Peter and tony are camping alone during summer and tony fucks him against the tree
Notes: I decided to take a little bit of a different turn on this one. It’s got a Brokeback Mountain vibe because — well, I got the idea in my head and I have the power to do that. I’m envisioning this taking place in the late 1960s, similar to the movie because I have no shame. I’m so sorry this took a year, anon. I started it and never went back to it, so it’s technically unfinished because we don’t get to see the sex part :( Maybe someday I’ll add part 2.
Warning(s): Underage!Peter, Underage Drinking, Wilderness/Cowboy Sex, Sort of Voyeurism (?), No Powers, Alcohol, Chewing Tobacco
The kid had an ass for days.
It was the one thought that Tony couldn’t get out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He’d sit by the fire, tending to it, prodding it with a stick he’d whittled into a point, and he’d watch the kid hustle around. The kid never sat still. He was always moving, which was fine by Tony. It meant that every time he bent over, the other man got a nice eyeful in the form of Peter’s ass hugged tight in his jeans. His hips swayed when he walked, too. It was subtle, but Tony had learned how to track the movement out of the corner of his eyes, away from the kid’s line of sight.
The kid thought he was straight-laced, see. Thought that Tony was gruff and spit too much on account of the chaw he tucked in his mouth. That he was a real working man because of the callouses on his hands and the rough stubble that lined the edge of his jaw. He knew how to hog tie a steer in under a minute, and a sheep even quicker’n that.
He wasn’t sure how many hints he’d dropped to the kid. There was that time they’d gone swimming, and he’d swam just a little too close and snagged the boy’s ankle. Peter must’ve taken it as a joke, because he’d gone red from laughter and kicked until Tony let him go. What he’d been trying to do was drag the younger boy closer, but he hadn’t expected the kid to splash him in the face. Lake water didn’t taste so nice without being boiled first. Then there was the other time where he’d poked his head into the kid’s tent one night and asked if he could sleep there because it was cold as hell outside and he didn’t give a damn if the fire went out. The kid budged over, but they slept ass to ass, and that wasn’t how Tony had meant for it to go.
There was some kind of invisible line drawn in the dirt, and he didn’t know how to cross it.
Or hadn’t, until today.
“ — all I’m sayin’, kid, is that if you gave it a chance maybe you’d like it.”
Peter eyed the offered flask like it offended him. “No thanks, Tony.”
The other man stared at the boy, who had hunched in on himself and was tending to the fire. Well, it wasn’t so much tending as it was prodding at it with the older man’s stick that he’d whittled. The kid did that sometimes, got real fidgety when he was uncomfortable.
“Jesus, kid. I’m not gonna bite. Just a sip.”
“I’m not old enough to drink, Tony!”
Tony gave the kid a strange look, watching as he went beet red. “Kid, this ain’t New York, remember? This is Wyoming. You might not be 19, but nobody gives a damn. Besides, who’s gonna tell? The sheep?” Tony scoffed. He scooted a little closer to where the kid was perched on his half of the log they shared. The older man held the flask aloft. He nudged Peter’s shoulder with it. “Come on, have a little. It’ll warm you up right quick, swear it.”
The poor kid was always complaining about how cold he was. Hell, even Tony got cold up in these mountains, given the time of year. No matter how huddled he remained into the collar of his coat, his neck was cold every morning and every day they spent outside. His hands would’ve frozen off if it weren’t for the sheepskin gloves he had. He’d loaned Peter his extra pair. The wannabe rancher from the city didn’t have a pair. Tony had laughed at him, at first. He’d thought the kid was joking when he asked why he’d need them.
A beat, and then another. Peter’s hand snatched out and took the flask, but he was muttering under his breath as he unscrewed the lid. Tony watched, amused, as Peter took a swig and the expression on his face contorted as soon as the liquid was in his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“This stuff is terrible,” Peter complained.
“It’s not so bad once you have a little more.”
Peter shot Tony a look that said he didn’t believe him, but Tony had come to discover that the kid was curious. His eyes went back down to the flask, and then he was bringing it to his lips again. Tony chuckled, turning his attention away from Peter so he could watch the flames of the fire. He didn’t need to watch the way Peter’s lips wrapped around the mouth of the flask, nor how his throat worked to take the liquid down. Tony shifted on his log, subtly readjusting himself in his jeans. When he looked back over at Peter, the kid was staring at him with flushed cheeks.
“You think you might be drinking it a little fast, kid?” Tony prompted, hoping that Peter hadn’t just seen him do that. He reached out and swiped the flask back from Peter, sloshing the contents around against the sides of the container. Tony whistled. “Damn, you did drink a lot.”
“I think you’re right,” Peter said, “it does taste better the more you drink.”
There was a pause, and then Peter laughed. The kid all but pitched over, leaning forward, and Tony jolted to grab the back of Peter’s jacket so he didn’t wind up toppling into the fire. The kid lurched back and fell off his log, the sound of his laughter loud, echoing in the little valley they were camped in.
Tony gave the kid an amused look, then shook his head. “How’d I get stuck babysitting the sheep and you?”
Peter’s laughter cut off, and he grunted as he pushed himself up. The look on Peter’s face said that his head was spinning, but his lips were set in a determined line. “I’ve held my own! Besides, I can ride for longer than you, old man.”
“Oh, I bet you can, kid,” Tony said, and the innuendo was so obvious that if the kid didn’t take the hint, he thought he might pitch over into the flames himself.
Peter stared at him for a long moment. He had this deer-in-headlights look on his face, and Tony found himself holding his breath. Shit. Had he gone too far? Maybe the kid hadn’t realized what was happening until right now. As the silence dragged on a little too long and Tony scrambled for something to say (unusual for him, but he’d had a few swigs of the whiskey himself, not to mention he was afraid the kid might spook like one of the lambs if he opened his mouth again), Peter bolted to his feet out of nowhere. Tony looked up, his eyebrows raised.
“Bathroom.” It was all Peter said before he hurried off into the darkness, leaves and stray twigs crunching under his feet. Even after all the time they’d spend up in the mountains, he still hadn’t mastered the art of being quiet.
Tony sat there for all of a minute before he was on his feet. He convinced himself, as he crept after Peter, that he was going to apologize. He’d stepped out of line with what he’d said, and hadn’t meant to make the kid uncomfortable. But as he hunted around in the nearby tree line for Peter, he didn’t expect to stumble upon the kid with one arm planted against the tree, the other hand pushed down inside his jeans.
The kid was touching himself.
Tony stood there and watched, struck dumb, as Peter’s arm moved in quick jerks. The light from the fire barely stretched out here, but he could see enough of Peter’s face to know his lips were parted. He was whispering something under his breath, and as Tony took a step closer, he heard the kid saying,
“Tony...ah, Tony!” in quiet, measured pants.
Another step, and a branch cracked beneath his foot.
