

Setting back into a jog as his face flames, Peter refuses to look over again to see if Thor noticed.

That would be just his luck.

----

By first period a deep, purple bruise is blooming on his chin and knees. There’s a graze on his cheek from the fall and his jaw feels like it did when he first got braces in fifth grade, stiff as hell and sensitive to the touch.

Shuri laughs at him when he sits beside her.

“That bad?” Peter asks, flinching when she takes his jaw in hand to inspect the damage.

“It’s not like you can get any uglier,” she remarks, turning his head from side to side. “It’s fine, just maybe don’t smile at small children. What happened -- did you try to rescue another old woman?”

“No,” he sighs, pulling back, embarrassed. “I fell at training this morning and ate dirt. I got distracted.”

“That’s a first.”

His cheeks heat.

“Yeah, well.” He leans in closer to whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Thor was there. He said hi to me.”

“That’s it? He said hi?”

“Well, kinda. He smiled at me. Like, he looked directly at me and bam, blinded by the light. And then he did this thing with his shirt --”

Shuri’s eyes go wide but whatever she has to say is curbed by the arrival of their teacher. She pulls out her notebook and points at him with her pen. “New low,” she whispers. “What the fuck, PP.”

Peter shrugs.

Her disdain is evident and Peter can’t help but smile, even as it pulls his injuries.

His fortune again turns, receiving top marks for the last assignment and his teacher wasn’t even that mad when he was caught texting during class. Maybe it was the split lip or the sorry state of his nose that inspired pity from the faculty, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

He clearly wasn’t going to get through to college through his prowess at football, so he pockets his phone, apologises sheepishly and sticks his head into his books.

Maybe he replays the moment in his head as he takes notes, filled with equal measures of shame and giddiness.

At least May would be satisfied that his glasses were preserved from damage and wouldn’t have to buy a new pair.

By the time class ends, his face is well and truly throbbing. He winces when he yawns, prompting Shuri to roll her eyes at him as they head into the halls.

“You’re so embarrassing,” she says, knocking their hips together as they weave through students on their way to the bio labs.

“Pity me. I’m wounded.”

“Oh I pity you alright,” she says distractedly, nodding to the far end of the hall. “Hey, look. Stark and Rhodes are back from suspension.”

Peter looks over.

Stark is talking to some girl, leaning against the lockers while Rhodes tries to pull him away, presumably towards their next class.

Peter shakes his head, recalling their antics that morning. “Yeah, I noticed. Stark should have been expelled. He started that fight.”

“Uhh, don’t even. Rogers threw the first punch,” Shuri reasons, waving to both boys as they pass.

“Semantics.”

“That’s a big boy word.”

“I’m a big boy.”

Shuri pokes his grazed cheek.

“Sure you are.”

----

The next few periods passed without a hitch.

But the best part of all came during lunch.

It was Mac’n’Cheese day. The best day of the week -- well, the only day of the week that Peter can afford cafeteria food, if he was honest, but he sure made it count.

Fortuitously, MJ had gotten there early enough to secure their group a table together and the lunchlady that was sweet on Peter had given him an extra scoop of the gooey pasta, to his delight. Maybe it really was his lucky day, he thinks, taking a spot at the table.

That would be a first.

He’d been riding on the high of his morning, gracelessly shovelling the cheesy goodness into his gullet when it happened.

“Don’t look now,” Natasha says to his left. “Wonderboy is coming through.”

Peter looks up at the exact moment Thor strides past their table, catching his eye.

The other boy grins roguishly at him. His teeth are so white.

“Hey there, Pete,” he waves, nodding to the rest of the table and moving on

“H-Hey, Thor,” he swallow roughly, waving back. “H-Hows it going?”

Thor already having moved on, doesn’t respond, and for the butterflies beating against his stomach, Peter doesn’t even care. He smiles down at his pasta, heart racing a mile a minute. Wow.

“Hey, Thor,” Shuri imitates him.

Peter swallows, ignoring her, cheeks going pink. “He knows my name. Oh my god. He knows my name.”

“Who cares, the whole school knows your name,” MJ says, without looking up from her textbook.

Shuri points her fork at her in agreement. “Yes. Thor’s a meathead. You can do better.”

“No he can’t,” Ned disagrees. "Have you seen that guy? His biceps are like bowling balls.”

Bucky parks himself between Steve and Natasha, throwing an arm around them both. He puts on a high voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “Who, Thor? I heard he’s a model for Burberry.”

“I heard he does Adidas commercials in Norway,” Natasha adds.

“And he’s quarterback of the varsity team,” Flash finishes.

MJ blinks.

“And?”

“He’s got a four-point-oh,” Peter says dreamily.

He stops paying attention, eyes going unfocused as he imagines their next interaction. Maybe Thor will ask him out, god willing. He imagines Thor and himself graduating as Valedictorians in their respective years, throwing their caps high into the sky and embracing. Their classmates will clap as they kiss. Maybe they’ll then spend the summer in Thor’s hometown, wherever that is. Peter doesn’t know, but maybe it has rolling green hills, cute cobblestone roads and snow-capped mountains, maybe they’ll go on horse rides and picnics where Thor will surprise Peter and propose and --

Someone snorts behind Peter, shattering the illusion.

Peter turns in his chair to find one Tony Stark grinning wickedly, apparently eavesdropping.

“What,” he prompts, frowning when that elicits a wider smile from the other boy, his dark and unkempt hair falling across his forehead in front of his eyes.

“Nothin’,” Tony tucks his wayward strands behind his ear. “I mean, well. Just that you said he’s got a four-point-oh.”

“And?”

Tony shrugs. He holds his pinkie up to his face and wriggles it.

“And I dunno, Parker. Gotta say; You seen him in the showers? Four is a little generous, don’t you think? More like three.”

Peter stares.

Tony tilts his head, conceding.

“O-kay, three and a half.”

Peter rolls his eyes. This guy is freaking bent.

“Well, that’s three and a half more that he’s got on you, Stark. Mind your own business.” he turns back around to the table. MJ, across from him, has her lips pursed in an attempt to hide her smile.

“S’gotta be the steroids,” is what he hears Tony say to his friends before they start to snicker. “Seriously -- you seen that guys’ balls? No? Neither have I. Not for a lack of trying.”

Peter ignores him.

Tony Stark is prickly. A smartass, although he’s rarely antagonistic -- unless it’s towards Peter and his team mates, of course.

Peter doesn’t really get why. It doesn’t serve him to spend longer moments of musings on someone who clearly hates him, but thinks Steve and Tony used to be friends before falling out at some point, way before Peter came to the high school and joined the JV team.

Like he does with everyone, Peter had tried to befriend Tony at first, but it quickly became clear that the other boy had no interest in making nice, sneering at every pleasantry and effort. Before long, Peter’s extended hand of friendship became a clenched fist.

Rhodes and Potts, his friends, seem to be reasonable. Cordial that borders on unfriendly, sure, but reasonable.

Tony, however, seems to get a kick out of the perpetual disharmony.

Whatever, Peter scoops up the last of his pasta, chewing it with a pleased sigh. It doesn’t matter. Propping his chin on his hand, he replays the exchange with Thor over again in his mind, heart racing all over again.

This is the best day ever.

Not even Tony Stark can bring him down today.

-----

Peter Parker wouldn’t consider himself a religious person or a believer in a higher power. He was scientific, clinical. Rarely did he attribute his fortunes -- or misfortunes as it were -- to anything other than deterministic chaos.

