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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

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fbgm (fuck bitches get money)

pike jj x reader (plus: cody and tyler)

five times you text cody and tyler plus one time they text you

this is the origin story of you meeting cody and tyler + getting to know them, all taking place over the span of freshman year

(warnings: cursing)

One

You and JJ had been in the library for over 12 hours and were running on coffee and protein bars. He was laying on his back, laptop on his chest, asleep, and you were on your stomach, flipping through your highlighted notes to find the exact quote you wanted to use in your paper.

His stomach growled loudly and jolted him awake with a groan. Shoving his laptop to the side, JJ stretched before saying, “We need actual food. I can call some friends to bring us some Jimmy John’s if you’re down.”

“Fuck, that sounds fantastic right now.”

“Sweet. I’ll add you to our group message and you can send your order.”

Your body went cold for a second, “Wait, what? Why can’t I just type in your phone.”

“I need to look at the menu, just send them yourself.”

Mouth gaping for a few seconds, you protested, “I don’t know your friends. Isn’t that weird?”

“Nah, they’re cool dudes,” he reassured just as texts starting pouring onto your screen.

Maybank who the fuck is this number

Oh is it the hot girl from your English class. Right on dude

Dumbass she can fucking see this.

JJ we can just add whoever we want whenever now

Shut the fuck up and be nice, you’re the reason we don’t have any girl friends

Speak for yourself dickhead

JJ gave you an apologetic smile and said, “Well, at least you can order your food now.”

You sighed and typed your order out, thumb hesitating over the send button. Looking over at him, you asked, “Can you send something first, I feel weird.”

He gave you a look, “Dude, just send it.” So you did.

When the boys showed up thirty minutes later with the food, you could’ve kissed one of them from how hungry you were. The taller one dropped down next to you and held his fist up, “Nice to meet you officially, I’m Cody.”

You bumped it and the other guy handed you the food, “I’m Tyler, your savior, because Cody managed to misread your order, but I made sure they got it right.”

“Nice to meet you guys, thanks for the food.”

You thought they’d leave, but they stayed, fucking around on their phones for a while until JJ got up to leave. They all bid you goodbye and Cody winked, “Text me anytime.”

Two

JJ was driving the two of you to a basketball game and he swore under his breath. You looked up from your phone as he dug through his wallet. After a few seconds, the light turned green, and he told you, “Hey, text Cody and Tyler and tell them to bring me my Student ID please.”

“You text them,” you said, not really wanting to. You’d had the message on mute because they sent a lot, and you never had anything to add, so you left it alone. You didn’t really want to open it and see what they’d been talking about.

He gave you an exasperated look at the next red light, “I’m driving, plus you have their numbers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know them.”

“And whose fault is that? That’s why were all going to hang out at the game.”

You sighed and sent it, not happily by any means.

Can someone grab JJ’s ID out of his booksack

Sure thing, tell him he owes me a milkshake for having to climb the fucking stairs

His phone lit up and he nodded, “See, not so bad was it?”

JJ told you Tyler was a huge basketball fan (specifically the Sixers), and he had Opinions on your school’s team. He bounced over to you when they parked next to JJ, “I hear you’re a basketball girl.”

“Something like that,” you huffed out a laugh.

“Look, neither of those chumps respect it, and I need you to know that we will be doing March Madness brackets this year.”

“Brackets are fun,” you agreed, “can’t wait to wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh, you’re looking to get beat, huh?”

“I never lose,” you told him confidently.

He smirked, “We’ll see about that one. I don’t know who you’ve been playing, but you’ve got competition this year.”

The game was fun. Normally you’d have sat next to JJ, but Tyler let you sit on the end and sat on the other side. He talked your ear off about player stats and made jokes about the other players which had you laughing hard enough to get JJ’s attention. JJ leaned around Tyler to ask, “You good over there?”

“Better than Notre Dame, that’s for damn sure.”

“Oh shit!” Tyler said, giving you a fist bump. JJ winked at you and you felt a lot better after the game, finally feeling like you could get to know at least one of those guys.

The next basketball game you went to was with Tyler. He wanted to go see the Duke versus UNC game, and the two of you got there early waiting in line with your student ID’s to get a bracelet and get in. Tyler was wearing a t-shirt with “In Zion We Trust” written across the chest, and he was Hyped.

“Take a picture with me so I can put it on twitter. I need Zion to follow me before he gets drafted.”

You agreed with a laugh and he handed his phone to the person standing behind y’all to take the picture. It came out nice. He smiled at it, “Sweet. Now I’ve got the pretty girl trap to get that athlete follow. You’re a great wingman.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned.

He smiled, “Feels good to have a basketball friend. We’re going to have to drive to Charlotte when the Sixers come to town.”

Three

You slumped over on your bed and JJ looked over at you, “What’s wrong now?”

“I’m fucked. This stupid fucking theatre class. I didn’t buy the book and now I need it and I don’t know anyone in that class and I can’t afford it all in one sitting.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows, “Wait, Intro to Theatre?”

“Yeah, do you have the book?” you asked hopefully.

He shook his head, “No, sorry, but isn’t Cody in your class?”

“What?”

“Yeah, if it’s Tuesday and Thursday at 9:30 Cody is in that class.”

You searched your memory, trying to remember seeing him at any point in the semester. He could’ve definitely set at the top and you wouldn’t know because you always sat about halfway up, not wanting to climb all those stairs to the top of the auditorium.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him there.”

JJ snorted, “Okay well I never said he actually went to class. Text him though, because I’m sure he’d be down split textbook costs and just share the e-book.”

“Can you do it?”

“You’re an adult. Plus, you’ve sent stuff in the group, I thought you were okay now?”

“I was drunk!”

“Text the group if you aren’t comfortable enough to text Cody separately. Your grade is more important than your strange aversion to texting my friends.”

You rolled your eyes, but he was right.

Cody are you in theatre 161 on Tuesday and Thursday morning?

Yeah ugh pls don’t bring it up

Did you get the textbook?

Okay I guess we’re bringing it up…no I did not

We have questions from the end of chapter 5 due online, do you wanna just split the book for the rest of the semester? Rent it online or something?

Wait we have homework in that class

JJ laughed loudly where he was reading the conversation next to you and you sighed, trying to not throw your phone across the room. You looked at JJ, “Your friends are idiots.”

“Careful, bud, you sound a little fond.”

We have homework every week and a quiz every other week…

Oh fuck, you think it’s too late for me to come back from this?

I think there’s a bonus essay for 30 points which might help some?

Let’s split the book.

Venmo me.

You rented the book and sent him a link before settling down to do your own homework, and you felt better about reaching out if you needed homework help again.

It didn’t really come up between the two of you again until he texted you one Wednesday afternoon out of the blue asking what night you were going to see Arcadia for class. You had a ticket for the Friday night showing, and after about 30 minutes, he texted you again that he’d cancelled his plans and gotten one too.

The two of you met for dinner and walked to the theater near the caf together. He was talkative, “I did some research on this play and I actually read the chapter on how to take notes on plays, so I have my tiny notebook and I’m ready.”

“I saw Arcadia with my sister a while back, so I kind of know what’s going on, and I can help if you need,” you said, holding your own tiny notebook.

“For sure. Might should get together to write our papers, that’s going to be what fucks me. If you don’t mind meeting tomorrow at 11, I’ll bring coffee and we’ll knock it out.”

“Sounds great.”

You weren’t sure how good of a theatre buddy Cody was going to be, but you clearly underestimated him. He laughed at the right time, turned his phone off and not just on silent, and didn’t even get up once besides during intermission.

Cody walked you back to your dorm at midnight, when it finally ended, and before you could get inside called out, “Text me your coffee order for tomorrow, I’ll run by Dunkin.”

Four

JJ said he might be at his dorm when you got there, but when you texted him to come let you up, you got no answer. After pacing a few minutes outside, you decided it was too cold for that shit, so you bit the bullet and texted in the group.

I’m supposed to meet JJ, can anyone let me in the dorm?

It didn’t take long for someone to get back to you. Tyler responded after a few seconds.

Fuck dude, are you outside? I’m coming down.

You were practically shivering when he shoved the door open, and he pulled you inside. The RA sitting at the desk didn’t even look up when the two of you passed and he shook his head, “Man, where the fuck is Maybank?”

“Not sure, was going to ask you the same question.”

Tyler swiped to unlock the door and you saw Cody coming out of the toilet area. He brightened, “Yo, long time no see. What are you doing here?”

“Supposed to be hanging out with JJ tonight,” you muttered, checking your phone again.

Cody shrugged, “Come watch Great British Baking Show with me and Tyler. We have popcorn.”

It was warm and you liked GBBS, so you nodded and kicked your shoes off to follow them into their room. JJ didn’t get back for another hour, and by the time he got there, the three of you had ordered pizzas, started another episode, and were laying on Cody’s bed which was closest to the TV.

JJ stood in the doorway, “What’s going on guys?”

“Where have you been?” Tyler asked, tone accusatory.

“I-“ JJ was caught off guard, “got some dinner with friends.”

“Good thing we ordered pizza then,” you laughed, not too upset that he’d forgotten. JJ had the tendency to do shit like that.

“Fuck,” JJ sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

“All good. Glad your roommates are ten times more clutch than you.”

JJ rolled his eyes as the other boys preened and held their fists out for you to bump.

Five

Changing a flat tire isn’t that hard. Changing a flat tire and realizing halfway through that you don’t have a spare is hard. You could’ve fucking cried looking at the empty compartment that the spare usually sat, and you almost did, but last minute pulled your phone out to text the boys.

Anyone free for the next like 45 minutes to an hour to take me to get a spare tire

Before you could send anything else.

Jk we’ll come get you

So, you decided to sit on the curb and wait. Tyler’s truck pulled up and you hopped up, grabbing your wallet and keys. Cody hopped out the other side, put the tire in the tailgate, and climbed in the back, leaving the front open for you.

Tyler cranked up the music as soon as you shut the door and tore out of the parking lot before you could even buckle up. You thought Cody was being nice letting you get the passenger seat, but you later found out he just wanted to sit behind Tyler because, “The driver always protects his side first.”

You held on to the door as he whipped into the AutoZone parking lot and got out of the car as fast as possible as soon as he parked. Cody was laughing as you sagged against the car, head spinning, and he clapped a hand down on your shoulder, “Bet you wish you’d have just taken an uber.”

“I wish JJ had answered my text.”

Cody and Tyler followed you into the store to ask someone to repair your tire. Tyler leaned against the counter next to you and Cody scrolled through something on his phone while you talked to the guy who clearly wasn’t taking you very seriously.

You huffed, getting Tyler’s attention, and he looked up from his hands, “What’s up?”

Before you could say anything, the man cut in, “I don’t think she knows what she wants.”

Tyler furrowed his eyebrows and nudged Cody before responding, “What do you mean?”

“She just needs to get a new tire.”

“We brought the tire, just look at it because she thinks it can be repaired,” Tyler defended, crossing his arms.

Cody moved to stand on the other side of you, “Why can’t you just look at it?”

“If you buy a new tire, we’ll send someone back to your car with you to put it on.”

“I can put it on myself,” you responded indignantly.

Tyler squeezed your shoulder, “I can’t change a tire, but she can. Show some respect and just give her what she’s asking for, man.”

The worker rolled his eyes but did as Tyler said, and your heart swelled a little bit with fondness at these two guys who you didn’t know all that well standing up for you. Throwing your arms over their shoulders, you squeezed them closer, “My heroes.”

Cody shrugged, “Now we know who to call if we need a tire changed.”

Plus One

You slept in one Saturday, finally happy to be through with a busy week, and when you woke up had over 50 texts from Cody and Tyler asking to come to their dorm to help them make a cake for JJ’s birthday. Cody was the last to text, so you responded to him.

Give me like ten mins to get dressed and I’ll come to your dorm.

Oh thank fuck you’re alive!

I wasn’t dead, I’m just tired.

Wake up sweetheart, busy day today

The boys had a recipe and the ingredients all spread out when you got there and the three of you took control of the dorm building’s kitchen on the first floor. Tyler pulled up some music and sat on the counter, content to watch you and Cody do the work.

It went relatively smoothly. Cody almost fucked it up by grabbing the salt instead of the sugar, and the tablespoon instead of the teaspoon, but you got it in the oven without too much extra struggle. Tyler made grabby hands at one of the spoons and you rolled your eyes but handed it to him anyway.

“Thanks, you’re the best. Better than Maybank,” Tyler told you before licking the spoon.

“I know I’m the best, but thanks for reminding me.”

Cody made a noise, “Oh, we’ve been discussing group chat names and we’ve narrowed it down to a few. It’s your pick.”

“Lay ‘em on me,” you told them, moving to sit on the cabinet next to Tyler.

“Fuck bitches get money, AutoZone annihilators, and Greek gods.”

“Oh my god, Greek gods? Think much of yourself, do you?” you asked between laughs.

Tyler rolled his eyes, “You know we mean because Greek life.”

“I know, but still. I like fuck bitches get money.”

Cody cheered, “Fuck yeah, my choice!” and changed the name immediately.

The timer went off and Cody reached down to pull the cake out. Tyler gathered up all the utensils and ingredients and followed Cody out of the kitchen. He cheered, “Come on bitches, let’s go wake up the princess!”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #frat!jj #pike!jj #outer banks #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic

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caffeinatedwasteland · 3 years

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Campus Memories (part 1)

Notes: Hi! I’ve never written on Tumblr before but I’m hoping someone might enjoy my series that I’m starting. This is only part one so there’s not gonna be much romance or anything yet, just an introduction to our reader and the first boy we meet.

Word count: 1495 words

Looking back on the day, it really wasn’t anything special funny enough, just a few bumps in the road along the way. Overall just a normal day of work at Coffee Cart, the café itself wasn’t overly fancy looking, but had a warm atmosphere inside. More well-known for our extensive types of coffee beans, assortment of drinks and freshly made baked goods than anything else. I emerged from the backroom where I had been on my break, making my way over to cover who was next while tying my apron behind my back. I take up the drink station, taking over making the café au lait that had just been ordered and grabbing the to-go cup. I’ve never really understood why the owner had chosen this symbol for the logo, the face looking a bit off to me. But whenever questioned on it she would always reply “I see myself in it somehow.” She's a bit weird but I respect her since she is very passionate about coffee and her shop. As odd as she may seem to others she is very kind.

I’m taken out of my thoughts when I place the cup on the ledge and get a “Thank you” from the man waiting, and look over to see what drink to make next and notice the man standing at the till is still deciding. The man in question looks quite confused as he stares up at our menu boards, occasionally he glances from the boards to my coworker waiting for his order, his green eyes appearing slightly panicked. He doesn’t seem like the typical type of customers we get here, given he is wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans with his longer brunette hair pulled into what looks like a hastily done up bun. I hear him give a small sigh before moving his right hand to scratch nervously behind his neck “Uh, would I be able to get a” he pauses to look up, I’m assuming he’s seeing if we have any fancy names for our sizing, his expression looks relieved when he looks back down and continues “medium coffee, with two milk and two sugars, to go please.” I hear his order and turn back to the machines in front of me and start making his coffee as he pays and moves over to the counter to wait. As I go to place the coffee in front of him I clear my throat for him to look up from his phone and grab his cup. He gives me a soft “Thanks” as he moves over to sit by the window, I find myself drawn to him for some reason. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight reflects off his verdant eyes highlighting the different hues within them.

I turned back to the station in front of me, not wanting to freak him out by staring at him, continuing to make the orders that were placed after him. The cafe’s line had started to slow down by the time my other coworker had returned from their break, so I decided to go out and wipe down the tables various customers had been sitting at. I pick up one of the clothes and a spray bottle and place them into one of the bussing trays and make my way towards one of the tables in the corner to wipe it down and take away the dirty plates and cups, slowly making my way around the café. Occasionally I stop to bring the tray back into the kitchen to place the plates and mugs into the sink and throw out any empty paper cups that were left behind. I head back out to wipe down the last few tables without anything on them or customers sitting around them, finding myself at the table right behind the brunette man next to the window. I notice him occasionally looking up from his phone to glance outside or towards the door. He must be waiting for someone, I wonder who he’s waiting for.

