Thank god for spider noir being in beyond the spiderverse because Peter b is going to need another adult to help out with his 6 kids. Especially since he’s going to have Gwen “I would break all rules just to see my favorite people in the world” Stacy, Hobie “Major InstigatorTM” Brown, Miles “I’m gonna do my own thing and it’s going to be chaotic and crazy” Morales, Pavitr “I am ready to go along with the ride so long as it’s against colonizers” Prabahakar, and Peter “I operate on cartoon logic” Porker all in one single group.

The Marvels is being scathed by critics, and that's a good thing.

I finally saw The Marvels today. I'm a bit late to the party, so all I saw about the movie was the teaser at the end of Ms Marvel, and way too many critical reviews of it.

Now, obviously on Tumblr you find the good reviews, like, the cats outnumbering the white men and how Kamala Khan is, like, basically all of us. But in person, I've had someone tell me that it's bad because Rotten Tomatoes rates it 43%, which-- besides wondering why anyone would listen to Rotten Tomatoes, I'd have to wonder why the website would give it such a low rating. The easy answer is that the Tomatoes review committee is populated by white men, who, upon having no one to relate to, react badly to the movie. But I think there's more to it.

The Marvels is a revolution. Through its character-driven writing and brazen exploration of morality, it rewrites the superhero formula completely, by questioning what exactly it means to be a superhero.

The Marvels was directed by Nia DaCosta, an award-winning Harlem native and creative visionary whose approach to this film was to define these characters as humans, not as superheroes. Her approach to heroism directly addresses that the idea that a hero is not always right. A hero, DaCosta claims, is "someone who's trying their best with the information and tools they have at the time. They'll always get it wrong." Carol Danvers's arc directly addresses this, as the resolution of her subplot involves her re-igniting the sun that she snuffed out. Her heroic act is to undo the damage that she wrought.

When compared to old Marvel, this message just doesn't come through. In WandaVision, Wanda's grief is for a family that was killed by the Avengers. Yet, she is painted as a villain, even as she searches for a happy home, even as she at one point joins the Avengers. The Avengers cannot undo what they did, and don't really try. They defeat the big bad, sacrifice their lives, but nothing brings back Wanda's family. Nothing undoes that war. No one searches for Wanda after the event, to try to help her with her grief, except for Monica, and she's working against orders. Their heroics are militant, but while they excel at destruction, they leave the people they hurt in the dust.

This antiheroic plot of old Marvel is precisely what appealed to so many American audiences. Their protagonists are: a rich corporation, a super-soldier, a privileged teenager, a scientist who makes weapons, an ex-convict, a man born into godlike power, and I'm sure there are others but I don't actually care that much... (these would be iron man, captain america, peter parker spiderman, hulk, antman, thor, and etc). All these archetypes appeal to American ideals that the wealthy would sympathize with. They claim that there are people who are inherently bad and seek the power that they have, in the way that a poor person might want a job that a wealthy person wants their child to secure. They claim that it is their business to save those which cannot save themselves, and use this to get involved in wars that are not theirs, and beat up badguys whose backstory they have no way of knowing-- and they punch before they stop and listen.

They are cops in every sense of the word. The responsibility of the vigilante is to defend against evil, but part of that responsibility is to figure out who exactly is evil and who is in need of help.

The Marvels creates a team that tries to distinguish evil from good, and delves into the grey area between them. The final battle between Carol Danvers and Dar-benn has the superhero pinning the grey-haired antagonist to the ground as she begs for, then demands, that Carol fix what she damaged. Monica urges her to listen. Through this, The Marvels argues that a hero does not always beat up the bad guy and fight against unrelenting evil, but that a hero can be wrong, and that a hero can reconsider. It's kindness in the way that is revolutionary, where it's much easier to choose cruelty.

The fact that the movie is getting torn apart by critics, then, is not just because it is a "girls movie" or it doesn't have a strong white man for the white male viewer to sympathize with. The Marvels cannot appeal to Marvel fans because it rewrites the genre itself. It takes a film series whose purpose was to depict the struggles of cops, of the wealthy, of people with too much power who are trying to learn how to responsibly wield it, but don't. And it gives that power to people who have watched superheroes try and fail, who are slowly learning to be better heroes than the ones before them.

The next generation is a critique of the last, a group trying not to make the mistakes of the chosen ones that came before them, and as such, the movie exists to critique the movies that came before it. Therefore, a viewer of Marvel who would positively review it, due to sympathizing with the previous heroes and enjoying the power fantasy, would dislike it out of its existence being critical and contradictory to the films they like themselves.

The Marvels is not for Marvel fans-- at least, not those who saw the Avengers as purely heroes. Instead, the film reaches out to people who would have been against the old Avengers, who want a story that dismantles the unquestioned idealism of superheroes and writes about people trying to protect their communities and the people they care about.

So, let the critics complain. The MCU is shedding its roots as a pro-cop and pro-colonialism power fantasy, and evolving into an exploration of what it means to be a true hero.

I present yet ANOTHER atsv au:

the bird companion au

in which at the age of 10, every person is given a bird companion that signifies their purpose, character, and destiny by the Canon itself in a large ceremony.

Miles Morales was given the companion of a cockatiel, Gwen Stacy was given the companion of a swan, Pavitr Prabhakar was given the companion of a bluebird, and Hobie Brown was given the companion of a cockatoo.

Miguel O’Hara was given the companion of an African Grey Parrot, Jessica Drew was given the companion of a bald eagle, and Peter B. Parker was given the companion of a pigeon (hear me out here).

All of these symbolize their character and even their role in the multiverse. Cockatiels (Miles’s bird) symbolize the important of socialization and creating bonds with others, as well as holding your loved ones dear to your heart. Swans (Gwen’s bird) symbolizes grace and beauty. The swan is also seen in the famous ballet Swan Lake and it deals with the character of Odette being cursed, which is similar to Gwen Stacy and her curse of dying in every other universe.

Bluebirds (Pavitr’s bird) represent joy, happiness, and harmony, which is similar to how in the face of disaster and dangerous threats, Pavitr is still able to shine through with unwavering optimism that doesn’t feel faked in the slightest. Cockatoos (Hobie’s bird) don’t have one definite symbolism, but they are known for their seed dispersal to help regenerate the forest, and are often seen as “pests” to most farms. This can reflect on how Hobie gives to the community while screwing over the authority that wants to keep all resources to themselves.

African Grey Parrots (Miguel’s bird) are regarded as one of the smartest birds in the world, being the smartest parrot in the world as well. This, along with them symbolizing royalty through its tail feathers, emphasizes on the isolation Miguel goes through with his unique knowledge on the multiverse and the consequences of meddling with the Canon, as well as the grief and guilt that comes with knowing what will happen in the future.

Bald eagles (Jess’s bird) are seen as symbols of bravery and strength, which Jess perfectly represents. She works in one of the most elite and strict societies with prestige and a sense of professionalism that no one can deny is present. Yes, while this bird is also seen as specifically a symbol for the United States of America, this is what they symbolize on a broader level.

Now you may think I did Peter dirty by giving him a freaking PIGEON but the symbolism behind this particular bird fits his character arc a lot. Pigeons are seen as symbols of peace, love, and tranquility (calmness). His arc of learning to being love (MJ) back into his life again and a sense of peace with his new family emulates this bird perfectly. Also, I just see him with a pigeon especially with his attire, okay?

Here’s one more snippet for my OC Mariano O’Hara from the Mariano O’Hara au hehe

—-

Mariano O’Hara, if he were in this au as well, would be given the companion of a mockingbird. Mockingbirds, especially in the novel To Kill a Mockingbird, are symbols of innocence. To kill a mockingbird then, is to destroy innocence. Mariano, while he does have some of the qualities of getting a cockatiel, bluebird, and even a pigeon, he gets a mockingbird because his innocence of the world highlights everything else in his personality. His abundant kindness and love for the world is a direct result of being kept away from it by Miguel, who is extremely adamant on making sure he doesn’t face the horrors of society that are unfortunately present. They parallel each other in a way: Miguel’s bird represents the burden of having the most knowledge and intelligence out of anyone and Mariano’s bird shows both the ups and downs of being completely innocent, by being both ignorant of everything bad, but also vulnerable to those evil forces.

—-

So you can tell I have a lil obsession hehe

lemme know what you guys think and add your own thoughts to this!!!

taglist: @adorefavv @chessbox @daydreaming-en-pointe @darksidescorner @hoe-bie @hobiebrownismygod @i-put-the-wit-in-dimwit @ace-and-sleepdeprived @jasontoddssuper @skullghoulz @sp1derw1re @spiderxpawz @thecrowandtherose @the-cat-and-the-birdie

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 26

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is an Adult, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Two Morons Trying to Try Their Best

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Chapter 26

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Three days after their six-month anniversary, Peter was a mess of nerves. He'd woken up much earlier than he'd wanted, even though the night before Stephen had said they could have a lie-in until at least seven-thirty and they'd stop at the local coffee shop for donuts prior to their appointment at the BCSS office.

"Peter," Stephen said, taking the tie he'd worried into a wrinkled mess and setting it aside. "Everything is going to be fine." He picked another tie after looking at what Peter was wearing and after positioning Peter just so, went about tying it for him.

"I know, I know," Peter fussed. "I can't help that I'm nervous."

"We'll get through this and then we'll enjoy the rest of our day, hmm?" Stephen adjusted the tie with a critical look. "There's a new exhibit at the natural history museum in Upper York."

That got Peter's attention. "Really?"

"Yes. It's based on the latest findings from deep sea explorations."

"That sounds both exhilarating and potentially terrifying," Peter said.

"Agreed." Stephen looked at his Kang watch. "We should get going."

"And my tie looks good?" Peter asked.

"I tied it," Stephen said with a smirk. "Of course it looks good."

"Who are we talking with, again?" Peter asked as they waited in the lobby of the satellite office.

"I'm meeting with Mr. Fury and you're meeting with Ms. Hill," Stephen said after consulting the confirmation message he'd received when making their appointment.

"Okay, good."

"Do you know them?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably. "Kind of. Fury was the head custodian and assessor of my dorm while I was here. He didn't like me. Well, he didn't like any of us, really, but especially me."

Stephen's eyes narrowed. "What was his problem?" Who on earth would dislike Peter?

"I wasn't submissive enough, I guess." Peter shrugged. "I wasn't humble enough, either, and didn't know my place."

"And Hill?"

"She's mostly okay. She's kind of a hard-ass but she was always fair." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I wasn't here all that long, right? I was here for less than a month."

It was an incredible thought.

Less than a month and in that time Stephen had visited to inquire about selecting a spouse. He’d happened to catch a glimpse of Peter playing chess in their recreation hall and his decision had been made.

Foolhardy, sure.

But Peter was beautiful. Stephen had barely even skimmed over the profile the Assessor had reluctantly given him, claiming that Peter wasn’t “as gracefully settled into his place here as we’d prefer our potential spouses to be.” He'd ignored the stack of profiles that the Assessor had laid out ready for his review.

But what was done was done.

He hadn’t wanted a spouse, at all. But he had wanted Peter.

Now he had Peter and he'd be damned if anyone but Peter ended their marriage.

They'd sat waiting for close to twenty minutes before someone approached them.

"Appointment for Strange?" At Stephen's nod, the woman and her companion offered them a brief smile. "Good morning," the older woman said. "I'm Agent Melinda May. For this part of your Sixth-Month Assessment, you'll be interviewed separately." She motioned to the other woman. "This is Agent Kara Palamas. She'll escort Mr. Strange and Dr. Strange, you can follow me."

Peter reluctantly followed Assessor Palamas at Stephen's nod. "How long will the first part take?" He asked.

"It usually lasts for about two hours," the woman said. "It may go longer if your Assessor feels there's a need to dig deeper."

That didn't reassure Peter at all. He didn't know why it would need to be that long. Just what were they expecting from him?

Peter was shown into a bright office that he unfortunately recognized from roughly seven months prior.

Why was he in Fury's office? He was supposed to be meeting with Hill!

"Just have a seat and Nick will be with you shortly."

Peter wanted to protest and insist there had been a mistake. But he wanted the Assessment over more.

He plopped himself in a chair and did his best to relax. It was just a few hours in total. Just a few hours and then he and Stephen would go to Upper York and have a nice rest of their day.

"Mr. Parker," came a smooth voice. "Welcome back."

"It's Mr. Strange," Peter corrected, looking at the man.

Nick Fury was a tall black man who always seemed to know something everyone else didn't. He was suspicious by nature and rarely amused. He'd run Peter's dormitory with an iron fist and Peter, for some reason, had been the subject of his ire and disdain from the moment the BCSS had moved him to Sanctum Heights.

"Ah, yes. Your Selecting spouse is the renowned Dr. Strange. You did well for yourself, landing a doctor. I'd have never believed it if I hadn't seen the contract with my own eyes."

"I wasn't trying to land anyone," Peter said. And he hadn't been. He'd just been trying to keep out of jail and off the streets. He knew he'd lucked out with Stephen.

"We had a slew of candidates hand-picked for Dr. Strange," Fury told him, sitting down behind his giant desk. "We'd chosen the best candidate profiles to present to him. Each one was educated, accomplished in a variety of ways, and exactly the kind of person who could move with ease in a top-surgeon's privileged world. But instead he insisted on you."

Peter shrugged. "I can't speak for my husband." But Stephen wanted me, Peter thought. He thought I was beautiful and he picked me. He didn't see the fuss himself, but apparently Stephen did.

"No, no you can't. I'm glad you've retained some of the education we tried to provide you. You weren't exactly receptive to self-improvement."

Peter bit his tongue. No, he hadn't been receptive to Fury's attempts to browbeat him into submission. He wasn't going to act like he was some lesser person just because he was a selected spouse. The other custodians hadn't expected it of him; why did Fury?

"We might as well get started," Fury said. "There's quite a list to get through." He motioned to a thick packet. "And I'll be recording this."

"Did Stephen sign off on that?" Peter asked. He knew Stephen would need to.

"He did," Fury said.

"I want to see it," Peter insisted.

With a put-upon sigh, Fury printed off a document from his computer.

Peter reviewed it carefully and sure enough, there was Stephen's signature - he recognized it well. "Okay, then."

Fury started to ask Peter questions.

"How was your first day as spouses?"

Peter considered. "Long, kind of a blur, looking back. We had a nice dinner and then went home."

"And did you allow your Selecting spouse to assert his rights?"

Peter fought the blush that wanted to creep up on his neck and face. He succeeded, even! "I did," he said evenly. "I don't deny him."

"And to your knowledge, is he satisfied with your performance?"

"I enjoy sex with you Peter, very much, and as you've experienced, I have no problem indulging."

"Yes."

"How can you be sure?"

Really? That was important for them to know? "If Stephen is unhappy with something, he has no problem making it known."

Eventually Fury started back on the packet and went down the list of questions. Peter gave simple answers, much to Fury's annoyance.

Do you have any concerns regarding your marriage?

No, I don't have any concerns regarding my marriage.

Peter really didn't, not after the progress they'd made. It wasn't something he'd exactly wanted, but he was content now.

Do you have any concerns regarding your Selecting Spouse?

No, I don't have any concerns regarding my Selecting Spouse.

Stephen was a good husband and very fair. For the first few weeks, he'd been very concerned, but he and Stephen had found their rhythm soon enough. Now, he knew that Stephen at least cared about him. His biggest concern was how lonely Stephen seemed to be, sometimes.

Are you afraid to express your thoughts and emotions to your Selecting Spouse?

No, I'm not afraid to express my thoughts and emotions to my Selecting Spouse.

Peter felt that he and Stephen were in a good place. Peter knew that Stephen found his smart mouth amusing most of the time. And the times Stephen didn't... well, Peter's ass paid for it. He had a much better idea of where the line was.

Do you feel alone?

No, I don't feel alone.

He didn't, not really. Stephen wasn't the most outgoing of people but they spent plenty of time together. Stephen went out of his way to keep their date nights on Friday evenings.

What communication obstacles do you face?

Our biggest obstacle to communication is that neither of us are big on sharing, let along oversharing.

He and Stephen were both private people. But they'd gotten better about it, for sure.

On and on the questions went. Peter answered truthfully to the best of his ability, even though some questions, like Do you feel sexually satisfied in your marriage? were embarrassing enough that even keeping his answers short and to the point, he couldn't control his blushing, much to Fury's amusement.

Every so often Peter would give an answer and that would prompt Fury to ask more questions. Peter had no idea just what the man was looking for.

As the clock showed the two hour mark approaching, Fury finished up with his packet.

"Wait right here while I go check in with Ms. Hill," Fury said. "Then you'll move into the next phase of this assessment."

Left alone in the office, Peter stood and started pacing. It was stupid, to let this room have any kind of power over him when he was so clearly out of the man's grasp. It was just another office, occupied by just another man who for some reason, felt that Peter was an easy mark.

Had Fury even read the books on the shelves? And just who was he friends with that he'd take a picture with?

Peter stepped closer to look at the photo.

His heart went cold.

It was a photo of Fury... with Quentin Beck.

Stephen followed Assessor May to an office where she bid him to sit.

"They'll be right with you," she said.

He sat, hoping Peter was doing okay. His young husband had been a nervous wreck; it hadn't mattered how many times Stephen tried to reassure him. He'd have to treat him that afternoon - maybe something in addition to their trip to the natural history museum.

"Dr. Strange, I'm Assessor Maria Hill."

He studied the woman who entered the office and frowned. "I thought I was going to be speaking with Assessor Nick Fury."

Hill checked the packet she carried. "Nope. Must have been an error. Sometimes the system puts assessors in the wrong order." He very much doubted that. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, thank you." He held up his bottle of water and briefly wondered if Fury was extending Peter the same offer.

"We'll be going over some basic questions, all routine. And as you've previously approved, we'll be recording this visit."

"That's fine with me."

"Tell me about your first day as a married couple."

Oh, hell. This was a mistake.

"It was busy, what with the time spent here signing the contract, meeting, and then marrying Peter. We had a nice dinner out and then went home. It was pleasant enough, if awkward."

He'd been ecstatic that Peter was his and determined to not let any of that show. He hadn't lied when he told Peter that day that he hadn't wanted a spouse; he still resented having his hand forced. But oh, he could hardly bring himself to do much talking over dinner because he couldn't quite believe that it was actually real.

"And did Peter allow you to assert your rights at his Selecting Spouse?"

"He did, yes."

It hadn't been a smooth night, certainly. Peter had been emotionally wrought and defaulted to angry words in an attempt to push the inevitable back. Stephen had tried to give him some time to clear his head and when that hadn't worked... Well, he'd had to put Peter over his knee and inform him exactly how things were going to be.

It was nothing like how he'd wanted their first night to go, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"Is there anything you'd like to add to that?" Hill asked, looking amused.

"No," he said flatly. It was none of their business.

"Are you satisfied with Peter's performance?"

What the hell kind of question was that?

"I don't understand the question," he answered.

"Was Peter's submission that night acceptable to you?" Hill rephrased.

"Yes."

Peter had submitted so beautifully to him in bed later that night and knowing that he was Peter's first still gave him a rush of euphoria he didn't think would ever fade. If things worked out the way he wanted them to he'd be Peter's only.

Hill wrote something down on her packet and then started going through the questions. He kept his answers simple and to the point. They didn't need to know the inner-workings of his marriage to Peter. Peter was his husband and what they thought didn't matter.

Do you have any concerns regarding your marriage?

I do not.

He and Peter were in a good place, he thought. They'd struggled some the first couple of months but overall he felt they were doing well.

Do you have any concerns regarding your Selecting Spouse?

No, Peter is wonderful and I have no concerns regarding him.

Peter was a bratty little smartass who was almost too clever for his own good and still too quick to brush off his own needs. He was funny, kind, generous, and just so... good it nearly hurt to be around him sometimes. But oh, he adored Peter.

Are you afraid to express your thoughts and emotions to your Selecting Spouse?

I'm not, no.

Well, he was getting better at it, at least. And Peter, whether he knew it or not, was helping with that tremendously. He still preferred to keep his own council, but he couldn't exactly expect Peter to do one thing while he himself did the opposite.

Do you feel alone?

I do not.

Stephen had never been the most outgoing of people and he'd often found connecting with others difficult. There were rare exceptions for people he found himself perfectly comfortable around, like with Tony and Sharon. There were others whose company he enjoyed and whom he admired, like Clea and Ava, Ben, Misty, and hell, even cantankerous Len. Nic was even growing on him.

He'd had a group of close friends and confidants two years ago, before they'd committed what he considered to be a massive betrayal and he'd found himself adrift and determined to bury his loneliness in his work.

Until Peter he hadn't realized how lonely he'd been.

It was hard to stay so closed off when Peter was just so open and friendly.

What communication obstacles do you face?

I can't discuss much about my work but otherwise we're fine.

He was a private person in general, and so, it seemed, was Peter. But they were getting better.

Everything with Peter was just... better.

He was relieved when they worked their way through the packet of questions.

"You know, I wasn't working at this particular satellite office when you approached us, but I've read up on your case. It's kind of funny; when you first inquired about selecting a spouse, the Bureau here bent over backwards to choose profiles they thought would be compatible. They were some of our most educated and accomplished candidates and you barely looked at them. Instead you insisted on a poor young man who'd barely settled in here. Why Peter?"

He hadn't wanted their profiles or their recommendations. Not after he'd caught that glimpse of Peter in the rec room playing chess.

"Call it a gut feeling," he said.

Peter had never been so glad to see Stephen in his life. He needed that cool, calming and protective presence of his like never before. With Stephen, he was safe.

Stephen wouldn't let anything happen to him, not ever.

In a separate waiting room, they sat and waited for the next phase of their assessment.

"Did everything go okay?" Stephen asked him quietly, when Peter's knee wouldn't stop jumping and he took Stephen's hand.

"Yeah, I'm just ready for this to be over," Peter said. It wasn't an outright lie.

"Did Fury upset you?"

Peter sighed and leaned into Stephen. "He always upsets me."

"Well, after today, I doubt you'll ever have to deal with him again," Stephen soothed. "We'll be done with this place."

"You're probably right," Peter agreed. Peter certainly hoped Stephen was right. Knowing what he knew now, he could never risk coming back to the BCSS.

It wasn't long before Assessor Palamas came and escorted them to yet another room.

How many rooms does this damned place have? Peter wondered.

It was the most welcoming space Peter had seen thus far in the entire center. It was light and open, with a cozy little couch across from a dark navy leather armchair. Nothing about it felt sinister, stiff, or overly bureaucratic. It was simply comfortable.

The man who entered - carrying yet another packet, of course - seemed pleasant enough. He smiled at them and following Stephen's lead, Peter rose to shake his hand.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "I'm Agent Triplett. Please, have a seat. I'm sure you've had a long morning so I'll do my best to keep this moving along."

"We appreciate it," Stephen said.

The setting this time didn't leave Peter feeling uncomfortable and Triplett was much nicer than Fury had ever been. There didn't seem to be any artifice in the man, though Peter's radar for that was, he would freely admit, terribly unreliable.

"Overall, how would you describe the current state of your marriage?"

Peter looked to Stephen before answering. When he got the nod to go ahead, he did. "I think we're in a good place," he said. "It was a little rough the first couple of months but we figured it out."

"And do you agree with that assessment, Dr. Strange?"

"I do," Stephen answered.

"Well, you might be relieved to know that that sentiment is fairly common in these marriages. It's when couples say they haven't had any rough spots that we start to worry."

He asked them more questions along the lines of "Do you feel the Bureau did an adequate job in preparing you both for your marriage?" and "Have either of you encountered any resistance from others regarding your marriage?" and "What feedback would you like to provide us?"

Peter followed Stephen's lead in answering and as he did so, felt much better about the day's events than he had prior to speaking to Triplett. Stephen keeping a hold of his hand had helped as well.

"Alright then," Triplett said. "That wraps us up for today. You'll receive a letter in the mail summarizing today's check-in and in five months, additional instructions as you approach the year-end mark. If you have any questions, please, don't hesitate to reach out to me personally." He gave Stephen a business card before shaking their hands again and personally escorting them to the front door.

Six months ago, Peter would have given anything to avoid getting in Stephen's Buick. Now, he wanted to dive into the front seat and beg Stephen to never bring them back.

Now, he'd give anything to stay with Stephen, where he was safe.

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The Amazing Spider-Man (vol. 1) #431: The Carnage Cosmic

Read Date: October 16, 2022 Cover Date: February 1998 ● Writer: Tom DeFalco ● Penciler: Joe Bennett ● Inker: Bud LaRosa ● Colorist: Bob Sharen ● Letterer: Richard Starkings ◦ Kiff Scholl ● Editor: Ralph Macchio ●

Synopsis: The Silver Surfer has been possessed by the Carnage symbiote and now struggles to keep in control. Seeing the Surfer struggle, Spider-Man tries to help, but the symbiote can access Norrin Radd's Power Cosmic and uses it to keep the wall-crawler at bay. The Surfer tells Spider-Man to keep away and let him try and handle this situation. Flying away, the Surfer smashes through a building, forcing the wall-crawler to save nearby bystanders who are beneath the rubble. At that moment, at the Empire State University lunch room, Mary Jane and her friends listen to the radio for further reports about Carnage's recent escape from Ravencroft. Mary Jane is particularly worried and hopes that her husband hasn't done anything stupid like go into costume to face his foe. While at the hospital, Martha Robertson is released after the wounds sustained from being attacked by Carnage have been patched up. Deeply upset by the situation, Martha tells her husband Joe that he has a choice to make: He needs to either choose the Daily Bugle, or their marriage. That's when Joe hears someone calling for help down the hall. This turns out to be Spider-Man who has arrived to get Cletus Kasady some medical help, as he has been in a bad way since his symbiote abandoned him to bond with the Silver Surfer. Although the doctors on site are quick to take Kasady into their care, security tries to arrest the wall-crawler, forcing him to flee to evade capture.

Meanwhile, in deep space, Cosmic Carnage flies far away from Earth. The symbiote has tapped into a distant genetic memory of a time, many years ago, when a planet conquered by symbiotes became the latest in the many planets eaten by Galactus. Remembering how the Silver Surfer was present as his master consumed that world, the symbiote intends to use the former herald of Galactus to get revenge against the cosmic being that slaughtered so many of its own kind. While back on Earth, Spider-Man tries to call the Avengers, but unfortunately the team is not present at the mansion. The wall-crawler is forced to cut the call short when a trio of men try to capture him and claim the bounty on his head. Back at the hospital, Martha Robertson has calmed down and tells Joe that he can't just quit at the Daily Bugle for her, he must also because it is what he wants to do. Joe has a lot to consider, however the recent sale of the Bugle to Norman Osborn, things have been very different at the newspaper. In one of the other rooms, a doctor has determined that Cletus Kasady is suffering from a severe form of stomach cancer and that the symbiote was preventing from killing. Hearing this from outside the window, Spider-Man believes that death-by-cancer couldn't happen to a more deserving person, however, due to his moral code, the wall-crawler can't just stand by and let Cletus Kasady die. Unfortunately, he cannot do that unless he can find some way to separate the symbiote from the Silver Surfer.

Back in space, the Silver Surfer continues to struggle with the symbiote. The creature responds by flooding his mind with memories of Cletus Kasady and his abusive childhood. While on Earth, Spider-Man goes to Washington Square Park to see if his friend Nate Grey, the X-Man, is present. However, he is chased away by the strange cult that has gathered in the area to worship him. Swinging up to the rooftops a frustrated wall-crawler wonders why he helps the very people who fear and hate him and begins considering leaving Cosmic Carnage for them to deal with. At that moment, the Silver Surfer reaches deep within his mind and uses the Cosmic Power to stop the warring personalities that is sharing his mind. By this point, Peter Parker has changed back into his street clothes, still wondering why he even bothers. However, when he sees something come rocketing from the sky toward the hospital where Kasady is staying and realizes that he really can't just stand by and do nothing. Changing back into Spider-Man, the wall-crawler attacks Cosmic Carnage, not wanting the symbiote to merge with Kasady again, deciding that the menace of Carnage must end. When news of Spider-Man's battle is broadcast on the radio, Mary Jane faints when she hears that her husband is battling a Carnage possessed Silver Surfer.

The battle continues on, the Silver Surfer tries to convince Spider-Man that letting the symbiote bond with Cletus Kasady again is the right thing to do. Realizing that if Kasady dies, the symbiote could permanently bond to the Silver Sufer, the wall-crawler realizes that the lesser of two evils is the best solution in this case and helps the Surfer get past security. When the symbiote bonds with Kasady, Carnage is ready to start slaughtering people all over again. However, the Silver Surfer refuses to allow any more deaths to happen because of this and uses the Power Cosmic to imprison Carnage in an unbreakable shell of ethereal energy. While at the Daily Bugle, Joe Robertson pays a visit to J. Jonah Jameson to tell him that he is leaving the Bugle.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Amazing_Spider-Man_Vol_1_431)

Fan Art: The Hybrid Symbiote colored by ProfessorAdagio

Accompanying Podcast: ● Untold Talks of Spider-Man - episode 06

Rambling to thoughts get off my chest

I’m starting to have to accept the fact some of my friends do not see representation in the same way I do. 

I have two friends who are also PJO fans and they had a more negative reaction to Annabeth being cast with a black actress. (One of them is black btw). I reacted positively. I think it’s cool and potentially great representation. I’ve also seen some compelling arguments on Tiktok by some black female creators I follow. 

My friends are Neurodiverse and they like familiarity, they’re nostalgic (same here), and sometimes it’s difficult to convince them of new ideas or to change ideas or see things from a different perspective. One of them really thinks in terms of black and white. It’s good or bad.

Sometimes it’s frustrating for me personally to see something and be hype for it and they’re either ambivalent or completely opposed. They like the familiarity of blonde grey eyed Annabeth Chase. This live action adaptation probably isn’t meant for them exactly and will probably pull in new readers of PJO which is awesome. Also the new show could address a lot of criticism and aspects that didn’t age well within the Percy Jackson universe. They don’t always see it that way.

Whenever someone argues forced diversity my red flags go off in my head to approach subject with caution because forced diversity has just become a trigger into my head of someone’s going to say some kind of Anti-SJW shit where it’s just some misogynistic echo chamber slogan where some guy on the internet had a problem with a woman existing in a movie/video game/comic or insert thing here. Most of the time when someone makes the forced diversity argument it’s an inarticulate and inaccurate portrayal of what feels like the root of the problem. The problem that is capitalism and commodification of social justice as clout. 

Like yeah, diversity should be done well but like we can’t make impossible Goldilocks standards for creators for a black woman to exist in a universe, or make up an in universe reason why a minority is here. The female character can’t be a virgin but she can’t be a whore, she’s too nice but she can’t be too mean. She’s a mary sue and skilled at everything or she’s useless and does nothing for the plot. None of these arguments work with each other but I hear them all the time for the same characters. 

I agree raceswapping certain characters is a bad idea because sometimes it’s very important to who they are as a character. Like bad idea to make Mulan a white person. However, I also feel sometimes it’s a missed opportunity if you change a white person into POC and part of their thematic journey or character arc involves oppression sometimes in certain contexts if would be proper and make the story deeper if you included that new aspect. Not every POC has to address racism as a systemic problem. Just like how not every queer person has to have a coming out plot line. I understand why some people want there to feel like effort and care was put into representation.

Some people feel like that can only be done with new characters. Like the Stan Lee approach of maybe not have Peter Parker be black but hey we got Miles Morales. Yeah that’s true in some scenarios but it feels like drawing a boundary, like this invisible line, where POC can’t have certain characters. You can’t have my toy go make your own. Tries to make own but doesn’t get funding, marketing, or attention it deserves. You can’t really replace Peter Parker with Miles Morales cause Miles will always be associated with Peter but Peter won’t have to be associated with Miles. 

IDK it all gets so complicated so fast. IDK solutions or how to feel about all this stuff. I just try and understand how I feel about things, how other people feel about it, and self-reflect whether or not I need to change or add to my opinion on how exactly we can make better stories. 

One way is to dismantle capitalism.

Other ways are varied and will always differ between people. *sigh* I’ll just do my thing and they’ll do their thing in the end. 

a shot in the dark

peter parker x fem!reader | fluff

summary: you're stephen strange's apprentice, and for the last few days, Spiderman's been visiting the Sanctum a lot.

note: food mention, kind-of-morally-grey!reader, illusions to a kidnapping, physical fights, major no way home spoilers except I'm not following the script.

"Stephen's busy." Your words greeted him like a cold embrace. Spiderman shrugged and sat on the wooden bench like he had done a thousand times before.

"Should I come back another time?" he asked within the first five seconds. (He wasn't known for his patience.)

"He'll finish up his meeting in ten minutes," you said, hands folded across your chest. "Unless you're that busy, I'd say wait."

"You said that the last time too, but he was only done after two hours."

You scoffed. "I'm his apprentice, not his assistant. You can't expect me to book your appointments."

"Oh, you'd make a terrible assistant," he said observantly. "Your glare's too murdery. You'll chase everyone away."

"Boy, I won't hesitate to evaporate your Halloween costume."

"You wish you had a cool suit like me," he said smugly. You simply rolled your eyes.

The truth was, you knew about the masked vigilante even before you met him. But when Tony Stark spoke of Spiderman in such a high way, you expected someone just like the billionaire himself. Cunning, sarcastic, strategic, and maybe even a bit charming. The man beside you didn't fit any of the categories. He was awkward, bubbly, kind-hearted and you half-expected him to be accompanied by a unicorn.

He hadn't taken off his mask whenever he came to see Strange, but you were less than curious about the person underneath. The visits themselves were frequent, but that's another story.

"How's your magic fingers today?" he asked conversationally.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh- I thought you were learning magic with Mr. Strange?"

"You could have phrased it better. Lots better. In fact, you could have just kept your mouth shut."

"I'm trying to be nice here!" Spiderman whined. "I'm not that much of a bad guy you know. In fact, I believe in multiverse and I swear to god, we are best friends on another earth and doing karaoke right now."

You rolled your eyes again. "I highly doubt that."

It's more likely than you think, he thought but kept that to himself.

-

FAST FORWARDS TO 24 HOURS LATER

-

"Y/N!" Peter called, weeding through the students. Your startled expression split into a warm smile when you spotted him.

