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assdiscourse · 5 years

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IronDad Bingo (1): Hibernation

Note: I saw this challenge and decided to do it but idk who made it or like if I’m supposed to credit someone for the board cause I just chose a random one so lemme know whuddup with that and ENJOY! (also this isn’t beta read because im 19 nd dunno how to fukin read)

Peter didn’t realise how screwed he was until he tried to stand up from the couch to go grab his phone from his backpack, which he had haphazardly thrown aside somewhere near the entrance of the penthouse along with his jacket upon arrival, and then just- couldn’t.

Come to think of it, he had been steadily feeling more and more worn out the closer he got to the Tower. The minute he stepped in, it was almost as if the air was heavier, weighing him down and making it harder to walk. He had just chalked that up to being drained from school; after three tests, having to listen to all the chatter about the Winter Formal coming up, and of course, Flash being Flash, it had seemed reasonable to believe that it was just all of that catching up to him.

But then again, the tests had been really easy considering how far ahead he was from the school’s curriculum thanks to Mr. Stark’s vast collection of books on almost every topic Peter has ever been curious about, and his generosity in letting Peter ‘borrow’ them whenever he wanted and annotate the hell out of them until they just about doubled in width with the amount of sticky notes he stuffed in there and found a home on his desk back at the apartment rather than untouched in Mr. Stark’s library since he preferred the convenience of reading on his screens, unlike Peter, who loved the heavy weight of a book in his hands.

The Winter Formal was another potential stressor but honestly, ever since the Homecoming fiasco, Peter has felt pretty much unattached to school dances. He would go if Ned or MJ wanted to go, although the latter was less likely, but otherwise he couldn’t care less. Maybe it was because he was prone to ditching school events, which Liz could corroborate for him if she wasn’t all the way in Oregon (which, by the way, his fault. He knows he made the right choice that night but that doesn’t do anything to lessen the guilt of being the reason her whole life got uprooted), but also because school dances pretty much revolved around dating and asking someone out or getting asked out, and Peter was beyond dating, at least for now when he had so many other exciting things to focus on that his brain doesn’t even entertain the idea of it.

Flash was the only remaining factor but Peter had pretty much gotten used to his mocking and PG version of violence compared to what he faced out in the streets, so it almost faded into the background now. (Almost)

So logically, Peter should have known that something wasn’t right when his vision started fading in and out as he tried to focus on Karamo’s wise words on self-love, which apparently never sunk in even after binge-watching the entire first season of Queer Eye in one day, because he ignored all the signs screaming ‘SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT!’ and now he’s stuck on Mr. Stark’s couch whilst he and Ms. Potts are in a meeting for another hour.

In all fairness, having an IQ of 180 didn’t mean Peter was actually smart because, as his friends will verify, he was a dumb shit with no sense of self-preservation and apparently zero (0) common sense.

“Friday,” He managed to squeeze out, but it wasn’t loud enough to alert the AI, barely a whisper because he’s pretty sure he’s being strangled or something.

Tears started to leak from his eyes from the frustration of not being able to move or call for help. (and also being terrified)

“Hhhel—”

“Fri–”

“please–”

He could feel his lips move, but no sound was coming out. Vision hazy, unable to breathe, his limbs weighed down, and a scared plea for help on his lips were the last things he felt before the world went black.

_______

Waking up after sustaining an injury whilst out as Spiderman and losing consciousness was always weird. He would always have to fight through the fog left behind by the sedatives and the first of his senses he got back was always his hearing, and then slowly came the rest.

He would hear the steady beeps of the heart monitor, and Mr. Stark usually pacing around the room. He would hear the small sniffles Aunt May tried to hide as she cried tears of frustration and worry, sitting beside his bed.

This was different.

When he reached consciousness, the first thing he did was feel, and he felt warm. He could feel a heaviness on top of him but instead of a boulder crushing him down, it felt like soft blankets enveloping him. He could feel warm air rushing around him as if the air vents were right next to his face. And most importantly, he could feel two warm bodies on either side of him.

All in all, he felt warm.

And soon, confused.

He sluggishly blinked his eyes open, and turned his head only to be met with the sight of Ms. Potts- THE Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, Powerhouse, his mentor’s fiance, and his kinda mother-figure (although he would never admit it), curled up asleep next to him.