He is rather good looking so he could be waiting for a date, considering this doesn’t seem like his type of place to go to whoever it is must’ve chosen the location. I take my time wiping down the table behind him, closing the blinds next to the window by the table slightly, considering the sun shining directly through the window. I glance up at the clock and notice it’s now two in the afternoon, meaning I only have an hour left on my shift before I can go back home and finish my paper due next week. I take a quick glance back in the man’s direction when I hear him let out what seems like an irritated sigh before he smacks his phone down on the table. He goes to run a hand through his hair before seemingly remembering his hair is tied back and pauses before picking back up his phone and moving it to his ear. I finish tending to the table I was at as I hear his irritated voice to whoever he had called “Seriously Zeke? You told me to meet you here, and now you say I have to meet up at your classroom. I was already on campus before I headed over here! Now I have to head over to the damn science building.” He lets out another angry sigh and hurriedly starts to gather his belongings that he had tossed on the table like his keys and wallet.

I see him take a sip from his cup before I turn to bring the cloth and spray bottle back with me behind the counter, making my way past his table before I feel something or I should say someone smack into my side and almost knock me off of my feet. He places his hands onto my sides to grab me before I fall over, so I only slightly stumble backwards and drop the spray bottle. After he steadied me he opened his mouth to say “Uh, sorry I didn’t see you there, are you alright?” I nod my head slowly a bit dazed after him bumping into me “Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry about it” I smile slightly, noticing the panicked look in his eyes begin to disappear. “Okay, cool. Sorry again.” He nervously chuckled as he released his hold on me, rubbing the back of his neck before looking to the side. I watch as he gives me an awkward smile before moving to throw out his cup and hurrying outside the door, signaled by the little chime hanging on it.

I bend down to pick up the spray bottle I had dropped and notice a wallet next to it, he must’ve dropped it when he bumped into me. I picked it up along with the bottle and shoved the bottle under my arm, remembering him mentioning campus on the phone with whoever “Zeke” was, maybe he went to the same university as me? He must have since this café is a few blocks away from the main building. I made my way behind the counter to place the spray bottle back in its proper place before opening the wallet. I looked over the pockets of the wallet to see if there’s any form of ID in it to make sure it was his wallet. Noticing a card the same colour as my own school ID I pull it up slightly to see the name of the university along the top, so he does go to the same university I do. That makes things a little easier for me, I glance down to see his name “Eren Jaeger.”

He looked as uninterested in his photo as he did when he first entered the café, seeming to not have cared how he looked in the photo. His hair is down making me wonder if they made him have it like that or if he chose to. I look up when I hear my name be called out by my supervisor, raising a brow I call back “Yes?” Heading towards them, wallet still in hand I begin to move it to my apron pocket. “It’s already five after three, your shift is over for the day.” I glance up at the clock when they finish speaking, feeling my face heat up slightly. I returned my gaze to them “Oh, sorry. I’ll be heading out now.” I head over to where the aprons sit on a hook and remove mine, not forgetting to take Eren’s wallet out of my pocket. He had mentioned the science building when he was on the phone, maybe I can catch him if I head over there now? I unlock my locker in the back room, pulling out my bag and putting on my jacket. Punching out at the clock I toss my bag over my shoulder and start making my way to the science building to find this “Eren Jaeger.”

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #attack on titan x you #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x y/n #Campus memories #B's writing #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot college au #aot au

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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A Little Time We Can Borrow

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: 11.2k Notes: This is my free space fill for @starkerfestivals summer bingo. I caught the bug for firefighter Tony & got a couple of help little nudges from @goindownshipping to create this little gem. PS Notes: Sorry about the repost - this wasn’t showing up anywhere :[ Warnings: Some NSFW stuff, fire drama, minor character death, slight angst Summary:

Tony decided to be a firefighter to piss his dad off - & fell in love with the career. Now, a fire chief in Sarasota, Tony's life is bound to change when a handsome pastry chef is in the business of looking cute and making black smoke billow from his ovens.

Or: the one where Tony Stark looks great in his uniform and Peter comes up with excuses to get him to his shop, Truffles.

Read on AO3 here

At the beginning, firefighting seemed like the best way to piss his father off. Tony hadn’t ever been able to please the man, so he figured his career field of choice would be the most self-serving if it also got under his father’s skin. Desperate to get out of New York, Tony took the scholarship University of Florida gave him and pursued fire science with zero hesitation. He wanted to be doing things and in the action for the rest of his life.

Tony’s advanced intelligence made getting through the program easy – he took as many hours as he could to finish up in 2.5 years, instead of four. Finishing out the rest of that 3rd year, Tony took the classes necessary to get into nursing school and entered into it the very next fall semester. The training was fast paced and filled with lots of interesting skills that he couldn’t wait to take with him to whatever fire house he ended up in.

After graduating nursing school, Tony took his medical expertise one step further by getting an advanced EMT certification. By the time he applied to get into the academy, Tony was more than prepared to take on anything that came that way.

His exemplary skills followed him into the academy – Tony surprised no one by finishing at the top of his class. Aside from the bragging rights, top spot earned him his choice of assignment. Enjoying Florida so much, Tony decided to head to Sarasota and take the medic/driver position he’d been excited to try and pursue since he got into the academy.

The job was fast paced and though he didn’t do any actual firefighting inside the buildings, Tony was always busy out on calls. He was the first line of medical care if fire was the first to arrive on the scene. Between his men that were always coming out of a job with some sort of injury and the people that were on the scene, Tony got his wish; action came at him from all angles and from every direction. It fueled his fire – the irony of that not lost on him every time he thought it. Putting his head down and doing everything he could to go against his father ended up being the best decision he could have ever made.

As the years passed, Tony started to move up the ranks. He didn’t try and shift his position in the truck or take on more responsibility in terms of the fire management – instead, he provided leadership in the way he kept everyone calm, collected, and focused on whatever plan they were trying to execute. The knowledge Tony kept in his brain came in handy all of the time – knowing shit made it so much easier to think on the fly.

10 years on the job came and went with the big promotion to fire chief. At 36, he was very young to find himself in a position like that. Yet, the guys in station 501 were behind Tony 100% - most of them grew up in the firehouse with him, and if they didn’t, they quickly learned that he was the guy to go to when in trouble or out of ideas. Tony didn’t have to worry about having children ever, the guys in the firehouse were the only kids he’d ever need.

In all of his time working for the ladder, Tony hadn’t been dumbstruck by any of the people they came in contact with. One of the demands of the job included keeping a level head and being subjective – which meant mooning over gorgeous men with flour on their cheeks during a call was not optimal.

It all started earlier that day when Tony first stepped foot in the station. He’d been on his 3 day turn around and was eager to get into his office and catch up on all the comings and goings during his time away. He barely managed to get his jacket off before the horn was blaring – the early morning calls always ones that made his skin prickle a bit; most of the world had no business being up before 9AM. The worst things always happened in the mornings.

The heart pumping process of getting into his garb and pulling the truck out of the station never got old – flicking on the sirens, Tony got into the zone and got them to Truffle as quickly as they could. In the back of his mind, Tony recalled looking at the new bakery on the corner the day before – his phone ringing and pulling his attention away was the only reason why he didn’t walk across the street and check it out. Heading in that direction, Tony felt a bit like karma was coming out to play.

Getting there, Tony noticed that the building wasn’t visibly on fire – that simple fact one that always made the call seem a little less terror inducing. Despite having been on the job for more than 10 years, Tony still got scared shitless every single time he got in the truck to answer a call. It was half the fun – the activation of his fight or flight reflexes. Putting the truck in park against the side of the building, Tony climbed out of the cab and signaled for the rest of the guys to climb down and start prepping the truck for the unfortunate need of the hose.

A very disgruntled looking employee opened the door for him – her hair was everywhere around her face, a wild look in her eye. “Thank god you’re here,” she said in the form of a greeting. Her steps were quick as she led him into the kitchen – the smell of something burning immediately hitting his nose.

“What’s the problem?” Tony questioned, his eyes roaming around the kitchen in an attempt to find the source of the smell and billowing black smoke. Instead, he laid eyes on someone that immediately took his breath away.

The man had dark curly hair that was streaked through with auburn highlights. There was the smallest stud in his nose and the visible parts of his arms were completely covered in tattoos – the chef whites really highlighting the color of them. Tony couldn’t make out what they were, but they were bright and seemed to be pretty consistent in terms of a color scheme all the way up.

The handsome stranger’s eyes met his, a redness settling in the circle of his cheeks that wasn’t there before. “This was my first time attempting to use the ovens. I turned them on, and they immediately started to smoke. It doesn’t look like anything is actually on fire – the smoke just keeps billowing every time I open up the oven door.”

Tony took his helmet off and put it on the counter, the immediate threat of a roaring fire no longer his first worry. Grabbing the walkie on his shoulder, Tony gave the guys the all clear. “No hoses needed, fellas.”

He took the handful of steps over to the over and pulled open the door. The smoke was black and coming quickly from the back of the oven. “Is this new?” Tony asked, his hands shutting the oven before he could breathe in anymore of the chemical smelling smoke.

Turning around, Tony was surprised to find the man staring at him blankly. “I don’t know – I just got access to the space a few days ago. I set up the front of the house before I even thought about getting baked goods in the display cases. We’re not set to open for another couple of days.” His initial thought was relief over the fact that he didn’t miss anything when he got pulled away from his attempt to walk inside. He did his best to push that away – business was the first priority; it was straight to the facts.

“New industrial ovens like this one need a thing called a burn-in. It gets rid of all the chemical residue that sits on the surface of the new material. Sometimes, there’s remnants of the coating of some of the plastic that catches and causes the billowy smoke like what’s happening right now. You need to open a few windows and let the over run through the process,” Tony finished, his eyes finally meeting the man’s again.

A flour covered hand moved through the dark hair Tony hadn’t been able to look away from. The residue shifted from his fingers to individual strands – he had a couple of white streaks in his hair when he pulled his hand away; and Tony did his best not to notice. It wouldn’t do him any good, reaching out and brushing it away like he wanted to.

“Shit – why didn’t I think of that?” Turning to the woman in the kitchen that originally walked Tony back, the man fired off a couple of instructions, the details he gave her specific and exactly correct. Tony ran his tongue over the back of his teeth to distract himself – he was stuck between wanting to contribute to the conversation and a startling feeling of nervousness that refused to do anything other than settle down within him deeper. Whoever this person was – he had Tony’s attention.

Soon, the man was walking Tony to the front of the bakery, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face. “Sorry to have wasted your time. MJ kept screaming about the smoke – I didn’t know what else to do.”

Resisting a chuckle, Tony put a hand up between them – if this guy only knew the amount of ridiculous calls they got on a daily basis, he wouldn’t be apologizing. “You did the right thing. It would’ve kept smoking at the temperature you had it set. An hour should do the trick,” Tony mumbled. Suddenly, the thought to give him a business card settled in his mind. He kept a small stack in his jacket next to his ID and badge – he knew they’d come in handy eventually.

“Here – this has the line to my office on it. If you ever have any more scares, don’t hesitate to give me a call. I can bring the SUV instead of the whole crew.” Tony held the card between them and almost felt disappointed when their fingers didn’t brush in the hand off. Though, he might not have gotten out the door if they did.

He watched the younger man look down at the card, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, Fire Chief Tony Stark.” The card went into his pocket and then a hand floated between them. “I’m Peter Parker,” he looked up as he spoke, the honey-hazel of his eyes hard to look away from.

Tony didn’t hesitate to take Peter’s hand, his gloves tucked into the middle of his helmet at that point. The long sleeve of his jacket covered their hands for a moment, but Tony didn’t miss the way the world sort of shifted when they touched. Pulling away before he could make an ass of himself, Tony turned back towards the door – he shot Peter a quick smirk over his shoulder.

“Don’t burn anything down, Peter Parker,” Tony added before he opened the door and stepped through it quickly. He was met by Bucky, his second in command, before he could get into the truck.

“That took an awful long time for just a little bit of smoke, boss,” Bucky said, his arm digging into Tony’s side. He let Tony up, but not before he ribbed him about the smile on his face, too. “Chief – looks like the cute baker boy got under your skin.” A hand clapped against Tony’s shoulder as he got settled in his seat behind the wheel. “Put the smile away before the guys see.”

Shaking his head, Tony threw Bucky’s arm off of his shoulder and buckled himself in. “Buck – shut the fuck up,” Tony finally replied, his eyes catching icy blue ones in the big mirror right above him. “You’re not wrong, though.”

Bucky threw his head back in laughter, the heavy helmet on his head crashing to the ground behind him. The rest of the ride was filled with sickening awe sounds and cackling that made his head hurt. It was only fair, though – everyone on the truck got the same treatment when they came walking into the group all goo-goo eyed. That’s what family did.

----

Over the next couple of weeks, Tony got three calls from Peter. The first one was an actual emergency – they didn’t have any fire extinguishers in the entire building. Taking care of it was more like a civic duty than anything else.

The second and third calls – they weren’t nearly as legitimate as the others.

Tony walked in during a busy time of the morning expecting to see something amiss, but Peter was simply standing there with a fresh pastry and a smile on his face. Eye bulging, Tony didn’t know what to think – the professional part of him wanted to reprimand Peter for abusing the privilege. Yet, he found himself smiling widely, instead – his heart throbbed any time he was in Peter’s vicinity; the thought of being able to get mad didn’t really register after letting it stew for a moment.

Peter didn’t have any real time to talk to him, either – he simply gave him the bag and slid an espresso across the counter, the same grin on his face the entire time. It made Tony’s head spin – the shift from scared to overwhelmed was a lot to take in, apparently. Sitting down at a table close to the display case, Tony ate the admittedly delicious pastry and watched Peter go about running through his duties flawlessly.

The apple strudel was so good, Tony grabbed all the rest Peter had in the case before heading out. Maybe the ruthless grief he knew he was going to take from the crew would be soothed a little by the sugary deliciousness. He and Peter shared a smile when Tony pulled the box to him – the same feeling of rightness as before settling between them.

It didn’t dissipate, either – Tony knew the second he heard Peter’s voice on the other side of the line the third time that his excuse of faulty wires in the kitchen was total bull shit. He didn’t hesitate to get up and climb into his SUV, however – at that point, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that Peter got under his skin. The resolve to ask him out got more and more traction the closer he got to Truffle.

The shop wasn’t open anymore, so Tony didn’t attempt to keep up the pretense of it being an official visit. Walking in, Tony was immediately hit by the smell of cinnamon and warm butter – the scents he’d immediately filed under ones associated with Peter. He felt his cheeks heat up a little – he might actually have it pretty bad. No matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Tony forced himself to focus, his eyes roaming around the place. “Mr. Parker?” Tony called out; his voice rich with sarcasm.

“In here,” Tony heard a moment later – the kitchen door swung open without Peter walking through it. Taking that as a sign to enter, Tony was immediately taken off guard when he found himself with an arm full of Peter Parker. He was covered in a flour and cinnamon-butter mixture in the depths of putting together some cinnamon rolls. Tony could smell the sugary goodness from where Peter’s hands rested over his shoulders.

Tony was still in his uniform, the black of his crisp short sleeved button down a direct contrast to the white apron Peter had tied around his hips. He didn’t think about the fact that he probably had a smear of butter and sugar down his back – Peter didn’t give him any time to do anything other than respond to soft lips pressed against his own. Without much thought, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s middle and narrowed the space between them down to nothing.

A simple kiss like the one he was currently tied up in shouldn’t have made his heart pound the way it did – Tony could feel his pulse at his temples, the throb of it just as alive as the connection that leaked out into the air. Peter was just an inch or two shorter than him, so the tilt of their heads was absolutely perfect – Tony’s nose brushed against his when he pulled away from the deep kisses to place light, chaste ones against the baker’s lips.