But there was something called Parker Luck, as his Aunt called it. Whilst evidence of it was purely anecdotal, it was a theory Peter believed in whole heartedly.

He might not have hard proof, but all the trends in his life end in the same answer.

Parker Luck. It’s a thing.

----

Fortune, momentarily swings his way again during History.

Mr Jacobs, their regular teacher with a stiff upper-lip, is off sick and the sub lets them have an independent study period, which is code for doing fuck all.

He doesn’t have any friends in this class so he utilises the time finishing his math homework and doodling in his notebook. If he draws a few hearts with his own initials and those of a certain exchange student, then, well, that’s his business.

By the time he’s in Economics, his final class of the day, Peter is feeling pretty damn good.

He takes his usual seat in the back row next to Natasha, dropping his books on the table with a thud. The noise awakens Jake, the stoner guy, who sits on his other side. Peter offers him a smile as he takes his seat.

This should be good.

While Economics holds no special place in his heart, Miss Ahn is by far his favorite teacher. She’s young, late twenties, Peter thinks, and is one of the more approachable teachers in the faculty. She worked for some big deal accounting firm before she found her calling in teaching and has always been good to Peter.

She watches the kids as they file in and smiles at them as they take their seats. In her hand she’s holding a Met’s cap (another reason for Peter to adore her) which, upon inspection, to be full of folded pieces of paper.

When she has the attention of the room she greets the class and takes attendance. Curiously, nothing is said about the hat afterwards as she walks around the room, offering the hat to each student and allowing them to withdraw a single piece of paper.

Bewildered, Peter watches his peers and their increasing confusion as they open their pieces until it’s his turn.

He takes one out of her hat and opens it with uncertainly.

He unfolds it. It reads: middle-school art teacher.

Peter frowns.

He peers over to Natasha, whose expression mirrors his own.

“Great, that’s everyone!” Miss Ahn nods and returns to the front of the room to lean back on her desk. A slow smile spreads on her face and Peter, for the first time in her classroom, feels dread creep up his spine.

“So,” she claps, “building on our discussion last week we were talking microeconomics versus macroeconomics, I mentioned an assignment. Who remembers?”

The class collectively groans.

“I know, I know, it’s a hard knock life. But, it’s not going to be that bad, i promise. You might find it fun. Mr Barnes, what does yours say?”

In front of Peter’s desk, he watches Bucky unfold his paper, pausing.

“...Personal trainer?”

“Great. And yours, Mr Wilson?”

In the second row, Sam frowns at his paper. “Therapist.”

Miss Ahn seems pleased, pointing at the two.

“Congrats, you two are partners for the next week. You’re married, you have no children. But you holiday twice a year and have a mortgage.”

“I’m sorry,” Barnes glances between Wilson and their teacher. “We what?”

She addresses the class as a whole.

“You two, as you all are once you are partnered, are to prepare an annual budget for your fictional household. This is the microeconomics portion of the assignment.”

“Are you saying I’m fake-married to this clown?” Sam gestures with his thumb, displeasure written all over his face.

Peter snorts as their teacher nods.

“Right! Just for two weeks. I expect your budgets to be detailed, okay? I strongly recommend extensive research into the respective fields you are assigned. Average salary, student loan forecast, the works. Figure out how much you owe and how much you earn. Rent! Bills! This is worth 40% of your semester grade. Do you love it?”

Peter looks back down at his paper, reading it again. The trepidation from earlier comes back as a pit in his stomach.

"Miss Potts, how about your paper?”

The girl grimaces.

“Divorce lawyer.”

“Great. And Mr Rhodes?”

“Colonel,” he reads, tilting his head as he considers his paper. “Cool.”

“Awesome. You two are estranged sweethearts, supporting three kids. You share equal alimony, rent separately, and are set to remarry. Natasha?”

Natasha blinks at her paper. “Executive Producer.”

His teacher hums, tapping her lips with her finger as she circles her desk. “Single. No kids.”

Natasha grins, all teeth.

“Mr Parker?”

Peter reads his paper aloud, smiling as his fingers shake, feeling each pair of eyes of his fellow students as they await his fate.

“And you, Mr Stark?

In the second row, closest to the door, Tony crumples his paper in his hand. The room is pervasively silent. Tony clears his throat, tossing the paper onto his desk with evident disdain.

“Stay-at-home-parent,” his voice so quiet that Peter nearly misses it.

“Excellent. Okay then, you and Mr Parker are married ---”

Peter’s stomach drops.

Oh no.

“-- you’ve just adopted a four year old. You two met at work, Mr Stark is taking time off to care for the child -- figure out your savings, salary, budget for a new family --”

Tony’s hand shoots up swiftly, his fingers waving in the air.

Peter follows suit, arm stretching high. No. This is -- no.

“Miss Anh?” Tony interrupts, bouncing in his seat. “Yes, hi. Tony Stark, that’s me, the guy you just condemned. Just wondering, is it possible to switch partners?”

The teacher pauses,

“No, it's not.”

Peter raises his hand higher.

“Can you make an exception?” he asks, lowering his hand and looking between Tony and Miss Ahn uneasily. “I think that would be best.”

She places her hands on her hips.

“What’s the issue, boys?”

Before Peter can even open his mouth, the other boy cuts in.

“You see Miss A,” Tony interjects, hands pressed together in a fervent plea, eyes closing, as if in prayer. “Here’s the thing: I just can’t work with neanderthals. They bring down my grade average.”

“Anthony.”

Miss Ahn frowns. The entire class turns in their seats to watch the exchange and Peter feels his face heat.

“Well lucky for him, I can’t work with underachieving eighties rejects whose parents pay for their grades.”

“Wow,” Stark gestures to their teacher, “you hear that Miss? You driving that ‘94 Volvo on my parents money? Gosh, I am so sorry. Let me get you an upgrade.”

He turns to Peter, face heating at the attention of the class.

“Shit, Parker,” he continues, gesturing to him. “You really are as dumb as rocks. I mean, don’t you ever get tired of perpetuating your own stereotype?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Do you ever get tired of being an insufferable asshole?”

Tony puts a hand on his chest. “Absolutely. It keeps me up at night.”

Peter huffs. “You’re exhausting.”

“You’re loathsome.”

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

“Boys!” Miss Ahn cuts in, snapping her fingers, her expression positively thunderous. “I don’t know what has got into either of you, but that is enough.” She points to them both. “Unless you have a real, valid complaint, quit it. Right now. You’re going to work together on this assignment or you both of you will fail.”

Peter and Tony share a look.

“Your choice,” she says, pointing at each of them. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Tony huffs, turning back to face the front of the room.

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

“Great. Now, not a word from either of you for the remainder of this class. Scott, your turn.”

Peter fumes silently as Scott unfolds his paper and reads it aloud to the room.

“An entomologist!” He shifts excitedly in his seat, beaming widely. “Wow! Wow. Man, that’s so cool. I love Lord of The Rings.”

Miss Ahn sighs.

---

“Stop laughing,” Peter hisses, leaning in closer to Natasha. “Shut up. It’s not funny.”

The redhead leans against Peter’s locker, hand clamped over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You are not,” Peter grumbles, brushing her aside to get into his locker. It sticks when he pulls iy, like it always does, and Peter has to tug to get it open. “This is the worst day of my life. I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed.”

“Who’s cursed?”

Peter turns in time to see Bucky swoop in and embrace Natasha from behind.