"You're late!" you scolded, though you were more interested in the way he was limping. "Wait, what happened?"

"Uh, skateboard accident."

"You don't have a skateboard. What are you even wearing?"

"I'm going to be late for class," Peter said, pulling the sweatshirt around him tighter so you couldn't see the red cloth underneath. "See ya!"

"WE HAVE THE SAME CLASS!"

He heard your words, but pretended he didn't. He walked to the nearest closest, fixed the sweater, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

He took a deep breath in, counting his lucky stars that you didn't suspect anything. Sure Peter Parker was your best friend, but you won't hesitate to kill Spiderman. He shuddered at the thought.

Two weeks ago, when Peter first met you as Spiderman, he was wary and nervous. But when he spotted you in the same class as him, he had let out a sound of excitement and volunteered to be your lab partner. He was going to say he was Spiderman, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. You were just so…nice. He didn't want your smile to be replaced by a scowl.

Be that it may, he had now dug his grave and there was nothing much to do except lie in it. Except Mysterio intervened and pushed him inside.

-

"Ned, oh god everyone knows," Peter shut down the blinders of his house, as if there were aliens looking in.

"This is bad, so bad," Ned said through the phone, his voice shriller than ever.

Peter started to properly panic. There were so many questions and exclamations — lots of sounds at the same time that he couldn't figure out who was saying what.

"I think we need to take a deep breath—"

Was that May? Sounds like Happy. Is it Happy?

"How did Mysterio manage to screw you even on his deathbed?"

No, that's Happy. Or Flash. Flash isn't in my apartment though.

"Who knows a lawyer here?"

That was definitely May. Or MJ. Or Ned. Or Happy.

"Peter you have to stop freaking out," MJ said softly, seeing him pace the room.

"I'm not freaking out," he said quickly. "I'm not freaking out. I can fix this. I just need to find Stephen. Maybe if I call Y/N—"

Words died in his throat. Or maybe he didn't have enough strength to get them out. He froze, utterly shocked to the core.

"Y/N knows," he whispered. "She knows. I have to call her."

"Pete—"

"I'll be right back." Cursing under his breath, he locked himself in his bedroom and dialed your number. Fortunately or unfortunately, you picked up at the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, oh thank god," Peter exhaled in relief. He had half-expected you to send him to voicemail. "I just- I'm dealing with EVERYTHING at once but I called you I- I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before. I'm an idiot and I lied a lot of times, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"Peter, where are you right now?" your voice asked.

"Uhm, home?"

"There's a lot of news reporters outside and the FBI won't be too far away."

"Wait, why would the FBI—"

"Promise me you won't talk to them without a lawyer present."

Rapid knocks on his door made him distracted.

"There are cops here," MJ whispered through the keyhole. Peter cursed again, this time properly loud — because he was, in every sense, truly fucked. He looked at his phone screen again but you had hung up. He could worry about that later.

The only relief he felt amidst the chaos was how you didn't sound mad at him in the slightest. The rest of the world was, but he could deal with that.

-

Peter Parker picked a perilously precarious profession. That part was true. Even fancy words couldn't cover up his untimely messy decisions though.

After some particularly shitty questioning, he went over to Sanctum, which was probably the worst thing he could have done. It started a chain of yet another disastrous events; including but not limited to monsters, variants, murderers, and a collapsing timeline.

He was tired. Wounded.

He was almost relieved when Stephen came back from the grand canyon. You were also with him and the frown on your face said whatever pity you had for him earlier that day had fully evaporated. Peter didn't notice nor care.

"Y/N!" he called, throwing himself to you in a hug. God knows he desperately needed one. You sighed and hugged back, though you still appeared stiff.

"I need to talk to you," you said firmly. "Right now."

"I've been dangling over the grand canyon for 12 hours," Stephen said, anger clear in his voice.

"This won't take a moment," you promised, pulling Peter to walk away from the scene.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking back every few seconds to see what was happening. Even the sky looked unfamiliar.

You stopped, facing him hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," you said, then snapped your fingers.

The world disappeared from his feet.

-

"What the—?" Peter yelled, taking in the surroundings. He knew it was your spare room, the one where you kept all your magic books. He had been there countless times as Peter Parker.

"Stephen can't help you," you said. "You're not going to him."

"What are you talking about—?"

"You could have told me before, you know. That you were Spiderman. Why didn't you?"

He softened. "I thought you would be angry."

"I am," you sighed. "Well this hurts you more than it hurts me but you're staying here. For now. Until I find a way to fix the multiverse."

"You're- you're locking me up?" Peter blinked. "You're kidding me right?"

"I'm protecting you. Believe me, Stephen can't help you."

"Why do you keep saying that? I thought Stephen was more powerful than you." He saw you moving to the door, so he used his webs instinctively. They bind your hand to the door.

"You're not leaving me here, I want to fight," he said defensively. "I trust you more than I trust myself but I also know you. There's something you're not telling me."

"Let me go."

"Not unless you explain what's going on."

"Fine, you wanna fight?" you asked, eyes gleaming. "I'll give you a fight."

The webs melted right off your hand, and sudden flames danced upon your fingers. Peter gulped.

You took the ornamental sword off the wall. He hardly had time to dodge as you took a swing. It moved through the edge of his red suit, and he yelped at the fresh new cut.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" he yelled, attaching himself to the other wall of the room. You didn't respond, just threw the nearest lamp in his direction. He cleanly avoided it this time, and the lamp broke into a million little pieces.

"You. Should. Have. Told. Me." you gritted your teeth, ditching the sword and levitating the books instead. "Fight back, coward."

"No." He sat down on the floor, defiant. "Throw them at me. Kill me. Heck, maybe it will fix the multiverse. But I'm not sitting here with nothing to do. I gave up everything to fix my mistake. May's gone and-" his voice cracked.

Your hands went slack. Tears threatened to spill out, and even Peter was startled at the sudden vulnerability.

"Stephen's going to make us forget you," you said quietly. "He doesn't know any other way to fix this."

Silence followed.

"Do you?" He looked calm.

"No."

"Then I have to let Stephen do it." He stood up, smiling softly. "This whole mess started with me. This is the price for that I guess."

"You're not the one paying it."

He walked over to you, hesitantly taking your hand in his. It was still warm, traces of magic still visible. He didn't let go.

"Hey, we'll be okay." He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if praying. "We'll be alright."

This close, you recognized yourself in him. Two soldiers tired of fighting.

-

TWO WEEKS LATER

-

"This seat taken?" you asked, sitting down even before the person beside you could answer.

Peter froze.

"You okay?" you called. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No this seat's uh not taken," he said quickly, masking his surprise with a cough.

"I'm Y/N," you added, opening your bag and throwing a bag of cookies at him. He caught it effortlessly.

"Good reflexes," you noted, popping your soda bottle open.

"The class's about to start—"

"And I'm hungry, bite me," you scoffed. "Besides, if we get caught, I have a lot of ways to undo it. Believe me, I'm magic."

I know.

"Okay," he nodded, taking out a cookie himself. "I'm Peter by the way. Peter Parker."

You frowned. Why did that sound familiar?

"Well Peter Parker, do you like horror?"

"Excuse me?"

"A couple of my friends are going to the movies tonight and we're one short. Wanna come?"

"I- I have plans," he said quickly.

"But we're friends!" you fake-pouted.

"We've known each other for five seconds."

"I'm sharing my cookies, that's some best friend shit right there."

He was about to retort, but he froze again when he saw your wrist watch — the same one he had given you on your birthday.

"It looks cool," Peter added, only because you had caught his intense staring.

"It's been with me for as long as I remember," you said, shrugging. "I don't even remember when I bought it."

You smiled, suddenly feeling nostalgic. You looked at Peter again.

A beat passed, then two.

"You really do look familiar, you know," you said slowly.

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to have found its mark. Peter's face drained of blood.

Oh, this better be good.

-—————————

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Twisted steel and sex appeal ↬ p.p

A/N: HEYYY It's mee remember? :D Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ;) This is a suuuper late submission for @starksparker and @cunaeparker 's writing challenge lj;sl also thank @justapurrcat for being an ANGELL <3<3

Summary: There was something different about Peter Parker, and you were gonna find what it was till your last breath.

Warnings: little smutty (18+ only!), smoking. morally grey characters? mentions of Sk*p Wescott and the thing he did, let me know if I miss something! Pairing: College!Peter Parker x College!Reader (grey?)

WC: 4.9k

Masterlist || Taglist

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"Spider-man's name… Spider-man’s name is Peter Parker!" the screen on time's square buzzed with static, just as Spider-man- Peter Parker's mind blazed with fury. 

New York went silent on behalf of their hero, the only sound was the blaring cacophony of J Jonah Jameson’s voice spewing what could only be said in simpler words as bullshit. 

"That's you." MJ whispered, now with her feet on the ground. Peter has never felt so blinded before. 

The crowd bustled with the excitement of first year students, each of them either frantically searching for their classes or making new friends, some who had already come in with their friends or significant others. It wasn’t like the usual high school crowd of sweaty bodies and jocks, it had a different air in itself. An air of excitement that would rival a lover’s beating heart, air full of excitement for a fresh start. 

Navigating his way through the crowded corridors, Peter finally saw his classroom for the day- Chemistry 101, nearly jumping in excitement as he entered the auditorium full of balcony seats. Looking at his surroundings, his heart clenched. 

As a major in chemical engineering, Peter was very excited for his first class. He hasn't felt this kind of excitement since he had discovered Tony Stark sitting on his ratty couch next to his aunt back in the day. 

Entering the room, he was relieved to see that he wasn't the only student there, or that the professor had not come over yet. 

Finding a bench in the back corner of the classroom, he smiled at his benchmate, shuffling his backpack and books on his bench. Sitting straight, he took a deep breath, looking up when the class went silent.  

His mind flashed to his old high school, the distinct lack of Ned's presence as he studied in CalTech was a little suffocating, the lack of his inquisitive voice leaving Peter's mind spinning. 

Friends were overrated- MJ had said, and he couldn't help but resonate with that sentence.

Or so he thought. 

“Hi.” He was startled out of his trance, nearly jumping off of his seat before he shook his head, chuckling at the giggles that brewed from.. from You.

You, Y/n L/n, were sitting behind him again, for some reason that was beyond his understanding. 

He had first met you during the orientation, you were in the same position as now- sitting behind him- giddy and chirpy and excited. Excited for a new year and a new start- a fresh start. If emotions had smells, Peter would’ve smelt the anxiety and fear in you. He would’ve smelt the excitement and the nervous energy at the prospect of starting a new milestone. 

But he didn’t. He had been more withdrawn than normal that day, because he was moving from New York, from a home he had known ever since the day he was born. The smell and taste and feel of New York was instilled in his memory- a core memory in his brain that would take stronger than a memory spell to vanish. 

So he kept quiet that day, choosing to nod and smile and respond shyly to whenever you poked his shoulders with your new pen. 

Peter has always been an extrovert his whole life- he was shy and closed, rarely talked to people- but he was an extrovert at heart. He liked having people around, having the people he loved around. There weren’t many people on his list of people, and he learned pretty quickly that the more people he added, the more they left. 

Being Spider-Man taught him a lot about his life, one of them being that he couldn't trust many people. People would fake their way into his heart and then end up tearing it apart. He learnt that the hard way in London. 

It had taken a long time for Peter to recover from the betrayal, hadn't recovered fully even, but for some reason, he felt attracted to you. You had wormed your way into his small circle, he just had a hard time showing that to you. 

Peter Parker wasn't one to be emotionally constipated, he loved to display his emotions, but the shy part of him always felt too much when he tried to publicly talk to strangers. But talking to you felt… familiar. 

It felt like talking to Ned when he had first met him, like eating dinner with May every Friday and lab sessions with Mr. Stark every wednesday. It was easy and beautiful. 

He just felt weary of adding you to the list of people of the inner circle. It was like a curse around him, one that he so desperately tried to overlook despite the circumstances. The last time he had impulsively added someone to the list, they had ended up betraying him in the harshest way possible.

(Quentin Beck, he said that he would protect him. That he was a hero and not trying to replace Mr. Stark, but Peter, like the naive, sad, desperate child he was, trusted him.

No one would ever know what happened at the bridge that day, EDITH was disabled and some measly newspaper like The Daily Bugle should’ve known better than to believe that New York would ever let their favourite hero down.)

“What are you thinking about?” You whispered, snapping him from his thoughts. 

Lips twitching, Peter shook his head slightly, shoulders bunching up before turning back to the front, "none of your business."  

You frowned slightly, amused by the shy boy in front of you. Ever since you had met him during the orientation, you had been intrigued by the boy. You had seen the news, everyone in the country had, and you might have not been there to witness what spider-man had allegedly done, you knew deep in your mind that the hero could never do it.

Spider-man had been the talk of MIT ever since Peter Parker had arrived. It wasn’t news to people, and Peter hadn’t bothered covering it up either. He would leave classes to fight the villain of the week, come back bruised and injured and sleep deprived and still manage to turn in his assignments. 

The professors turned a blind eye to him, some sympathising for the hero, some were indifferent to it. Spider-man might as well be one of the biggest conspiracies since Iron Man stopped selling weapons. 

But that was not what pulled you towards him. You’ve had friends before coming to college, some flaky and some loyal. The thing about highschool students is that they’re desperate for someone to be involved in their lives- platonic or romantic. They readily accept friendships when thrown at them. 

You reasoned that Peter was one of the shy bunch- the one who had deep rooted trust issues and only revealed in having one or two close people. 

One of your flaws, if you could call them that, was that you were a people's pleaser. You unknowingly volunteered yourself to jump out of your comfort zones just to make someone comfortable. 

Sometimes it became an issue. Unfortunately (or fortunately, some would say), your case with Peter Parker was one of the many of your "can't help but try to befriend them" ones. 

You had practically made it your life's mission to befriend this boy.

(and maybe fuck him a little. Who would blame you though? those doe eyes were practically inviting you.) 

"You're always sad, and you only ever talk about your Aunt. And mentor." You try to cajole a response, being offered with silence instead. Sighing, you try again, "do you have friends?"

Sitting back on your desk, you didn't expect an answer from the silent boy in front of you, picking your pencil to lazily doodle in your notepad.

"I do." He said softly, the classroom's chatter making his words nearly inaudible.

"Do they study here?" You pried, leaning forward as if conspiratorially. 

"You ask a lot of questions." He hissed, clenching his jaw, the bone getting sharper as his muscles were pulled back. You could practically see him grinding his teeth.

"You don't talk much, someone's gotta compensate for that, so I ask enough questions for both of us." You shrugged, nonplussed by his tone. 

"We're not friends, you're not obligated to talk to the sad lonely kid." He bristled, rolling his eyes.

You rolled your eyes back at him, clicking your tongue, "I'm not that kind of person, but whatever. I was just trying to make conversation because I think you're hot." 

You could hear him smirk, back shuffling so that he was leaning against the back of his desk, nearly touching your fingers where they were dangling from yours, “you think I’m hot?”

“Nope.” you denied, a similar smirk playing on your face.

“You just said you do!”

“Don’t get cocky, I just said that to make you talk with me.” You shrugged, not really lying. This was the most conversation you had had with him. 

“What made you think I would respond to it? What if I was gay?” He snarked, finally turning to look at you.  Looking up, you nearly jumped, internally trying to calm your heart. His eyes weren’t anything you expected, you knew they were brown, but today they looked… different. More filled and dark, pupils nearly covering his hazel colored irises. His jaw was clenched, his entire posture catching you off guard, sending shivers up your spine. 

"then I have a feeling you would make a great friend." you said, hands cold as you held them under your desk. His eyes lightened a little, a small blush forming on his gaunty cheeks. 

"That's nice of you to say." He said, so quietly that you weren't sure you heard him right.

“Great.” You nodded, gulping and sitting back down. His posture slumped again, hand raising to answer the professor, as if nothing had just happened. 

Or maybe it hadn’t, you had just imagined it. Overanalyzed it. Spider-man’s origin story wasn’t a secret to anyone. You knew too many facts and now you were looking too much into the tiny gaps.

That was it. 

***

It was past midnight, and Peter was used to being tired.

With being Spider-Man, burning the ends was something he was- unfortunately accustomed to. He had always been a little unusual, sickly kid who spent more time in a hospital than a school, until a radioactive spider bit him- and that didn't make things any better.

People died, people left, muggers won and knives took residence in his body. But for some miraculous reason- one that left Tony Stark too stunned for words, Peter Parker never stopped being kind.

A mugger always found an opportunity to repent his sins, a murderer redeemed with a promise for a better life.

Villains in his life won more often than not, but Peter counted that as a victory. Until Mysterio flew into the picture. 

He didn’t need redemption for what he did though, all he did was save Europe, and what he got in return just… snapped something in him. 

And when he finally heard the satisfactory- sickly, crunch of breaking bones under his feet, he felt… he felt infinite. Spider-man always pulled his punches, but Peter Parker was tired of constantly being brought down by the people he respected in his life. 

He didn’t care what people thought of Spider-man, but as long as Matt “I’m a good lawyer” Murdock was willing to prove that Peter Parker didn’t kill Mysterio, he was good. 

The only problem was that he finally felt free. Like the air in his lungs had returned. He felt good and it made him sick to his stomach. 

Bad things happened in Peter Parker’s life, and it was about time he was paid back for it. 

Yeah, being Spider-man was exhausting, but so was being Peter Parker. 

But the thing about being him is that he found solutions. He had the blood and sweat of a scientist, so naturally, he was great at coming up with solutions. The day his head started to feel heavy? He cut his hair off to a buzz. His lungs felt suffocated? He filled them up with smoke. 

Being spider-man had its perks- he wasn’t at risk of cancer- heck, he had left that road behind the day he got bit by a damn spider. 

Besides, smoking on a lonely rooftop of a frat house felt cathartic, the spidey suit clinging to his frame, moist air not nearly as suffocating as the scalding taste of tar in his mouth. He was used to being alone these days, the only people he talked to was Ned, MJ and his family. 

At least he thought he only talked to them. 

“One of those cancer sticks takes six minutes of your life, I saw you smoke three of them in succession, that’s eighteen minutes.” You chirped, sitting beside him as he continued to stare ahead. 

“Did you get that from Criminal Minds?” He rolled his eyes, finally looking at your grinning face. You looked like you had woken up and come straight to the rooftop, hair ruffled and clothes wrinkled. 

"Welp, aren’t you educated in your pop culture?” You smirked, swinging your legs as you held onto the railing. You were grateful for the rail bars, the sheer height of the house’s roof (though not much) made you nervous.

Scoffing, he stabbed the bud beside him, clutching at the rails with a white knuckled grip, “how long have you been watching me, you creep?” He said without heat. His heart fluttered in a way that hadn't since the day with MJ at the London Bridge. 

You hummed in consideration, “about ten minutes now.” 

Snorting, he took a breath of fresh air, snuggling his face between the railings, looking up to see the barely peeking stars.

"What's your motive?" He asked finally, Spidey-sense alerting him of you suddenly going still, your eyes landing on him.

"I don't know. Maybe I just want to know you better. I've never really had a boyfriend before." You answered honestly, sighing at the words that came out of your mouth, whispering your next sentence, "and that also means that I'm still a virgin." 

(Lies. You weren’t proud of it, but you liked the way his eyes sparkled at the words.)

Peter's ears perked, a smirk claiming his face as he looked at you with hooded eyes, "what's so important about losing your virginity?" 

"It's just a phase of time, all the girls- you know? All they do is talk about how their first time was in the boy's bathroom at sixteen, or even freshman year of college." You shrugged, waving your hands animatedly, "when you're a girl in an American college, the hierarchy puts even more pressure on you than high school." 

"Well at least they lost it willingly. " He whispered, eyes downtrodden. Sometime between you talking and him listening, he had lit another cigarette, taking a drag and avoiding your gaze as you looked at him, realisation striking when you heard him confess. 

"I'm sorry." was all you could say, too stunned to speak as you contemplate the cruelty of this person who could ever take advantage of such an innocent soul. A sheet of depression wrapped around inside you, hands reaching his hunched frame but retrieving last minute when he involuntarily flinched. 

"it wasn't you who did it." He shrugged casually, "you- you don't have to shy from touching me though, it was a long time ago." 

Smiling, you rubbed his back slowly, getting up to sit right next to him so that the only gap between your thighs and his was the metal rail. 

"Do you wanna sneak into my dorm?" You whispered in his ear, discreetly sniffing the cologne on his neck, smiling teasingly as you opened your mom's Netflix account on your phone, showing him the home page as his eyes lit up. 

"hell yeah." is all he said, jumping up so fast it gave you a whiplash. 

"You're silly." You giggle, holding his biceps as he strutts on the roof. 

Your mind had been drifting to the brunette more often than not these days, the smell of his generic cologne intoxicating and distracting as hell. Smiling internally, you silently nodded, head on his shoulders as you saw his eyes gleaming under the screen of your laptop. 

***

The day after you had invited Peter to your dorm was the day you felt your heart racing like it was running for the gold. It had not stopped thumping, especially aching with the loud bass of the frat party you were at. 

"hot, but not my first choice." Your friend piped in, taking a sip from her solo cup. 

Squinting at her, you hid your face behind your cup, mouth quirking slightly, "why not? he's got it all- cute smile, hot bod, killer hair and smarty pants." 

humming, she placed her hands on the table, looking contemplatively at Peter- the guy in question you had been staring at for the past half hour.

You were at a party- not your typical scene, but you liked to attend once in a while to de-stress (or to keep yourself in the good books of the sorority, depending on who asked). You had to practically drag Peter out of the hermit cave he called his dorm, the sheer smell of sweaty recently legal boys nearly making you gag. 

He had resisted at first, finally caving when you threatened to burn his books with his own lighter. 

The party in itself wasn't much different from what Hollywood showed- people kissing, touching, drinking and slurring, lights blinding you, yet you found yourself in a corner with your friend, drinking the so-so labelled non-alcoholic punches.  

“I’ve heard stuff about him.” She whispered, raising her eyebrows as if indicating a conspiracy, making you huff.

"ooh yeah he saves cats from trees, so dangerous." You roll your eyes. 

“I don’t know girl, after the whole Mysterio shit went down, people talked. And they talked about how Spider-man stopped pulling his punches.” She shrugged. Looking at you, she leaned her head on your shoulder, circling her hand around yours. 

“I mean, if I had gone through half the shit he has, if sources are right,” You nod, biting your lip as you caught his eye from the other side of the room, shuddering at his gaze, “and that's a big "if"...  it’s only a matter of time he goes apeshit. Besides, he only does that to criminals.” 

“Yeah, maybe, whatever,” she shrugged, slightly slurring as she lifted her solo cup, “at least he’s hot, fuck those biceps.” sighing, she plopped her head against your shoulder, peppering tiny drunken kisses against your shoulder.

“How did you get drunk on a non alcoholic punch?!” You wondered, ignoring the goosebumps you felt on your skin, imagining how his lips would feel on your skin. 

"I snuck in whiskey." She smirked, lifting her empty solo cup and "drinking" from it. Plopping her against your arm as you lift her, your eyes flit over to his figure. 

His back was to you, but you could see the shiny lighter in his pocket, poking out of his jeans as he walked towards the back door.

His senses gave him trouble, you had read in a magazine. You weren’t keen on keeping up with tabloids, but Spider-Man had always intrigued you. Besides, the strobe lights were hurting you, and you had normal senses. 

So you could only imagine how he felt. 

You had the sudden urge to follow him, lifting your friend higher before finding her roommate and passing her over to her. You would’ve felt bad any other day, but you weren’t feeling very morally ideal today, the overly sweet punch and the blinding lights and the stupid lighter in Peter Parker’s pocket making you want to follow him everywhere he went.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beats of the party reverberating in your ears, dulling as you close the door behind you, only to be chest to chest with Peter, nearly jumping in the air as he spoke;

“Took you long enough.” His smile soft under the small moon light. He leaned against the concrete of the building, fidgeting with the lighter in his hand, the clicking noise distracting you from the weirdly hypnotic flame surrounding the invisible wick. 

"Were you waiting for me or were you eager to get out of the party?" You huffed, leaning against the wall, propping a leg behind you.

You saw him shrug, "both I guess? The lights were hurting my eyes and you looked like you needed help there." 

Chuckling, you leant your head on his shoulder, not unlike how your friend had. Inhaling his scent, you felt yourself calm at the mix of nicotine, a little bit of the Chemistry lab and just the general smell of college hobo who lives on instant ramen and advil- a smell you had associated with him. 

His scent was overwhelming, you noticed, like it was a bait to trap an animal, but comforting at the same time. You swore you felt a fire within you, a little hesitant but pulling you towards him nonetheless. 

Gosh how long you had waited and waited for this moment, uncertain if he was even interested in you enough to converse with you on a normal day when you were not high off frat house and catchy music swaying your hips.

The air was cold but humid at the same time, and you were itching to get out of your clothes. Parties weren't your thing, and Peter seemed to have the same idea as you.

Because next thing you knew, your lips were kissing his with a fiery haste, your fingers tangled in his soft curls as his hands roamed around your body in a haste that surprised you, nimble fingers scrambling to reach under your clothes, exploring your skin in a fiery hot touch. 

"Wanna take this inside?" He panted, eyes dark under the dim street light, one of your legs already jammed in his grip as he lifted you. 

You could already feel yourself getting wetter as he displayed his strength, lost in his soft, tiny lips. 

You'd heard a lot of stuff about Peter Parker- top of the class, hot lab assistant, shy nerd who rarely attended a social event. 

But this, this was something new, something you found yourself pleasuring in the notice that you'd be one of the few girls who's slept with Peter Parker, feeling the thrust of his member as he flopped you on some random kid's bed, hinges squeaking as you held on for dear life, nails probably leaving indents on his back. 

"You like this baby girl?" He whispered in your ears, nibbling on your sensitive lobe, eliciting a soft sound from you as he went on to bite your soft spot, "words sweetheart, use your words." 

"I like it, I like it so much Petey." You whimpered, bringing your face closer to his exposed neck, wringing your hands in his curls as he moaned softly, keeping a constant pace of his thrusts. 

"is this your… your first time?" He asked shifting ever so slightly so as to look at your scrunched face, only the contours of your face visible through the dim light of the night.

You thought about your first time back in senior year of high school, you hadn't exactly regretted it, but you weren't satisfied enough to call it your first time. 

Now, as Peter thrusted into you while looking at you with those innocent fucking doe eyes, your hands reaching up to caress his pink cheeks, you found yourself saying, "Yes" over and over again, groaning when you felt his dick hit a spot you didn't know he could reach, "Yes, Peter." 

***

"I've done things, you know." He said suddenly, the sound vibrating against your cheeks. 

"like rescue cats from trees or steal a gauntlet from a purple alien with a chin problem?" You asked, playing with the hem of the blanket. 

"I didn't know that part was public knowledge." He smirked, looking down at you.

"I'm great at guessing stuff." You muttered. 

"That's not what I'm talking about though." 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” You asked, snuggling into his chest as his hands caressed your neck, soft fingers sending ASMR worthy tingles up your head.

Kissing your forehead, he chuckled lightly, sighing back into the bed as it creaked under him, eliciting a giggle from you, “what are you talking about.”

Plopping on your elbows, your bare chest touched his, goosebumps forming on your skin as you kissed his lips, scratching his scalp with one hand, the other tracing circles around his nipples, “Mysterio, that was you, wasn’t it?” 

You could feel him tense up, hand tightening around your waist until you were sure you would be seeing bruises the next day, previous day's nicotine still present on his lips as he nipped yours with his teeth. 

Pushing him down slightly, you looked into his eyes, dark brown like the day you had seen in the classroom, pupils nearly taking up his entire irises. You heard him sigh again, biting his lips as blush rose up his cheeks, teeth grinding in frustration, “he was going to kill everyone I loved.” 

“I know baby, it’s alright,” you said softly, caressing his cheeks as his frustration kept building.

“It’s not okay.” He whispered, voice breaking as tears leaked from his eyes, falling down his cheeks as you rest your head on his chest, “Spider-man pulls his punches, he's the good guy." 

Nodding, you wiped his tears, kissing his lips softly as you tasted the salt, “Spider-man is allowed to be angry once in a while. He was going to hurt people, you saved all of those.”

“I could’ve saved him.But sometimes I feel I hurt people around me, it’s all I’m good at.” 

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I do! I lit a match and burned everything down” His shout startled you, his chest heaving under your hand as he stared at you with tears in his eyes, “and the worst part is that… that I enjoyed it.” 

“Peter-”

“I enjoyed hearing him struggle under me, I- I could hear his heart come to a stop, just like Mr. Stark’s had, right before Dr. Strange dragged him to Wakanda. I had to hear his heart stop beating, it was so loud- and- and all the awful things he said to me that if I was better then- then Tony would be alive- and, I just, I knew that when I felt his bones break under me- it felt so good. What kind of monster does that?” He was sobbing now, entire skin flushed, eyes scrunched as he hit his head on the pillow. 

Taking pity on him, you sit up, bringing the blanket closer to your chest and run your fingers through his scalp. You could see him relax, practically purring as you continued to untangle his fluffy curls. Steeling your voice, you cupped his cheeks, urging him to look at you, your eyes dead set as you smiled at him “You did what you had to Petey, if you hadn’t killed Mysterio that night, God knows where you would've been right now.”

Sniffling, he nodded under your touch, pulling you closer to his chest, "I like where I am right now." 

***

The emotional earthquake that was your night with Peter left you pondering, striding along the walls of your campus with an inane urgency to your steps. No one was around you but a few students who thought they were big shot drug dealers, not so subtly exchanging their poisons in the light of the night. 

The night was clear, for once, stars peeking from behind the night sky, glinting like actual diamonds. But you weren't there to appreciate the beauty of the Boston night sky. 

No, you were far from appreciating the beauty of the night sky. You would be lying to yourself if you didn't say that your conversation with Peter hadn't shaken you up. You weren't yourself, too lost in lust and desire to attend to your own words.

It was like a spell had broken that night, Peter's dark brown eyes too easy to get lost in- like a brewing storm that inevitably took you in.

Too late you had realised the weight of your own words to him, how so easily they had slipped into his desired tone. 

And it scared the shit out of you. 

"You've been ignoring me." He said casually, chewing on one end of his pencil. His eyes were on you, your heart pounding at his gaze.

"I've been busy." You speak, taking a breath. You couldn't help but feel weary, thinking of all the good things Spider-man has done, and all the bad. 

"I knew it." He whispered, making you snap your eyes to look at him. His jaw was clenched, pale face flushed with heat as he looked at you with the most heart wrenching expression.

"What are you talking about?" You gulped.

"I knew I shouldn't have fucking trusted you about everything." He said, shaking his head and walking away, "fuck you."

All you could do was stand still as his words sunk in. 

A/N: Lemme know your thoughts! :D

tbh i think marvel should give hank a run that is just him getting therapy. maybe with another character who has bipolar- wait i just realised that other than hank, only nadia has bipolar in comics... oops. though i do think there are characters who show those traits anyway i got off track my og question was going to be do you any run that deals with hanks mental health issues ?

EXACTLY ur so right we do need a run that tackles hank's bipolar disorder, schizophrenia & paranoia in a respectful but frank way. personally i've always imagined hank as a character who'd struggle with therapy (he absolutely hates to ask for help and he so rarely comes forward over how he's feeling, so i don't imagine he'd react well to therapy), but i'd love to see him join a support group of bipolar people like him.

in a few post house of m runs i think a few comics did describe wanda as being bipolar, but a lot of this was routed in ableism much like the run itself 😔 it is a shame though the amount of mentally ill & neurodivergent characters marvel has is so low, and a lot of them are either morally grey or villains, or at least villains when their mental health is at the forefront. nadia so far is the only character to really escape this but a lot of that probably has to do with her being a newer character and so avoiding the events that make these other charas villains.

unfortunately there's not a lot op! two really spring to mind; avengers a.i, obviously, but also avengers #379 to #382. i can't find this mini series actually scanned anywhere on my usual 🏴‍☠️ sites but it's part of the ant-man / giant-man collection called "growing pains". while janet is the character in this series going to therapy, it still does a lot to reference and be relatively kind to hank's issues with mental health and how that manifests in his superheroism & scientific endeavours. also bill is there and is very tired of putting up with hank's shit, which i like. the actual plot is weirdly similar to that one comic where peter parker's jizz kills MJ but you don't need to worry about that. it's written but NOT drawn by george perez :)

ant-man: season one also references hank's paranoia & how that impacts his relationships a lot. its definitely not my favourite of hank backstory's (he's made the son of a rich entrepreneur rather than the working class icon that i know, for one) but i liked its explicit take that hank's paranoia both helped him uncover egghead's scheme, but also made it really difficult for him to build genuine relationships with bill. the way his father and egghead kept gaslighting him felt true to me too.

west coast avengers kind of does too, but the number of hank focused issues are few & far between so if you're okay with digging through a lot of clint & bobbi and simon feeling sorry for himself there's always that. issue #17-#18 i believe explicitly has hank attempt suicide, but some magic weird lady shows up and tells him not to. if anyone has any further recs please feel free to send, alas again the number of comics tackling hank's issues in a half respectful way are hard to find.

Dragon Prince/Marvel Mashup

Just a an idea I had about the characters from the Dragon Prince in the Marvel universe, and how the roles would change.

Callum Parker/Spider-Man

When Callum was bitten by a strange spider, he soon discovered he had gained the amazing abilities of a spider.

Remembering how he lost his mother at a young age and wanted to live up to her selfless example without endangering his remaining family, he donned a masked costume and gadgets fasioned from materials salvaged from around his stepdads company to help others. Little did he know his life was about to get even more complicated.

(I figured that since Callum already endured tragedy he would step into the role of Spider-Man much sooner then Peter did)

Ezran/Future Spider-Man

Though a wise and caring soul, the prestige of being the son of a important industialist like Harrow, made it hard for him to make friends beyond outside of his family and Dr. Virans children, Claudia and Soren, and the mounting pressures of knowing of the power he will one day have, make him long for a normal simple childhood but he understands none the less thanks to a lesson taught to his brother by their late mother, that with great power comes great responsibility, so he's determined to have it when that power comes. But it won't just be as a CEO.

