#and OF COURSE he's secretly fond of peter as well (with time) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sebstan2020 · 1 year

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She Works For The Devil

Chapter 2

Kaylee Holmes, timid and sweet is studying accounting at NYU. To everyone around her, her life is simple, working towards her degree and living a perfect life in the city of New York. But what they don’t know is the dark secret she carries. Working for one of the most powerful men in New York, secretly involved in the Mafia underworld and forced to serve the man himself is not something you tell everyone when you first meet them. However, her life soon changes when she meets young and friendly Peter Parker, just transferred to NYU, and wonders what her life would be like if she could live it out like she tells everyone.

Warnings: Manipulation, Dominant male figures, Slavery, BDSM, Dominance, Submission, Mental abuse, Sexual themes, Dark Bucky Barnes, Possessiveness, Jealousy,

The TV blasted the football game currently playing on the screen, the uproar of cheers as Miami Dolphins scored. The gang cursed and groaned at the goal, Steve slamming his hand on the couch arm which made Kaylee jump a little as she sat timidly in the seat across from him, her hands in her lap and her body rigid. She didn’t like hanging around with the guys, mostly because they were annoying and made her just as nervous as Bucky did. But he had ordered her to stay tonight so she didn’t have much choice.

“Get us beer kid” Steve ordered her, and Kaylee glared over at him from her side.

“Can’t you get it yourself” she replied, careful with her tone. Even though Bucky was in charge, the others still had authority, even over her and the last thing she wanted was Bucky lecturing her on respect and obedience.

“Your closer” Steve grumbled, and Kaylee sighed, standing up and dragging herself to the kitchen. She knew she wasn’t going to win this fight and she didn’t want an argument in front of everyone. It was better to save her the embarrassment and humiliation to get up and just get the beer for him rather than argue and have him rip into her. But it didn’t mean she liked it one bit.

She pulled a bottle of cold beer from the fridge, slamming it on purpose to release her anger. She never liked Steve; from the moment she met him she knew he was a dick. He’s arrogant, smug and being Bucky's second in command only boosted his ego. She hated how he still called her kid. She’s 22 years old now, not some kid in high school still.

Kaylee’s dream would be to tell him everything she hated about him, how he’s a smug little bastard and a prick and nothing would happen to her.

She popped the cap open and threw it in the bin and her attention was called to the soft patter of little paws on the kitchen floor. She turned and was greeted by Alpine, Bucky's cat. Someone else she wasn’t too fond of and vice versa. He was a fluffy white cat, a bushy tail, and bright blue eyes just like his owner and the same amount of smugness as Steve. Kaylee was certain he didn’t like her; he always gave her that evil stare every time he encountered her. Even Alpine gets more freedom than her. He’d often be wondering the mansion or sleeping in Bucky's office or bedroom. You wouldn’t think an intimidating and powerful man like James Bucky Barnes would own a white fluffy cat and call it Alpine.

Alpine slinked past her, having no regard for Kaylee standing there and trotted into the living room, probably stealing her seat as well. Kaylee followed shortly after, entering the living room, and of course seeing Alpine in her seat. She groaned to herself softly before handing Steve his beer. No thank you from him, just a huge gulp and a loud burp was all he responded with. Looking to the couch, there was only one seat available which was in-between Steve and Alpine. All the other seats were taken, and it looked like that was her only choice. Kaylee sunk in the middle, awkwardly sitting and boredly watching the game with the others. She wasn’t very much into football but there was no way the guys would let her pick what channel. Steve stunk of cigarettes and beer and Kaylee couldn’t breathe whilst sat next to him but tried to ignore the horrible odour.

“Who’s winning?” Bucky's voice came from behind her as he stood behind the couch, leaning on the top.

“Miami, we’re fucking shit” grumbled Steve and Bucky chuckled softly, reaching over, and giving Alpine a little scratch on his head, a gentle purr erupting. Kaylee suddenly felt him loom over her as he leaned down, his lips pressing against her ear as he whispered.

“Come to bed” he nuzzled his nose along her ear as he stood up and strolled out of the living room. It was an order, one she couldn’t refuse, after all she made a deal with him. She had done since she was eighteen, that she would be at his service, whenever and wherever he called upon her to be. It wasn’t normal for her to stay on the weekdays. When Kaylee entered collage, Bucky made a deal with her that she was allowed to live in an apartment during the week to focus on her studies but at the weekend she stayed with him. It was all part of his ownership of her. When Bucky wanted something, he’d get it and when he wanted Kaylee, He would have her. Normally she would head home after the meeting and throw herself into bed, but an order was an order, and she couldn’t argue with him.

To be completely honest however, Kaylee was a little thankful he asked her to come to bed. Now she wouldn’t have to sit here and watch the game awkwardly with the rest of the guys and she could finally get away from Steve and his disgusting smell. Kaylee followed behind in pursuit, letting Bucky lead her upstairs to his bedroom. He walked with power and stride and pushed open the doors to his bedroom, entering first.

His bedroom was huge. Dark carpet with light walls and warm light fixtures fitted in the ceiling with a fancy switch that was touch screen. There was a giant flat screen TV placed in the wall with a furniture unit of cupboards underneath and small pieces of décor on the sides. The king size bed was opposite the wall with the TV, dark covers and pillows and a runner over the top with a footstool at the foot of the bed, silky satin grey with gold legs. There was a small couch over in the corner and a plush chair in the other with a footstool in the middle. He had a walk-in wardrobe with hundreds of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, trousers, and underwear, all neatly hung up in the wardrobe. His underwear and collection of ties were neatly folded in the draws that opened with a wave of his hand and in a cabinet of glass were his collection of watches. The curtains were remote controlled.

His ensuite was just as big. The mid toned brown worked well with the cream tiles and warm lights fitted along the floor and edges of the walls. A huge mirror covered half the wall beside the square basin and his toothbrush, razor and comb were all neatly aligned. The white ceramic tub was against the opposite wall, long and could easily fit two people inside. The wet room shower was next to it with a large round shower head and frosted glass door. A long shelving unit held fluffy towels and flannels and a black robe hung on the back of the door. The man sure did know his style.

Kaylee entered last in the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and standing there as Bucky walked further. He unclipped his watch, throwing it on the side and letting it clatter loudly. Bucky began to undress, unbuttoning his jacket and ripping it off to place it over one of the chairs which he then noticed Kaylee was still stood by the door.

“Well, come over then” he ordered softly, slightly smirking as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his black shirt. Kaylee pushed herself off the door, sucking in a breath as she waddled over to him, her cheeks flushing a bright pink and her hands turning clammy. Bucky was so intimidating despite her knowing him for five years now. Even just the way he looked at her with those dark eyes of his, the blue sparkling under the lights and that famous smirk of his, could send Kaylee to her knees without even having to say anything. which is probably what Bucky was going to ask of her now.

When she reached him though, he turned to face her, standing tall and towering over her, almost casting a shadow. Bucky took a deep breath in pleasure, looking her up and down. She was a beautiful girl. Blue eyes like his, long blonde hair with fluffy bangs, perfect lips, and a slender nose. Her scent was sweet and her shy little personability and nature made her innocent and submissive, exactly what Bucky wanted and liked.

Bucky cupped her face in his large hands, fingers curling behind her ear as he kissed her hard, breathing deeply as he did. Kaylee closed her eyes, falling into the kiss as his tongue just poked through their lips, taking control. His lips were perfect and soft, and Kaylee couldn’t help but feel that tingle in her body every time he kissed her. It was an automatic response despite her being intimidated by him. He was a good kisser. The way he took over her lips and swirled his tongue inside her mouth made her shivering and weak. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, pulling it away again and letting it ping back before hovering over her lips with his. Kaylee breathed softly, looking up at him from her lashes.

Suddenly, he pushed her back, his hands shoving her shoulders firmly so that she landed on the bed with a gasp, the mattress bouncing and squeaking as her body landed harshly. Her stomach instantly rolled with the quickness of being thrown to the bed. Her hair was splayed on the bed, all messy and her cheeks flushed even brighter. Bucky climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his heavy body weighing her down. He smirked darkly as he ripped his tie from his neck, grabbing her hands and tying it around her wrists. He pulled the end tightly and reached to the headboard to tie the end there, keeping her arms above her head.

Kaylee breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with a shudder. Bucky leaned his head down as if he was about to kiss her but missed, teasing her as he moved down her body, unzipping her jeans and yanking them off, showing off her beautiful legs. Although the bedroom was warm, the sudden exposure of her legs in the air left her shivering and Bucky reached for her panties, ripping them off. Kaylee squirmed on the bed, her hands twisting in the tie and fingers sliding over the length for some grip.

Kaylee thought he was going to climb back over her but instead her twisted her round so she laid flat on her stomach, surprising her as he climbed over again and this time spanked her harshly, his hand slapping her bare ass and the sound echoing in his bedroom. Kaylee squealed in shock, yanking at the tie, and felt him chuckle as he leaned down to her ear.

“That’s for turning up late” he whispered and ran his lips over her ear lobe, teeth grazing softly to her jaw where she let out a soft moan.

Bucky dragged his fingers over her body, pulling her top over her back to expose her skin. He unclipped her bra with ease, moaning softly as he ran his warm hand over her skin, down to her backbone and over her ass. Kaylee flinched at the soft tickles he was laying upon her with the teasing of his fingers, his soft chuckle entering afterwards as he watched her react to his touch.

His weight moved from her and behind her was a clatter of belt buckles, trousers, shirt, and shoes. Kaylee was about to turn and look over her shoulder when suddenly she was pulled into a kneeling position, her ass in the air presenting for Bucky. Her body turned warm now with tingles running through her body to her sweet spot and she held back the moan threatening to escape. Bucky climbed back on the bed, kneeling behind her as he reached under and pressed his hand to her pussy, cupping it and running his fingers over her clit. Kaylee gasped and buried her head in her arms, the pleasure slowly taking over her body.

“Tell me who you belong to” Bucky ordered, lining himself up with her.

“You Sir” she mumbled in her arms, but Bucky was quick to reprimand her with a spank, the coldness of his ring touching her skin and she lifted her head as she groaned. There was a sting where he spanked her, the area starting to tingle and feel hot.

“I can’t hear you?” he scolded.

“You Sir” she breathed, and he smirked.

“That’s right, you’re all mine” he growled with possessiveness and gripped her hips tightly as he thrusted inside her, pushing himself deep into her pussy and began to fuck her. He flicked his hips back and forth, fingers gripping her hips tightly and beginning to leave little red marks from the pressure. Kaylee breathed deeply, feeling the pleasure rise inside her, her pussy twitching and tingling as he took her body, spreading ownership and control over her. She pressed her head on her arms again, her body being taken over by the possessive and hungry man behind her.

Bucky groaned, throwing his head back as he thrusted himself into her, skin to skin slapping loudly and in a rhyme. Kaylee bit her lip tightly, tasting blood on the tip of her tongue as she tried to hold back the pleasurable moans but sooner or later, they would escape, unable to hold back.

Her pussy was starting to tingle now, the feeling of an orgasm brewing deep inside her and sweat now covering her skin, shining under the light. Bucky's hair had fallen from his neat, combed style to pieces falling in front of his face, sweat dripping from his head and his body warm and clammy. Kaylee let out a moan, unable to hold it back and Bucky grinned behind her, seeing how hot and bothered she was getting. He knew her like the back of his hand, he knew how to make her feel good, what her tender and sweet spots where, the ones that sent those tingles through her and made her pussy wet. After all she was his property and what good is it owning something if you don’t know how to use it.

Bucky leaned over her body; lips placed to her ear again as she raised her head from her arms.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” he whispered as he thrusted her still, one hand, gripping her hair and the other pressing on her shoulder blades,

“Yes Sir” she whispered back, almost breathless.

“You belong to me and only me” he growled, his throat humming and his voice husky and sexy.

“Yes” she breathed again, eyes closing as she fell into a pleasure cloud, her hearing turning slightly muffled.

“You’re not going to turn up late again, are you?” he teased. Although he told her he was going to let her off, that didn’t mean he was going to let her get away without understanding the rules.

“No Sir, I won’t turn up late”.

“Good because you know if you do, I’ll have to punish you” he licked her ear, his tongue leaving a sloppy wet trail. He slammed into her a few times, pushing himself as deep as he could. Kaylee moaned, quivering and quaking under his body as she knew she was going to reach her climax. But she knew she couldn’t unless she asked.

“Please” she squeaked, and Bucky smirked.

“Please what?” he said softly.

“Please can I cum” she begged, her toes curling tightly.

“You want to cum?” he teased, and she nodded fast. Her legs were turning numb, and she felt her pussy quickly building to the top of her orgasm.

“Yes, please Sir” she huffed, praying he would let her. there were times he didn’t let her cum, being cruel and teasing and she hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those times. His hand reached under, rubbing her clit fast and Kaylee moaned loudly, not even caring if everyone downstairs could hear her. She was lost in pleasurable bliss. Bucky groaned hard, as if he was reaching his own climax and his breathing intensified.

“Fuck” he groaned and a few more quick thrusts, he was coming inside her.

“You can cum” he breathed, gritting his teeth together and throwing his head back as Kaylee came over his dick, pussy clenching and releasing her climax. She buried her head in her arms once again, one to hide her pleasure and two to moan as loud as she could. Her legs were floppy, and they fell from their kneeling position as she dropped into the mattress, Bucky still buried inside her. Her orgasm was a short one but intense and she felt tired, as if it took all the energy out of her.

Bucky caught his breath, running a hand through his messy locks and brushing them out of the way. The tie around her wrists had tightened as she pulled against it, her wrists turning red from the tightness of the silk, but she didn’t care at this point. She was too tired to even think. Bucky ran his hands over her body again. Climbing up to her face where he placed a sloppy kiss to her cheek, running his nose along the side of her face.

“Good girl” he praised and collapsed on top of her.

Kaylee woke that morning, snuggled in the giant bed of fluffy duvets and pillows along with a heavy arm wrapped around her body, a hand trapping her hand to the bed. Bucky slept soundly behind her, snoring lightly. His body was cosy and warm, his leg wrapped over her, keeping her captive to him and the bed. Kaylee tiredly looked to the clock on the bedside table, seeing it was only seven in the morning. She had school this morning but her first lecture was at ten, so she had time.

Bucky was heavy behind her, and she could barely move from underneath him. His cologne still lingered on him, and he smelt heavenly, his scent intoxicating. Kaylee’s body was sore. Bucky could be very rough at times, and he certainly liked to take control. The guy defiantly knew how to have sex and how to make a woman moan. He certainty knew how to make Kaylee moan and which buttons to press to make her feel all sorts of things she never felt before.

Their fuck really did take it out of her last night and if she could, she’d fall back to sleep right now. But she had to get up and get ready for school soon and most likely Bucky would be waking as well. He was always an early bird. Kaylee moved to slip out from under his arm, trying to not wake him and as she did, she felt her bladder full, and she desperately needed the toilet. She reached for his wrist to move his arm over her, hoping to keep him asleep but as she did, he groaned softly, tightening his hold on her, and nuzzling the back of her head, breathing deeply into her messy hair.

“Don’t” he whispered. He didn’t want to move, and Kaylee turned over her shoulder, looking at him with tired but big eyes.

“I need the bathroom” she squeaked, and Bucky chuckled softly, slowly opening his eyes to meet hers.

“Alright” he released her from his hold, turning onto his back and relaxing in to pillow. Kaylee pulled the duvet back and was hit with the wave of cold air and immediately wanted to snuggle back under the heatwave under the duvet but forced herself to pad to the bathroom. Bucky couldn’t help watching her body swagger into the bathroom, taking in the beautiful sight of her nakedness in front of him. He’d go for round two, but he knew Kaylee was probably exhausted from last night’s round.

In the bathroom, Kaylee brushed her teeth and used the toilet, washing her face of the sweat and grime plastered all over, feeling refreshed as the cold water splashed her. she heard Bucky talking lowly outside the bathroom, most probably on the phone. She took a minute to look at herself in the mirror and noticed her body was slightly bruised from Bucky grip last night and her ass blotchy from his hand. His mark had been left on her and she sighed a little. She should be used to that by now but most of the time she’d just forgot.

She finished off by washing her hands and slipped back into the bedroom, spotting him on the phone with Alpine in his lap, stroking him slowly and softly.

‘How the fuck did he get in here?’ she wondered. That cat would just pop out of nowhere. He saw Kaylee standing at the entrance to the bathroom and narrowed his eyes at her, as if he was glaring at her. But then a scratch to his head sent him purring and closing his eyes, falling to pleasure from his owner’s fingers.

Bucky hung up the phone and threw it on the side, looking back to Kaylee.

“What time is your first lecture?” he asked, running his hand over Alpine’s body as he sat happily in his lap. He was like that James Bond villain, stroking his precious white cat.

“Ten” she answered, her voice a little uneasy.

“I need you to do something for me” Bucky said, slipping out of the bed as he placed Alpine on the floor, his trotting past quickly to take comfort on the couch. He padded to the dirty laundry bin and pulled out a bunch of white shirts, crumpled in a big messy pile and handed them to Kaylee. As she looked down, she noticed one was covered in blood and she grimaced at it.

“Can you take these to the dry cleaners, you can take it to Michael’s” he asked. She couldn’t exactly say no but it was a simple job.

“Oh, um sure” she nodded, and Bucky smiled, pecking her forehead before padding into the bathroom and a few seconds later the shower turned on, the rain of water sounding behind the door. Kaylee dumped the shirts on the floor and shivered. Just looking at the blood on them made her feel queasy but that was what came with being in the mafia. Kaylee knew about everything they did. Bucky must have killed at least a hundred people, maybe even more. she was sworn to secrecy and if she ever told anyone, Bucky would never let her forget it. But she wouldn’t tell anyone. She could never risk it. Besides, she wasn’t involved in their crimes, she just worked alongside them.

After getting dressed, Kaylee dumped the shirts into a bag to take to the dry cleaners. Michaels was a local dry cleaner that Bucky and his gang had used for years. He was a friendly guy, came from China many years ago and Bucky had pretty much given him a bribe to do all their laundry in situations like this and he took it. He knew Kaylee as she had been there several times for him and didn’t even bat an eyelid at the bloodied clothing, they would bring in.

Downstairs Steve was in the kitchen, dressed only in his boxers and mixing a cup of coffee. He looked as Kaylee shuffled in the kitchen, hoping to catch a bite to eat before heading off and he grinned at her, but not in a kind way, more of a sarcastic smug way.

“Morning kid” he said, and Kaylee rolled her eyes behind his back.

“You know I’m 22” she groaned, and he laughed.

“I know I just like winding you up” he sipped his coffee.

“Good fuck last night” he asked, and Kaylee blushed. So, they defiantly heard her last night. she didn’t answer and took one of the bright red apples out of the wood fruit bowl and started to cut it up.

“Oh, come on, you can tell me, we’re all friends here” he elbowed her, and Kaylee glared at him but averted her eyes away, keeping herself from screaming at him. Bucky won’t like that.

“It’s none of your business” she murmured, and he chuckled.

“Your right, I’m sorry, it’s not my place” he held his hands up defensively and Kaylee relaxed. He was probably being sarcastic but right now she couldn’t be bothered to argue and play his stupid games. She munched on her apple, the segments juicy and crunching in her mouth.

“What is?” Bucky asked as he sauntered into the kitchen. He was dressed in a suit black and a grey shirt with a striped tie underneath. His pants were tightly fitted to his legs and perfect polished shoes on his feet, a new watch on his wrist and of course his thumb ring. He smelled freshly showered and rich; his face clean shaven. He took the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup, sipping it and licking his lips of it as he looked to Steve.

“Nothing Buck, Zemo called, he wants to talk to you about Saturday”.