Peter froze, jerking his hand out of his jeans, his eyes big and wide as he turned his head and stared at Tony. The older man saw the kid’s tongue pressing against the corner of his lip. “Jesus, kid,” Tony said, and he took a few more steps towards Peter, “if you wanted a little help, all you needed to do was ask.”
“T — Tony! I — ”
He didn’t have an excuse, this time, and Peter seemed to know it. “That’s right, sweetheart. That’s my name.” He was crowding into Peter’s space now, big hands on the kid’s hips. Peter’s jeans were loose around his waist from where the belt had been undone and they were unbuttoned. Tony’s hand slid around to the front, pushing beneath the fabric of his jeans and his underwear all in one go. The kid sucked in a breath, his whole body tense. “Think you could scream it a little louder for me?” Tony’s fingers found Peter’s cock, spit-wet. “Nobody needs to know.”
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are you taking prompts baby? i need some widdle peter sweetness to pull through this bachelor bs🥺🥺 oh please jae goddess provide your miracles - raf🐇
rafni babie !!!! i hope you don’t mind if i write a little something that we discussed in DMs rn for this ask, even if it's not little peter! 👀
Summary: Peter begs for more, more, more, always more, and Tony's had enough. Maybe a visit to the Doctor will help with that. AKA Dom Doctor Steve milks Peter's prostate while he sits on Tony's lap.
"Peter, baby, you can't keep hiding your face like that," Tony reprimanded, but the hand he soothed down Peter's spine took away any real heat behind his words. Tony flashed a grin at the doctor, who chuckled.
"That's alright, Tony. He's a shy one." Steve smiled, and crooked his fingers.
Peter gasped, jerking, because Steve's fingers were thick, almost as big as Daddy's. They filled him up so good, just the way he needed, and his thighs were trembling from the strain of the position he was in.
He was sitting on Tony's lap, their chests pressed flush against each other, while the doctor had three fingers in Peter, twisting and pumping them in and out briskly.
Peter gasped when Steve brushed over his prostate again. He was hard to pound nails despite the fact that he'd already come that morning, and he was leaking droplets of pre-come onto Tony's suit.
Tony noticed, of course, and sighed. "Makin' a mess," he muttered, and Peter flushed.
"D-Daddy—" he stuttered. "S-So—"
"No, no, you're not sorry." Tony gave him a look, and his eyes never left Peter's face as he reached down to thumb at the slit of Peter's cock, making him let out a high-pitched moan. "Daddy doesn't like when you apologize and don't mean it."
Peter whimpered, turning his head, cheeks pink in embarrassment as Steve hummed nonchalantly behind him.
"And look at you, the Doctor's working so hard to help me teach you a lesson and you can't even look him in the face. I thought you were more polite, sweetheart." Tony sighed again.
Peter shook his head, eyes wide, and stammered, "Please, Daddy, 'm—I am polite, 'm—"
"Yeah? Then show us." Tony gave him an unimpressed look, and it made Peter's knees weak. When Peter just let out small, punctuated gasps at Steve's fingers instead of speaking, Tony cracked a hand down on his hip, drawing a surprised yelp out of him. "Now."
"Um—t-thank you, Stevie!" Peter squeaked out in between stuttered moans and whines.
Tony tsked before Steve could say anything in response. "Oh, sweetheart, no, no, no," he tutted. "It's Dr. Steve, isn't it? Dr. Steve, who's making sure you're healthy. Dr. Steve, who's making your face all red like this. Dr. Steve, who has his fingers up your needy ass because you want more, you always want more."
"D-Daddy—" Peter choked on a small sob.
"And if you were a good boy and hadn't begged for more than you could take, then we wouldn't be here, now would we?" Tony murmured, tone scathingly patronizing. "Could've been having movie night. Could've been playing with Bucky. But where are we, instead? At the doctor's office, because you begged so much to the point where Daddy got worried if you were okay, honey."
That was bullshit, and they all knew that, because Tony and Steve had planned this, but the words still had the desired effect on Peter. Peter let out a small, distressed noise, and shoved his face into the crook of Tony's neck again.
"Ah-ah." Tony snaked a hand up and threaded it through the boy's damp curls, tightening his grip and pulling his head back. "You look Dr. Steve in the eye and apologize for making him do this when he's already a busy man."
"S-Sorry!" Peter gasped. "'m so sorry, Dr. Steve, p-please—"
"That's alright, Peter." Steve's tone was brisk and professional, though not cold, as he added yet another finger to rub against Peter's prostate repeatedly. "You can't help it, I know, poor thing. Had to teach Buck the same lesson yesterday."
Tony sighed dramatically at his words. "You hear that, Petey? Now you're making Dr. Steve repeat a lesson he's already taught to someone else. What do you have to say to that?"
"'m sorry!" Peter sobbed, fingers flexing as he gripped Tony's shoulders hard, quivering. "'m so sorry!"
"There you go." Tony soothed a hand down Peter's spine and gave Steve a small nod. "There you go, honey, you're learning, I know you are."
Peter nodded, dazed, and gasped out, "I am! Please, Daddy—"
"You do please your Daddy," Tony murmured, giving Steve another look.
And Steve. Nailed. His. Prostate. Hard.
Peter let out a wail, back arching, and his cock splattered strings of white on Tony's suit. He fell forward, forehead on Tony's shoulder, shuddering through the afterglow of his high until it was too much, too much—
But Steve kept going.
Dr. Steve didn't stop; his thick fingers were still pumping in and out of Peter's hole. Tony didn't stop him, either.
Eventually, Peter choked out, "P-Please—D-Doct—Daddyyy—"
"What's wrong, baby?" Tony crooned. "You hurtin'?"
Peter sniffled, clinging to Tony desperately.
"Well, you're always telling me you want more, so I really do want to give you more this time..." Tony trailed off thoughtfully, ignoring Peter's wide-eyed look. "Well, Dr. Steve? What's the diagnosis?"
Steve was quiet for a few moments, even as his fingers worked relentlessly. "I think," he finally said, "that if he's told you he wants more, then he should get more."
Tony grinned, delighted. "You hear that, honey?" He kissed Peter's cheek, brushing a hand over his jaw. "Doctor's orders."
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I was playing Bitlife as Peter, and this happened:
How is this SO accurate?? 🤣🤣
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Tony x Peter Iron Man 3 AU
“Sorry kid, Mr. Stark doesn’t want to be bothered—” Happy was already on the defense, hands in the air about to push Peter away.
“No need, Happy. Maya, be a darling and get us a few drinks, will you?” Tony says to his date, who leaves with a giggle, before turning his full attention to the attractive bambi eyed boy standing in front of him. He notices the kid’s suit barely fits him - probably a cheap rental Tony notes to himself - and wonders if the kid can’t even afford a suit, what’s a precious thing like him doing at this snobby party? “What’s your name, sweetcheeks?”
“I’m Tony. I mean— I’m not Tony. You’re Tony. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” The kid- Peter flinches, biting his lip before looking away. How adorable.