“Me. I’m cursed. I gotta be, right? I mean, what reason would there be for me to be paired with Tony Stark? Am I not a good person? Have I not suffered enough?”

Natasha opens her mouth but Peter barrels on.

“And what does Tony Stark know about managing money?” he continues, shoving notebooks haphazardly into his bag, despair increasing. “His dad owns a fleet of Ferraris and a private jet. He probably has a diamond encrusted butthole. The guy hates me -- I’m cursed.”

“Wow. You’re so dramatic.” She looks to Bucky. “Are you hearing this?”

Peter poins a finger at her.

“You’re just saying that because you’re going to be a successful single multi-billionaire or something. I have to be married to the stay-at-home dickwad.”

“Maybe you could teach him a thing or two.”

Peter scoffs, shoving textbooks into his backpack, weekend plans obliterated by the volume of homework he’s received.

“What, like how to not be an asshole?”

“Why are you so obsessed with his asshole?”

“Speaking of the devil,” Bucky cuts in quietly. “Your three o’clock.”

The devil indeed, Peter thinks, zipping his bag and closing his locker. He turns just in time for a stony-faced Tony stride towards him.

“Stark,” he greets darkly.

“Parker. Do you prefer Parker or Princess?” Tony waves his hands dismissively. “Nevermind, I don’t care. So, this assignment? Here’s the thing --”

“Let me guess,” Peter interrupts, slinging the straps of his backpack onto his shoulder. “You’re too busy to complete your half? That’s fine, it’d be best if you let me write it. That way you might actually pass. Win, win.”

Tony looks at him, lips pursed.

“Uh, no. No, and then also, no. That’s an awful idea. What are you, like, a C average?”

“Actually, I’m --”

“I don’t actually care. Listen, as much as I would love to be as far away from you as possible --”

“-- Likewise --”

“ -- Miss A will know if we bullshit her. I know you’re intimately familiar with the experience, but she isn’t an idiot. She can spot your mediocre work a mile away.”

Peter folds his arms over his chest, glasses slipping down his nose.

“You’re not actually proposing we do this together, right,” he queries, pushing them back up. The ire from earlier continues to burn in his chest. “Can you even read?”

“Haha, oh my god, you’re like so funny,” Tony runs a hand through his hair, voice going glib and high pitched. His expression goes serious. “Write your address in my phone. I’ll see you there at six.”

“Why at six?” Peter frowns, taking the phone when Tony waves it in his face. He begins typing in his address, pausing briefly to peer at the other boy. “And why my apartment? Am I going to dirty up your mansion?”

“Penthouse, actually,” Tony crosses his arms over his chest. “And because I have better things to do this afternoon that isn’t aspirating on your sweat fumes.”

“You can aspirate on my ass,” he mumbles through his teeth as he resumes typing, chest going hot.

“Tempting, but no thanks. Are you done yet? You type slow. Do you know you type slow?”

“Shut up,” Peter rolls his eyes, locking the phone and returning it to its owner. “Don’t be late. I’m not joking, I’m not waiting around for you.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Tony pockets his phone, retrieving a cigarette from behind his ear and slipping it between his lips. “Don’t shoot on arrival.”

“No promises.”

It goes unheard, however. Tony has already turned and left, headphones secure over his ears.

Annoyed, he turns back to his friends.

“That guy is the worst.”

If he was expecting sympathy or commiseration, which he was, he comes up short on both. Instead, met with Natasha whispering into her boyfriends ear as she casts him a suspicious side eye.

“What?” He pokes her in the arm. “What are you whispering about.”

Natasha shakes her head, poking him back. It hurts.

“Nothing.”

Before he can retaliate, Bucky slings an arm each around Peter and his girlfriends shoulders, smiling easily at them. As a trio, they walk towards the exit, the hallway near empty, save for a few stragglers idling by the doors.

“Don’t worry, Pete. She was just sayin’ one of you will be dead by morning,” Bucky offers, squeezing his shoulder.

“Um, not me, right?” Peter asks, adjusting his glasses on his nose again. “I’m alive in this scenario?”

"No.”

“Hey!”

Bucky jostles his shoulder. “You saw the shiner he gave Rogers the other week. You already look like you fell into a blender.”

His jaw throbs at the mention.

Natasha snorts. “Ha. You’re a goner.”

“No, I’m not. I could fight if I had to,” Peter argues, as they part the double doors at the exit. Descending the stairs, the couple head towards the carpark and wave him off. “I could!” He yells, walking backwards, accidentally bumping into a harried-looking freshman.

It goes without response. The two share an amused look before disappearing, but Peter isn’t even mad. He’s wily. He could totally take Stark in a fight.

Heading out of the grounds and towards the nearest subway entrance, Peter winces as his injuries are jostled during the descent and massages his cheek gingerly. An old woman ascending the stairs gives him an odd look that turns horrified when he smiles to ease her.

By the time he’s swiped his Metrocard and made his way to his track, his hood is covering his face.

Yep, he’s doomed.

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

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fourdaysofrain · 4 years

Text

So What?

Summary: Tony and Peter exchange Christmas gifts.

(This is my Irondad Fic Exchange fic for @iron-spideyson! The original prompt was, "It’s the first time the Parker’s are coming over for Christmas and Tony is stressed over impressing May and picking the perfect gift for Peter. Little does he know that Peter feels the same." I strayed from it a bit, but I hope you enjoy!)

Read on AO3

“What do you get the man who has everything? Might I suggest a gravestone inscribed with the words: so what?”

The air in the cabin still hummed with the energy of the Christmas party. A few hours ago, all the rooms had been filled to the brim with as many superheroes and families of superheroes that could fit. The holiday season made Tony nostalgic for old friends, sue him. It had been hard to believe there was snow building up outside when everyone was surrounded by the heat of the party.

Now, however, the cabin was empty save for a few of Tony’s closest friends. Most of which were either already sleeping or heading that way. Tony himself was dozing on the couch, a natural progression from when he sat down so Pepper could put Morgan to bed.

His right arm was dangling from the armrest, the soft amber light from the lamp hitting it in a distinctly artificial way. It was a constant work in progress. Tony had just had another breakthrough with the skin color, but it still wasn’t right. It had too many yellow undertones on the inside of his wrist, and too many pink ones near his elbow. Recreating the texture of skin was a no-go as well: the wrinkling was too artificial. It was fine from a few yards away, sure, but it made people uncomfortable up close. The whirring was noticeable to anyone near when he moved it. Tony could pick it apart for hours. The whole project of making a hyper-realistic prosthesis was an entirely frustrating endeavor. Pepper had pulled him away from its blueprints in the early hours of the morning far too many times.

Tony woke up from his half-asleep state when he heard the floorboards creak from behind him. He smiled to himself, glad he offered for the Parkers to stay the night. Peter shyly came into his field of vision and hovered by the other side of the couch. He was holding a manilla folder carefully close to his chest, as if he was afraid of crushing it.

Tony’s body creaked as he raised himself into a sitting position. “I was hoping I’d get some one on one time with my favorite intern sometime today. What’d you think of the party?” That was another reason he had invited Peter to stay the night: there had been too many people at the party to have a conversation with someone specific for a meaningful amount of time. Peter barely had enough time to say a jaunty season’s greetings to him before getting swept up into something with Rhodey and Carol.

“It was really great, Mr. Stark. It was crazy to see everyone in one place that wasn’t a huge fight.” Tony huffed out a laugh at that.

“Times are a-changin,” he said as he looked out the window to watch the snow for a moment, stewing in his thoughts.