(Since PS4 Spider-Man had both Miles and Peter working together, practically like brother, this just made sense)

Rayla/Moonshadow

Protégé of the infamous vigilante Runaan, the Moonknight who she had studied under for years. She was a savant when it came to agility and melee combat but when it came time to implement his kind of justice while infiltrating a company he suspected of illicit dealings she couldn't bring herself to kill a unfortunate security guard who happened upon them, blowing the mission.

Now on her own and somewhat lost about her direction in life, but still ingrained with a desire to fight injustice, she took upon a mission of her own to guard the city from the criminal underworld, eventually crossing paths with Spider-Man, who after a brief confrontation over methods, became fast friends, and in time realizing they both felt somthing more for the other.

(Think a more heroic Black Cat but with knives)

Viren/Grey Goblin

One of Katlolinustries greatest scientific minds with an unfortunate tendacy to cut corners, morality wise, to achive results to the dismay of his boss and best friend Harrow who felt his "creative solutions" causdd more problems than they solved. Desperate to prove to Harrow, and himself, the merits of his questionable research into a chemical performance enhancer, and beat out the companies competitors, he recklessly tested it on himself.

The result was a stronger and faster body but also a deranged split personality called; The Grey Goblin who equipped with corrupted innovations of his began targeting Katolindustires compition and Virans persoanl rivals and becoming the arch enemy of heroes everwhere.

(I was originally going to make him fulfill the role of the Lizard, being a teacher of Callums but then I remembered who else liked to talk to sinister people in mirrors)

Harrow/Iron Man

Head of Katolindustries and secretly the superhero Iron-Man.

After the tragic loss of his beloved wife Sarai, Harrow became obsessed with taken revenge on those who had taken her from him and their sons, having company make weapons to be used against them, but as ths years past he came to regret his vendetta as he saw his inventions fall into the wrong hands too often.

Determined to make amends he stopped all weapon research despite the protests of his friend Dr. Viran but feeling it wasnt enough after seeing the harm done first hand he secretly built a suit of advanced armour to combat the many villains in the world, equipped with the a helpful AI named the "Programmed Interactive Personality" or P.I.P.

Ironically he would not be the only member of his family to become a superhero.

(Honestly, who else could he be?)

---

Thats all I've got so far, but I definetly think Claudia would be their Scarlet Witch (Onyx Witch.) equivalent, Soren a cross between Flash Thompson and Harry Osborne, Lujanne the Sorceress Supreme, (making Aaravos the Baron Mordo) Nyx is the Vulture, Aanya would be their Cpt. America, (with Gren and Corvus as her Bucky and Falcon) and Janai would be the Gold Panther.

Hello (New) World!

He all! I have some Sahar that isn't angst! It's her intro into the cinematic universe. So I hope you all enjoy!

word count: 5.3k and no warnings

The cacophony of New York pounds against Sahar’s head, her eyes blinking rapidly trying to adjust to the sunlight. She groans, moving to sit up, inspecting herself for any injuries, How long was I knocked out for?. The red splattered across the gold and black of her suit looks to all be from someone else, yet when Sahar looks around the alleyway she sees none painting the walls, Either Marc got into the habit of cleaning up or he held back his punches. She purses her lips trying to make out the writing on the green dumpster in front of her.

“Queens? When did we-?” Sahar bolts up, boots scraping as she looks around more fervently, “He wouldn’t have just left me behind. No, no, something's wrong.” The flashing of lights grabs her attention at the alley entrance, three college kids smiling and whispering to themselves, “Hey!” She calls out stepping forward, the three of them taking a step back, “Hey wait! I need you to tell me if you saw someone with me.” All three look at one another before shaking their heads, “No? No one? Tall guy in a white costume, matching cloak and hood,” she points to her forehead, “A crescent moon on his face.”

“Uhh, no,” one of them says slowly, “but that does sound like a pretty cool get up.”

“Why are you covered in blood?” Another chimes in, his eyes roaming her for any injuries, “Are you hurt at all?”

“Yeah? Were you helpin’ Spiderman or something?” 

The first one to have spoken elbows his friend, “No, clearly she’s a new hero. And a morally grey one at that it seems.”

Sahar rubs her temple through the black and gold cowl, “You know what I don’t have time for this,” she pushes past them finally walking along the street, stopping as she looks at the flower shop across the way. “What in the-,” she looks up at the small green signs hanging on the intersection, she’s sure that she knows the street she’s on, her old job was just three blocks over. “Hey when did Cartie’s become a flower shop?”

“What do you mean?” One of the kids stands next to her, leaning to get a closer look at the buildings across the way, “It’s always been Reyna’s Flowers.”

She shakes her head, “No it used to be a little sandwich shop, made some of the best meatball subs.”

“Look lady, I’ve lived here my whole life and that place has always been a flower shop.”

Her skin crawls and prickles, a feeling she hasn’t had since her run in with Zodiac. “No,” she breathes out, eyes catching a billboard advertising a company she’s never heard of, yet the brand matches the phones people are using all around her, “Something’s-. Something’s wrong. What’s-. What’s happened?” Sahar hails the first taxi that’ll stop, instructing them to take her to upper Manhattan, the radio discussing a recent attack on a bridge in the direction of JFK airport. “Hey uhm do you-. Do you mind turning it up a little bit?”

“A new villain has arrived in New York this afternoon, targeting the recently revealed Peter Parker a.k.a Spiderman. No one knows who this new threat is or what he wants but that hasn’t stopped the public from naming him Doctor Octopus due to the four robotic arms on his back.”

“Man this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” the cab driver says, turning the radio back down.

She arches a brow, “He’s attacked here before though? Was that woman new? Doc Ock’s attacked Peter plenty of times.”

“Nah lady, first time I’m hearin’ about him.” His dark brown eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror, arching a brow seeing her take the cowl off, “Hey uh, what’s your opinion on Spidey anyway?”

“He’s great at saving people, though a tad too morally good for me.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, “Morally good? You call killin’ Mysterio morally good?”

“He-. He what now?” The hell kind of upside down world is this? Next they’ll be saying Magneto’s the president.

“Yeah it was all over the news.” He turns to face her with a knitted brow, “How we found out Spider-Man’s just some teenager. Mysterio made a video in London telling everyone so we’d all know who his killer was. Took him out with a drone strike.”

She sits back, crossing her arms with a furrowed brow, “Spiderman would never do that. And besides, wasn't Mysterio supposed to be in jail? How’d he get out and all the way to London?”

The driver turns to look at her, when they stop at an intersection, “Mysterio never went to jail, ma’am. He was a hero and Spidey killed him in cold blood.” He looks her up and down just as the light changes to green, ”Hey uh, you sure you don’t want me to take you to get some clothes first?”

Sahar finally looks at the taxi license and paperwork, shoulders sagging when the name isn’t Jake Lockley, “Thanks but I’ll be alright. Just get me to upper Manhattan, please.” He gives a shrug letting the car fill with silence as she looks out the windows recognizing many of the buildings but none of the signs or people she knew. Her chest turns hollow, hugging herself to keep the pieces together, if this was some trick of the latest foe they sure knew how to play on her fears. She just has to find someone or some place she knows, surely everyone can’t be gone. Sahar is grateful when the man takes pity on her and accepts the small amount of cash she has on her once dropping her off. 

The neighborhood surrounding her no longer offers the same comfort she’d grown so used too as each shop has changed and so have the people. Sahar finds herself bumping into what she assumes to be a well off business man, nabbing his billfold. “Least I was right about him being well off,” she mumbles counting out the hundreds, “Hopefully this’ll be enough to get me by until I can figure out just what the hell is happening.” Her walking slows feeling the eyes of the locals follow her every move. She looks down at her still bloody outfit, “Probably should take that driver's advice and get something new,” she nods to herself walking into the first second hand shop two doors down.

She brushes off the dark jeans, just slightly too small navy shirt, and black canvas jacket, the new backpack that carries her bloodied outfit growing heavier with each step of streets with familiar names but none of the landmarks she once knew. She makes it four blocks seeing the bodega she once worked at, Works?, everything else is the same, just the name changed. Of course I couldn’t be that lucky, Sahar thinks pushing down the small cracks of hope forming. She lets out a sigh looking down five buildings to an empty white trimmed store front. “The Mission,” her feet pick up speed, smile falling as she gets closer, “No.” 

Her fingers trace along the splintering plywood that are in place of windows, throat closing seeing the fading painted letters of an acupuncture clinic, chest aching as she takes in the desolate state of the interior. Trash, graffiti, broken glass, and overturned furniture all in the place of the warm entrance that led to a darkened room in the back where Marc sat in what she had equated to be a throne when she first saw it, much to his affectionate dismay, a statue of the Moon God looming behind him of him, a place where he would listen to the people’s grievances and help to the best of his abilities. Truly being a protector of those that walk in the night. A task she soon joined him on when he was called away to help with other heroes or just needed to rest. She never had the same skill as he did, but she knew enough to put fear into those that needed it, it made him proud….had made him love her more.

Her hand falls back to her side, stuffing it into the pockets of her jacket making her way back to the bodega. She’s waiting to purchase the small meal when the paper catches her eye, the headline unshocking when compared to the date.

November 25, 2024

Sahar sets down the items in her hand flipping through all the papers and magazines, It has to be a misprint. I-I can’t have been unconscious for that long. Each publication she scours through all ends in the same year, Sahar’s head starts spinning. Nothing is right, everything is wrong, and she doesn’t even know where to begin in looking for some kind of help. One person, there’s one person she can trust, “Sir,” she demands of the young clerk, no older than sixteen, “do you know what happened to Mr. Knight? His mission is gone?”

The clerk and customer in front of her looked at one another confused, “Who?”

“Mr. Knight, protector of those who travel in the night. Went by Moon Knight for a long time.” The two shake their heads, “Has-. Has there ever been a Moon Knight?”

“If he’s around, then he’s gotta be new,” the clerk says slowly, reaching for the phone. 

Sahar’s jaw sets tossing a twenty on the counter storming out of the shop, “I may not know what the fuck is going on, but there’s gotta be at least one person who does.” She quickly flags down a taxi, “Take me to one seventy-seven Bleecker street, and step on it,” Hopefully he’s home. There’s no reason for him not to be….if he isn’t then there’s something worse happening.

The doors to the Sanctum Sanctorum open automatically for her, the house empty and mostly quiet, as she follows the sound of voices lower into the building. Her half prepared speech running in her mind again and again, readying to fight just to sway the Sorcerer Supreme to not find her crazy and allow for three minutes of his time. She slows hearing three other voices that she can’t place bantering with Strange. 

“Look you guys have all you need to fix Peter’s mess,” the older gentleman tells them, Sahar pressing herself against the wall peeking around the corner, He certainly dosen’t look like Strange, at least in the face. His fashion though. “Just get them down here into these cells and I can do something to reverse this. Send them all back home where they belong.”

“Technically, you performed the spell,” the only girl among the group starts, Sahar smirking at the conviction of how she speaks her mind, “so this is also your fault. Meaning you should be helping us.”

“I am helping you. Look,” the sorcerer gestures to something just out of her line of sight, “I’ve gotten some of them rounded up for you. All you have to do is get the rest and bring them here.” She watches as the sparks gather around his hands, a set of rings forming to wrap around who Sahar can only guess is Peter, just way too young. “Here. All you have to do is get a clear shot and it’ll automatically send them into one of these cells.”

“Then you just send them home, back to their universe,” Peter asks one more time, Sahar rolling her eyes, Yeah Peter. Pay-. Wait “their universe”? Is that why this place is all wrong? I’m just in a different universe….

“Yes, then I will send them home, where they belong.” He waves them away, Sahar retreating to a dark corner as they pass her by. Guess the best course of action is to just wait it out here. It’ll get solved in no time. If I am in the wrong universe then I should be sent back with the rest of them. She looks back at the cells scrunching her nose, I’m not staying in one of those though, she snorts making her way to the top floor, I’m no criminal….well, mostly.

The only benefit Sahar had found while sleeping on top of Strange’s house was that she had a clear view of the news, the images telling all that she needed to know. Spider-Man was still a boy scout and there were two others just like him, but none were her Peter Parker. She stood having changed out of her street clothes, preparing for the possibility of being dropped off somewhere dangerous, the live feed showing Strange enter the scene. Finally! Now do your thing magic man, She could feel the small prickles of static around her, closing her eyes, bouncing on her toes, thinking of nothing but his face, of his smile, of his humor. Marc, just everything that made him Marc Spector. When the static faded she opened her eyes….

….To the same view she had closed them too. 

“Are you fucking kidding me! Seriously! I felt it!” Sahar kicked an old metal bucket, the sound reverberating in the early morning. She grumbled making her way down the mansion back to its front door, which now decided to lock itself, “Great. Of course. Of course they’d be locked.” She takes a deep breath, fists pounding away at the door, “I know you’re in there Strange! I need to talk to you! Open the door!” She didn’t know how long she had stood there, not that it mattered as it was long enough for her hands to start aching from all the banging that it allowed her to almost hit an intern when the door finally opened. She pushed past them planting herself in the middle of the atrium, “STRANGE! Strange! I need to talk to you! Right! Now!”

“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” he says behind her, Sahar narrowing her eyes, turning on her heel to face him, “However I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“We have,” he arches a brow, “Sort of. Look, something is wrong and I don’t think I'm supposed to be here.” He crosses his arm, tilting his head, “I think I’m from another universe. Like those other Spider-Mans.”

“Didn’t-. Shouldn’t the spell have taken you back?” He begins to mumble steps of the spell holding his chin.

“Yeah you would think, Stephen, but I-I don’t know what happened. You must have messed up somewhere.” 

“You think that maybe you’re just a little confused?”

“Are you trying to insinuate that I’m crazy?” She growls out.

Stephen holds his hands up, “I was just wondering if you had considered every possibility. I didn’t mean any insult.”

Her eyes narrow, “Good. Lest you forget you’re only a neurosurgeon, not a psychiatrist.” He cocks a brow, eyes following as Sahar starts to pace, “Look all I know is I woke up and found myself in an alley bombarded with people and places that weren’t the same even if it was the same name. Like your guy’s Spider-Man, his suit isn’t the same and he doesn’t sound like my Peter Parker.”

Strange stiffens, eyes widening, “You-you know Spider-Man’s secret identity?”

“Yeah, Peter Parker. In his twenties, brown hair, married to a redhead Mary Jane, had a tech company and then lost said tech company, man that was a whole thing.” She stops, snapping her fingers, “Oh and he mentored the new Spider-Man, Miles.”

He lets out a breath, “Right, okay. Well it seems we find ourselves in a predicament. Let me just-.” She steps back on instinct, “I’m not going to hurt you I just want to see what else might be happening.” She gives a small nod, the sparks of his magic envelop her a moment, Stephen frowning, “Interesting.”

She shakes off the lingering sensations of the magic off her skin, “What’s interesting?”

“Well you are from another world so we know the where, but you didn’t come here via my magic.”

“Uhm, impossible. I’ve had to.”

“Well a little bit I can feel it but not enough to have brought you over.” He hums a moment, “It's as if my magic acted like a beacon of some sort.”

“So….?”

“So I can’t send you back.”

Sahar crosses her arms, “Excuse me?”

“I can’t send you back,” he tries to hold back the shrug that comes naturally, anger sparking like a wildfire in Sahar’s veins.

“The hell you mean you can’t send me back?!” His eyes widen a moment when she grabs hold of his shirt, “You just sent back all those people back to their worlds, so just send me back!”

“What I did for them was a spell reversal, like an undo if you will,” her eyes narrow, Strange gently placing his hands on hers, “Since that’s not what brought you here I’d have to create something from scratch.”

Sahar’s grip loosens as he pushes her away, “So then just do it. I know you can.”

“Look, lady-.”

“Sahar,” she growls out.

“Sahar, even if I could create something I have no way to know if I’m getting you home.” She rolls her eyes, pacing, “Look I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what happened with this brush of the multiverse and you want me to just try and guess where you’re from?” Stephan holds a hand up when she’s just about to speak, “It's hard enough to navigate this universe with how expansive it is along with all the planes here alone, to navigate the multiverse would be near impossible.”

“You’re the Sorcerer Supreme, Strange, you should be able to do that! The Strange I know could find a way to make it possible.”

“Firstly, I’m not Sorcerer Supreme any more. Secondly, I think it’s advisable to ask someone else that might know of a way to get you back home. Surely you know of others from your world that might be here.”

“Great idea,” she gives him a smile, “Let me just look up people whose real names might not even be the same here, because clearly you’re exactly the same as my earth and know all the same information.”

His jaw sets letting out a sharp breath, “You can tone down the sarcasm.”

“And you could do to be more helpful,” she grumbles, “But you see how that plan can go awry? Many of the people I know may still be underground or just starting out, and admittedly I don’t know everyone’s true identity.” Sahar paces, snapping her fingers as she hits her other palm against them, “Can you do tracking spells? Ones that don’t require physical pieces of the person.”

“Do I just have a sign that says ‘Sorcerer for Hire’?” Sahar growls, “You just saw what happened not even two hours ago? I’m not really in the mood to help anyone for their own gain.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You were just willing-!”

“Because I thought that you were part of that kid’s mistake. I had an obligation at that point in time, now though? I don’t.”

“I. Don’t. Belong. Here!”

“And how do I know that you won’t make the same mistakes? You could make things worse.”

“I’m just asking for a tracking spell to find someone to get me home! How could I possibly fuck that up?”

“Do you want a list?” Sahar launches at him, step locking in place becoming surrounded by a circle of golden sparks, “How about this, before we turn to something that can go horribly wrong we try searching for them in a more concrete way.” Sahar grinds her teeth a moment, giving a small nod, “I know some people with access to a lot of information. Just give me the names and I can see what they can find.”

“Fine.” 

Sahar shakes out her limbs when Strange releases her, “Now give me some names.”

“Dr. Reed Richards and Doctor Victor von Doom should be top priority in your search.”

“You really want me to look for someone named Victor von Doom?”

“That’s his name, I didn’t pick it. He’d be from Latvia though, narrow down the search.”

“Right because there’s a lot of people out there with the last name Doom. Is he even trustworthy?”

“Eh, helping me can stroke his ego a bit I’m sure. Oh! Captain Britain! He might be able to help also.”

Stephan blinks a few times, “I’m sorry there’s a Captain Britain.”

“Yeah. More chill than Captain America, though that’s a low bar to achieve,” Sahar can’t hide the sneer that crosses her features, “But his name is also Brian Braddock. I think those three are a good place to start.”

“And if they don’t get you the results you want? Do you have anyone else?”

“One, but that’s a bit of a long shot. Gods can be….”

“If it's a god then we'll have to use a spell to track them. If they’re in space though I’m not-.”

“He’s a more earthly based god, don't worry.”

“Right,” he says slowly, “Well let's see if these turn up something good first.” When he turns away from her, Sahar feels a chair take out the back of her knees, sliding towards the library, “Stay put and try not to make a mess of my library.”

She huffs, crossing her arms, sucking on her teeth as she looks around the library from her seat. Pretty big library. Strange’s never let me come back here before, Sahar turns eyes scanning the titles, not noticing any discernible way of organizing, ducking when a book flies past her. Her eyes narrow, catching one of the interns holding back a laugh, “How is this place organized?”

“If I’m being honest,” they say with a shrug, turning back to the cart of books, “I’m not sure. But if you’re looking for something specific, all you gotta do is think and walk.”

“Think and walk,” Sahar stands, “Any particular direction?”

“You just have to trust.”

“Yeah that’s not going to happen.”

The intern gives a shrug, “Suit yourself.” They disappear without a trace, lost among the shelves and shelves of books, leaving Sahar alone drumming her fingers on her upper arm. Just think and walk, She glances around again, making her way to the closest shelf, the titles all in a language she doesn’t know, Might be broken. Sahar shakes her limbs out taking a deep breath, At worst you end up back here because there’s nothing out there. Closing her eyes Sahar lets only one thought, one image play in her mind, stepping carefully until she feels the toe of her shoe tap against a wall. 

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted with tomes of varying ages, some still simple papyrus loosely bound with leather strings, others with handwriting that curves in ways she only ever associated with renaissance faires, but all of them have a common thread of being associated with Egypt to some degree. Her fingers trace along the spines scanning for anything in english and then if they have ties to the moon. She’s near the bottom of the bookcase when her eyes land on a dark leather spine, a silver crescent moon gleaming at the top and Khonshu Vol. 1 stamped just below. “Really, you need more than one volume?” Sahar rolls her eyes, grasping at the book along with the one marked volume two, the only other piece of material left with any recognizable symbols to her behind as she found it written in hieroglyphics.

When she turns back to where she believes herself to have come from, her eyebrows raise finding she’s a short distance from the table Strange sat her at. “Bet if I try to come back though I wouldn’t be able to find anything.” The books create an audible thud as she settles herself to make her way through the material. The first volume contains myths, legends, and what one must do to properly serve the Moon God, everything she already knows. The last chapter becomes of interest as it begins to go over the author’s theories on just what the god can do and how one can become its vessel. 

She smirks, setting it aside, eyes glancing down at her open backpack and back up around her. The library feels and seems empty, though Sahar knows better than to assume that Strange doesn’t have eyes here. If it fell in there by accident though and she didn’t notice….

Sahar places the book close to the edge of the table, opening the second book, face falling when she’s greeted with plastic covered papyrus alternating with hand written pages of what she assumes to be a translation of the pages prior. It's a total of twenty pages before there’s a note in the back stating that the main bulk of the book had been stolen. “Are you fucking serious right now? Stolen?” She scans the pages she does have, seeing that they’re nothing more than an introduction and review of information from volume one with only the page of chapter titles indicating that this was the volume to have provided the most answers. “This is just someone’s incomplete dissertation!” Sahar slams the book closed in time to the door opening. She sits straighter, looking at the books, Fuck it, she thinks as she stuffs them into her bag pushing it just under the table by the time that Strange comes into her line of sight.

“Did you read anything interesting,” he asks, Sahar’s heart beginning to pound, his head nodding in the direction of the stack of books that had been there since she first sat down.

She shakes her head, “Did you find any of the names I gave you?”

The sorcerer gives a quick nod, “Only one name but I wouldn’t even bother trying to get a hold of him.”

“Let me guess Doom,” she says with a sigh.

“Yeah. He’s got a lot of security, wealth, and political barriers that will keep you away,” he steps closer tossing down two files, “The other one took a little bit of time but as far as the world’s concerned, he’s dead.” Her brow knits as she opens up the files seeing Dr. Richard’s face, almost like the one she knew, “He and a small team were making a space trip and their spacecraft got hit with a pretty big blast of solar radiation.”

“Of course it did,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “The logo on his uniform is SHIELD right?” He nods, “Are you able to ask them?”

“SHIELD fell,” Sahar’s eyes snap open, going wide, “back in twenty-fourteen, any agents that were a part of them either died, went into hiding, or turned out to be Hydra.”

“Color me surprised,” she rolls her eyes and lowers her head, “Though it is a bit surprising that it fell completely after that. It didn’t where I’m from.”

“You had a bunch of Hydra agents undercover too?”

She smiles, chuckling, “Yeah. Steve Rogers is still trying to atone for that.” She puts her hand up stopping Strange from speaking, “It's a long story and still a bit hard for me to wrap my mind around your world’s worship of him.”

“Right,” he says slowly, “Anyway, it seems like neither of them are going to be able to help you. So we go to plan B.”

She looks up at him hopeful, “You mean-?”

“Yes. We will search for your god.” He waves her to follow him back out to the main foyer, Sahar quickly stuffs the folders in her bag, running to catch up. “Now you’ll have to do exactly as I say. You have to be very specific and hopefully know what they look like.” She nods along, Strange stopping just before the front door, “I’m also going to need some specific symbols so hopefully we have the same god.”

“I can’t imagine there being too much of a difference between gods.”

“Well you never know,” he waves his hands, various symbols starting to light and encircle him. “Okay now which god are we looking for.”

“The moon god, Khonshu,” she states, rolling her shoulders back.

The symbols fade, Strange’s face falling, “Excuse me? Which god did you just say?”

“Khonshu.”

His eyes go wide, shaking his head, “I can’t help you, I'm sorry.”

“Wait. What? What do you mean?” Her head spins as he starts to push her towards the door.

“I thought you were going to name someone like Thor, Loki, hell even an Eternal,” Sahar fights trying to turn and face him, “But not him. So goodbye, good luck, and don’t ask me to help you find him ever again please.”

“But I need to find-.”

He opens the door, Sahar stumbling on the steps, “You want some advice? Don’t go seeking him out. Not unless you want trouble. I would think you’d know that already.”

Stephen slams the door, Sahar running up to bang on the door, “Hey wait! Strange! Strange, open this damn door! STRANGE!” Her hands start to bruise by the time her throat burns and she finally leans against the door catching her breath. “Looks like you’re on your own….again,” Sahar kicks the door once more, “So time to buck up.” She makes her way to the closest cafe, frowning at her dwindling funds, “Guess we should put getting a job at the top.” What kind of job should I get? Or at least make myself qualified for?, She wonders, browsing the classifieds of an abandoned newspaper, Something ideally to help keep an eye on the world. Many of the jobs she’s circled involve sitting at a desk or overnights, none of them feeling like something she should be doing, Though maybe until I get some papers none of these will pay under the table.

“Today's top story,” a gruff voice says on the tv hanging across from her, sounding very familiar to her ears, “Spider-Man has once again made it harder for our police force to take down the criminals of this city.” Sahar chuckles seeing the face of this world’s J. Jonah Jameson, Almost exactly like the one from back home, “How did he do this? Well, New York, in Spider-Man’s ‘attempt’ to stop some supposed robbers, he caused an accident stopping the Goodwill truck these men were driving.”

“Guess you’re the same in every universe,” she mumbles, taking a sip of the chocolate cinnamon latte.

“Because of that, our good men and women in blue were tied up in cleaning that mess.” She laughs watching as his face grows more red and papers begin to crumple in his hands, “And where was Spider-Man? Huh? Answer me that! Where was he? He made the mess, he surely can clean it up!” 

Sahar shakes her head, the yelling becoming background noise as she looks at the paper. “You think a reporter like that would have other topics to speak on with everything else going on in the world….,” slowly the pieces come together and she looks around for someone with a laptop. Quickly she asks to use it, resorting to asking for a library when she’s rejected. “I may not be a reporter,” she tells herself leaving the cafe, “but I can surely make him a global name.” Sahar smiles to herself jumping onto the subway, Beyond that I can easily keep an ear to the ground and gain access to many buildings and people without having to resort to methods that end in legal troubles. Her fingers slip into the pocket of another man from Wall Street, getting enough funds for a few days if she plays it right, Jameson get ready New York’s Top Marketer five years in a row is about to make you a global household name.

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

COLD COFFEE - WINTERIRONSPIDER VAMPIRE!AU

Summary: “How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” 

.

Notes: Hi everyone! I've been working on this one shot since MAY! At a whopping 24890 words, it’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written on my own! It's also probably my favourite fic I have /ever/ written because it's the most self indulgent one and I had to take breaks in between writing cause it was too much omg. Half of this one shot is plot. The other half is smut. Good luck! I'm actually quite anxious sharing this, since it's so personal to me. I hope you all enjoy! <3

-Lien

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Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Consensual Mind Control, Vampire!AU, Slight Dubcon at first but it’s Consensual Sex, NSFW, Smut/Fluff/Angst, Vampire!Bucky, Vampire!Tony, Human!Peter, Poor Peter, Dream Sex, Masturbation, Shower Masturbation, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Oral, Dirty Talk, Morally Grey Characters, Rough Sex, BDSM, Master/Slave

Read Cold Coffee on AO3!

Or on Wattpad!