“Cute.” He ends up admitting. “Well, Peter Parker, want to get out of here?”
my synopsis: peter was a intern at oscorp industries who got invited to a wealthy new year’s eve party as his boss wanted him to meet likeminded and intelligent people of his caliber. but what he didn’t expect was to meet his long term idol and crush, tony stark. completely starstruck, peter approached tony. happy was about to push the kid away but tony instantly found interest in peter, ditching his date and deciding to take peter home.
tagging: @muse-of-gods @snowstark @im-a-goner-foryou @starkerswonderland @winterironspiderling @starkentrprises 💝
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Tony Stark, genius, playboy, billionaire, misanthropist, also known as Iron Man, the greatest supervillain in town, created extremis to turn Spiderman, sweet boy Peter Parker, into the new greatest supervillain.
“You’re killing so good, darling. Now let’s show them how unstoppable we are.”
Aka the moodboard I’ve done just to credit @itfeelssogoodmrstark ‘s HOTTEST EDIT OF SUPERIOR PETER PARKER I’VE EVER SEEN
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you know I left a part of me back in new york
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Businessman!Tony x Rent Boy!Peter AU
“You know for a rent boy, you’re not what I expected. So you gonna let me in the car, sweetheart?”
tagging: @muse-of-gods @snowstark @im-a-goner-foryou @starkerswonderland @winterironspiderling
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I wrote you a song
Tom’s story with his guitar and the Asylum are to blame for this 🥰
6 years old Peter having a crush on Iron Man, making his aunt and uncle buy him anything Iron Man themed, and thinking he was gonna marry him one day.
10 years old Peter, watching every interviews and reading all he can on Tony Stark because yeah of course Iron Man is cool but have you seen the man inside, May??, still wishing to marry him, even tho he knows now it’s never gonna happen, even wrote a love song about him, just because he can dream about marrying him, its okay
14 years old Peter getting bit by a radioactive spider, becoming Spiderman, and that leads him to meet his hero, Tony Stark. And this is the best day of his life. Not thinking his kid crush on the genius was gonna catch up with him this hard.
15 years old Peter having the biggest crush on Tony Stark and can’t help but feel so broken because Tony seems to not care about him.
16 years old Peter, being the happiest boy ever ‘cause he gets to work weekly in the lab with Tony, who also became his battlefield buddy. Jerking off everynight on the thought of him. Not realizing his crush is growing to something bigger and bigger everyday.
17 years old Peter having the shame of his life when one day, May sends Tony a copy of that love song he wrote for Iron Man when he was 10, trying to explain his mentor without stuttering too much that this was just a stupid kid thing, I was dumb mr stark, forget that please but his heart stammering hard in his chest because everything he wrote at 10, he still wanna scream it to Tony now.
Still 17 years old Peter, reappearing in space after what seemed like a second for him but what has apparently been 5 years. And Tony’s right in front of him, hugging him hard and Peter doesn’t wanna ever let go. This feels so nice.
....Only to lose him right after.
18 years old Peter, realizing a little too late he was deep in love with Tony Stark. But now Tony’s gone and Peter is left alone, empty and broken. And his self-destructions habits never were this stronger.
19 years old Peter sobbing, the day Strange tells him he brought Tony back to life. And he finally can breathe again when he first sees him, getting lost into Tony’s arms and warm chest. Trying to stop crying and feeling like it’s home. fuck i love him he thinks.
20 years old Peter having his first heartbreak after getting rejected by Tony. what did he think? how could he even thought Tony could have wanted him? and it hurts so much.
22 years old Peter trying again and getting completely shocked and speechless when, this time, Tony kisses him hard in response. Feeling a warm feeling he never felt before in his chest.
25 years old Peter, starring at Tony with a blank look in his eyes. did he just propose to me? his heart beating hard all over his body. « Oh my- fuck- i mean, sorry I didnt wanted to swear, I- yes. Yes of course I wanna marry you Tony! Yes, yes and yes.» he says, a happy tear rolling down his cheek.
Still 25 years old Peter, seeing Tony crying for the first time of his life. The man is in this wonderful gorgeous wedding suit. And Peter thought it was a good idea. He decided to rewrite that weird love song he wrote the man at 10, took some guitar lessons and sang it to the man in the middle of the wedding. He didnt mean to make Tony cry. But the looks he gives him just make Peter’s heart explode in his chest. « I love you, Peter. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. »
And when Peter finds out Tony is using the first letters of every words from the last sentence of this song as his phone password, he smiles, only half surprised.
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a happy baby boy 🥺
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Teacher!Tony x Student!Peter AU
“So I was thinking I could come over and finish our Lego Death Star— Peter, are you even listening to me?”
“Who is... who is that?”
“Oh, him? That’s Mr. Stark. He’s our new Physics teacher or something.”
click here for part 2 of this teacher/student AU
tagging: @muse-of-gods @snowstark @im-a-goner-foryou @starkerswonderland
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starker: darkness meets light
I have this particular idea about mafia boss Tony falling for NICU nurse Peter. They meet in a café one morning and start chatting. Tony lies about his work while Peter opens up easily about his work. Tony couldn’t care less about children, let alone babies, but something in him changes once he hears Peter talk about the tiny babies on his ward.
A few days later, Peter comes to work and the NICU ward is buzzing. A coworker tells Peter with tears in her eyes that someone made a 500 000$ donation to their ward. Peter has an idea who this mysterious doner could be...
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The Arachnoids: ROCK BAND AU [STARKER] - Chapter 18: FIVE FEET APART
READ “CHAPTER 18: FIVE FEET APART” HERE ON AO3
Find the masterpost with all the chapters linked here!
Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth & @staticwhispersinthedark
(Let me know if you want to be added!)
Chapter 18: Five Feet Apart
“Aight, dude,” Ned says and leans back in his chair. His lips are curled into a smirk, and Peter already braces himself for the question to come. He knows his friend too well. MJ smirks and nudges Harley, the poor roadie awfully oblivious to what’s about to go down.
“Just ask,” Peter grunts semi-teasingly.
“Are you going to make this official with Tony before, during, or after our tour?”
Peter stares at Ned. His jaw drops at the question. He knew something was coming, but he didn’t expect this. So, in the end, he gives the most basic answer he could’ve ever given.
“Oh, come on!” MJ chimes in. “As if you don’t know what we’re talking about.”
Peter can feel his cheeks heating up fast.
“I… Tony and I- eh,” he stammers, “-we’re just… Really good friends, y’know?” Peter knows how fake it sounds, and he wishes he could vanish. He’s only making this worse than it already is. Harley snorts and nudges MJ this time.
“To hell with that! You’re not ‘really good friends’. You two are literally two bros chillin’ in a hot tub, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay.”
“Oh my god!” MJ laughs, “I can’t believe you know that vine!”
“You wound me! I may be straight, but I’m vibin’ on the right side of the Internet.”
“They’re not five feet apart, though. And they both know they’re very, very gay,” Ned smirks. Harley laughs.