He motioned for Peter to sit next to him. He grabbed a blanket from underneath the coffee table and joined Tony on the couch. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of them basking in the comfortable warmth of the room contrasting against the cool chill from outside. Tony could tell there was something on Peter’s mind. He waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“I uh… Got you something for Christmas,” he finally said.

Tony peered at him through the corner of his eye. “Is it to do with the folder you’re holding?”

“Ha ha,” Peter deadpanned. He adjusted his grip on the manilla folder. “Uh, yeah.”

Tony shifted his position so he was looking directly at Peter and nodded at him to continue.

“It’s not like I could buy you anything, because you’re already a billionaire, so I figured I had to make you something. And it took me a long time to figure out what to make, ‘cause I’m too old to just make you a card.”

“There’s plenty of free space on the fridge if you ever change your mind,” Tony quipped.

Peter just rolled his eyes and continued on. He was barely able to cover up a smile. “Thankfully I’m still young enough I don’t have to worry about getting a present for everyone I know. Trying to figure something out for everyone here would be crazy. I pretty much just got something for you, May, Ned, and MJ.”

“Well, I’m honored. Are you going to keep me in suspense?”

“It isn’t really… normal.” Peter rubbed the corner of the small manilla folder he was holding, on the verge of tearing it open before Tony could even get the chance.

“Kid, I’m a freshly-retired superhero. I’ve learned to appreciate the unusual,” Tony said as he slowly leaned forward, escaping from the fluffed-up couch cushions he was laying in. His arm clicked and whirred and the artificial skin gathered on the inside of the elbow. Peter forced himself to look elsewhere.

“Ok, well… here.” He stuck his arm that was holding the folder out towards Tony stiffly.

Tony took it and slid his hand over the surface for a second before opening it and sliding out the few pieces of paper that are inside.

“Kid…” His voice was thick, but Tony couldn’t decipher which emotion was at the forefront of his own mind.

“I don’t want to offend you, but I had some ideas for your arm.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck as he talks.

“You being smarter than me is never going to offend me.” Tony offered him a warm smile as he flipped through the papers in front of him. There were a few beats of silence as Peter let him look over the designs.

“Hit me, kid. What’re you thinking?” He put the papers on his lap and looked to Peter.

“I- uh, I wrote it all out in the papers.”

“Yeah, I prefer to hear it from the source.”

“Well… I think you want your arm to look like a normal arm, which is great!” He took a deep breath and looked at Tony. “But your main issue is always going to be the uncanny valley. It looks so much like a human arm, but there’s an artificial element to it that will make it seem… weird.” Peter’s voice fell flat when he reached the end of his train of thought. He looked over to see Tony scratching his jawline with his left hand, pointedly keeping his prosthesis still so it wouldn’t make noise.

“Then let’s say I’m one of the most renowned tech geniuses in the world with any materials I need at my disposal, who’s to say I can’t get over the uncanny valley?”

Tony’s tone was challenging without any heat behind it. He was just testing to see how much Peter thought about this. It was like before the Blip, hours spent in the lab going back and forth at a mile a minute trying to work out some bug in the suits. Back when all of their issues could be broken into two parts- finding out what the problem was and solving it.

“I’m sure you could, but at some point…” Peter trailed off.

Tony met Peter’s eyes. He still looked intimidated. If he had a hero complex before the Blip, Tony saving the entire universe only worsened it. He nodded at Peter, hoping his eyes looked kind enough.

Peter cleared his throat. When he spoke again, it was more confident. “Is it worth it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… You can make the most human-like prosthetic, but at the end of the day, you just take it off and go to bed.” Peter’s eyes gained a competitive spark. “Why not lean into the skid?”

Tony looked back down at the blueprints. Maybe he was right. Besides, the kid had style. The arm he designed was clearly based on his suits. It had a red base with gold tracing the joints and a silver stripe from shoulder to wrist. Pretty good for a first draft. In fact, it was a bit too good for a first draft.

“Kid, have you designed Iron Man suits before?”

Tony was half joking, but the way Peter quickly looked away made him bark out a laugh.

“Ned and I were really big fans--” Peter’s explanation was cut off by Tony’s laugh deteriorating into sounding like a tire losing air.

“Lord, kid, that was better than any present you could’ve given me.”

Peter put his head in his hands and Tony leaned over and nudged him with his shoulder. His movement caused his arm to whir and both men flinched. Tony felt the mood shift.

“Can I say something?” Peter asked.

“What’ve we been doing so far?” Tony’s voice was still tinged with playfulness.

“No, I mean…” Peter looked over, the soft light making his face seem even younger. “Can I say something real?”

“Of course, kid.”

“I think the realistic arm is something… normal. But you’re not normal, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughed and rubbed the palm of his right hand with the thumb of his left. “Now I see why Rhodes likes you so much.”

“No I don’t mean--”

He waved Peter off. “I’m messing with you, kid. I know what you mean.”

“Like… You saved the whole universe, so it’s not like you can ever blend in, no matter how many hyper-realistic pores you put on a prosthetic.” Some idle part of Tony’s mind made a note of adding pores to the next design. “You need something new, something that shows how you’ve changed. Not just trying to stay the same as you were before the Blip.”

Tony huffed and stretched his prosthetic out in front of him. Kids Say the Darndest Things, eat your heart out. “Wow, and I thought Brucie was my therapist.”

“What can I say,” Peter said. He looked wryly at Tony. “Dying made me more introspective, I guess.”

Tony groaned. “Maybe wait another couple of years before making jokes, Pete.” He paused, then added, “I appreciate this, kid. Takes a lot of guts to call me out, but it should happen more often.”

Tony put the blueprints back in the folder and set them on the coffee table, mentally making a note to pick them up and move them to the lab in the morning. If he woke up early enough, he could probably get it fitted and put on before breakfast.

“Well, you’re not the only one with surprises tonight, kid,” he said as he grabbed a box from underneath the couch. “Had to keep it safe from prying eyes.”

“Oh, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing big.” He waved a hand non-committedly. “I talked your aunt’s ear off trying to figure out what you wanted. She thought I was joking about getting you an Audi.”

“You didn’t--”

“I didn’t,” he assured. Then he tilted his head and said, “Though all you have to do is ask--”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Hey, I’m kidding.” He mentally switched gears and handed Peter the box. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of all the superheroes, so here.”

Peter took his time with unwrapping the gift, making sure to untie the bow and not tear any of the paper. Tony briefly considered poking fun at him, but the moment was too fragile.

Once he finished unwrapping the paper, there was a photo album left behind. It was bound in a black hardcover and didn’t have any defining characteristics besides a stylized spider design embossed in gold foil onto the lower right corner of the cover. For such an ostentatious guy, Tony was glad he reeled it in for this one.

Peter flipped through its pages and saw pictures of the Blip. Pictures of Tony and Pepper, of Morgan learning to walk, of everything. Eventually he landed on the first page, which was a large print of Tony’s favorite picture of the album.

It was taken only a few months after Thanos snapped. There had been a memorial set up for Spider-Man in Queens. Tony had been walking numbly through old haunts when he saw it. He didn’t know how, but it had been only a few blocks from Peter’s apartment.

The memorial was surrounded by flowers of all types and colors. Drawings of Spider-Man, from childhood scrawls to professional portraits, were taped on the wall surrounding it. Candles were set on every available surface. Where there was no space for more, nightstands had been brought out. There were Sharpies of all colors strewn on the ground around it.