Peter Benjamin Parker The dog area in Central Park is the only place where Peter gets to unwind after a long day of doing unsatisfying labour in a commercial bakery. His alarm went at three this morning and with the other job he has lined up for tonight, he’s fairly sure he won’t see his bed until that exact same time, twenty-four hours later. He’s used to it at this point. His weekends simply look like this. Bakery work during the week and extra waiting jobs at events on Friday and Saturday night. Sleep all Sunday and start the grind again on Monday morning, three AM.  Since the dog area is right next to the bakery, he usually spends about half an hour there after work, just to relax for a bit. Get his smile back on his face. And though he would love to go straight home to crash and nap before tonight’s gala, he wants to give some well-deserving furry friends some pats. Right when he decides he wants to go home to get his needed between-sleep, someone screams. “MY DOG!” Peter looks up, only to see a large Dobermann jump the fence and make a break for it. Before Peter could put his thoughts in one line, he’s already on his feet, leaping over the fence himself and initiating the chase to help the owner get their dog back.  The dog is fast. Faster than Peter’s legs can go. His lungs ache in his chest and his reaching is pointless. He’ll never catch this dog. As a last resort, he shouts at the people in front of the four-legged rocket.  “Somebody, please, stop that dog!” Most people ignore Peter, as is to be expected. It’s still New York. One man, however, turns. He’s in the middle of the path and the dog is headed straight for him. His half long, brown hair is tucked neatly behind his ears and he’s wearing a long, stylish, wool trench coat and leather gloves. His eyebrows raise and the coffee he holds is quickly discarded; dropped on the ground and spilling everywhere, as he braces himself for the coming impact.  The Dobermann tries to swiftly evade the man. Peter blinks once and suddenly, the dog is stuck between the man’s arms, his grip tight. The dog yelps and struggles, baring his teeth with a growl. Peter slows down his pace slightly, the exhausted muscles in his body grateful that he can stop sprinting. The man flicks his head, the hair behind his ear now covering his face and soon after, the dog’s tail shoots between its legs, its growls turning into soft whines. When Peter’s close enough, his jog turns into a walk. “Thank you so much,” he exclaims through his panting. The man turns his head up to look at Peter and something seems to flash over his face for a split second. It’s a strange expression Peter’s never seen before and a strange tingle settles in his body. The unreadable look soon turns into a kind smile. The man’s grin is wide and white, with defined canine teeth. He has a short beard, well taken care of, and the bluest eyes. “This yours?” He asks as he slowly pets the dog, who’s gone strangely quiet. He stands up and hands the leash to Peter, who doesn’t notice the man’s touch lingering. He’s too caught up in the adrenaline of the chase, his heart still beating fast, pumping his blood through his body at a rapid pace in order to keep up with the sudden need for fuel. His stomach screams, having been empty so long. He shouldn’t have chased this dog, he didn’t have the energy for it. Yet he did. Simply because it’s the right thing to do. “No-” Peter scoffs a laugh, shaking his head and clenching the leash in one hand. “Well, I, eh-” He frowns, pointing back towards the dog area with both thumbs, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in as few words as possible. “Tori!” A woman shouts. She approaches the two men and the dog quickly, and lets out an exasperated, loud sigh. “Thank, God! You caught him- Thank you, boy!” Peter turns with an apologetic look on his face to tell the woman it was actually the other man who caught the dog, but he speaks first. “It was a spectacular catch, ma’am. He’s quite athletic.” “But-” “Ooh, thank you, thank you!” The woman wraps her arms around Peter, who tenses up and stares at the man wide-eyed, lips pressed on top of each other. When she finally lets go of Peter, she takes the leash out of his hand. “Have a wonderful day, boy.” “So, that’s it?” The man scoffs, causing the woman to look at him confused. “You’re just going to take the dog and leave?” “Well, it’s my dog.” “This young man just caught your dog for you. And all you say is thank you. Don’t you think he deserves a reward?” “Excuse you?” The lady straightens her back, her posture turning defensive. “It’s okay, sir, please,” Peter turns to the man with a pleading look in his eye and, once again, before he can think about what he’s doing, he rests his hand on the man’s upper arm. A shiver shoots through Peter’s entire being as he stares at the intense expression on the man’s face. Their gazes are locked and Peter’s thoughts cloud momentarily. Time seems to halt and the man speaks under his breath. “Let go.” Peter blinks a few times and it takes a second before he realizes he has pulled his arm back in. His thumb caresses his fingers on the same hand, the feeling of the man’s wool coat still lingering on the tips. The humming background noise of New York City fills Peter’s ears again and part of him wonders what happened. When he completely returns to earth, he turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- Peter shivers when there’s a sudden cool breath tickling the back of his neck. He pivots quickly and has to tilt his head to look into a pair of icy blue eyes. The man smiles kindly and Peter subconsciously mirrors him; the corners of his mouth curling up to match the man’s expression. The strange, floaty feeling returns slightly. Something in the back of Peter’s head tells him he should be scared. But he’s not. It feels… Kind of good. “Are you okay?” The man asks. Peter’s eyes flutter and he takes a slow breath. “Y-yeah?” His voice is shaky. Soft. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t look away from the man’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” “Peter.” His reply is nothing more than a whisper. “Pretty Peter,” the man mumbles. “I think it’s better if you go home. There are a lot of predators out there.” If Peter really cared, he would wonder why this stranger is saying these things to him. But he doesn’t. In fact; he couldn’t care less. The eyes are too mesmerising. The man frowns and once again, Peter mirrors the expression. “Forget the last five minutes.” The man suddenly clears his throat and takes a step back. Peter snaps out of whatever he was in and he takes a breath of fresh air, head tilting down to look at the asphalt path below him to ground himself. He turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- wait… Déjà vu? “Peter,” the man says. Peter looks at the man and smiles brightly. Right, he was here too. The man nods and presses his lips on top of each other. “Name’s James. Call me Bucky.” “Oh! Sir-” Peter steps forward and fiddles with his fingers. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t remember telling the man- Bucky- his name, but he doesn’t question it. A realization hits him and he shifts to look at the spilled coffee on the path. “Ah- your coffee-” “-Was already cold.” Peter scoffs. “That’s not the point, though.” He walks away from Bucky and bends down to pick up the empty cup. “I made you drop it. I owe you one.” Surprise flashes over Bucky’s face and Peter shuffles back to him, raising the cup to hold it between their faces. His eyes peek over to look into Bucky’s and he smiles. “I insist.” “Peter-” “Please.” Bucky’s jaw tightens for a second and he sucks in a breath. He then scoffs and shakes his head, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows. When he looks back up at Peter again, there’s a mischievous sparkle there and Peter’s smile grows wider. “I have some things to take care of right now, but how does three o’clock sound?” Peter nods eagerly, somehow forgetting he’s supposed to be taking a nap. “Perfect!” He’s about to walk away when he realizes he doesn’t know anything but this man’s name. “Meet up again here?”  “Sounds good to me, doll .” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine, but his smile doesn’t falter. When he initially mentioned the coffee, he genuinely meant to pay it back, but now… It kind of feels like a date. “See you at three?” Peter skips once as he walks away in the direction of his apartment. Bucky nods and licks his lips. “Three.” James Buchanan Barnes Let go. He’d said. Let go. He didn’t want Peter to let go of him. He didn’t even want to let the boy walk away. But he did. He did, and he hates himself for it. He’s never this flustered around humans. He’s always focussed, confident and in control. Yet, the second he caught a whiff of Peter’s scent Bucky knew he was a goner. Knew he had to have him. Never in his afterlife had he ever smelled, seen, sensed someone as utterly captivating as Peter. Everything about the boy screamed at Bucky to split him in two on his cock and suck his veins dry until they’d burn. The last conscious thing Peter would do, is have the most intense orgasm he’s ever had and then his lifeless body would slump against Bucky’s chest. The man would hold him until he grows cold and… and… No. Bucky doesn’t want him to die. Wait. What? His feral urges want him to do everything he would usually do to his prey, except for the killing, which was odd since his entire existence is based on just that. The pick, the hunt, the seduction, the sucking, the sex… Always followed by death. Though, this time it’s different. Peter is different. Bucky is certain he’d go insane if that invigorating smell would be gone forever.  Maybe that’s why he let him go. Peter’s too precious to kill. Too… delicious. God, he must be delicious. Bucky can only imagine what he tastes like and he wonders why he didn’t steal a sip when the boy let go for him. He’s absolutely starving, given that he didn’t hunt yesterday because he was simply too lazy to. Oh, the regrets. Obviously , Bucky wanted Peter to just let go of his arm, yet the boy’s subconscious took it a step further.  “Let go,” Bucky had said. But instead of just uncurling his fingers from Bucky’s arm, Peter immediately slipped into pure submission. He let go of himself . The look on his face was everything to Bucky and his cock twitches at the mere idea of seeing it again. He still doesn’t understand why he didn’t just take Peter home. The boy obviously needs a good fuck, based on his response to the compulsion, and Bucky knows he is a good fuck. They would both get what they desire so much.  But no. Part of him wants to see how far he can take this. Would he even need to manipulate the boy’s mind, or is a smirk and a wink enough for Peter to fall to his knees? Probably. He looked so pretty, though. Jaw slacked, deep brown eyes glazed over as his mind turned off and his body turned on, listening to Bucky’s every word as he was told to wait until Bucky’d gotten rid of the ungrateful witch and her pathetic goblin of a dog. He could watch Peter float inside himself for hours. Who knows, he might even do that at some point. For now, though, he watches how Peter quickly jumps out of the subway train, evading other people who try to catch it before the doors close. Bucky keeps his distance, but he sticks close enough to keep Peter’s intoxicating scent in his nose. He stalks, enjoying how Peter sometimes looks back with a frown, looking for the source that makes him feel like he’s being watched. The boy knows he’s being followed and Bucky relishes in that part of the hunt. The uneasiness that the prey feels. Followed by the fear of the confrontation, which soon turns to immeasurable pleasure and then- no. No death. Not with Peter. After a short walk, Peter cuts into an alleyway. Bucky frowns and holds back for a bit, not wanting Peter to turn around on him in the alley. He takes the pause to have a look around, now his eyes are no longer strained on the frail, small body of his prey. They’re quite a bit away from the city center and the neighborhood is… Not great. Something about that irks Bucky. Why would a sweet, soft boy like Peter live in a place like this? When Bucky cuts the corner to follow him further, a door closes. Peter went inside one of the buildings. Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose. He’s slightly startled when the smell suddenly grows more intense and he looks up to where it’s coming from. A small window opened. Bucky smiles. There he is. Bucky crosses the street, quietly joking that he’s doing it to get to the other side, and swiftly climbs the building. He settles on the roof, hiding behind the heightened ledge and stares intently at Peter, who checks his phone at the opened window. Bucky suppresses the urge to quote Romeo and Juliet and flares his nostrils. His eyes roll back when the sweet, sweet scent of Peter fills his lungs. He studies Peter from afar. The boy is talking to himself, which has Bucky wondering if he’s lonely. He’s alone, that’s for sure. Peter grabs a tin can and sits down on his bed next to the window. Bucky frowns when Peter tips the can, a few dollars and a couple of pennies fall out of it. Peter bends down to put the can on the floor, for a lack of table in his little studio, and picks up the bills and coins to count. Bucky’s barely beating heart squeezes. The kid’s poor. Very poor. And now he’s counting this week’s cash in the hopes of having enough to buy Bucky a coffee. An expensive, useless, New York coffee. One he’d let go cold, just like all his other beverages. When Peter has gathered all the money, opting to just put all of the tin can’s contents in his bag as it’s only just enough for one overpriced coffee anyways, he flops down flat on his bed. “Thirty minutes…” Bucky can hear him mumble as he sets an alarm. Somehow Bucky hoped Peter would use those thirty minutes to play with his dick, but no. Peter closes his eyes, face relaxing almost immediately as he drops into a dreamless sleep. For now. Bucky shifts so he can see Peter more clearly and he can’t help but be amazed at how quickly Peter’s breathing steadied. He must’ve been exhausted. Bucky wonders when Peter had enjoyed himself last. Not sexually. Just generally. He smiled at Bucky, sure, but that was after Bucky turned off his brain for a minute or two. He’d chased a dog for some hag who didn’t actually put in the energy to catch her own pet, can barely scrape together ten dollars for a cold coffee for someone who doesn’t even deserve it and needs a nap in the middle of the day. Nobody his age should need to take a nap in the middle of the day. Worries must be clouding his mind so much that even the smallest suggestion to free himself from his anxious thoughts is enough to snap his willpower in half. A strong sense of pity urges Bucky to glance around the street to check if anybody would see him. When he confirms the coast is clear, it only takes him a second to jump over the road, get inside, and crouch down besides Peter’s bed. The smell is absolutely overwhelming. The entire room is drenched in the boy’s perfume and Bucky opens his mouth to taste it on his tongue. He glides it past his teeth and licks his lips before turning his attention to Peter. His jaw is slacked again, but his face is not as relaxed as it was when Bucky had complete control over him. Every fiber in Bucky’s body wants him to touch Peter’s face. Trace the lines of his veins from his neck down to his wrist. But he doesn’t. If the boy needs sleep, he needs sleep. That doesn’t mean Bucky won’t help him have the best thirty minute nap Peter has ever had.  Bucky inches closer, practicing the most self restraint he’s ever had to do, fighting his urges to sink his teeth into Peter’s exposed neck. He opens his mouth and releases a cold breath on Peter’s face. The boy’s eyebrow twitches. Bucky grins when his little magic starts doing its work. Peter relaxes even further and sighs. The corners of his mouth curl up and Bucky wants to kiss them. Press his cold lips against Peter’s warm smile. He holds back though, and closes his own eyes to guide Peter through his dream. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter opens his eyes, quietly frustrated that he can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. All he can think of is the strange man he met. How relaxed he made him feel. How nice. Bucky . There’s a tingling feeling in Peter’s abdomen and he licks his lips, taking a shaky breath. It doesn’t take him long to decide what to do in that half hour, knowing he won’t be able to sleep anyways. He takes off his pants, discarding them to the side, and puts his pillow against the wall. He rests his head against it, sitting slightly more upright so he can open his laptop. He puts in his password and opens his browser in incognito mode. With one hand, he scrolls through what Pornhub has to offer, while palming his dick through his underwear with the other. It’s already half-hard and Peter whimpers quietly when his thumb brushes over the clothed head. His eyes roll back and flutter shut as he squeezes the shaft, stifling a moan.  “Don’t hold back…” a voice says quietly. Peter’s mouth opens wide to let out the sound he was suppressing. He doesn’t recall hitting play on any porn, but he doesn’t really care. Whatever video he clicked on, the audio of it went straight to his cock. He keeps his eyes closed, continuing to palm himself. His hips start rolling slowly. Rhythmically. He’s only half-aware it’s at the same pace as his heartbeat, thumping through his dick. “You look so pretty when you enjoy yourself,” the voice whispers. It’s close, which Peter doesn’t really get. His laptop is next to his hip, how is he hearing the man speak right next to his ear? The man. Peter’s body twitches when he realizes he’s hearing Bucky. Bucky is saying all these sweet things to him. Bucky. “Does that feel good?” Bucky asks softly and Peter can’t help but nod, face contorting with pleasure. Because it does; it feels amazing. “Mmm…” Bucky’s hum vibrates through Peter’s body and he automatically squeezes his dick a little tighter. His free hand moves up to pinch his nipple. Suddenly, two cold hands pull down Peter’s underwear. One feels like skin, yet the other… Is that metal? The boy’s hips buck up involuntarily. “P-please,” he whispers. He’s unable to open his eyes and the situation has him thoroughly confused. How could his imagination seem so real? So vivid. It feels so good. “ Oh ,” Bucky exclaims quietly. Teasingly. “You beg so nicely.” Peter jolts when cold fingers curl around his shaft. His own hand immediately loses tension and falls onto the mattress. He didn’t even need to be asked. He wants to give in. So bad. Suddenly, soft lips press against his slacked jaw. Peter raises the hand that was playing with his nipple to cup the face of whoever’s kissing him, but there’s nothing there. Right. This is his imagination. He’s getting off to the idea of Bucky jerking him off. The man’s not actually here. "Beg some more, would you?” Bucky whispers and Peter’s muscles tense when the man starts pumping slowly. Both of Peter’s hands are helplessly laying next to him. He couldn’t even move them if he tried. Peter gasps under the attention and bucks his hips up into the tight grip of his imagination. How could something that’s not actually there, feel so real? “Please, feels so good, please- don’t stop-” His fists grasp at the sheets and he writhes on his mattress. “Not planning to, doll .” Peter could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice. “ Relax for me …” Bucky teases Peter’s ear with his deep voice, leaving kitten licks on the shell between his sentences. Peter’s body grows heavier and heavier with each stroke of Bucky’s hand. “ Let me take all your worries away …” Bucky increases the speed of his pumps and Peter moans obscenely. There’s a soft chuckle next to Peter, but he can’t open his eyes. He just can’t. Not when Bucky’s hands and kisses caress his body. Not when Bucky’s voice is like heavy honey, keeping him in place. “Do you want that?” Bucky asks softly. Peter has already half forgotten what Bucky is referencing to. All he knows is that his answer is the truth. “Yes- yes, please, take it. Take it all.” Bucky’s hand goes even faster, making Peter’s cock spurt precum onto his stomach. The man twists his wrist expertly as he pumps, pressing his thumb into the tip each time he reaches it. Peter’s a sweaty mess. His toes curl with every thrust he makes in the hopes of gaining even more friction. “ Such a good boy ,” Bucky whispers. His wandering mouth reaches Peter’s neck and leaves an open, wet kiss, suckling at the skin. After less than a minute of mercilessly squeezing Peter’s throbbing shaft, the room smells of sex. Peter knows his neighbors could hear him. But he doesn’t care. Wants to give all his worries to Bucky. The man’s voice orders: “ Open your eyes .” Peter does so and is immediately captivated by the stunning blue irises right in front of him. Is… Is this real? Is he not imagining this? Bucky smirks and Peter lets out a sob. He’s close. So close. Bucky’s words and actions have turned Peter into a desperate, wailing mess. “That’s it, Peter… Give yourself to me. Let go. ” Peter’s eyes shoot wide open at his alarm. He bolts to sit upright, chest heaving, and he looks down at the damp patch in his pants. He was right at the edge and he’s certain he would’ve come if that horrible alarm didn’t snap him out of it. It takes him a minute to let the adrenaline of the edge fade away. He considers getting off quickly. Just pull out his dick and hump into his hand until he explodes onto his sheets. But he can’t. He’s already late. He kicks his pants and underpants off and tosses them into the corner. His throbbing cock bounces against his abdomen as he hops into a new pair of underwear. He’s so horny it hurts . That dream was strangely intense. It felt so real. But it wasn’t. Bucky wasn’t here. Bucky’s at Central Park, waiting for Peter to show up. Peter hopes that next time he gets to get off, he’ll be able to dream like that again. He’s not even sure if he can look Bucky in the eye after this. For now, though, he considers excusing himself to go to the bathroom once he and Bucky get to the coffee shop. At least he won’t be too late then and he can still rub his painful erection away. He puts on his shoes and grabs his bag - double checking if he put in the twelve dollars and 70 pence he had left - before grabbing his phone and shutting the door behind him to rush to the subway. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky pushes up his sleeve to look at the time on his Rolex. As if he didn’t arrive a minute before Peter did and he had been standing in their established meeting spot for over ten minutes. He’s the reason Peter’s late. Not that he minds. Everything about Peter was absolute heaven in that little bedroom. Bucky hadn’t laid a finger on him. He just watched the boy as his body responded to the images Bucky put in Peter’s head. The only word Bucky could use to describe his new obsession is… Delicious . He looks delicious, he sounds delicious, he smells delicious and Bucky is sure that Peter would taste delicious too. For some reason Bucky still denies himself that pleasure. The number of opportunities he’s had to sink his teeth into Peter’s skin is laughable at this point. Other creatures like him would even be embarrassed. Bucky isn’t, though. Everything about Peter is too good to spoil. And so, he waits. He’s not entirely sure what for, but he waits nonetheless. “Bucky!” The man pulls down his sleeve again and looks up at his boy with a smile. His eye twitches once. Peter is his boy. Peter jogs, slightly out of stamina, cheeks rosy, hair tousled and clothes slightly disheveled. “Peter,” Bucky says quickly. Politely. “I was wondering where you were.” “I- eh,” Peter stammers and he stops right in front of Bucky, scratching the back of his head. “I have no good excuse, I’m sorry.” “Oh?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow playfully and smirks. “Now I’m curious.” Peter gulps and the red flush on his cheeks extends to his ears. Cute. Bucky thinks. “It’s nothing special-” Peter tries. “I just took a nap.” Bucky presses his lips on top of each other in a smile. He glances at the path ahead of them and nods in that direction. Peter follows Bucky’s gaze and returns the smile slightly before taking the first step, initiating a walk through the park. “I can’t help but notice the change of pants.” Bucky clears his throat and he can feel Peter’s muscles tense again. “And the lack of a coat. In November.” “I spilled in- on! On my jeans.” Peter slaps his forehead, but attempts to hide the gesture by pushing his fingers through his hair. “Coffee!” He yelps. “Yes, coffee.” A terrible excuse that makes absolutely zero sense. Cute. Bucky thinks. Again. “Alright, doll .” Bucky smirks, baring his teeth and Peter sucks in a breath. Bucky knows Peter’s alibi isn’t solid, but Bucky won’t pry further. He knows what’s up. Bucky doesn’t even have to look at Peter’s crotch to know that it’s still up. “And I assume the lack of coat is because you were late?” “I’m not cold if that’s what you’re asking.” Peter immediately contradicts his words by hugging his bare arms. The nerdy T-shirt is obviously not enough. Bucky scoffs to himself, taking off his leather gloves and only half ignoring Peter’s stare resting on his metal hand. Right, the boy had only seen the prosthetic in his dream, not in real life. This must be quite the mindfuck for him. Bucky puts the gloves in the pockets of his coat. He can’t believe he’s doing this.  One by one he opens the buttons of his sleek, wool trench coat and shakes it off his broad shoulders, revealing his grey three piece suit. Peter immediately stops in his tracks and raises his hands in front of him. “No, no, it’s okay!” Peter looks at Bucky’s fingers curled around the fabric. “It’s my own fault for forgetting.” When he tilts his head up to look Bucky in the eye, Bucky grasps him with his stare. “ Hold still. ” Peter’s frozen in place as Bucky walks around him, placing his coat over Peter’s shoulders. Bucky squeezes Peter’s upper arms as he leans over his shoulder. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.” “Cold…?” Bucky swears inwardly at Peter’s whisper. The coat should’ve been warm. It’s not. Cause he’s not. Bucky quickly hooks his arm into Peter’s and continues their walk, hoping Peter won’t ask any questions about it. However, when he realizes how close Peter is to him, his brain stutters. Just like when he was in Peter’s room, the smell is overwhelming and he now knows his growing thirst is certainly insatiable. How could he ever get enough? Could he stop when he starts? Could- “Are you okay?” Peter’s voice is small, just like his body against Bucky’s. “Yeah.” Bucky sniffs once, a habit he picked up spending time with Tony. Right . He was going to have to tell Tony about Peter. He looks down at the boy, who - in turn - looks back up at him with his big, beautiful brown eyes. A smile creeps onto Bucky’s face at the realization that he gets to share Peter with Tony. If Peter wants to, he reminds himself. Though, with how the boy’s been responding to Bucky, he’s fairly certain Peter would eagerly be dominated by both of them. “Just a little lost in thought, I suppose,” Bucky mumbles. “Something on your mind?” Bucky didn’t expect the honest question and before he can think of a better reply, his mouth has already said the word. “You.” Peter’s eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head to look down at his feet. Bucky guesses it’s to hide his everlasting flushed cheeks. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re on my mind too,” Peter admits. Bucky would’ve laughed if it hadn’t sounded so utterly innocent.  “Hm,” is all he manages to reply. Bucky guides Peter to the exit of the park and nods at the coffee shop across the street. “You up for a cup?” He grins at Peter, who chuckles at the rhyme. “I think I’ll pass, but I still need to get you yours.” Bucky nearly forgot; the boy can only afford one coffee. “Peter.” Bucky’s tone is stern and Peter looks up at him with curled brows, wondering if he did or said something wrong. “I’m paying.” Peter tries to struggle free from Bucky’s grip, but the man won’t let him get away. “What? No! I made you drop your coffee, I’m not gonna make you pay for it, I-” “I’m paying. ” Peter’s lips squeeze on top of each other and before his mind catches up with what’s happening, he nods and lets himself be guided to the shop. . The coffee shop is cosy. Quaint. Bucky had let go of Peter to open the door for him. He quietly stalks behind the boy and can’t help but smile. Though it’s warm, Peter still hugs Bucky’s coat around him. It’s too big on him, which makes him look absolutely adorable. Peter tilts his head up, flaring his nostrils and taking a deep breath in through his nose with his eyes closed.  “Smells so good,” he sighs softly. Bucky stares at him, pretending that Peter’s soft moan didn’t surge through him. He knows Peter was talking about the baked goods, but Bucky can’t really smell anything but Peter. “You do.” “Hm?” Peter opens his eyes to look at Bucky, who clears his throat in an attempt to hide how flustered his own error made him. “It does,” he says quickly. “Apple-cinnamon.” He’s not smelling any of that, but given the time of the year, it’s his best guess. Peter smiles and nods, but Bucky doesn’t miss the expression faltering when Peter turns to look at all the displayed foods on the counter. Oh, no.