“This is the best call I’ve ever answered,” Tony muttered, his hands moving to frame Peter’s face. Tony’s thumbs ran along the sharpness of his cheekbones, the ability to touch something he’d been craving since the first time he saw him. His already kiss swollen lips pulling into a light smile – Tony didn’t want to look too eager.

Peter took a step back, a matching smile on his face. “I was going to go insane if I didn’t kiss you. The sneak attack has been my best idea yet,” he replied, his cheeks coloring at his admittance. Looking at his hands, Peter blushed a little harder. “I totally forgot I was baking before you got here. I probably got your uniform all dirty.” The look on his face was a cross between amusement and guilt.

Shaking his head, Tony stepped up and gripped Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leaned forward and gave him another soft kiss. “The department pays for my dry cleaning. It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said, his lips tingling from the touches as he forced himself to actually put some distance between them.

It took a second to get a hold on his courage, Tony hadn’t done something like this in a long time. Sucking in a deep breath, he met Peter’s eyes – light brown pools were fixed on him, looking at him unblinkingly. “Want to go out on a date with me? Not that I don’t love all of the calls,” Tony started, his face breaking into a smile. “We might have more options when I’m off the clock, though. I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun.”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and let a hearty laugh fall from his lips when Peter’s face scrunched up at the look. He felt like a kid again, enjoying the minutes of life passing merely because he could – because, when all was said in done, it felt good to. Peter joined him in laughter, and they spent a few minutes trying to gain control over their very adult, very mature selves.

“I would very much like to go on a date with you,” Peter finally answered after a while, his eyes a little watery still from all of the laughing. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out noisily, Tony watched with interest as Peter tried to collect himself. The roll of his shoulders almost had Tony losing it again, but he managed to keep it in. The way Peter made him feel was indescribable.

“Good – then I’ll pick you up here tomorrow night.”

----

Tony felt nervous the entirety of the next day. Usually, he was counting down the hours until he got his 3 days off – he was definitely excited; but nervous all the same. He talked to Bucky about taking Peter to The Hangout on Siesta Key Beach and groaned when his best friend’s eyes opened widely. “You’re taking the baker boy out? Tony Stark does have it bad!” Bucky exclaimed, the words echoing around the room loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Despite Bucky’s reasoning behind letting the entire firehouse know about his endeavors later that evening, Tony was glad for the distraction. It’d been a slow few days on the call front and they were all getting a little antsy. The ability to make fun of their fire chief made the time pass much quicker.

Before he knew it, Tony was pulling up to Truffle, his heart hammering against his chest for a totally different reason. He looked down at his outfit one more time, suddenly unsure of the black henley and jean combination he picked out. Peter must have seen his car pull up because he was out the door before Tony could second guess himself any longer. Hitting the locks, he grinned when he caught Peter’s attention.

The smell of Peter’s cologne hit him the second the man started to slide into the bench seat of his truck. There were the underlying spices as well as something citrusy – the tang of it made Tony’s mouth water. Leaning over when Peter settled, Tony pressed his lips to a soft cheek. “You look great, Pete,” Tony remarked, his eyes sweeping over his date for the evening.

Pete’s jeans were dark and hugged his legs nicely. The flip-flops on his feet gave way to long toes that were obviously well cared for. Living at the beach brought a certain style to the people that embraced it and Peter was one of them. He wore a black necklace around his neck that had a small pie pendant hanging from it, the crisp blue he wore contrasting nicely. It was a totally different look than the rolled-up chef whites Peter usually donned.

“Thanks! So do you, Tones. I had no idea that firemen could look as good out of the suit as they do in it,” Peter slipped his hand on Tony’s leg as he spoke, his fingers digging in with the last statement.

“Common misconception, I think,” Tony replied, backing out of the parking space. With the gear shift dealt with, Tony scooped up Peter’s hand and held it tightly. Their joint fingers were warm against his thigh. The music wasn’t too loud, so when Tony asked about how the day went for the bakery, conversation flowed easily between them. Peter was open with is words and wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind.

Tony was beaming by the time they made it to the beach. Shifting in his seat a little, Tony brought their joint hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to one of Peter’s knuckles. “I thought we could get a drink and play some cornhole, or something. When you find yourself getting hungry, let me know – I’m making dinner back at my pad when we’re ready.” For whatever reason, he felt the need to explain himself – he wanted the night to go well and couldn’t stop the nervousness from overflowing.

Luckily, Peter was an amazing person and just went with it. They got out of the car and spent a few minutes tracking down a bar tender to get a couple of drinks. Tony stuck with a beer and giggled insanely when Peter ordered a strawberry daquiri; the happiness in his eyes when the bartender put it down in front of him was absolutely adorable.

Making their way over to one of the cornhole pits, Tony let Peter pick his bean bags and took the other set. “You’re not too far out of culinary school or college, right? You know how this is played?” Tony asked, his eyebrows raising when he saw the acceptance of some unknown challenge settle on Peter’s face. He was learning new things about the younger man by the minute – starting with the fact that Peter Parker was very competitive.

“We used to have backyard tournaments all the time when I was a kid,” Peter remarked, his hand flipping the bean bag up and then catching it on its descent. “Want to make this interesting?” Peter spoke again, an evil sort of glint in his eye.

Not one to pass up a challenge himself, Tony nodded, his smile widening. “Cool, then we’re on equal footing. We’ve got a pit in the common area at the firehouse. I would love to make this interesting.” And he did – no matter what Peter threw his way; Tony was probably going to be absolutely excited to be a part of.

Unless, of course, it was baking – Peter’s face took on an amused expression. “If I win, you come learn how to make those cinnamon rolls you’re always mooning over. If you win, I’ll bake whatever you and the crew want for a whole month.” The deal was very one-sided and should have been enough of a clue for Tony to understand that he would not be wining and that the cuteness of Peter Parker was laced with mischief and a sort of excitement that was entirely too addicting.

Instead of running like he should have, Tony took the deal without any hesitation. “Bucky is going to be so stoked – he loves that baklava that you make.”

In the end, Peter kicked his ass – his aim was practically perfect and the amount of cornholes he scored made Tony embarrassed to have even tried to match him. They played 5 games and Peter won every single one of them. While they played, they talked about little things – what kind of food was their favorite, where they traveled, favorite colors. Tony enjoyed every single painstaking second of getting his ass handed to him; Peter was full of life and made it hard for anything else to break through the surface.

“So, I guess I should tell you now that I have no baking skills to speak of. Putting me anywhere near your kitchen with an intention of not burning something is a huge risk, Pete,” Tony said a little later. They were gathered around the small table in his kitchen passing a big bowl of pasta back and forth. As long as he wasn’t using the oven, Tony could put food together – the minute he needed to gauge time and temperature all bets were off. Aside from pissing his dad off, a near fatal interaction with cupcakes as a kid put firefighting in his head to begin with.

Peter reached across the table and gripped his hand tightly. He’d been doing that periodically throughout the meal – his hands were constantly moving, especially when he talked. Yet, Tony wasn’t upset about it for a single second; the restless nature of Peter’s need to move matched with the way Tony’s brain could never shut off.

Done with the food on his plate and able to give Peter more of his attention, Tony laced their fingers together. He didn’t miss the flash of happiness in Peter’s eye, the look one Tony hoped he’d get to be very familiar with. In his adult life, Tony didn’t make a lot of connections like this – he appreciated every aspect of the interesting relationship they were slowly starting to piece together. If he read things correctly, Peter seemed to be throwing himself full body into their interactions, as well – but only time would tell.

“You can cook – that’s at least a little reassuring. The baking process just gets a little more technical than throwing stuff in a pan and hoping it tastes good. I can teach you – how hard could it possibly be?” Peter gave his fingers a squeeze and pulled away to take a long sip of the glass of wine tucked against his plate.

Tony didn’t have any idea, so he didn’t comment. He simply relaxed into his chair and watched Peter enjoy himself. Bucky told him that when he met Steve – things just clicked. There was something inside that just knew. Looking at Peter in that moment, Tony finally understood what he meant. It was too early for thoughts like that – but he felt something settle in him and take hold; Tony wasn’t going anywhere as long as Peter would have him.

With that thought in mind, Tony let Peter help him with the dishes before grabbing the rest of the wine and leading him out to the front room. He spent most of his time out there, so it was pleasantly decked out with a big wide screen TV, multiple gaming platforms, and a deep L-couch that Tony spent more time sleeping on than he cared to admit. Peter’s eyes widened with excitement as he looked around the room.

“This is nerd haven, Tones. On a night that I haven’t beat your ass already, we’ll have to fire up the Switch and play some Super Smash Bros Melee – I used to win so much money as a kid in tournaments playing as Link,” Peter gushed. When Tony settled against one of the edges, Peter snuck under his arm and leaned against his chest, their sides pressed together from shoulder to hip.

Wrapping his arm more firmly around Peter’s shoulder, Tony placed his wine on the table next to him and picked up the remote. He got a movie on the screen, then turned his attention back to the conversation they were having. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Pete. I bet you hustled all the other little kids out of their money no problem,” Tony said, his lips pressing against the side of Peter’s head.

At the affectionate contact, Peter leaned a little further into Tony’s side, his arm wrapping snugly around his waist for good measure. “I didn’t hustle anyone. I just used my superior video game skills to win money that was fairly bet. It’s not my fault that people have always underestimated me.”

Tony let his hand drift up and down Peter’s arm in what he hoped was comforting. He knew exactly what it was like to be underestimated – his father didn’t believe in him a day in his life. Keeping that to himself for now, he simply pulled Peter even closer to him and tucked in to enjoy the fact that they were together and watching Pineapple Express.

The soft snore he felt against his chest half an hour later had Tony grinning – Peter shouldn’t be allowed to get any cuter, but he did and probably wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Shaking him with the hand still resting on his shoulder, Tony managed to wake him up. “Hey, let me take you home – I know you have to open the shop early in the morning,” he whispered, the smile on his face stretching wider at the sleepy look on Peter’s face.

It took a little bit of prodding, but Peter eventually got up and collected himself enough to get into the truck without much of a fuss. He didn’t fall back asleep and spent most of the drive staring over at Tony. He didn’t want to admit that he spent more time looking at Peter than the road – he drove a firetruck for fucks sake. Pulling into the driveway of a small ranch style house, Tony parked the car.

“Can I walk you up?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to the porch at the front of the house. Though he knew the night needed to come to an end, Tony didn’t want it to – especially not before he got to feel Peter’s lips pressed against his own again.

“Sure, Romeo,” Peter replied, the softness of his hand on Tony’s softening the blow of the sharp sarcasms. Tony gave it a squeeze and got out of the car, meeting Peter around the front of his truck. Grabbing his hand again, Tony led him the 20 feet between his headlights and the door.

Peter didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Tony when they got to the door – his fingers played with the soft hairs at the back of his neck for good measure. Tony pulled him in tight and leaned forward, pressing their noses together. “You’re kind of a shit, aren’t you?” Tony asked, his lips skimming Peter’s he spoke.

“Yup, and you like it,” Peter replied before filling the rest of the distance and really kissing Tony. His movements were still a bit choppy from the sleepiness, but the heat of his kiss was more than enough to sweep Tony right off of his feet. Peter pulling away felt like crashing to the ground – his lips already missing the press and pull of the other’s.

“Good night, Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, his body already turning towards the door to get it open.

Taking a step off the porch, Tony grinned – “Night, Peter Parker.”

----

The next couple of weeks passed by like a snap – Tony worked a couple of double shifts to cover for Bucky who went out of town with Steve for their wedding anniversary. He spent as many random moments with Peter as he could, but they weren’t able to get together in much of a formal capacity until Bucky got back. If it weren’t for the dazed look on his friend’s face, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of the door so quickly without a little heckling. Tony owed Peter a little time in his kitchen and planned to pay his due that evening.

Walking into the empty bakery always had Tony taking a deep breath in – he’d never get over the warmth and comfort that immediately wrapped him up the second he took a step inside. Peter was standing at the counter waiting for him, a warm look on his face. “Chief,” Peter greeted him, his hand wrapping around Tony’s shoulder without any prompting.

Tony grinned and turned his head to press a kiss to Peter’s ear. “Chef,” Tony replied as they walked through the heavy door to get into the kitchen. Tony got a quick kiss on the lips – then, an apron hit him in the side of the head.

Like most things, Peter seemed to be playfully specific about his time in the kitchen. He helped Tony tie off his apron, then immediately set him up with a rolling pin. He guided him through the best way to get the dough flat and what sort of thickness they were looking for. The way his fingers tangled up with Tony’s made it hard for him to concentrate on the baked goods – despite being flour covered, Peter’s hands were so soft.

They put an embarrassing amount of butter on the rolled-out dough, then sprinkled a cinnamon and sugar concoction on top. Peter moved behind him and showed him the maneuver to roll up the dough – Tony once again almost completely distracted by the touch of Peter’s hands on him. “You’re distracting as hell, I hope you know that, Pete,” Tony said after they had the dough rolled.

Cutting individual rolls, Peter nodded his head, a cocky smile slipping across his cheeks. “That’s kind of the point, Tones,” Peter admitted, his hands moving in a repetitive motion that was very obviously familiar. “One of the best parts of baking is the freedom of it. You have to make it fun. Touching you is fun.” Peter finished what he was doing and put them into a couple of pans. Tony, in an effort to help, put them in the oven.

Before he could move away, Peter was grabbing his upper arms and walking him back until Tony was pressed against the counter. “Those need about half an hour and then we’ll need to check them. I can think of something that will pass the time, though – if you’re interested.” He leaned in before Tony could even respond, but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be pressed flush against Peter in any way.

It’d been a long time since he spent so much time making out with another human – Tony felt very much like a teenager and appreciated it wholeheartedly. Peter started to thrust his hips against Tony after a while, the hardness that pressed against him was the ultimate tease. Not interested in resisting the urge to reciprocate, Tony broke away from their kiss and let out a deep groan. “You feel amazing,” he babbled, his fingers attempting to make quick work of the button on Peter’s jeans.

Just as he started to make progress, Peter’s alarm for the food in the oven went off. With a sigh, Peter pulled away and stumbled the few steps over to the oven. Tony followed, his body unwilling to be separated from Peter’s, even for the few seconds it would take to open the doors and check on the pastries. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s hips and pulled him close. Tony’s lips started to suck and kiss on the back of his neck.

The heat from the open oven had Tony hiding his face against Peter’s shoulder, his nose pressing into the softness of his shirt there. Peter made quick work of pulling them out and turning the pans – it didn’t seem quick enough, though. Tony moved his hand to the temperature gauge on the side and cranked it up while his other hand turned Peter around when the oven door was finally shut.

Getting lost in Peter’s lips was insanely easy. The idea of getting lost in his pants brought a whole new dimension to what they were doing together. Tony managed to get the button popped and the zipper down without much of a hassle, his fingers grazed over the front of Peter’s boxer briefs without any hesitation.

When the fire alarm started to sound, Tony had Peter’s boxers pulled all the way off his hips and his cock gripped tightly in his fist. Peter tried to do the same for Tony, but only got around to getting his pants undone. Looking up in confusion, Tony let out a sharp gasp when he noticed that actual flames were engulfing the oven. “Holy shit,” Tony stuttered out, his brain still muggy from the haze of arousal. “Get the extinguisher!” Tony yelled, watching as Peter rushed to pull up his pants and run into the office in the kitchen.

Tony got Bucky on the phone as quickly as he could.

“What’s up, Stark? I thought you’d be too caught up in your date by this point of the night,” Bucky said in the way of a greeting. Any other time, Tony would’ve laughed, but he couldn’t – not right then.

“Bucky, grab the keys to my SUV off of my desk and get to Truffle. The oven is on fire.” Tony mumbled the last few words and looked guiltily down at himself, the button on his jeans still undone and everything. “Hurry!” He didn’t give the man a chance to respond – Tony hung up and grabbed the extinguisher from Peter when he came running out with it.

It didn’t take much to get the flaming pans of cinnamon buns under control – they were all ruined, but the oven would still be usable once it got a thorough cleaning; which Tony offered to pay for several times. Calling Bucky wasn’t exactly necessary – it just gave Peter the ability to file a report with his insurance company if push came to shove. Luckily, it didn’t.