“I’ll call him later, I need you and Sam to go over to that guy we loaned to, he still hasn’t payed” Bucky casually leaned on the counter.

“How much?”.

“$30,000, he said he’ll get it to us this month but haven’t got it yet” Steve grinned and nodded.

“Sure, I can do that” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as Steve pushed himself off the table he was leaning on, padding out the kitchen.

“See ya kid” he called to Kaylee who wanted to groan and throw a piece of apple at him, but she kept quiet as Bucky stood right there. He reached over and stole a piece of apple, throwing it in his mouth and crunching loudly.

“Do you want me to pick up your laundry when it’s done?” she asked softly. He didn’t say she should before, but she offered anyway.

“Yeah, that would great” he smiled, and she nodded slowly.

“Okay” she whispered and turned to her plate. She felt him stand behind her, placing his hands on her arms and rubbing softly.

“Don’t let him get to you” he said, and Kaylee looked over her shoulder at him, slightly smiling as he knew Steve annoyed her. She softly laughed under her breath.

“I’ll try” she whispered. Bucky wasn’t always intimidating to her though. There were times like right now where he was sweet and caring and almost protective of her.

Bucky smiled gently before placing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Have a good day” he whispered and took the last piece of her apple, collecting his coffee and leaving the kitchen. Kaylee sighed as she watched him leave and touched her cheek where he kissed her, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. She grabbed the dirty laundry and her bag, ready to start her day.

Chapter 3

Hey so I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments and if you want to be tagged

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#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #dom bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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meshlasolus · 2 years

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Who Are You Really (4)

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader

A/n: for those of you who saw this coming ahead of time, congrats, for those of you who didnt... the reader's character is based very loosely off of felicia hardy from the comics. Also thank you guys again for all the wonderful support you've given me. I'm so grateful for it all!

Playlist can be found here

Warnings: ⚠️No Way Home spoilers⚠️ mild angst, flirting, canon typical dialogue

Your apartment was mostly quiet, save for the rummaging through old suitcases and boxes to find your suit. You hated it, the way it looked on you, the suggestions it made without a single word spoken. The cheesy name it had given you without any say on your behalf was also quite annoying. Black Cat. Very original.

You got to the last box, and didn't find it... but then you looked to the top of your closet, finding an oversized shoebox with tape over the sides to keep it closed. This box had demons inside. You were not fond of them, but you had one last mission to accomplish. Maybe if it went well you'd try a few more.

You ripped the suit out, changing into every piece with expert speed. The last piece was the mask, the little domino piece that when activated, turned your eyes white as snow. The only real concealment to your identity.

You ripped the tape up, opening the lid of the box and revealing the black kevlar suit, with silver embellishments and wrist cuffs. The gloves that were attached made you smile. You did remember what they could do, and you missed it. You secretly yearned for the adrenaline you used to have. It was so riveting, to go out and risk your life, but all for the greater good. You used to earn headlines, of course they were never the front page like Spider-Man... but they were something to show for your time to the city.

You pressed it to your brow and let turned it on, letting the mask itself do the rest. You pulled on the gloves and tested their abilities, hoping everything was still in working order. The press of a button on your cuff sent the claw like hooks out from your fingertips. You were beginning to realize that maybe 'black cat' wasn't so absurd after all.

You didn't have any time to dally, or reminisce in old memories. You didn't even spare yourself a look in the mirror. You grabbed your phone, syncing the connection to your suit and placing it in the containment unit on your lower back. You were treading into unknown dangers, and the skill level that was needed was not what you obtained over the years. You were sure it was the most dangerous test of your life and for that all you had to blame was yourself. For getting into this, for wanting to help the Peter you met, and the one you already knew. You were suddenly willing to put your life on the line for someone you barely knew, and it killed you that you'd become so obligated to assist his every move.

You walked into the living room, finding Peter all decked out in his suit. You liked it a lot compared to the one you saw everyday. It was a good change. Showed his athletic build very well.

When he actually saw you, he had to do a double take. You were dressed to the part of a hero, and you looked... amazing. He couldn't take his eyes way, thankful for his mask to help hide that fact.

"I didn't think that-" he shook his head, starting over because he didn't like his choice of words "you just look like..."

"Like I should be going to an eight year old's birthday party? I know," you chuckled, going to your window and opening it. You secured yourself to a hidden cable that was somehow built into the sill, ready to deploy at any moment. "You coming?"

"Right, yeah," he sputtered, coming after you when you dropped to the alley beneath you. It was like old days, but now you had an accomplice. You would even dare to call him your partner in this situation, although you'd gladly take the roll of sidekick.

Once in the alley, you looked around to make sure the coast was clear.

"Hey, I was wondering," Peter jogged up behind you, "what should I call you? Like what's your name when you... you know,"

You scoffed, shaking your head, but telling him anyway. It couldn't hurt.

"Just call me Cat," you said, raising your hand and flashing him your claws. Absolutely lethal. "Or literally anything else. I'm really not fond of the nickname the city gave me."

"I can't think of anything," he admitted, walking with you around the next corner to check and make sure no unwanted onlookers were lurking in the vicinity.

"Cat's fine," you tapped the pad on your back, activating your phone to find out where you were headed.

"Hey Siri, can you show me all local news from within the last hour?"

A billion tabs popped up in your mask, and you couldn't tell which one to start with first. It seemed like the legion of escaped Monsters had found a way to spread to literally every corner of the city without leaving a shred of evidence as to where they would be next.

"Hey, uh... Cat?"

You turned around, seeing an orange portal opened up in the middle of the alley. You knew the two kids on the other side.

"Hey Peter!" They yelled, by far catching both your attention. You dropped your jaw just a little bit, unsure of how Ned Leeds from physics was somehow able to open a magic portal.

"You know them?"

"Yeah, they go to my school. They might know where Peter is," you said, pushing him forward. He ran through first, you landing not long after. The sounds of Ned's mother screaming were the only thing that echoed when you landed.

"No no no, it's okay, I'm a nice guy!"

Ned's mother threw a pillow at Peter's head, and then he took off his mask to show his face. Ned and MJ immediately tensed up.

"Who the hell are you?" MJ pointed at his face. This was pretty much the same reaction you had yesterday.

"I'm Peter Parker," he paused, both Ned and MJ denied it right away, because of course they did. This was clearly not Peter Parker to them. "I am Spider-Man, from my world."

"He got here yesterday when all the monsters started showing up," you quoted the news, unsure of who the actual people were. They both turned to you with their arms up for a fight... you figured you should make it known that you were not in fact a stranger to them.

You popped your mask off for a moment, showing them your face, to which they immediately responded by dropping their hands.

"Oh hey Y/n," Ned smiled and waved, disreguarding the fact that you were standing in his kitchen dressed at a cat.

"Hey Ned, MJ," you waved back with a thin lip smile. Peter was so enthralled by the portal he just jumped through, looking it over with fascination.

"So... string theory, multidimensional reality, and matter displacement," he listed the terms like he'd been studying them all his life. Maybe not that long, but several months were dedicated to these theories, "all real?"

Ned and MJ nodded, and kept looking over him as if he were an alien. Technically, by definition, he was an alien. A being not of this earth, or even this reality.

"I knew it," he smiled, looking around some more while Ned and MJ whispered what you assumed was an arguement.

You examined the magic portal you'd both popped through, running your fingers along the sparks to see if they would burn like fire. They didn't burn, but they did instill a tingling sensation in your hands. Interesting.

You totally disreguarded the conversation happening behind you, too overwhelmed by the magic before you. You knew magic existed here, everyone did. There were so many heroes that possessed those abilities and were able to save people using them. You'd just never seen the proof of it before now.

The portal closed fast, causing you to whip your hand out before it got chopped off... or whatever would happen if you left your arm there, because you really didn't know.

When you looked up, Peter was suddenly on the ceiling, grabbing a cobweb from the corner to appease Ned's mother. He hopped down, arms spread to his side as if proving his point to your fellow colleagues. You laughed at the gesture, eblowing him in the arm to get his attention.

"He cooks, and he cleans," you teased, earning a roll of his eyes and... is that a blush?

You turned around and saw Ned spinning his hand, trying to open another portal no doubt. Apparently they were already trying to find Peter before you got here.

"He's doing the Doctor Strange thing," you whispered to Peter, as if he had any idea what you wete talking about.

"Doctor who?" He asked seriously, but you couldn't help but crack a laugh. The irony. 'I understood that reference.'

"He's a super hero from around here."

Ned finally managed to open another hole of time and space, right behind the kitchen table. Out stepped a regular looking guy... wait a minute, that's not Spider-Man. Unless-

After a quick exchange, there came a bout of webs shooting across the room, and Peter - your Peter - flipped up on top of the counter, knocking about the light fixture that hung over it.

So, the average Joe is Spider-Man after all... funny, you didn't notice he was wearing any web shooters like the other two normally did.

"I hate to break up the party, but we still haven't found the right Peter yet," you stepped forward, helping your Peter clean all the webs from off the counter.

"She's right, ever since I got here, I've had this feeling that he needs my help," the new Peter said. He looked so much older than the other two, but perhaps again it had to do with the timelines of which he came out of.

"Our help."

The only problem now was finding the right Peter. You had no way to contact him, as you assumed he'd probably turned off his phone long ago. If that was a viable option, his friends would have tried that by now.

The new Peter suggested an idea, of which everyone eleborated on before MJ finally was able to decide on a place. The school rooftop. It was a private and closed off area that he could be alone to contemplate.

With the decision made, Ned picked up his magic ring, and began to spin another portal.

@4-everm-0-re @violetrainbow412-blog @willowpains @sapnapsbandana @chscklvr @hehehehannahthings @marimorena06 @slasherbucky @mrs-obrien @caitlyn221b @leah-bobeea @turningtoclown @mintbunbun @truelydeathherself @thxtmarvelchick @lunak @ancailinaerach @dangerdolns @mads-weasley @little-precious-baby @imay4bank @tinktohispan @buckycuddles @stoatwashere @blackanblue @nikt-wazny-y @thottio @glytchfic @navs-bhat @taina-eny @parker-natasha @yuujichan @tinker-hell @ardepy @the-little-book-princess05 @nobody7102

This parts a little shorter, but the next two are gonna be hello long so that's why.... also i think maybe two or three more chapters will wrap this one up, maybe a sequel will be requested 👀

TAGS:

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x platonic!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman no way home #spiderman #no way home

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

hi I saw your requests were open if there not anymore you can completely ignore this :). but could you do a boyfriend!peter x reader where he loves it when reader gives him those little kisses on his nose and freckles with head scratches please. feel free to change or completely ignore this <3

thousands of tiny stars

pretend i haven’t used this

warnings: a couple suggestive jokes but the rest is just floofy fluff

a/n: i got carried away as per usual and i did end up changing it a tiny bit :/ emphasis on tiny tho lmfhsjfh you’ll see ! either way i hope you enjoy mwah

one thing about peter is that he absolutely can’t sit still under any given circumstances. he’s restless, like a burning ball of energy that’s brightness never dims.

because of this, he tries to and needs to keep himself occupied and be kept occupied every second of every day.

it’s sometimes playing with his fingers or your own, which peter prefers because he gets to hold your hand. other times, it’s tapping his favorite pink glitter pen relentlessly against the kitchen table while he conjures up homework answers.

aunt may isn’t very fond of that one.

this time, it’s constantly shuffling about the couch in the name of finding comfort.

peter starts off with an arm around your shoulders and a content grin on his face. you two agreed on mean girls for the first movie of your marathon, your head resting against peter’s chest as the tv steals your attention.

a few minutes in, peter decides he feels like being held rather than holding you. he sneaks his way down your body, lets himself nudge your thighs to wordlessly communicate what he wants. you of course oblige and switch positions accordingly.

peter lays his head in your lap, taking the opportunity to stare up at you instead of at the screen.

he finds himself shifting around again not too much later. now laying on the couch’s armrest on his side, he kicks his feet into your lap where his head just was.

you’re becoming slightly annoyed with his fidgeting. his explanations of sorry, just trying to get comfortable and innocent smiles are what stop you from complaining.

“that’s strike three, parker,” you joke, eyes leaving the movie to fix on him. peter crosses his arms over his chest. “i dunno what you’re talking about, y/l/n,” he insists. “i haven’t done anything remotely strike-worthy so far this evening.”

flicking his sock clad foot, you mutter your response. “debatable.” peter dismisses you with a huff. “whatever. c’mere… i miss you.” he makes grabby hands for you, like the big baby he is.

it’s quite endearing, though.

“i’m right here, pete,” you laugh out and return your gaze to mean girls. “and yet, you’re so far,” peter counters. “come gimme cuddles.”

you sigh lightheartedly, your ever so clingy boyfriend still reaching out for you. a smirk pulls at your lips.

“well, there’s an offer i can’t refuse.”

peter adjusts so he’s sitting criss cross, bouncing excitedly in his spot. his chocolate brown curls fall in all directions, form being swallowed by an oversized stark industries hoodie that he keeps having to roll up the sleeves of.

he looks so soft and snuggly in anticipation of your cuddle session. you can’t believe you were ever annoyed at him.

slightly annoyed.

he’s so eager that when you scoot the tiniest bit towards him, he literally pulls you into his lap. peter’s arms hug you around your lower back, you laughing quietly as he peppers a trail of kisses from your cheek to the side of your neck.

the movie long forgotten about, you wind your arms around his neck and tilt your chin up.

“pete?” you breathe out. peter pecks your cheek once more, then your other, beaming. “yeah, babe?” he wonders. with a half serious half teasing glare, you wonder, “are you comfy now?”

peter ponders your question, and from the skeptical furrowing of his eyebrows and biting of his lip, you have your answer. he’s about to make you regret asking.

it seems that as soon as you settle, peter gets antsy.

“uh, actually…” he strokes his thumb along the underside of your chin, smiling apologetically. “you mind if we lie down? ‘m kinda tired.” there it is. you roll your eyes. “how could you not be? you’ve been playing musical chairs all night.”

your words earn a chuckle from peter, though they’re at his expense. “this’ll be the last round, promise,” peter swears and seals the deal with a kiss to your chin, which is currently grasped between his fingers.

you know it won’t be. the game goes on forever with peter, unless you end it yourself.

“damn right, bug boy. move another inch after this and you can consider your cuddle privileges revoked,” you grumble, getting off of peter’s lap. he stares at you in pure horror, gasping. “you wouldn’t…” “i would,” you correct him.

not aiming to test that theory, peter quickly fumbles around and lays flat against the cushions. he wills himself to be stiff as a board. you seem satisfied with that, climbing on top of him with your face hovering above his.

peter sets his hands on your hips, grip strong. he closes the space between you both with a short kiss. you reciprocate and deepen it, turning short to long as your parted lips slot with his. his tongue darts out, already skimming over your bottom lip for more access.

you hum into his mouth and allow his tongue to slide in. peter kisses you so tenderly as he rubs circles on your hips, your fingers tangling in his locks simultaneously. you weave them up to his roots, using your nails to gently scratch at his scalp just the way he likes. he breaks the kiss to let out a noise close to a moan.

“that- that… oh, god yeah,” peter praises, his eyes fluttering closed. you’re amused at how easily pleased he is. “don’t cream your pants yet, pete. i’m just getting started,” you purr. peter squeezes your hips in response. “feels better than an orgasm, babe. i’m serious, too,” he murmurs.

you continue your handiwork in his hair and lean in for another kiss. peter merely pecks your lips before jerking away.

“wait, hold that thought,” he exhales a breathy laugh. “i gotta pee.”

he has to be kidding. again with this?

“oh no, you don’t,” you deadpan, pushing against his shoulders to hold him down. “oh yes, i do,” peter retorts. “let me go, y/n/n.”

peter could definitely slither out from underneath you if he truly wanted to. he has super strength, so the might of his teenage girlfriend doesn’t quite compare.

pinning him in place, you straddle his waist. “nope, you’re gonna stay. i’m not giving you a choice in the matter.” peter attempts to pry you off of him, but you won’t budge. “y/n, my bladder is gonna explode-“

he cuts himself off with a giggle when your lips begin to attack him. you kiss down the bridge of his nose lightly, peck each freckle dotting his skin, and the amount of them is infinite. peter’s fit of giggles continues as you smooch that pretty face of his, his cheeks dusted pink and hands coming up to support you by your sides.

he’s always been a little insecure about his freckles. they don’t suit him, there are too many of them, blah blah blah. you obviously couldn’t disagree more. you think they’re sick.

you’d once even told him they look like thousands of tiny stars, and peter does love stars. he also loves the kisses you tend to randomly surprise him with to remind him to appreciate his freckles the same way you do.

“okay, okay! i’ll stay!” peter concedes, you ruffling his hair and pressing a final kiss to the tip of his nose. he grins despite himself, and secretly wishes you wouldn’t stop. “but, if my kidneys fail… it’s on you.”

you pat his chest definitively.