The focal point of the memorial, though, was the wall itself. Someone had written over the white paint of the building in large block letters, “Spider-Man saved me.” Surrounding that, were hundreds of other messages. All from people Spider-Man had affected, describing how he saved them. Tony may have been one of the few left to grieve for Peter Parker, but he was far from the only one grieving for Spider-Man.

“They uh--” Tony tapped the picture of the colorful wall. “They painted over this after a year or so. Figured you should see it.”

Peter traced his finger over some of the writing. “Wow, this is…”

He looked over to Tony. Neither man was crying, but they were both getting dangerously close to being emotional. Thankfully, it was late enough in the night they could blame it on being tired.

“I figured you probably felt a little behind,” Tony started. “Five years behind, really. So I enlisted FRIDAY, along with everyone who wasn’t dusted’s phones, and raided their pictures. There aren’t many good ones early on, but y’know. They get better. We never forgot about you. Any of you, really, but you were… the kid.”

He cleared his throat and pointed at the rest of the photo album. “If you look in the back, there’s a little flash drive that has a rundown of all the tech changes in the past five years, if you’re interested. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll be all caught up by morning.”

Peter flipped through a few more pages and then leaned back into the couch, staring upwards.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

“I can’t look at it for too long. I will cry,” he said to the ceiling.

“Glad you like it.” Tony sighed and leaned back next to Peter. “I was the brains, Pep and Morgan helped me out with the actual ‘asking other people for pictures’ part. You’ll have to include them in any thank you card correspondence.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever written a thank you card in my life.” Peter twisted to his side to look at Tony. “Is that bad?”

“Well, it’s not kill half the universe bad,” Tony admitted.

“I thought no jokes?”

“Eh.” Tony turned his head to meet Peter’s eyes with a smirk. “They’re funnier when I do them.”

“A man who has everything has nothing if he doesn’t have love.”

Tag List: @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch @wellplacedbanana @night0seven @unfathomable-universe @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @spideynamu

#let me know if you wanna be tagged!#i love fic exchanges #but im also bad with timelines haha #art writes #irondad #iron dad #spider-man #spiderman #iron man #marvel #mcu #wooooo #irondadficexchange

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loserholland · 5 years

Text

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟎𝟎𝟑 ➺ 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing ➺ Peter Parker x Reader

Warning ➺ angst, flashbacks (italicized)

Word Count ➺ 4,124

Summary ➺ She always thought he felt the same way, yet I guess she was wrong.

A/N ➺ So sorry for the late update, I’ve had a writers block and changed the song inspo at least four times! I hope you enjoy part three, the longest one yet!

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @taronxfiction @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou @babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos

@themarvelmaniacsworld

@ivegotparticulartaste

@yulisaangelica

@oyoke

@buckloveshisplums

@spideysimpossiblegirl

Song

☞ Masterlist ☜

Maybe I'll forget, maybe I won't I'm stuck in the moment, and so far from home

Los Angeles, California.

City of Angels, second most populated city after New York.

It was a beautiful city, UCLA was about forty-five minutes away from Santa Monica. Depending on how heavy traffic was. Overall, everyday gave her a reason why she had UCLA on her list of college’s, of course she missed her family.

She was 2,790 miles away from home.

It’s been a good five months.

She tried her best to keep him off her mind, to focus on the reason why she came to UCLA. To start new and forget. Yet, how could she forget about someone she’s been friends with for nearly four years? How could you forget about someone who was there for you when no one else was? The person who could bring a smile to your face when you were feeling blue.

(Y/N) chose UCLA to find herself again, she had lost herself in the past year. Not putting her mental health first, not caring for herself. Allowing herself to hurt over and over.

Someone once said, “Don’t ever love someone so much that you forget to love yourself.”

Being away from home, could be a good thing. She had met some new friends and her dorm-mate was someone she could talk to about anything and everything.

Her dorm-mate Vivian, was one of her now closes friend’s. They oddly had the same interest in most things, which why they instantly clicked. The last thing (Y/N) wanted was a dorm-mate who wouldn’t talk to her or be very unorganized with their belongings.

“Yeah, I got everything mom. I’m unpacking now... I haven’t met my dorm-mate yet, yeah I got here first- Okay- I’ll call you later love you, bye.” (Y/N) ended the call placing her phone in her back pocket moving to open some of the boxes she piled onto her bed and desk.

She took the bed on the left, leaving the right empty for whoever she would be sharing the dorm with. Slowly she began to unpack placing photo’s and other small necessities, she picked out photo that was on the bottom on the box. Her heart clenched lightly, she didn’t remember packing this. If anything it might’ve been her mom who put it in the box.

It was a picture of her and Peter, Christmas of sophomore year. (Y/N) had invited May and Peter to christmas dinner, one of her favorite Christmas’ so far. After eating so much, the duo went to (Y/N) room gifting one another what they had gotten each other for Christmas.

“You first.”

(Y/N) handed Peter the small rectangular box, she had repaired an old vintage tudor rolex watch that her father had laying around the apartment.

Peter tugged at the silky red ribbon allowing the material to follow onto his lap, slowly lifting the top of the box to reveal the beautiful watch. (Y/N) bit her lip nervously, Peter hadn’t said anything since he had opened the box. Did he not like it?

“It’s beautiful, thank you (Y/N).”

She sighed in relief slapping his arm playfully, “You scared me!” Peter chuckled lightly before handing his gift to (Y/N), he hoped she would like it. After hours of consulting with May he settled with this gift.

(Y/N) slowly opened the square box, as she removed the top there laid a beautiful gold bracelet with two charms, she stared at it in awe the two charms were her and Peter’s birth month stones.

Peter felt himself falling back from the impact of (Y/N) hug landing with a loud thud causing Mrs.(Y/L/N) to rush over to her daughter’s bedroom, “Is everything okay?” she looked down to see Peter and (Y/N) laughing their asses off and saw it as a great picture opportunity.

They were laying next to one another with their faces towards one another with a huge smile on their face.

Now that pictures sits on her desk.

And the bracelet?

She still wore it on her wrist.

Pushing through the crowded streets of New York was beyond difficult, people will either let you pass them or they’ll just cuss you out. Never the in-between. He was about thirty minutes late to his first class of the day, let’s just say staying up to finish homework and trying to up hold being your ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-man’ was hard.

Peter glanced at his watch the same watch he had gotten from (Y/N).

Usually anytime Peter ran late to certain things (Y/N) would joke about him getting a watch so he could keep track of time. I guess it was kinda like faith? Having the watch laying around her dad’s study and being able to regift it to someone who needed one. Very badly.

(Y/N) paced around her room checking her phone every five seconds for the time. Peter was a two hours late for their study session, again. They had both agreed on meeting at three, and it was currently 5:23. She didn’t want to call him for what felt like the hundredth time, but she was already annoyed.

There was a small knock on her window, she knew who it was even before she turned around. It was the person she had been waiting on, finally he decided to show up. Peter stepped in once (Y/N) lifted the glass of her window, he knew she was mad. She had every right to be.

“(Y/N) I’m-”

He still hadn’t told her he was Spider-man, or how (Y/N) described him as a person swinging around in a really tight onesie.

“Peter it’s fine, maybe someone should just get you a watch. That way you won’t loose track of time.”

The memory played mindlessly causing as Peter rushed through the busy streets, the shout from a guy he had accidentally bumped into caused the memory to come to a pause.

“Watch it kid!”

“Sorry!”