“That makes it even worse, not gonna lie.”
“Hey!” Peter says, exasperated. “I’m right here!”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Harley deadpans, and Peter clamps his lips together. Harley hums, obviously pleased with himself. “I knew it.”
“Fine,” Peter sighs. “We may be interested in each other. But nothing happened. We never talked about it, eh- Not really, anyways. Besides, Tony is busy with Morgan right now. Let’s have him have that peace for a while.” Peter sighs. He gets up from his chair, needing to do something other than just sit there and take it all. He chews on his bottom lip and stands there awkwardly, not sure where to go.
Harley’s teasing posture vanishes, and a hint of seriousness flashes across his face.
“I don’t know if you realize it, Pete. Because yeah, sure, Tony is doing much better now that he has Morgan back in his life. But he’s never as peaceful as when you’re around. You… Light him up.”
“I don’t think…”
“No, Peter, you do. I don’t think he realizes it yet, but he’s madly in love with you. And well, you are madly in love with him too.”
Peter doesn’t answer right away. It’s a bit much, to be honest. He’s definitely been aware of his liking towards the other guitarist, but he never thought it was more than that. When he thinks about it, though, it makes so much sense. He wants to spend every bit of free time with the man. He wants to take care of him. See him smile, and laugh, and live his best life. But he wants even more. He wants to hold Tony at night, in the safety of the man’s cotton sheets. He wants to wake up next to him, listen to his cute little snores. He wants to be there and support The Avengers’ shows, even when The Arachnoids are no longer there to open for them.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Central Park, Tony laughs as he watches Morgan run around the small studio with one of Steve’s drumsticks. She’s too sweet to actually throw it or hit something too harshly, but every now and then, she uses it to poke into the floor or Tony’s leg.
“Careful with auntie Natasha, little monkey!” He chuckles when he sees her charging towards Natasha. The redhead crouches down and grins.
“Come here,” she says, and when Morgan listens, she giggles out loud and glances in Tony’s direction mischievously. Oh boy.
“Daddy!” She shrieks and runs towards him. “Nata says I can go buy my own instrument soon!”
“Oh, did she now?”
“Yeah! Oh, oh! Do you think Petey wants to come along? He’s so cool!”
Tony doesn’t know why he blushes, but he does, and he’s very aware of both Steve and Natasha noticing it. Dammit.
“I’ll ask him, ‘kay?”
“Okay!” And just like that, she runs off again. Where she gets the energy from, Tony doesn’t know. He keeps a close eye on her, but when he sees she sits down and discards the drumstick for one of her own toys, he loosens up a bit.
“So,” Steve clears his throat. “You and ‘Petey’, uh? What’s that all about?”
“What do you mean?” Tony says, knowing damn well what they’re talking about but unsure whether he’s ready to acknowledge his thoughts.
“You two are pretty close,” Steve simply says. “One might think it could be more. You talk about him. A lot. And you brought him along to Pep, didn’t you?” Tony thinks about that for a second.
“I guess I did? I… He’s amazing.” Tony laughs breathlessly, almost mocking himself. “But he’s only 22. I’m not gonna be the one to drop that bomb on him unless he’s the one asking for it.”
“I understand that, Tones,” Natasha says and sends him a knowing smile. “You should at least talk to him about it, though. Heck, you two are going to have guitar battles and duets on stage. I reckon that’s gonna be intense enough as it is.”
Tony feels a little dumb when he realizes she’s absolutely right. He should talk about this with Peter. As vague as they may have been about this all this time, it’s one hundred percent clear that Peter’s intentions are inching towards something other than just a friendship too. And if he doesn’t tell Peter, then how can the kid ever make up his mind?
Tony doesn’t say anything, and neither do Steve and Natasha. But Tony can read from their faces that he has their approval, and it makes him feel lightheaded just thinking about the possibilities and what it could mean to him. To them.
Now he just has to figure out the right moment to bring this up. Only three days left before they get on their flight for the second half of their tour. That should work out just fine. Right.
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Company Chapter 5: Beltane - Epilogue
Moodboard made by Kim <3
Summary: All is well that ends well.
Author’s note: Thank you soooooo much for joining me on this “art project!” I hope you enjoyed it! There might be some things that one could wonder are unresolved, but I have answers to all questions. They just didn't feel right to put in this chapter. If you're curious, feel free to ask! <3
Thanks again and til next time!!! <3
Warnings for this chapter: Smutty and fluffy. Magic sex. Yay!
Go to the Masterpost
Read Company - Chapter 5: Beltane - Epilogue on AO3
Peter saunters through the woods, a goofy smile spread across his face. There’s no backpack filled with food resting on his shoulders this time. He doesn’t need it. In his hands, he casually clutches a bouquet he bought. It’s a colorful collection of wild flowers the florist carefully put together. He breathes in the early Summer air and skips once over the forest floor, making a twirl.
“Oberon?” Peter asks quietly. Purposefully. A swift presence appears behind him and he turns with a smile.
“Puck.” Tony and Peter come together in a tight embrace. The Fae unashamedly breathes Peter in and smiles a kiss into his hair. “Peter…”
“Stars, my name sounds so heavenly from your lips.” The college student’s shoulders jolt through his laugh against Tony’s chest.
“What am I supposed to reply to that?” Peter chuckles. Tony gently rubs his cheek on Peter’s hair.
“Mmm… Just say my name once more.”
“Maybe twice… Or three times. Or a thousand.” Peter smirks and pulls away to look the Fae in the eye.
“Won’t you prefer kissing my lips?” An immediate grin plasters itself on Tony’s face.
“Now that is a reply.”
It takes less than a second for them to cross the distance and share breaths. They connect and Peter shamelessly pushes forward, rubbing his crotch against Tony’s thigh. A brief growl escapes Oberon’s throat and he pulls back, lips wet with Peter’s love.
“Needy,” he tuts.
“Always,” Peter teases, wiggling his eyebrows. Against Peter’s wants, Tony pulls back further and eyes Peter’s hand as he takes it back in from behind Tony. “What do we have here?”
“I brought you flowers!” Peter excitedly exclaims. The gears in his head turn and he looks at it for a second before sighing. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize this gift is kind of useless… You can literally make flowers with a wave of your hands.” His arm drops. “You don’t need more.”
“I want them,” Tony deadpans. Peter looks up surprised.
“You do?” He scoffs quietly.
“Yes, these flowers may be dying soon now because they’ve been cut, but they’re a gift from you. You thought of me when you got these. You made the effort to get me this. Part of your day was spent caring for me by picking this. Every gift is an honor to receive- especially from you.” Peter grins with delight and offers Tony the flowers. The Fae gratefully takes them and closes his eyes as he brings them up to take in their fragrance.
“Mmm…” Oberon sighs content.
“Do they smell good?” Peter asks shyly.