“Hungry?” Bucky asks softly, not wanting to make Peter uncomfortable.  “A little,” Peter mumbles. He doesn’t dare to look at Bucky, feeling slightly embarrassed. His eyes are strained on the many cakes and cookies. “When’s the last time you ate?” The question seems to startle Peter and he finally looks at Bucky again. “What, a meal? Or-” “Christ, kid, anything.” Peter shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and fiddles with his fingers. “I mean… I had some popcorn yesterday.” He frowns slightly. “Or was that the day before?” “You’re telling me you don’t remember when you last had anything to eat?” “Please, Bucky, I’m not here to be pitied. Let’s just get the coffee.” Peter wants to step further inside but Bucky’s rough hand turns him by his shoulder and the boy’s knees nearly give in when Bucky makes eye contact. “If you could eat anything. Right now. What would you want?” “What-?” “Answer the question.” “Spaghetti Bolognese.” Bucky’s heart squeezes. The kid could ask for the most elaborate of meals. Buffets with endless options, an all you can eat menu... He could’ve asked for sushi, or Turkish bread. Yet, what he wants most is a basic plate of spaghetti with red sauce. Peter hides his face behind his hands and wiggles free from Bucky’s grasp. “I’m sorry, that’s stupid.” “It’s not.” Bucky frowns. “I just wonder why?” Peter visibly swallows and looks down at his feet. “My aunt always made that for me.” He chuckles, but his eyes betray his sadness. “She’s- she was a terrible cook. She could only make spaghetti.” “And your aunt…?” “Passed away three months ago.” Peter takes a deep breath and clears his throat to collect himself. “Cancer.” “I’m sorry,” Bucky mutters sincerely. “Is there no one you can go to?” Peter purses his lips and shakes his head with a quiet scoff. “Parents died when I was ten. My uncle died when I was fifteen. May was all I’d left.” Peter’s brows curl up into a frown and he turns away from Bucky even further. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” “You’re alone,” Bucky states. The spoken truth seems to sting Peter. “Is that why you wanted to buy me the coffee?” Peter bites his lip. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Bucky stares at Peter for a second, before offering his hand to the boy. “Do you want to go get some spaghetti with me?” He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t compel Peter to just join him, whether the boy wants to or not. Perhaps he wants to see if Peter would take his hand without being urged to. He hopes so. Peter looks at Bucky’s hand, visibly holding back tears. “I can’t afford it.” “I can.” Bucky gives Peter an encouraging smile and he can’t help but feel both surprised and victorious when Peter’s fingers hesitantly curl around his palm. Bucky leads Peter out of the coffee shop they’d just entered and uses his free hand to haul a cab.  “I’ll pay you back,” Peter promises quietly. Bucky scoffs with a smile and lets Peter get into the cab first. “Sure, you will.”  . The cab ride to Bucky’s favourite Italian restaurant was pleasant. They had surprisingly normal conversations, but not out of formality. They discussed interests. Peter’s a nerd. Bucky learned Peter dropped out of MIT to take care of his aunt when she got sick. He doesn’t have the funds to go back there now, as the funeral cut into all his savings. MIT. Peter is smart. Something Bucky is certain Tony will take a liking to. The boy’s into Star Wars and, surprisingly, flowers too. And dogs. Which is why he spends time at the dog park every day. Bucky figures that’s the only thing keeping him sane with everything he’s got going on. Bucky glances at Peter, who gawks at the restaurant building in front of them. He can’t help himself and softly presses the palm of his hand against Peter’s lower back. The boy whimpers, holding more tightly onto Bucky’s coat still wrapped around him. “Like it?” Bucky grins. “Like it?” Peter repeats sarcastically, causing Bucky to laugh. God, if Peter knew what exactly Bucky is capable of- what Bucky is, he’d never have done that. “It’s a little much,” Peter admits, chuckling. “If we go here I probably won’t be able to pay you back within, I dunno, ten years?” “I’m not asking you to pay anything, Peter.” “But I want to.” Peter crosses his arms and looks up at Bucky defiantly. “My uncle always told me that being in debt to someone is the stupidest thing you can do. The only loan you should ever take is your mortgage.” “You were never indebted to me.” Bucky nods. “Solid advice, by the way.” “But your coffee-” “You keep saying that as if I wasn’t the one who tossed it to the side.” Bucky creeps his arm further around Peter’s back, until he’s pressing the boy against him by his waist. Peter doesn’t fight it and for a second Bucky forgets that Peter isn’t under any form of compulsion. He’s letting this happen. Does he want this? Peter ignores Bucky’s comment and, instead, looks back at the restaurant. The sign outside proudly shows that it has a Michelin star. “I don’t fit here- I don’t look the part.” Peter looks down at his worn sneakers and denim jeans. He purposefully skips his T-shirt with a nerdy pun on it. It would only make him feel worse. “They’ll never let me in.” Bucky squeezes into Peter’s side, causing him to yelp softly and look up. The boy immediately freezes when Bucky’s eyes capture his. “Don’t worry. You’re with me.” Bucky’s cock twitches at the sight of Peter’s glazed over eyes. He didn’t expect Peter to reply. His thralls never reply. “I’m with you…” Peter’s lips barely moved when he spoke and Bucky has to suppress the urge to call him a good boy. To help control himself, Bucky looks away from Peter, who blinks a few times as he snaps out of it again. Bucky starts walking up the stairs towards the entrance of the restaurant, his hand still on Peter’s back, and Peter quietly follows Bucky’s pull. . Peter’s an eater. When given the chance to take his fill, he takes. And Bucky relishes in giving Peter what he deserves. Peter’s thoroughly enjoying the pasta and the six sides Bucky ordered for him. Carpaccio, stuffed zucchini, pumpkin gnocchi, stuffed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes with basil leaves and olive oil and – Bucky’s favourite – garlic bread. It should be enough to feed at least two people, but Peter is like a vacuum. Bucky would’ve made a comment about how Peter should take the time to taste the dishes, if Peter wasn’t so vocal after every bite. It’s not enough to disturb the other people at the restaurant – not that it’s busy, it’s not even four o’clock yet – but it’s enough to have Bucky squirm in his seat. The boy moans every time the fork disappears into his mouth, lips wrapped around it, enjoying the explosion of flavour on his tongue that has been denied the pleasures of good cuisine- any cuisine- for so long now. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Peter breaks the silence and Bucky realizes he’s been staring at Peter eating for at least ten minutes now. Bucky straightens his back and shakes his head with the corners of his mouth curled up. “I’m alright.” Peter is about to put a piece of garlic bread in his mouth, but he halts halfway up. He cocks an eyebrow and pushes out his arm to give the bite to Bucky. Bucky stares at the piece of bread. Or well, the hand that’s attached to it. And the wrist. The veins. “Peter, I-” “Come on, it’s really good!”  “I know.” Bucky says through gritted teeth. Peter pushes in further, the most innocent smile on his face and Bucky chooses to just hold his breath. It’s no use. If he weren’t already dead, this boy would’ve been the death of him. “One bite?” If only he knew. Bucky’s going to lose control. He knows. But he doesn’t want to. He can’t just run out on Peter. He wants to… He…  He leans in. Slowly. His mouth opens slightly and his canines ache with the need to push out. Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat and he closes his eyes. Maybe if he can’t see Peter, he’ll manage. He realizes doing just that was a big mistake. His lack of vision immediately intensified the smell. The only thing he can do is repeat all the swear words he knows over and over and over again in his mind. Peter is so close. So horrifyingly close, that Bucky can hear his blood pump through his wrist. He opens his mouth further and further and his lip trembles when he feels Peter’s body heat vibrate against his skin. Almost there. Almost. He bites down, the crunching of the bread bringing him back to the present. His eyes open wide and he stares at Peter, who has a curious look on his face. The boy carefully lets go of the bread and pulls his hand back in, leaving the snack to stick half out of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky swiftly brings his own hand up to catch it from falling out and he sits up straight again, ripping the bread to a size he can chew. He can barely believe he was able to hold back. He would never deny that he wanted to stop Peter from pulling back- that he wanted to grab his lower arm and kiss his skin until it turned red from the pressure. He’s yearning to taste Peter. Why won’t he just do it? “It’s good, right?” Peter says with a bright smile. The question reminds Bucky to chew further. Humans do that. They don’t just swallow their food in one go. Bucky supposes that’s one of the few perks about being what he is. The liquid diet. Saves a lot of time. It’s been a while since he had food in his mouth, but he can’t say he hates it. It’s actually pretty good. He’s not sure if it’s the food or Peter’s presence that’s making it better, though. “It is.” . “So, you’re telling me you work at a bakery? But you don’t eat?” Bucky rests his head in his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. He’s leaned back, legs spread slightly, but Peter can’t see it with the table in the way. Not that it matters. The boy is still occupied with stuffing his face for the first time in forever. “Company considers it theft.” “Even the loafs that aren’t pretty enough for the stores?” Peter sighs and looks at his nearly empty plate of pasta. “They want a good image so they give the ugly stuff that won’t sell to homeless shelters. Which is fair, to be honest. The homeless need it more than I do.” Bucky’s baffled by Peter’s words. “Didn’t you tell me less than an hour ago that you’ll be evicted within two weeks if you don’t find a better paying job? Means you’re homeless too. You deserve the food just as much.” Peter leans forward again, cocking his head. “Not homeless yet. Not eligible for food.” He takes another bite and speaks with his mouth full. Normally Bucky would’ve minded. Not with Peter, though. “Besides, I’ve got a job interview on Monday.” “For something that makes you enough money to keep the sad little studio you live in now?” “No, but-” Peter stops in his tracks and stares at Bucky, who realizes he ran his mouth. “You know where I live?” “No!” Bucky straightens his back and evades Peter’s piercing gaze. “I just assumed-” “Well, guess you assumed right.” Peter’s voice is strained. Oh, no. This is the last thing Bucky wants. Peter puts down his fork rather aggressively and crosses his arms. “Do you do this more often? Find someone poor, in need of help? Groom them? What is all of this?” “Peter, I-” “I’m paying,” Peter repeats Bucky’s words with a mocking tone. “Does that make you feel better? Knowing you did your good deed of the day?” Bucky is stunned. He has no clue what to say next, but his silence was enough of an answer to Peter. “You know what, I’m done.” Peter pushes his chair back and stands up, nearly causing his glass of water to tip over. Bucky quickly drops way too much cash on the dinner table and rushes after him. When the cold November air hits their skin, Bucky finally speaks again. Though, it’s more of a plea. “Please, don’t go.” Peter isn’t planning on slowing down and glances at his phone, cursing quietly at the time. “Peter-” The boy whips around and it aches Bucky to see tears in his eyes. “Thanks for the food, but-” He looks at his feet and his face contorts. “I gotta go anyways, I got work.” “Work? You’re going to the bakery, now?” Peter looks up to the grey sky and scoffs. “Some people work multiple jobs to make ends meet, Buck. I’m waiting at a gala tonight.” He waves his hand and continues walking away. “Why am I even telling you all of this. Just leave me alone.” No. Bucky isn’t letting him go. He wants to make him let go. For all different reasons. Bucky moves fast and grabs Peter’s hand. He makes Peter turn around to face him and he gives the boy a stern look. “Do you really want me to leave you alone?” “Yes.” “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Why?” Bucky moves to invade Peter’s space, maintaining eye contact and rubbing soft, slow circles on the exact spot he wanted to bite into when Peter offered him the garlic bread. “I don’t want to be pitied.” Bucky presses himself against Peter. The boy can step away whenever he wants. Bucky doesn’t control his body right now. Yet, Peter stays. Right there, flush against Bucky and looking up at the man with his beautiful, distant, brown eyes. “What do you want?” Bucky whispers, only half aware that his mouth is inching closer to Peter’s. Slightly stunned that the young man still isn’t fighting him. “To be loved.” A shiver runs through Bucky’s body and he can’t help but smirk. His free hand reaches up to cup Peter’s face and his skin is so soft. “That can be arranged…” It’s quiet for a second, neither of them knowing exactly what to say next. “I actually received an invitation for a charity gala tonight. Time’s Square. Is that where you’re working?” Peter nods shyly. “Are you going?” He asks quietly. A kind smile spreads onto Bucky’s face. “I wasn’t planning to… Do you want me to go?” Peter presses his lips on top of each other and closes his eyes. His breath is warm against Bucky’s lips. So close. “I do,” Peter whispers, before finally pressing his lips against Bucky’s. The man gasps and opens his mouth to push his tongue against Peter’s flat kiss. The boy immediately complies and grants Bucky access, allowing him to to taste all the flavours Peter just experienced at the restaurant. Peter kissed him. Of his own accord. The mere idea has Bucky groan in pleasure. After a few seconds of kissing, Peter’s eyes blow wide open and he takes a big step backwards, breaking free from Bucky’s hold on his wrist. He apologetically bows his head. “I’m sorry- I, I have to go now, I really do.” Peter turns and runs. As fast as he can. With any other human, Bucky would’ve initiated the chase. It was part of what he liked so much about the hunt. But he’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. What to say next. What to think next. All he can muster up in his mind is Peter. Peter-Peter-Peter-Peter. The boy kissed him. His lips were so soft and warm and Bucky wants to kiss them again. Envelope himself in the scent that’s now slowly fading away. It takes a few minutes for Bucky to come to his senses and he blinks, looking at the high rises around him to ground himself. The gala’s tonight. He’ll see Peter again tonight. Wait. Tony received an invitation to the gala as well. Bucky could introduce them. He laughs loud. Once. It catches the attention of a few people, who soon decide the man isn’t a threat - wrong - and continue with their lives. Bucky walks to the street and hauls a cab. He wants to go back home and tell Tony all about his new fixation. His Peter. Anthony Edward Stark “You’re in a good mood,” Tony quips from his lounge chair. He’s absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, half-ignoring Bucky stomping into the penthouse. “Bad feed?” “No feed,” Bucky growls as he throws his coat over the couch. “Wha- no feed?” Tony sits upright and cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t feed yesterday either. Aren’t you starving?” The look in Bucky’s eyes says enough and Tony relaxes back into his seat until… His nose twitches. “What’s that?” He eyes the coat that Bucky had just tossed aside. There’s a strange, faint scent coming from it. It’s… Good. “My prey.” Bucky picks the coat back up and tosses it to Tony. He presses the wool against his nose and takes a whiff, cock stirring at the sweet scent. “Jeez. And you didn’t feed?” “Not from him.” Bucky groans as he drops himself on the cushions of the couch.  “I can’t stop thinking about him.” He hides his face behind his hands. “About how he might taste.” “Wai-wai-wait.” Tony tosses the coat over Bucky’s head. He instinctively hugs it, pressing the fabric against his nose and smelling the remnants of whoever his prey is. “Why does your coat smell of your prey?” “He wore it.” “Jesus Christ, Buck,” Tony exclaims when he gets up from his chair to grab them both a straight whisky. Double. “Had him right where you wanted and you let him go?” Bucky doesn’t reply. Tony figures he’d feel stupid for saying yes. Same as that he would feel stupid for lying. Tony can hear Bucky lick the coat, tasting the smell of his prey on his tongue and moaning softly. “We’re going to that gala tonight,” Bucky states. Tony immediately protests, placing Bucky’s whisky on the coffee table and sitting back down in the lounge chair with his own glass in hand. “I literally told you this morning that I don’t feel like going.” “He’ll be there.” “And why should I care? He’s your prey.” “Smell it again.” Bucky growls as he throws the coat back to Tony. The billionaire groans and reluctantly inhales again. Sure, it smells better than average, but it’s not worth going to a party for. If Bucky wants this guy he can go get him himself. “He wore that coat three hours ago.” Tony’s eyes go wide at that comment. “Three hours?” He stares at the coat in disbelief. Bucky’s scent is intense and overpowering. Anything he touches smells of Bucky. Yet, this prey Bucky’s been describing... If he wore this coat three hours ago and Bucky wore it all this time after that, it shouldn’t have smelled of his prey anymore. All that should’ve remained was Bucky. Yet… “Is he that intense?” Tony asks, brows curled up into a frown. “Is that even possible?”  Bucky picks the coat from Tony’s hands and curls his fingers around it. He moves to sit on top of Tony and grinds himself down onto Tony’s crotch. Bucky presses the coat against his face and moans as he slowly ruts himself down into Tony.  “Oh, Buck,” Tony growls, pressing his fingers into his lover’s hips and baring his sharp teeth. A grin spreads on his face when Bucky speeds up slightly. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?” “I need him, Tony, I-” Bucky whimpers. “So bad-” “Well, then.” Tony puts down his whisky to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. “Let’s get changed.” . The entire car ride to the gala, Tony teased Bucky. The man was uncharacteristically nervous. A little antsy, but nothing Tony can’t handle. He curls a lock of Bucky’s hair around his finger and leans in. “If you’re so desperate for him, why would you want to share him with me?” Bucky turns his head away from Tony, who sees it as a challenge to get the man to look at him again. He takes Bucky’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tugs playfully. “Bucky bear, tell me.” “Don’t call me that,” Bucky growls, yet he lets his head be turned under Tony’s touch. “You’re a grumpy bear, I just call you what you are,” Tony says with a smirk. It falters and his expression turns serious. His stare is intense and if Bucky wasn’t like Tony, he’d have answered without second thought. Fortunately, compulsion doesn’t work on him if he doesn’t want it to. “Tell me why.” “You’ll find out,” Bucky sighs. He grabs Tony’s wrist with his metal hand and guides Tony to his crotch. Tony immediately cups the shaft through Bucky’s pants and scoffs a laugh. “Your cock’s almost as hard as your arm, Buck.” He pulls back, much to Bucky’s dismay, and crosses his arms. “That boy must really be worth it.” The car pulls over and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “Trust me, he is.” “Sure, sure,” Tony chuckles. The car door is opened for them and Tony swiftly gets out. He offers Bucky his hand, but the man gets out of the car himself. Still grumpy.  “You might want to put on a smile if you want him to like you. Or… Do you want to scare him off?” Tony jokes, hooking his arm into Bucky’s and initiating their walk up the stairs outside the building. “I’m seconds away from ripping out your heart, please choose your next words carefully.” Tony stops them, halfway up the steps and stares Bucky with a nonchalant look before leaning in and whispering. “I love you.” It’s soft. Genuine. “And however much I may be joking, I am honored you want to share something so precious to you with me.” Bucky cocks an eyebrow, but presses a quick kiss on Tony’s lips before continuing their way up. “You’re awful,” Bucky sighs. “You always get away with it.” “Only because you let me, Bucky bear.” Tony laughs softly. The next help opens the double doors for them. “Besides, this is more for you than for me. How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” Peter Benjamin Parker “You’re in a good mood,” Betty quips, shaking Peter out of his thoughts.  “What?” “Seriously, Pete?” She laughs as she loads her tray with more champagne glasses. “You’ve had this goofy smile on your face all evening. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this energized.” Peter straightens his back and turns to help Betty with her work. She jumps. “No, wait, let me guess!” Peter chuckles. The tray is halfway filled now and he shifts to grab a new champagne bottle to fill some more glasses. “Whatever you think it is, you’re wrong.” “Oh, so you didn’t meet someone cute?” Peter tenses up and his head whips to face Betty. She squeals. “I knew it!” She hops in her place, evading the stare of their asshole manager, Quentin Beck, who was lazily scrolling through his phone. “So? What’s she like?” “He.” “He! Ah, I knew it!” “Betty-” “Sorry, sorry! I did it again,” she sighs and rolls her shoulders before pressing into Peter’s space again. “Tell me everything!” “Betty!” Beck’s loud voice echoes through the kitchen and she flinches. “Stop distracting Peter and get your pretty ass to table S2, they requested a waiter and that’s your area.” “Yes, sir.” Betty smiles embarrassed at Peter before making her way out onto the floor. Peter quietly continues to pour the champagne glasses, trying his best not to anger Beck any further. When he’s done, he picks up the heavy tray and balances it expertly as he walks onto the floor. The second he sets foot into the dimly lit space, a strange, yet familiar feeling washes over him. It’s the same as what he felt when he walked home after the dog incident. Like he was being watched. It’d be rude to stop and stare to find the source of the uneasy sensation, so he powers through and continues walking to his area. Once his tray is empty, cheeks hurting from the fake smile on his face, he turns to make his way back to the kitchen. However, he didn’t expect Betty to be right behind him and he runs into her. “Woah!” He exclaims, catching her before she loses balance. When they’re both standing up straight, he notices something is off. “Are you okay?” He asks, squeezing his hand that rests on her upper arm. She stares up at him and blinks a few times. “Yeah! Eh… They asked for our deepest red wine.” “Who?" “Oh, the, um…” Betty frowns, but collects herself. “The people from table S2?” “And you’re telling me this… why?” Peter leans in to check Betty’s pupils. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t have been the first time some gross guys tried to drug her while working. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for her behaviour. “They want you to get it for them.”  “Me?” “You.” Peter stands up straight and cocks his head. He suppresses the urge to turn his head and look at table S2. He’s still being watched. He’s not sure if he likes where this is going. Peter wipes a stray lock of hair behind Betty’s ear and gently pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s get you a glass of water first.” Betty sits on one of the few chairs in the kitchen and stares at the glass of water in her hands. “I’m fine, really, all they asked is for Peter to bring them our deepest shade of red wine.” Beck scratches the back of his head and puts his hands on his hips before turning to look at Peter. “How familiar are you with the S area?” He asks. Peter purses his lips and takes a second to think. “It’s not what I’m used to, but I think I got the numbers down.” He looks down at Betty with a frown. “And if they made you so out of it, maybe it’s better if you don’t take their orders anymore.” Betty’s eye twitches and she looks up to lock gazes with Peter. “...Orders?” It’s quiet for a second. Mr. Beck breaks it with a sudden clap of his hands. “Alright, Peter, Betty’s fired. You’re taking her area together with your own.” “What?” Peter exclaims. “You can’t fire her for something like this!” “I can and I did.” Beck glares at Peter. “Now, off you go, they’ve been waiting long enough. And no, you’re not getting double pay.” Beck suddenly stops in his tracks and points both his index fingers to the ceiling. “The wine!” He turns to the wine cellar and disappears, offhandedly shouting something about wine glasses to Peter. That man is mentally unstable. Peter will never understand how he became the manager. Peter turns to Betty once more. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” Betty nods slightly and she curls the corners of her mouth up. Her eyes don’t smile along. “I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s forced. Peter frowns. “You had to switch places with me anyways.” “Wha- why did I have to? The S area was always your thing, you always claimed it during prep.” “I don’t want the S area anymore. It’s okay. I’ll find another job. They want you.” Peter’s officially worried now. He takes Betty’s hands in his and stares her down, trying to read her. “They?” He mumbles. “They.” Peter was hoping she’d give a little more information, but he probably won’t get it. And she’s out of it. Really out of it. Who would ask specifically for him at a gala? Nobody knows he’s working here… Peter freezes when it hits him. Bucky. “Peter, I thought I asked you to grab the glasses!” Beck shouts annoyed when he returns with a bottle of red wine. Peter stands up straight and nods apologetically, eyeing Betty once more before turning to the cupboards. It’s not long before Peter finds his way onto the floor again, balancing his tray with two glasses and a bottle of red wine on a shaky hand. He sniffs, trying not to look at the S2 table while he’s making his way there. His heart thumps loudly in his chest. “Excuse me?” Peter is almost grateful that someone stops him and he smiles at the lady. “Good evening, ma’am, how may I help?” “The waitress who just helped us, where is she?” “Oh,” Peter says as he turns his body, lowering the tray slightly. “She suddenly felt dizzy, so she’s, eh… She’s taking a break. I’m taking over the tables here.” Honesty gets you further. May’s words still linger in his head. The lady frowns worried. “Oh, dear, I hope she feels better soon. Did our order come through?” Peter quickly peeks at their table number, trying to remember what he saw on the order board in the kitchen. S4. Awesome. That means he can say- “Yes, ma’am, it came through. They’re working on it right now.” He nods, glad he was able to give good news. “I’ll be serving you tonight.” Peter’s startled by someone coughing loudly, choking. He turns and rushes over without second thought, putting down the tray on the table and placing his hand on the shoulder of the hunched over man.  “Sir, are you alright?” He glances at the table number out of habit, freezing for a second when he reads S2. The man who’s choking, collects himself, grabbing his glass of water and taking a sip. Peter can’t help but stare at him. He’s beautiful. There are lines on his face, but they only accentuate his features. His eyes are deep. Brown. He’s not young, but aged like fine… Wine, the wine, right. Wait. Is that… Tony Stark? Tech giant, richest man of New York, Tony Stark?! “Peachy,” Tony forces out, suppressing another cough. He looks up at Peter. The boy is immediately captivated. The only one he’s ever seen with eyes that entrancing is- “Ah, Peter, took you a while.” Peter barely manages to break eye contact and looks up startled at Bucky, sitting next to the Tony Stark. After a few more seconds of stunned silence, the man speaks again. “You can let go now.” Peter realizes his hand still rests on Tony Stark’s shoulder. His words shoot through Peter like a missile. It wasn’t an order, but… Let go.  Before he can move away, Tony captures him again with his eyes. “Unless you don’t want to.” “I-” Peter’s breath hitches in his throat, and it takes him a second to collect himself. “I have to work.” His fingers uncurl from the man’s arm and he stands up straight again with a nod. “Oh?” There’s a mischievous gleam in the Tony’s eyes. “Does that mean you wouldn’t have let go of me if you weren’t working right now?” Let go. Let go. Let go. The words keep echoing through Peter’s head and it makes him tingly. He can’t right now. He has to work. He opts to ignore the inappropriate question. “Your wine,” he says quickly as he places the glasses from the tray onto the table. He then opens the wine bottle, holding it with a cloth. He pours both men a sip to taste, evading eye contact with Bucky. Their kiss still lingers on his lips. He takes a step back and waits for Bucky and Tony to purse their lips, pushing the wine around in their mouths. “It’s a Sagrantino di Montefalco.” Peter says quietly. “Our deepest shade, as per your request.” “Perfect.” Bucky grins and pushes out his arm for Peter to fill his glass further. He complies and tilts the bottle until the glass is adequately filled. The other man does the same, wordlessly, and Peter fills his glass too. “Oh, right, Peter, this is my partner, Tony Stark.” Peter’s eyes go wide. Peter kissed Tony Stark’s partner. In his panic he accidentally tips the bottle too far, overfilling the glass and coating Tony’s hand with the wine. “Oh, sh-” Peter catches himself before he swears and puts the bottle down, immediately using the cloth he held the bottle with to take the glass from Tony’s hands. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t-” Before Peter can hand Tony the cloth, the man brings his wine coated fingers to his lips. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. He shivers, which has Peter wonder why. It’s not exactly a good smelling wine. Is he smelling something else? Peter’s jaw clenches when Tony pushes his digits into his mouth. It all seemed innocent enough until he made eye contact with Peter. And held his gaze. Peter is glued in his spot. Body stiff, slightly shaking. Bucky leans over Tony’s shoulder and nudges his head against Tony’s. The man complies, takes his fingers out of his mouth and presents them to Bucky, who licks them clean of the last bits of red wine. Peter isn’t certain what he’s looking at, but he knows for sure that he can’t look away. His gaze is still locked with Tony’s and… Are Peter’s pants getting tighter? “We share everything, Peter,” Bucky says with a grin as he pulls back. Tony presses his fingers together and smirks. He finally breaks eye contact with Peter, but the boy can’t stop staring. Did that just happen? “It did,” Tony quips. Peter’s eyes go wide. Did he say that out loud? He turns away, picking up the wine bottle as he goes. “Peter?” He stops in his tracks, quietly hoping to disappear into the floor. He kissed Bucky. He kissed him. And now he’s here with his- With Tony. He requested Peter to wait their table and now… This. God, this is embarrassing. And hot. Unfairly hot. Peter slowly turns around, but keeps his eyes strained on the floor. “Thanks for the service.” Peter can hear Bucky’s shit eating grin, but they’re testing him. He knows. He’s very aware of what they want him to say and so, he’ll indulge. “My pleasure.” He nods at the floor and shifts to move back to the kitchen. Table S4’s order should be ready to go. He’s not sure how, but it’s like he can hear Tony’s voice in his head. Whispering. Tickling his ears from the inside. “Your pleasure.” James Buchanan Barnes “Did you see the look on his face?” Tony is the giddiest Bucky has ever seen him. “He’s perfect, Buck, absolutely perfect.” “I know.” Bucky leans back smugly and crosses his arms. Tony takes another sip of his wine, settling the excitement with some ineffective alcohol. “I want to keep him too,” he says quickly before letting the liquid coat his tongue. “How do you suggest we go about this?” He cocks an eyebrow at Bucky, who can’t help but smile. “We offer him a job.” “A job,” Tony repeats, raising his other eyebrow as well. Bucky cocks his head, not listening to whoever is talking on stage. Galas are the worst. “A job.” “Why?” “He’s poor.” Bucky sniffs and leans towards Tony to tell him the story. How Peter hadn’t eaten a meal for a while until Bucky took him out for spaghetti earlier today. How Peter, from the kindness of his heart, chased the dog and then offered to pay for the cold coffee Bucky had dropped, even though he didn’t even have fifteen dollars to his name. How Peter will be evicted from his home. Bucky talked about the subjects discussed on the date. Peter’s all alone and stuck in a vicious cycle until he manages to break free. He just needs the means to break free. And Tony and Bucky have those means. And their own needs. “Still a little shady.” “What? We’re just offering him a way out. Just a job.” “As what?” “I dunno. Personal assistant?” Tony snorts at that and puts down his glass. “To cater to all your wishes.” “Well, yeah?” Bucky shifts in his seat and rests his head in his hand, leaning his elbow on the table and taking a sip of his own glass of wine.  “You haven’t seen how he was this afternoon.” “You’re right, I haven’t. You told me about the ‘let go’ part. Had a lot of fun messing with his head just yet.” “Okay, but that means you saw it too.” Bucky tilts his head. “He’s stressed. On edge. Tired. Hungry. And most of all; he’s touch starved. And mind you, he kissed me. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t compel him to. He just did it. By himself. He wants this.” Tony sucks at his teeth and Bucky groans. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me he’s making you second guess your morals.” “I don’t want to use him.” Bucky stares at Tony in disbelief. “So, all the people you feed from aren’t being used by you?” “I don’t want to use him.” “Fine. Fine, me neither.” Bucky groans, pressing his face into his hand and rubbing it. “But I can’t let him go.” “How about we let him decide? We ask him. He can say yes or no.” Bucky tenses and sends Tony a worried look. “What if he says no?” He realizes he sounds scared. Bucky Barnes. Scared. Bucky from yesterday would laugh him in the face. “Then we’ll convince him,” Tony says determined. He nods and pushes a lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “The old fashioned way. Without dark magic.” “You’re saying we should stop playing with him?” Tony laughs and shakes his head. “No.” He takes his glass and chugs it, only to chug Bucky’s immediately afterwards. Empty glasses means a certain waiter would have to show up at their table again soon. “We won’t force him to be with us, but we can still play.” “How morally grey,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re disgusting.” “Love you too, Bucky bear.” . “It’s okay to feel uncomfortable with us, Peter. Are you uncomfortable?” “No, sir, I’m not,” Peter mumbles, staring into Bucky’s eyes after giving them their fourth glass of wine. Bucky knows it’s all formality. The boy’s still at work. He can’t say that to the people he’s… Serving. “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Don’t lie when you’re with us, Peter.” “Okay.” “Jesus, Buck, go easy, someone’ll catch on something’s off,” Tony says quickly and quietly. “Look at him, Tony, isn’t he wonderful?” “I’m… I’m right here,” Peter mutters, a slight frown curls his brows. “We know, we know. Forget we said that and go do your thing.” Peter blinks and his wide, fake, waiter smile returns. “Your food should be ready soon,” he says, bright and awake.  “Thank you, Peter.” Tony nods curtly and Peter shuffles where he stands before mumbling his reply and rushing off. “Mm. Pleasure.” . “Why are you uncomfortable with us?” Tony tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. “I, eh…” Peter stutters as he pours their ninth glass of wine. “Tony knows about the kiss,” Bucky adds nonchalantly. Peter stops pouring their beverages and takes a slight step back. He’s startled and takes a second to find his words. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you-” “I don’t mind,” Tony says with a grin. Peter stares at him wide-eyed, which makes Bucky chuckle. They’re going to have so much fun with him. Heck, they already are. “In fact…” Tony leans forward on the table and rests his elbow on it, placing his cheek in his hand. “...I’d like you to kiss me too.” Bucky can literally feel Peter’s hard on from where he’s sitting. The boy swallows and the steady but fast, beating of his heart thrums in Bucky’s ears.  “I’m working,” he replies and it has both men smile up at him. He didn’t say no. Peter quickly tilts the bottle again, emptying it with his lips pressed tightly on top of each other. It’s Bucky’s turn to show his gratitude to Peter, so he does. “Thank you, Peter.” The boy squirms where he stands and pivots to rush back to the kitchen. Though, his soft whimper didn’t go unnoticed. “Pleasure.” . “Oh, please, you haven’t resisted us before, why now?” Tony leans forward, obviously taking a whiff of Peter’s scent before curling up the corners of his mouth, fluttering his eyes innocently. “Work,” Peter pushes out, eyes strained on the bottle he’s tipping to pour Bucky’s seventeenth glass. He’s caught on that actually looking at the men makes him lose himself. Especially when they talk like that. Bucky wonders if Peter has any suspicions about what he and Tony are. Not to mention the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed at this point. He’s smart. He must know something is afoot.  “Well, we actually had a proposition about that.” Bucky’s regular voice gave Peter the confidence to look up at him, which was a mistake on his part, honestly. Bucky immediately traps him with his stare. “Proposition?” Peter asks quietly. “See, we were just discussing that we want to-”  Their conversation is cut short by a short yelp and the sound of glass shattering behind them. The scare breaks Peter away from Bucky and the boy immediately puts down the bottle to rush to the problem. Someone dropped their glass, coating the floor in white wine and covering it with thousands of tiny pieces. Some other guy rushes over, while Peter squats. He uses his tray to quickly pick up the larger glass pieces and asks the other waiter to grab a broom. Bucky and Tony stare hungrily at how Peter is bent over. Their imaginations run wild with the endless possibilities. All of them involve Peter in that exact position. Naked. Suddenly, Peter winces and sucks in a breath, cursing quietly. The enhanced scent immediately hits Bucky’s and Tony’s noses. Their pupils dilate fully and they grab onto each other to hold themselves back. Blood. Blood. Blood. They stare at how Peter raises his hand to look at the damage, only to put his blood covered index finger into his mouth. Sucking on it. “Jesus Christ-” Tony spits out through gritted teeth. Bucky can only growl. The smell and the sight are dizzying and the need to sink their teeth into Peter is becoming overwhelming. “Peter!” The other guy returns and has spotted Peter’s situation. “Bwad-” Peter tries to speak, but his finger is keeping him from pronouncing all the letters. He takes it out of his mouth to show it to ‘Bwad.’ Tony and Bucky are shaking. The blood flows fast, already trickling down his fingers, so he swiftly puts it back into his mouth. Bucky wishes he didn’t hear Peter’s soft sounds. Yet, he wants to hear nothing but those soft sounds.  “Sheesh, Pete, go get a bandaid for that. And some alcohol-” ‘Bwad’ says disgusted. “And stop sucking on it, you’re not a vampire.” Peter freezes when ‘Bwad’ says that and he whips his head to look at Bucky and Tony with large eyes. Bingo. He caught on. Bucky grins wide, no longer trying to hide his fangs and he raises one eyebrow, using his head to gesture at the finger still in Peter’s mouth. Peter takes a deep breath and rushes to the kitchen. . Bucky isn’t surprised to see Peter walking out of the kitchen again, a new wine bottle in hand. The boy is bold and he obviously knows what he wants. It’s the exact reason why Tony and Bucky didn’t chase him. They knew he’d come back. “You were talking about a proposition?” Peter initiates the conversation this time, aiming to pour the next glass for Tony. However, the man catches his wrist and pulls Peter’s hand with the bandaid closer to his nose. “I thought you said the wine you’re serving is your deepest shade of red.” “Not anymore, you drank it all.” Bucky is surprised by Peter’s sudden sassiness. He’s no longer the polite waiter. He’s Peter again. For them. And he’s not afraid of what they are. “Well, then…” Tony sighs, closing his eyes and pressing Peter’s bandaged index fingers against his nostrils. “Why don’t you give us your deepest shade of red?” “Is that why you’ve been doing all of this?” Peter asks quietly, not wanting to gain attention from anyone around them, yet also not pulling back his hand. “You want to suck me dry?” “No,” Bucky says with a kind smile. “We want to do so much more than that.” “The proposition.” Peter stares at Bucky, who guesses he’s waiting for the man to compel him again, but he doesn’t. “We want you to be our personal assistant. An exciting job that matches your intellect, good pay, insurance, great sex, a roof over your head, we even got dental-” “Woah, woah, wait-” “Sex. Yeah. I said sex.” Bucky grins. “Don’t you want that? Want us?” Tony tenderly kisses the bandaid and Peter shivers. “I do.” Peter frowns and takes a second to collect his thoughts. “But I can’t just- I can’t-” He looks back to the floor and the kitchen and Bucky follows his gaze. His manager’s eyes are on him. This could get him fired. On the spot. “Peter, trust me when I tell you that never in our entire undead lives have we met anyone as utterly captivating as you are. We don’t want to kill you. We don’t want to hurt you. We want to keep you.” “Keep…” Peter mulls over Bucky’s words, turning his head to look at the two men again. “So, I’ll be your pet?” “You’ll still be you. You’ll have a life. Just… With us in it.” Tony shrugs. It’s almost strange how casual they are about this. “Will you…” Peter stops talking, slightly embarrassed at what he wants from them. “Will we…?” Tony looks up at him, patient but curious. “Will you compel me?” “Do you want that?” Bucky asks immediately. He knows what it does to Peter to be controlled like that. “I… It’s not something I want to discuss here.” “Tell us,” Bucky orders. A shiver goes up Peter’s spine and he closes his eyes, complying straight away. “The feeling is so nice, I- It makes me horny.” “Oh, does it?” Tony coos. “You’ve been so submissive all evening already. And now you’re telling us it’s because we can control your mind? Most people would run if they were in your position.” “I want this,” Peter mumbles. “I’ve got nothing left to lose anyways.” “Oh!” Tony exclaims, trying to stay quiet in order to keep the other tables from looking at them. “He wants this,” he says to Bucky, before turning to Peter again. “You want this! We truly hit the jackpot, Buck.” “You’re really not going to kill me?” Peter asks quietly. A bit of fear seeps through and Bucky immediately takes Peter’s other hand in his, tracing the tips of his fingers over the prominent veins on his wrist. “And waste all of you?” Bucky whispers, looking up at Peter in awe. “I’d rather kill myself.” “What’s so special about me anyways?” Peter sucks at his teeth, trying to ignore Tony’s soft lips and Bucky’s cold fingers against his skin. “You could have anyone. Why me?” “You have no idea how good you smell,” Tony sighs. “S-smell?” “We’re going to have to take a look into why you’re so intense and addictive, but believe us when we say that you’re making us lose our minds,” Bucky chuckles. “With us, you’ll be the safest you’ve ever been. No one will touch our flower. You’ll live with us, we’ll share our riches with you. We want to give you everything, Peter; A fulfilling life, a purpose, all the pleasure you can imagine. More.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as they all realize what this means. “Will you...?” Peter asks again. “Will we...?” Tony replies playfully. Peter nods slowly, doing his best to find the courage to finish his sentence. “Will you compel me?” “With pleasure.” Bucky immediately takes hold of Peter’s mind. “You want to stop worrying, don’t you, pretty Peter?” The mention of the nickname Bucky had used on him before has Peter twitch where he stands. Tony has started kissing his entire hand, licking the veins on his wrist. “Yes.” “Do you want us to take all your heavy thoughts away? Replace them with good thoughts- thoughts we want you to think?” Peter nods, eyes strained on Bucky’s. “Do you want to let go for us?” “Please-” “Let go.” Peter’s knees give in for a split second, but it’s enough for Bucky to have to catch Peter as he drops. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter’s snapped back into reality sandwiched between Tony’s and Bucky’s shoulders. Their arms are wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. They’re walking down the stairs of the venue, but Peter doesn’t recall walking out. The cold November air hits his skin and he takes a deep breath. “Hello, there,” Bucky chuckles. “H-hey?” “No worries, we just want you to know where we’re taking you. We’ll put you back under when we reach the bedroom.” Peter jolts, standing more sturdy on his feet at the mention of their destination. “PETER!” He turns his head to see Beck, staring at him wide-eyed, arms spread in confusion. “Your shift’s not done, where do you think you’re going?!” It’s quiet for a second, but Peter doesn’t even consider lying. He knows he’s in good hands. He knows they speak the truth. He knows he’s better off without Beck. Without this job. “I quit,” he whispers. Both Bucky and Tony stare at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” Beck yelps. Peter stands up more straight and rolls his shoulders, finding the courage to repeat himself, but louder. “I quit.” “Y-you can’t just-” “I can. I quit.” Peter moves to get into the car and tosses his black apron on the sidewalk. “What about all the guests?” There’s a hint of desperation in Beck’s voice and Peter shakes his head. “Pull your own weight for a change.” The car door shuts. Peter is still pressed between the two taller men, who stare at Peter. Stunned. “Did- did you tell him to say that?” Bucky mumbles to Tony. Peter scoffs a laugh. “I didn’t,” Tony answers honestly and ends it with a groan. “Kid, you’re gonna be the death of us.” “Aren’t you already dead?” “Touché.” . Stark Tower. The building Peter could only dream of working at during his time at MIT. The dream crumbled when he dropped out. He didn’t dare think about setting foot into this place without a degree or doctorate of some kind. He couldn’t imagine getting the attention of Tony Stark, the man he’d looked up to since his childhood. And now he’s here. In the elevator to the penthouse, the living quarters, being held by Bucky and his boyfriend. Tony Stark. If he really is dreaming right now, he never wants to wake up again. But it feels too real. Their cold fingers wrapped around his arms, stroking his skin delicately and gently. They make terribly casual conversation for the current situation. Peter answers all their questions, though. Tries to engage, but he can’t stop looking around. Perks of a glass elevator is that he can see every floor. All the labs, all the test areas. Some floors are blinded for their own reasons, which is fair, but it’s obvious Tony has the glass elevator installed to show off. Peter falls quiet in the middle of a sentence about the last project he’d worked on when he was still at MIT, involving nanotechnology, and frowns. The question leaves his lips before he realizes how rude it is. “How old are you?” Tony bursts out laughing. “Older than I look.” “No- but-” “Bucky’s nearing… Three centuries?” “You wound me, Tony, you don’t even remember my age?” “Details, details, Buck.” Tony smirks. “How old am I, then?” “You’re a young sprite. Got your ninety-second birthday coming up, don’t you? I sired you when you were forty-seven.” Bucky puts up a cocky smile and raises one eyebrow. “Now you’re just making me look bad.” Tony pouts. “Why don’t people wonder about that? Y-your age, I mean?” Peter purses his lips, trying to recall a time when magazines and news outlets questioned Tony’s looks compared to his age. He doesn’t. “Well, I took over from my ‘father,’ obviously,” Tony chuckles. “Wait, that was you too?” “The resemblance is striking.” Tony looks incredibly pleased with himself. “That’s… That’s insane.” Peter stares ahead, trying to have it all make sense in his brain. “How old are you?” Tony asks with a genuine smile. “Twenty-three.” “Only a babe,” Bucky chuckles and Peter turns to face them both, cheeks puffed. “I’m not a child!” “You say to the two-hundred-seventy-six year old man.” “What- you want me to call you great great great grandpa?” “Dear god, no.” “Then don’t call me babe-” Peter gets pulled against Bucky’s chest, a wide grin spreads on the man’s face. His cold breath tickles Peter’s skin. Peter shakes, but can’t help but push in too. Bucky’s hard and he gently grinds against Peter. The boy whimpers. “Not even in the bedroom?” Peter flutters his eyes, now very aware what the gesture does to the men he’s with and he whispers seductively. “Only in the bedroom.” . This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a small palace. Dark granite tiles, a gigantic glass bathtub in the middle of the room, the bed is so large it could fit five people generously. The sheets are a deep shade of red and the room even has space for an extensive sitting area. It’s insane. His studio would barely be considered a cupboard compared to this. “Here’s where the magic happens.” Tony places his hands on Peter’s shoulders and leans over. He looks at Peter expectantly, but all Peter can do is stare, mouth opened slightly. “Is it too much?”  “You haven’t seen where he lives, Tones-” That comment snaps Peter out of it and he turns to give Bucky an accusatory glare. “So you did know about my studio!” “I followed you home. Shoot me. You smell too good.” “Thanks.” A short awkward silence falls and the slight frown on his face betrays that Peter is thinking about something. “My dream…” “Was nice, wasn’t it?” Bucky grins and takes a step closer to Peter, taking his hands to lift them to Peter’s heart. They feel the beat quickening slightly. “You’re unbelievable.” Peter’s breath is shaky. Bucky leans in until their noses touch.  “Hey, you were obviously enjoying yourself. Too bad you set that alarm. I’d have let you come.” “You gave him a wet dream?” Tony scoffs and slightly squeezes his fingers into Peter’s shoulders.  “I did,” Bucky says proudly. “It was very convincing.” Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Like I said; unbelievable.” “Hmm, but Pete… Did you end up coming at all?” Tony’s words tickle Peter’s ear and he shivers, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Oh, the torture.” Tony’s hands slowly move down Peter’s arms to caress his waist and then grip his hips. “You want to come, don’t you?” His trimmed beard scratches Peter’s jaw. All Peter can do is nod, paired with a soft whimper. Yes. He wants to come. Let go. For them. Suddenly, both Bucky and Tony let go of Peter and he sucks in a breath. “Let’s give him a tour of the room, shall we?” Tony claps his hands once and Peter’s quiet, frustrated groan doesn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be so needy, babe-” Bucky says with a smirk, but Peter quickly replies. “Don’t call me that.” Bucky raises an eyebrow and gestures at the bed. “Well… We’re in the bedroom, aren’t we?” James Buchanan Barnes Tony and Bucky show Peter every corner of the room. In the least sexual way possible. And it’s driving Peter nuts. They can tell how much he’s aching for their touch by how he fiddles his fingers, how his shoulders are slightly raised and how he holds his breath whenever either of the men speaks. Bucky opens the door to the bathroom and guides Peter in, Tony right behind him. Once again, dark tiles, lots of glass, another tub, some lounge chairs, nothing Bucky hasn’t seen before. Peter, however, is stunned and both Bucky and Tony notice the kid is not really taking in any part of the bathroom, except for the shower. It’s separated from the bathroom with a glass wall and you can walk into it from two sides. The look on Peter’s face is difficult to place. Curled up brows, a trembling lip and dewy eyes, strained on… The shower. Oh, no. “What’s going through your head?” Bucky asks carefully. He doesn’t want Peter to feel called out, but he knows what’s up. Peter immediately drops his gaze and stares at his feet, pressing his hands together embarrassed. “I- Nothing.” “Nothing?” Tony steps around Peter to look at him from the front, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you like it?” “Tones-” Bucky raises one hand to stop his boyfriend from speaking. He’s been rich since birth, he doesn’t know what poverty is like. What hardships it brings. “Talk to us, Pete. Tell us what you want.” Peter turns to lock gazes with Bucky. He holds his head high, but he’s obviously not happy with what Bucky asked of him. “I don’t want your pity.” “I’m not pitying you, Peter.” “You are!” Peter hugs himself and steps away from the two significantly older men. He breaks eye contact and sniffs. “I’m- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.” “Sheesh, kid, it’s gonna take a little more to ruffle our feathers than a slightly raised voice.” Tony cocks his head and sucks at his teeth. “I’ll rephrase, okay?” Bucky says with a nod. “Why were you staring at the shower?” “You know the answer.” “Not the specifics.” “Is this some kind of insider thing that I’m not a part of?” Tony asks, confused. The younger vampire glances at the shower, and when Bucky notices, it suddenly hits him. “Warm water.” “Fine! Okay, you got me. It got cut off a little over a month ago. I needed the place more than the hot water, so I compromised,” Peter confesses, turning his back so he can hide his red face and the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Bucky had already seen them, though. “Would you like to take a shower?” “N-no.” “Peter,” Tony threatens. It’s soft, though. He steps forward and curls his fingers around Peter’s shoulders again, slowly turning him around so the boy faces them again. Peter lets it happen and he gasps quietly when Tony moves to unbutton his white dress shirt. “We want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself. If you want that shower… We’ll gladly join you.” Peter stares up into Tony’s eyes and right when the two men expect Peter to give in, he places his hands over Tony’s. “Why are you so kind to me?” He glances at both men. “Honest to god, kid, I wish I knew.” Tony scoffs a soft laugh, but Peter doesn’t smile along. “I smell good to you now. You like me now,” he frowns. “I just quit my weekend job. What if, tomorrow, you don’t like me anymore? You’re just gonna toss me out, aren’t you?” “No,” Bucky says resolutely, taking a large step towards Tony and Peter. The young vampire takes a slight step to the side, allowing Bucky to stand in front of Peter as well. “Not after everything that’s happened today. I’d never.” The man cups Peter’s face with his cold hand and his lip quivers. “I will make you feel loved and cherished- will give you anything and everything, so long as your promise to be mine.” He takes a deep breath and corrects himself. “Ours.” A strange silence settles between the three of them. Bucky’s words were a promise of sorts. A promise that meant more to Peter than either of the immortals could ever fathom. The boy’s voice is fragile when he speaks. “What if I don’t want to be yours?” “Then you’d be lying.” “Probably,” Peter mumbles, averting his gaze. He takes a breath in through his nose. “Are you going to lock me in here?” “Of course not,” Tony says softly. His smile is kind and genuine. Tony never smiles like this with anyone other than Bucky. His hand moves to caress Peter, push through his hair and let the boy lean into him. “We’re not monsters. Well- we are, but not like that.” Peter gives them a lopsided smile, crooked. His cheeks flush, but his eyes water more and more until Bucky catches a tear with his thumb. “This isn’t real,” Peter whispers. “I’m gonna wake up, aren’t I? And you’ll be gone.” Tony immediately moves to stand behind Peter. Bucky shuffles until he’s right in front of the small, stressed, young man, so he can press his forehead against Peter’s. Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s waist in an embrace and gently scratches his beard over Peter’s skin. “Allow us to prove you wrong,” Bucky whispers, his cool breath mingling with Peter’s warm one. Peter has his eyes closed, but his shoulders twitch. “How?” “Share your night with us.” Tony’s deep voice creates goosebumps all over Peter’s skin. Bucky leans in closer, wanting to taste Peter on his lips again. The man is pleasantly surprised when Peter, against all expectations, takes initiative by pressing his mouth against Bucky’s in an open kiss. Bucky smiles into it, licking Peter’s lips. The boy immediately grants him access and Tony continues his proposition.  “Entangle your body with ours- let us take away your stress, your worries. Sleep and wake, with your head on our chests, our fingers caressing your glowing skin as we kiss it. Kiss you.” Tony pairs his sweet words with gentle pecks and a slight drag of his pointed teeth over Peter’s skin. Peter gasps, his hips automatically pushing forward against Bucky’s thigh. The man breaks their kiss and whispers. “If you decide that this is not what you want, we will let you go.” “I- I want this,” Peter moans, pushing back in to continue their kiss, hands finally raising to grab Bucky’s face- tug his hair. “Want it all-” Tony’s hands move up to continue undoing the buttons of Peter’s shirt, pressed between Bucky’s and Peter’s body. “-Want it to be real.” “It is.” The shiver that goes down Peter’s spine does not go unnoticed and the men grin. “How about I run that shower?” Tony mumbles as he slips the shirt down Peter’s arms. Peter breaks free from the kiss and looks at Tony wide-eyed. “No- actually, I…” He stutters and the men both look at him quizzically. “I…” “Tell us what you want, Peter,” Bucky says softly, tilting his head to try and catch Peter’s averted gaze. When Peter looks up, there’s embarrassment, yet… Arousal. Oh. Bucky knows exactly what Peter wants. “Tell us what you want.” Peter’s eyes glaze over slightly and he whimpers. All Bucky can think of is how lucky he and Tony are to have found someone like Peter. This deliciously sweet, submissive young man whose cock twitches when he gives up his mind, is right here in front of them. He wants to be controlled. Wants them. And oh, how they want him too. “Do it myself.” Peter sounds slightly embarrassed. “Wh- shower?” Tony says with a cocked head, slightly amused. Peter nods shyly, not breaking eye contact with Bucky. An idea sparks in Bucky’s mind. It’s filthy and voyeuristic and most likely exactly what Peter wants too. “Oh, Peter… Go have that shower. You deserve it.” His hands caress Peter’s face one more time before letting go. “Do what feels right. What feels good. This is your bathroom. We’re not here.” Peter blinks a few times, processing the command, before stretching his back and letting his shoulders slouch a little more. Bucky and Tony don’t exist anymore. It’s just him in this bathroom. Tony grins at Bucky and tosses the white shirt on the floor, pushing his hand through his hair and sitting down in one of the lounge chairs. Bucky gives him a sly smirk and cocks an eyebrow. Both men have their attention pulled back to Peter, who kicks off his pants and socks. They suck in a breath at the sight of Peter’s physique. He’s more toned than they’d expected him to be. Lean, yet strong. How his clothes hid his true shape, is a mystery to them. Bucky can feel his cock stir when Peter cups his own shaft through his underwear while turning on the shower with his other hand. Oh, yes… Bucky thinks. This oughta be good. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter turns on the tap and stares at it for a second. He’s suddenly unsure how to use it, which is weird cause this is his bathroom, right? How could he forget how his own shower works? He fiddles a bit with the faucet until the water turns warm. Something inside him is confused. Didn’t his hot water get cut off?  “Ah, well,” he mumbles to himself. It’s a habit he picked up in all those months spent by himself. Not having anyone to talk to resulted in him just filling up the empty space with his own words. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts...” He takes off his boxers and absentmindedly cups his hard shaft like he did before. The underwear is lazily tossed to the side and Peter reaches his hand into the shower. It’s strange to feel the warm water on his hands after so long. It makes him realize how cold he actually is. Slowly, he steps under the stream of warm water and turns it up a tad, just because he can. God, this is nice. It’s not long before he pushes his head under, holding his breath as his hair clings to his forehead. It’s been forever since he’s had a shower like this. For now, he can’t even be bothered to figure out where he put the soap. He just wants to stay right there. Forever. Warm. A small smile creeps onto his face when he remembers Bucky’s coat, enveloping him earlier that day. Though it was cold at first, it quickly warmed up through Peter’s body heat. Not a surprise, everything about Bucky made Peter feel hot. Bucky. The man had haunted his thoughts all day. Heck, he even dreamed about him. Peter’s arousal spikes at the memory of Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his shaft, his lips next to Peter’s ear to whisper filth and make him beg. Peter pulls his head out from under the stream and topples it backwards to take a big breath, open mouthed, eyes closed. The hot water hits his chest, causing his nipples to spring to attention. The fingers he has still wrapped around his shaft, squeeze softly. Peter lets out a shaky breath and stifles a moan. His eyes are pressed shut. He imagines the metal hand caressing his skin. The thought alone has him shiver. His hand moves slowly at first, pumping and squeezing and, God, it feels insanely good.  “F-Fuck,” he whimpers, raising his free hand to start tweaking one of the sensitive buds on his chest. His back arches slightly and he sticks out his butt a little. Suddenly, there’s a presence on either side of him. He opens his eyes, but there’s nothing to be seen. His sight is slightly warped, but something in the back of his head tells him everything is just fine. He’s there by himself. In his bathroom. “You’re holding back again…” Peter’s eyes go wide and he looks further up, confused at where the voice came from. Was that… Bucky? “Thinking of me, pretty thing?” Peter blushes. How is his imagination so vivid? So real? It sounds like Bucky is right there, in front of him and- Peter gasps when two cold fingers suddenly tease his other nipple. What is- Where is- “Answer me.” “Yes.” Peter doesn’t know where he’s looking but he can’t look away. His gaze is locked with something in front of him. Someone. Taller. But there’s nothing there…? “Gah,” Bucky groans quietly. “I just can’t get enough of you.” A tongue presses against Peter’s lips and he immediately complies and parts his own. The invisible tongue curls in and comes back out only for the imaginary mouth to suckle on Peter’s top lip. Peter closes his eyes and moans again. “Wish you were really here,” Peter sighs. “Mm…” Bucky chuckles and out of nowhere a second pair of hands glide over Peter’s wet, naked body. His hips buck when the other’s index finger dips into his crack and caresses past his hole. “We are,” another voice whispers into Peter’s ear from behind. Tony Stark. Holy- Peter opens his eyes again and gasps under the attention. Tony’s hands grab Peter’s hips to angle him and grant better access to his ass. Peter’s back arches further, brain completely confused at what’s happening. His limbs hang limp. He’s convinced he’s by himself. But how is this happening? He’s alone? He’s not? He’s- what’s going on? His mouth opens, wanting to say something, but he’s halted when a digit plays with the rim of his hole. “M-Mr. Stark?” “That’s me, baby, let me have a taste…” The fingers at his entrance are replaced with a tongue, immediately dipping in. Peter moans obscenely and bucks even further back, craving more. “Eyes on me, Peter,” Bucky’s voice says in front of him. Peter didn’t realize he’d shut them, but when he opens them again, there’s still no one there. He’s by himself. In his bathroom. This… This is his bathroom right? He can imagine them, though. Vividly. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes, right there. “E-Eyes on you,” Peter stutters, flinching with every flick of Tony’s tongue in his ass. “Good boy.” Peter’s jaw falls slack at the praise. His eyes would’ve rolled back if he wasn’t forced to keep looking into the icy blues that weren’t actually there. Or… Were they? No…? His confusion keeps getting mixed with pleasure as the two pairs of hands ignite every inch of skin. Hot water splashes all over the bathroom as Peter’s lifted off the ground. His head is all over the place. He’s certain he’s alone. There’s no one else here. But then, how is any of this happening? How are his feet completely detached from the floor? He’s pressed against a cold body and instinctively wraps his legs around the ghost figure. He’s up relatively high, cock pressing against imaginary Bucky’s abs and- is this really imaginary? “Can you keep up with yourself, Petey?” Bucky coos. Peter pants with yearning, his brain overloading with the mixed messages it’s receiving. He’s completely and utterly convinced he’s alone, yet he’s not. He’s being taken care of by two people. By Tony and Bucky. But he’s not. He’s alone. And fuck, it feels so good and he needs more but he can’t move his arms, but how could he possibly get there without touching himself because he’s alone? A whine slips from Peter’s lips. “Makes n-no sense, can’t- can’t make sense-” His head swims with pleasure as Tony’s tongue keeps lapping at him, hands squeezing the cheeks of Peter’s ass. Bucky is still keeping him up in the air, softly rubbing Peter up and down against himself with his strong arms. Peter’s eyes are still strained on the nothing in front of him, but his forehead rests against imaginary/not imaginary Bucky’s. Peter’s unaware he’s still babbling gibberish until Bucky’s voice vibrates the air around him. “Ssh… Pretty Peter...” Peter’s entire body slacks in Bucky’s hold and he could practically hear Bucky grinning through his words. “Does it have to make sense?” Does it? Does it really? A faint smile spreads on Peter’s face when he truly gives in. Not that he was fighting before, but it feels like whatever Bucky said just shut down his brain completely. It doesn’t have to make sense. He’s alone. He’s not alone. It doesn’t matter. He’s feeling good. So good. Wants to feel even better. All he has to do is… “Let it happen…” Bucky’s tongue flicks Peter’s upper lip just as Tony’s tongue dips in far enough to graze past his prostate. Peter gasps and jolts but almost immediately relaxes again, letting his feet practically dangle. He knows he’s taken care of. He doesn’t have to do anything. Doesn’t have to worry about anything. He just has to feel good. Let it happen. His mind is turned off, yet his body is turned on. Very much so… Peter doesn’t know how long he’s like this, floating, the warm stream of water massaging the skin of his back, cock rubbing against Bucky and ass eaten by Tony Stark. But it feels like heaven. He can barely remember his name when he’s brought back to his feet, though he can’t stand. Not by himself. “You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispers. Peter wants to protest Tony’s tongue leaving his hole, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He feels too good to even barely function. He was pretty sure he was still breathing, but that was about it. The ghost hands gently scrub Peter’s tired body clean. The orchid scent fills his nostrils and clouds his mind even more, though he wasn’t sure if that was even possible. He shivers when one of the hands grabs his shaft and starts massaging it, moving up to cup his balls and fondle them. “Perfect,” Tony sighs against Peter’s shoulder, pressing kisses on the freshly washed skin. “You are absolutely perfect…” “Nng-” Peter drops his head back against Tony’s chest, lazily rolling his hips into the hand that’s giving him all the attention right now. “Our perfect, pretty, puppet - Peter Parker…” “Puppet…” Peter sighs and smiles, turning his head to the side to press a kiss on the invisible figure of Tony Stark. If his brain still worked, he’d have known he was suckling on Tony’s collar bone. “Yours…” “Oh, I’d kill to get those soft lips on my cock,” Tony whispers in his ear. Peter looks up into nothingness, doe-eyed and yearning, imagining Tony’s face close to his. His hair sticks to his face and the hot water tickles his sides as it runs down his body. “Please?” The dark chuckle that follows, turns Peter to putty. “Did you just beg to suck me off, sweet thing?” A blush creeps onto Peter’s face and he turns to hide himself against Tony’s chest. The ghost embraces him, pressing their cocks together and massaging Peter’s scalp. Peter whimpers and rubs himself against nothing. Or something. It doesn’t matter. It feels good. “You’re a lot less innocent than you seemed when I first met you, aren’t you?” Bucky coos. One pair of hands lets go of Peter and not much later the water pressure decreases. Peter glances to the side to watch the faucet turn by itself until the shower is no longer running. A towel floats towards him and he’s gently wrapped into it. Peter sways on his feet, mind still turned off, as he’s turned around. “Look at me,” Bucky orders. Peter obeys and stares up at the eyes in the back of his mind. “Come back to us, remember us, see us.” James Buchanan Barnes The look of realization on Peter’s face is absolutely everything. The haze that had covered his eyes slowly fades and after a few blinks Peter tenses every muscle in his body and freezes in place. Everything he had ‘imagined,’ turned out to be real. “Hello there,” Bucky coos as he immediately wraps his fingers around Peter’s cock again. The young man gasps and bucks, and the way his face twists with pleasure tells Bucky everything he needs to know. He squeezes at the base, preventing Peter from cumming his brains out. His brains might have already been jumbled up, but Bucky isn’t done with him yet. He’ll truly make Peter lose his mind later. Peter’s body convulses and twitches- wants to get away from Bucky’s grasp so he can shoot his load, but Tony holds on to him. Keeps him where they want him. A sob escapes Peter’s lips and his muscles lose tension until he lets himself hang in Tony’s arms like he did before, completely void of any strength to keep himself upright. “Did that feel good?” Tony whispers in Peter’s ear. Peter can only nod, eyes rolled back and jaw hanging slack. “Good.” Peter shudders, only barely holding onto the towel that’s still wrapped around his body. Tony swiftly picks him up and nods at Bucky, who opens the door for them so they can put Peter on their bed. The boy immediately curls up in the towel and babbles something incoherently. “What was that?” Bucky lays down behind Peter and wraps his arms around him. Peter’s bare ass is protected by the layer of towel between them, but Bucky knows it won’t be long now… “I’ve never felt this good before,” Peter whispers. Tony chuckles and sits down on the other side of the bed, one leg pulled in, showing off his hard cock right in front of Peter’s face. Peter stares at it with a dark hunger in his eye and Bucky’s pretty sure that if Tony were to scoot slightly closer, Peter would eat it. “W-want you to feel good too.” “We are feeling good,” Bucky sighs against Peter’s neck. He takes a deep breath, relishing in Peter’s scent and leans in further to kiss the skin, feeling the veins throb beneath it. His hand snakes into the towel to trace his thumb back and forth over Peter’s cock. The shaft twitches and Peter moans. “Wanna make you- oh- make you feel even better, then.” Peter pushes his ass back against Bucky’s crotch. Bucky glances up at Tony and both men grin. “We’ve had decades and centuries to get our fill…” Bucky’s sharp teeth glide over the prominent artery of Peter’s neck. “Quite literally,” Tony adds with a nod. “Surely, we should be able to only give for one night.” Peter stays quiet for a second and then wiggles and turns in Bucky’s arms until he’s on his back so he can look at both men. Bucky leans back a little to give Peter some space. “What if I want you to take?” Bucky’s grin grows even wider, canines baring, and he pushes his thumb against Peter’s cock with a tiny bit more force. Peter is already slightly rolling his hips again and Bucky can’t help but wonder how in the world they managed to be so lucky to find him. “Then we’ll take.” The obscene moan Peter makes then, has Bucky growl and pull the towel from between them to throw it to the floor. His hips push and roll until his erect cock breaches the crack of Peter’s ass . The young man immediately arches his back to press further, eliciting a moan from Bucky. Jesus, this kid feels amazing. “Please,” Peter begs. And, oh, he begs so beautifully. “Please, take it all- take me, use me.” “Oh-” Bucky groans and pulls Peter even closer to him, entangling their legs and spreading his cheeks with one hand. The drag is dry and coarse, but one glance at Tony has the younger vampire rush to the nightstand to grab the lube. “How could we refuse an offer as tempting and gorgeous as that? As you?” Peter whines again as his hand grasps back to grab onto Bucky. His fingers dig into the immortal’s skin, while his ass is slowly going in circles “P-please-” “Please, what?” Buck grins as he turns them over, propping himself up against the bed rest and seating Peter on his thighs with his legs on either side, back freed from Bucky’s chest. He can no longer see Peter’s face, but the way his shoulders raise and his head ducks, is all Bucky needs. “Petey, please, what?” Peter shivers. Bucky has no way of telling what expressions wash over the younger man’s face, but suddenly, Tony gets on the bed again, sitting down right in front of Peter, on top of Bucky’s legs. “Look at me,” Tony orders and Peter’s muscles immediately relax when his eyes lock with Tony’s infinite browns, demanding and swirling like a pouring bottle of scotch. Bucky never admits it, but both men know Bucky is just as weak for Tony’s compulsion as any mortal is. Something about his sire is so intoxicatingly entrancing. He might have many years on Tony, but when the billionaire’s in charge, all he has to do is practice his black magic and Bucky turns into an eager, submissive fucking machine, ready to obey and serve his Master and his cock...  Wait.  Bucky turns his head away and scoffs a laugh. “You’re horrible.” “Hmm, it was worth a try...” Tony’s cheeky grin was evident through his words. His attention is quickly turned back to their new toy. “Peter…” “Yes?” Peter’s reply was a delayed sigh, sounding slightly distant and detached, as is usually the case with their thralls, if they even replied. Most weren’t strong enough to even move their lips. Peter is special, Bucky is certain. “Tell us what you want. Tell us exactly what you want to do. What you want us to do. The words we should use. The ones you want to use. Tell us.” Peter nods along gently with every word Tony utters, like a bobble head refusing to cease its movement, delicately bouncing up and down. “Everything.” As Peter attempts his arousal fueled monologue, Tony caresses his jaw and lifts his chin until Peter has no choice but to follow up and detach his ass from Bucky’s thighs. Their eyes are still locked together and the billionaire’s intense stare ensures Peter complies without protesting the loss of friction. Tony tosses Bucky the lube who licks his lips and gets to work, lubing his cock generously and stroking himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.. “I- I want…” Peter’s breath is shaky. Still uncertain. Scared. “Hey,” Tony whispers as he scoots closer, pulling Peter in by gently tugging at his chin. Their breaths mingle and Peter flutters his glassy eyes. “You don’t have to worry anymore. We got you. We’re going to take care of you.” Their noses touch and Peter nearly goes cross eyed.  “Let go.” Peter gasps and pushes in to press their lips together in a desperate kiss. His hips roll, cock twitching and thudding against his lower abdomen. Bucky groans as he strokes his cock faster, relishing in the display happening above him. His metal hand creeps up and squeezes Peter’s ass, resulting in a filthy moan, muffled against Tony’s lips. His lube-covered index finger then wiggles its way towards Peter’s hole. The young man twitches when Bucky circles the rim teasingly. Tony’s fingers are curled around Peter’s throat, possessively rubbing the tips into the skin and over the veins. He breaks the kiss and his voice is low. “Tell us.” “I want you to love me. Own me. Want to stop thinking and be mindless. Willing. Suggestible.” With every word Peter moans, Bucky pushes his finger in further. “Want to be yours and u-used. A slut for your cocks. A slave for y-your touch.” Bucky adds a second finger and pumps a little faster, curling his fingers in the search for Peter’s sweet spot. Peter relaxes so easily around his digits. Bucky can’t wait to rail him. “Want you to put me under your spell. Make me addicted to your sex. Ready and waiting for you to fuck my prepped holes at any time as you see fit. Want it all.” Peter moans as Bucky’s metal hand digs into the skin at his hip and pulls him down, lining him up with Bucky’s cock. “Want to be filled.” Bucky immediately grants his wish and replaces his finger with the head of his dick. Slowly, he pushes in. Peter can barely hold his composure as he continues. “H-horny and desperate, hard and aching-nng-” “Good boy,” Tony praises as he slowly lifts Peter’s hips and pushes him back down to bottom out. “Such a good, pretty boy.” Peter shivers and throws his head back, only to be pulled up straight again by Tony’s calloused hands. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Peter blinks twice and moans at the drag on his insides. Bucky guesses the boy is becoming familiar with the hazy feeling, succumbing more easily with every wave of enforced submission that washes over him. Bucky knows the feeling all too well. Loves it all the same. Bucky lays still, savouring the feeling of being inside Peter. He’ll let Tony do all the work. “Look-Luh… Ye…” “What’s that, puppet?” “Yes.” “Yes… What?” “Y… What- what do you want me to call you?” Bucky lets out a surprised laugh. “Oh, we get to pick?” “You’re in charge,” Peter mumbles honestly, still staring straight into Tony’s eyes. “P-please, tell me what to call you-” Bucky’s cock twitches inside Peter and the vampire groans quietly. “Hmm,” Tony hums, inching closer to Peter again and letting his hands roam the younger man’s sides. “You want to be our slave, don’t you?” Peter barely moved, but it was obvious he nodded. “Yes-” “You want to serve us? Please us? Obey us?” “Yes, yes, please-” “Be our pretty puppet? Our toy?” “Please-” Tony rolls his ass once and Bucky’s face twists with pleasure. “Play with me?” “Oh, doll, of course-” Bucky growls as his hands grab Peter’s hips in an attempt to push him even further down onto him, if that were even possible. “We’ll play with you all night…” “After too?” The words would’ve sounded so innocent if they weren’t paired with an obscene moan. “Forever, if you’ll let us,” Tony whispers as he licks a stripe over Peter’s collarbone. “Forever-” Peter repeats breathlessly, raising himself up with the last strength he has so he can fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. “God, doll, you feel so good around me,” Bucky moans as he pushes his hips up to meet with Peter’s. Tony sits back up straight again so he can capture Peter with his eyes once more. “Doing so well for us, Peter,” he praises, taking Peter’s face in his hands, cupping his jaw and drawing circles over the skin with his thumbs. Peter shivers and clenches around Bucky, eliciting another moan from him. “Not too fast, sweet thing,” Tony chuckles. “Savor it... Keep your gaze locked with mine as you go up and down on Bucky’s cock.” He speaks slowly, with a dark undertone, and Bucky has to remind himself to keep his shit together, or he will fall for Tony just as hard. “Up…” Tony waits patiently for Peter to get to his knees again. “And down… Thaaat’s it. Again…” “Good boy…” “Just like that…” “Up… And down…” “Feels good doesn’t it?” “Doing as told…” “Obeying my commands…” “Up… And down…” “There’s so much pleasure in obedience…” “Just let it happen… Let go…” “Up… And down... “ “Feel the drag of his cock inside you… How it throbs and pulsates…” “That’s right, moan for me…” “So pretty…” “Good boys.” Peter Benjamin Parker Tony’s words bounce through Peter’s head just as slowly as he’s bouncing on Bucky’s cock. Peter is floating yet again. He knows he’s riding Bucky, but he can’t feel how his muscles ache with overuse. He has no idea how long he’s been here, staring into Tony’s infinite pools of darkness, pushing himself down to be filled so deliciously. But he feels good. And that’s all that matters. “Peter… Repeat the next word Bucky says. Can you do that for me?” Peter nods, head bobbing rather than giving a clear confirmation. “Bucky,” Tony suddenly says, quite casually. “Master.” Peter shudders at the word, unsure why Bucky of all people would say it? Did… Did Tony put him under too? “M-” Peter could barely bring the word to fall from his lips, pleasure tensing up every one of his muscles. “Master.” Tony immediately tugs at Peter’s hair, making him moan again. “Oh, aren’t you two my good boys… Turn around for me, Peter, go have a look at who’s fucking you so well…” Peter barely registers how Tony helps him switch positions, until he and Bucky lock gazes. There’s something distant about the usually so piercing blue eyes and both men moan when they’re joined together again. “Go on, my pretties… Find Peter’s sweet spot. Make yourselves feel good for me. Make me proud.” Tony chuckles darkly. “Not too fast, though.” Peter’s head swims as he rolls his hips to come together with Bucky’s. The older vampire’s eyes are the polar opposite of Tony’s. From deep woods to blue ice. Bucky is like a machine. His thrusts are calculated. Precise. Rhythmic. Mind-numbing. It takes a few tries and a few angles, but when Bucky’s cock pushes in just right, Peter freezes in place, mouth opened in a silent cry. “Keep going.” Yes. Peter wants to keep going. And so, he does, feeling Tony pressing his body against Peter’s, cock against his back and arms looping around so his fingers tease around Peter’s leaking shaft. “Look at him, Peter.” The young man had never looked away from Bucky in the first place, but the order solidifies it all. “Bucky is your Master…” Tony’s lips caress the nape of Peter’s neck. “Say it.” Peter whines softly. “B-Bucky is my Master.” He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can’t look away or turn his head. He’s stuck in this overwhelming situation, but he’s certain he never wants to get out. Bucky’s hands on Peter’s hips squeeze, digging their fingers into the skin. “You will do whatever he says.” “I will do wh-whatever he says.” Peter’s obedience is rewarded with a pinch of both nipples, and with Bucky hitting his prostate every time, he’s sure he looks like a mess. He’s sweaty, nearly drooling, as his cock already is. “I am Bucky’s Master.” “You are Bucky’s Master.” Peter knows where this is headed and he’s living for it. Can’t wait to say the words Tony wants him to say. “He does whatever I say.” “He-” Peter clenches around Bucky’s cock, putting his hand on the tensed and toned chest below him for extra balance. “He does whatever you say.” “Now, pretty Peter… You’re a smart, good boy, aren’t you? What does that mean?” Bucky is Peter’s Master. Tony is Bucky’s Master. The math is simple. “You’re my Master,” Peter breathes as he bottoms out again, straining every part of his body. “I will do whatever you say.” “Thaaat’s it… Such a good boy.” Tony’s fingers trace over Peter’s cock and he gasps with a wide smile on his face as his body finally manages to relax again. Whenever either of the vampires uses that voice on Peter, he turns to mush. It’s soft and delicate, yet demanding and forceful. Disobeying it is impossible and every word feels like an attack on all of Peter’s sensitive spots. It fucks with Peter’s head deliciously. Immeasurable pleasure. Insanity. Addiction. Lust. It’s everything. Bucky is unreadable. Stern. Hot. Peter has no idea how close either of them is to coming, but that is honestly the last thing on his mind right now. Or whatever is left of his mind. All that matters are Tony, Bucky and Peter’s ultimate submission. “You two look so wonderful together,” Tony sighs. “Made for each other… That dog was a blessing in disguise.” Tony toys with Peter’s cock; squeezing it, tugging at it, circling the tip like a spiral. Peter and Bucky still stare at each other, completely infatuated with the other’s presence as Peter goes up and down… Up… And down.... “And you solidified his obsession with you by making a fuss over his Cold Coffee.” “I- I made him drop it-” Peter stammers, half-surprised that part of his brain turned back on at the memory of his worries. “I had to offer him another one, even if I didn’t have the funds-” “Stop.” The whole scene comes to a halt just as Peter bottoms out again, sheathing Bucky’s cock inside him. There’s a veil of shame and guilt covering his shoulders, pushing him down. “You’re not allowed to think bad thoughts. Only good ones,” Tony whispers into Peter’s ear. “Nothing else matters than what is currently happening in this room, do you understand?” “I understand.” “Look at your pretty cock, Peter. Look down.” Peter obeys and topples his head. “See all of this?” Tony’s thumb glides over the head, collecting part of the precum that was dripping out. Peter half-nods. “These are all of your worries, seeping out of your body with every inch of pleasure that we give you. And once they’re out, you can’t think bad thoughts anymore…” “Can’t think…” “They come out of your cock because pretty boys like you think with their dicks, don’t they? And the more that comes out of your shaft, the less you can think. So, why bother thinking at all?  Why not give in to me? To us? Give us your mind and your body. Feel your thoughts drip out with every pump of my hand…” It clicks with Peter, what Tony says. Master is right. He’s always right. If Peter’s mind is in his cock and his cock is leaking, then surely, he’s quite literally losing his mind… “Feels good to turn off your brain, doesn’t it?” Peter nods slightly and a rush of arousal shoots through him when Bucky nods along as well. “Continue.” Slowly, they start making love again. The concept of time eludes all three men. They’re completely caught up in each other, lost in pleasure. Something in the back of Peter’s mind tells him he should be sleeping. That he’s tired. But then, Tony didn’t tell him he’s tired. Nor did Bucky. So, he’s not tired. He keeps going, gently gyrating his hips with every push and pull, trying to milk Bucky’s cock of all its cum. He wants his Master to coat his insides and fill him up until the slickness squelches and squeaks with every movement. Peter wants it so bad- needs it. But Bucky hasn’t come yet and it’s only when Peter realizes that Bucky needs permission to release, that Peter clenches down particularly hard, eliciting the filthiest moan from the man underneath him. “Hold it there, lovelies,” Tony coos, caressing Bucky’s shivering legs and Peter’s sides. Peter has absolutely no clue where he is right now, but the grounding feeling of Bucky’s cock still inside him is all he needs right now. “Mmm… Bucky, you’re doing so well for us. So beautiful. Keep thrusting. Claim your thrall with your sex.” Tony hifts his attention after Bucky moans, sucking up the pleasure with every breath he takes- every word that’s uttered. “Peter?” Peter’s mind catches up with itself, realizing he closed his eyes. He moves his head so he can look at Tony, who has apparently stood up and walked around Peter over the mattress. When he opens his eyes, all he sees is his Master’s big cock, slowly swaying back and forth in front of him. “What do you want?” “You,” Peter sighs happily. “All of you. Both of you.” “Good boy.” Tony grins above Peter, but the young man is too enamoured with the dick in front of him. Tony angles his hips so he can drag the tip over Peter’s cheek. “Bucky’s an ass-man. Figured he should be rewarded with a good view of mine as I fuck your mouth.” Tony cocks his head. “Do you think he deserves to be rewarded, Peter?” All Peter can do is nod. Of course, Bucky deserves a reward. He’s the one who got Peter to be in this exact position. And he never wants to leave again. Tony pulls back slightly, chuckling at how Peter goes a little cross-eyed in order to keep his sights locked on his cock. “Gooood boy. Continue.” With every roll of Peter’s hips, Tony’s dick seems to dance in front of him. He wants to catch it with his mouth and relishes in the sensation of feeling it slap gently against his cheeks. “See this, Petey?” Tony asks coily. Peter nods, licking his lips and then parting them, wanting to feel soft skin on his tongue. “Your cock is nearly empty now. No bad thoughts left in that fuzzy little brain of yours, am I right?” Peter’s eyes half-close and he nods. “My cock, on the other hand, is so full with good thoughts. It throbs and aches with them. And I want to share them with you, pretty Peter… Can I give you some?” Peter throws his head back, eyes never leaving his Master’s cock, and he opens his mouth invitingly. He wants his Master’s cum- wants the good thoughts instead of the bad ones, even though - right now - he has no idea what those bad thoughts once were. What kind of man he used to be. All he knows is that he’s better now. And he feels better too.. He’s ready for them; for the good thoughts. He craves them and yearns for them. He hopes a desperate moan can convince his Master to use his mouth. Peter sticks out his tongue and enticingly flutters his eyes. “God, I’m so hard for you, sweetness. Can’t wait to sink my teeth into your flesh. Oh, I bet you taste so good.” Peter can’t reply. Not with the cock that’s now being shoved down his throat. He suckles and licks it, toying with the head as he keeps grinding. Shit, this feels terrific. Every molecule in Peter’s body is screaming at him to make Tony and Bucky, his Masters, feel terrific too. He’s convinced Bucky already is, so now, the focus will go to the throbbing shaft that rests on his tongue. He lets his teeth glide over it, tugging at twisting and- “Jesus Christ, kid, who taught you this-?!” Peter lazily looks up and moves to take his mouth of Tony’s cock to give his answer. However, Tony’s hand quickly grabs the back of Peter’s head, pushing the young man’s nose against his bush. Peter nearly gags. “Don’t reply, just keep- fuck- keep doing what you’re doing.” After a short gasp, Tony manages to angle his head down again to look Peter in the eye. “Make us cum, Peter. Make us spill.” Peter doesn’t have to be told twice. His rutting on Bucky’s cock quickens and he pushes down more deeply.  At the same time, his tongue swirls around Tony’s shaft. He can’t stop moaning, the ecstasy is too overwhelming. The longer it goes on, the more erratic Tony’s movements become. With a growl and a sigh, he tenses up and shoots his load into Peter’s throat. The young man swallows eagerly, lapping it all up. Peter keeps absentmindedly suckling on the softening cock as if it’s a popsicle, while he rides his other Master. “Oh, Bucky bear,” Tony coos and for the first time in a while, Peter hears Bucky whine. “Been on the edge for so long now, haven’t you?” “Y-yes-” “How does your thrall feel? Hmm? Tell him.” “So- so good, Peter, you’re so good for me, so good to me, oh-” Peter squeezes every part of himself, digging his fingers into Bucky’s sides. “I want to taste you, so bad-” “Would you be okay with that, Peter?” Tony gently pulls Peter off his cock. By the look on his Master’s face, Peter assumes he’s quite the sight. Puffed, red lips covered in cum- glazed over, teary eyes… “Bucky hasn’t fed in days… He’s starving, little one.” Tony caresses Peter’s face, all the while smearing his cum and saliva stained cock over Peter’s cheeks again. “May he feed from you?” “Does it hurt?” Peter counters the question with one of his own. Part of him still wants to think things through. Ask questions, on which he can base his own answer more properly. “It won’t if you don’t want it to.” Tony’s fingers slip under his jaw again, caressing the artery on his neck. He leans in slightly, capturing Peter with his eyes once again. “I’m going to tell you a vampire secret, sweet Peter… Feeding makes everyone involved feel good. So good, even, that if it tips you over the edge, you’ll stay on that high until the feed is done.” Peter shivers. He’s unsure if it’s true, or if it’s something Tony is just saying to win Peter over. But does it matter? If his Master orders him to cum, he will. For however long his Master so desires. Still, Peter is curious by nature. “H-how long?” “Hm…” Tony grins and presses their noses together, possessively squeezing Peter’s throat. “Shortest feed I’ve ever had was about a minute… But we can drag it out, my pretty. We can make you come for hours if you want to. You do want to come, don’t you?” Peter blinks once. He hadn’t given cumming much thought up until this topic came to light. His mind was mostly occupied with the pleasure his Master’s experienced. He felt absolutely amazing, yes, but coming? Only now, Peter realizes how much his own cock aches. How blue his balls must be. How desperate he is. “I want to come,” he whispers. “Good boy,” Master coos and Peter shudders. “Now, answer my question. May Bucky feed from you?” Peter moans when Tony drags his fingers from Peter’s neck down to his chest. “Yes-”  Peter manages to shut his eyes as he is moved into a different position. He’s the one on his back now, finally able to relax his muscles. He doesn’t notice how his legs are pulled up and spread and how Bucky follows every single one of Tony’s commands as he realigns himself with Peter’s gaping hole. They both grunt when he pushes in and bottoms out again. Peter’s eyes fly open as Bucky immediately hits the right spot in this position. “Fuck him hard, Buck,” Tony encourages. “He’s your thrall after all. Your toy. Your doll.” When Tony utters the last word, all the fog seems to clear from Bucky’s eyes and it’s replaced with aggression. Apparently, the word ‘doll’ was his trigger to snap out of it. “How dare you!” Bucky growls as he starts his relentless thrusts into Peter’s hole in order to chase his high. With every quick, desperate movement, Peter gasps and whines. It feels so good and Bucky’s frustration is so hot. And he’s strong; metal arm pinning Peter in place. Peter’s helpless. And it’s absolutely perfect. “What?” Tony chuckles. “Your orgasms are better after a few hours of denial. You get to feed tonight, Buck. You get to have Peter. He’s yours. Use him.” “Oh, I will.” The metal fingers move to curl around Peter’s throat, pulling at him and exposing his neck. Peter’s eyes roll back at the knowledge of the impending explosion of pleasure. “So…” Tony sounds so casual, so nonchalant. His voice is far away. Is he… In the bathroom? “How long are you gonna make him shake?” “As if I’m telling ya after whatcha just pulled.” “Hey, don’t get angry with me, I wasn’t even trying to put you under the second time. You just fell, I didn’t have to look at you once.” Somehow the fact that Tony and Bucky were arguing while Peter was used as a fucktoy did things to Peter. He wasn’t sure if he liked being ignored like this. Though, the fact that Bucky doesn’t even have to pay attention to make Peter moan with pleasure does add a bit to the tingles in his abdomen. However, he’d rather have his Masters pay attention to him. He manages to raise his hand to trace his index finger over Bucky’s chest. A blissful smile spreads on Peter’s face. With every rut of Bucky’s cock inside of him, he feels happier and happier. He wants Bucky to feel happy too. “M-Master?” Bucky’s head whips back to Peter and the man immediately realizes what he’s doing, seemingly shocked that he managed to talk over Peter. He doesn’t stop humping, though. No, he increases the speed when he sees Peter so utterly fucked out. His icy eyes darken and he bares his fangs. “Yes, darling?” He asks sweetly, a polar opposite of his movements. “Come for me?” With a loud cry, Bucky suddenly erupts inside Peter, not halting his movements as he keeps pumping and pumping and, oh, Peter feels so good. And out of nowhere, Peter’s head is turned even further and he feels two small pinches in his neck. He gasps when the sudden floods of mind numbing pleasure crash onto him wave after wave. His whole body shakes and twitches and convulses and he spurts his come all over himself. He’s lost it, babbling and moaning and screaming because nothing in his life has ever felt this mind shatteringly amazing. Bucky’s tongue and mouth are wet against his skin, lapping and sucking and Peter can feel how he’s being drained of his deepest shade of red. So good, feels so good, so good- It just keeps going and going and going and he expects it to become too much, to be overwhelmed and overstimulated, but his body just takes it and loves it and accepts it. More, more, more. Keep going. Keep cumming. Good boy. Such a good boy for you Masters. . Spent. It’s the only word Peter can conjure up when Bucky’s soft lips and flaccid cock finally detach themselves from him. He lays still, pale and exhausted. Awake, but not entirely present. Sweet praise fills his ears as he’s lifted off the bed and carried away to god knows where. It’s not a long walk and Peter gasps when he’s gently placed in a bathtub with nice, warm water. It smells like lavender… Peter doesn’t realize he’s holding onto Bucky, until the man uses his voice to part the fog in Peter’s mind. “Let go,” he orders. Peter only moans quietly, sinking deeper into the water and dragging the man with him. “Of me, sweetness, let go of me,” Bucky laughs softly and Peter’s hands relax their grip on Bucky. Peter’s head is held up above the water to prevent him from dipping under. There’s no strength left in his muscles to do so himself. The water ripples when both men join him in the large tub and start washing him gently. Every touch tickles Peter’s skin. He’s empty. A vessel for his floating mind. The four hands take care of him, cleaning every inch of his skin. They also make him drink something sugary and hand-feed him something salty. It’s when he’s on his third bite of the savoury meal - he guesses it’s some sort of cracker - that he manages to open his eyes. “Good morning,” Tony coos. Peter blinks a few times and then spots what Tony means. Golden streaks of sunlight break into the bedroom, illuminating the room with heavy yellow and orange tones. They�� They went all night? “H…” Peter tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His exhaustion is just about as overwhelming as the loving warmth he’s feeling. How many hours has he been awake now? He manages to look down and notices he’s in the large glass bathtub he’d spotted the night before. “It’s okay, Peter, you don’t have to talk.” Bucky’s voice is strangely soft now. Less strained. Is it… Is that because he fed? Peter wants to turn his head to face Tony, who he only now realizes is spooning him from behind, softly petting the skin Bucky had bitten into. “We know it’s a lot to handle all at once,” Tony mumbles. “All we need to know is if you’re okay.” Peter nods slightly and Bucky moves in closer to feed him another bite. The water dances around them and he happily complies, wanting to satiate the hunger in his stomach. “You were even more than we had hoped you would be, doll.” Bucky’s thumb wipes a few crumbs from the corner of Peter’s mouth, an adoring smile on his own face. “And now, we hope you enjoyed yourself as much as we did.” Tony’s fingers twist into Peter’s curls, playing with them. Peter huffs out some air and smirks, but it falters with his lack of energy. He nods again. “Good,” Tony says staccato. His words carry so much differently when he’s not using his voice.  “We’re going to dry you up and put you into a clean bed so you can finally get the sleep you deserve so much,” Bucky explains. “Is that okay with you too?” Another nod. “Sleep with me?” Peter’s voice is hoarse, barely audible. Bucky smiles again. “Of course, pretty Peter… We’re not leaving you unless you want us to.” Peter is lifted out of the bath and carefully dried before being gently placed into the soft sheets. He curls up into them immediately and sighs happily when he feels Tony and Bucky sandwich him. They press flat pecks on his head, his shoulder, behind his ear as they continue their praise. Peter can’t believe any of this actually happened. But he’s glad it did. After months of being stuck in an endless cycle of repetitive work, he finally feels like he has a purpose again. At least, if they keep him. But, in all honesty, Peter is pretty sure they will. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky turns in his bed. The last time he looked at the clock, Peter had been sleeping for 18 hours. Well, Peter woke up a few times to eat more of the crackers, drink some, and pee, but he would always immediately stumble back to bed and crash again straight away. Tony spent the day in his lab and went back to bed quite late. Bucky stayed with Peter to take care of him whenever the young man needed him too, but he didn’t quite catch himself drifting off as well… Bucky reaches out, aiming to pull Peter close to him, but then his nose twitches. The bed smells of his delicious Peter, but it’s… Distant. Bucky pats an empty space next to him and his eyes open wide. A bit further away from him is Tony, peacefully sleeping, but Peter… Peter’s gone. “Tones-” Bucky slaps the man on the shoulder. Tony jolts awake and sits upright, looking around confused. “Wha-?” “Where the fuck-” And then they hear it… Soft hums, singing a tune neither man recognizes, and the clanking of pans. Tony and Bucky turn their heads to look at each other and then at the door. They then quickly scramble out of the bed, rushing towards their living space. When they open the door, they’re met with Peter in their open kitchen. He’s… Baking? Peter looks up surprised and fails miserably at hiding his laughter at the two feral, naked men, sheets still clutched in their hands. “Good morning to you too,” Peter chuckles. “I, eh…” He gestures at the messy counter in front of him. “I got hungry, but you didn’t really have any food, so I figured I’d bake some bread?” Tony and Bucky visibly relax, lowering their shoulders. “You can bake?” Tony asks bewildered as he sits down on the bar stool at the counter, legs spread to give his dick some space. “I mean, I do work in a bakery, you know?” “It smells amazing,” Bucky praises as he walks towards Peter, around the kitchen counter. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that Peter opted to wear nothing but the apron this morning. “You smell amazing.” “Thank you.” A lovely blush creeps onto Peter’s face. Bucky wraps his arms around Peter, pressing his morning wood against Peter’s pert ass. His lips find the skin he’d bitten into on their night of fireworks and he sticks his tongue out to gently rub it over the sore spots his sharp teeth had left. Peter gasps and immediately pushes back against Bucky’s cock.  “B-before we do anything else-” Peter stutters. “Hm?” “We need to discuss a few things.” Tony frowns and approaches them as well. “Oh dear,” he quips. Bucky lets go of Peter and gives him the space to do his talking. In the meantime Peter turns around to make the three of them a good cup of coffee to start the day. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Peter says with a smile. “I just need you to do one thing.” “Oh!” Tony claps his hands in delight. “You already want to make use of our skills? Cheeky.” “No!” Peter exclaims, grinding the beans. “All I want is for you to offer Betty a job.” “Who’s Betty again?” Peter sighs exasperated at Tony’s question, but the billionaire quickly remembers. “Oh! The other girl who was supposed to be serving us on Friday?” “Yes.” Peter turns on the coffee machine, frothing their milk as he speaks. “She lost her job because of your little stunt.” “Wait, what?” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “That was never our intention.” “Well, tell that to Beck.” “The guy you told to pull his own weight?” “Yep.” Peter finishes up the first cup of coffee and passes it to Tony. “He fired her cause she could barely walk.” “Jesus. Alright, what’s her skillset?” “She’s studying biochem here in New York. Super smart. I’m sure she’ll be an asset to your company.” Tony roars a laugh and slaps his bare knee. “Look at you,” he coos. “You’re gonna make a great personal assistant.” “Just-” Peter shakes his head, finishing up the second coffee. “Just help her out, okay?” “Don’t you worry about her, Peter.” Bucky pushes himself against Peter again, still allowing him enough space to make the last coffee. “We’ll offer her a job.” “Thank you.” “Anything for you, lovely.” Bucky kisses the top of Peter’s head and the young man immediately leans in for more. He shifts and turns, placing the last cup on the counter to kiss Bucky back properly. His hips start rolling again, rutting against Bucky’s leg. Bucky’s fingers move to untie the apron behind Peter’s back and he pulls it out from between them so Peter can hump Bucky’s thigh more freely, cock already aching again. Peter moans, letting his hands roam Bucky’s chest.  It’s not long before Tony joins them, once again sandwiching Peter between the two of them. They can hear the blood rushing through Peter’s body and they grin at how Peter’s neediness grows with every second. Tony and Bucky had promised themselves to let Peter replenish all of his stamina before putting him under again, but their discipline crumbles when Peter moans. “M-Master?” Bucky lifts Peter up just like he did in the shower and walks him back to the bedroom. Tony follows and raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “Quicky?” He asks. “Quicky.” Bucky confirms. But with how their sloppy kisses and needy rutting was evolving into more, Bucky was sure he’d come back out of the bedroom to a cold coffee.