“good thing you’re a fast healer.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #peter parker au #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

Text

Nicknames

A/N: I didn’t include all actors/characters but if you want one just send it in and I’ll do it. I’ll start including these in my writing

~~~~~~

Here are some nicknames that each of the reader’s have been given

Sebastian Stan “prinţesă”

-Obviously, its Romanian

-There were a few he tried out with you when you were younger but this one stuck for multiple reasons:

-You were a major daddy’s girl (still are) and you pretty much got anything you wanted. You were almost on the verge of spoiled brat

-It also didn’t help that you had a very huge liking for Disney and it’s princesses

-Those dresses with the matching shoes? You had almost all of them

-He called you that until you grew out of your princess obsession, saving it for certain times

-The first time you ended a long term friendship was the first time he used it in years. He’d either call you by your name or something more generic like “Sweetheart”

-You came home visibly upset and ran right into your dad’s arms

-You’d never been this upset before so he said it, hoping in some way it would calm you down

“It’s alright Prinţesă, I’ve got you”

-When it worked that time, he did it again after your first break up.

-You were more angry than sad this time

-He had to hold you down on the couch so you couldn’t hurt anyone

“Prinţesă, calm down. He’s not worth a criminal record

-He used it on days when you were sick or were feeling down

-Maybe even if you were in trouble

-You and him both thought by the age of sixteen, you would hate the nickname but surprisingly, you liked it even more

Chris Evans “peanut”

-Another case of daddy’s girl

-This one comes from several trips to Red Sox’s games

-Chris wanted to get you into sports when you were young (just to watch, not necessarily to play)

-He took you and Scott to one of the first games of the season and he bought peanuts, in his true American way

-You were seated in between him and Scott

-Both of them were sharing the bag while you had ice cream

-Peanuts were a new food for you and you wanted to try them. You grabbed a handful of them and copied your dad’s movements to crack open the shells

-You ate like twenty in less than a minute

-You loved them so much and that’s how that name happened

-Unlike the others, Chris uses this name pretty regularly

-You didn’t mind how often he used it until he started using it on front of your friends

“Hey peanut, do you guys need anything?”

“Dad! That’s embarrassing”

-Your face went bright red and for the rest of the day, your friends teased you (in a loving, joking way)

-Chris realized his small mistake and was a little more careful about when he used it

-Scott called you it once and you swear, you never saw your dad move so quickly

“She’s my peanut, not yours. Find your own nickname”

-Anytime he posts a picture of you on Twitter/Instagram, he used that name instead of your own

Matthew Gray Gubler “munchkin”

-Three words

-Wizard. Of. Oz.

-You had a very weird obsession with this movie. It’s almost embarrassing looking back at it now

-By the time you were three, you knew all the words (as best as you could) to all the songs

-Matthew was about to lose his mind because he had the songs in his head as well, twenty-four-seven.

-You would talk and talk about how much you wanted to go to Munchkin land and be a Munchkin

-It also didn’t help that at the time, you were probably close to the same height

-Sadly, as you got older, you and your dad learned you didn’t develop his height

-You were a whopping 5’2 at the age of fifteen

-And the name stuck

-He knew you weren’t super fond of the name but somehow, it always cheered you up

-If you had a tough day at school, he’d sit on the couch and let you vent

“Let it all out Munchkin”

-You secretly did like the name (even though the origins were embarrassing)

-Matthew never let you live down that obsession

-When you were on set and he called you that, everyone asked why.

“Matthew, why do you call her Munchkin?”

“Dad, don’t do it”

“She was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz”

-He also very rarely referred to you as “Y/n” on social media, opting for Munchkin instead

-Trying to get back at him, you tried to come up with some ridiculous name for him

“I’m going to call you dancer. Cause that’s how you broke your knee”

-That one didn’t last long but Munchkin sure did

Tom Holland “bubs or darling”

-Tom gets two because I can’t pick

-Bubs is because you are the baby out of all of the brothers

-It was also because before you could say any brother’s name, you just called them bubs

-Sam, Harry, and Paddy also called you Bubs. They still call you that sometimes so Tom wanted to try something new

-When you were about five or six, he accidentally called you darling

-It wasn’t a typical brother/sister name but it suited you

-You were such a kind person and your favorite movie to watch with Tom was Peter Pan

-And the last name of Wendy was Darling, so he thought it fitted

-When he called you darling, it was mostly after he came home from filming

“I missed you so much Darling”

-You liked the meaning behind your nickname

-Tom used Bubs if you weren’t feeling like yourself

-Whether it was a bad day or if you were sick

“Take some medicine Bubs” or “Bubs, tell me what’s going on”

-He hated the others calling him Tommy but for you, he’d let you do it anytime you wanted

-Literally, you were the only person he let you call him Tommy

-But he was the only person who could call you Darling

Bucky Barnes “doll”

-Classic

-This one is pretty self explanatory

-It was common during your childhood but once you were in the 21st century, Bucky couldn’t part with it

-It reminded him of the past (in a good way) and he always wanted to relive those memories

-You were eight when HYDRA took him and then you

-The name reminded him of when you were little, and it reminded you too

-While Bucky was in Wakanda, he’d send you letters once he woke up

“Hey Doll, I miss you so much. Hopefully we can see each other soon”

-You kept them all with you

-And when The Snap happened, you’d read those letters back to yourself everyday

“The sunset was really pretty today Doll, it reminded me of the ones from when you were little”

-After those five years, that was the first thing he said to you

“I’m glad you’re safe Doll”

-It only took one time for Sam to tease you about it before you threatened to hurt him

“You make fun of it one more time and I swear it’ll be the last”

-Sam didn’t really understand why that name meant so much to you

-Bucky had to explain it to him

-It was really one of the only things you had left of your childhood

-And it was the one thing you could hold onto for the rest of your life

Ransom Drysdale “princess”

-Again, I think this one is self explanatory and obvious

-You’re spoiled, no doubt about it

-The name actually came from Meg

-She was a few years older than you and she was so used to being the only girl in the family

-And now she had to deal with you

-The reason she called you that was pretty stupid in the first place but as an eight year old, it didn’t matter to her

-You had spilled your drink on her by accident and onto her new shoes

-She went red in the face and started screaming in your face. You burst into tears

-You were only four and Ransom had never raised his voice at you. It was a new experience for you

-All the adults came into the room and walked into the scene of Meg screaming and you crying

-Ransom scooped you up and told Meg off

-Of course Joni took her daughter’s side but no one else did, making her mad

“She never gets in trouble. She’s such a princess”

-After that incident, your dad only used that name just to piss everyone off

-Like there was no need for him to but he just did it

“Princess, come here”

-In general, Ransom liked to show you off and the nickname Princess was the best way to do that

-As you got older, he felt weird using it. Meg had finally gotten over herself and everyone accepted the fact that your dad was spoiling you rotten

-You didn’t need a name to show that

-But as you got older, the issues in the family and all the problems started to weigh down on you

-There was so much drama that happened at family dinners, you were completely drained and exhausted once you got home

-Ransom could tell something was up so he reached into his bag of good parenting skills (which he definitely had, which shocked everyone) and called you Princess for the first time in ten years

“Princess, please tell me what’s wrong”

-For some reason, that one name made everything better for you

-Ransom noticed the small improvement in your mood so he kept calling you that on the daily

“How was school today Princess?”

-And in front of the family again

“Princess, it’s time to go”

-This name was literally just used to show the other Thrombey’s that you and your dad were better than them

-Of course though, you didn’t need a nickname to see that

Spencer Reid “squirt”

-Another name based on an obsession

-But this one can be blamed on Garcia

-While Spencer was on a case one time, she was in charge of watching you

-To keep you entertained while at the BAU, she put on Finding Nemo

-That was a mistake

-From that point on, you had a weird fascination with sea turtles, because of Squirt

-Once Spencer got back, you would not shut up about turtles

“Daddy, look what I just read”

-He was glad you found something you were interested in. He sort of hoped you would find something closer to a more “normal” topic but he would never stop you from learning

-Spencer wasn’t sure how the name fell onto you but once it did, he didn’t stop using it

-He generally used it in the apartment with just you and him

“Squirt, can you pick your toys up for me?” or as you were older “Squirt, can you grab those books for me?”

-He used it a lot when you felt stressed and you weren’t telling him

-So whenever he called you that, you knew you might as well tell him

“Tell me what’s going on Squirt”

-It was such a small gesture but it really did help you

-He tried to explain why it probably made you feel better but you weren’t too interested in the science behind it

-The only time he used it in front of the team is when he got back from a case

-You always met him at the BAU (he made sure you were there to greet him)

-You would stand in front of the elevator and wait for the doors to open

-And when they did, you ran into his arms and he wrapped them around your body

“I missed you Squirt”

-The team absolutely adored that nickname but knew to never call you that, unless they wanted an angry Reid on their hands

Emily Prentiss “love”

-To me, Emily just has European vibes and so does this nickname

-Probably because Emily grew up in Europe, she developed this habit of calling you Love

-The parents of her friends growing up used that name

-She sort of just picked up on it, starting when she first held you in the hospital

“Hi Love, I’m your momma”

-It’s such a simple but meaningful name to her

-You were truly the one person she loved the most (even her mom and even Sergio)

-Speaking of, once she brought Sergio home you started calling him that as well

-You were only four and didn’t understand the concept but Emily didn’t stop you

“Hi Wove”

-Emily never used this in front of people unless something was wrong

-As you got older, it was used more as a reassurance for you

-Her “death” was really hard on you and every case, she would check in

-Lots of the time, the phone calls were short and around the other members of the team

“Hi Love, I miss you. The team says hi”

“I miss you too momma”

-Very rarely would she use it in normal, everyday conversation

-If you were visiting the office, sometimes it would slip out

“Hey Love, are you doing your homework?”

-In front of the team, she used names like “baby” or “honey”

-Love was strictly reserved for just you and her

Jennifer Jareau “bug”

-First thing to know

-If anyone besides JJ called you Bug, even Will, she would literally rip their heads off

-This name was super personal to her and she didn’t want the meaning to be ruined

-You had taken after her love and fascination with butterflies

-Except you hadn’t learned the word butterfly so you just called them bugs, hence the nickname

-JJ only called you two things “Y/n” and “Bug”

-Nothing else

-At one point, Will was convinced that she might’ve forgotten your first name because she called you Bug so much

“JJ, she has a first name you know”

“I know, I think Bug fits her better”

-She did attempt to get your name changed, but to be fair, she was drunk when that happened

-She didn’t care that as you got older, the name was a little embarrassing, especially around your friends

“I’ll pick you up at seven Bug”

“Mom! Really? In front of my friends?”

-Your brothers for awhile thought your name was Bug, because she really only called you that at home

“Do you need help with your homework Bug?” or “Bug, can you set the table?”

-You didn’t realize the meaning behind the nickname until she explained it to you

-And once you did, the name meant so much more to you

-Will helped you pick out a matching necklace set of two butterflies

-You gave it to her after a case and she cried, knowing exactly what it’s meaning was

“Thank you Bug, I love it”

-She never took that necklace off, ever

Taglist

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @dudele @kerrswriting @laura-naruto-fan1998 @multifamdomfan12 @aquariuslavenderhoney @rafehogwarts

#x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #x child reader #x sister!reader #sebastian stan #chris evans #mgg #tom holland #bucky barnes #ransom drysdale #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau

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udunie · 2 years

Note

I have to be honest, I wrote this ask before but I’m doubting if I actually sent it so just in case here it is (again)

I saw the love I was getting on your blog and it made me super happy and blushing and grinning and I wanted to share another of my ideas as a little thank you 💖

Omega milk can be very expensive so when Stiles expresses an interest in trying out lactation because he wants to know what his own milk tastes like, Peter takes full advantage of that. Even though Stiles wants to stop lactating again Peter doesn’t allow him to, secretly continuing to give him the shots in his nipples (claiming they’re shots to make him stop lactating, or maybe he gives him some pills) while pretending not to know why the effects wouldn’t stop. Stiles starts to get desperate, because he can’t go to work when he keeps leaking everywhere. So Peter slowly coaxed him into a position where he has to agree to selling his milk. As soon as Peter has him this far, he just starts milking him regularly and thus pressing his body to produce more and more milk. Stiles is barely able to do anything anymore, his nipples hooked up to a machine sucking on them basically 24/7 even when they’re empty and barely anything comes out anymore, his boobs and angry red and hurting so badly from all the slaps, pinches and grabbing Peter does.

-🏺

heyo, dear 🏺!

Yes, I got it, I just didn't have time to post it yesterday, but I was about to do it today, sorry!

Sooo, what if they are living together at the beginning of the pandemic? And Peter is like, well, if we want to try out this lactation thing, there's no better time than now.

So they do, and it's fun. And maybe, Peter is having too much fun. Possibly a lot more fun than Stiles, who has to learn that being milked kind of hurt a bit, and he is not all that fond of the tightness in his tits and a week or two in, he starts to worry that his tits will start to get stretched out permanently...

So Peter, who organized the whole treatment, is forced to lie. And by 'forced' I mean, he chooses to, since he wants to keep his little cow. He tells Stiles that whatever medicine he gave him is a 'three months' treatment, and Stiles could have serious side-effects if he stopped in the middle of it, and he tells stiles it will be fine, they will just make sure to empty his tits often, so he isn't so itchy and tight all the time...

Of course, the more he is milked, the more milk he produces, and it gets to the point where they order a milking machine. Stiles is taking online classes during the pandemic, and they carefully turn his camera 'just so' it doesn't show how he has suction cups attached to his tits under his shirt.

Peter also takes to very methodically always suckle on Stiles' tits when they are having sex, biting and teasing the most when Stiles is coming to condition him a bit more...

Now Peter just has to come up with a plan on what to do when his three months are up...

#prompt box #🏺

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starrybbarnes · 4 years

Text

dancing hearts | [b.b]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: there’s an app that’s all the rage, and Bucky wants no part in it.

Word Count: 1828 (a pretty solid word count, if i do say so myself)

Author’s note: before y’all ask, yes i did made a tiktok one shot. it was like a given. but this one shot is inspired by that trend where you record your s/o looking at you while dancing, and I know that’s something bucky would do. as always, I enjoy the feedback you guys give me ♡

Warnings: centenarian steve doing the savage dance (it’s canon). some tooth-rotting fluff, it’s lowkey sickening. oodles and oodles of fluff, i promise

You knew you shouldn't have succumbed to the pleas of Peter and Shuri. But here you were, downloading an app that rewards people in recording themselves doing funny videos, and dances as well.

At first, you only used tiktok to just watch others, but then you started toying with features. As a SHIELD agent, you would sometimes record videos of you giving tours of the Stark building, and many people enjoyed that content. When your audience found out that you also worked alongside the Avengers, they begged you to find a way to include them in videos.

It was no easy feat. At first, you would just videotape your friends while they’re working out, or if they had the time, a “day in the life of” type of clip, or you would film an occasional prank video, which the viewers would eat up.

The videos that would garner the most views, however, were the dancing videos. Yes, it is true that you got your ‘very serious and adult’ friends to do funny renditions of Savage and Say So. People could not believe that someone as old as Sam can do the splits, but yet, there he was.

Another niche that your fans enjoyed was videos of you teaching the Avengers the popular dances. When you taught Steve the dance to Savage, he had stormed off grumbling how it’s ‘indecent’ and ‘humiliating.’ He did come back to finish the dance, though, and might you add, he did slightly better than you.

From duets with Peter, to breaking out in dance at the gym with Natasha, everyone enjoyed doing the dances with you. All except one.

You always knew Bucky was a serious one, but you have seen him crack a smile or two. And you have seen him shimmy once in a while when you played music in the kitchen. But for some reason, he was not fond of this new trend that was making waves throughout the Avengers compound.

It’s not like you’re secretly recording him or anything. You ask everyone beforehand if they mind being recorded. But it seems like he doesn't want to do it, point blank. Steve says it might be because he’s just not a fan of being the center of attention. Sam thinks it because Bucky’s afraid to admit that he sucks at dancing.

And today was no exception. It was a day off for the Avengers, so you thought this was prime time for some new footage of your friends dancing. You had decided you wanted to teach one of the harder dances, and just make a video out of the many times he might mess up.

You made your way to the kitchen and started to greet everyone. Your eyes landed on Bucky, who was at the kitchen island, eating Pad Thai. You softly said hello, and Bucky looked up. He had a small grin and politely waved hello. He offered his seat next to him, and told you to help yourself to some of his leftovers, which you happily agree to.

Despite ‘hating’ your ‘antics,’ Bucky was more than happy to hang out with you during lunch time. About ninety percent of the time, he’s pretty cold and broody, but the other ten percent he’s a pleasure to be around.

You kind of wished you knew what went on inside his head, simply on the basis that you like him. It’d be nice to know if you liking him was worth it.

As you got your fair share of Pad Thai, you asked him if he wanted to do a video with him. A lot of your audience wanted to see the Winter Soldier in action, busting some moves.

Bucky nodded his head, “it’s not my cup of tea, doll. Why would I do something as ridiculous as that?”

You frowned slightly. “There’s no harm in having a little fun, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t wanna do it.” He then left his seat to the island to go sit at the kitchen table to finish his lunch.

You narrowed your eyes towards Bucky, not caring enough to argue over something small. He’ll come around eventually.

Almost immediately, Steve walked into the kitchen, and your face lit up. You asked him if he was busy. He hesitated while saying no, but it didn’t matter. You told him he was going to take part in a dancing video.

Steve complained slightly, as the other Avengers started cheering him on to do it. You propped your phone against the fruit basket on the island, the camera facing towards the living room and kitchen table, with New York in the background.

You hit record and started guiding Steve along with the song. It was an upbeat song and it wasn’t long that he started to get the hang of it. Recording took no longer than 20 minutes, but you quickly got to editing the video. Once done, you posted it, excited to see your followers’ reaction.

You took a quick snack break and decided to see the comments of the video. Everyone loved it: comments ranging from adoration to slightly thirsty for Captain America. You showed the comment section to Steve, and he couldn’t stop cracking up.

Then there was a top comment that was gaining popularity. Steve read it while slightly smirking, and decided to show it to you. “Check it out,” Steve said, “looks like people are spotting an admirer.”

You were confused at what he was talking about, and that’s when you saw the comment:

mary: has anyone noticed Bucky in the background?! He keeps looking at y/n with heart eyes!

Sure enough, when you went back to look at the footage, you saw that Bucky was feigning eating his lunch, whilst staring at you, albeit with his heart fluttering.

You thought the gesture was endearing, and it only made you wonder more if Bucky really thought of you in that way. It was time to get the bottom of it.

“Hey Buck, is it okay if I record here? The lighting is better, but I just wanna make sure I’m not intruding,” you said with slight concern.

Bucky smiled at you, “you’ll never intrude on me, Doll. You can have as much or as little sunlight when you’re around me.”

You giggled like a schoolgirl and went on with your plan. You decided to place your phone by a pile of books on the kitchen table where Bucky was sitting, inconspicuously flipping the camera so that it was facing him.

The song that you decided to ‘record’ was an upbeat and fun one, and you’ve already learned the dance. There had been a challenge going around that you would film your significant other reacting to you dancing said song, and it was very popular. However, you didn’t have a significant other, but Bucky was definitely a close second.

As the song started playing, Bucky’s eyes started to light up and became very interested as to how you were going to dance to it. His head started bobbing along to the song, mouthing some of the lyrics.

Then it got to the chorus. You started doing the moves along with the song, and Bucky’s face said it all. He was enamored. He started to cheer you on, mimicking the moves you were doing, and clapping once you finished your little dance number.

As you finished your dance, your phone finished recording and saved the video to your photo album. You took a seat at the kitchen table and quickly skimmed the video. Your cheeks started burning red as you captured a moment of Bucky smiling really big while you were dancing.