“Lovely…” Tony opens his eyes. There’s a mischievous sparkle in them that has Peter’s gut tingle with anticipation. “But I know something that smells even better.” Peter’s breath catches in the back of his throat, but he manages to push the next word out regardless.
“W-what?” The Fae’s irises light up and with his magic he tightens the bond that was created by sharing their names. All Peter can focus on now is everything Tony; this blissful yet unexplainable floatiness that comes with being near the Fae. Oberon pushes in, casually tossing the flowers to the ground so he can push both his hands under Peter’s shirt.
Tony invades Peter’s space and presses gentle kisses on the shell of the young man’s ear, ocassionally leaving some kitten licks. Peter can only smile and let it all happen.
“Your smell, your taste, your presence…” The growl Oberon lets out sends a shiver through Peter’s entire body. Tony’s fingers find Peter’s nipples. “You, my sweet, are divine beyond imagining.” Right at the enunciation, Tony pinches his fingers together, causing Peter to gasp and buck against Tony’s body. “You are a deity and deserving of a world I will gladly give you.” The speed at which Peter completely loses his intelligence around Oberon still boggles his mind. Right now, however, Peter is perfectly content with where he is.
“Just because I am the one who can perform magic, does not mean I am not the one utterly entranced by you.” One of Tony’s hands lowers back down Peter’s chest, tickling his skin. “By your voice, your eyes, your…” Suddenly, Oberon’s fingers breach the hem of Peter’s pants and curl around the hardening shaft. “…shape.” A quiet moan falls from Peter’s lips.
“T-Tony-“ As a reward, the Fae squeezes and tugs, causing Peter to lean into it even further.
“Tony-“ Another reward, another moan.
“Say it, Peter. Say my name.”
Puck and Oberon lay in a clearing in the woods, surrounded by blooming flowers and a pleasant warmth. The breeze gently washing over them is slightly chilly, but more than welcome under the sun. They’re bare, staring into each other’s eyes as their hands tease hair and skin. Their heads are crowned with flowers, an indication of their reign of their small and contained makeshift kingdom. The corners of their lips are curled up indefinitely, showing no sign of ever pointing down again. They bask in the sunlight and each other, enjoying their flushed bodies and entangled legs.
“Would you stay with me?” Oberon whispers quietly, eyes searching. “Forever?” Peter sighs content and scoots a little closer until his head rests on Tony’s chest.
“And rule Winter Court?”
“By my side.” It’s quiet for a second too long for Tony’s taste. “You can say no.”
“No, I-“ Peter sits up straight, breaking the tranquil scene. He stares at the flowers, away from the Fae. “I want to be with you.”
“Just not at court?” Peter nods quickly.
“I wouldn’t fit in.” Tony laughs at that and joins Peter in sitting up straight. “Beck will probably try to kill me after what happened last time.”
“First, he would not. If he even so much as tries to touch one hair on your beautiful head, I will have him lose his. Secondly, do you think I fit in?” His hand finds Peter’s face and moves a stray curl before cupping his jaw. “Am I cold and evil?” Peter grins.
Tony huffs faux-offended.
“Name one time!”
“Hmm,” Peter teases as he grabs his chin, thinking carefully. “About an hour ago when you considered not letting me cum after three hours of edging?” The Fae bursts out laughing and quickly moves in until they turn and Peter is caged on the ground between Oberon’s arms.
“What is the alternative?” Peter wants to swear at his cock, already betraying him again. He decides to play along, though.
“You could just let me cum whenever I want to.” Oberon pouts at that.
“Oh, but what’s the fun in that.” His tongue swiftly finds Puck’s bare chest and swirls lazy circles before he leaves a wet kiss. “Would that not bore you?”
“Why don’t we find out?”
Tony lowers his abdomen until both of their semi-hard cocks brush past each other. Peter gasps at the fluttering sensation, but it quickly turns to a whine when Oberon simply keeps teasing.
“You think you can go again already? Are you not tired?” Peter puffs his cheeks. The question is kind and considerate- Peter hadn’t even thought of whether or not he would actually be able to go again. It’s not soon and he does have the libido of a college student, but their three hour edging session did take a lot out of him. “Or do you need a hand?” Oberon smirks. A strangled moan escapes Puck’s throat when suddenly, Oberon grabs both of their cocks in his hand and starts stroking them while also lazily rolling his hips. The hand seems to glow slightly and Peter feels rejuvenated. Awake and present and… Fuck, he’s horny.
“Evil,” Peter whimpers at Oberon's magic use, which causes Tony to slow down his movement.
“I can stop if you want.”
“No- fuck, no, keep going.”
“As you wish.” Tony puts in a bit more effort now and seems to relish in the fact that Peter is already a mess again. His look darkens. “I’ll be as evil as you want me to be.” Even if that’s not what Peter meant – and they both know it – Peter doesn’t care anymore. “Our promise may be fulfilled after today, but I will make sure you keep coming back every time.” The student bucks into the Fae’s hand.
“H-H… How?” Peter bares his teeth in a cheeky grin. As much as Tony teases Peter, Peter still likes to fight back.
Puck moans unashamedly when Oberon’s magic envelopes and enters him, pulsating and caressing and simply straight up fucking him into oblivion. The edge nears dangerously fast and all Peter can do is take it. Oberon sucks a mark on Peter’s neck and growls.
“By keeping you coming.”
“Oh, what a beggar you are,” Oberon taunts. “How many times do you want to come, my flower?” His eyes sparkle with delight. “Once? Maybe twice? Three times? Or a thousand…” Peter grips some of the flowers next to him to ground himself. His chest heaves with his heavy breaths. “Answer me, Peter.” A scoff falls from Peter’s lips before he answers. The Fae certainly likes to use their newfound bond to make Peter do all kinds of things.
“Until all I can say is your name.” Tony leans in, fully pressing himself against Peter now, rubbing their bodies together. He moves in to kiss Peter, but before he does, he whispers victoriously.
“Now that is a reply.”
----------------------------------THE END ----------------------------------
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Under the Covers (Chapter 1)
“Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.”
“You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”
Someone tell me why I do these things. I swear. Blame @itfeelssogoodmrstark. Now I’ve gotta go work on finals goddamnit-
“We need your help, Stark.”
“And why would I help you?”
“Because we need you to. And you want these assholes off the street just as bad as we do. You’re the only one in the position to make this mission happen.”
“I’m the only person you consider expendable, you mean. I put myself in danger all the time, so it’s okay for you to do it, too, right?”
Doesn’t play well with others.
“That’s not what I said.”
“And yet that’s what you meant.”
A heavy sigh on the other end. “Hear whatever you’d like, I’m not going to argue with you. I need to know if you’re willing to do this or not, because you’ll need to meet your partner-“
“Partner? I thought I was too volatile to work with others. Besides, Iron Man doesn’t need a partner.”
“Well, we don’t need you as Iron Man. We need you as Tony Stark.”
“And yet I remember hearing the exact opposite a few months ago. Funny how that works,” he snarks.