There was a point in time when he did stop using the watch. Thinking there was no use for him to wear it, but ever since he had read (Y/N) letter. It’s been attached to his wrist ever since.

Cause loving nobody, is breaking my heart But you'll never know this, wherever you are

I guess you could say it was stupid of Peter to only now take use of the watch since he last stashed it in his nightstand draw. Ever since he read the letter, I guess he thought back on how he’s been a horrible best friend in the past year.

Maybe using the watch could make him feel better. Bring some sort of peace of mind to make him feel less guilty about cutting ties with someone he was friends with for almost five years.

The day (Y/N) left to Los Angeles, the day she had dropped off the letter. The day Peter realized that he had fucked up. Peter had asked May to bring him to the airport saying “There’s no time to explain, we need to go before it’s too late.”

Peter rushed out of the car before May could even put the car in park watching him run through the automatic doors. He searched the entire area, she couldn’t have gone through TSA just yet, right?

Well maybe I don't give up easily But I know this is hard to see

“Peter?” Aubri, (Y/N) mother questioned walking closer to a very frantic Peter.

“Mrs.(Y/L/N)! Did (Y/N)?”

Aubri pressed her lips into a thin line nodding in silence, he was too late. She had left. As cliché as it sound’s, Peter was hoping to do those dramatic yet romantic airport speech. All he wanted to do was apologize, for being so blind. For ignoring her feelings. For being a fucking dick.

(Y/N) tried.

She tried to go on dates.

The blind dates Vivian would set her up for. Yet it was never a hit or miss, she would always cancel the day before. It just didn’t feel right, it felt wrong for her to go on a date with someone.

There was still that feeling, those feelings. The love she had for Peter, it was still there. She hated that.

Still having feelings for someone who made it clear that they don’t feel the same way. But that’s why there’s such thing as hope, she hoped one day he’ll feel the same way. She hoped one day, he’d look at her the way she looked at him.

Hope can be a dangerous thing.

And I wish time would slow down So I could keep your heart around

The night (Y/N) had found out Peter was Spider-man. How did she find out he was Spider-man? Well when it comes to being a superhero, or a hero in general that comes with fighting the bad guys. Peter, well Spider-man at the time showed up on her fire escape.

At first she thought it was a dream, the person she had said was wearing a really tight onesie that helped keep Queens safe was knocking on her window.

“Spider-man? Are you okay?” (Y/N) helped him through the window placing herself under his left arm to help him to her bed. How in the world did Spider-man choose for her to help him?

“(Y/N).”

Her eyes widened slowly backing away from the man in the tight onesie, how in the living hell did he know her name? The voice sounded so familiar, like she hears it everyday.

“(Y/N).”

She drew closer to him reaching to remove his mask to see it was her best friend. This was either a joke or Peter was actually Spider-man, her best friend was the friendly neighborhood crime fighter.

“Peter! I-Is this a joke?” (Y/N) whispered yelled, she began to examine his face the few cuts and soon to be bruises seemed real a little too real. She felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach regretting what she just questioned him.

“I wish, I-I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t want May to worry.” Peter flinched lightly when she ran her index finger on his fresh cut, Peter was Spider-man and he’s risking his life to help people everyday.

“I’ll get the first aid kit and some water.”

She had cleaned up his cuts that night, the two sat in silence. Slowly she put two and two together, that explain’s why he’s always late and his excuses were way over-used. The Stark internship was Peter being Spider-man and also there was no such thing as a Stark internship because (Y/N) knew she would’ve got it as well.

Her heart swelled with fear. Peter was out there every night looking over the city. He could get hurt and she wouldn’t be there to help him.

“Thank you.” Peter mumbled laying back onto (Y/N) bed, after putting away the first-aid and getting Peter some clothes to sleep in they laid next to one another in awkward silence.

Peter could see the worry in her eyes, he could see how she felt uneasy.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shrugged it off mumbling “It’s nothing let’s just sleep.” but Peter wasn’t satisfied with her answer so he questioned her again, “What’s wrong? I won’t sleep till you tell me.”

She snorted lightly responding “Have fun staying up all night.” he rolled his eyes playfully before sighing, “(Y/N) I know something’s bothering you.” of course she knew he wasn’t going to give up till she admitted what was bothering her.

“It’s just- You’re risking your life Peter. It scares me that one night, you’ll come back with even more bruises and I won’t be able to help you.” She knew that tonight was not a one time thing and from now on he would go to her for help.

Peter placed his hand over her’s giving it a light squeeze of reassurance, “I’ll be okay. I know my limits, I’m just using what I got to good use. I’d never want to put your through what you think I could.”

If I can't make you stay another day I'll wait another day for you

(Y/N) and Vivian were headed to the café hoping some last minute studying could help with their ‘pop’ quiz in two hours. It would be a lie if she said there weren’t any cute boys here. But, she wasn’t there to date anyone, she was there to study and nothing more. I guess you could say that it’s a bit stiff of her, but maybe it’ll change in the years to come.

“Hey (Y/N).”

Vivian excused herself saying she was gonna get another coffee and lemon cake. Great just great.

“Alejandro.”

Alejandro Villanueva aka Alex. The person she had almost every class with, he had been flirting with her for the past four months. Claiming he won’t give up till she went on a date with him, he’s quite determined.

He took Vivian’s seat taking the paper that was once in (Y/N) hand scanning it before handing it back to her, “You don’t need to study. We all know you’re the smartest.” something he’d say all the damn time. Didn’t this kid have football practice or something?

“Hm, shouldn’t you get to football practice? Mr.Hot-shot Villanueva?”

Alex smirked lightly leaning forward with his arms crossed against his chest flexing his muscles lightly, “Maybe, after your pop quiz you could swing by?”

Swing by.

“Hey Pete, could you um swing by? I-I just need someone, I need you.” Swing by was something she always said to Peter, a pun-intended joke. I guess it just seemed right because anytime she’d ask for him to swing by he was always on his spidey duties.

But what always amazed her was how quick he’d come by. Usually she’d leave her window open for him and knew he was there when the window would shut lightly. He could see how much she’s been crying, her eyes were a bit puffy and red.

Peter quickly removed his mask and engulfed her into a tight hug, she sobbed lightly into his chest everything that she was feeling today all the emotions hit all at once. He rubbed her back soothing her and hushing her attempting to calm her down.

“Let me get you some water and advil, we’ll just cuddle okay? If you don’t want to talk about I won’t force you to.”

“(Y/N)?”

She didn’t even realize she faze out a little, “O-oh! Yeah sorry, um I’ll try.” Alex smiled widely taping his index fingers against the table with glee.

“I’ll see you then!”

For you

Maybe, maybe it was time. Time to let go of her love for Peter. Because as of right now she was just waiting. Waiting for a call or a text that said I miss you. Waiting for a call or a text that said I do feel the same way. She was wasting her time waiting, along with waiting she held onto the last strand of hope.

You know you’ve got it bad when you miss something you never had. At least for a little while, I was the reason behind your smile.

Maybe I'm love drunk, I wish that I'da know What you would say if time would slow down

Hey, I know it’s been a while but how are you?

Delete

Hey, how have you been?

Delete

How’s NYU? Just as imagined?

Delete

“Fuck.” (Y/N) mumbled staring at her dimly lit phone screen, she’s been attempting to write out some sort of message for the past five minutes. Vivian was out for the night so she wasn’t there to stop her.