His eyes widened, and his confusion grew astronomically, as he whipped his head to the other side only to be met with a mouthful full of fabric and a light in his eyes.

Mortified, he realised he was tucked under Mr. Stark’s chin, currently very much cuddling his mentor, the same man whose idea of affection was limited to ruffling his hair, putting an arm around his shoulders, or only in the rare cases, usually when Peter read a social cue wrong, hugs.

He tried scrambling out of what he now registered as Mr. Stark and Ms. Pott’s bed, in their ROOM HOLY SHI- but just sitting up had made his head spin horribly and he couldn’t really leave without disturbing them both.

He tried to calm down, slow down his now heaving breaths because he was panicking okay?

Cuddling with Ms. Pott’s was okay because she has always been physically affectionate, from kissing his forehead, to hugs before he left, and even occasionally, falling asleep on her whilst the three of them watched movies in the lounge, so he didn’t think she would mind.

But Mr. Stark?

Mr. Stark wasn’t one for physical affection, and although he must have ended up in their bed by their own volition considering the last thing he remembered was feeling faint whilst watching Queer Eye on the couch outside in the lounge, but it didn’t mean Mr. Stark would be comfortable with him cosying up to him in his own bed.

Which - huh. In his panicking, he had forgotten his confusion, which came back full force now, because? Why was he in their bed anyway?

“Kid?”

He looked back to see Mr. Stark blinking awake.

Peter, of course, immediately started awkwardly rambling, “Mr. Stark! Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I was trying really hard not to but then I couldn’t leave the bed as well and I’m confused I don’t really know why I’m here and sorry for getting spit on your shirt-”

“Kid, calm down. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine? A little tired, but nothing I can’t handle.” Which- not entirely the truth, cause his body feels sore all over, but it’s not the worst he’s ever felt so.

Mr. Stark closes his eyes for a bit and breathes out a sigh of relief. He doesn’t say anything else, so the only thing Peter can hear is Ms. Potts’ light snoring, which confuses him even more, because isn��t this weird? Why is Mr. Stark acting like this is no big deal?

“Uh, Mr. stark, can I ask, um, why am I here?”

“What do you mean kid?” Mr Stark said, sitting up a little against the headboard, and reaching for a glass of water on his side table, taking a sip and then handing the rest to Peter, who swigged it down in three big gulps, cause wow he didn’t realise how thirsty he was, before answering, “Like, well, here. Asleep. In your bed.”

“You don’t remember?” Mr. Stark asked looking a little concerned, but not alarmed so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

“Um no..?”

“Kid, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I remember being on the couch and watching tv and oh! I tried to get my phone but I couldn’t get up-”

And then it all came back to Peter - realising he could barely move, feeling scared but unable to call for help or do much of anything, the helplessness.

“I got an alert from Friday saying your heartbeat had dropped dangerously low, so Pepper and I rushed home, only to find you looking catatonic on the couch.” Mr. Stark shuddered, the lines around his mouth looked deeper as they held a frown, his eyes a bit scared as he recalled, “You were apparently going into hibernation which, I know we hypothesized the possibility of it, but at the moment I didn’t think-

Anyway, the heating had been shut off for maintenance so the penthouse temperature had fallen to around forty-two, and fuck kid, you didn’t even have a jacket on, being exposed to that temperature for such a long time caused your body to start shutting down, you were damn near hypothermic. I called Bruce, and he said everything should be fine as long as we got you warm and kept an eye on you, so Pepper suggested we bring you here. You’ve woken up twice since but this is the most coherent you’ve been so far, so that’s good.”

“But I didn’t even feel cold?” Peter was confused because he knows his spider DNA makes him unable to thermoregulate properly but on his walk back from school he felt normal, not cold at all!

Which… was not normal, dammit! How had he not realised something was wrong when he didn’t feel cold. In January. In New York. With snow on the ground!

“We’ll definitely have to run some tests for that, but chances are since your body was preparing to hibernate, it’s probable that your brain stopped processing external stimuli.”