You kept replaying the video when Bucky called your name. “How’s the video looking, sweetheart?” he asked as he tried to read your face.

Your face started to go red again. You didn’t think you would get this far. Your mind started racing and tried to think of anything, anything, to cover up your true motives.

“I… the video didn’t come out as good as I thought,” you replied in a high-pitched voice.

“Doesn’t sound too convincing, doll,” Bucky questioned as he got up from his chair and slowly started making his way towards you.

You hid your phone behind your back, trying to back away from Bucky’s extended hand.

“Doll, I just want to see the video, it can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, but it is, I can’t show you,” you tried to argue.

Bucky started advancing much faster, and had you cornered by the kitchen wall. He put one arm above your head, and stared right through your lies.

“And why is it bad?” Bucky inquired.

You took a deep breath, while also making the mistake of inhaling Bucky’s cologne. His fresh pine scent started making you dizzy, knees almost bucking at the sight before you.

“It’s just…” you started. “The last video I made with Steve, someone noticed you in the background looking at me, and they said it looked endearing.”

When Bucky didn’t respond, you continued, “I didn’t believe it so I did the challenge where I record myself dancing, I recorded you looking at me dancing.”

“Is that so?” Bucky said as he broke into a small.

“I’m really sorry Bucky,” you replied with a small whisper, “If you want, I’ll delete it immediately. I wasn’t planning on posting it or anything.”

“Then what exactly were you going to do with the video?” Bucky asked as he raised an eyebrow.

You gulped. Well, it’s now or fucking never.

“.... cherish it,” You said sheepishly, “I thought you looked really cute when you were cheering me on with my dumb dances that you hate.”

Bucky’s face softened. “Didn’t know you thought that fondly of me, doll. Also, your dances aren’t dumb. I just… I’m a bad dancer.”

You started laughing. “Lucky for you, we both have the rest of the day off to practice… if that’s okay with you?”

Bucky kissed your forehead, “of course it’s fine… after I take on a little dinner date, though.”

“Deal.”

You and Bucky embraced each other, taking in each other. You gave him a peck on the cheek and then Peter came running in.

“Hey guys! Shuri’s here and she wants to teach you a new dance!” he chirped as he was running out of breath. “It’s called the renegade dance, do you guys wanna take part in it?”

You turned to Bucky, who then flashed his smile. “Of course, kid. But let Shuri know that me and my girl over here are gonna crush you guys at it.”

Peter’s eyes widened and took a glance towards both of you.

“... uhhhh no. But this is still a lot to process,” and with that he left the kitchen.

“What do you say, Y/N... Can I have this dance?” Bucky asked, extending his arm.

“It’d be an honor, Buck,” you replied, taking his hand and making your way outside.

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Peter Parker - See the light (7)

Is it a bit shorter? Yes. Is it a bit more sentimental? Of course. Be prepared! If you know the film, this goes a little bit different, becuase Peter deserves some love!

Small sneak peek

First part

Second part

Third part

Fourth part

Fifth part

Sixth part

Plot: after all this years, you’re finally going to fulfill your dream. Having Peter by your side is surely the best way to do it.

You had some expectations for the kingdom, but that didn’t help your jaw form dropping when you finally caught sight of it. You were completely speechless. You didn’t bother to pick up your hair as you bounced as quickly as you could across the stone bridge and towards the kingdom. The sun beamed down, and distantly, you could hear the sounds of music drifting through the air.

Peter, who had been holding your hand the whole trip there, let his smile drop. He wasn’t fond of the city, where all of his dreams and hopes had been crushed. Still, he let himself be pulled along by you.

When you entered the kingdom limits, you were immediately surrounded by people. The city seemed to be throwing some magnificent festival. A child ran by you, and you watched as he knelt in front of a huge mural on a wall close by. A man and a woman were depicted in the painting – both standing tall and regal. Both also incredibly beautiful.

In the woman’s arms, was a tiny baby. She had long, curly hair, big bright eyes and looked happy; with a piece of jewellery on her head that looked far too big. The kid placed a small flower in front of the mural.

“For the lost princess” he mumbled.

You were about to go over and ask what he was doing, when a particularly hard tug on your scalp made you lose Peter’s grip and reel back, yelping. Looking back, you saw people stepping all over your hair, and soon you lost Peter trying to avoid all that tugging. The boy immediately lunged forward and started picking it all up, his arms quickly filling.

Peter looked around for a split of second before smiling. He moved your hair and you walked with him, rubbing the back of your head painfully.

“Hey kids!” Peter called out, catching the attention of a group of small girls. He didn’t say anything, just showed them his hands full of hair. He raised his brows, and the girls shouted in excitement.

Soon enough, you were sitting on the cobblestone while five girls ran around you, braiding your hair and lessening the weight. Peter sat besides you all the time, talking about everything and nothing. He told you about the memories he had there, facts about some places and explained some things you still didn’t understand.

When you were finished, you span around. Your hair was collected in one big braid, formed with smaller ones that had pretty flowers and ornaments in between. It almost reached the floor, but it wasn’t long enough for people to step on it. Peter babbled all the way while he payed the girls and tried to tell you how pretty you were. After some embarrassing tries, he gave up.

“I could show you what this festival is really about” Peter offered you his arm, blushing. “Y-you’re, well, you… you’re already the prettiest girl here. W-would be, uh, a shame if I d-didn’t show you o-off?”

That time, Pascal wasn’t close to stick his tongue on his ear, and Maximus was busy trying to watch out for crime. To Peter, you had always had some kind of special beauty; but there, morning sun just shinning for you and curious big eyes looking up to him, you looked ravishing.

Maybe, it was his chance to kiss you. He had never been too good with women, apart from the girl he had dated back then; MJ, threatening and self-sufficient. Peter had been the one guidable in that relationship; but now, he knew you knew nothing about them. Kissing you felt suddenly wrong, taking that from you, your first kiss.

So, swallowing down the urge of pressing his lips against yours, he took your hand back and starter walking towards the group of people who were dancing.

For the next hours, you danced. Peter taught you the main steps to the popular dance, and was by your side the whole time; holding you closer, spinning you around, laughing with you when you stepped on him. The sun slowly came down, as you learned more about the city. Peter bought you a small flag from a traditional post, and let you try every food you found on your way.

Maximus and Pascal appeared long into the day, when you were hanging from Peter’s arm. To end the night, the boy had decided to surprise you. You were laughing with him when suddenly you stopped. The sun was setting and you were in front of the water.

“What is this, Pete?” you asked.

“Best day of your life. Thought I might give you something to remember your birthday.”

Peter gestured to a rowboat tied close by. Maximus huffed behind you, and Pascal frowned. Together, you climbed inside the boat and watched as Peter showed you how it moved. The animals emitted some noises.

“Here, fetch” Peter said with a grin. He threw an apple onto the dock, landing at the horse’s feet. When it didn’t make a move to eat it, Peter continued. “If you’re worried about if being stolen, don’t be!”

Maximus still glared at Peter, but ate it anyway.

“Besides” Peter said, leaning in so only you could hear him. “He already ate all the stolen ones”

You laughed, and Peter smiled. It was silent for a while, only interrupted by your occasional offer to take the paddles. He used that time to think that, if there was a thing that he could do until he died, it would be spending every minute and second by your side. The girl that had managed to steal his broken heart and fix it.

When Peter stopped the boat, it was dark. The moon and the starts were being reflected on the water, and the lights of the kingdom could be seen in the distance; besides that, you were barely able to see his face. You had your doubts about the final ‘surprise’, and were a bit nervous about not being able to see the flying lanterns because of it. Yet you trusted Peter, and if by any chance you lost the opportunity to see them, but got to watch him talk excitedly for another hour, it was okay. You weren’t going to ask for a better birthday present.

“I – uh, it’s a bit soon” Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really measure the time. I thought –“

“It’s okay” you leaned forward and took his hand in yours. “We can wait”

“Mh” Peter didn’t say anything else, but stared at your hands.

In comparison, yours were much more soft, and perfect. His were full of scars – at least one of them – and bruises. You watched him fight with his mind for a while.

“I had fun today. A lot” you smiled, even if he wasn’t looking at you. “The dancing was – wow, I didn’t know something so wonderful existed. I want to repeat that again.”

Peter’s head rose up at your words, and he looked surprised. Against what you thought, Peter hadn’t forget about the deal; you watching the flying lanterns, and him getting his crown back. But, against what your mother thought, it wasn’t his only intention. Everytime he thought about you, he thought about the possibility of staying. Of actually staying with you for the long run.

He could see how much your mother had hurt you over the years, and secretly hated the idea of you going back to the tower. Peter wondered that, maybe, if he could keep you away with the money he got from the crown. Selling it would be difficult, but worthy if it gave him the chance of having a future with you.

His interests, his dreams, had changed; he no longer wanted the sunny island with loads of money. In his opinion, a crazy chameleon and a girl with magic hair was enough, wherever that was.

You took his silence as something negative, so you frowned and your shoulders slumped.

“Not that I could” you looked down. “Mother will be worried, and tonight are the flying lanterns. So tomorrow morning I –“

“You could stay with me” Peter blurted out. He worried not being enough for you, but a future with your mother could only be worse. He shifted towards you. “I know – I don’t have much, but it’s better than being locked in a tower”

You blinked surprised at his confession, and gaped. The world seemed more illuminated, or maybe it was just your eyes being used to the dark. But you could see every detail on Peter’s face; from his little, almost invisible, mole under his left eye, to the way his thin brows couldn’t stay neat. He had his jaw clenched hard, lips pressed in a thin line. And his brown eyes, burning with hope and determination, were boring into you.

Peter didn’t let you talk.

“Don’t answer me now” he rushed, and brought his hand to his lips. He was blushing, yet held a confidence that made you blush. “Just – think about it”

You were going to ask him how were you supposed to sit in an unmoving boat, with him and no other distraction, and say nothing about it. But soon, the first two lanterns appeared floating through the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

You knew what came next.

The air is suddenly flooded with hundreds upon hundreds of lights, all of them much bigger and brighter from the ones you saw from your window. The world glowed, and you felt content. Happy, because it was everything you had hoped for; just as you thought so, you turned to look at Peter.

He was already looking at you with a half-smile, and two lanterns of his own. The boy moved so that you could also fit on his side of the boat, and you sat beside him. Your shoulders brushed and his warmth evolved you.

“For you” Peter said softly, and gave you one. It had beautiful and elaborated purple draws, only matching the beauty of the moment and Peter turned his head and talked close to you. “Sometimes – you know, uh, sometimes you h-have to let go. Freedom is about letting go, Y/N”

Everything that had been built for years, locked on the tower and dreaming of the lanterns, broke up that night. Maybe it was because of his words, because of the encouragement and the possibility of taking your on decision of them. Your fingers un-curled around the bottom of the lantern when Peter leaned forward, tilting his head so that your noses didn’t touch, but your lips did.

The lantern wasn’t being held down anymore, as your fingers lost strength when Peter kissed you. And Peter’s one flew away, because he used his hands to cup your cheek and search for your own. Both of the lights became one of the flying mass that commemorated the missing princess. To them, might had been only another year of flying lanterns.

To you, was letting go of the weight that had chained you to the tower for years. The pain, the fear, it all melted away as Peter pulled you close, and crashed his lips with yours once more.

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starkergames · 4 years

Photo

Title: Dance Me to the End of Love Artists: @still-lovelygarnet (sketch), Lighinz (Ink), @the-mad-starker (Color + Writer) Notes: Lighinz: This was the first piece of starker fanart I’ve ever worked on and I’m so glad it was with my lovely teammates. They’re such inspirations! It’s been amazing seeing this all come together. ❤️❤️ Garnet: This drawing has been a journey for me, and I am so happy to see it finished! It’s a beauty and I am proud of my wonderful, stunning, hard working and stupidly talented teammates, @the-mad-starker & Lighinz! And let’s not forget the fic that comes with it, Mads being an absolute trouper as always. ❤️❤️ Thank you guys for having me! Mads: I had absolutely no idea how much work coloring was but my teammates were always so encouraging and supportive. QAQ I’ll never take fanart for granted again QAQ But I’m happy I gave this a shot and I’ve learned so much. Thanks to my teammates and for this event for bringing us together 💗 The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license.

Tony Stark was married.

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse’s name. Fic below the cut!

February 14, 2020.

A Friday night to remember since it was not only Valentine's Day but also the Stark Valentine's Charity ball.

Every year, Stark Industries would raise thousands and this year, it would be no different. Most likely, they'd be able to raise more than any other year previously since the spotlight had been on Tony for the past week.

An important document had been leaked.

A marriage license.

It came as a shock.

The social media sites and media had gone apeshit over the leak. A certain document started circulating, a marriage license.

Tony Stark was married.

The only problem was, whoever had done it had blurred out his spouse's name.

And so the paparazzi were on the hunt for a Mrs. or Mr. Stark only to find out Tony had taken a two week business trip.

False, they had discovered. The business trip was actually a honeymoon and the trail went cold until now.

Tony had managed to avoid them once he came back, no husband or wife in sight. That caused an even bigger commotion since it piqued everyone's curiosity. It was easy enough for Tony to remain unreachable, considering the man lived in the penthouse above Stark Industries.

It wasn't as easy for Peter though since he still lived in Queens with his aunt, but no one was all too interested in him. No one, except Tony.

Tony, who, despite Peter's insistence that he didn't need to be picked up, had arrived at his aunt's 5:30 on the dot. It wasn't unusual though since Tony was just spontaneous and hard to say no to.

Peter's boss and mentor sat beside him in the limo driving them to the event. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the man sitting beside him.

Tony Stark was aglow from all the sun he'd been enjoying and more than that, he was genuinely happy. The smile on his face said as much, a charming and almost dopey smile that not many were accustomed to seeing. Marital bliss suited the older man even if his smiles deepened the lines on his face.

To Peter, Tony has never looked so handsome.

He fidgeted in his seat, still not used to wearing the kind of attire that's required for these things.

Tony picked out his suit though, a cream-colored piece that only seemed to accentuate his slim but fit body. In contrast, the older man had worn a navy blue suit along with a very light, almost white, pink shirt. A rose was tucked into his shirt pocket and Peter smiled at the sight.

"The polls for the identity of Mrs. Stark is pretty funny," Tony mused as he scrolled through the media sites on his phone.

"Who's winning now?" Peter asked as he leaned closer to peek at his phone.

Pepper Potts's name was nowhere in the list but only because she had adamantly denied it from the very start. The paparazzi had also proven that Ms. Potts had been attending a company business while Tony had disappeared for his honeymoon.

"Who is that even…?" Peter laughed. "Natasha Romanoff…?"

Tony bumped his knee against his and chuckled.

"They got a hold of the guest list," Tony explained, "that's why she's jumped up in the polls."

Peter hummed but leaned back.

"Too bad the only person accompanying you is your protege," Peter said, knee bouncing as he scrolled through the list.

There was a separate poll for men, too, since Tony wasn't exactly shy about his preferences. Peter's heart skipped a beat when he saw his own there, listed near the very bottom at place number twenty-one out of twenty-five.

Warmth. Tony's hand settled on top of his bouncing knee. His wedding ring glinted in the light, a simple golden band with one studded diamond embedded inside.

"Breathe, kid," Tony instructed gently. "You sure you wanna do this? I know these public things aren't your scene."

Peter was anxious and it was obvious. He took a deep breath, stopped his fidgeting, and focused his runaway thoughts.

He knew that if he had said so right now that Tony would bring him home.

That, more than anything, was what had Peter returning the smile. It was a bit strained from the upcoming event, but it was there. He settled a hand over Tony's and felt the smooth, hard metal beneath his fingers. A gentle squeeze was given to show his appreciation.

"I can do this," Peter said and then corrected himself. "I want to do this."

"That's my spunky little intern," Tony smiled back at him.

"Not an intern anymore," Peter reminded him with a fond shake of his head.

He hasn't been an intern for almost two years and was expecting to take over as the R&D department manager of Stark Industries within the next six months.

And the relationship between him and Tony...

Tony grinned at the correction.

"Of course not. How do I keep forgetting?" Tony pretended to chide himself.

Peter was about to make a quip about his age but then the limo came to a stop at the entrance.

Outside, he saw the crowd of reports just waiting to catch a glimpse of Tony's spouse who they expected had ridden with him. He wondered how they'd react when they see just little old Peter Parker trailing after his boss.

Everyone was used to seeing Peter by Tony's side since he joined SI. Tony, himself, had called Peter his protégé, his next big project, the rising star of SI… the list of affectionate nicknames go on and on and has accumulated into a big pile of endearments.

Peter cherished each one.

"Knock 'em dead," was the last thing Tony said before they went to face the crowd.

The camera flashes were blinding. Even after two years of it, Peter still forgot to expect them until it was already too late and dots were dancing in his vision.

As expected of Tony Stark, he owned the audience's attention and smiled at every camera turned his way. Peter followed behind and was careful to keep away from the reporters.

No one was really interested in him since it was Tony that they wanted to get at.

Peter watched, amused, as Tony deflected every inquiry regarding his spouse that was thrown his way. This was a charity ball, after all, and the older man turned every question into answers that promoted and brought the attention back to the event in question.

Peter didn't know how he did it but it was a superpower he'd have to learn in the future.

The event area was decorated in a beautiful mess of Valentine's Day colors. The tables were set in white with stunning displays of bouquets. The roses were in full bloom, vibrant reds that popped out when surrounded by the more gentle pinks and whites of the surrounding flowers.

Crowds of people already sat at their tables, socializing and having a good time with wine being served.

It was a very large event and just standing there, taking it all in, Peter felt he could've easily lost himself in there. But then he felt a strong and familiar presence by his side and he turned, finding Tony right there beside him.

At that moment, the room could've been filled to capacity and Peter wouldn't have noticed anyone else besides Tony.

To him, it was obvious that he was in love with his boss. To others, maybe it wasn't as obvious since they liked to think of him as Tony's mini-me.

A lot of people also felt that they knew what Tony's feelings and thoughts were. It was easy to believe that since Tony was such an outspoken and outgoing person. He could talk on and on about something, injecting his insights and thoughts on a subject, and the listener would only have a glimpse of who Tony really was.

So, everyone thought that they knew Tony Stark because of his past reputation and his easy-going personality.

Then Tony did something like secretly getting married and people suddenly realized how very little they knew about him. They hadn't even known he was dating, let alone serious enough to pop the question.

They didn't see Tony the way Peter did, didn't know him the way Peter did so how could he blame them for being so oblivious?

Every smile Tony gave to others, he gave twice as many to Peter in darted glances and quick flashes. He always pulled Peter into the conversation and Peter wondered if others recognized just how often Tony spoke about him.

Maybe they did. Maybe they brushed it off.

That would change tonight.

Many had asked about the mysterious Mr. or Mrs. Stark. Curious eyes searched for Tony's spouse by his side and seemed to slip right over Peter. It didn't upset him at all. It made him happy that he was such a well recognized figure in Tony's life.

The money came pouring in for the charity and Tony gave them his dazzling smile. Appetizers were served, the guests' chatter dropping to low murmurs as they were served finger foods that could've easily replaced dinner with how generous it was.

A short speech was made and Tony looked so handsome with the mic in his hand and a bright gleam in his eye.

Peter, from his seat at the front table, could practically feel how the guests were hoping for Tony to introduce his spouse.

And like the tease Tony was, just shortly before concluding his speech, he had the audacity to say, "I know many of you are dying to meet my sweetheart." He gave the crowd a wink, "And it is Valentine's Day so it would make sense, huh?"

A pause as the crowd waited patiently or impatiently for the big reveal.

"But this ball isn't about me or my newly beloved, but we'll see if we can get some more surprises in by the end of the night. Dinner should be coming out shortly and then, we'll get to the fun part of the evening. Dancing!"

Tony rejoined the first table, completely at ease with his selected dinner mates. He flashed Peter a quick grin before he nudged his seat closer.

"What do you think? Will they be lucky enough?" Tony leaned in to ask.