“What you do in that tin can isn’t what I need right now. We need something more subtle.”
“Subtle? What about me is subtle? Agent Romanov is the epitome of subtle. Even fooled me. Try her.”
Another sigh, then: “Not that subtle. We need the built-in status and resources that you have as your… distinguished self. That’s key to this mission, as is the partner. Now if you’re gonna ask questions, can you at least come in and debrief in person so I’m not wasting more of all of our time?”
And he has more questions, so he agrees. He’s nothing if not nosy. And it’ll be fun to string Fury along just long enough to get on his nerves even if he decides not to consult on this particular mission.
Consult, of course. That’s his job. He’s too much of a mess to be an Avenger. And that’s fine with him. He likes flying solo, doing things on his own terms, most of the time.
But he has agreed to consult on some cases. Partially because he owes Fury, and he doesn’t like owing people. He’d worked hard to get out of the debt of owing people after everything that happened with Obie. But he couldn’t deny Fury had saved his ass with the whole pallidum poisoning thing. He’d likely have died if left on his own.
And, well, partially because… yeah, maybe he has a bit of a hero complex. But something bothers him too much now about standing off to the side in any serious situation.
And these mutant drugs going around were certainly a serious situation. But he didn’t understand why blasting the drug lord to hell wasn’t going to be enough to handle it.
“So what’s the big idea, Fury?” he asks, a few hours later, as the elder man finally enters the conference room -- where they’d left him waiting for way longer than strictly necessary, he’s sure. “I don’t understand what the big hoopla is. Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” He bats his eyes at him, pulling a mock-sad face.
Fury doesn’t look amused. He drops a file down on the table in front of him. “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”
“I don’t recall agreeing to do anything yet, so careful with all those orders, cyclops.” Tony sits up, dropping the facade in favor of reaching for the file. “What is this?”
“Case overview. Read it.”
“I already know as much about it as you do.” It’s true; he’d already been looking into this particular problem on his own before Fury had contacted him to ask him about consulting. Course, the fact that their interests were overlapping was about the only thing he knew so far, aside from what he’d figured out on his own, but Fury didn’t need to know that.
“Just read it, Stark.”
Tony does. He skims the file, frowning a little as he reads. Maybe they knew a bit more than he did, then.
The head of the operation, from what they could tell, was one Quentin Beck. Or at least, he was the highest part of the food chain that they knew of for now.
He was the man that Tony had landed on, as well. But SHIELD had more on the inner workings than he did. Some of the stock houses, the loading areas, some of the runners involved in the operation. More information about where Beck stayed, what social circles he ran in. He used to be a special effects coordinator, apparently, before he was swept into the life of crime. He had a background in technology and biochemical engineering. Interesting.
His profile was even more interesting. It looked oddly similar to his, in some ways. Narcissist. Compulsive. Playboy. Doesn’t play well with others. Likes to be the center of attention. Craves power.
“Interesting profile. Let me guess, Romanov wrote it too?” Tony deadpans.
Fury narrows his good eye at him, taking the file back. “Ha-ha. Believe it or not, the similarities in your personalities are part of why we need you.”
“Why? You want me to make friends with him?”
Fury shakes his head. “Beck likes power. He craves attention. He’s smart, he’s sly, and he’s worked years to get to where he is in the food chain. He sees our agents coming from a mile away every time we try to send someone in. He knows who the moles are as soon as they poke their heads out. Two weeks ago, one of our agents went in as a fake buyer and never returned. We can’t afford to keep going like this. We’re getting nothing. We’re losing our people and countless more are dying in the streets because of the shit he’s selling.”
“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.” Tony tilts his head. “I can’t go undercover. You don’t want me to go undercover, you don’t want me to be friends with him. Am I supposed to be your next buyer? You think he’d buy that? Or do you want me to offer him something? Because I don’t sell weapons anymore, Fury. Not even for you.”
“No weapons. Nothing like that.” Fury pauses. “The long and short is, right now, Beck is untouchable. We can’t get anyone in to get any information and no one is rolling, even the few we’ve managed to get ahold of. He’s funneling his drug money through legitimate businesses, so there’s no proof. He’s covering his tracks well. But he does have one weakness.” Fury pulls a photo out of the file and slaps it on the desk in front of him.
Tony’s eyes drop to it instinctively, and he feels his mouth go dry. It’s a boy -- a pretty boy. Springy, messy curls, Bambi eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. The photo is just a headshot, but he has a feeling that he’s just as lithe and pretty the rest of the way down as he is from the top.
But he’s also young. Obviously young. Mid-twenties, at the most, although he’s struggling to believe that he’s even that old.
He forces himself to swallow, lifting his eyes back to Fury. “Is that his kid?”
Fury barks out a laugh. “No. Not his kid.”
That’s enough to jolt him back to his senses. Tony refocuses, raising an eyebrow. “Yet?” He doesn’t like the sound of this already.
“This is where your similarities come in handy, Stark.” Fury picks up the photo. “Beck has a penchant for pretty young things. Particularly taken pretty young things.”
“That feeds his ego. He likes seducing them. He likes to play sugar daddy for them -- drugs or clothes or money or whatever it is they want in exchange for them making him look good and feel powerful. It’s a game to him. But he only likes high-quality things. The more powerful the men he takes them from, the better.”
“So… we need to give him someone powerful to take him from.”
It hits him like a ton of bricks.
This is where your similarities come in handy.
“You can’t be serious. How old is he, twelve? I mean, really-”
“-he’s practically still in diapers. Probably still in school. Forcing him to play lap dog to someone like Beck is just… wrong.”
Fury sighs. “No one is forcing him to do anything, Stark. He knows what’s involved in the mission. I assure you no one will be making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. And he’s not still in diapers. He has a Bachelor’s in Biochemistry and is working on his Master’s.”
Tony blinks. “At twenty-three?”
“It happens. Look at you.”
Look at you.
Yeah, sure, but he’s never met anyone else near close to his level. And look at the amount of emotional damage he sustained from it.
“Fair,” is all he says aloud. “But he’s got so much potential. Surely he’s got better — less dangerous, less dehumanizing — offers. What’s he doing mixed up with SHIELD?”
“That’s for he and I to know and you to not worry about,” Fury says shortly. “All we need from you is to cohabitate and pretend to be together long enough to get Peter inside and for us to see this mission through. Are you going to do it or not?”
“Hold on, back up a sec. Cohabitate? You’re gonna make the poor kid move in with me, too?” Not that he has any qualms about giving the kid a place to live, per se — God knows he has more than enough for both of them. The space, the money, the resources. But that means he actually has to live with him.
He hasn’t had a partner in ages, one night stand or otherwise. Since his capture, he’s plagued by nightmares too much to sleep like a normal person, and letting anyone see the arc reactor or get that close to him, physically, in general is just one big no.