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 7: 

There wasn’t much of a rush at first. Peter liked to think it was more shock than anything, but a part of him knew that this had happened far too often for him to really be in shock. It wasn’t until about ten to fifteen minutes after Commissioner Gordon had been taken into the manor did the flames of his rage finally burst.

Piper, ever the observant puppy, came up to him with her tail between her legs, noticing and responding to her master’s distress. Peter’s eyes softened as he ran a hand through her soft fur. Titus lumbered up to him not long after, resting his large snout onto Peter’s lap. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Thanks, Titus,” he said and received a lick on his hand from his large tongue. A presence approached from behind him.

“Parker,” a stiff voice said. Peter hummed, not really interested in turning around to face Damian. Peter could tell Damian was a little nervous, as his heart rate had elevated a bit. “Are-” a pause came, “are you alright?” There was a note of reluctance in Damian’s tone as if he wasn’t sure he should be there. Peter let his lips twitch up slightly.

“Fine.” Damian came to stand in front of Peter. “Well, as fine as I can be.” They were silent for a while, before Peter heard heavy footsteps lumbering towards the room they were in.

“Hey Bruce,” he called out noncommittally. The footsteps stopped before the door.

“How are you holding up, Peter?” The deep voice of the head of house asked. Peter shrugged, not really caring if Bruce could see or not. He probably noticed though.

“Like I told Damian, as good as I can be.” Bruce entered the room, coming to stand next to Damian, both men looming over Peter like it was their job to do so.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Can you tell me where Harley is?” A regretful look came upon the man’s handsome face, though his son’s expression was as ambiguous as ever.

“If I could, Pete, I would. But I don’t.” Peter scoffed, running a hand through chestnut curls with agitation.

“So there is something the great Batman doesn’t know,” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell that Bruce and Damian heard it. Both men froze, and while their faces remained unreadable, he could see the surprise coursing through their eyes.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, though Peter could hear the strain.

“How did you know?” Peter levelled them with a cool look, and despite not planning to reveal that he knew at that exact moment, he didn't think to feel bad about it.

“I know I’m not a detective, Bruce, but give me some credit. I can figure things out on my own, even if you didn’t make it so blatantly obvious.” Father and son straightened up, from shock, wariness, or pride, Peter doesn’t know. Peter just knew that they had many things to talk about so both stalked out of the room, footfalls heavy and rushed as the door banged closed on their way out. It was another five minutes before Peter retired to his own room, Piper and Titus following from behind.

-----

“Knock knock,” Dick’s voice called out, breaking Peter’s train of thought. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, giving the handsome man a forced grin.

“Hey Dick,” he greeted softly. “What’s up?” The light seemed to bend around him in the doorway, making him seem like some sort of angel. In reality, Peter knew he was far from that.

“I heard you knew.” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I figured it out pretty early on.” Dick leaned on the doorway.

“When?” Peter thought for a moment, calculating.

“I knew you weren’t normal when I met you. I didn’t really realize that Bruce, Batman I mean, was mafia until I came here.” Silence commenced and Dick seemed to hesitate before entering the room, dark and warm.

“You-” The eldest Wayne paused, “you won’t do anything will you?”

The unspoken ‘you won’t tell?’ was quite obvious.

“Not unless you do anything in front of me. Otherwise, I won’t have proof.” Dick’s shoulders slumped before he came forward to sit on the bed.

“You realize now, that we can’t let you go, right?” Peter didn’t react to that statement.

“Would you have let me go even when I didn’t know you guys were mafia?” A tense moment passed before Dick’s shoulder came out of their slumped position, shaking with silent laughter. Peter already knew the answer before he even asked the question.

“No,” Dick admitted, and while it wasn’t a surprise to Peter, he had no idea why he was so gutted upon hearing the admission. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “No, I suppose not. You know, gorgeous, it’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share of people,” Peter’s chest ached but he didn’t otherwise react, “but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do.” Peter leaned back onto his hands, his arms bearing the weight of his torso and his heavy heart.

“You realize that makes you like a psychopath, right Dick?” At that, the look on the other man’s face became pensive.

“More like a sociopath. That’s what I would characterize me as. I saw my parent’s murder, you know.” The sudden change in subject gave Peter a bit of whiplash and he did not know this. Peter knew that Bruce Wayne had acquired Dick Grayson when his parents died from a nasty fall. He also knew that Dick Grayson watched them fall off that platform.

He always thought it was hard on him, considering circumstances and all, but then he remembered that this was not the same Dick Grayson from the comics, but darker, a shadow version of the light that Dick was supposed to be. “I saw those men sabotage the ropes. I could’ve stopped it,” the look in Dick’s blue eyes was intense, as if testing Peter, “but I was so damn curious.” Peter licked his lips, suddenly dry. His hands started to sweat and his heart thudded with a ferocious force in his ribcage.

This is not where he saw this conversation going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Curious? About what would happen?” The blue eyes bore into him a little while longer before looking away and Peter felt like collapsing against the mattress, the weight gone from his body, no longer paralysing him.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was young and I didn’t always know how things worked so I was curious about what would happen if those men cut the ropes and my parents still used them. I felt bad afterwards. They were genuinely good people, Pete. That’s why I exacted my revenge on the people who did that to them.” Their gazes met as Peter stared incredulously at the other man. The intention of his stare didn’t need to be said.

“They were still my parents, Peter. It felt right.” Peter scoffed, turning away from Dick completely, though the feel of those blue eyes burning into him didn’t fade away.

“Felt right after you used them in some sort of sick experiment like they were lab rats.”

“Well-” Dick started to justify it, but Peter knew that even if it seemed like the most logical explanation, it would still be wrong.

“Well nothing, Dick. They were people.”

“So?” Peter’s head snapped over his shoulder to meet Dick’s glowing eyes. At least, they seemed to be glowing.

“So?! That’s all you have to say?!” The full gravity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. The person he was sitting with, while not completely dark and vicious, was morally grey and would not hesitate to do whatever would benefit him and all that he cared about.

“People are expendable,” the casualty with which Dick said that was like a knife to the gut, “they come and go and it’s natural. Our history precedes us and our kind, from the slums and the impoverished, are known to be those who either kill for survival or for fun, but killers nonetheless. Times may change, Peter, and so will civilizations,” Dick stood up from the bed, the springs beneath him creaking as they righted themselves, “but humans will always stay the same. Till the very end.”

Peter let go of the sheets, his grip starting to rip through the seams. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, back towards the door and Dick, his face shadowed in the darkness.

“This is the world that you’ll be living in from now on, Pete. Harley was already living in it before you came along. She got used to it. She survived. Now, it’s your turn. And I hate to do this, bambi, but behave,” Peter flinched at the warning note in his tone, similar to Tony’s when Peter did something in the lab but with a much more vicious intent, “before my family and I are forced to do anything drastic.”

“You’d kill me?” There was a pause before Dick answered. It made Peter sick to know that Dick had to hesitate. It meant that he could if he wanted to. At least, he could if Peter didn’t have his powers. Dick stood up and headed to the door as he responded.

“No, we don’t kill anyone unless we really have to. You’re close with a lot of our family and our associates so that gives you rapport, but don’t think for a second that we won’t do something if you force our hand.” The older man paused for a second, hand on the knob.

“On another note, it would probably be best if you didn’t leave the house for a few days. Just for, you know. Safety purposes.”

‘Mine or yours?’ The vigilante thought silently before asking,

“So you’re locking me in here?” The golden halo of light that bent around Dick made it seem as if his eyes were glowing as he looked back at his guest-turned-prisoner.

“If you want to call it that. You still have free reign of the manor, bambi, and all of its features, but for now, leaving is out of the question. At least until my family and I get this situation figured out.”

‘What’s there to figure out?’ It wasn’t as if he was someone important. They already have the police under their control, and it was a lengthy process getting other government factors into play, like the FBI. If he were to do that, he’d have to play the long game and Peter truthfully didn’t know how much time he had left.

In his thoughts, the younger man didn’t see the way Dick’s hand tightened on the knob of the door or how his shoulders tensed slightly; didn’t see the way the blues of Dick’s eyes glinted guiltily before he turned away. Peter was silent as Dick left, closing the door until only a slight crack revealed a sliver of light into the room.

Of all the Wayne family, he didn’t think Dick would be the one to deliver the threat. He thought Jason or Damian would be much better at it. However, he is aware of how he looks and they probably thought it would be best to have someone closer with him, and known to be softer than his brothers.

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought, ‘Dick was definitely the best person to send in.’

And now he was left with a dilemma. On one hand, Peter, who had entered this kind of life when he donned that red and blue suit, was on intimate terms with this lifestyle. He knew what it was like and was familiar with it.

On the other hand, he was on the opposite side of the Wayne family (at least, in this universe). He could not condone what they have done, are doing, and will do, even in the name of fighting against crime. So to sit idly by while they wreak this kind of havoc on streets like Gotham’s, which are already very heavily shrouded in crime and darkness, weighs heavily on his heart and on his mind.

“But I’m already so deep in,” he sighed to himself, his brows furrowing together before he perked up in realization.

‘Of course!’ Peter remembered the lesson that the Black Widow herself, Natasha Romanoff taught him a couple of years back.

“Make the best of your situation,” she said sternly just as they were about to be deployed on a mission, “and survive to the best of your ability. This life is messy, spiderling, and horrible. Roll with the punches. And remember,” her eyes were unreadable, Peter remembered, and very serious, “there is always opportunity in chaos.”

“There is always opportunity in chaos!” All Peter needed to do was to resolve this situation as best he could. That would mean going in himself and dismantling the Joker and his goons before the Wayne family ever have to get involved. Easier said but Peter’s done more difficult things. Then, he would need to speed the process of getting home. No more sitting on his ass and waiting for Dr. Strange to find him. He needed his own solution. Again, easier said than done but he would deal with his problems one at a time.

For now, he would deal with the one most prominent. Peter marched over to his bag, sitting by the desk and reached in, pulling out a small phone, frequently referred to as a burner. Typing in a number that he knew could be reached by, he sent a little text and waited for a reply.

It was time for preparations.

-----

Tony was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked with terror in his tone, horror displayed plainly on his face. The boy er- man he had come to think of as a son was stuck in what was supposed to be a fictional world and had multiple men, all of whom looked like they could crush Peter, are chasing him because they like him.

‘What has the world come to?’ Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around his husband, who leaned into the touch, still as horrified as ever. It was about five minutes before Tony had had enough.

“Alright.” He stepped away from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen looked confused.

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Tony repeated. “I am getting my son back, if it’s the last thing I do. How do we do that?” The doctor was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed (though it was a total overuse of the word ‘alright,’). “Let’s do this.”

-----

Peter scaled the wall, making sure that no one was looking. He had hacked into any street cameras nearby through a deployed gauntlet earlier and made sure that they were unable to spot him. Just in case someone had come looking. It was never a bad idea to make sure.

Not long after Dick had left his room, Peter locked it behind him and deployed his whole suit, putting it on stealth mode. After grabbing his backpack, he left through the lone window, making sure to be as quiet as he could be. It wasn’t hard considering his bone density lowered after the bite.

He crawled his way down to the ground and enabled cloaking, knowing that the Waynes were paranoid bastards. They probably had multiple contingency plans in place in case of an invader or many other things. From there, he ran towards the city at full speed, thankful for all the training he had gone through with the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s idea of having used the blueprints of Shuri’s Sneakers design and implementing them into the suit.

Everything was a blur as Peter ran at full speed (at his full speed, he can keep up with Bucky and Steve, and with time, probably pass them) and by the time he reached the edge of the city, he started swinging with his webs.

It was exhilarating to be doing this again. Peter found himself with a genuine grin on his face, a rarity since becoming stranded in Gotham. The familiarity of flying through the air at breakneck speeds, his backpack bouncing behind him as he grips onto the webs that he manufactured himself. The wind passed him by and it was like he was back in New York, saving people from the crimes of the night. Oh, how he missed it. He missed everything about it. New York was home, after all. Home.

‘I want to go home,’ he thinks morosely, severely lonely and depressed. The smile slid right off his face. His thoughts were silent the rest of the trip. It was about ten minutes before he landed on the roof of the Captain’s. No one was on the roof, as far as he could sense.

‘Good,’ he thought as he dropped down and retracted the suit around him. Walking towards the edge of the building, Peter crouched down and set his backpack onto the ground, bringing out a notebook and a pencil while waiting for his soon-to-be partner in crime. He dangled his feet over the side of the building as he wrote down what he was thinking.

About five minutes later, Peter could hear the strong heartbeat of Slade, and to the untrained (read: un-superpowered) ear, silent footsteps.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Slade said quietly. Peter turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. Slade looked at him with a curious and attentive eye.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Slade’s eye narrowed minutely, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms (they bulged out and holy shit, this is not the place, Peter!).

“What happened?” Peter let out a small laugh. He must’ve noticed my red rimmed eyes.

“Always straight to the point.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Slade’s tone was dangerous. The smile was off his face in an instant and he started to shake his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all!” The mercenary didn’t look convinced. Peter pursed his lips and in an effort to be sincere, he stood up and walked over to Slade, reaching and grasping his gloved hand in Peter’s own. The difference was rather stark. Slade was huge, afterall.

‘Not just in that one way,’ Peter’s inner thoughts seemed to smirk. Peter shook his head of that thought before a blush could spread over his cheeks.

“Slade,” he says, “I promise you that no one hurt me. However,” a blue eye sharpened at that, “someone did hurt one of my friends and kidnapped the other.”

“The clown girl?” Peter scowled and slapped Slade’s arm (as gently as he could).

“She is not a clown,” Slade raised an eyebrow (over the eye not in the patch). “But, yes, Harley. They kidnapped her and put Babs into the hospital.” The other eyebrow shot up, making a look of surprise.

“The Commissioner’s daughter? Betting the Waynes loved that.”

“Oh yeah, they’re over the moon,” Peter deadpanned. “The problem is I need help tracking Harley down.” Slade was silent for a moment.

“The Waynes wouldn’t help?” Peter shook his head, chestnut curls bouncing with the motions.

“It’s not that. They don’t need to be involved in this.”

“They’re going to be involved anyways. Aren’t you living at their house? Your friend was even there.” Peter let go of Slade’s hand, which seemed to twitch and hesitate, sighing.

“This will be faster. They’re in the limelight constantly. While I don’t doubt their investigative prowess, it’ll be harder for them versus, say, you. Also, they found out that I know. You know, about them?” The mercenary nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Peter paused, hoping it meant what he wanted.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Slade voiced his assent. “What do you need me to do?” Peter thought for a moment. He is pretty sure he can trust Slade. At the very least, if things truly go to shit, he has another home (world) to go to (though that really defeats the purpose of Uncle Ben’s words). Despite being a mercenary, Slade has yet to do anything that would make Peter deem him untrustworthy. It was also a gut feeling. Slade wouldn’t betray Peter.

“Slade,” Peter called, looking up at the taller man through long and dark eyelashes, “I can trust you, right?” Slade eyed the really innocent yet somehow sultry look.

‘Damn kid really knows how to work me,' he thinks.

“Yeah,” Slade nodded. “Yeah, you can, sweetheart.” The younger man was silent for a moment before he finally decided.

“Good. Because what I’m about to show you is on a need to know basis. I’m counting on literally no one believing you unless I let them know too.” At this, Slade cocked his head.

“Let me know what?” Peter didn’t answer the question. Instead, he started packing up his stuff, putting his laptop and notebook back into his backpack.

“First, let’s go see a certain someone.”

-----

While Slade drove to the hospital, Peter had checked the security cameras around the area before going in. Commissioner Gordon had gone home for the night as visiting hours were over. The father was obviously very distraught at being separated from his injured child but not even Bruce Wayne could tell sleep-deprived nurses and hospital staff what to do.

“Okay, pull off here,” Peter directed Slade onto a road that was a little ways away from the side of the hospital. This was where the least amount of security cameras were and the cameras that were there, he had made fabricated footage to insert into the tapes, made easy by Mr. Stark’s suit and Ned’s hard and software that they integrated.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that?” Slade asked as he side-eyed Peter hacking into the cameras. Peter shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips. He was finally able to show that he is more capable than he seems. Slade had snorted at his lack of an answer, apparently amused.

They exited the car, making sure to grab their things. Slade tried to grab all the equipment in the back but Peter managed to convince him to leave it; that it’d be heavier than they needed.

“Hey, I said I trusted you. You said I could, right?” Slade seemed to know what Peter was going to say but indulged him anyway (very much so exasperatedly, but still).

“Yes, I said you could, sweetheart.”

“Then I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Slade said without hesitation. Peter felt a rush of warmth through his chest before brushing it aside.

‘It’s not the time for this right now,’ he scolded himself.

“Then please trust me when I say that we do not need all that shit in the back.” The mercenary scowled.

“That’s my equipment, sweetheart. I regularly need and use that ‘shit in the back,’” he said with air quotes. Peter snickered at him.

“Well, don’t worry, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Slade had a dubious look on his face, though his expression barely changed since he met Peter on the rooftop. Finally, the taller man’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” there was a heavy and exasperated note in his tone, “but if we end up dying, I’m going to blame you.” Peter’s doe brown eyes scrunched up into crescents as he smiled. A slight dimple showed and Slade suddenly forgot what he was thinking about.

“Don’t worry, Slade. I’ll protect you.” Peter was pretty sure even the cameras could pick up the loud snort that came from Slade, even though they were audio silent.

-----

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Slade whisper-shouted as they approached the side wall of the hospital. Peter glanced behind him before looking back up at the wall of the hospital. Nearest the top floor is where Peter knows where Barbara’s room is. They’ll need to climb to the top. Peter smirked.

“I’m getting ready to climb.” Slade blinked.

“With what?! We left all the equipment in the car!” Peter shrugged with a look on his face that said ‘and?’ Suddenly, the younger man’s face got serious. “Alright Slade. What I’m about to show you is a secret. Harley doesn’t even know. For now, I want to keep it that way.” Peter waited until Slade nodded in agreement before rolling up his sleeve and rotating the wheel on his watch. The top screen popped upwards and he pressed down on it, activating his suit.

Peter felt the nanobots climb all over him, covering him from head to toe. It still retained the new car smell that Peter remembered telling Mr. Stark. He spread and clenched his hands, revelling in the feel of the suit back on his skin and the knowledge that he could now use his powers again without holding back. He looked towards Slade, ignoring the wide eye that was directed at him and held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

It was a few moments before Slade physically shook himself out of the little funk he was in and took Peter’s hand without a word, though his stance was wary. While holding Slade’s hand, Peter turned around and placed his large hand onto his shoulder.

“Alright,” he said with utter seriousness in his voice, “get on.” Slade was silent again.

“What?!” Peter rolled his eyes and faced the mercenary. He stepped forward and took both his hands, turned back around and let them fall onto his shoulders.

The spider themed superhero reached back and grabbed Deathstroke by the unders of his knees and surged upwards, lifting the mercenary onto his back. Slade’s torso fell over Peter’s head and for a moment, Peter was sure that the man on his back fell through the sheer shock of someone Peter’s height and weight (literally half of Slade’s) lift someone like him.

“Okey dokey. Hold on,” he sang and jumped about 20 feet into the air and onto the building, revelling in the catch in Slade’s breath as he clung onto Peter with a tight grip as Peter stuck to the wall with his feet alone.

“What the actual fuck.” The shock in his partner’s statement made Peter laugh.

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now, we have a job.”

“You’d better,” he’d heard Slade grumble. It only made him laugh more.

-----

“What happened?” Bruce asked his first son as he descended the stairs. Dick had that steely look in his eyes, the one he had when he was forced to do something drastic, and it made Bruce antsy. There wasn’t much that could faze his eldest but it would’ve been bad if he had that certain glint in the blues of his eyes.

“I told him.” While the Wayne head had an inkling about what Dick told the little object of all his son’s affections (and the platonic affections of his unofficial daughter), he preferred if Dick told him straight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I told him about my parents and that he should get used to this life because he’s in it now.” Dick looked directly at his adoptive father.

“Does he have to be though? I don’t want him to be.” Bruce sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Dick. He knows.” Bruce noticed something. “What else did you tell him?” His son was silent for a moment, realizing he was caught. Of course, Bruce and everyone else in his family know him better than anyone else in the world. No one else could get close enough anyway.

“I said that he shouldn’t leave the manor for a while. At least until we figure this out.” Bruce smirked at his son, eyes full of knowing.

“There isn’t anything to talk over, Dick. He can walk free if he doesn’t have any proof. You’re just trying to keep him here longer.” The eldest Wayne child stiffened before slumping.

“Before he inevitably leaves us.”

“Is that what’s going to happen?” Damian came from nowhere, signature scowl on his face. His other brothers followed him as they, too, showed similar expressions of displeasure.

“He has no proof of anything and he'll be staying for a few days. What more can we ask for?” Jason crossed his arms over his massive chest, though looking impossibly small next to his youngest brother.

“His forgiveness is too much. He won’t forgive us and we don’t expect him to, Dick.” Tim was right, however Dick couldn’t help but fight back.

“He knew the entire time, guys. He knew we were shady and the way we are.” Damian snorted.

“Anyone with eyes and half a brain can, Grayson. It’s not that impressive.” Damian gestured to each of them. “We don’t exactly hide it.”

‘Though people can be oh so dumb,’ the youngest thinks derisively. Bruce hummed, effectively silencing all other voices in the room.

“Though,” he said, tone thoughtful, “he could be useful. He’s helped Tim with countless things and Dick has a point. If he knew we were dangerous, why didn’t he stay away?” Everything was still silent. “I think it’s worth a shot to convince him to stay.” Damian scoffed.

“That may be, father, but his one reason to stay is now gone. How do you propose we convince him then? Save her, and then extort his good will into staying because we saved his best friend?” The head of the Wayne household smirked. His sons never failed him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tim mused, a pondering expression on his face. Jason grinned with a feral ferocity.

“I’m down.” The bass in his voice was rumbling. He really liked the idea. Dick smiled.

“It also involves tracking down the asshole who did this to Babs, so hell yes. You know, Buce, Commissioner Gordon is going to want to get in on this too right?” Bruce nodded, hair flopping as he does so.

“Of course he is welcome to join. He’s like family. So,” he made eye contact with each of his sons and Alfred, who had snuck himself in a while ago, “why don’t we get to work?”