Beneath the table, a warm hand settled on his knee, a reassuring weight. Peter had to fight to keep the smile from splitting across his face.

The whole dancing part of the event made him nervous and Tony had promised him that he didn't need to. Just thinking about it made his heart pound but when he looked at the older man, he felt it melt into a mess of goo and affection.

He subtly slipped his hand beneath the table, settling it above Tony's and gave it a squeeze.

"Maybe," he said with a faint smile.

They withdrew both their hands as the waiters came out and served dinner. The dinner SI provided for their guests was almost decadent. It warmed their bellies with good food and along with the alcohol from the open bar, laughter and smiles were being exchanged with ease.

The clatter of utensils working over near and veggies filled the room and the soft quiet conversations lulled as people ate.

And just as dinner was wrapping up, a familiar tune started to play. Peter glanced and Tony and found the man staring back at him, unabashed and grinning from ear to ear.

He returned it with an exasperated shake of his head, but when Tony held his hand out… Peter took it.

He was pulled from his seat and led onto the empty dance floor. The music swirled around them and the entire hall fell into a hush as more and more people noticed the pair on the floor.

Tony led Peter in a dance and it was there that everyone's eyes were finally opened to the truth.

The person they had been looking for all evening had been by Tony's side the entire time.

There was no doubt about it now, as the audience's eyes followed the pair. Fluid, graceful movements… Hand in hand, they swept across the dance floor, perfectly in sync in body, as well as mind.

It was undeniable, the tenderness that spread across Tony's face as he looked at Peter

Undeniable, when Peter smiled so sweetly at him.

They danced and danced and to Peter, it was like the entire hall disappeared. There was no one else but them and all the anxiety, all the doubts faded away as he looked into Tony's eyes.

They had taken a long path to get where they were today. What started as a simple, professional relationship slowly transformed into a quiet, but comfortable silence as they worked.

The silence became filled with chatter and once one started talking, the other would answer. Their quiet work hours became filled with laughter and scandalized jokes then with soft teasing. The hunger for each other's company grew until it spilled out of the lab and brought them together in movie theaters then quiet little evenings in Peter's apartment.

Their first kiss was a memory that made them both grin and laugh. A moment of spontaneity as Tony babbled on and on, a flush of excitement tinting his cheeks red. Then shocked silence as Peter shut him up with a press of his lips.

Do that again, Tony had dared and Peter hadn't backed down since. He'd done it countless times until they were both breathless from it.

Countless dates and secret smiles being exchanged at the office. I love you's being exchanged softly and meaningfully. Reverently. Then the ease in which those words came, each dropping it casually in their texts and whenever they parted. It didn't make those significant words any less meaningful. In fact, it only reaffirmed, over and over, how they felt about each other.

Months fast-forwarded and then Tony was kneeling in front of him, a black box in hand and Peter staring dumbly at him like he hadn't expected it at all. The mister to my Mr. Stark, Tony had casually said once upon a time and now… Now, the ring sat on Peter's fingers, a quiet but unbreakable declaration.

All those memories whirled around them as they danced. The ease in which they trusted one another was obvious. The love they had was now glaringly obvious, as obvious as the beautiful sparkle that Peter's diamond ring gave off, a perfect mirror to Tony's wedding band.

And when the song came to an end, Tony's mic turned on. That voice that Peter has heard whispering love into his ears come on the speakers, breathless from excitement and exertion.

"I don't need to make introductions," Tony said while looking into Peter's eyes. "You all know who he is." -- Thank you to our wonderful artists and writer who participated in the first Starker Games!

#Starker #Starker Fanart #Starker Fanfic #PeterxTony #TonyxPeter #Starker Games

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dear-selena · 5 years

Text

Sketchbook (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader): Chapter 2

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Female)

Summary: (Y/N) never understood science based subjects, despite putting all her efforts into studying them. Kids at school bullied her, her father, Tony Stark, was disappointed in her, and the Avengers looked the other way. Peter Parker, her best friend and secret crush for almost two years, was always there supporting her when she needed someone. However, since he became an Avenger and her dad’s ‘favorite kid’, (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be around.

You find yourself struggling to exist with everything working against you, and instead of asking others for help, you turn to your sketchbook.

Warnings: Favoritism, fighting (battle wise), mentions of depression

A/N: Hey guys! thank you all so much for the support on my first chapter. School has been extremely crazy for me, so I’ve been struggling to write, but I really wanted to update tonight. Like I said before, updates for this story will be sparce because of my school schedule, so please be patient with me.

Also, I’ve been experiencing extreme writer’s block with this story, so please be patient with me as I work through it. I think I’ve come up with a good path for this story to go, and feedback will be much appreciated. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoy chapter 2!

Chapter 2: Whipped Into Shape

Words: 2097

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

The ride home from school couldn’t have been any quicker.

Happy always waits for you when school ends to drive you home. Normally, you would talk up a storm to him about how frustrating classes were, and he’d listen contently, chiming in sometimes to give you advice. However, today you stay silent, thinking about how you had to face your father at home and tell him about your D+ in chemistry.

Hopefully everyone forgot you got your grades back today.

“Everything alright back there kiddo?” You hear happy ask you, snapping you out of any negative thoughts that started to form. “Is it about grades again?”

You slowly nod, admitting defeat. “I failed my chem midterm. Again.”

Happy looks at you through the rear-view window, pity evident in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, not wanting to breakdown in front of your family’s head of security.

Once Happy reaches the Avengers Compound, you thank him and quickly make your way inside. When you reach the common room, you find Bucky and Sam playing video games on the big screen, nodding at you when they see you’ve come back home.

“Hey (Y/N), how’d the test go?” Sam asks without taking his eyes off the screen. Dammit they remember.

You try to act dumb. “What test? I didn’t take any test…”

Bucky turns to glance at you before giving his attention back to the game. “She probably failed again. Hope Tony doesn’t freak.” He mumbles. However, you heard everything he said, and quietly left the room before they could say anymore hurtful words. Bucky always liked saying things bluntly. But you weren’t in the mood to deal with him today. The truth hurt too much.

Making a quick pitstop in your bedroom, you drop your backpack and quickly change into some training gear. After school you would train with Natasha, learning self-defense, fighting tactics, and how to use certain weapons. You started this routine when you entered your freshman year of high school as a privilege. Your father refused to have your trained when you were younger despite your constant begging. However, when he enrolled you into Midtown High, he started having Natasha training you as a way to keep you in check. If you did well in school, you were allowed to train, simple as that.

Natasha was always so patient with you, no matter how inconsistent training you has been. Sometimes, your father would forbid you from training when you’re grades were at an all time low in order to make you study more, so you weren’t as skilled as you wished. However, your skills have gotten better over the past few months, and you thought that developing these skills might finally land you a spot with the Avengers.

When your father allows it, training gave you a new sense of life. It made you feel as if you could do anything, even stop your bad thoughts from ever returning. You weren’t sure how it happened, but fighting alongside Natasha felt great, even if you weren’t the best. Natasha was a great teacher.

But you secretly wish your father would be there helping you learn.

Tying your hair into a high ponytail and giving yourself another look in the mirror, you grab your boxing tape and start the trek to the training room. On your way to the room however, you can’t help but get distracted by the lab. It was in the direction you were taking, and its walls were glass, so you could see everything. Normally, Bruce and your father were in there upgrading suits and weapons, drafting new tech, or testing gear. However, neither one were in sight, and the lab doors were wide open.

Tony had strict rules about who was allowed in the lab, especially with you. You’ve always wanted to help your father build things and learn from him, but he simply didn’t allow it, not until you got your grades up. You understood why he was so strict with you, but you couldn’t help but yearn to get your hands on some of his prototypes. It especially stung when he started allowing Peter into the lab, teaching him how to use the equipment like you always dreamed of him teaching you.

Peter was obviously his favorite child, and he wasn’t even a Stark.

Walking through the large glass doors, you look around in awe at your father’s work. Despite being here 24/7, your father manages to keep this place in tip-top shape. Looking around, you notice that he’s currently working on upgrades for Peter’s Iron-Spider suit, giving his A.I. an upgrade and fixing his web shooters that he recently blew out in a recent mission. Of course. You also notice that him and Bruce have started drafting new weapons, and from the looks of it, it seems they’re trying to make these weapons unique for certain climates on Earth.

“What did I say about coming in here?”

Jumping out of your skin, you whip around to see your father at the lab doors, arms folded in front of him and staring at you intensely. “I-I’m sorry dad. I didn’t know you were here.”

“And I don’t know why you’re here (Y/N),” Your father retorts, making you shrink in place. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

You shake your head rather quickly. “No sir.”

“Good, now get out of here before you do. Natasha is waiting for you.”

Before you could move, Peter speed walks through the doors. “Hi Mr. Stark, sorry I’m late I was-” Peter’s eyes land on you, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! (Y/N), are you joining us today?”

You went to answer, but your father beat you to it. “Sorry kid, (Y/N) hasn’t earned that privilege yet.”

Ouch.

You look down as you make your way out of the lab, your eyes meeting Peter’s. He stares at you with a look of pity, a look you hated coming from anyone, especially your best friend. Hopefully training would distract you from the ache that formed in your heart.

“Hey (Y/N)?” You hear your father call out before you were out of range. Turning around, you see that Peter and your father were getting ready to work on the Iron-Spider suit. “How did your chemistry test go?”

You freeze in place, body going numb at the thought of your failure. Your father instantly notices and eyes you, disappointment evident in his expression. “Let me guess. Another C?”

You blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “Worse than that.” Your voice barely came out as a whisper.

Peter lifts his head from what he’s doing, eyes widening at your statement. He didn’t realize your test went that poorly. Your father on the other hand, looks down and nods, expecting that answer from you. “Just… just go train.”

You immediately run out of the lab and all the way to the training room, seeing Natasha and Steve in the middle of a sparring match. You breathe a sigh of relief, being away from you father and all.

Hopefully some training will help your negative thoughts.

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

“Oof!” You gasp out as you fall flat on your face.

Natasha currently has you sparring with Steve, and much to your dismay, he was winning. Avoiding his swings had gotten easier for you, but in a moment where you got a little too confident, Steve surprises you and kicks in your legs, knocking you off balance.

Putting her hand to her head and rubbing her temples, Natasha sighs. “C’mon (Y/N),” She urges. “You can’t get too cocky.”

You look up and see Steve extending a hand to you, pulling you off the mat with ease. “I’m sorry Miss Romanoff.”

“It’s okay, but if you really want to go on missions someday, you’ll need to find a way to focus.” Natasha lectures. You nod sadly. She was right after all. “You’ve been getting better since your training has become routine, so is there anything you know you can do to help you focus better?”

You take a good moment to think about this. Normally drawing and writing in your sketchbook helps you, but that definitely wouldn’t help in a battle. However, you do know that holding something in your hands helps you stay attentive. “May I try sparring with a weapon?”

Natasha’s eyebrows raise, a small smile forming on her lips. “I hoped you’d say that.”

You walk over to the training equipment as Steve goes to to grab his shield. The spar needed to be fair after all. When you use a weapon to train, you find a sense of comfort that you don’t get fighting with only your hands. Luckily, Natasha has picked up on this too.

Looking through all the weapons Bruce and your father has provided for training purposes, you think about every weapon you’ve used thus far. You were fairly decent with staffs, guns weren’t particularly your favorite, and shields felt sort of like dinner plates to you. However, there was one weapon you’ve become quite fond of, smiling as your eyes landed on it.

“A whip?” Natasha questions as you take the piece of rope off the hook and wrap the handle around your right wrist. “You really like that one don’t you?”

You turn and smile at your mentor, playfully snapping the whip in response. Just then, Steve came back with his famous shield. “Ready to go (Y/N)?”

“More ready than before,” you say confidently, despite what Natasha said about cockiness earlier. You and Steve go back on the sparring mat, taking up each side. Taking a deep breath, you swing your whip around a little, getting used to the feeling of the rope.

“Okay. 3, 2, 1, go!”

With that, you open your eyes to see Steve lunge at you. Starting as well, you run directly at him and attempt snap the whip in his face. Steve quickly blocks your attack with his shield and slides under you, trying to knock you off your feet again. Luckily, you saw this coming and jump out of his way, turning to see him get back up again.

The battle continues for a little while. Steve blocking your whips and swinging his shield as you roll around his attacks. The whip starts to feel like an extension of your arm, and even though you’re fairly decent with it, you smack yourself with it a few times, accidentally burning the skin on your stomach and thighs. However, you were more focused than ever.

In a lucky snap, you wrap your whip around Steve’s shield, sliding it out of his hands and across the floor, shocked by your sudden move, Steve didn’t expect you to snap the whip around his legs and send him crashing into the mat. You yank the rope, sliding Captain America to your side and out your foot in his back. Steve’s eyes widen as he realizes his defeat, and your mouth goes agape.

“Whoa, did I just do that?”

“Yes!” You hear Natasha say, and you look up to see her start to clap, a proud expression on her face. “I’ve never seen you do something like that. I’m impressed.”

Unwrapping Steve from the rope, you help him up. “Same, I have to say (Y/N), that was the best match I’ve had with anyone in a while, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

Radiating happiness, you shake Steve’s hand. “Thank you Mr. America.”

“I think it’s a good time to call it quits,” Natasha says, patting your back. “Good job (Y/N), I’ll make sure to tell Tony about your improvements.”

You’re eyes light up. Maybe your father will finally be proud of you. “You will?”

Natasha nods. “Just don’t get too confident now. I heard about your… recent grade, so I’m going to try and convince your father to let you keep training now that I see the potential.”

Your smile falters a little. You completely forgot about that.

With one last pat on the back, you run off to the kitchen to grab some water and back to your room for a well deserved shower. Even though you didn’t do well in school today, you felt immensely proud of yourself for taking down the one and only Captain America. Sure, you got lucky, but this was the exact type of luck you needed as motivation.

This moment gave you another reason to keep going.

-----------

-Sketchbook Tag List-

@randomfanders-blog // @freestarlight // @depressing-as-shit // @sweetmilki // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @supermassiveblackhope

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut

-Permanent Tag List-

@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!reader #stark! reader #marvel #mcu #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #spiderman ffh #spiderman far from home #tom holland #dear-selena fanfiction #depression #fighting

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elizabeth-234 · 4 years

Text

The Hourglass

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter Eight: What Peter Carried

Chapter Nine: For the Greater Good Part One

Winter, 2017. Two weeks into escape.

Peter was, in truth, hiding from his watchful roommates. Their care of him in his sickness left Peter feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to act around them now and a rise of youthful insecurity made it impossible to set out from the blue room. He’d been so stupid, it amazed him. He was muscles still protested any movement from their trek outside and a lingering haze steamed through his mind. Even with the sickness and their over attentive care, the walk was worth it just to feel the wind on his face; to hear time going forward around him and with him.

His eyes kept returning to the lake, now a few weeks away from being fully iced over, outside the window as he paced his room. He watched the gap between the shore and ice. Dark water streamed up, washing onto the surfaces despite the dropping temperatures. It would be near impossible to see the vulnerable underbelly of the lake in the coming weeks. The ice would cover everything protecting and concealing the life underneath in a timeless vacuum until spring came again.

Someone knocked and Rhodey stuck his head into the room.

“Hey Peter. We’re going to watch some movies if you want to join. Tony’s making his… special waffles, too.”  

Rhodey made a face at the growl from Peter’s stomach. The man knew no matter how much he protested the sugar contents of Tony’s breakfast, he would be forced, and secretly enjoyed, seconds. Peter, however, had no trouble with the excessive ingredients and ate as much as he could. Sometimes he and Tony raced to see who could eat quicker.

Peter always won.

But the breakfast food would involve conversations and questions he didn’t feel like answering today.

“I dunno, Rhodey. I might stay in here.”

Rhodey being the more pragmatic of the two would normally give Peter his space for a while. He would leave with a disappointed smile and open invitation, and Peter found himself out of the room before an hour passed because of it. Today he changed his normal reaction. Rhodey came into the room and sat on the end of the bed gesturing for Peter to follow his lead. Rhodey folded his hands in his lap lacing his fingers together before they sat quietly. Both sets of eyes watching as the wind blew across the lake taking the snow along for a ride.

“I almost drowned once.” He said. Peter’s head snapped over and he gave a small chuckle under his breath while nodding out the window. “Right in that lake actually. I was young and stupid, going out when it was too warm and Tony, of course, would do anything a responsible adult would disapprove of so he was in. We had this friend who told us not to but we didn’t listen.”

“What happened?”

“Even though we didn’t listen to him, he still came with us.” He sighed and turned away from the lake to stare at Peter. “He saved me in the face of his fear. Tony calls me dramatic but he probably saved my life.”   

A shiver went down Peter’s spine and he avoided the man’s eyes to look back outside. He thought of all the times he went skating with May and Ben as a child. How fascinated he’d was of the ice. The tiny bubbles forming underneath the arctic structure, plastering to the horizontal wall and trying to escape up into the world only to disappear once the bubbles got passed the ice keeping them trapped. He remembered watching the sand settled on the bottom or be whipped into cloud of chaos with the slightest provocation. May had scolded him for pressing his face against the ice instead of skating around with them but in the end her and Ben had come over and joined him in his observations.

He wondered how old Rhodey was when this happened. Was it a childhood memory faded through time? Was he afraid of water now or the cold? Did he dream of the event? HE wanted to ask but instead he thought of the solitary figure in the story.

“What happened,” He said. “To your friend? What happened to him?”

Rhodey patted the bed covers and stood up. He walked across the room and only when his hand rested on the door handle did he answer without looking back at him or the blue room.

“He’s gone. You should come out. Tony’s been bugging me to show you some of the old horror classics.”  

Peter chuckled but when he looked back Rhodey was gone. He lay back on the blue bedspread, rubbing his fingers against the fabric. He thought of the story and wondered if it was one of those lesson stories to get him to overcome a fear. Would he be the type of person to go out onto the ice if he was afraid?

He didn’t know.

Maybe for May he would, but for someone else. For someone he didn’t know as well, it was hard to tell. Peter mashed his palms to his cheeks and stared blankly out the window. What a selfish thought, but he’d done the saving strangers thing, the superhero gig for a time and what did he have to show for it? A broken life. That wasn’t even truthful. His life had stopped the moment May was gone. From there on he’d been living on someone else’s time; on borrowed time, waiting until they decided it was enough. Waiting to decide when his time was up. It was how he lived for so long he almost forgot what it was like before. The selflessness required to grow with people and some part of him hoped he hadn’t lost that.

Tony barged into the room without knocking. Peter shook his head to clear his morose thoughts away and stared at the handful of DVDs stacked under a bowl of popcorn in Tony’s hands. He could smell the warm butter and salt.

“I know it’s winter and we should get into the Christmas spirit but I say fuck the Christmas spirit. We’re about to get spooky and I won’t take no for an answer.”   

Peter found himself on the chair beside Rhodey and Tony, engrossed in the Horror of Dracula. He cringed back in fear and laughed at the dated graphics all the while wondering if he was doing it right. If this was what having friends felt like. If when they came for him he would fight to stay or go back to the way things were?