Tony, however, was not so lucky – Bucky started to laugh at him from the second he was let into the bakery until he left. He looked at the still undone button on Tony’s pants and the permanent flush on Peter’s cheeks with a knowing expression. The cursory glance that he gave the oven was just to make the pain of his presence even worse than it already was. Tony bit into his lip to stop himself from being a sarcastic asshole. He’d get Bucky back one of these days.

Before he left, Bucky wrapped his arms around them both, a shit eating grin on his face. “We should have learned in this embarrassing collection of events that having sex and cooking cinnamon rolls is not a good mix. Chief, you should know better.” Bucky finished his little lecture with a firm kiss on Tony’s cheek and a soft smack on Peter’s. “Be careful, kids.”

Both Tony and Peter stayed silent until they heard the bell on the front door ring, signaling Bucky’s exit. Tony broke the silence first, his hearty laugh echoing in the otherwise empty kitchen. “That’s probably the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” Tony groaned after a few minutes of letting the hilarity overtake his body. The gasping sounds of Peter laughing right along with him made it all a bit more okay.

“I can’t believe he just gave us a safe sex lecture,” Peter added, his face now completely red. “In my own kitchen!” He put a hand on his chest like he was affronted, which made them both laugh even harder.

Unable to stop himself, Tony wrapped Peter up in a tight hug and let the remnants of his chuckles die down – his nose buried in the man’s skin was more than calming. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have touched anything,” Tony admitted, regret and the slightest bit of guilt apparent in his voice.

Peter shifted until he could palm Tony’s cheeks. Their eyes met, the soft smile he saw on Peter’s face was too much – there were so many emotions just sitting on the surface. “It’s okay, Tony. Life with you is never going to be boring, and I’m way more than okay with that.” Peter rubbed their noses together, then kissed him – the intention behind it very clear.

----

Tony couldn’t decide whether the break they took to take both their cars to his house was a good idea or a terrible one. It gave him a few seconds to clear his head, because Peter consumed him whenever they were together – it was obvious in the way that he almost burned down the bakery he’d been slowly becoming familiar with. It felt miserable to be away from him, though – his fingers ached to feel Peter’s warm skin underneath them. The slightest taste he got back in the kitchen wasn’t nearly enough.

They pulled up right around the same time and hustled into the house through the garage door. Tony didn’t give Peter a chance to do anything other than react, his hands gripped slim hips and tugged him close. Their lips were pressed together before either of them knew it, Tony’s tongue slipped between the seam of Peter’s lips when he gasped at the sensation of being pressed lip to toe.

It took a little bit of fumbling, but Tony managed to walk them through the maze of his kitchen and front room until the backs of Peter’s knees were hitting the edge of his mattress in the master bedroom. Tony broke the kiss and pushed on Peter’s chest, the other man taking the hint and dropping down, crawling until he was up by the pillows in the middle of the bed.

Pulling the soft t-shirt he’d been wearing all night over his head, Tony kicked off his shoes and thumbed off his socks before crawling onto the bed. He methodically took Peter’s clothes from him, too. First the short sleeve button down; then his pants, boxer briefs, and flip-flops all in one move. Tony took a few seconds to enjoy the vision of Peter naked and panting – he couldn’t recall anything so erotic. “You look great spread out on my sheets, Pete. I’ve imagined you here so many times.”

Peter looked up at him with lust blown eyes, his tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip. “Is that so? What, exactly, have you imagined?” Peter got Tony’s button undone and zipper pulled down while he spoke. His hand plunging into the front of blue boxer briefs and gave Tony’s cock a quick squeeze.

His skin tightened, Peter’s touch like a hard press to the gas of his body’s responses. Gooseflesh pebbled over his skin, the battle between fire and icy goodness pulling a moan from his throat. Reaching down, Tony reluctantly grabbed Peter’s hand and worked it out of his pants so he could get them down and off his body. He replaced the hand on his cock and went about running his hands all over Peter’s skin.

“I mostly imagine this – the long lines of your limbs and how the skin gives way to the lean muscle I knew you’d be sporting. You’re under me a lot and sometimes, I’ve got you on your belly and pressed so far into the mattress. It just depends on the mood, honestly – you’ve been in a starring role since we met.” While he described what he thought about, he let his hips start to move in the tight grip Peter had around his cock.

Leaning down, Tony let their lips tangle. He slipped his hand between them and slapped Peter’s away. His fingers wrapped around himself and Peter and started to stroke, instead – the slick from his cock helping the slide of his hand up and then back down. When Peter started to pick his hips up and chase Tony’s touch, he squeezed their lengths together one more time before pulling back. Peter looked up at him desperately, his eyes wide. “You okay?” Peter asked breathlessly.

Tony didn’t answer right away, he gave Peter another swift kiss on the lips, then leaned over to the bedside table to grab the lube and a condom – things were about to get hot and heavy and he didn’t want to have to stop. “I’m good, Pete. Better than,” he finally muttered, a sigh leaving his lips when he was pressed against Peter’s bare skin once again. “How do you want me?”

Peter blinked up at him, his colorfully coated arms rubbing up and down Tony’s sides. “This is good. I don’t need much prep, I want you so bad, Tones.” He gripped Tony’s shoulders and pulled him down, the kiss they got lost in warm and intense – the touch a sweet prelude to what was to come.

In an attempt to finally get some of the friction back against his length, Tony pulled away from Peter’s distracting lips and shifted until he was upright and seated between long, lean legs. Snapping the cap off the top of the lube, Tony poured a large amount into the palm of his hand – he wrapped it around Peter’s erection and gave a couple of slow pulls, spreading the slick around. Peter thrust up into his touch, the vein on the side of his length throbbing against Tony’s fingers.

He forced himself to pull away from Peter’s leaking erection to pour more lube into his hand. Coating his fingers in it, Tony traced the rim of Peter’s hole, the muscle clenching with the tickle-y caress. Tony used his free hand to fist his red cock while his lubed-up fingers traced and pushed until two of them were slipping into Peter’s warm embrace.

Tony didn’t spend much time teasing anything out – he pressed forward slowly until his fingers were fully seated, then pulled back and started a steady rhythm. He kept his thrusts even until he felt the tips of his fingers press against Peter’s prostate – the contact against it pulled a sticky glob of precum from the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck! Tony – that’s fantastic.” Peter tossed his head back and forth, the words coming out of his mouth in loud shouts. “More – I need more. I want you inside of me.”

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Tony pulled his fingers out swiftly and immediately pushed back in with 3 of them. He spread his fingers apart at the rim a couple of times in a desperate last-minute attempt to stretch him. Then, he pulled out completely and reached for the condom he placed carelessly on the comforter. He put the edge of the foil between his teeth and ripped it, a sigh of relief slipping from his lips when his fingers fumbled it out of the package.

Shaky fingers rolled the latex down his hard length, his fingers squeezing at the base when he got there. Closing his eyes, Tony heard the cap of the lube open and fingers that weren’t his own slick him up. He glanced down to see Peter looking at him impatiently, his cheeks beet red and covered in sweat. “Come on – “ Peter gasped out, obviously unable to control himself.

Not needing to be told more than once, Tony guided the head of his cock to Peter’s hole and pressed in, his upper body folding over the man below him. With each thrust forward, Tony got a little further inside, the warm heat enveloping him like a tight glove. His eyes were wide and his breathing erratic – it’d been a long time since he felt something so sweet; and the fact that it was Peter below him made it that much sweeter.

His hips rested against Peter’s ass as he finally bottomed out. Biting down into the skin of Peter’s shoulder, Tony let his hips roll forward, just that slight movement making the heat in his core bubble dangerously close to the rim. He turned his head enough to capture Peter’s lips, Tony drawing his hips back and snapping them forward as their tongues tangled.

The arousal rising between them was tangible – intensity swirled in the room around them. Peter broke away from the kiss to pant out loud breaths and moans; his chest rose and fell against Tony’s in a way that spoke of how good it actually felt. Tony took advantage of Peter’s distraction to sit up and grab his legs, throwing them up over his shoulder. The change in position let Tony slam in a little deeper – the tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every single thrust.

Signs of Peter’s orgasm overcame the younger man’s body progressively. Tony felt his toes curl against his fingers, then saw the rush of blood trail down Peter’s chest. It was a deep red, much like the color of his cock throbbing against the flatness of his stomach. The pearly bead of precum that dripped onto his stomach caught Tony’s eye, his vision focusing on the clear liquid. When Peter actually came apart under him, Tony couldn’t look away – thick ropes of cum covered his stomach.

Rhythmic clenching of Peter’s hole pulled Tony over the edge a thrust later. He managed to drop Peter’s legs down around his hips before falling down over him, his body suddenly heavier than Tony could manage.

Lips against the side of his head pulled him out of the haze a few minutes later – Peter was looking at him with a deep look of satisfaction on his face. Tony grinned up at him – his heart felt light and despite the fatigue that tried to pull him under, he’d never felt better. He managed to shift just enough to pull out, get the condom off and tied, and lay down heavily on Peter’s side. His heavy head rested on Peter’s muscled shoulder and finally, Tony let himself relax.

The next time Tony blinked, he was on his back with Peter tucked under his arm. His skin felt like it’d been wiped clean and the room around them was much darker than it’d been when things first started. Peter’s arm was across his chest and for the first time, he got the chance to look at the tattoos covering the entirety of it. There were a collection of roses wrapping around his forearm and over his bicep and deltoid. All of the free space was covered by cherry blossoms. It was simple and elegant – perfect for the man Tony was starting to know so much about.

Before relaxing back into the pillows, Tony gave Peter’s forehead a soft kiss – a smile slipping across his face as he did. Gripping the tattooed arm resting against him, Tony nestled into the warmth surrounding him and let himself drift back to sleep.

----

For a little while after that, Tony got to live in a state of bliss that shouldn’t have existed. Peter was passionate in all ways – breaking down the wall between them in the physical sense opened the floodgates and pulled them both under. For weeks, whenever they could get a free second to be together, Tony and Peter allowed the hunger to take over.

The guys at the firehouse were quickly accustomed to seeing Peter walk out in the early hours of the morning with a sleepy chief trailing after him for the chance at one more kiss. It quickly got too sickeningly sweet for them to make too much fun of it.

Tony was more than grateful for that – and not just because it got the guys off his back. Peter brought out a different side of him and for the first time, probably ever, Tony had someone else that got him to the very core. With Peter, Tony could be himself.

They were able to live in the fuzziness of the novelty of their relationship for 10 weeks before the reality of Tony’s job came crashing down around them like the scary thing it actually was. He’d been lucky, to have met Peter during a time when things were slow around the station. In the years he’d been working, Tony knew lulls didn’t last for long – and when they came to a grinding halt, there was always something catastrophic to blame.

Getting a call on his day off, Tony immediately knew there was something wrong. Fury, the Captain in charge when he and Bucky weren’t around rarely called him. Even when he was actually needed. Seeing his name on the caller-id had him kissing Peter on the check and excusing himself to the hall of the restaurant they were at. He didn’t miss the concern etched on Peter’s brow – though, the depth of it was not yet understood.

By some sort of weird gut feeling, Peter already knew he had to go when he walked back into the room. He paid the check while Tony was on the phone and was waiting by the door. “I’m sorry, Pete. There’s a multiple building fire and they’re calling everyone in. I have to go,” Tony explained, his thumb hitching over his shoulder like Peter didn’t know Tony’s truck was parked outside. “I’ll come back when I can.”

With a soft kiss and what felt like a desperate hug, Tony was turning on his heel and heading towards the location he’d been given. The enormity of it hit him when he realized how backed up traffic was on his way to get a couple of miles down the road. Pulling up, Tony covered his mouth when he saw the entirety of the brand-new commercial shopping center on fire.

It didn’t take long to find Bucky, who was also in a similar state of civilian dress – they looked at each other with wide eyes, knocked shoulders, and walked into the scene with as much confidence as they could. Aside from the battalion chief that hadn’t been called in, they were the highest ranking on the scene.

Tony didn’t hesitate to move around and get into a suit while collecting all of the facts. They were four trucks deep and pulling as much water as they possibly could. There hadn’t been signs of explosion, but the intensity of the fire meant it had a mind of its own – a change could occur in a heartbeat. Unable to think of anything else he’d need to know, Tony tucked in behind Bucky on their truck’s line.

The fire was too big to recognize all of the signs of the flashover that took the building down and 6 firefighters with it instantly. Tony, who’d been near the front of the building went flying back, landing in a heap not far from the truck. Disoriented, Tony got up and pulled anyone in his path up and off the ground. No matter what – they needed to get the fire under control.

It took another couple of hours and two more buildings falling to the ground to finally get the flames under control. Tony, who’d been dealing with dizziness and nausea since getting off the ground, called in for back up from neighboring stations – they needed manpower and they needed it quick. Falling against the side of the truck when things were finally out of his hands, Tony retched, then slipped down further until he was on the ground.

A panicked look in Bucky’s eyes was the last thing Tony remembered before the blackness of a severe concussion and fatigue overtook him.

Waking up in a hospital bed wasn’t what he expected when he walked onto the scene the night before. Peter and Bucky, both pale with what he could only assume was worry, were staring at him when he blinked awake. The lights in the room were incredibly bright and the figures of his two favorite humans were a little wonky – but, he felt glad to be alive.

“We got it stopped, right? I didn’t punk out before the fun was over?” Tony asked, his voice foreign to his own ears – he sounded loopy, the words slurred a little. Whatever they had him on, it was doing the trick. He felt woozy and without a single ounce of pain.

Peter grabbed his hand and let out a snuffled laugh – for the first time since coming to, Tony could see the tear streaks on Peter’s cheeks. Reaching out to him, he gestured with his fingers for Peter to come closer. In the state he was in, it probably didn’t look coordinated, but his boyfriend came over, anyway. He let out a sigh against Tony’s chest when he pulled him close – the feeling of Peter was the only thing Tony needed in that moment.

“We got it handled, Chief – no worries. There was a lot of damage and we’re… 6 men short; but we stopped it.” Bucky’s voice cut through the little bit of goodness he was feeling – the memory of the blast and the guys they couldn’t get to respond hit him like a bus. 6 good men. Clenching at the hand that he was more than grateful to be holding, Tony let tears he couldn’t control fall.

Without any hesitation, both of the guys in the room wrapped him up in a hug – the sensitivity of his head and body be damned. He felt the sleeve of his hospital gown get more and more wet with tears; the spot Bucky was claiming a total mess when the moment finally broke. Tony clapped a hand against Bucky’s arm a few times in solidarity – the two of them sharing a look.

After a little while of merely existing in the same room together, Bucky got up and moved towards the door. “I’m gonna go home and sleep – now that I know you’re okay, I can stop worrying Steve.” Bucky flashed him a halfhearted smile, the forced nature of it making Tony’s stomach churn a little bit.

It should’ve been a sign – the unease he felt. Yet, Tony was just grateful to be there and have Peter sitting there by his side. That lasted all of ten minutes before Peter was bringing his hand up to his mouth for a lingering kiss – then, he let it go and got up. Tony pinched his eyebrows together – the move making his head ache through the haze of the drugs. “Pete?” Tony mumbled; his body suddenly frozen.

“Tony – I’m glad you’re okay. I needed to make sure you were.” Peter looked at him, the man desperate to portray something in the way he stared at him. Tony didn’t blink – the thought of closing his eyes meant Peter would disappear that much sooner. “I think I need some time to think. I’ve lost so many people in my life – the idea of you being one of them the past twelve hours was a little soul crushing.”

He took a step towards Tony and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please understand. I just need some time.”

Tony tried not to let the sob that shattered him go until he heard the click of the door closing behind him. It was probably the head injury – making him feel like the world titled a bit off its axis at the sight of Peter’s back to him. He suddenly wished for the numb feeling he experienced the first couple of seconds of coming to – at least then the feelings wouldn’t be sitting on his chest, threatening to stomp him into the dirt and keep him there.