He and Pepper had tried, but there was just too much between them. She had a company to run. He was busy being Iron Man. They had barely seen each other. And when they had seen each other, it was always just… fighting about something or the other. That he was too reckless. That he was too isolated. That he didn’t trust her, that he needed therapy, that the way he lives is unhealthy, that he missed this or that meeting, that he drinks too much, that he just hid too much stuff.
She wanted to change him, and he couldn’t let her do it. He wasn’t ready. And part of him knows it’s stupid, unsustainable, unhealthy. But he’s not ready to face it all either. He still cares about her, of course, and she’s still the CEO of Stark Industries, and doing a damn good job at it. But the likelihood there’ll ever be a future there is slim to none. He knows that now.
Fury’s voice snaps him back to the present. “It has to look serious, Stark. He can’t just be a fling. Beck won’t take interest in that. We’ve already laid the groundwork for making him move in and making the whole shebang look believable. Now you just need to do your part. Let him stay with you at least a few nights a week, make a few public appearances together, and let him do his job. No one is saying you actually have to sleep with him -- although I admit I hadn’t expected you to seem so turned off from the idea.”
Tony doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “Are you sure this is the only option? Why can’t I just blast him into next week? Or you send Romanov in with her sweet talking to… I don’t know, poison his drink or something?”
Fury sighs. “We need to know what he knows. We need to know more about where the drugs are coming from. How. Why. Who’s involved. Everything. We only get one chance at this, Stark. You know how it works. He’s the highest person we know of that we have a chance of reaching. If he slips away, we’ll have to start over. We lose all our leads. More people die. This could give us everything we need to know. But he has to come to us. And the only way to get him to do that is bait.” He sets the picture back down on the table, jamming his finger into the middle of the kid’s forehead. “He’s fully prepared to do whatever it takes to do so. Are you, hero?”
Hero. It’s not said scathingly, exactly, but it’s clearly a challenge, all the same. A muscle in Tony’s jaw jumps before he forcefully unclenches it, letting out a breath. “So do I get to get his name before he moves in with me, or…?”
Fury smirks. He turns back to face the door he’d come through, raising his voice. “Parker!”
A moment later, the door opens again. This time, it’s the kid from the picture who enters.
He looks even more baby-faced in person. And yeah, he’s definitely just as lithe and gorgeous as Tony had imagined he would be. Great. Good to know.
He approaches the table they’re sitting at with short, fast strides, hands gripping the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder. He was already packed. They certainly banked on him saying yes, didn’t they?
He comes to a stop beside Fury, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stands there. “Hi!” he chirrups. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. Big fan, by the way.”
Aaaand he’s a fanboy too. This just gets better and better.
“Tony Stark. But you knew that, I suppose.” He looks pointedly at Fury. “You’re going to send him undercover? You sure about this?” He just seems so… pure. Happy and outgoing and young and probably way, way too naive to be mixed up with SHIELD’s shenanigans.
“As sure as I was the first three times you asked.” Fury fixes him with one of his looks. “Are you gonna take him home or not?”
Take him home. Like he’s a puppy or something. Jesus.
Though puppy certainly wasn’t what Peter is thinking, if the way his cheeks color slightly is any indication. This kid is going to be the death of him, isn’t he?
“Yeah, I suppose so.” He stands, pushing the thoughts away. “You ready, kid?”
“All set, Mr. Stark.” Peter starts to make his way around the table, and Tony turns towards the door.
“You can’t do that,” Fury says, stopping them both in their tracks. “You’re gonna blow cover before you even establish it.”
Tony turns back to face him, exasperated. “We haven’t even left yet!”
“And you’re calling each other by formalities, walking with six feet of space between you, and letting him carry his own bag. Really, you’re not off to a great start.”
“What do you want me to do, hold his hand and shower him with kisses? We literally just met.”
Fury rolls his eye. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but don’t be so dramatic. You have to act like a normal, healthy couple. You don’t have to make out on the street, but you could walk beside the kid, for God’s sake.”
“I’m not normal or healthy anything. You should know that -- isn’t that what your agent said?”
Fury ignores him, standing up. He looks at Peter. “Better control your boyfriend, kid, before he blows your cover. I’ll call you when we’ve got a place for you to start.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.
They both stare at him as he leaves. It’s silent for a long moment before Peter turns around to face him, color still lingering slightly in his cheeks. “So, uh… ready to go, Mr.- uh… Tony?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go, kid.” Tony lets out a breath and heads for the door, but at a slower pace this time, letting Peter fall into step with him. He opens the door for him, then follows him out and leads the way back to his car. This… this is going to be something, but he isn’t sure if fun is the right word for it.
What had he just gotten himself into?
Let me know if you want to be tagged!
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Starker: Dear Future Husband
Peter knew that this day would come. Today he was going to meet his future husband for the first time. All Peter knew about him right then was that his name was Tony, he was also of royal blood, wealthy and a lot older than him.
His parents told Peter that he could still say No if he didn't like Tony and they would find someone else, but Peter didn't want to disappoint them.
All of Peter's worries vanished, however, when Tony suddenly stood before him and looked at him with his warm brown eyes. Peter decided right there that his parents did a great job choosing his soon-to-be husband.
@starkerfestivals AUpril Event: Royalty
Also tagging @grace-of-creation 😘
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wanna say that again ? look at me in the eyes and say it.
don’t need a nap.
oh I think you do.
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Soulmate AU for AUpril Starker- @starkerfestivals
Synesthesia (Chapter 1. 5: Set up)
Words: 1.8 K.
Warnings: Curse words
Final day! I couldn't finish an specific soulmate AU for the challenge, so this is the second chapter of another Soulmate AU (that you should check out, is really fluffy!)
For the people who were waiting for it, sorry for how long this took! I'll try to do more updates.
P. S: @starkerprince sorry for the wait!
Hope you enjoy!
Tony Stark was, in fact, healing.
Slowly, baby step like. He began brushing his teeth again, having showers every two days. He stopped eating take-out food -the disposable tableware being the only reason why he liked it so much. If his wife were there, she would have shaken her head wuth pity-, forcing himself to remember the meals he cooked for himself when his parents weren't home and the ones he cooked for his family.
It had been a little bit harder to finally understand the idea that he wouldn't see his family again. He refused to throw away his son's toys, his wife's jewelry. Did it hurt seeing the traces of the people he loved the most and were gone across the house? Yes. Was he going to do something about it? Well... not yet.
He got in touch with people he hadn't talked to for weeks. First with Rhodey, who had been worried for him and was glad he was pulling himself together. Then with Happy, whose calls he had been ignoring and who replied to his texts as soon as he read Tony's name on the screen.
Rhodey got him to do an interview for MIT as a teacher, and he had been recently informed that he got the job, which meant he was moving from LA to Massachussets as soon as winter break was over.
He looked forward to leave the house. He couldn't help but to remember, the memories haunting him down the hallway and over the kitchen counter, and he couldn't think of something that could hurt him more than realizing how he thought his life was going to be just that. Going to work and coming home, picking up his son from kindergarten, waiting for his wife to come home. Making dinner on the weekends and playing with their son.