“Shut up, Tony and get into place. You know my mom is very particular about these things.” Tony grumbled under his breath but at the mention of Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, he threw the bright red sweater over his head. Peter stood at the corner of the living room, watching as Rhodey adjusted the camera tripod height. The sounds of argument lured him from his room. Rhodey looked up from the lens. He threw something and Peter caught the red item automatically. Itchy material pooled in his hand. He rubbed his fingers along the hem and tilted his head in question at the pitcher.

“You didn’t think mom wouldn’t want to see our mysterious new roommate?” Rhodey asked with a smile. “Tony don’t move yet. I’m trying to get the frame right.” He said without taking his eyes off Peter.

Peter fidgeted thinking about Rhodey said. For some reason he felt a strange tightness in his chest at the notion of Roberta hanging the picture with him in it on the refrigerator. Of Rhodey’s family passing the photo, maybe dogeared and faded with time, every day on their way to grab their orange juice. People looked at it with a smile and fondness.

He found himself shaking his head without realizing it but Rhodey and Tony were already walking over. They grabbed the sweater out of his hands and shoved the itchy monstrosity over his shoulders. Peter was sitting on the chair in front of the camera before he could blink. Maybe these two did have some kind of superpower to move so fast without him knowing.

Tony threw an arm over his shoulder. “Just grin and bear it. She’ll send us cookies to make up for the pain of staged photos.” Rhodey adjusted the camera down and pressed the button on the side of the camera before running to Peter’s empty side. He threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder and leaned in. Peter could feel heat surfacing on his cheeks and neck. He smiled at the camera with a nudge from Rhodey as Tony counted down.

For the first time in a long time the expression took no effort.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Ten: For the Greater Good Part Two

#whumptober2020 #the hourglass #peter parker #tony stark #rhodey #james rhodes #spider man #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #MCU #AU #E writes

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you-guys--are-losers · 5 years

Note

I want something like the moment Peter realise he really like MJ.

//Oh, I like this one! Sure, let’s go. ;)

A Tiny Little Crisis

Summary: Peter Parker’s crush on MJ has been a long time coming, but there’s one moment that it hits him all at once.

Warnings: CUTENESS (also language)

Word Count: 835

Characters: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

The simple truth of is that Michelle Jones sneaks up on Peter

He doesn’t really understand the twinges of fondness or little flutters of warmth her voice sends through his body as anything other than friendship at first

After all, she’s one of his best friends going into junior year

And you’re supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy when you get a text from your best friend, right?

But as the year opens up, something in Peter’s feelings for MJ begins to change

And Peter is pretty sure, thinking back, that this is because of decathlon

It’s a new year, and now that MJ’s the captain, Peter gets to watch her do something she really cares about

Of course, MJ always cared, but she never really let on before this year

Now, MJ’s passion for the decathlon team is painfully evident in every laminated flashcard she slaps down in front of them at practice

Peter never realized how quick she was, not until Flash drilled her when he had claimed that “it wasn’t fair to expect anyone to know all of this” and she got all of his questions right

Every

Single

One

And Peter had never realized exactly how thorough her knowledge was, either, at least until she had spent a full afternoon helping him and Ned learn how the respiratory system worked

When Peter commented on it, she batted his praise away with an assertion that she only knew so much about bodies because she had spent so much time learning how to dissect humans before the aliens dropped her on this planet

But Peter could tell by the slight curve of her lip that she was secretly pleased that someone had noticed

Sure, MJ is pretty, but that’s something Peter has always known

The depth of her intelligence? That’s another thing

But there is one particular moment that Michelle Jones hits Peter like a truck, and that moment takes place during a practice a third of the way through the year

At this point, MJ has them studying environmental science, which a joy to just about everyone but Peter

And since he was out patrolling the night before, he didn’t have any time to look over it beforehand

Peter was worried about disappointing MJ, but she doesn’t ask him too many questions after she realizes he isn’t doing well, probably understanding his situation particularly well since she was the “guy (gal?) in the chair” the evening before

But Flash?

Not quite as forgiving

“Six or seven trees,” Flash drawls, peering down at his phone screen

In the quiet of the room, everyone looks up at Flash, slightly confused by his unprompted words

Peter, however, feels a sickening sense of dread from the tone of his teammate, and he glances at MJ

Who is the only one still focusing intently on her printed information sheet

“What?” Cindy Moon presses, running a hand through her dark hair

“Six or seven,” Flash repeats smugly, glancing at her with a sneer

“Brain cells left in your skull?” Ned suggests, causing Flash to wrinkle his nose

Peter hears a slight cough from MJ that he knows was meant to hide a snicker

“Trees,” Flash snaps, glaring at Peter’s friends, “that it takes to keep a human alive.”

He turns his gaze to Peter, and Peter glances away

He knows what’s coming, and he knows he can’t stop it, so there’s no point in letting it get to him

“Wanna go apologize to yours, Parker? After all, they’re doing a lot of work just to keep your sorry ass around.”

“Mr. Thompson-” Mr. Harrington coughs, appearing profoundly uncomfortable

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Flash continues innocently, turning to face the teacher

“I mean, it’s just that I care an awful lot about our environment, and-”

But that’s when it happens

“Doesn’t your dad’s company dump about ten tons of DDT into the Atlantic per year, Flash?”

The room falls into a gleeful silence as Flash breaks off, spluttering like a fish

But Peter isn’t looking at Flash

He’s looking at MJ, who can’t keep a satisfied gleam out of her eyes as she coolly raises an eyebrow at Flash

“Now, if we’re done looking at the first Google search that pops up, I’d appreciate it if we could get some work done.”

That’s all it takes for the rest of them to get back to studying, and even Flash turns back to his flashcards after a moment, cowed

But Peter doesn’t look away from MJ

Instead, he takes in the quiet pleasure she seems to exude, and he allows a grateful smile to slip onto his lips as he mouths “Thanks.”

MJ just shrugs and turns back to her cards, but Peter still hesitates

For just a moment, he wants to linger in the realization he’s just made:

He and Michelle Jones have something in common, something that he’s never felt understood in before

Because now, Peter realizes that Michelle Jones looks out for the little guy, too.

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searchingforstarss · 4 years

Note

irondad prompt: accidental poisoning, peter whump? pleeease? love your writing! hope you enjoy your time away!

hi lovely anon!! this took me a little longer to do because it kind of got away from me and turned out a lot longer than i was thinking! i hope you like it because it’s not as whumpy as i originally intended but as soon as i saw accidental poisoning i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so here you go. i hope you enjoy :)) x

---

Morgan’s gleeful yells are the first thing Peter’s greeted to when he arrives at the lake house on a Friday afternoon.

“Peter’s here! Peter’s here! I can hear him!”

The six-year-old barrels through the living room and out onto the front porch, excitement practically radiating off her in waves.

No matter how many times they try to explain to her that it simply isn’t feasible for Peter to stay with them any more than two nights a week because he has school in the city, she whines about how long he’s been away whenever he arrives, without fail. Today is no different.

“You’re not allowed to stay away for that long anymore, I miss you too much,” she declares. “Daddy can’t do the right voices when he reads Harry Potter to me either. You’re wayy better.”

Petter grins broadly down at her, about to open his mouth to greet her properly, ask about her week at school and whether she learnt how to do fraction multiplication like she had excitedly told him that she was going to during their Wednesday night phone call. He can’t even get a word in edgeways though because before he can, Morgan is babbling on again in her same gleeful tone that Peter adores.

“I have a surprise for you!” she announces proudly, tugging him up the creaky porch steps with her smaller hand tucked inside his.

“Whoa, that’s cool. What is it?” Peter asks. He tries to hide the apprehension from his tone, because Morgan’s surprises always swing one of two ways.

He’ll either end up trying to pretend he isn’t choking up when she presents him with a hand drawn-picture and note or craft project that she made at school during their art hour. Or, he’ll end up as a victim to one of her latest ideas, experiments and schemes. Last week it was her determination to teach Peter how to roller-skate on the cul-de-sac a few blocks over, which ended in Morgan clumsily pressing an excess number of band-aids onto his scraped knees. The month before he ended up as a human canvas to entertain her desire to learn how to face paint (that was all-around just as much of a disaster as it sounds like it would be).

“You can’t know what it is, silly!” Morgan sing-songs, “you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Silly me, of course,” Peter deadpans, but he’s ignored as she tugs him through to the kitchen as soon as he’s dumped his backpack on the couch.

“Surprise!” she exclaims as soon as they’re both in the room. She guestures excitedly towards a few slightly sad looking lumps of something drenched in icing and severed onto sticks. There are sprinkles as well, which look like they might have been a nice touch to cheer the entire thing up, had the majority of them not ended up scattered around the surrounding bench space.

“Daddy and I made cookie pops! Well, I made them, he just helped me use the big scary whisk-y thingy. They’re for Katie’s birthday party tomorrow because we all have to bring something yummy to eat, and Daddy wanted to do regular cookies but I told him that was boring. So we made these instead!”

“They look great, well done you guys,” Peter praises. Secretly, he’s almost certain that Tony was onto something with his suggestion. Cookies would have definitely been the safer option.

“I want you to try one! I saved the first one for you because I’m the best sister in the whole wide world.”

Peter eyes the pink ball of cookie dough being waved in his face dubiously, but Morgan’s creations often look worse than they actually are so he bites the bullet and accepts the treat that she’s thrusting towards him.

He takes a bite, partly because he’s being watched expectantly by large brown eyes and partly because he’s absolutely starving. He’s had a long day. Decathlon practice in the morning, AP classes back to back all afternoon and then the drive up here. Plus, he really wasn’t planning on Spider-Manning today, but there was a gas station robbery on the side of Interstate 87 that he pulled over to break up on his way because the man was threatening the poor guy behind the counter with a gun for a raspberry slushie, a hot dog and two packets of cigarettes and Peter had to intervene because that was just stupid on so, so many levels.

The shopkeeper gave him a free hot dog in return which he gladly scarfed down before he disappeared back out to his car, but that’s all he’s eaten since lunch. So as he chews Morgan’s baked concoction, he figures that the cookie dough is crumbly, sure, and maybe they went a little heavy with the icing sugar in the icing but Peter is so hungry that he thinks anything would probably taste good to him at this point.

Footsteps thud down the stairs, and Peter hears Tony’s voice before he sees him.

“Morgan, I swear if you’re force-feeding Peter. Your dear old brother doesn’t want any of our atrocious attempt at baking-“

Tony rounds the corner, eyes falling on Peter, mouth full of icing and cookie dough.

“Oh, I’m too late. Great.”

“Hey, Tony.”

“Hiya, Pete. Enjoying your snack?”

Peter carries on chewing on the food his mouth. “Mhmm. Definitely. Good job you guys.”

Tony shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, not a good job, not at all. I just got off the phone with Pepper, turns out you actually have to partially bake the cookie dough first. It honestly just seems like a lot of extra work if you ask me, but she’s the boss.”

“You’re starting again?” Peter asks.

“Yep, and since you’re here you can actually make yourself useful,” Tony snarks but there’s a fond smile on his face. Peter nods willingly. “Don’t just stand there then, kid. Grab the flour from the cupboard would you?”

Peter grins and turns to grab the flour like Tony requested. He doesn’t even have to think about it anymore, he knows exactly which shelf to reach for with the same sort of instinct that he has in his and May’s apartment.

(Even with all three of their hands on deck, the second round of cookie pops only end up looking mildly more appetizing than the first, but at least all of Morgan’s tiny friends won’t have uncooked, crumbly cookie dough forced on them so Tony claims it as a win - he’s never had the patience to deal with other kids’ whining parents anyway.)

---

Peter sleeps in the next morning, and the house is silent when he wakes. The first thing he notices is the way he’s shivering, even in the balmy morning sun streaming through his windows. There’s nausea as well, constantly threatening to make its way up his throat as it sits at the bottom of his stomach, churning and rolling uncomfortably,

The second thing he notices is a note sitting on his bedside table as he fumbles out one arm to grab his phone and check the time. Peter recognises Tony’s scrawl immediately.

Morning, sleepyhead. Gone to drop Morgan off to her party. Be home soon. T

He’s content to lie there for a while and wallow in his own misery and how dreadful he feels while he’s all alone in the house until his stomach lurches violently and he’s hauling himself out of bed, sweaty covers pooling around his feet. The room around him is spinning, but the singular thought occupying his hazy mind is get to the bathroom, Parker. Just make it to the damn bathroom.

He does, even though his legs are shaky underneath him, and he just manages to stumble through the open doorway of the bathroom and drop to his knees in front of the toilet. He doesn’t even register the pain that shoots through his knees and up his legs as he slams into the tile.

A charming mix of gas station hot dog, Morgan and Tony’s tragic attempt at a cookie pop and the lasagna Tony made for dinner last night ends up swimming at the bottom of the toilet bowl.

Gross.

“Peter?”

That’s his name. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere down near his bedroom. He tries to call back, but acid coats his raw throat and he can’t seem to get the words out. He retches again, before dipping forward to lean up against the ceramic of the toilet.

“Peter, oh, there you are-” Tony begins, but he drops off as Peter sees him appear around the corner of the bathroom door and take in the scene in front of him. “What’s going on?”

He blinks up at Tony through cloudy eyes.

“Think ‘m sick.”

“I thought you couldn’t even get sick?”

Peter tries to give a coherent answer, he thinks, but all that comes out is a whine. He looks up at Tony, eyes pleading. He’s not sure what he’s asking for, really. He just wants someone to make it better.

“Okay, okay, got it. That’s not really the point right now.”

Peter isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting as Tony hovers around the doorway. He wants comfort, he wants Tony, but he doesn’t dare to move far from the toilet.

“Oh, shit. Kid, you actually ate that garbage attempt of baking that Morgan gave you yesterday, didn’t you? There was raw egg in that.”

Peter just nods feebly, not entirely listening. His head is head still resting on the toilet seat. He doesn’t have the energy to lift it.

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but maybe Spidey is just as susceptible to food poisoning as the rest of us.”

Peter’s certainly listening now, his glazed eyes shooting open. Weak displeasure simmers within them.

“You poisoned me?”

Morgan’s surprise has now definitely landed on the bad side this week, leaning towards absolutely-fucking-awful.

“Technically, Morgan poisoned you. I just operated all the heavy machinery,” Tony says. Peter glares at him, but it’s so pathetic that Tony’s own stomach clenches in sympathy.

“You’re the adult-” Peter points out, feeble indignation in his voice before he cuts himself off with another round of heaving.

“Oh, Pete,” Tony sighs, stepping further into the bathroom at the sight. He lowers himself to the floor right next to Peter. A warm hand finds his back, rubbing in slow circles right at the base. A fraction of the tension leaves Peter’s body.

“You’re alright, bud” Tony soothes. His voice is gentle and calming, and Peter lets it wash over him. He’s always loved just listening to Tony talk. “You’ll feel so much better once it’s all back up.”

Peter finds that hard to believe because caught right in the throes of pain, shivering and feeling like a total and utter mess, he struggles to remember a time when he wasn’t wholly consumed by Morgan’s attempt to poison him.

There’s nothing left for Peter to bring up eventually, and he’s left gasping for air.

“Think you’re done?”

Peter nods, stomach still clenching painfully. He shoves himself away from the toilet, legs giving way underneath him as he slumps into a pile of shaky, sweaty limbs against the bathroom counter. This doesn’t seem to faze Tony though, and Peter watches through bleary eyes as he goes into Dad Mode. It all fades in and out in front of him, but he registers the corners of his mouth being wipes gently with a warm washcloth, the hair being brushes back from his sweaty forehead, a cool glass of water being tipped down his throat.

It was because of moments like this that after the snap, it took Peter a while to correlate his Tony with Morgan’s Tony.

His Tony had only ever cared from afar and he usually shied away from physical affection and comfort unless either of them were on their deathbeds. They always loved each other, but it was sort of a given. An undeniable fact with little physical expression. Now though? Morgan’s Tony tucks her into bed at night and smoothes kisses into her hair and lets her curl into his lap during lazy evenings on the couch with absolutely no reservations or qualms. He tells her he loves her at least five times a day.

It then took Peter even longer to realise that Morgan’s Tony wasn’t exclusively hers. He’s just Tony, softened around the edges a little with parenthood and settling down, but he’s Peter’s as well, still.

That’s evident in the way that instead of leaving Peter to his own devices once he’s taken care of him and cleaned up his mess, Tony just leads him gently downstairs instead, a warm solid hand wrapped around his forearm to make sure he doesn’t stumble forward and end up on his face.

Tony lies him down on the couch, before taking a seat himself. He lets Peter pillow himself against him, head buried into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Tony’s hands trail along their time-worn path in Peter’s hair, the action almost second nature.

“I’m never eating anything you make me ever again, I swear,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s chest. His words are quiet, scraping against the rawness of his throat but Tony hears him loud and clear. He chuckles.

“Fair enough, buddy.”

---

Peter’s nap is only interrupted when Morgan bursts into the room sometime in the afternoon. He blinks slowly from where he’s resting against Tony’s chest, head tucked up against his collarbone.

Morgan has a goody bag clutched in her grip and a few flyaway pink streamers caught in her hair. She beelines for the couch.

“Petey, Mommy said that I need to apologise for poisoning you!”

Peter feels a deep rumble in Tony’s chest as he attempts to stifle a laugh. He can’t quite muster up the energy (and he’s far too comfortable anyway) to get up from his position resting against Tony to hug Morgan, so he just gives her the warmest smile he can manage.

“It’s okay, bug, I know you didn’t mean to. I forgive you.”

She beams up at him. “There was one cookie pop left so I saved it for you, see?” she says, rattling her goody bag around, which Peter presumes contains the cursed treat. “They’re really good, I promise!”

Peter’s stomach churns again at the thought.

“That’s really nice of you, Mo, but I think I might give cookies a miss for a while.”

#ask #anon #irondad #irondad fic #i actually really like this i might crosspost it to ao3 later idk #also i wrote this on a plane and i never write in public usually so that was super weird but also kinda fun #my writing

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

Text

Day One - When in Vegas

Prompt: future!au

It’s cutting it close, but here is my first contribution to @spideychellemonth! I’m gonna try my darndest to keep up, but I’m so excited for this guys!!

This is potentially going to be multi-chapter, mostly because it was getting too long and I was having just TOO MANY IDEAS lmao Let me know what y’all think! This is also based off of an idea an anon sent me a week or so ago about a marriage pact!AU that i just LOVED the idea for

Basically, the 1.7k Waking Up Married in Vegas!AU nobody asked for pls enjoy! <3

Fuck.

It’s the first semi-coherent thought that pops into MJ’s head as she’s dragged into a sluggish state that can barely be described as consciousness. Her eyes, feeling as if they might fall right out of her skull, squeeze shut in an effort to stop the sun’s merciless assault. The groan that leaves her mouth as she turns away from the window is almost inhuman, her tongue heavy and dry, throat feeling as if she’d just swallowed barbed wire. If she moves too much, she’s sure whatever concoction of last night’s activities currently residing in her stomach are going to end up on the floor.

Three gin and tonics, two vanilla screwdrivers, and a few too many—who was counting, really?—shots of tequila seemed like an okay idea last night, at least past-MJ thought.

That was a problem for future-MJ.

Future-MJ hates past-MJ.

It was true, it was all true, she reflects as her stomach gurgles violently, lurching into the back of her throat.

It’s a simple explanation, really.

Over time, the enzymes required to metabolize all that booze have started to weaken, no longer breaking down toxins with the same vigor, leaving the elusive acetaldehyde to roam free.

In other words, she’s thirty.

Gone were the glory days where she could drink the night away and wake up with just a mild headache. The days where she could have as many different cocktails as her heart desired and not wake up feeling like death itself. The days where she could drink just one glass of pinot noir and not feel like an angry bull is stomping on his hippocampus.

But it had been Ned’s 30th, one of her best friends since high school, a real cause for celebration. They were in Vegas, for crying out loud. Sin City. What was she supposed to do?

Not drink?

(Well, yeah. That would have been ideal.)

But where was the fun in that?

Her hand brushes across her bare stomach, and she realizes with a small start that she’s naked.

She’s not sure if she’s ever been more confused.

Come to think of it, she’s not sure she even knows what happened last night. There’s flashes, very brief flashes of club music, Grey Goose, way too much glitter, and a lot of highly questionable, dumbass financial decisions involving slot machines and poker games.

She’s pretty sure she’s still alive, about 62%, but she’s also fairly certain that her brain has been replaced with cotton and sewing needles. An ache that starts right around her knees shoots up her spine, radiating throughout her body as she pulls the blanket tighter around her and buries her puffy face into the pillow.