----

The doctor kept him in the hospital for another day to make sure they observed his brain function and symptoms fully. Bucky and Steve grabbed him when he was released and plied him with greasy cheeseburgers and fries before dropping him back at his house. He still had a couple of days off, so he bypassed his living room and dropped onto the bed. It smelt like Peter – everything in the place did. Stuffing his face into the pillow that Peter usually slept on, Tony let his tears lull him to sleep.

That went on for about 16 hours – he slept for a while, came to and got lost in the rush of emotions that he couldn’t control, then fell asleep again. A part of him was glad that Peter wasn’t around to see him – he wasn’t stable in any way. Peter deserved much more than that; much more than him.

His inability to sit still for long had him heading back to the station the next day – sitting around his house that was swarming with fresh memories of the person he thought he might really let himself have fully wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It felt more painful than the ache in his head ever could.

He didn’t take into account, however, that 2 of his own guys were taken from them in the horrendous fire that, at that point in his career, was the worst one Tony experienced. The mood around the station was somber and only made the entire body ache that engulfed him so much worse. Funeral service plans were waiting on his desk, the sleek black of the folder finally making the situation real.

In a desperate attempt to find that numbness again, Tony got lost in the mountain of work that he’d been putting off. Between the hands-on part of the job and sneaking off to spend as much time with Peter as he could, Tony let a lot of his duties slack. Now that he didn’t have anything to look forward to, the least he could do was get his work done.

The funeral ceremonies were the following week – seeing everyone dressed in their Class A’s usually made him beam with pride; but it made his heart heavy, instead. Tony made his speeches about Quill and Draxx with as much emotion as he could pull from himself. He stood at the front right of the procession and did his best to bring comfort to anyone that needed it. All the while, Tony found himself falling apart more and more – it was all too much at once.

Making his excuses as early as he could, Tony got back to his house without turning around. He never distanced himself like that from the job that was so important to him. Yet, he found himself unable to give himself to the people that needed that from him – so, he got out and went to hide his tail between his legs in the privacy of his own home.

What he didn’t expect, however, was Peter’s car parked in his driveway, the man leaning against his driver’s side door. Tony tried not to smile, his face a little unsure of the movement pattern, anyway. Seeing the person who’d been on his mind non-stop since he walked out of the hospital room made Tony feel a lot of things. Relief the first among them.

Before getting out of the car, Tony ran his hands over his eyes and down his face. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d be able to wipe the sadness and days’ worth of tears from his face – but it felt good to try. Sinking his hat low on his brow, Tony finally climbed out – the entirety of him feeling on edge.

Peter didn’t wait to approach him, he filled up the space between them and threw his arms around Tony’s shoulders. The touch was too nice to worry about anything else, Tony merely leaned into it – his own hands wrapping around Peter’s waist. Closing his eyes didn’t feel like inviting in a nightmare, so he tilted his head and let his chin rest of Peter’s shoulder. The weight of everything left him; just for a second.

Wordlessly, Tony pulled back and grabbed Peter’s hand. Much like the first time he brought him home, Tony led Peter through the door – only this time, they stopped in the kitchen. Tony let go and went about taking his hat and gloves off, the fancy things getting brushed to the corner of his otherwise empty counter. He didn’t stop moving until the crisp jacket was off his shoulders and slung over one of the chairs pushed into the table.

“Tony, I – “ Peter started. His hands gripped the edge of Tony’s counter, the knuckles turning white.

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, don’t. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. My job is scary and it’s a lot to handle. Even for me,” Tony said, the last couple of words coming out breathlessly. The truth behind them made him want to curl up in a ball. He walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers, instead – anything to distract himself.

Their fingers brushed when Tony handed over the bottle – Peter’s fingers held his purposely, the warmth of his touch scalding, the scorch a delicious pleasure-pain of uncertainty and deep want clutching and not letting go. It felt good – even if it was fleeting; having Peter back at all was enough.

“I was just going to say that you look good – in your uniform. It suits you. You embody it. I didn’t know what I came here to say, to be honest. I just knew that I wanted to be here,” Peter stopped to take a long pull of the beer, his eyebrows arching at the hoppy taste of the IPA. He let silence build up for a moment – their eyes never leaving each other. “I think that’s enough. To be bigger than the worry. Being here, I mean. With you.”

The click of glass on the counter was the last thing Tony remembered before Peter’s lips were on his. He could still taste the beer on Peter’s tongue – the bitterness of it made the slide and press of their lips together that much sweeter. Huffing out a breath through his nose, Tony gripped Peter’s cheeks and tilted his head further, deepening the kiss.

“I need you to be sure, Pete,” Tony whispered after a while, his forehead resting against Peter’s. “You’re it. Don’t let me get used to you if you’re going to disappear.” It was more than he meant to say, but now that it was out there, Tony felt a bit better for it.

Peter grabbed the back of Tony’s arms, the touch soft, his thumb moving over the thin white shirt there. He gave Tony a brief kiss – and then another. “I’m sure, Tony.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #bobbie writes

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pickybearcub · 4 years

Text

Getting to know Spider-boy: Chapter 1

Summary: Ten minutes. Ten minutes was all it took. She found his backpack in the alley and left before he got back. Now, before Peter knows it, Ned thinks he has a secret girlfriend and Spiderman has to be her kibble runner.

Pairings: Peter Parker x OC

Warnings: None

A/N: So, just wanted to try posting my story here. It’s actually already complete on FF.net, but I’m going through it and making a edits, mostly to grammar and some inconsistencies in the story. I’ll post every few days, just to put a little time in between each chapter. Here we go...

Note: Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Chapter 2 Masterlist

Hey mom.

I finally unpacked the last box! So I guess I'm officially moved in. The new place is nice, just like your friend described. It's a little small but more cozy than anything. I really like it. It's really different from the heart of the city. A good kind of different though. I'm looking forward to running at a more normal pace.

I got a part-time job at that café I was telling you about. I'm trying to see where I can get a second job to fill in the gaps.

Glad to hear things are going well over there. Aunt Annie must be glad to have you teaching a few students. Tell me about them when you come around.

Anyway, it's almost time for my shift, so... gotta go. Best of luck to you and everyone there.

Love yah~

Nadia clicked "send" before shutting down her laptop. She pulled her dark hair up into a quick ponytail and slung on her bag while she walked to the door. Locking it, she twirled her keys before shoving them into her bag and jogging to the other end of the hall. She hopped down the stairs two at a time and set a brisk pace to her walk.

The young woman breathed in deeply as she walked through her new neighborhood. Soon, she was passing a few familiar stores and small businesses. A bell gave a cheery jingle as she opened the door to the coffee shop she now worked at.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Morning, dear." An older woman, the owner, greeted from behind the counter. "You're twenty minutes early again."

Huh…

Nadia shrugged, walking around the dining area, starting to set up the chairs. "It's a step up from the half-hour early and waiting for you to arrive and unlock the door."

Hannah gave a light chuckle. "You know you don't need to be so early, though it is nice."

"It's okay. I think I'm still used to all the rushing around I did back home." Nadia lived most of her life in a fast-paced city. Here in Queens, even if it was just ten kilometers away, everything felt calmer. She didn't have to deal with hellish traffic or the morning rush of people on their way to work.

She'd have to learn to adjust and slow down just a little more.

Another bell chimed as she left another shop later that afternoon. A bookstore to be exact. When her shift had ended at three, she'd gone around to explore more of her neighborhood. She got a little carried away browsing through the titles. Especially when more than half the store was filled with used books.

Nadia always thought that secondhand books were more interesting than brand new ones. Some had various marks left from their previous owners. Notes and highlights, dedications, and dog eared pages. Every once in a while, there would be a piece of paper or two stuck between the pages. Most were older and weren't in circulation anymore, which only added to their value even if they were sold at a cheap price.

The dark-haired girl smiled as she walked. She would definitely go by there again so she could actually buy something-

A heavy thump and a huff pulled Nadia from her thoughts, bringing her attention to a familiar young boy who was tugging at two black garbage bags.

"Hey there, Sora." The ten-year-old looked up, grinning when he saw Nadia. The boy's name was really Shaun, she just called him "Sora" because of the game he was currently addicted to.

"Hi, Dia!"

She'd taken a few babysitting jobs when she first arrived in Queens. Shaun had been one of the kids she’d looked after.

"Isn't it your brother's chore to take out the trash?" She walked to him and tried lifting one bag. It was a bit heavy. Definitely a little too big for Shaun to carry on his own.

The boy huffed again, pouting. "He hid my Nintendo again. He said he'd give it back if I took out the trash this time."

Nadia frowned. That wasn't nice.

"I'm at a good part of the game too." Shaun scuffed his shoe on the ground.

The young woman let a gentle smile onto her features before once again grabbing a hold of one bag. "Why don't I take one, and you grab the other. That way, you can get back to your game faster."

"Okay!" The kid grinned and took hold of the smaller bag.

They both carried the bags to the dumpster in the back alley. When the business was done, the boy thanked her and she told him to tell his parents what his brother had done.

Shaun nodded and scampered back out the alley quickly so he could get his handheld back.

Nadia sighed and dusted off her hands on her pants. That boy never listened to her about telling on his brother, Shaun was too nice.

She was about to walk out of the alley when she noticed her shoelaces were untied. Kneeling down to redo them she spotted something by a corner beside the dumpster.

"A backpack?"

She picked it up by the strap and looked it over. It was dark blue, didn't seem very old, and it was relatively clean. Who would throw out a good bag?

But then… it had some weight to it.

Huh…

Nadia hesitated for a moment before she opened it up. There were a few notebooks, a pen, some spare change, and a few pieces of paper.

This wasn't thrown out. Someone owned this.

No. Someone lost this.

Maybe some kid got bullied and the bullies dumped his backpack here.

She slung the strap on her shoulder. She'd check out the stuff more thoroughly when she got home.

Maybe she'd find an ID or something in one of the pockets. It was starting to get dark, so it wasn't logical to leave the bag and hope whoever owned it found it here. Someone else might take it.

Nadia started walking again and thought about what she was having for dinner that night. There was still some pasta leftover from the day before. That would have to do.

**Ten minutes later**

Peter landed nimbly in the alley where he'd left his bag. He let out a breath as he took off his goggles and mask.

Man. The fabric really made for stuffy breathing after a few hours using it-

Oh no…

He looked down at the empty corner of the alley and groaned.

His backpack was gone.

May would ask him how he lost another backpack after just three weeks. He really needed to find somewhere more secure to leave his stuff when he went on patrol.

On the upside, at least he didn't leave any of his Spider-Man stuff in there.

"New backpack, Peter?" Ned said as he put some of his things in his locker. "That's like the second one this month."

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah… Uhmmm… A dog chased after me and kinda ripped it."

"Oh! But you're okay right?" Peter's best friend asked, genuinely concerned. "You didn't get bitten, did you? I heard that you get five shots just in case of rabies. Was the dog foaming at the mouth?" He shuddered at the thought.

"No, Ned." Peter chuckled. His friend could get a little easily agitated or overly enthusiastic when it came to asking questions.

"Oh. Okay. Good then." The two walked side by side to their classroom. "You've been a little distracted lately. Maybe that's why the dog got you…." Ned mused.

"Enough about the dog, Ned. Let's just get to class." Peter sighed and tugged at the straps of his new backpack. He didn't like how he had to keep lying to his friend about certain things.

But his powers….

Being Spider-Man…

Knowing Ned, telling him wasn't really the best idea.

Besides, he was still getting used to his powers himself.

Nadia knew just how difficult and irritating it could be to lose your notebooks, especially when you were a student. Taking notes was difficult as it is. She riffled through the backpack she found to see if there was something with a name.

"Peter Parker…" She mumbled, finding a slightly crumpled quiz paper. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Sitting on a stool on her kitchen island, she lazily poked at the bowl of noodles beside the few papers she'd pulled out.

"Wow…" A breath of admiration escaped her as she found two more quizzes. Math and chemistry. He got A's on all of them. "You are one smart cookie."

She pulled out a notebook. Maybe there was some hint of which school he went to. She didn't want to go through the phonebook to ring up every Parker listed there. Flipping through the pages to find a doodle of a school mascot or a randomly scribbled school name or event, she twirled her fork through the pasta she had been eating.

Decathlon tm meeting – Friday

Band practice moved to Tuesdays

So part of a decathlon team and a band… Group of friends or school band?

There probably weren't many of the schools here in Queens that had a decathlon team, right? Academic or athletic though… Ugh…

There had to be something else…

Nadia had just been about to stick the noodles in her mouth when she reached a few pages near the back.

Her fork dropped from limp fingers right onto the paper with a splat.

"Crap!" She quickly tipped the notebook up to get rid of the pasta. There was now a reddish-orange spaghetti sauce stain on the page. She rushed to grab a napkin to clean up the mess before the sauce seeped to the other pages.

Underneath the blotch of pasta sauce were a few calculations, notes, and diagrams. The top of the page read-

Web fluid 1.2

---

Tags:

Well...Tell me if you want to be tagged X]

#fanfic #fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x oc #oc #original character #friendship #family #getting to know spiderboy #tom holland #marvel #mcu #avengers #homecoming #spiderman #spider-man

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dbhilluminate · 4 years

Text

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 1)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Special Agent Gavin Reed, Director Thomas Falken Word Count: 2,842

Noah crashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in a couple of months, but the mood is spoiled when the Zionist Inquisition shows up to deliver an ultimatum to Vincent Sharp, and issue a threat to anyone who would dare support the installation of an android suburb in Washington, DC.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 9:45 PM

From the outside, the looming auditorium locally known as The Mellon was unchanged. Whatever techno-aesthetics the Capitol had adopted in the last two decades, Washington, DC’s architecture was still mostly the same neoclassical Roman-inspired drivel the Founding Fathers probably thought the height of grandeur that any respectable city could model itself after. This particular building was very much a product of its time- a perfect encapsulation of the stiff right angles, thick brooding columns, and bleak texture-less walls, suggested nothing of what might actually be happening beyond the foyer. The red-green cutout projections of trees and reindeer and ornaments dancing across the Columbia pediment sculpted across its tented promenade and the delicate string instruments currently honoring an orchestral cover of one of a hundred classic Christmas songs was a hint though.

Noah stepped out of the Jaguar to be accosted by a shower of holographic white and blue snowflakes, mixed with the real-life equivalent wafting about that cold winter’s night. They swarmed like his very own plague of too-friendly gnats. Whatever property-wide projection program the event had been accentuated with, the programmer had evidently spent too much time re-watching Frozen as a child. He pulled his sunglasses down just far enough to peer over the lenses as a few flakes fluttered in, close enough for him to see their individual fractals, and gave an irritated huff through his nose. “Still bitter over the demise of Disney, I see.” A few seconds later, the shy valet swept around the roadster’s red taillights and apologized profusely for a near-nonexistent delay in offering to take the car to be parked. Noah felt nothing but amusement at their blathering, patted him on the shoulder and held the door open. “Quit fussing. It’s early yet, and you’ve a lot more rides to tuck in before the night’s over. Treat this one like the queen she is and there’ll be an extra fifty in it for you… Fredrick.”

The kitschy light-show and dear hapless Fred weren’t as bothersome as the front ranks of guards posted at the velvet rope-fenced entrance. The nearest man put up a hand and stopped him in his tracks at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a charity function for contributors only. Have you made a donation?” It seemed only pre-approved guests were being permitted inside- a slight oversight on his part, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from his goal. He had a conversation to close out.

Noah popped his brows and donned a charming smile as he presented the falsified credentials, nestled in a flip-fold ID bearing the name Erwin L. Yvonne, complete with the most abhorrent manipulation of his likeness ever produced. “Not to worry, gents. I’m intimately acquainted with the curator, Mr. Sharp, and I’m here to deliver my contribution in the flesh.” Everything about the little white lie he’d spun on a whim was unnatural to him, but convincing to the two confused humans -poor, overworked and underpaid minions as they probably were- relaying questions into their headsets. After a few moments of conferring with whoever was heading security (most likely the Special Agents in charge of the sting this event was a front for), they motioned him through for a pat-down just beyond the rope. Noah didn’t bother feeling offended at them for only doing as they were instructed, but he did have a little fun making them as uncomfortable as possible as they searched his person for weapons. If his disguise, an old favorite thrown together on such short notice, held up to that much, then the rest would be a cakewalk- not that he had ever harbored a desire to actually go skipping through a fully-stocked dessert table. As fun as it sounded, he had enough messes splashed all over his real name without adding another to the list.

