I Dont Even Daydream About Myself Anymore I Just Daydream About Two Fictional Characters Kissing And

i dont even daydream about myself anymore i just daydream about two fictional characters kissing and project onto one of them

Anon, I got your ask. I’m working on it just for you and when it’s done I’ll publish the ask with a link for you, hun. Ty for the love. E>

Oct 20: Candy and Sweets

Peter’s doing some last-minute sweeping when the bell at the door rings as it’s opened. He closes his eyes and mutters a low curse to himself. It was already so late, he probably should’ve flipped the sign or something, but he didn’t really expect anyone to come in after nine.

He turns and forces on the smile, surprised to see none other than Morgan Stark running up to the front display and pressing her fingers to the glass.

“Oh, hey Morgan,” he says and stops what he’s doing, setting the broom aside, “Just here to look?”

Morgan sighs out a low ‘yeah’, but then smiles widely when she sees some of the Halloween ones that Peter set out for the occasion, “You made bats!”

Peter nods, “Uh, yeah. Aunt May doesn’t like them, she thinks they’re rodents. But-”

“I love bats,” Morgan says just as he does and they share a look, “Daddy took me to see baby bats last year.”

“Really?” Peter asks, leaning over the counter, “Fruit bats?”

“Yes, I-”

He glances up when the bell goes off again and then feels his toes curl in his shoes when he sees Mr. Stark standing there just inside the door.

Oh god.

Morgan is one thing. She’s still kind of up on that celebrity level, but she’s still just a child - she’s only seven, but Mr. Stark on the other hand? He is it, he’s a celebrity’s celebrity, he’s Iron Man himself in the flesh. And so much more to Peter, so maybe he holds his breath.

“You in here, slugger? Ah,” Mr. Stark stops when he sees Peter and smiles that billion-dollar smile, “Wow, you’re really cute. You work here?”

Peter blinks and numbly motions to himself, “Uh, me?”

“Yeah, you,” Mr. Stark says and winks, “You work here?”

“I do.”

Mr. Stark offers his hand, “Tony,” he introduces himself, taking Peter’s hand in his and covering it with his left, glancing him over.

“Peter,” Peter responds, barely able to feel his mouth, “And I know who you are, Mr. Stark, everyone does.”

“Yeah, well,” Mr. Stark shrugs, “I try not to make that assumption. Damn, you are painfully attractive- sorry, that’s not appropriate,” he says and giggles, raising his hands, “I don’t do that, I promise. I haven’t been like that since the early aughts.”

Peter blushes furiously, “No, uh… no, it’s… it’s okay. Surprising? Yes. But… definitely okay.”

Mr. Stark clears his throat and points towards Morgan, “This is my daughter, of course, Morguna Stark, say ‘hello’, kiddo.”

“Oh, we’re well acquainted,” Peter assures him, grinning, “Morgan comes here at /least/ once a week.”

“/Does/ she?” Mr. Stark asks, turning to look at his daughter, then he leans in and speaks lowly, “She doesn’t order anything, does she?”

Peter shakes his head, “Nope, she just comes to look at the pretty designs of the pastries.”

“Good,” Mr. Stark watches his daughter then, “She’s as bad as me,” he supplies, still keeping his voice low, “Sweet tooth from hell and a bad sense of self-control.”

Peter chuckles, “I guess that explains the donut thing.”

“Ah,” Mr. Stark snaps his fingers, pointing at Peter, “My trademark. God, it’s like people associate me more with donuts than they do with science. I have one named after me now and everything.”

“I know,” Peter leans on the cash register, “On National Donut Day, it’s a staple in our shop.”

Mr. Stark throws out his hands helplessly, “Well, I’ve gotta-oh, bats,” he says when he finally notices the Halloween display, moving over and leaning down to look, “These are really cute. Normally you just see the generic ones, you know? But… these really are super cute,” his voice gets lower the more he says, taking a picture of the display and turning back to Peter, “Mind if I try one?”

Peter blinks for a moment, thrown off guard once again.

“Like I said,” Mr. Stark shrugs, “No self-control.”

Peter grins and grabs a tissue to get one of the cookies, snagging a second just in case.

“Oh, you’re an angel, you read my mind,” Mr. Stark takes them, offering one to his daughter as he bites into his own, humming in approval, “Cinnamon, was not expecting that, nice touch.”

“They’re actually assorted, I believe Morgan’s is just chocolate,” Peter says as he watches her, then looks back to Mr. Stark, “I knew you liked cinnamon, so uh…”

“You knew?”