It was phrased as a question but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t one. The ravenous and vengeful looks in their eyes were enough to make even Lex Luthor anxious.

-----

The beep of the EKG machine broke Peter’s heart as he and Slade silently entered the dark hospital room. Through his suit’s lenses, he could see the basic outlines of things with their heat signatures. People on the night shift were passing by their door but other than that, no one but him, Slade, and an unconscious Babs were in the hospital room. Peter carefully let Slade slide off his back, taking care not to make noise.

“Stay there,” Peter whispered and headed forward, evading the efforts of his partner to grab him and pull him back to his hulking figure. He had identified a lamp and crept up on it, pulling on the little metal string, illuminating the room.

Something sailed towards his head and his Spidey Sense went crazy. He caught it in mid-air, instincts quick and precise. He turned around and observed the object thrown. A knife lay in his hand, bright against the light of the lamp. Barbara Gordon lay in bed, eyes open with caution and determination, switching between looking at him and Slade, hand in the air.

“Who-” she wheezed, coughing heavily, “who the fuck are you?” Peter, in a sign of goodwill, placed the knife gently onto the ground and held up his hands in a surrender.

“It’s okay, Babs, it’s just me.” The helmet retracted to show his face, much to the red head’s surprise. “It’s Peter.” The shock in her blue eyes made him chuckle a bit. It almost made him want to see Slade’s face when he had found out earlier.

“What the fuck Peter. I could’ve killed you!” Peter smiled knowingly.

“No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have.” She looked on in shock while Slade stood by silently. Peter approached the bed, the suit retracting completely as the nanobots slid smoothly back into his watch. “How are you?”

Babs scoffed.

“I’ve been better,” she said sardonically, though her eyes were alight with pain. Peter’s face softened at her obvious hurt.

“Yeah. But hey,” a charming smile stretched across his face, “at the very least, you’re as beautiful as ever.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes (a few of them trailed down her face), and she let out a wet laugh.

“I’m never going to walk again,” came a whisper but the words were no less devastating. Peter felt like he was punched in the gut and reached out to grab her hand, which squeezed his back with a ferocity that belied her devastation.

“That’s what the doctors said?” She nodded, obviously choked up. Peter clenched his teeth and looked over at Slade, only to find him staring at the scene in front of him with an observing eye. “Well, don’t worry. Slade and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

“But, I thought Dick and Bruce were going to do that?” Was it okay to lie? He’s gotten better at it. Natasha is a really good teacher.

“We’re helping,” he lied straight through his teeth, aware of Slade stiffening on the other side of the room. Babs scoffed again.

“If that was the case, then why are you sneaking in when you can literally just walk in through the doors?” Damn Babs for being so smart. He quickly came up with an excuse.

“Because visiting hours are over and I’d rather not have my name on the visitor logs?” Barbara shrugged, wincing at the pain that the movement brought.

“Fair enough.”

“I just want to know what happened and anything that can help us figure out where Harley is.” A pained look took over Babs’ expression.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. If only we didn’t go out.”

“That’s not your fault Babs. You don’t have to feel guilty. However, I would appreciate it if you could tell us what you two were doing that night.” Barbara sighed, tucking stray strands of ginger hair behind an ear.

“She was contacted by her ex about a week ago and said he had wanted to apologize. He sent an address and told her to come and meet him. She didn’t want to go alone and she didn’t want you in danger so she asked me to come.” Tears sprang to Babs’ eyes. It was jarring to see someone usually so put together break down. “It was obviously a trap but we thought we could handle it between us two. We were wrong.”

Peter was quiet for a while. While he could be mad at Barbara and Harley for not telling him, he was also mad at himself.

‘Why didn’t I tell them about my powers right away? Maybe if I did, this all could’ve been avoided.’ Harley was yet another person on the growing list that Peter could not save. Guilt weighed heavily on his chest and it was likely that it weighed the same on his redheaded friend’s as well. He reached out and clasped her shoulder with a bare hand.

“It’s not your fault, Babs. Slade and I will get her back, so don’t worry,” he said softly. Blue eyes swiveled to meet his doe brown.

“How can you be so forgiving, Pete?” It came out as a whisper but her heartbreak was easily identified. Peter smiled sadly.

“Despite what you all think, I am familiar with situations like these. Now,” he came closer to the bed, “was there anything at all that could hint about where the Joker took Harley?” Her eyebrows pulled together and her expression became pinched. It was about a minute before she spoke again.

“I-I don’t remember much. A lot of pain, but,” she swallowed thickly, “as I was passing out, I heard someone say something about the sewers. It’s all pretty blurry after that but I definitely remember it.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked back at Slade who shrugged. The chestnut haired boy rolled his eyes.

‘So he’s no help.’ He sighed. ‘Looks like it’s come down to this.’ He pushed his sleeve back to reveal his watch. Peter tapped on the screen and let it go into unlock mode.

“Karen,” he said, and it was only a second before the AI that Mr. Stark had created for him, the AI that he hasn’t talked to in a month responded.

“Hello Peter,” her odd voice answered, and while it could be surprising to others, it only served to give him comfort. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you remotely hack into the Gotham City Hall’s record system?” Peter made eye contact with Babs’ wide eyes and he then looked over to his partner, and saw his narrowed eye. He had a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for the most updated, recent plans and blueprints for the Gotham sewer system.” Another minute before a hologram popped from his watch, the wide prints of the sewers showcased obviously.

“Here. Is there something you would like me to look for specifically?”

“Yeah. Any spaces that can be used as a base of operations, where about 50 people can work?” The hologram zoomed into a spot on the blueprints.

“After analyzing the data, I believe the place you’re looking for is right here. It is directly underneath the Gotham Harbor.” Peter looked towards Barbara.

“You think she can be there?” The woman sputtered before answering.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, that can definitely be it. Um, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?” Peter gave a small smile.

“This is my AI, Karen. Karen, this is Barbara Gordon and Slade Wilson. They’re friends of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” was her cordial answer.

“Awesome,” Barbara breathed.

-----

“I’ll come visit you after this is over okay?”

“Wait, you’re not going to do this yourselves, are you?” Peter paused, briefly looking down at Slade who had made it to the ground safely.

“We’re working with-”

“Peter.” Her interruption shut him up quickly. She knew.

“I know that you’re not working with them.” A pause.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?” Another pause of silence lapsed.

“I found out. About them. And their jobs. The one not known.” To Peter’s superhuman ears, he heard her breath being caught in her throat.

“And then what?”

“I told him that I have no proof. He told me that I should stay in the manor for now.”

“Dick did?” Peter nodded. “And you didn’t listen?” He smirked over his shoulder, getting ready to drop. There was only so much time. Who knew what the Joker would do to Harley if he didn’t stop him.

“Have I ever really been one to listen?” She gave a small chuckle.

“I guess not.” Peter’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more capable than you know.” The smile on her face matched his.

“Good luck.”

On the way back to the truck, Slade was quiet. Peter could tell he was also brooding. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the vehicle that he broke the silence.

“Slade, I know that was a shock, but you have to understand, I couldn’t tell any-” The mercenary held up a large hand. Peter quickly quieted.

“Look, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t get so caught up. Plus, we can talk about this later, when this is all over. For right now, focus on the mission.” Peter nodded, a contemplative look on his face as Slade started the engine and pulled out of the area. The superhero pulled up the camera feed and began rolling it again, wiping any evidence that they were ever there. Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Slade?” The mercenary hummed in reply.

“What if we don’t make it?” His answer was instantaneous.

“We’ll make it.”

“But-”

“We’ll make it!” His voice was rough and the statement came out in a growl. Peter clenched his teeth.

“You never know,” he said quietly. Slade shook his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned his head to look Peter in the eyes. His one eye was dead serious and assured. “I promise.”

It wasn’t for another few minutes that Peter responded.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I believe you. Now. Let’s go beat some clown ass.”

Slade’s laugh could be heard a mile away.

-----

Tim paged everyone in the family, who all rushed down to the Cave, save for Dick, who had gone to talk to Peter.

“I found where they are.” Damian crossed his arms, sneering.

“And how exactly did you do that, Drake?” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubted that the Joker would be above ground, since we have influence over a majority of Gotham. Joker lost his territory to Cobblepot earlier last year, after his encounter with Jason and they hate each other. So I was stumped as to where I could find him. Then, I remembered the underground of Gotham, consisting mostly of sewage systems. However, within those systems, I can only count a handful of places where he could hide. I’m betting he’s there.” Damian scoffed, green eyes hard.

“All conjecture.” His older brother shrugged, hair flopping.

“Maybe, but we don’t have much time. Besides, my instincts are almost never wrong. You know this, Demon Spawn.” Jason snorted.

“Alfred’s kitchen would seem to disagree.” Semblances of smiles appeared on everyone’s face, except for Tim’s, who sported a pout.

“How was I supposed to know that the spoon was in the bowl?!”

“Alfred told you, like, five times, Timmers.”

“It was 7 in the morning! I hadn’t had my coffee! It’s not my fault.” A huff.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“UGH!”

-----

“Peter?” Dick knocked on the door, voice and eyes soft. “Peter, are you there?” Silence met his questions. “We think we’ve made headway on where Harley is.” Still no reply. “Alright, well, I just wanted you to know.” Hurt was mirrored in his tone and Dick hesitated at the door, wanting to just burst in but he knew he couldn’t. He had already been cruel (any act of aggression against Peter was already labelled cruelty) to him earlier and didn’t want to fan the flames. “Call us if you need us.” The ‘call me if you need me specifically,’ was unsaid but understood.

Too bad he was talking to an empty room.

“Did Peter say anything?” Bruce asked as he watched his son descend the stairs once more. Dick shook his head and Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Head up, chum. Peter will forgive you. I know it. Besides, you could use Harley as leverage. Save her but for the price of staying with us. I’m not entirely sure I like the thought of him leaving either.” Dick raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Bruce to admit something so emotional (emotional for this family. We all know they literally have the emotional capacity of a fucking packing peanut. Like, collectively.).

“Maybe. We’ll see. Is everyone ready to go?” The head of the household smirked.

“Yup. We have several locations saved and we’ll need to split up when we get there.” Dick nodded, a similar grin on his face.

“Alright then. Let’s go put an end to this joke once and for all.”

-----

“Did we really need to contact him though?!” Tony whined at his husband, completely disregarding the man clad in black, green, and gold standing in front of them.

“I appreciate the love, Stark. And might I remind you that I am the one who volunteered to help you retrieve your son?” Tony scowled at the God of Mischief.

“You’re only helping because you like Peter.” Loki shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You’re lucky I like the little spider.” The genius rolled his eyes, aware of his husband rolling his own eyes at him.

“Whatever. What do we do?” Loki smirked.

“You tell me what you know and we get to work.”

Tony grumbled.

“Better be quick.”

He just wanted his son back.

Previous: Part 6

Next: Part 8

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 29

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is an Adult, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Two Morons Trying to Try Their Best, Borrowing Characters

_______

Chapter 29

_______

Around Three Years Ago

"How was the trip to Grand Orleans?"

Stephen grinned at Reed. "It was a great time. The surgery went off without any problems. Working with Dr. Jericho Drumm was such an honor and he was kind enough to show me the city. We spent the weekend doing so. You should have seen it, Reed, there was dancing and music everywhere. And the food? My god the food was incredible. The whole city was just alive in a way I've never seen before. It was the best trip."

Reed smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Sue and I have discussed a family trip there but we want to wait until the children are older... and in the hopes that Johnny will grow up a bit and not immediately get arrested."

Stephen winced sympathetically. Sue's younger brother hadn't had an easy go of it, though Sue and Reed were doing their best to guide him. He wasn't a bad young man, just hotheaded and prone to rash decisions.

They kept up their conversation as they made their rounds in the ER, parting to check on patients and then returning to continue speaking.

"HELP! SHE NEEDS HELP!"

A dark-haired man was rushing into the ER carrying a woman so battered and bleeding Stephen's initial thought was that she was a goner.

Stephen signaled for a stretcher and raced over to the man as the head nurse of ER joined them and they carefully transferred the bloodied woman onto it. "What happened?"

"Her husband, her selected spouse, he was beating the crap out of her! He was punching her and kicking her; he got her in the damn head." The man looked at Stephen with wild blue eyes. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"OR 2 is yours, Strange!" The charge nurse said.

"She should be scanned before heading over," Reed said. "We don't know what her most pressing injuries are."

"There's not time!" Stephen looked at the nurse. "Call Billy and tell him and the others to prep and page McCoy!"

"Help her, please," the man entreated.

"We'll do everything we can."

The woman was was wheeled away and he went to go scrub in.

Billy was already set up with two other nurses, including Dr. McCoy's right-hand-woman, Nurse Chapel when Stephen entered. Surgical Orderlies were running diagnostic scans using the mobile equipment that had cost the hospital a fortune but Stephen, McCoy, and Dr. Palmer had argued vehemently for.

"Status?"

"It's not good," Billy answered. "There's so much bleeding. Intracranial, internal, everywhere."

"Where the hell is McCoy?"

"I'm right here," the man said walking in. He read the tablet one of the orderlies presented. "My god."

Stephen took in the breadth of damage the scans were showing - much of it too healed to have been caused by the day's attack but too recent to have been done even a year previously.

"God had nothing to do with this."

Though he'd told Peter earlier he didn't want to discuss anything that night, he realized that if he didn't finally get it over with, he'd continue to find ways to put it off and that wasn't fair to Peter.

They'd gone ahead and changed into their pajamas and while he'd been undressing, he messaged Sharon.

Do I have your permission to tell Peter about what happened?

When they went down to the den, his mobile pinged with her response.

Of course you may tell him.

Stephen frowned when Peter forewent seating in the other armchair and planted himself at his feet, between his legs.

"Playing with my hair relaxes you," he said. "And I thought it might be easier for you to talk if you don't have to actually face me."

Stephen had no idea what he had done to deserve someone as wonderful as Peter in his life. He did enjoy running his hands though Peter's hair. He hadn't even realized it was something he often did, but Peter had.

"Richards and the others were already well-established at Sanctum General when I joined. They were all close but they welcomed me in and made me a part of their circle," he finally started. "I hadn't encountered that kind of openness before. Apart from Tony, I never really had close friends."

That's a shame," Peter said. "You're a lot better at it than you think."

"I've had some good examples to follow, especially recently," he admitted. "We all got along so well and from the way we talked, anyone would be convinced that we were going to change the world. We celebrated holidays together," He added with a scoff. "But things changed as they always do. Reed and Bolt became fathers, Xavier and Rambeau were promoted, Mordo got married, and Carter found herself courted by the Bureau to join as one of their consulting psychologists. Meanwhile, I was content to keep to my passion which is neurosurgery.

"I still remember the day Sergeant Barnes ran into the ER carrying Sharon in his arms and screaming for help." He took a breath, surprised at how shaky it was. "I thought she was a lost cause for sure but we raced her into the OR and Len and I spent twelve hours saving her life."

"You did," Peter said. "You saved her life and now she's happy and married and going to be a mother."

"It was touch and go for a few days; we kept her in a medical coma to take the strain off of her body so she could heal. And it was after she woke up and was questioned that I found out exactly what had happened." His grip tightened and when Peter yelped he instantly relaxed his hand. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, go on."

"As her attending physician I was entitled to be in the room when Constable Sousa and a representative from the BCSS spoke with her. I could tell that they didn't want me in there but..."

"But you didn't care what they wanted because she was your patient and you're you."

"I'm me. And Sharon asked me to stay, so of course I did."

"Sharon told them everything, including who was the BCSS psychologist on their case." He snorted. "Can you believe that bitch had the audacity to stand out in the waiting room after Sharon's surgery, asking if she'd pull through?"

"She's a piece of work," Peter said, leaning his head against Stephen's knee.

"Anyways, myself, Len, and a doctor from the BCSS were tasked with comparing her scans from that day to her medical scans when she'd been officially discharged from the CSB." He scoffed. "It turns out that had been Ms. Rambeau's suggestion, because surely Sharon was exaggerating how bad her time with Rogers had been."

"Did they know?" Peter asked, craning his neck to look at him. "Did they know what Carter did?"

"Yes, but they didn't want to believe it." He sighed. "Once her old injuries had been ruled out, there was a clear pattern of abuse and when the BCSS had another psychologist review Dr. Carter's files and notes, it was obvious just how much she'd lied."

"She lied to a government agency and isn't in jail?" Peter exclaimed. "And she's still a doctor? What the hell?"

"She had some powerful people arguing on her behalf," Stephen said. "Including Sharon's uncle, who at the time was a hopeful for state governor of East Virginia."

"There wasn't a scandal, though."

"No, the BCSS stepped in and sorted things, as did the CSB." He let his thumb rub circles on the back of Peter's neck. "That agency is fiercely protective of its agents, retired or not."

"I'm glad she had someone on her side."

"There were a handful of us, yes. But when Dr. Carter's case went before the state board, some of us at Sanctum General were asked to offer recommendations on allowing her to keep her license. I was asked along with Dr. Richards, Dr. Xavier, and Dr. Mordo. I was the only one to vote no."

"And you'll never forgive them for that," Peter said, understanding.

"There was so much documentation of malpractice. Her patient was suffering from the most severe case of shell shock any of us had ever seen and instead of helping him like she should have done, she allowed him into an environment where he was a danger to himself and others. An innocent woman - her own cousin - nearly died. All she could say for herself was 'I let my emotions cloud my judgment.' when asked." He ran a hand over his face, still so angry at what his colleagues had done. "No was the only acceptable answer but they said yes, let her keep her license and go on to ruin more people's lives."

"They weren't answering as doctors," Peter said, turning around to face him, still on his knees. "They were answering as her friends. What you did was so much harder, and Stephen, I'm so proud of you for that."

"Everything seemed to change, after that. She was suspended for two years. I could hardly stand to be in that place and I thought the loneliness was going to end me." He smiled down at Peter. "It did get better; Dr. Grimm joined and became a friend, as did Dr. Knight. Clea and Ava moved next door and that helped. And the others mostly stayed away from me for about half a year. Then they started coming around as if nothing ever happened, apparently taken with the brilliant idea that I was working too much and would burn out if I didn't settle down. It became insufferable, really."

"Was that when you decided to visit the BCSS?"

"I held out until it was strongly implied that it could cost me my career at Sanctum General," he admitted. "I could have just left, of course. Tony's been trying to convince me to move to Malibu for years, harps on about knowing people who know people." He smirked. "As if I need his connections when any hospital in country would bend over backwards to sign me on."

"So why stay?"

He considered. "Pride plays a role, I suppose. I do like some of the people here, like Ben Grimm and Len. I'd hate to leave behind Clea and Ava as well. But mostly? A sense of responsibility, because if they could brush off what happened so easily, then how can I ever trust that they won't do it again?"

"Do you really think they'd let another doctor get away with what she pulled?"

"No, they'd come on that person and hard."

"She's not with the BCSS anymore, right?"

"No, they got rid of her and every other consulting psychologist. There was an announcement that they were realigning due to feedback and that anyone involved in medical matters would be employed by the Bureau outright."

Peter snorted and stood up before sitting on his lap, much the way they'd once seen Sharon sit on Tony's all those nights ago. "All that pain and upheaval just because she was jealous she wasn't the one marrying Captain Rogers."

He could see the moment his words sunk in.

"You think so?" Stephen asked skeptically. "I knew she thought the man was attractive, but wanting to marry him?"

"Oh yeah. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that she did everything she did because she wanted to be the one marrying him." He rolled his eyes. "Which would have never happened. BCSS employees aren't allowed to be selecting spouses to anyone in the local pool and I'd bet money that the consultants weren't allowed either. The BCSS doesn't get enough credit for the steps they take to protect us selected spouses."

"Fury aside, they treated you well?"

"Yes. Sometimes we had instructors who were a little zealous in their belief that we were lesser for being in the pool and that our only concern should be pleasing whoever ended up selecting us, but we were housed, clothed, fed, and we had recreation time that was actually relaxing."

"Then I showed up," Stephen said wryly.

"Which has worked out pretty well," Peter admitted. "I wasn't at sure it would, because I was terrified of how fast my life had changed, but I settled in." He sighed and leaned into Stephen. "What happens now that you've faced the dinner party you've been dreading and survived?"

"I truly don't know," Stephen said. "I've never let myself imagine getting through it."

"Maybe we should take day or two away from here," he suggested. "I know we have the trip to California coming up but you did say you have more vacation time banked than the next five hospital employees combined."

"That's... not a bad idea," Stephen said. "Where would we go?"

"Where have you wanted to go that you haven't had a chance to visit?"

"I wouldn't mind going back down to Grand Orleans," he answered. "It's an incredible place. I think you'd enjoy it."

"I've heard it's essentially one big party," Peter said. "And the culture is supposed to be amazing."

"It is."

Later that night, when they were lying in bed, Peter asked him a question he himself had pondered more than once.

"Why her? What made Sharon's case so personal?"

"I told you once that my father was not a kind man," he said quietly. "He was also not content to merely use words to make his displeasure known."

"He hit you?" Peter sounded horrified.

"Yes. I'd step in front of my mother and take whatever blow was coming. I also made sure that his attention never made it to Victor or Donna when he was in a bad mood. I was able to protect them for the most part and that made it worth it somehow. Seeing her, though... she had no one and I wanted to make sure she never had to face anything like that again."

"Did your siblings know what you did for them?"

"I can't say for certain but honestly, I hope not."

"Your mother knew, though."

"She was a kind woman, but never took care of herself and was ultimately very weak. After losing Donna and then Victor, she let herself fade away. When she fell sick with pneumonia she didn't even try to fight it. Her husband was always off with his mistress and her two youngest children were gone; she was done."

"How did-"

"Donna drowned when we were on a rare trip to the beach when I was sixteen. Father had some business partners who had property in the fancier part of the Hamptons. I asked her to wait before swimming out further because I was helping Victor with his sunscreen but she just rolled her eyes and insisted she knew how to swim. Donna was caught in the undertow. I must have done CPR on her for twenty minutes before it finally sunk in that she was gone." He shifted and sat up, turning on the nightstand's lamp.

"It was my fault, of course," he said sardonically. "I was supposed to be watching them both and I'd failed miserably."

"You didn't!" Peter said fiercely. "You were just a kid yourself! No one should blame you for that, not even you!"

How well Peter knew him, he thought.

"Perhaps. Victor died during my sophomore year of college. He'd fallen in with a disreputable crowd and found himself on the wrong end of a knife after a dispute over drugs. My mother went a year later and my father unfortunately didn't pass away until the first year of my residency. He'd gotten liquored up per usual and drove head-on into a brick wall."

"I'm so sorry," Peter said. "I really am. No one should have to go through any of that."

"Like I've said, I've done my grieving, such as it is." It still hurt from time to time, but he was, for the most part, at peace with the loss of his family.

"You know, I won't visit the beach in Malibu if you don't want me to. I don't want you to have to worry about me."

He really did have the most wonderful spouse, Stephen thought. He hoped he'd get to keep him.

"No, that's not necessary. I don't want to deprive you of it." He arched a brow at Peter. "And I've no plans to let you out of my sight the entire time we're on the beach."

"And you'll help me with my sunscreen?"

He laughed. "Yes, you'll be well covered."

As Stephen slept next to him, chest rising and falling evenly, Peter contemplated what he'd learned.

So much about his selecting spouse made sense to him now.

He wanted Peter to take care of himself, because he'd seen what happened when his mother hadn't. He didn't want Peter to drink or smoke or do any kind of recreational drugs, because his father had been a violent alcoholic and his brother's drug habit had gotten him killed. He wasn't supposed to be disobedient or reckless because his sister had been and it had cost her her life. The not swearing or being disrespectful was probably a holdover from his childhood and father with a temper.

Stephen, he'd bet anything, had become a doctor to save lives in the hopes he could make up for not being able to save his sister. He took his job so seriously because in his mind, whether he realized it or not, he was saving his sister over and over again.

All things considered, he was so lucky to have Stephen as his selecting spouse. Peter honestly couldn't imagine being married to anyone else, let alone going back to the life he'd had planned.

He'd always told himself that he just had to make it the one year. One year and then he was free.

Life with Stephen was so much better than he'd imagined it would be that day when Peter had called into Agent Morita's office, introduced to Stephen, and told they'd be marrying the next day. "You should get your things packed up, Peter. Your new life will be starting tomorrow." Stephen hadn't said much other than a polite greeting and that he'd return the next afternoon. He hadn't felt particularly reassured and even less so on their "wedding day" and the week following.

As the months had passed, Peter had gotten to know Stephen and Stephen had gotten to know him. He'd been laid low with the influenza and Stephen had cared for him without a single word of protest. Stephen even went out of his way to ensure that Peter would be comfortable in any social situation they were in... apart from the time when Tony and Sharon were visiting and Stephen didn't see that as any sort of impediment to asserting his selecting spousal rights. (And Peter had thoroughly enjoyed it, truth be told.)

Now, the thought that Stephen might annul at the end of their twelve months worried him.

He'd have to work out some sort of clever plan and make sure that didn't happen.

_______

The Lone Wolf (Intermission)

Masterlist // Act I Interview

Word Count: 1.9k

ROSE HARRIS, A COMIC FAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- “I never thought I would go from Story of Miss Oxygen to this!”

BY FAITH PRICE

Going from small independent films to one of the biggest movie franchises is a dream come true, right? Well Rose Harris could certainly tell you. She went from being someone nearly nobody knew to one of the biggest names on our screens practically overnight. Joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe as the one and only Fianna MacBhfloscaidh, Harris has become an idol for many people very quickly.

While most people know her for her part in Captain America: Civil War which hit the silver screen only a few months ago on 26 April, Harris has been in a couple of short films like Story of Miss Oxygen and even portrayed the lead character in Daughter. She also has a main character role in a new Netflix series currently being filmed named 13 Reasons Why. Needless to say, Rose Harris is a very busy girl and I was very lucky to get the chance to interview her.

FAITH: WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO JOIN SUCH A FAMOUS FRANCHISE? HOW WAS THE RESPONSE TO YOUR FIRST BIG MOVIE BEING ONE IN THE MCU?

Rose Harris: It was amazing. Joining such a big franchise with a huge cast was very daunting at first, I mean these guys are practically a family so it felt weird and almost intruding at first. But then Lizzie came over and started talking to me, uh she reminded me she was in this place only a year ago and kinda eased me into meeting everyone. As for the response, it was huge, I mean my follower count skyrocketed within like a day. I never thought I would go from Story of Miss Oxygen to this! It was really exciting.

SO I HAVE TO ASK, WHAT WERE YOUR THOUGHTS ON FIANNA’S, AND YOUR, ENTRANCE AND FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE MCU? WHAT ABOUT FAN OPINIONS?

Well, personally I loved it, I mean it was- I think it was pretty cool that, um, they made sure that she knew Wanda and like the Maximoff twins beforehand, that was always going to be a big thing. I really liked it, it was fun and very Fianna, I think. As for the fans? It’s almost a 50/50 split when it comes to their opinions, especially the fans of the original comics.

As you’ve probably seen, Fianna’s entrance has a lot of parallels to Peter Parker’s who is also introduced in this movie, which is what divided fans. For, ah, Spideywolf fans, I believe that’s what they’re called, people who pair Fianna and Peter Parker together, they were ecstatic and love to point out the similarities. But then on the other hand, Silverwolf fans, people who pair Fianna and Pietro Maximoff together, they weren’t as big of fans of this. I think it’s because in the comics they were the endgame pairing.

YOU THINK THEY DON’T LIKE THAT THEY’RE NOT ADHEREING TO THE COMICS?

Oh for sure. I mean as I said, Fianna and Pietro, they... they- in almost every comic series you read with the two, they end up together and Pietro seems to be pretty dead right now in the MCU. He- with all of those bullet holes he looks very not alive [she laughs], at the moment. And so in their eyes this is Marvel and the writers straying from the comics, as you said.

I guess they’re now left wondering how far from the comics we’re gonna go, because I mean she’s already a mercenary. Before the names Fenrir or Lupine is even uttered, she’s a mercenary, with zero Wolves Den, uh, context. So many comics are being ignored at this point, and that’s even disregarding her mutant and X-Men origins.

YOU MENTIONED THE WOLVES DEN COMIC SERIES, WHAT IS YOUR THOUGHTS ON THAT STORYLINE? IS IT SOMETHING YOU’D LIKE TO SEE IN THE FUTURE OF THE MCU?

I think that Wolves Den is probably one of my favorites, if not my favorite Fianna comic series. It’s very, I don’t know how to put this, it’s very chaotic. I mean there’s three different storylines to follow, the romantic one, the team one and then the villain one.

You’ve got the romantic one, Fianna and Peter’s storyline, I mean Fianna... she really messes Peter up in this series, emotionally. She does cheat on him, they break up and then she gets together with Harry Osborn, I mean it’s so very messy. Then there’s the subplot where she leaves the Avengers, she breaks off not only from Peter but also from Natasha Romanoff who she is extremely close to in this universe, I mean they’ve got a mother-daughter bond. Instead she becomes a mercenary where she goes by the monikers of Fenrir and Lupine, going between the two to keep the team of heroes off her back.

And while she’s doing this she’s also fighting off a villain by the name of Discord, someone from Fianna’s past, who is trying to take over and attack the minds of people in New York. She does all this at the same time, and it’s just a very chaotic, discordant series.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT THING FOR HER IN THIS SERIES?

Definitely the way she has to balance all of this, I mean she has so many different masks and personas and she has got everyone fooled. With Peter she’s the remorseless cheating ex-girlfriend, for Harry Osborn she’s the new rebellious girlfriend, for the Avengers and especially, as I said, Natasha she’s a traitor who abandoned them.

Then she’s also got this act of being a good guy even with the mercenaries. She really walks that tightrope between good and bad in these comics and is really morally grey and quite neutral. And she does all of this because she’s trying to protect everyone, or at least that’s her mindset. She’s leaving the Avengers, leaving Peter because she thinks it would save the heartache if something were to happen to her.

I think this is where we see how different Fianna is from the Avengers, because we see that she has the most self-preservation instincts out of all of the Avengers. She is always about protecting herself, she knows that to take care of others she needs to take care of herself first but it’s getting a little warped in her mind when it comes to how to do that.Most of the Avengers work themselves to the bone, lookat Tony Stark and Peter Parker, their mental health isn’t great at the best of times whereas Fianna doesn’t do what they do. She knows she needs to take a step back sometimes to take care of her before she can do her job.

[Rose then seemed to realise how long she spoke]

Sorry, I sort of went on a tangent, I’m sorry. I just love the storyline. Though some of it is a little too dark for the way the MCU currently is.

DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT, I’M SURE THE FANS WILL LOVE YOUR TAKE ON THE WOLVES DEN STORYLINE.

I’m sorry [she smiles bashfully]

NOW I HAVE TO ASK, WHAT WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT PART OF PLAYING FIANNA?

The most difficult part? I wanna say the stunts but actually I think it was more the dialogue, more specifically the accent and the language because it is definitely not all in English, you know, some of it was in Irish. Yeah, like learning- well no, I didn’t learn Irish for the movie because it’s... learning a language is difficult and... there’s actually a lot of grammar rules and stuff, to Irish.

I mean it’s crazy, if you’ve ever seen Irish written down and then heard it spoken you will know that it does not sound the way it look like at all. And the same combination of letters can make different sounds based on like- I think it’s the vowel changes the sound, it’s crazy. But it’s really cool, it’s such a cool language.

YOU DID AMAZING AT SPEAKING THE LANGUAGE, MANY FANS WERE IMPRESSED.

I was so lucky to have Ciarraí Quinn, she was, uh, she helped me with the accent, the dialect and the language. She was such a help with the accent because Fianna doesn’t have the accent you think of when talking of an Irish accent she has the Northern Irish accent. It’s kind of like a mix of Irish accent and maybe, some English too? I’m not sure how to describe it. It was very difficult to get down but thanks to Ciarraí I did manage to get it.

Also on the side of the language, it was really hard to not butcher it, like I said pronounciation in Irish is a little strange and I did struggle with it quite a bit. Not only did I have to learn the pronounciation but I had to make sure I had the perfect Native speaker accent from Fianna’s region.

I remember there was a line that Fianna said to Tony Stark while she was in the raft and to get not only the line, but to get the accent and the anger and pain and emotion into it, it took a long time to properly say it and to be satisfied with it. The very specific Native accent was so important because Fianna comes from an Irish speaking home, it’s her first language, and she even goes to one of the few all-Irish speaking schools. I really loved this aspect of Fianna and I really do love playing and portraying such a unique character.

THERE WAS A SCENE AT THE END OF CIVIL WAR THAT YOU HAD WITH CHRIS WHERE YOU BOTH SPOKE IN IRISH. WHAT WAS IT LIKE FILMING THAT?

Oh, yeah, a lot of fans seemed to love that scene and I did too, as did chris. It was really fun to film that scene so it was, we must have run over the lines a hundred times to make sure we’d get it right. This was something Chris and I wanted to make sure stayed in the movie, um... because it was almost cut from the script since the runtime was getting a little long but we fought to keep it in, we felt it was important.

Something a lot of people don’t know is that Captain America, Steve Rogers, he... his mother was an Irish immigrant. Based on the time she would’ve immigrated she most likely spoke the language fluently and would’ve spoke it at home with little baby Steve.

So that short scene, that little bit of dialogue meant a lot to Native speakers, Irish learners and even just second generation immigrants from anywhere. That’s why Chris and I fought so hard to keep it in the movie, the representation.

JUST BEFORE WE GO CAN YOU TELL US ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR FUTURE IN THE MCU?

Anything about my and Fianna’s future in the MCU? Let’s see, I’ve got a contract for quite a few things. Umm... there’s a couple of movies starring Fianna coming soon. She brings with her her own posse of characters and maybe a couple of others as well. Annddd I think that’s all I can say.

THAT’S ALL YOU CAN SAY?

I think that’s all I can say before someone comes in and like forcefully removes me from the room [she smiles widely, holding back a laugh] either that or you’ll end up with recording footage missing or a trained sniper will shoot me through that window [she points, laughing again] Feige will do anything to keep as much quiet as he can for as long as he can.