To his relief, the reach of the holographic snowflakes stopped at the door and vanished as he crossed the threshold of the foyer. The marble floor of the lobby had been buffed and waxed to a soft shine, and was still holding up to the foot traffic four hours after the meet’s commencement. Noah only paid enough mind to the guests still loitering about in groups no larger than six people to disinterestedly scan their faces at a glance and assign his background processes the menial task of matching names and dossiers to them. At the moment, he was far too focused on finding the one disguised face among them who was of any real importance to care about much else.

Mr. Vincent Sharp. Or should he say, Gabriel Reed.

The main hall was a wide, cavernous space, with rows of columns standing off to either side. Gold leaf sconced wall lamps provided an accentuating glow compared to the three giant chandeliers of brass and aluminum that bathed the room in ambient light. The dazzling light-show playing outdoors was only outdone by the splendor of one thirty-foot tall balsam fir erected in the center of the floor, adorned with no less than one hundred feet of multicolored string lights, dozens of strands of tinsel, swaths of garland, and a few hundred bauble ornaments. The topper, a white tinsel angel with glittery wings, faced the entrance with its hands pressed together and head bowed as if to thank all who arrived. A few outlying rings of cocktail tables surrounded the roped-off centerpiece. Those guests who weren’t conversing had taken seats to sip champagne or nibble on appetizers while they caught up on their gossip. Each cloth-covered table possessed its own small topper of a larger holographic projection of snowflakes hanging stationary in midair, which constantly shifted from one pattern to the next, spinning like a globe on a stand whenever a curious hand reached out to ‘tap’ them.

A small stage nestled in an alcove against the back of the ballroom hosted a classical band (ruled by one full-size concert piano) who looked as superfluous as the snowflakes that had greeted him outside. They wound through the last chorus of Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire as he descended the staircase, before starting back up with Jingle Bell Rock. Between the cello and violins, Noah’s hypersensitive ear detected at least three strings in need of tightening before he shunted that note aside to take a backseat with the rest of his anxieties. He hadn’t spent two hours biting his knuckles over ever approaching the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium just to show up and critique its acoustic entertainment.

It wasn’t until a few curious eyes had turned his way, nodded and bid him good evening, that Noah realized how entirely inappropriate it was to be wearing sunglasses indoors, much less an event so high-class. The rest of his ensemble was tame enough- a dark navy blue suit bearing pointed lapels and a Zion sigil pin, complimented by a black dress shirt and loafers. The mild dose of glitter effect (same as could be found on the snow outside) projected into his black hair, accented with blue highlights, wasn’t as much of an affront as the pair of Ray Bans. Before anyone could make much of a fuss about it, he pulled them off and stashed the specs in his jacket’s breast pocket; in this kind of crowd, acting appropriate was of the utmost priority. Except when it wasn’t. Off to the left was a fully stocked pop-up bar- heads of the handful of people standing near it were turned away, giving off all manner of unapproachable vibes, including the only familiar silhouette in the room. Noah fought back a smirk when he spotted one particular set of ears before the facial recognition software even kicked in. As much as he would have loved to surprise him with his presence, he knew better than to sneak up on the owner of said ears. The last time he’d done so, Noah had wound up laid out over the fragments of his former coffee table, and he wasn’t eager to experience the cocktail hour equivalent of that encounter.

A half-hearted sweep of the room offered a few other suggestions of anything amiss, and that conclusion was about as dull as dishwater. Noah wasn’t really feeling making a scene with another guest (this event was far too classy for such delinquency), nor was he feeling at all confident enough to steal the mic off its stand and serenade the entire room. But that Christmas tree… it was giving off far too many signals to only be rigged with illumination accents. On his optical spectrum, a cloud of static encircled the poor displaced flora from top to bottom, a few of which were emitting from little lens-capped nodes disguised as burnt-out bulbs along the string. He drifted over casually and leaned in as if to admire his reflection in one of the gold metallic baubles, then carefully reached past the rope to twist and unplug one of the planted camera bulbs like plucking a petal off a flower. The fir gave only a whisper-quiet tink at this attack. The light strand continued to blink and cycle away, regardless of the missing piece. Noah held it up to eye level with a triumphant, yet mischievous grin. He knew exactly who was on the other side of the monitor observing the footage.

And having the most important discussion of the holiday season. On the other end of the feed, tucked away in the off-limits green rooms of the hall, Special Agent Reed was too busy engaging in one of his favorite pastimes of discussing classic action flicks with the unbaptized to notice that one of their cameras was moving. “I’m tellin’ you, man, Die Hard is THE Christmas movie, and if you don’t agree you’re just wrong .” “No way,” a second agent argued, “Bruce Willis himself denied that shit more than twenty years ago…” Reed let out a laugh that bordered on mocking, shook his head, and gestured to the man with one scolding finger lifted off his coffee cup. “John McClane would disagree-“ “Hey! Dumbasses! Stay focused!” Director Thomas Falken -who had insisted on overseeing the sting himself, in the event that something went horribly wrong - barked at the yapping men with a threatening leer that snapped Gavin’s head around and back into focus. On the feed of one of the bulb-cameras, an unrecognizable man rolled the glass node between his fingertips like a gem, and smirked as he held it up to the light. Reed’s brow furrowed in distress as he mumbled “What the fuck…?”, then swiped the walkie off the counter to relay the information. “Gabe.” “What is it, Reed?”

All done up in the swankest cocktail suit anyone would ever see him in, ‘Vincent Sharp’ turned, then leaned with his back against the bar and nursed a drink as he scanned the room through half-framed, squared-off, horn-rimmed glasses. One idle hand reached to throw back the hem of the tweed charcoal gray blazer, exposed the light brown waistcoat hugging his waist and hips, and slipped into the pocket of a pair of perfectly tailored, black slim-legged slacks. “We may have trouble, one of our spycams has been compromised.” Gabe tipped back his head and emptied the glass in his hand to smother the outward reaction of surprise, then set it down on the counter and gestured to the bartender for another. Rather than reach for any of the bottles displayed on the back counter, she went for a decanter on the shelf below the bar and refilled the glass with a burgundy brown liquid- thirium, distilled and dyed to mimic the appearance of Scotch. "Just one?” he asked in a curious tone as he searched the crowd around the tree. From his vantage point, he couldn’t clearly see anyone acting suspiciously. “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing… little shit’s just holdin’ it up and grinnin’ like he knows we’re here…” And that he did. The harsh whisper to emanate over the commandeered camera’s mic said as much:

Good evening, Special Agent Reed. Fancy seeing you here.

From the other side of the room, Gabriel’s head turned a tic at the sound of crashing equipment and a few muttered ‘shit Shit, SHIT’s coming from the other end of the frequency he was currently tuned to. Like a bull in a china shop.

“How does he know you’re here… !?” Falken -known in his social circles as Tomahawk, for good reason- boomed from across the room as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the monitors. He shoved Reed’s chair aside, and scrutinized the face of the man making a mockery of their carefully planted monitoring equipment. Gavin’s heels scraped against the hardwood as he backpedaled and held his hands up in surrender. “I- I- I don’t… I don’t know, I didn’t tell anyone, I swear-” “Then who is THAT?” Falken punctuated with a slam of his palm against the monitor that made everyone in the room jump. “That’s… that’s, uh-...” He could explain that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. No matter how he looked at it, he was to blame for his presence that evening. His negligence had compromised months of careful planning.

“...Gavin?” His target rose from a table toward the front of the ballroom and directed his attention toward the bar, leering with the clear intent of starting a conversation. What impeccably bad timing for this to go down. “Reed! Talk to me!”

Gabriel’s intrusion provided him with the convenient excuse he needed to disengage for a moment. One visibly-shaking hand swiped the walkie off the desk and Gavin turned to break away from the glower of Falken’s death-glare long enough to respond to his partner in the field. The other hand ran through his hair with a nervous twitch in his fingers and he glanced over his shoulder as he cleared his throat and swallowed, then mumbled, “It’s-... it’s Noah,” under his breath just loud enough for him to hear.

Gabe’s thought processes came to a screeching halt as his personal life collided with his alias for just a moment. To hear that Noah was in Washington, DC, much less at the Zion Founders Fundraiser, was the last thing he’d expected to hear that evening. As Reed continued to drop curses in the background, Gabe turned to face the bar and flashed a polite, but forced smile at the bartender as she eyed him with nervous sweeps. He didn’t reach for the glass right away as it was set in front of him on a small black napkin. “Please, tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I did…” he muttered internally as a dozen different possibilities for how the night would turn out flashed thumb-nailed pre-constructions across his HUD. But Reed’s uncomfortable sputtering confirmed what he was hoping was just a joke.

“No, you heard me right.” One hand swiped over his face in a downward motion and scratched in frustration at the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave in almost a week and desperately avoided Falken’s infuriated ‘what the fuck’ gestures in the background. “The bastard’s actually here, arrived in DC last night with Hannah and President-Elect Kamski. H-he stopped by the house lookin’ for you, but I told him you were undercover an’couldn’t make an appointment. I told him t’keep his nose outta our shit, but he-” Reed paused and squinted over Falken’s shoulder as Noah slipped the tiny camera into his pocket with a ‘Can you hear me alright in there?’ “Oh, son of a….” “What the hell is he doing…?”

The camera-bulb didn’t act as a walkie. And to their credit, all the personnel Noah could plainly see -now that his recognition software had sorted fact from fiction- didn’t stir, much less blow their cover. He knew without being told what this sting was about, and who it was the FBI were really here to keep tabs on. Perhaps him showing up was akin to being a ‘fly in the ointment’, but as yet he hadn’t done anything other than offend their Christmas tree. He gave the indifferent lens one more wordless glance as he rolled the bulb between his fingers. For a brief moment he considered winking at it, but decided at the last moment to pocket the device instead. Perhaps it’d come in handy elsewhere- for someone who hadn’t been properly equipped for this operation, it was the best he could do on such short notice. Failing that, he could always speak very loudly and deliberately at Gabriel’s collar mic, if he’d let him get close enough. The owner of the ear he recognized from before still hadn’t turned around. Outwardly he didn’t look very distressed. Only the new hunch in his shoulders, invisible to the human eye as it was, said it all. Far be it from him to keep ‘Vincent’ in suspense.

#rk900 #rk1800 #dbhilluminate #noriel #dbhiequilibrium #noah #gabriel

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ladye11e · 6 years

Text

Deception pt 29

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

Tagging @geekgoddess813 @sweet-flash @ermergerd517 @i-wontgivein @imakemyownblog 💕

If anyone else would like a tag, shoot me a dm 😁

Link to the full fic so far is Here.

Your eyes fluttered open and you wiped the sheen of sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand as you sat up steadily, taking several deep breaths to slow the pounding in your chest, as it was beating as if you had just run a marathon.

Glancing around as you tried to push the disturbing images of Achilles' face when he realised you were a traitor out of your mind, you only just noticed that you were alone in the bed. Shuffling out to peek through the curtains and seeing it was still dark outside, you grabbed the dressing gown off the back of the door and plodded out in search of Shay. You spotted him quickly with his back to you at the dining table; engrossed in typing something, so you leant over and kissed him on the cheek, before sitting on the edge of the table next to where he was working.

"There you are. Feeling better?"

"Mmm, much. What are you still doing up?!"

"Still? It's ten o'clock." He stated, weaving his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"Ten? Two whole hours sleep, great."

"No lass, ten on Monday. You've been passed out for over a day."

Your eyes widened as you grabbed his laptop and turned it to you, double checking what he had said as you had never slept for that long in your life. Looking around furiously when it finally sunk in, you went to jump up as your gaze finally landed on your bag, but Shays tightening grip around your middle prevented you from doing so. Cocking your head when he reached around his computer and fumbled about, you took your phone off him slowly when he handed it to you, extremely confused as to why a horde of assassins wasn't banging down the door right now.

"Guessing you're lookin' for this? Gist came over this morning and hacked into the chip, it's turned off now an ya don't need to put in that code. Should be glad I didn't throw it out the window, it's been going off non-stop."

Quickly unlocking it with your thumbprint, you dismissed the seven calls and flicked through the eighteen messages that were on there, grimacing when they were all from Jacob complaining about how Connor was being mean to him, making him exercise and eat green tree things with his dinner, and you needed to get him the hell out of there. You breathed a sigh of relief when you listened to the only voicemail you had, of Altäir sending a mass call to everyone saying that due to the circumstances everyone was allowed two days off to grieve and, were expected back in on Wednesday.

"Hmm, sorry about that. Most of it wasn't even important."

"I was only joking." He chuckled, pulling you down to kiss you gently. "Oh, I forgot to thank you yesterday, for gettin' the boss to give the room back. What did you do to get him to change his mind?"

Flicking through your phone one more time to use it as a distraction while you came up with a good excuse, you tossed it on the table and draped your arms over his shoulders, hoping you had come up with something believable, but would also give you a chance to pry slightly. You didn't want to lie, you even hated yourself for it, but it was better than the alternative.

"Nothing much, just made him realise he was being a complete idiot. Although..."

"Although..??"

Trailing off and furrowing your brow, you scratched your cheek as you contemplated how to word it, without dropping yourself into a spiralling fib.

"I don't know really. I've got the feeling he's hiding something, to use against me if I pissed him off again... I'm not sure though."

"He threatened you?!"

You winced when his arms tightened around you, gritting his teeth and tensing up as if he wanted to run over there and burn the whole building down to the ground.

"Calm down. Not as such, but he heavily suggested that there would be consequences if I made him look like a fool again?"

"I knew it..." He grumbled under his breath, shifting you slightly to the left on his lap so he could pull his computer back in front of him.

"Know what?!"

"Right, promise me you won't get mad."

You looked at him pointedly, as if to say 'well, duh' as he clicked on something several times, which brought up numerous schematics of Templar headquarters, and a particular one of which you slightly recognised as Haythams work office.

"You know what I mean. Remember that pin you wore for our first mission? Well, I had a gut feelin' that I wasn't the only one watching. Then he confirmed my suspicions when he asked me about that drawing you did, before I'd even mentioned it."

Rolling your tongue in your cheek as you could see where this was going, you zoned out; now thinking that more than just Haythams eyeballs would look good on a stick, snapping out of your revengeful plotting and sighing when you realised Shay was still talking.

"When I confronted him about it, he said that the feed went to his computer too so he could have a look for anything that could help us, but it was deleted. I'm sure he recorded it though, cos he keeps bringin' up little details that no one would have noticed unless they watched it more than once. I didn't know, I swear to ya."

"Son of a bitch... Details such as?"

The corner of your mouth curled up when he shuffled about and lowered his gaze to your lap, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue when you booped his nose playfully, making you wonder why he kept getting flustered so quickly recently.

"Aww, you're cute when you're embarrassed. Okay, you don't have to say. But why didn't you tell me about it before now??"

"Cute?! Thanks, I think?" He mumbled, which made your eyes roll and a chuckle erupt. "Didn't say anything because I've got no proof. It's what I've been workin' on the past few days."

Now paying more attention to the screen when he pointed at it, you saw that it wasn't only the floorplans were there, but all of the internal ducting, emergency exits and lifts were highlighted too.

"If he has got anything, it'll be on his work computer, not his personal one upstairs because he was in the middle of that bloody merger thing when all that was happening, and he never left the place. You up for another bit of larceny together lass?"

You grinned wickedly and pulled him to you by the collar of his shirt, kissing him firmly before shuffling around on his knee, so your back was up against his chest.

"Stupid question... So, what's the plan?"