I know if you read this message, you may not text me back. I hope you’re doing okay and I hope you’re doing well in NYU. I honestly don’t know why I’m texting you, I think it’s just because I miss you. I miss you more than words can explain to be quite honest. I just miss us Peter, our friendship. I hate that I still hold on to this last strand of hope that one day, you’ll feel the same. One day you’ll look at me the way I look at you. Maybe one day, a girl can only hope for so much.

Peter heard his phone chime, he pushed his chair back to grab his phone from the bed to check who had messaged him.

Need help, come over.

Sent from Ned

(Y/N) pressed on the arrow watching as it slowly sent but quickly put her plane on airplane mode watching as the text read as not delivered sighing in such relief she deleted the message.

So I could keep your heart around If I can't make you stay another day

It’s been a while since they got to sit down, hangout, and talk. So Ned took this opportunity for them to have somewhat of a boy’s night while building the lego Millennium Falcon.

“So, have you spoken to (Y/N)?” Ned questioned glancing over at the directions then moved to collect the pieces needed. Ned had somewhat of an idea of what happened between the two, he just knew something lead to them not talking.

“Not since graduation.. when did you last speak with her?”

“Yesterday.”

(Y/N) and Ned were good friends too, she call to check in on him and called him if she needed help with homework and such. Sometimes she’d ask how Peter was, but it got him wondering why the two haven’t spoken to one another.

“What happened to you two anyway?”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, placing what he had already built onto the floor. Ned was also his other best friend, he had to tell him. He had to tell someone, he had all this built up emotion about not talking to (Y/N). He missed her, more than he thinks.

“You what?”

“I-”

“So, after she confessed her feelings for you. You two became strangers?”

But they both stopped talking to one another. They just passed one another without saying another word. It worked both ways.

“I can’t believe you didn’t see how much she liked you Peter. When you asked Liz to be your date to hoco, she was beyond heart broken and also why she didn’t go. It’s the little thing’s that make a big difference.”

(Y/N) walked out of the cafe with her coffee in hand, today was a chill day with no classes and since she had missed the last practice Alex invited her to watch she’s making up for it by going today.

There were loud grunts and shouts coming from the field, she immediately spotted Alex giving him a small wave taking a seat on the bleachers. This was more of a friendly support, she was there because she had told him she’d try.

After about thirty minutes Alex jogged up the bleachers taking a seat next to her, “Hi.” he said breathlessly, don’t get me wrong. Alex was handsome and was quite fit. She could see why so many girls drooled over him and would get easily flustered around him.

“Hi, I um sorry I didn’t make it to the last practice.” (Y/N) spoke as a sudden gust of wind swept past them causing her hair to fly in her face. She scrunched her nose at the thought of how crazy she looked right now.

Alex brushed the hair that flew in her face behind her ear, “You don’t have to apologize. Thank you for coming, how was I?” (Y/N) shrugged he’s pretty good, she understood why many colleges fought to have him go to their school.

“You were okay.”

He bumped her shoulder lightly causing her to laugh, “You were great.” she answered truthfully causing Alex to smile widely. He liked her, he really truly did like (Y/N). She wasn’t the type to try and hook up with him just because he was a football player, hell she didn’t even know who he was when she got to campus.

“Do you maybe want to, hangout at Santa Monica tomorrow? If you aren’t busy.”

(Y/N) stared at him blankly, did he just ask her? On a date? Was it a date? This could just be two friends hanging out.

“Are you asking me out on a date Villanueva?”

Alex kept his gaze to his lap, she could see the slight red tint on his cheeks unsure if that was from being out in the hit too long or because he was flustered.

“If you want it to be.”

(Y/N) smiled standing from her seat, “Come by at 5 sharp. Don’t be late.”

I'll wait another day for you Well maybe I don't give up easily

Peter had Mj over for dinner, May thought it would be good to have company over. So he had Mj was in his room while he helped May with dinner. What he forgot about was how he left the envelope a top his nightstand, so when he went to check on Mj she had already read it.

“Hey, dinner should be ready in ten.”

Mj held the letter in-between her index and middle finger, “You stopped talking to (Y/N) because she had feelings for you?”

But I know this is hard to see now

Peter stared blankly at Mj, that wasn’t the first time he heard that question. Ned said the exact same thing and said “How do you not know?” when Peter said “I don’t know.”

“Um, I-I don’t know we just stopped talking. It was both parties.”

Mj pressed her lips into a thin line placing the letter back onto the nightstand, “Peter, do you have feelings for (Y/N)?” the moment that question left her lips his brows pinched in confusion.

“No, I don’t.” he answered with a shrug.

Yeah that was a lie.

“Peter, you’re just lying to yourself. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You look at her with more love than you think.”

You look at her with more love than you think.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way like you did before. Honestly, when you told me you liked me too. I was beyond surprised because I thought it was always going to be you and (Y/N).”

He took a seat next to her, there was this uneasy feeling. His emotions were all over the place right now. Questioning if he did have feelings for (Y/N), if that might explain why he missed her more than he should. How he wanted to take back the nights where they’d just cuddle.

“If we’re breaking up right now, I’ll be the one to do it. But, we can still be friends. Peter as much as it sucks for me to say, I knew what you felt for me wasn’t 100% there. I could see how you’d look at (Y/N), hoping she’d look too. You love her more than just a friend.”

But I know time won't slow down So I can't keep your heart in my hand

He laid in bed that night, processing everything Mj had said.

“You love her more than you think.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe he did have feelings for (Y/N). Maybe it wasn’t too late to confess his feelings for her.

Those nights where they laid next to one another and how he’d admire how the moonlight kissed her kiss, how beautiful she looked on days she didn’t think she was. How she’d crinkle her nose in annoyance.

“It’s the little things that make a big difference.”

But maybe if you stay a little while You might feel like I do

(Y/N) fixed her outfit one last time twirling around the mirror. This was the first time in a while she had this giddy third grade crush feeling. Vivian was beyond excited for her, she was finally putting her happiness first.

She had been jamming out to some Queen and good ol classic 70′s music, for once she was content and happy with life. Maybe this was a sign, a sign that she was ready to let go of what she felt for Peter.

Slowly over the past five months she began to let go of the memories. All the time they spent together. She was unsure about letting go but now it felt right.

There was a light knock on the door, that was either Alex or Vivian. She leaned towards it being Vivian because she was infamous for forgetting her dorm keys and would constantly wake (Y/N) up to open the door.

“Viv! How many times have I told you? Don’t forget your keys.”

She unlocked the door twisting on the doorknob opening it to see it wasn’t Vivian. Nor was it Alex.

For you

“Peter?”

All the memories of you came flooding back.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #loserholland

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ronaldmrashid · 7 years

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How To Prepare For World War III: Survival And Money Advice

Once the first dirty bomb detonates in San Francisco, fake news king Mark Zuckerberg has 700 acres of Kauai lands to retreat to (as soon as he gets done suing the native Hawaiians out of their ancestral lands). Mark’s plan to build a wall all along his property to keep the locals out is smart because you know they’ll pound the shit out of him at first sight.

Even Mark’s buddy, Facebook board member and early investor, Peter Thiel has a private jet gassed up and waiting to fly his family and friends to the most expensive place in the world, New Zealand, if World War III ensues. Ah, how nice it is to be a billionaire!

But what about the rest of us poor saps who can’t afford to pillage indigenous people or cough up $20,000 an hour for a 12-hour Gulfstream 650 flight to New Zealand? Are we commoners screwed? Heck no! We must stand our ground and fight for our freedom as the ungodly rich flee. If we are to emerge victorious, then we can rebuild our own empires and permanently ban those cowards who left us when we needed their resources the most.