When she realizes that any chance of sleep is gone for good, and that she can’t just will this splitting headache away with her own mind, she cracks an eye open. She immediately regrets that decision as soon as the harsh sunlight hits, shaking her head, throwing her arm out in some kind of half-assed effort to fight it off.

Her heart nearly stops when her hand hits something soft and warm next to her. She yanks her hand back, eyes shooting open to see someone—a man—face down in the mattress, head of chocolate brown waves turned away from her. A rather uncalled for heat swarms her body as her gaze drifts to his exposed back and lingers on the taut muscles there, drifting lower, the thin stop-sheet just barely covering the curve of his—

What the hell happened last night?

But dread starts to mix with the nausea gripping at her stomach as she realizes something about the naked mystery man in her bed.

She knows that curly mop of brown hair.

Immediately, she shoots up from the bed, gripping the sheet against her chest.

A big mistake.

The nausea finally wins the battle, and she runs to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up as she empties the toxic contents of her stomach into the toilet.

It’s a wonder Peter doesn’t wake up from her violent retching.

She forces out a harsh exhale as she flushes down the remnants of her night out, hand reaching out to grip the bathroom counter as she rises on shaky legs. She grabs the complimentary bathrobe—how fancy—and shrugs it on before turning to the sink to splash ice cold water onto her face.

And that’s when she sees it.

The gaudy, cheap, obviously fake rock sitting smugly on her left ring finger, staring right back at her slack-jawed expression.

What the fuck?!

It all comes back to her.

They’d been so, so incredibly dumb.

Both of them.

Peter looks stupid good.

He always has, of course, she wasn’t blind.

But his late-twenties seemed to have been incredibly kind to him. He still had that boyish charm she’d always secretly liked, but now… now there was just something about him, standing under these neon casino lights, wearing a plain black suit with a white tee underneath, that brought back years and years of repressed high school feelings.

Mutual feelings that neither of them ever acted on. Only joked about.

They would never have worked as a couple, they’d always say.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

So they both moved on. It was high school. They still had the rest of their lives ahead of them.

Plus, the risk of ruining their solid friendship was just too great.

So why, after nearly twelve years, is she having to actively fight back the stupid fluttering of butterflies when he so much as glanced in her general direction?

It makes no sense.

It isn’t like they haven’t seen each other since high school. Yeah, it’s been a few months since they last caught up, both of them being too busy with work and the like, but...

They were still friends—best friends, even.

She blames it on the second gin and tonic.

Yes, it’s the warm buzz of the alcohol running through her body that’s making her feel like she’s pretty damn close to walking on air.

And she chases that feeling, returning again and again to the bar—sometimes with Peter, himself—giving up on actually counting her drinks after the first shot of tequila.

Tequila was clearly not her friend in this case.

It could also have been the fact that she’s freshly single and she’s had to witness Ned and, now fiancèe Betty, making googly eyes at each other one too many times, and it’s entirely possible that she’s just feeling that creeping loneliness she’d tried so hard to stamp down.

She doesn’t know how they get here, maybe it’s somewhere between her second shot and her first screwdriver, but they’re alone in a booth in the corner. For the first time in a while, her liquid courage doesn’t help stave off the pressure of trying to come up with something cool to say, and she feels, once again, like she’s back in high school.

It’s an incredibly frustrating feeling.

Peter ducks as he sees Ned looking for him, MJ snickering as she watches the whole ordeal. Ned’s drunkenly leading this poor, unassuming casino patron around, glancing around frantically as he wanders from room to room.

Odds are it’s just another person to try and hook Peter up with.

Ned means well, he truly does, but frankly, Peter’s a little tired of the constant matchmaking. Yes, he’s been the perpetually single friend for a number of years now, but he seemed to be pretty content on his own.

And plus, he and MJ are having a pretty good time by themselves.

He doesn’t need anyone else.

“But, Pete,” MJ starts, words slurring ever-so-slightly, tone laced with sarcasm. “Everyone knows that being single in your thirties is one of the most shameful things in existence. It’s barbaric. You need to settle down, before it’s too late.”

He throws his head back, letting out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re right. My good years are gone.”

She tsks, shaking her head. “Past your prime.”

“I’ve truly peaked.” He tips his glass to her, before taking a drink.

A smirk tugs at her lips. “What will you do now?”

“Well...” He laughs lightly, casually stirring the glass in his hand. He looks up at her, eyes glazed over, tilting his head as he fixes her with a fond, teasing smile. “We still have that pact.”

Ah, yes.

The pact.

The pact that they’d made—as a joke—when they were sixteen.

It was simple.

If they were both single at thirty, they’d get married.

That was the deal.

They even shook on it.

But, official as that simple handshake was at the time for two hormonal teenagers, it wasn’t something that was ever in any universe supposed to be taken seriously.

Maybe it was just a ring, though. Maybe they didn’t get actually, legitimately, legally get married. They couldn’t have been that dumb.

Or maybe this was some sick hangover hallucination her brain made up as punishment for drinking too much.

The rest of the night is a blur, brief glimpses of drunken giggles, his hand in hers flashing through her mind. She vaguely remembers going somewhere outside the casino with him, stumbling through the streets as they pull each other along, bright lights dancing above them.

Balloons everywhere.

A corny chapel.

A Tony Stark impersonator.

Her expression is oddly calm, a contrast to the utter horror she feels in her gut as she stares at the sparkling ring on her finger.

This isn’t that bad, she thinks. This can all be over in a matter of hours.

An annulment was easy, right?

Right?

It’s not like they had sex or anything—

Wait, no, fuck, they did.

Did they…?

Again, the later part of the night is fuzzy.

Another wave of nausea crashes into her before she has a chance to be confused, and in an instant, she’s hunched over the toilet again.

And it’s while she’s puking her guts out, while she’s praying that the naked guy in her bed stays asleep where he’s supposed to be, does a boxer-clad-Peter step into the bathroom. He looks almost as wrecked as she is, his hair in wild disarray, bags under his eyes giving Gollum a run for his money.

He hesitates, knocking gently on the doorframe. “MJ—?” At first, he looks as though he’s about to ask her why she’s in his hotel room, but his expression crumples into one of worry when he sees how sick she is. “Are you okay?”

She scoffs and gives him a weak glance over her shoulder, ready to throw a biting, sarcastic remark back at him, when she sees the way the color drains from his face.

He’s frozen in place, eyes wide, and she hesitantly follows his gaze, right onto that big, fake diamond on her finger.

Fuck.

#spideychelle #petermj #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #spiderman #spider-man #vegas!au #spideychellemonth2k19 #woooooo #celebrate!!!#part 2???#eh???

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trophywifejimgordon · 4 years

Text

the ghostbusters + books

if print is dead, fiction doesn’t even EXIST anymore in egon’s world. even when he was a kid, he never read novels, as he couldn’t fathom why someone would want to spend time reading about something that wasn’t real. as an adult, most of his reading is made up of online transcripts of current academic journals, though he’s definitely not too immersed in tech to be above spending hours in the dusty library archives.

if he absolutely had to pick a fiction genre, it’d be speculative fiction, but only theoretically–in practice, he can’t stand the hand waved or otherwise entirely made up “scientific” methods employed in these novels.

the one exception he will make is for mary shelley’s frankenstein–the skipping over of the actual technique victor used to raise the dead irritates him, but he appreciates its place as a classical ode to human achievement past the realm of the morally sound, and besides, it played a heavy role in his decision to run a… not dissimilar experiment at NYU.

his parents, who discouraged all pleasure reading, punished him severely for the copy of the book he sneaked back to his room, and would later blame shelley for leading egon down the path that eventually took him to ghostbusting.

peter reads whatever’s popular–fiction and nonfiction bestsellers line his bookcase. he claims it’s because he’s more interested in knowing what draws the american public to the books than in the books themselves, and likes to concoct elaborate and negative conclusions to this effect… but maybe deep down, he just likes things that are popular. outside of that, peter also reads all the major psychology journals (when no one is around–he can’t let anyone know he takes this shit seriously) and, more gleefully, a wide array of harlequin romances.

between the job, night school, and, well, everything else, winston doesn’t have a lot of time to do fiction reading these days, but when he does get some downtime, he really enjoys a good mystery. this particularly extends to political thrillers and spy novels–he’s got a shelf of beat up favorites that he comes back to when he really needs to unwind.

as i see it, he doesn’t really have a favorite book so much as he has favorite authors; clive cussler is coming to mind.

ray actually feels the same way as egon does re: speculative fiction, but unlike egon, he’s more than alright with other genres. in particular, ray loves fantasy, the wilder the better–when he sits down to read a novel, he wants something completely detached from reality… not that it stops him from wanting to make real life that much more fantastic when it’s through.

the one exception to his aversion to scifi is star wars, which he loves implicitly (justifiable since it’s hardly scifi, anyway). he’s read every book in he extended universe, and has very concrete opinions on mara jade.

you know those bodice rippers i mentioned peter enjoying? those are janine’s favorites. shes unironically dreamed of herself as one of the heroines in the trashiest of her books since high school, and there’s nothing she longs for more than a muscular hunk to sweep her off her feet and into the sunset.

outside of that, janine is the most well-read of any of them in the fiction department–when she gets home at night, she enjoys curling up with a nice paperback from any genre and reading until her eyes droop closed.

i’ve talked about this before in a separate post, but i love the idea of janine and winston having a book club where they support each other through through dry, jargon-heavy tomes on parapsychology in an effort to play “catch up” and have a snowball’s chance in hell at understanding what the other three are talking about all the damn time.

when winston finally gets his PhD, janine pretends to be mad at him for “betraying their club,” but really, she was the one who often stuck around the firehouse with him, brewing coffee and reading her paperbacks while he poured over dense law textbooks, and she couldn’t be more proud.

i feel like, when he was a kid, books were a big coping mechanism for venkman. he spent a lot of time at the library just because it was free to be there and it wasn’t home, but with time this sparked a genuine love for reading that became his main form of escapism up through high school. even as an adult, he’ll sometimes lock himself in his apartment and fly through his to-read pile when he really needs to withdraw from himself.

back when they were in college, venkman had a running joke where he would describe the plot of a bad scifi novel to spengler as if it were the contents of a recent academic paper he read, just to get a good laugh out of his reaction. this escalated to the point of venkman actually fabricating a few of these so-called academic papers and spengler going so far as to write scathing responses with full intent to publish before ray finally stepped in and told him what was going on. peter had to hide out for a week to escape spengs’s wrath after that.

when he was a child, people who didn’t know egon (distant relatives, school peers forced by their parents to be nice to him despite a mutual distaste for one another, etc) would usually give him children’s books for birthdays or other special occasions, mistaking his academic disposition for bookishness. he never made an attempt to hide his displeasure with these gifts, and often used the pages as a part of some new science experiment.

think “paper mache baking soda volcano on crack,” and that’s what happened to a copy of charlie and the chocolate factory gifted to him by a well meaning great aunt.

the first job ray ever really saw for himself was becoming an author, a path that always sort of lingered at the back of his mind. opening ray’s occult was definitely tied to his lifelong fondness for books, but the real kicker came years later, when he published a successful young adult series drawing on his parapsychological knowledge after retiring from ghostbusters.

if you asked him, peter would list freud’s the interpretation of dreams as his favorite book. in reality, it’s jane eyre–don’t ask.

when janine was in high school, she spent many nights kicked back in the backseat of a friend’s car, reading a trashy paperback bought at a gas station while the others in her group got into more delinquent activities. even when they were skipping school or going road tripping, she always had a book for the ride. (looking back, she considers these nights some of the best of her life.)

winston has a great voice for reading out loud. some of his fondest memories of growing up were his mother tucking him into bed and reading him whatever she felt like: kid’s books, adult books, passages from her devotionals and from the bible. this became a tradition he passed on to his younger siblings, and looks forward to sharing with his own kids.

cliched though it might be, ray’s favorite book series is lord of the rings. (he was always especially interested in frodo and sam’s relationship… for no reason in particular, of course.) he amends this by clarifying that while there are fantasy series he likes more, he feels that lotr built the house the later authors were just living in, and he has to pay his dues.

of all the ghostbusters, though peter has been threatening to do it nearly constantly since world of the psychic got greenlit, janine is the one who ends up publishing a memoir about her time with the company. they all read it, and everyone is honestly blown away by how talented she is at writing, a skill they never really knew she possessed. janine takes this all in stride, but secretly, hearing their compliments means even more to her than the acclaim she’s receiving for the work :’)

#ghostbusters #peter venkman #winston zeddemore #ray stantz #egon spengler #janine melnitz #the fun thing about these is that some of them are thinly veiled angst fodder #(peter using books for escapist purposes and egon being raised in an environment where he couldn't bring home frankenstein)#some of them are about gay rights (ray liking sam/frodo and having strong implicitly negative feelings about luke's forced het romance)#and some of them are legit just me sitting down in front of my computer at 3:08 in the afternoon and typing #'i think the character winston zeddemore from hit classic ghostbusters (1984) would like clive cussler novels :/'#and there's nothing you can do about it #the genesis of this post was that i work at a bookstore and this is legitimately what i think about all day #text post

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main-to-card-games-and-pain · 5 years

Text

Like A Strike of Lightning

I actually had so much fun writing this. It’s my first IronDad story ever (first Marvel for that matter, as well), so please tell me what you guys think of it. :) I’m new to the Tumblr scene, so if anyone has any tips for me please share them, I’m already loving this site, it’s such an open and accepting community.

Rhodey watched as Tony added his third spoon of sugar into the coffee with an incredulous eyebrow.

“Tones.” No answer. “Hey, Tones!”

The engineer blinked a few times and focused his eyes onto Rhodey with a disgruntled sigh.

“You don’t take sugar in your coffee dude,” Rhodey reminded the literal mess of a human being he’d chosen as his best friend. Tony blinked a few more times before falling into his regular casual suave.

“I know how I take my coffee Rhodes, but I’m flattered you pay such acute attention to my actions. I’m trying new things, broadening my horizons, discovering a new age-”

“Not sleeping in favour of staying downstairs all hours of the night?”

“And maybe a bit of that too, yeah,” Tony admitted sheepishly, his impish grin never fading.

Rhodey shook his head fondly despite his ever-concerned eyes doing a once-over over Tony’s whole body. He looked…fine; better than he’d seen him before, (which wasn’t saying much,) but worse than he’d looked in the past month or so.

He didn’t smell like booze, he rarely had since Peter had started to come over on an almost daily basis (bubbly, and kind and alive), and he looked surprisingly well fed, so Rhodey decided he had no need for his Stern Rhodey to make an appearance today. This was just normal Tony stuff, as soon as his next project was finished he’d sleep for a day and be right as rain again.

“Take care of yourself, man. You’re a frickin nuisance to look after sometimes.” The colonel said this with all the fondness in his heart.

“But I’m your nuisance, Honeybear!” Tony called behind his back, scooping up his coffee mug and walking out of the kitchen.

Rhodey rolled his eyes and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tony, stop being a child and get your butt to this meeting.” Pepper was furiously whispering into the phone, her fingers stiff against the cell in frustration.

“Pep, I could, but I really don’t want to. I have important business at the lab.”

“What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than meeting with the most prominent potential investor of the new medical research facility?”

“A lot of things, I’m Tony Stark; genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist.” Pepper rolled her eyes, she honestly didn’t get paid enough to deal with this.

“Playboy? Really?”

“You can take the player out of the game, but you can’t take the game out of the player.”

She scoffed, “Well, unless you get here in the next five minutes, Hugh Hefner, you can have dinner alone tonight. Do not ruin this opportunity for the company, Tony.” She hung up before her stupid fiancé could reply.

Tony, to his credit, did show up to the meeting. He even had a bouquet of flowers to offer Pepper upon his arrival. This time, Pepper scoffed in appreciation.

“How did you get these so fast?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” he pecked her on the cheek before taking his place at the head of the table, “I’m sorry for my tardiness, gentlemen, let’s get this over with shall we?”

Pepper made a face, surprised. Tony must have realized how paper-fucking-thin the ice he was walking on was. Or he wanted to score tonight.

Both sounded a bit like Tony, but ice doesn’t harden that fast.

Happy was going to regret asking but, “Hey, Tony, you’re uh- you’re in the back of the car.”

The billionaire looked down at his seat and then back up to the bodyguard, as if just now realizing his position.

“I am, yes.”

“Is there a reason…?”

“Well, you’re my driver, aren’t you? I think driving’s your job Bud.”

Happy couldn’t contain the surprised grunt he let out, Tony never let him drive (except when the kid was in the car). Even when he was his driver, which was pretty annoying to be honest. Now that he was officially not the driver anymore, Tony wants to be a passenger? That was also pretty annoying, which is why Tony was doing it, Happy was pretty sure. Well, he wouldn’t let him win at this little game. If Tony Stark wanted to sit in the back like a proper snob he could do so at his leisure.

“O-okay… That’s new, but sure. And I’m your Head of Security, not your driver.”

“Same difference.” Happy huffed in annoyance and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Want me to pick up the kid?” Happy asked nonchalantly, already getting ready to put the signal on and pull to the right to exit to Midtown.

“Nah, this is a grown-up type of excursion I think, Haps.”

Happy almost crashed the car. Since when did Tony ever not want to be with Peter? Any chance he got he was spending time with the high-schooler.

“You sure…? We’re just going to the shipyard aren’t we?”

“Yeah, it’s not my day today anyways, right?”

Happy chuckled, “‘Your day?’ What, you get formal custody of him?”

“Keep wisecracking and I’ll be in a different type of custody real soon Old Boy, shut up and drive.”

Tony smirked into his hand, shaking his head as if offended. Happy knew he meant no harm, he never does. And ever since he’d started letting the kid spend a bit more time with him he’d been generally better natured. It was nice to see him happy.

Happy put his hands up defensively, appeasing Tony with the silence. The billionaire slouched against the leather of his seat, massaging his temples gently and sighing. Serves him right getting a headache; follies of fatherhood. He chuckled again, unbeknownst to the man in the back.

Secretly, in a deep dark corner of Happy’s heart, he kind of wished they were going to pick up Peter. He was kind of warming up to his company. Not that he’d ever admit that.

The alleged ‘Tony’s Day’ came along, as it did every Friday through Monday, unofficial as it may be. That meant Happy was spared the task of picking Peter up from school, as Tony enjoyed doing that himself.

At exactly 3:16 pm, just as it was every other week they’d done this, Peter bounced towards the black Bentley, curls pushed from his face with the breeze and his excitement. In a whirlwind of limbs and a backpack and a flurry of curls and essays and just Peter, he was in the car.

“Hi Mr.Stark, I got an A on my essay in Philosophy, look!” Baby browns met Tony’s dark chocolate eyes, excited and trusting.

“That’s great Peter, mind shutting the car door?”

“Oh… sure,” Peter’s volume died, his face crumpling in rejection that Tony couldn’t place. The teen reached out the car and pulled the door closed.

Tony and Peter had a routine. When Peter got into the car he had to tell his mentor one good thing he’d achieved that day. Sometimes it was big things, like an A on an essay, sometimes it was small, like he’d been called on in class and had answered perfectly. (Tony knew that it helped with Peter’s anxiety, but never explicitly said that that was the reason he’d made the rule.) With big things, Tony was supposed to reach across and ‘close the car door’ like he had right after Germany.

They were always ‘not there yet’ (except they totally were and Tony did it to hug Peter).

The car pulled away from the school and started its descent back towards the Tower. It was relatively silent for a few moments, Peter kept glancing at Tony.

“So what do you want to do when we get back to the tower, kid?”

“We aren’t going to pick something up to eat?” Peter’s eyes didn’t look as trusting anymore.

“Of course we are, I meant after that, unless you want to play a game of roulette with my cooking?”

The kid huffed out a laugh and shook his head, feigning casualness while tensing up. “I would rather play roulette with a Russian, you can’t even call what you cook food.”

“So that settles it, where we going Peter?”