Spending all of the evening formulating a way in and out of Haythams office, you had finally come up with a strategy, and were now stood across the street from Templar headquarters at eight fifteen in the morning. Checking your reflection once more in your compact mirror, you were satisfied enough that even your own mother wouldn't be able to recognise you. You had reached out to one of your contacts Mary Read; who was an expert in disguises, and after being under her skilled hands for several hours, you were now adorning a full latex mask and a somewhat itchy wig, drastically changing your appearance. Knowing that she would have no idea who Shay was, you took him with you (even though he was rather surly about having to wear 'makeup') but as it had taken longer to get him done than yourself and had to leave to finalise a few details, you didn't have a clue what he looked like right now.

Fiddling with your choker that concealed a voice synthesiser as it felt like you were being strangled, you didn't notice that someone was stood behind you until you felt a hand cup your ass. Spinning around quickly and getting ready to punch whoever it was, you suddenly dropped your arm when you looked into the stranger's eyes, recognising them instantly.

"You're late." You scoffed, frowning at the higher pitched voice that came out of your mouth. "Blonde is definitely not your colour either."

Taking a step back to get a better look at Shay, your nose crinkled when you saw he was, well, boring. No distinguishing features at all. His scar had been concealed, and his hair was now sandy ash colour and swept to one side. Most would still find him attractive, but this didn't do anything for you in the slightest. But it wasn't like looks mattered at this moment in time, only that he couldn't be recognised, and Mary had done a fantastic job. On the upside, he was wearing a black suit and tie so that he could take the place of one of the security guards on the upper levels.

"I'll keep that in mind next time I go to the salon love." He joked. "Sorry about the time, Gist took a bit longer than he thought to get these Id's sorted. Here ya go."

Staring at the badge for a moment when he handed it to you, your eyes narrowed as you read the name on it three times, rolling all the despicable things you could do to Christopher when you saw him next around in your head.

"Kandi?! I sound like a freaking stripper! I'm gonna kill him..."

Clipping it to your blouse and slapping his arm when he burst out laughing, you stomped over the road when you saw that the staff were starting to arrive at work, stopping just outside while you waited for Shay to catch up; who was still sniggering at you.

"Oh shut up, Gus. Well, here we go."

Holding your breath as you swiped your card to get through the turnstiles and enter the building, you resisted the urge to smirk when you got through security without any problem and, headed over to the elevators. You were pushed to the back when nearly a dozen other people flooded in, giving you the perfect opportunity to look over the shoulder of the girl in front of you; whose place you would be taking, and sneak a peek at her mobile while she was texting. Taking a phone that Shay slyly handed to you and holding it down by your side, you clicked the screen when you saw that it had paired with her cell, allowing you to clone it.

Flicking through the contacts list quickly, you eventually came across the one you were looking for; stomach-churningly named 'xXhunnibunniXx', and sent a beautifully doctored picture of her kissing a man inside her car. Switching the phone off and slipping it into your bag, you only had to wait several seconds before hers started ringing, pursing your lips when as soon as she answered it, she started becoming hysterical.

"What?! What are you talking about?? I haven't cheated! Sweetie, please... Wait... Listen to me!"

You managed to keep a straight face as she banged on every button on the lift in trying to get out, barging through the doors and pretty much screaming down the phone when they finally opened. Sliding her work card that you had managed to snatch off of her bag into your pocket, all you had to do now, was wait until you got to the top floor.

By the thirty second, there was only four of you left in here, and you were becoming impatient at how long this was taking, huffing when the elevator stopped again at the next level. And as your luck would have it, just as the last two people got off the next person to get on was none other than Haytham, whose eyes immediately widened as he saw you, standing a little too close for comfort directly to your right. Crap crap crappity crap crap! You thought as he kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, and you could literally hear Shay gritting his teeth.

"Are you new? I do not believe we have met. Haytham Kenway."

Not daring to meet his eye just in case, you took his hand when he extended it, managing to muster up a small smile when he squeezed your fingers briefly.

"Kandi. I'm just here to help out, one of your assistants called in with a family emergency? So I've been told."

"I see. Well, I do hope you enjoy working for me. Perhaps we could see, more of each other? Over drinks shall we say?"

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what he was getting at when he leered at you, until you followed his gaze downwards and saw that one of your hold ups had slipped, so the lacy top was now just below the hem of your skirt.

"Oh! Silly me. These damned things just won't stay up! Honey, would you mind?"

Spinning around to face Shay, you hoisted your skirt up and propped your heel up on the waist-high rail next to him, grinning when he slowly ran his hands up your calf and thigh, sliding your stocking into its proper place.

"This is my husband, Gus. He's much better at taking them off of course, but that will have to wait until later. So I'll have to pass on your offer. Thank you anyway."

Shay could barely contain his smirk as you kissed him on the cheek and tugged your skirt back down, wiping your lipstick away with your thumb as Haytham gave him a somewhat surly, but polite nod. You bit back the urge to laugh as he couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough when it finally opened on the second to last floor, leaving you and Shay alone for a moment to sort yourselves out when the doors went to close again; pushing the stop button, so the lift didn't go anywhere.

"Well, that's was, interesting, what made ya say that? You probably shouldn't have done it though, that's not gonna make things any easier for us."

"I know, but I couldn't resist, it was just the first thing that popped in my head. Besides, since when do we ever get to do something as easy as this? Least we can be ourselves, apart from our faces. Suppose that was one way of testing the disguises." You giggled, handing back the phone out of your bag and, taking an earbud and a small, pencil-sized device off of him.

Quickly double checking that all remnants of your makeup were off his face, you exited the lift, Shay going to the right and taking his position at the security desk, with yourself going to left, joining the other two assistants outside Kenways office.

"Who are you?!" The redhead sat at the main desk several feet away from you asked rather abruptly without even looking up, her long nails that were clacking on her keyboard making you wince.

"Kandi. Last minute temp. Why are there three of us for one person?"

"Give it five minutes, and you'll know. You better be good." She huffed.

It didn't even take that long before Charles stomped out of Haythams office with a tower of files in his arms, splitting it in two and dumping a pile on yours, and the rest on the other smaller desk with an evil grin.

"You know the drill. Make sure the new one keeps up."

"Yes, Mr Lee." The redhead chanted miserably, not bothering to glance up from her computer.

Grabbing the topmost file and flipping it open, you groaned as you recognised its contents, which was page after page of minutes from meetings that all needed typing up, in Lee's almost illegible handwriting.

This was going to be a looooong day.

#assassin's creed #assassinscreed #modern au #fanfic #reader insert #shay cormac #haytham kenway #shay cormac x reader #sfw

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whydontwenorway · 7 years

Text

Daniel Seavey - The Leap

Word count: 1042

Summary: You jump on the back of a stranger, who turns out to be quite the good-looking young man.

You were in your bathroom doing your makeup hastily. The time was 1150 AM and you were supposed to meet your best friend, Ryan, 1200 AM at a nearby cafe. Yet you had not gotten dressed or eaten. To say the least, you were late.

For todays makeup you had tried to do a not-to-glam-but-not-to-natural look, and you were fairly happy with the result. The look included a light coverage bb-cream set with powder, a light bronze, concealer, blush, highlighter, lightly done eyebrows and mascara. You were left with a dewy, bronzy look, that complimented the tan you had gotten after being two weeks in Spain.

Just as you finished the last coat of mascara your phone rang. You rushed over to get it. Unsurprisingly the called ID displayed the name Ryan.

“Hi,” you said as you picked up the phone. You tried to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Ello,” Ryan answered, just as cheerful as you. “I am just calling to inform you that i will be slightly late,” he continued. You felt relieved.

“No problem, I am on my way there, but I will just slow down a bit,” you lied. A litte white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Thank you! I will see you in, 10 minutes?”

“Yeah, I can not wait! I have missed you so much!”

“I have missed you to Y/N,”

“See ya,”

This was perfect, now you might actually be “on time”. You had a habit of always coming late. No matter what you did, you could not be on time. Obviously Ryan had suffered from this, so you wanted to impress him by actually being on time this time, or at least he’d think so.

Your rushed to your closet and grabbed a white lace playsuit with a low neckline because you figured it would look amazing with your tan. And you were not wrong. To ad to the look you put on a super cute crystal necklace you had bought in Spain.

You lacked motivation, and time, to make breakfast so you grabbed an apple to go. As soon as your white nikes were on your feet and your purse was over your shoulder you were out the door.

The cafe was only a few minutes away so you decided it would be faster to walk that to wait on the bus. You pulled out your phone and checked the time; 1200.

“Impressive,” you mumbled to yourself. You put the phone down and decided to take a bite of the apple, something you soon were to regret. You had just brushed your teeth. The apple tasted awful. You threw it away instantly.

On cue your stomach growled, reminding you how hungry you actually were. You picked up the pace and soon enough you could see the cafe in the distance.

You started walking even faster, mostly because you were so excited, but also because you were super hungry. As you were inching in on the cafe you saw him. At first you were a bit disappointed he had come before you, but you soon got over it. God it had been to long.

You started running towards him.

“Ryan!!!” you yelled only meters away. Now that you were close enough you decided to leap onto his back. You made the jump, only to regret it milliseconds after. This wasn’t Ryan. Ryan was shorter and more muscular. This person also had darker hair than Ryan. Actually when you thought about it, he and whoever this poor person was, looked nothing alike.

As you hit the guys back you instantly knew this was gonna end badly. You felt the boy’s legs giving in because of the sudden weight of another human being. In the fall you pushed yourself away from the poor guy in an attempt to not land on him. You hit the pavement and you could already feel your cheeks heating up. You were contemplating whether or not to get up or stay down. In the end you figured it would be dumber to stay down.

As you were getting up you could already see the boy on his feet. His face had a confused look, and he actually seemed to have an comedic look on the situation, luckily. Now that you were on your feet you felt your cheeks flaming.

“I am SO sorry! I was meeting my friend, and you were here and I thought you were him, even though you actually don’t even look remotely alike. I am just really, really sorry,” you rambled until the boy stopped you by putting a hand on your shoulder. As he did that you stopped and made eye contact with him for the first time.

WHAT? He was GORGEOUS. He had these intense blue eyes. His jawline was so freaking straight you didn’t need a spirit level. And his smile? He had this super adorable tooth gap.

“Hey! Calm down, please. Honestly it’s fine,” he said calming you while smiling, showing his tooth gap. “I am Daniel,” he introduced himself while putting out a hand. A hand you obviously took.

“I am sorry,” you joked.

Humor was your defense mechanism for when you felt unsafe or unsecure. The boy laughed, again showing his tooth gap.

“You are funny, I like that.” Was he flirting?

“Are you seriously flirting with me after I basically tackled you to the ground,” you asked genuinely confused.

“I guess I am.”

There was an awkward silence. Daniel took out his phone and handed it to you.

“Put your number in here,” he said it more as an command than a question, and to be honest, you were more than happy to.

After putting your number in you handed it back to him.

“Sorry again,“ he laughed at the fact that you had put sorry as your name. "What is your actually name?" Just as you were about to say it Ryan came.

"I have to go, that’s my friend, the one I thought you were. It was nice meeting you Daniel."

"THATS HIM! We do not look anything alike."

"I know” you said making the both of you laugh.

“Goodbye then. It was nice meeting you to Sorry. I will call you.”

#daniel seavey #imagine #fanfic #wdw #whydontwe #daniel seavey imagine #daniel seavey fan fiction #why dont we imagine #why dont we fanfic

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bioniculled · 7 years

Text

Truth or Dare

Davean’s Surprise Party

CT: 8=D< Truth or dare, my love?

TT: >a smooch right on that finger!!!

CT: > oh shit!!!

TT: Dare.

BD: > Oh, this is new. He's also smiling, but not sure precisely why.

CM: getting intense up in here

CT: 8=D< I dare you to de%ribe the life cycle of a drafthorse entirely in canterpretive dance.

BD: > He just fucking laughs at that, all through his nose at first. This is beautiful.

TT: >his eyebrows raise practically off his head

BD: Thank you for that.

PF: Oooh, dancing.

TT: The hell?

TT: How the fuck do I do that?

BD: Be the horse.

CT: 8=D< Use your imagination.

V: > v actually fucking grins. this is going to be great

CT: 8=D< Embody the horse.

CT: 8=D< Let the virility of the majestic hoofbeast flow through you.

BD: Channel...the horse.

CM: > He slams back another drink, leaning against the nearest furniture for leverage.

TT: >dart just looks.... fucking lost...

CM: neigh neigh motherfuckcer

CT: 8=D< Would you prefer truth?

TT: No no I got this, just gimme a second to think about this.

CT: > Dart clearly needs a moment to muster his virility there, so Ichabod gives him a little kiss on the forehead before detangling himself so his BF may take the stage.

CT: > It's okay Dart not everyone can get their virility up on command. BADUM TSS.

TT: > he stands up and moves to the room, his arms crossed with his lips pursed as he gazes at nothing in thought.

TG: > davean just leans on v and snickers, sipping his drink still

BD: > Death just leans forward, wobbling slightly, and watches with a grin. This is going to be fantastic.

TT: .... Someone should put music on if I'm gonna dance.

CT: 8=D< I colt find you some.

BD: I feel that you should be the one to do the honours, or at least have the chance.

TT: Aight whoever pulls up music first is what I'll dance too.

CM: yeah lets get some horse jams

CT: 8=D< I was constructing you a playlist, let me just-

CT: > He made Dart something beautiful according to his tastes.

CT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZr-MefnZWE

PF: > Cover your mouth. Try not to laugh. Fail miserably and let out a yelp of laughter through your fingers.

BD: > He doesn't have the context to truly appreciate it, but he does still burst out laughing. There are tears in his eyes. This is better than he could have imagined.

TG: > Davean is burying his face in Vs hair and laughing. Come on now Dart, its gonna be great.

PF: > Death's laughter is making him laugh harder. He's full out doubled over in wheeze-laughter at this point.

CT: 8=D< I believe in you!

CT: > He believes in his boyfriend and needs pom-poms to cheer him on.

BD: > Death is clapping to the beat...kinda?

CM: you got this

TT: >ok ichabod got him with that song. His matesprit's out to get him, oh no. Laughing, dart just listens to the beat for a moment, getting into it..... and then he starts fucking like.. doing pop and lock kind of dancing, making sure it's.. at least vaguely horse shaped and he even throws in a few very bland *neighs* here and there to emphasize that he is trying to be a horse.

CT: > Ichabod is fucking DELIGHTED

BD: > Death is shrieking with laughter at this point. It's ugly. But he's so happy.

CM: > Ash remains unphased but gives him some applause because that clearly took a lot of effort and he deserves that much.

PF: > Jongkyu is clapping his hands encouragingly, but he looks more like a seal at this point and there are tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

CT: > Ichabod answers with a few enthusiastic whinnies of his own this is the HIGHLIGHT of his month, look at his talented boyfriend facing the challenge head-on!

TG: > Davean is so glad???

TG: to v softly (pls tell me youre recording this too)

V: > considering the phone already up and recording

V: (id never miss out on an opportunity like this)

TT: >keeping at it, he dances until the song ends and grins, taking a bow. After straightening up, he saunters on over to Ichabod and flops down on him.

PF: Encore, encore!

CT: > He is met with a gleeful trill, and a shower of little kisses. Jesus christ guys want some tree for that sap

TT: Haha thanks!

#Action post #parpventures #canterintuitive #torridgravepurge #veopets #phantomfxcker #discworld-death #ask-discworld-death #hypokleptomaniac

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jodyedgarus · 5 years

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Your Guide To The 2019 NCAA Men’s Tournament

The NCAA tournament is finally here! Will we see another No. 16 seed beat a No. 1 seed? Will Gonzaga finally win its first national championship? Will Zion Williamson’s shoe explode again? We can’t tell you exactly what will happen over the next three weeks, but we can help steer you in the right direction when picking your bracket using our March Madness prediction model. You can read about how the system works here, and read on to learn what the model has to say about the top seeds’ fates, dark horses and Cinderellas to watch, and favorites to avoid. Let the madness begin…

East region

Top seed outlook: According to the FiveThirtyEight model, top seed Duke has the best chance of advancing to the Final Four in the entire field (53 percent probability) as well as the best odds of winning the national title (19 percent).