Preparing For World War III

Let’s hope we have peace on Earth or at least peace in a protected America. International unrest seems to be rising to new heights. But just in case the world goes to hell, here are some things I’m planning on doing and so should you.

1) Be as fit as I was in high school. Now is the time to stop making excuses about physical fitness. At 5’10” and ~168 lbs, I’m overweight according to my doctor and all online research. I used to tell myself that because I play so much tennis, my quads and calves are so much bigger and heavier than the average person. But I know this is bullshit because I was a cut 150 – 155 lbs in high school and my legs were just as big.

It’s important to be as lean as possible when you’re chasing down an intruder or running away from an angry mob. I plan to make sure I can run three consecutive miles in 18 minutes or less because I’m only about two miles away from the ocean where I can take cover among the sea people. Make sure you are fit enough to run non-stop to your closest safe zone!

Here are two weight charts to see if you’re a healthy weight. If you’re not, then at least make sure you can complete the distance and time requirements.

Ideal Weight Chart For Men

Ideal Weight Chart For Women

2) Reinforce my secret room. Do you remember watching Wes Craven’s 1991 film, The People Under The Stairs? It’s as good as watching The Exorcist as a kid. Nightmares galore! You’ll learn from the movie that everybody should build a secret room where nobody can find them. Your secret room should have electrical outlets for a mini fridge, microwave, router, CCTV, laptop, and cell phone. You should be able to live in your secret room for at least a month to let any sort of nuclear radiation thin out a little. If your enemy is camped outside, the longer you can hold out, the higher the chance for survival as they move on to their next victims.

Don’t forget to build a ventilation system and reinforce the entry way with steel rebar. The biggest risk to a secret room is that it gets discovered. Your enemies could smoke or burn you out, so consider having some type of anti-fire device, and definitely keep several oxygen masks as well.

Scare your intruders to hell!

A wonderful panic room 13 feet below the ground with private keycard access.

An efficient secret room that can house 6 uncomfortably

Ventilation is huge in case your enemies plan to smoke you out

Probably the best secret room entrance in the world

3) Train in hand-to-hand combat and firearms. Now is the time to watch every single Youtube video there is about how to use a knife and a gun. Take classes in hand-to-hand combat as well. Focus on chopping the person’s throat, elbowing the solar plex, and kneeing the groin. If you can grab a hold of your assailants pink, bend it backwards until it snaps.

I studied martial arts for years growing up in Asia so don’t f with me intruders! Time for everyone to brush up and get fierce!

4) Create an A-team. If it’s just you and your family, it’s going to be a little harder to survive the war compared to a hoard of 60 heavily armed people. For example, nobody is stopping Negam in The Walking Dead, even though all he has is a baseball bat. In order to build a team, you’ve got to make a pact before anything happens. That means reaching out to your nearby friends and sharing your contingency plan with them. Maybe they’ll think you’re crazy, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

You don’t want to be that dumb ass who connects over LinkedIn or sends an e-mail out of the blue when you just lost your job or want something. You need to be maintaining relationships long before something bad happens!

If your house gets overrun, you need to be able to flee to a friend’s place. I have one friend who lives 2.5 miles away who has already built a panic room with a 6-inch reinforced steel door. The importance of being fit enough to run nonstop to your closest ally cannot be underestimated.

5) Set up a proprietary communication system. If either my wife or I am ever captured, we have a secret code word we will use if ever we get to speak again. A lot of times captives are forced to speak under duress (e.g., gun to head, knife to throat), hence, if for some reason I can’t detect the worry in her voice, she’ll use one of several secret words to signal her true situation. We also have a secret place to leave a message on the internet. In the event that all electronic communication is lost, we will leave little clues in the real world.

Finally, I will leave clues on Financial Samurai about my whereabouts. The clues will be on the homepage somewhere on the sidebar or in the footer.

Resistance is not futile!

If World War III Doesn’t Happen, What To Invest?

The chance of WWIII is pretty low, but it’s a good idea to prepare anyway. In the more likely event that our global politicians just play chicken with our lives, here are the financial moves I’ll be more eager to make.

1) Worst case scenario: hoard real assets. Money means nothing during a world war because governments will proceed to crank up the printing press to fund their army, thereby causing inflation. Sometimes there’s hyperinflation, as in the case with Germany post World War I.

Post World War I, the German mark fell from 4.2 marks to 8.91 marks per dollar. But paying for war reparations caused an economic collapse with the exchange rate rising to 4,200,000,000,000 marks per dollar by the end of 1923. The rate of inflation was 3,250,000% per month! By mid-1923 workers were being paid as often as three times a day. As soon as the workers got paid, they’d rush to buy some goods before their cash became worthless.

Real assets to consider hoarding include property, gold, silver, copper, oil, steel, cars (yes, even cars), weapons, watches, canned food and shoes. Depending on how bad things get, you want to own all the assets that money needs to buy for you to live a comfortable life. Since cash becomes useless, it’s important to have real things to barter with.

Kids piling up bricks of cash in Germany due to hyper-inflation

The minimalist who rents and owns nothing will be screwed. S/he will be a slave to the asset lords.

Related: The Inflation Interest Rate Paradox: Why You Must Continuously Invest

2) Bad scenario: buy the most sovereign bonds possible. If things don’t get too bad (no hyperinflation), then consider buying bonds from the country you think will come out a winner. At least buy bonds in a country that you believe will pay back its debt. The most sovereign country is usually the United States because we have the biggest army, the deepest financial system, and a world currency.

During the 2008-2009 financial crisis, the U.S. dollar gained against the world because the world found relative sanctuary in U.S. assets even though many Americans were freaking out about whether they’d have a job the next week! Remember, everything is relative when it comes to investing.

If the Chrysler building in Manhattan blows up tomorrow, stocks will tank and Treasury bonds will surge as investors flee riskier assets. Emerging markets will probably sell off harder than the S&P 500 as well. Don’t forget the fear of contagion that wrecked the Asian economies in 1997.

I’ve been personally loading up on municipal bonds after the 10-year bond yield hit 2.5%. It’s my way of building a hedge and earning a 3%+ tax-free yield.

3) Uncertain scenario: hoard cash. If we’re just going through temporary uncertainty before we clearly know the devil, then it’s best not to take excess risk. Most politicians are rational, therefore, they can’t go crazy with their policies out of fear they’ll be overthrown.

Hoarding cash is the easiest and most logical move to make during times of uncertainty. Paying down debt without fully paying off debt is the wrong move because liquidity is most valuable during times of uncertainty. The more liquid you are, the more choices you have.

After making relatively aggressive investments in real estate crowdsourcing and municipal bonds since the end of November 2016, I’m back to prioritizing cash. I’ll still try and invest at least $20,000 a month in various instruments if my income is willing, but every dollar after that will now be hoarded until another panic event happens e.g. Brexit.

Sleep With One Eye Open

If the world is coming to an end, your number one goal is to survive until the chaos clears. Think long and hard about what you’d do in case a dirty bomb goes off in your city. Nothing so calamitous will probably happen, but that’s what most people thought before WWII began!

Readers, what are you doing to prepare for a potential World War III? Do you find the latest political rhetoric concerning? Or do you think the people will rise up to overthrow a government if the government goes too far? What are you doing with your money?

from http://www.financialsamurai.com/how-to-prepare-for-world-war-iii-survival-and-money-advice/

#Financial Samurai

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