Peter tenses and looks away, “Uh, yeah, yeah, uh… I mean I’ve-yeah-”

“Tell you what,” Mr. Stark leans on the counter and smiles at him, “I don’t normally do this, but if you can tell me what my /favorite/ flavor of ice cream is, I’ll give you something nice.”

Peter feels the blood start rising up again, “Uhm, uh… it’s super fudge brownie, right?”

Mr. Stark looks impressed, then motions with a nudge of his head for Peter to lean in, “That was good, you didn’t even really hesitate with your answer.”

“Oh come on, everyone knows-” Peter stills when Mr. Stark cups his cheeks and presses a kiss to his lips.

Peter responds, albeit a little late, kissing him back and grinning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really do this, I’m a little rusty,” Mr. Stark says and pulls back, “Pretty sure I’m reading you right, though. Any chance you’re available to-”

“Yes,” Peter responds before Mr. Stark can finish what he’s saying.

Enjoy? You can buy me a ko-fi or join my Patreon for lots more Starker stuff early and some exclusives, live writing etc…

Whumptober - 9. Shackled

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

(Flash back, cont’d from last but not same memory)

They’ve been captured and tortured since too many times to count.

Tony’s always with him or determined to follow it through that most of the time they’re together. And any time they’re not, it’s the other that finds them eventually.

When they’re taken by aliens, they’re at a slight disadvantage.

Even the containment cell they’re put in is completely unusual and foreign tech that Tony ponders at, moving over to check how the bars of energy flow through from the ceiling, down into the ground.

He tests his restraints but they’re nothing like handcuffs on Earth, which is a weird sentence to consider and makes his gut churn.

Still, he tries breaking them with his feet - his bare feet. He tries to break them with his teeth, on the little cot, on the energy bars, on the toilet (or that’s what he’s assuming the thing in the back corner is, he’s still kind of unsure).

“Come on,” he groans when one of the guards passes by his cell, “What’s the point of being in a cell /and/ being handcuffed? Isn’t it all a little redundant? I’m not going-”

He backs away quickly, pressing to the wall when the bars vanish and the guards drag in someone else, throwing them down on the ground before him and Tony recognizes Peter immediately, still wearing his red and blue suit, but not his mask.

Tony runs to the kid to check his pulse, turning him over and his blood runs cold.

“What did you do to him!?” he shouts, standing up and running at the guard, but the guy shoves him away effortlessly and leaves them, the bars coming back down in place, “Hey! What did you do!?”

Tomorrow’s will continue this one! Promise. I love it as well. E>

You and me BOTH. More on that in the future (not with this, but my writing in general is taking that turn).

Always here to serve it UP!

Whumptober - 10. Unconscious

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

(Flash back, cont’d from last)

Tony moves Peter to the only cot in the cell, mindful of how he lays the kid down. There’s no pillow provided, so he takes off his jacket and rolls it up, putting it under Peter’s head to give his neck some support.

He checks him over afterward, but even as he’s checking Peter, he can see the wounds healing and closing up.

For the millionth time, he reminds himself that he worries far too much for Peter. But it can’t be helped. It’s a burden he willingly takes on.

He combs the hair from Peter’s face and takes a seat near the end of the bed.

It’s been over an hour, and sitting on the ground to give Peter room to breathe is nice and all, but his back can only handle so much these days.

Unfortunately, he’s at the mercy of considering his future self.

No one comes back into the cell but the slide a couple of trays of food in. Tony moves everything over to one tray and immediately spends the time while Peter’s unconscious, testing the bars to see if the tray can separate the beams of energy.

It doesn’t work.

Instead, he ends up melting the tray along the edge he tests.

Peter eventually wakes up and Tony offers him the tray of food without another word, having not touched any of it himself.

He watches and waits as the kid eats every last thing on it, tossing it down with Tony’s tray and sitting back against the wall of the cell. A little color returns to his face, that fast metabolism kicking in and changing Peter’s entire demeanor before Tony’s very eyes.

“We getting out of here, sir?”

Tony smiles and nods, motioning to the wall behind Peter, “If you think you can do it, go ahead.”

Peter turns his attention to it and tests it, sliding his fingers over the surface before bracing himself. He reaches out, grabbing Tony and moving him behind Peter so that he’s properly guarded against any debris.

He slams his fist hard into the wall, punching through in one hit before he turns and grabs Tony, leaping out into the daylight beyond.