That was how his life was supposed to be for the years to come. He was meant to die by his wife's side, on the house they made a home. Remembering how his future was taken away from him felt like putting a finger in a wound, dirty fingers mixing with the blood, squeezing the flesh as the pain expanded through him. But there was always someone there for him when that happened.
He had to admit that his soulmate was the only drop of hope he had of living a life after his family left.
He got used to the feeling of love they provided whenever he was feeling down, as he got used to the sudden anxiety from his partner. Once in a while, he would feel his heart stop with the smell of coffee and ink over sheets of paper that he knew well from his college days, his blood freezing as he remembered the pressure of deadlines, of having the highest mark.
Having long walks around the city and watching people on the bus in his way home brought the comfort of his young adulthood, when studying got too overwhelming and maths and boards were keeping him from a healthy sleep schedule. He would walk down the empty streets, his fingers playing with the threads of the insides of his pockets, the music on the radio locking all the information he tried to remember in an invisible cage. But there in LA, he found some pleasure in the casino neon lights and in apartments inhabited by people as sleep deprived as he was, all white and yellow lights in symmetrical glass squares.
Tony thought about them every day, he wasn't going to deny it. His mind pictured this image of a person he didn't know anything about, and now he found himself looking at stuff- white roses, blue sweaters, golden chains, vanilla scent and, yes, pastel colored lingerie- that somehow reminded him of them. And he wasn't sure if it was hope or intuition, if it was an idealisation or a sixth sense that was whispering clues to him. He'd heard rumours of people who sensed their partners through the smell, but he didn't quite understand what was going on. It was just there.
Talking about the devil, he felt a shift in the air as a certain kind of heat filled his soul.
He smiled at the cup of coffee that he was holding. The steam flowed with ease and dissapeared into the air, that went away, so far away...
"Peter, I know you're on cloud nine, but I would love if you sticked to Earth for a minute" May said to the empty body of his nephew as she tried to pick one of the presents they bought that was a little too heavy.
"Sorry" he muttered, falling from the fluffy pink cloud he had been seating in for the last hours and reaching to help.
They had gone shopping for the holidays, which they usually spent in May's friends house, with a family that felt like their own. Peter longed to see Linguini- the ginger cat who loved to sit on his lap while they had dinner, scratching his jeans from time to time- and to talk to Wanda, who was as obsessed with romance as he was and never said no when Peter asked her how her and Jar started dating for about the hundredth time.
Something about Christmas made him so... happy. The snow falling, people dressed in huge coats, in beanies and gloves, dark figures moving under warm lights, red and green ties, colorful shops that offered bread, toys, clothes. Just the thought of the huge tree, the twinkling red decorations that Wanda loved and the photos of both families they printed and hid in between sparkling ball, made his heart sink with excitement- it was no surprise the feeling had gotten to Tony. Peter couldn't know, anyways.
Wrapping gifts while drinking hot chocolate was one of the most heart warming activities Peter could think of.
May smirked at her nephew's choice of music, more amused than annoyed.
"I'm afraid Taylor Swift put a spell on you, Peter. She's making thousands of dollars from your monthly streams alone" she said to the nineteen year old with messy hair and green and cream sweater he loved wearing because it reminded him of the color of the trees- his aunt didn't have the heart to tell him it looked like a grandma's.
He grinned at her, folding the paper with printed snowmen wearing scarfs and hats, humming "Christmas tree farm".
Peter let himself get distracted in the holidays, dive into the respite from the stress college was giving him. He was good, yeah, but good wasn't enough. He knew that people didn't like him there, that he was belittled by his classmates because of the way he was.
It wasn't anything new, the way people looked at him. He got used to it on the streets, on the mall or waiting rooms. He even got catcalled a few times, obscene words that he didn't have idea of their existence, but which meaning was familiar to Aunt May, because she would often answer to them and tell Peter it was nothing. At first he liked the attention, as anyone would, but with time, he was always alert of the looks, of the people's expressions, if their mouths were going to open up and shoot words he didn't want to hear.
College wasn't any different. Still, Peter wondered if it was that he liked to wear pink, that he wore highlighter or that even with all those things he got better grades than them.
At least that's what Harrison told him. He was a blonde, blue eyed guy that couldn't give any less of a fuck about what he wore. Peter had this specific place he liked to sit on the library to work on stuff, and Harry sat in front of him most of the time. They had to talk somewhere along the semester, and when conversation happened, they were surprised about how much they had in common, even when they studied different careers- none of them though the other would like Star Wars, because Peter looked like a princess and Harry like a highschool jock, and they didn't think any of them liked sci-fi films and sorting movie characters into Hogwarts houses.
Anyways, Peter wanted to fit in, and Aunt May noticed.
"You're not wearing nail polish anymore" she asked, confused, when the days passed and he wasn't doing any of the things he liked when he was in highschool. "What happened to 'liking having colors on your skin and seeing your cheeks shine with sunlight'?"
"I guess I'm not into that anymore" he had muttered, ignoring how much he craved both of those.
May didn't say anything, but she didn't stop offering to paint his nails, unlike Peter, who started to stop refusing.
Even on his bad days at college, he still loved his soulmate. He could guess that, if the last times he felt their smell was anything to go by, they could smell him too. And they wanted him to know they did.
The first time he realized that, Peter had jumped out of excitement, nearly making his laptop fall off the bed, and was followed by a period of time of ridiculous hyperactivity, that ended with him laying on the floor and smiling at the spiderwebs on the ceiling of his dorm. His curiosity did nothing but grow, his heart racing with anticipation.
It was something.
He couldn't help but fall in absolute stupidity whenever he felt the soothing sensation of that smell. It smelled like chamomile tea, and May's shampoo. The scent would take him back to nightmares proceeded by anxiety attacks, that May taught how to make them go away. When she was with him, she would hold him and count for him to breathe, her voice a whisper, caressing his cheek with her fingers and the slow sound of her pronouncing the numbers, one and two, three and four, five and six...
It was, indeed, a smell of calmness.
Unconsciously, he was looking for people with those smells- which was useless, given that he could smell what they were feeling through his own experiences of said sentiment. His brown orbes would go after men and women, adults and teenagers, whose perfume could match with the smell of the person he had been craving. He knew he wasn't going to find him that easily, nor he was going to recognize him. But the wish was there, and Peter kept expressing his longing for them without shame.
Because for Peter, there was no shame in love.
May didn't make fun of him when she caught him wrapping the little box at twelve AM. She just told him to get some sleep after he finished his task. Peter didn't feel dumb or corny when he put the small present in the white desk where his little altar once was- there was a smaller version on the drawer at Cambridge.
The boy placed the gift on the corner of the wood surface. He pressed his lips on his fingers, trying to remember what it was like to have someone's mouth over his.
"Merry Christmas" he thought to himself. To them, actually, now that both of them were aware of each other's existence.
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