Peter watched as Tony’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He hadn’t blasted AC/DC either, and forgot about the food, and the hug, and he never called Peter by his actual name.

Something was wrong. Peter felt a jolt of his Ned-named Spidey-sense trigger the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Tony just felt wrong.

“Actually… I totally spaced Mr.Stark, and forgot that my aunt wants me home tonight. Her night-shift got moved to Monday, and she won’t be able to see me until then so she meant to call you and ask if we can change dates. I’m so sorry I forgot, Mr.Stark, you can just pull over and I’ll walk it.”

Tony’s grip tightened again, his jaw clenched and under the sunglasses Peter saw his eyes harden.

“You don’t want to come over?”

“No, I do!” Peter assured, his eyes widening and voice hitching up a semi-tone. “Just, we can hang out another day, right?”

“Something wrong Peter?”

The superhero flinched at the name, it just sounded so harsh and wrong coming out of Mr.Stark’s mouth. He only called him Peter when he was angry or worried.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbled in reply, “Are you feeling okay Mr.Stark?”

“I’m fine kid, just worried about you, you’re acting a bit weird.”

Peter knew something was wrong with the mechanic, he felt it. This just… wasn’t Tony. He knew it was horrible and he knew he shouldn’t, just on the chance that he was just having a panic attack or something, but he could feel it.

“Mr.Stark… I don’t feel so good.” The man didn’t even twitch.

Once, after the Snap had been undone, Peter had said it right before he was going to hurl. It was a stupid stomach flu, and he didn’t think of the last time he’d said that phrase until Tony had lost all the blood in his face and his eyes had gone all wide and haunted. He made sure he never said it again.

This wasn’t Tony. Holyshitholyshitholyshit he needed to get out of here.

“Pull over,” the boy demanded, fear beginning to tinge his voice. “Pull over, now, I don’t feel good.”

“Yeah, you don’t look so good, you can rest in the tower.”

“N-no, just pull over, I want to go to the apartment. May’s there, she wants me home anyways.”

“You sure, kiddo?” Peter might have been slightly reassured by the nickname, if he didn’t feel the metal of a repulser digging into his side. Tony was wearing his gauntlet, poised and ready to fire into Peter’s gut at any moment.

It’d started a week ago.

Tony heard an alarm go off upstairs; nothing major, just some motion sensors that were supposed to detect anything larger than a sizeable rat.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s up there girl?” The mechanic stopped his tinkering to listen to her reply, wiping the sweat from his brow heavily.

“I do not have a camera positioned in a place where I can determine what the life form is. From heat signatures I would guess that it was from Earth.”

“Thanks Fri, real big help.”

“I might remind you that it was not I who placed the cameras,” the AI retorted, causing the faintest of smiles to grace Tony’s lips. “I can send someone from maintenance to check it out, if you wish.”

“Nah,” Tony threw down his tools, “I think I’ll just pop up and see for myself. There’s only so many times you can replace a parachute before it gets a bit boring.”

The billionaire strolled through the hallways, tone casual as he chatted with his AI.

“Perhaps if Mr.Parker would refrain from falling from such large heights on such a regular basis, the task would not seem so mundane.”

“If I could get the kid to stop trying to make a Spider-Pancake I would Fri, now lets go see what’s been tripping those pesky sensors.”

The mechanic threw the door to the roof open, taking a deep breath of the fresh air and Manhattan lights. The darkness shrouded all of the corners on the roof, leaving Tony to squint past the dim glow of the lights around him.

“Man, I really hope you’re just a particularly talented racoon,” he mumbled to himself. Something rustled behind a ventilation opening, catching the man’s attention. “Well, screw your courage to the sticking place, right? That worked out for Macbeth…” `

Tony took a breath and inched forward, letting the door shut behind him with a slam.

“Why am I afraid to check on this? I’m an Avenger, I can deal with a racoon.” He punctuated his statement by confidently striding forward towards the sound, only to jump two feet in the air when something banged against the ventilation. A large owl fluttered its wings and took to the sky, completely uncaring of the shaken inventor it left behind. “Bloody owls,” said inventor huffed, turning back towards the door.

He didn’t notice the thick black smog that had begun to roll towards him. Like a snake striking its pray, the smoke attacked.

It filled Tony’s eyes, mouth, ears, nose; his eyes widened in panic and he went to scream, only to find he couldn’t draw in any air. The smoke was suffocating him, smothering and invading him. It was unlike any pain he’d ever experienced before, profoundly physical but also excruciatingly mental.

His memories were this thing’s to play with, and it was tearing his brain in half.

Flashes of his happiest moments, Pepper smiling as she presented him his own gifted arc reactor, Rhodey smacking his arm playfully while the two of them trained together, his mother, singing gently to him, they were running at breakneck speeds in front of his eyes and this thing was tainting them. Tony could feel it, like it was rubbing its evil all over his memories and taking them for itself.

It was absolute agony.

Then, the flash of a dimpled smile appeared, followed by a childlike laugh and the sound of tools as they tinkered with a suit.

No! You don’t get those! They’re mine, you can’t touch them! He screamed in his mind, clutching his fingertips into his hair as the smoke continued coming, coming, coming, invading his body without relent.

But the mind and body can only fight for so long, and this was a fight that even Iron Man couldn’t win.

When the man lost consciousness the only thing he could be glad about was a reprieve from the pain.

When Tony woke up he couldn’t move.

This, in itself, is a startling way to start your day, but what made it worse was his complete lack of ability to speak, or even open his eyes. What’s more, there was an awful pounding in his head, like a pressure that wouldn’t let up, a presence in his head that was as disturbing as it was powerful.

Don’t fight me, Stark. You belong to me now.

Tony would have gasped had he had control of his body. He couldn’t even quicken his breathing, try as he might to stave off panic, for his body wouldn’t respond.

I control your entire being, Stark, this will all be much easier if you just concede to my power.

What have you done to me?

I claimed you. You’re mine now; all you’ll be able to do from now on is watch as I live your life.

Why are you doing this?

Too many questions; I’d like you to be quiet now.

You can fuck right off if you think I’m going to take this without a fight. You can’t just invade somebody’s body and expect them-

Tony, do be quiet. I’d hate to have to do something drastic. You’ve got a cute little fiancée, what was her name? Pepper?

Don’t you touch her-

It wouldn’t be me, Tony, it would be you. Shame if anything happened to her.

Tony mentally thrashed against the creature’s hold, but found there was no give in its control.

Calm down Stark. I won’t do anything, so long as you sit down and shut up.

Disgusted with himself, Tony Stark complied.

I’ve seen your memories, I will adopt how you act and speak. No one will know about me being here, they will think I am you.

They’ll notice; my friends, Pepper…

Will they?

“You’re a frickin nuisance to look after sometimes.” Rhodey, I’m here, that isn’t me! You’ve known me since college buddy, c’mon, notice something isn’t okay!

Shut up Stark.

“But I’m your nuisance Honeybear!”

Rhodey, please. Please, help me.

The trapped superhero felt his captor’s satisfaction at his pleading, like it spurred it on, like it enjoyed his cries.

“Want me to pick up the kid?” No, no, no, no, no, please, we don’t need to get Peter.

Are you sure? I’d rather like to meet this young one for myself… You’ve been surprisingly resistant about letting me see him in your memories. If you won’t let me know him I’ll just have to meet him myself, right?

Tony had long since succumbed to his fate, long had he stopped trying to get his family to notice something was amiss with the inventor. Now he pled for small mercies from this thing, like keeping Peter far away from it.

I get him every Friday through the weekend, please, don’t.

There was silence and Tony felt his conscious heart beat faster. (He’d discovered around Day Three that even though his actual body wasn’t reacting as he did, his conscious remembered fear, and remembered how it felt.)

“Nah, this is a grown-up type of excursion I think, Haps.” Thank you.

You can’t keep him from me forever.

Admittedly, since this thing had taken him Tony had been scared. But, on Friday afternoon he was terrified.

He kept watching the clock as it inched closer and closer to 3:16.

Right on time, like always, Peter was there. Tony could feel the thing’s elation.

I’m anxious to meet your son.

He isn’t my son.

Blood doesn’t matter to me.

“Hi Mr.Stark, I got an A on my essay in Philosophy, look!” That’s great Bud, I knew you had that one down.

“That’s great Peter, mind shutting the door?”

Tony saw the disappointment, saw the hurt in Peter’s eyes and heard it in his voice. It hurt, almost as much as when he lost him. (He was losing him again.)

Cute kid.

You don’t know him. You don’t know the half of it.

Tony could barely hear what the thing and Peter were saying, he was so focussed on Peter’s face. He watched his kid like he’d never seen him before.

His eyes shifted, he was scared; could he… tell?

Sure, there were little things the creature was getting wrong, but no one else had noticed. Everyone had put it off as Tony going through a weird patch, but Peter never looked at Tony the way he was now.

Then he tried to leave.

Tony could feel his captor’s anger. It terrified him.

What have you done to make him afraid of me?

I haven’t done anything! You would know if I had.

You’ve shrouded the child from me; how do I know there is not something you have done?

The creature sent a jolt of pain through Tony’s mind causing the man to scream out in agony. He ‘breathed’ in and out, trying to control the lingering flashes of pain.

“Are you feeling okay Mr.Stark?” God, Peter, jump out of the car if you don’t feel safe, please.

“I’m fine kid, just worried about you, you’re acting a bit weird.”

“Mr.Stark… I don’t feel so good.” The sentence hit Tony like a truck, and it sickened him that he could feel the creature’s indifference because how can he possibly be so unaffected when Tony lost everything in that moment?

But when the creature didn’t react Tony saw the panic settle in his eyes. He knows.

“Pull over. Pull over, now, I don’t feel good.”

Let him go. Please, he does this sometimes, just pull over.

He knows. He is going to be a thorn in my side; I will deal with him.

“Yeah, you don’t look so good, you can rest at the tower.”

“N-no, just pull over, I want to go to the apartment. May’s there, she wants me home anyways.”

“You sure, kiddo?” Tony realized the repulser was out the same time Peter did. No! His voice was thick with desperation, guttural and instinctive. No, don’t hurt him, please don’t!

Keep annoying me and I’ll blend his insides.

“You’re not Mr.Stark.” Clever kid Stark, it’s too bad I’ll have to kill him when this is over.

Tony fought harder than he’d ever fought the control. His begging had descended into inarticulate howls.

“He’s here, like an annoying wasp in my ear most of the time, but nevertheless here. An unfortunate side effect of my occupancy, I’m afraid, is that I can never shut my host up. But I’m sure I don’t need to remind him what I’ll do if he doesn’t quiet down.” Not-Tony hissed and dug the repulser further into Peter’s side, letting the nanites form a small blade. It cut the teen, the dotting of blood beginning to show through his school shirt like blooming rose petals.

Stop hurting him! I’ll be quiet! Please stop!

Shut up.

…

“Blessed mercies, he’s quiet.”

“What did you do to him?” Peter’s voice was tight and angry as he watched whatever this monster was control his mentor’s body.

It looked like him, sounded like him, but it was so very not Mr.Stark that Peter was sure this experience and all the other’s he’d had with Mr.Stark wouldn’t cross themselves in his mind at all.

“You humans are a fickle bunch; it doesn’t take much for me to get into your vulnerable minds but once I’m there, God help me if I try and make it my own. You all just stay there, yelling at me. I wanted this body for myself; I took it, but I can’t have all of it. Your ‘Mr.Stark’ hid you from me, as much as he could.”

Peter ignored the tirade, focussing instead on the passing buildings from the car window. The sun was blaring down at him and the buildings were passing by in a blur. Like a slap in the face Peter suddenly realized- They were leaving the city.

“Where are you taking me?”

“That isn’t your concern. Tony needs to make a phone call now, and you’re going to do your part in it.” Peter glared at the man. “I don’t even need to threaten you do I? Because all it takes is this,” Tony took the repulser away from Peter’s side and put it against his own, “and you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Even the creature noticed the shift in the boy, how his expression changed from anger to fear. Peter nodded stiffly. “I won’t do anything.”

Tony nodded, pressing the button on the steering wheel to make a call. The dial tone rang twice before Ms.Pott’s voice filled the car. “Tony? What’s up, I thought you were picking Peter up from school?”

“Hi Babe, yeah, I picked him up but we’re not going to go back to the tower, gonna spend a little mentor-mentee bonding time.”

“Oh, alright. I’ll see you later tonight then, hi Peter!”

Peter went to answer but found the words stuck in his throat, he cleared the blockage and answered in a squeak. “Hi Ms.Pott’s!”

She chuckled and replied, “I’ll see you two later, don’t burn the city down.”

The phone call clicked off and so did Peter’s last chance of communication.

“Can I talk to Mr.Stark?”

“No. If it is any comfort to you, know that he is being more of a nuisance than usual because you are here.”

The blade had returned to Peter’s side, cold and threatening. Peter assumed Mr.Stark was saying something. His Spidey-senses flared again, getting dangerously close to a sensory overload.

There were so few cars on the road now, this creature had taken them onto some industrial backroad, and it made Peter nervous. The sun was beginning to set by now, Peter hadn’t realized hours had gone by. Everything pointed to the terrifying realization that this thing wasn’t planning on letting Peter go.

It must have shown on his face because Not-Tony smirked at him, “You must understand why I cannot let you go, you would ruin everything.” Something flickered on his face, just for a moment, but Peter saw it. He could only pray that it was Mr.Stark.

“Mr.Stark?” The teenager hated how afraid and how young he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. “Mr.Stark I know you’re in there, please, fight it.”

The blade dug further into his side, “Shut up kid, you are making him agitate me.”

“Please,” a tear fell onto Peter’s cheek, surprising the young hero. “Please Mr.Stark, I know you can do it…”

But he didn’t, not really. Peter trusted Tony unconditionally, loved him like a son loved a father, but he didn’t know if it was even possible to shake whatever this was off; plus, it may be too late if he does.

“But if you can’t, just - just remember that I don’t blame you, okay? This isn’t you.” He shuttered in a shaky breath, eyes filling with unshed tears again. “Thank you for bringing me back, and for being the best, well, everything I could I ask for. I love you.”

And that was it, because the tingling had become full on tremors of danger reception, and it hurt, and it meant something was coming.

“That’s enough of that, time’s up ki-” Peter watched half in horror half in hope as Tony’s face scrunched up in pain and he grunted, after a few pained breaths the man looked up and Peter almost cried because it was familiar. “Peter?”

“Mr.Stark!” Peter gasped in relief, shifting towards his mentor excitedly. “I knew you could do it-”

Tony grunted in pain, yelling in frustration as he began to lose control.

“Peter, Peter, baby,” his voice was rushed but gentle, “I’m go-going to undo your seatbelt Bud, okay? And then when I slow the car down you’re going to jump out and run as fast as those spider legs can take you okay? I nee-need you to do this, I don’t have much time.” Tony’s frantic fingers clicked the release of his kid’s seatbelt, while Peter pulled the lock of the car door, nodding numbly.

The car gave a sudden jerk as Tony lost control, the billionaire’s arm flailed and sliced deeply into the teen’s side. Peter wailed in surprise and pain, watching with wide eyes as the bed of rose petals quickly became solid red.

No! Kid! I’m so sorry… Jesus Christ, he’s a child!

I am ending this now.

No! I am begging you. Please!

Now that he knew it was possible Tony Stark fought like mad to take over his body’s movements. He was flashing in and out of control, in absolute agony the entire time. His body was yelling in pain, jerking like a madman as the two fought for control.

Peter was clutching his side, hissing through the pain. “Mr.Stark?”

The man slammed his foot onto the brake.

Peter, having no seatbelt on, went through the windshield.

“Peter!”

Tony was wrong.

When he had first been attacked by this thing he had thought that there was no worse pain than that; he was wrong.

This, this, right now, was worse than anything he could have imagined. Seeing his - god dammit - his kid go through the windshield and knowing it was his own fucking fault because he was the one who’d undone Peter’s seatbelt.

It may have been the creature in control when the brake was hit, but if he was dead it was Tony’s fault.

How could you? Let me go to him.

There is no point in that.

The thing sounded so pleased with itself. Tony was crying, a profound spiritual pain radiating through his core. He wailed, because he could see Peter on the side of the road, and he wasn’t moving.

He looked so broken.

No! You know what? Fuck this and fuck you, that is my kid and you hurt him. I am done with this. I have been controlled my whole life asshole, I am not letting you control me anymore. Not when my kid is at stake.

And Tony fought. He fought through the pain the creature sent his way, and the muscle spasms, and even when he felt himself regain control of his body’s movements he kept fighting. He fought until he felt himself retching, mouthful after mouthful of the black smog pouring away.

His body was verging on collapse, like it had when it’d taken him, but he had to be stronger this time, because this was Peter they were betting.

Like the crack of lightning, it stopped.

Tony was left clutching the steering wheel of the Bentley, breaths coming heavy, and the dull memories of the pain seeping into his bones.

He won.

But he only basked in it for a moment before he was scrambling out of the car. He hit the pavement on all fours, making a mad dash for the prone form sprawled against the pavement.

Tony crashed to the ground beside him, taking in all the injuries. Peter’s face was a bruised and bleeding mess, his side sodden with his blood, and his chest was just a black splotch. He broke ribs when he went through the windshield; he could be bleeding internally. Cuts littered the entirety of his body, and Tony knew from experience that Peter would have severe road burn if he turned him over.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Tony sounded lost. He didn’t know what to do. “Please tell me you have help on the way.”

“Approximate time of arrival is 15 minutes sir,” the AI replied.

“That isn’t fast enough!” The mechanic cried, pulling the teenager into his arms. “Hey Petey, you’ve got to wake up now. C’mon, wake up.” There was blood everywhere. Tony desperately pressed his hand against the wound in Peter’s side, he didn’t even twitch. “You’ve gotta use those superpowers now Bud, show me how amazing you are at healing yourself. Show me your eyes, just please, show me something.”

Some of the bruising was fading already, that had to be a good sign, right? He was so small.

Tony could hear the sound of a suit coming towards them. “Hear that kid? That’s help, they’re going to fix you up so you’re perfect again alright? And then you can tell me about that Philosophy paper yeah? I’m so proud that you got an A, but I’m not surprised at all. You’re so smart Peter, please.”

“Tony.” Heavy footfalls followed the colonel’s concerned voice as he ran to the pair.

“Rhodey, please! He needs help…” Tony had long passed the mark of sobbing. He offered the boy in his arms to his best friend, looking up at him with all the trust in the world that he could save him.

“Okay, alright, we need to get you help too though, alright?”

“No, just him, just take him.”

“Tony I need to make sure you’re sa-”

“He’s dying Rhodey, I’m okay, but he’s running out of time! Take him and stop wasting the precious few minutes we have!”

Rhodey looked conflicted until his military instincts kicked in and he nodded tersely. “Okay, but another suit is on its way I want you back and in the Medbay as soon as possible, got it?”

Tony nodded, exhausted. Rhodey cradled his package gently and launched himself back into the air. Tony nearly sobbed with relief because it was finally over.

When the suit came, it was encasing an unconscious man.

When Peter woke up he was warm, and his blankets were soft, and a weight had settled against his arm and it soothed him even more.

Medbay his brain supplied.

He hadn’t been in here for a while, was probably some kind of record.

The weight on his arm shifted, and Peter realized it was a person. In fact, it was Mr.Stark. The events of the past few hours came back to him in a flash and involuntarily he jerked up with a gasp.

Mr.Stark was immediately awake, carding his hands through his hair and making shushing noises. This left Peter deeply confused.

“M’ster Stark?” He grumbled, letting his head lull into his hand.

“Oh, hey Petey, you’re awake this time.” The hand stopped, but didn’t remove itself from his hair. Peter liked it, it made him feel safe.

“Mm?” Mr.Stark knew what he meant.

“You were really hurt kid, you’ve been sleeping for the past two days.” Peter could hear the guilt in his mentor’s voice, the self-loathing and the worry.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you are now Buddy. Your healing factor did a lot of the work for us, and Dr.Cho did the rest.”

“Car.” Pain flashed over Tony’s face, Peter didn’t mean to do that. The hand removed itself from his hair, the teen instantly missed it.

“God, I’m so sorry Peter. I never should have- Christ.”

“Not your fault.”

“I took off your seatbelt; I was so stupid.”

“Trynna save me. You always take care of me,” Peter’s voice was drugged and mumbly but he knew the inventor could understand him.

“Doing a piss-poor job of it, but I’ll keep trying. You saved me though, undoubtedly. You’re the only one who noticed something was up.”

Peter smiled and Tony almost teared up, “Not Mr.Stark, Mr.Stark doesn’t forget food.”

“No, I don’t Buddy,” Tony chuckled, “You should rest. I’ll see you later, alright?”

Tony was about to turn his back on the hospital bed when a hand clasped his suddenly.

“Never got to tell you about m’essay.” Tony heard the statement for what it was, Peter asking him to stay.

“Oh yeah, I heard you got an A, I’m proud of you. Why don’t you tell me about it?” Tony reclaimed his chair beside Peter’s bed, not letting go of his hand.

Peter smiled, relaxing back into the sheets, “The topic was on if death was evil, so I said for my thesis…”

tag list: @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @ur-a-lizard-hairy @enter-the-melon @miraculous-mermaid03 @baloobird

#iron dad #protective tony stark #precious peter parker #hurt peter parker #mind control #whump #angst #blood #fanfiction #not starker #tony is a good dad #what is quality? not this lol #mostly dialogue #tony stark #peter parker

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