The Blue Devils are led by four soon-to-be first-round draft picks, including Zion Williamson, one of the greatest talents in recent memory. Duke is a walking highlight reel on the offensive end and far stingier on defense than many may realize. This is among Mike Krzyzewski’s most-balanced teams and projects to be his first since 2010 to rank inside the top six in Ken Pomeroy’s adjusted offense and defense metrics. That team won the national title.1

What this team lacks, however, is touch along the perimeter. Duke shoots a ghastly 30.2 percent from beyond the arc, the worst mark among tournament-qualifying teams. In an offensive era increasingly dominated by space and perimeter scoring, the Blue Devils could buck the trend punishing the rim.

On the other side of the region is the winner of the Big Ten conference tournament, Michigan State. As their reward, the No. 2 Spartans have the honor of a potential matchup against the top overall seed in the Elite Eight. Head coach Tom Izzo was none too pleased. The Spartans have been pummeled by injuries but remain one of the most balanced teams in the country, ranking inside the top eight in Pomeroy’s adjusted offense and defense metrics.

Sneaky Final Four pick: No. 4 Virginia Tech. Led by the star pairing of Kerry Blackshear Jr. and Nickeil Alexander-Walker, the Hokies are a balanced squad that ranks among Pomeroy’s Top 25 teams on both offense and defense. Although they’ve lost eight times, only two of those were by double-digits. Virginia Tech also has a not-altogether-unfriendly draw, with extremely winnable opening games against Saint Louis (87 percent) and the Mississippi State-Liberty winner (63 percent) before most likely running into Duke’s juggernaut. We give the Hokies a respectable 25 percent chance against the Blue Devils — and a 54 percent chance against whoever emerges from the bottom of the region if they do manage to knock off Duke.

Don’t bet on: No. 3 LSU. With coach Will Wade embroiled in a pay-for-play scandal and his team probably overvalued as a 3-seed, the Bayou Bengals could be ripe for an upset in this tournament. They ranked only 18th in Pomeroy’s ratings — roughly the quality of a No. 5 seed — thanks in large part to a defense that didn’t even crack the nation’s top 60 in adjusted efficiency. (This showed up in the 51 second-half points they allowed to Florida while losing their first game of the SEC tournament.) Their NCAA path isn’t very easy, either: Yale is no pushover as a No. 14 seed, nor is potential second-round opponent Maryland, and we give the Tigers a mere 26 percent chance of beating Michigan State if the teams meet in the Sweet Sixteen. This is easily the lowest-rated top-three seed in the field.

Cinderella watch: No. 11 Belmont. The East is top-heavy, with Duke and Michigan State soaking up most of the Final Four odds. But the Bruins are an intriguing lower-seeded team because of an impressive offense led by do-everything swingman Dylan Windler. According to Pomeroy, Belmont ranks 20th in the country in adjusted offensive efficiency (and second nationally in raw points per game behind Gonzaga), while Windler was one of only three players nationally to average 20 points and 10 rebounds per game. Although the Bruins do have to win a play-in game against Temple just to make the field of 64 — we give them a 59 percent chance — they would have a very competitive 39 percent probability of upsetting Maryland in the first round and an even better chance against the LSU/Yale winner.

Player to watch: Cassius Winston, Michigan State

Three years ago, zzo said he thought his 6-foot-1 freshman could be Michigan State’s best passer since Magic Johnson. The Spartans’ do-everything point guard — one of the best facilitators in the country — is validating his coach’s comment. Only Murray State’s Ja Morant, a surefire lottery pick in this year’s draft, has a higher assist rate than Winston (46.0 percent). And behind Winston, the Spartans assist on the highest rate of field goals in the country.

The junior also happens to be Izzo’s leading scorer and one of the country’s top perimeter threats, shooting better than 40 percent from beyond the arc. As injuries have relentlessly sapped the Spartans of their on-court production, Winston has elevated his game to compensate. As he put it to The Athletic, “I have to do a lot for my team to win.”

Likeliest first-round upsets: No. 9 Central Florida over No. 8 VCU (47 percent); No. 11 Belmont* over No. 6 Maryland (39 percent); No. 10 Minnesota over No. 7 Louisville (34 percent)

(* Must win play-in game first.)

West region

Top seed outlook: Gonzaga is the best team in the West by a considerable margin, but the Zags, despite reaching the final two years ago, haven’t always performed well under the bright lights of the tournament. Still, Gonzaga has a 70 percent probability of reaching the Elite Eight, according to our model, and the third-best odds of any team to reach the national championship game (26 percent).

Should Gonzaga face Syracuse in the second round, the zone defense of the Orange could give the Bulldogs trouble. This is the best offense Mark Few has had in Spokane, but it may be tested by any of the terrific defenses in the West: Four of the top 15 can be found in this region, including the top two in Texas Tech and Michigan.

Sneaky Final Four pick: No. 4 Florida State. A fixture in the KenPom Top 20 for most of the season, the Seminoles are hoping to build on last season’s tournament run, which saw them come within a 4-point margin of making the Final Four. FSU has a dominant defense (No. 9 in Pomeroy’s ratings) and a balanced roster that saw four players accumulate at least 2.5 win shares. This draw isn’t terrible, either: Vermont isn’t especially difficult as a first-round foe, and Marquette is very beatable (more on that below). No. 1 seeded Gonzaga probably looms after that, and we give FSU a 24 percent chance against the Zags — but the Seminoles would have a 48 percent chance of making the Final Four if they were to pull off the upset.

Don’t bet on: No. 5 Marquette. Teams seeded fifth aren’t usually good bets to make it past the Sweet 16 anyway, but Marquette might be an especially bad pick. According to the FiveThirtyEight power ratings, the Golden Eagles are by far the worst No. 5 seed in the field, and a first-round date with breakout mid-major superstar Ja Morant didn’t do them any favors. Marquette has some star power of its own in junior guard Markus Howard, who ranks sixth in the nation with an average of 25 points per game, but this team lost five of its last six games and has a tough tournament road ahead of it.

Cinderella watch: No. 10 Florida. The Gators may have been one of the final bubble teams to sneak into the field of 68, but they could be poised to do some damage now that they are here. They drew Nevada, a so-so No. 7 seed, in the first round, and we give Florida a 42 percent chance of pulling the upset there. Last year’s national runner-up, Michigan, likely waits in Round 2, and that is a tough matchup (23 percent odds for Florida) — but if the Gators win, they have a 38 percent chance of making the Elite Eight. In a region with a number of good-but-flawed options, Florida looks better than the typical 10-seed.

Player to watch: Brandon Clarke, Gonzaga

The linchpin of the Zags isn’t the consensus lottery pick, nor the two veteran guards who have together started 87 percent of Gonzaga’s games over the past two seasons. It’s Brandon Clarke, a transfer from San Jose State who is in his first active season with the team. He’s perhaps the most underappreciated player in the country.

On a team that typically features a 7-footer protecting the rim, it’s Clarke, at 6-foot-8, who is tasked with protecting the paint this season. Clarke has responded by setting a single-season blocks record and posting the highest block rate of any team under Few.

“If I feel like if I can get a good, quick jump first, I’ll pretty much jump with anybody,” Clarke told me. “I mean, I’ve seen Zion (Williamson) coming down through the lane before on TV, and if I can’t jump at the right time, I probably wouldn’t jump with him, but … I don’t really see myself not jumping with anybody.”

Likeliest first-round upsets: No. 9 Baylor over No. 8 Syracuse (48 percent); No. 10 Florida over No. 7 Nevada (42 percent); No. 12 Murray State over No. 5 Marquette (32 percent)

South region

Top seed outlook: Can No. 1 Virginia exorcise last year’s demons now that the team is at full strength? Our model thinks so. The Cavaliers have a 49 percent probability of cracking the Final Four and a 31 percent probability of reaching what would be the program’s first national title game.

With De’Andre Hunter, who wasn’t on the court last year during UVA’s historic loss to No. 16 Maryland Baltimore County, the Cavaliers have been dominant on both ends — the only team ranking in the top five in Pomeroy’s adjusted offense and defense metrics. Once again, Tony Bennett’s pack line defense is suffocating most every offensive opportunity and successfully turning games into rock fights. But this year’s team is even better on the offensive end and should breeze into the Elite Eight, where it could meet Tennessee. Thanks to Grant Williams and the wonderfully named Admiral Schofield, the No. 2 Volunteers are playing their best basketball in program history. We give them a 22 percent probability of reaching the Final Four.

Sneaky Final Four pick: No. 6 Villanova. Is it “sneaky” to pick the team that’s won two of the past three national titles? Maybe not. But this hasn’t been the same team that coach Jay Wright guided to those championships. After losing a ton of its best players from last year’s title-winning team, the Wildcats had an up-and-down year and lost five of their final eight regular-season Big East games. But they also got hot over the past week, capping off a season in which they still won the Big East regular-season and conference-tournament titles — and still had one of the 20 best offenses in the country according to KenPom (powered by an absurd number of 3-pointers). Our power ratings think they’re the fourth-best team in the South despite being the No. 6 seed, and they have a 39 percent chance of at least making it back to the Sweet 16 for a fifth time in the past six seasons.

Don’t bet on: No. 4 Kansas State. Coach Bruce Weber’s Wildcats nearly made the Final Four last season, but they might find it tougher this time around. K-State has an elite defense (it ranks fourth in the country according to Pomeroy’s ratings), but its offense is prone to struggles — and could be down its second-leading scorer, forward Dean Wade, who missed the team’s Big 12 tournament loss to Iowa State with a foot injury. A brutal draw that gives the Wildcats tough No. 13 seed UC Irvine in the first round, then places them opposite the Wisconsin-Oregon winner in Round 2, could limit their potential to advance deep into a second consecutive tournament.

Cinderella watch: No. 12 Oregon. According to our model, the Ducks have the best Sweet 16 odds (24 percent) of any double-digit seed in the tournament, more than twice that of any other candidate. Oregon struggled to string together wins for most of the regular season, and its chances seemed sunk after 7-foot-2 phenom Bol Bol was lost for the season with a foot injury in January. But the Ducks have rallied to win eight straight games heading into the tournament, including a convincing victory in Saturday’s Pac-12 championship. Oregon fits a similar mold as K-State — great defense with a suspect offense — but that’s telling, given that the Ducks are a 12-seed and the Wildcats are a No. 4. If they meet in the Round of 32, we give Oregon a 47 percent chance at the upset.

Player to watch: Grant Williams, Tennessee

The junior has come a long way from being “just a fat boy with some skill.” Williams, the de facto leader of Rick Barnes’s Volunteers, has bullied the SEC over the past two seasons, collecting two consecutive conference player of the year honors.

The Vols might just feature the best offense of Barnes’s coaching career — and we’re talking about a guy who coached Kevin Durant! Much of that offensive potency can be traced to Williams, the team’s leading scorer and rebounder, who ranks in the 97th percentile in scoring efficiency, according to data courtesy of Synergy Sports.

Williams possesses an old-man game you might find at a local YMCA, a back-to-the-basket, footwork-proficient offensive assault that manifests primarily in post-ups, where he ranks in the 98th percentile in scoring efficiency and shoots an adjusted field-goal percentage of 56.1. He can get the Volunteers buckets in the waning moments of games, too, as he ranks in the 96th percentile in isolation scoring efficiency.

Likeliest first-round upsets: No. 9 Oklahoma over No. 8 Ole Miss (53 percent); No. 12 Oregon over No. 5 Wisconsin (45 percent); No. 10 Iowa over No. 7 Cincinnati (34 percent)

Midwest region

Top seed outlook: On paper, the Midwest seems to be the most open of the four regions, but we still give No. 1 North Carolina the best odds, with a 35 percent probability of reaching the Final Four and an 18 percent probability of appearing in the national championship game. Those odds are at least 8 percentage points lower than any other No. 1 team in the field, though, and for good reason: North Carolina’s offense depends on turning every play into a fast break. The Tar Heels struggle to get to the free-throw line and give up a ton of shots along the perimeter, which, in a slowed-down, half-court matchup, could be quite problematic.

After getting waxed by Duke to open the season, No. 2 Kentucky has caught fire in recent weeks while finding balance on both ends of the floor and mostly abstaining from the 3-point line. No. 3 Houston, meanwhile, is in the midst of its best season since Clyde Drexler and Hakeem Olajuwon were revolutionizing college basketball, and they boast a defense that ranks among the very best along and inside the perimeter.

Sneaky Final Four pick: No. 5 Auburn. When the Tigers steamrolled Tennessee 84-64 in Sunday’s SEC title game, it likely got the attention of a lot of bracket-pickers. That wasn’t a one-off — Auburn also beat Tennessee eight days earlier, part of a string of eight straight wins for the Tigers, and 10 in their last 11 games. With an explosive offense (No. 8 in KenPom efficiency) that got more of its points from downtown than any other team in the NCAA field, Auburn can heat up in a hurry. We give the Tigers nearly a coin-flip’s odds of making the Sweet 16 — and a very solid 37 percent chance of beating top-seeded North Carolina if the Tar Heels are waiting for Auburn there. The only kryptonite might be a hypothetical regional-final matchup with No. 2 seed Kentucky, which beat the Tigers by 27 in late February to sweep their season series.

Don’t bet on: No. 4 Kansas. The Jayhawks went into the season ranked No. 1 in the AP’s preseason poll, and they appeared to validate the choice by starting the season 10-0. But a 15-9 record (and some key injuries) since then have cast doubt on Kansas’s NCAA tournament potential. This is a well-balanced team, but to say it doesn’t shoot well from the outside is an understatement — see KU’s 3-for-18 performance from deep in Saturday’s Big 12 ouster against Iowa State. Add an unfavorable draw that puts them on a potential second-round collision course with Auburn (see above), and we give the Jayhawks only an 8 percent chance of making out of the Midwest with their championship hopes intact.

Cinderella watch: No. 11 Ohio State. If a Big Ten team that has made 11 Final Fours can be a Cinderella, then you’re looking at it in these Buckeyes. (Hey, the committee’s increasing tendency to seed underwhelming power-conference schools this way really messes with the definition.) OSU went only 18-13 during the regular season, was defeated in its second Big Ten tournament game and has almost twice as many losses as wins since New Year’s. So why are the Buckeyes a potential Cinderella? Despite the seed, this is still a dangerous team, one that ranks 27th in Pomeroy’s adjusted defensive ratings and has star forward Kaleb Wesson back from suspension. So maybe they’ll give Big 12 champ Iowa State trouble. But mainly this tells you something about the other potential Cinderellas in this region: Seton Hall got a very tough first-round matchup with underseeded Wofford; none of the other low seeds here are world-beaters. That leaves the Buckeyes, a team that did all it could to play its way out of the tournament, but has some upset potential regardless.

Player to watch: Cameron Johnson, UNC

On a team that doesn’t hoist a ton of shots from the perimeter, Johnson is as lethal as they come. Following an injury-riddled campaign in which he barely made more than one-third of his looks from beyond the arc, the grad student is canning 46.5 percent of his attempts, which ranks inside the top 25 nationally.

Johnson has thrived in North Carolina’s every-possession-is-a-transition-opportunity scheme this season. He’s blossomed into one of the best scorers in the ACC, ranking between the 85th and 100th percentiles in scoring efficiency in transition, off screens and on spot-ups.

Johnson has elevated his game in conference play, boasting the ACC’s top offensive rating (132.5) and true shooting percentage (64.6). Suddenly, a player who wasn’t seen as a guaranteed professional now projects to be a second-round pick.

Likeliest first-round upsets: No. 9 Washington over No. 8 Utah State (49 percent); No. 10 Seton Hall over No. 7 Wofford (37 percent); No. 11 Ohio State over No. 6 Iowa State (33 percent)

from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/your-guide-to-the-2019-ncaa-mens-tournament/

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