“Huh yeah, I guess I didn’t really notice much but my vision was going all wonky," he paused for moment, scrunching up his nose absentmindedly, "but um anyway I guess I’ll leave now then and we can- tomorrow we’ll uh yeah but uh thank you for taking care of me.”

Mr. Stark looked like he was about to protest as he made to get up - or try to get up, because honestly, he didn’t think he could stand up properly yet, still feeling weak but he’ll cross that bridge when he got to it, so like 10 seconds from now - but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back to see Pepper awake and looking over at him concerned.

Suddenly he was being pulled back into a hug, which he immediately melted into because that’s the feeling Pepper brought, contentment. Comfort.

What surprised him is that Mr. Stark joined in, hugging them both so tight, he almost couldn’t breathe.

Pulling back, Peter saw both their faces and, clearly, how they found him must have looked much scarier than Mr. Stark described because both of them look shaken, scared, with so much love and worry in their eyes that Peter dove back in for another hug, and started to cry.

He had been so so scared on that couch, unable to do anything, feeling almost as if he was about to go to sleep and never wake up. So yeah, he took the comfort that his family was so ready to provide.

He didn’t object when Mr. Stark laid back and pulled him in to lay his head on his chest, nor when Pepper started running her hand through his hair.

He wriggled his toes a couple times to make sure he still could, only kinda scared of freezing up again, but he knew no matter what happened he would be okay because he was with two of the three people he loved most in the world. He let himself relax into their touch, knowing he’s safe here and fell asleep.

#iron dad #irondad bingo #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spiderman #idk im not the best at writing #but i love it #so heres some stuff #which i hope makes sense cause tbh idk what i wrote?#so if theres something that doesnt make sense lemme know please #so i csn fix it #wish i could do that wit ma life lol #i have exams in ten days and this is what tim doing #😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

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singtotheskiies · 7 years

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Say You Won't Let Go

pairing: alexander hamilton x reader modern au words: 2700 warnings: angst, drinking, death, and puking yeah boii (and I am obviously an underage minor so I have no clue what drinking and all this adult stuff is like lol) summary: song imagine based off of "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur. this is literally the worst thing I've ever written so please brace yourselves. might have a james madison one next!!

I met you in the dark, you lit me up You made me feel as though I was enough ------ His life had been chaotic. Anyone could attest to that. He had pushed his childhood away from him, as far as he could. Reliving those hellish years was the last thing he wanted to do. But lately, they had begun to resurface, and the dreams, the nightmares that shook him and forced him awake, sweat pouring off him, began to drain him. His work was growing busier and the load forced upon him became too much to bear. There was no time for anything else; his days consisted of writing and eating quickly, with an hour or two of sleep shoved haphazardly into his crammed schedule if at all possible. Even a man of his constitution and pure stubborn will couldn't keep up with such a timetable. He began to feel dark tendrils of hopelessness, of depression, curl around him, their hold ever tightening. That was, until he met her. He hadn't wanted to go to the party, but Hercules and Laf had insisted. "Alex," Hercules pleaded. "Only for a few hours. I promise it won't be much. You don't even have to drink. Besides, you need a break and I'm going to push you out of this door and into that bar if it's the last thing I do." "You might even meet someone special," Laf added. "That doesn't interest me," Alex told him, although something inside him, a small voice in both his head and heart exclaimed that it did. His weary soul was desperate for some type of companionship, someone who would care for him and make sure he was fine. Needless to say, Lafayette must have predicted the future. He walked into the bar and promptly sat on a stool, shaking his head at the bartender when asked if he wanted anything. He prepared himself for five hours of extreme boredom, until the voice came along and wiped everything away. "Is this seat taken?" you had asked, your light perfume wafting across him. He looked up and promptly forgot how to speak. Beautiful eyes, soft-looking mouth, hair slightly disheveled. Every small imperfection blended into a perfect vision. "Uh—um, no, no one's sitting here," he stuttered out, feeling his face grow warm. "(Y/N) (L/N)," you said, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." "Alexander Hamilton," he managed. "Can I—can I buy you a drink?" The rest was history. He stammered out a request for your number and texted you ten minutes after you had left the bar. That led to a couple dates and he finally asked you out three months after that fateful night. You made him feel like he owned the world, like he was worth it. You gave him an incentive to work through the fog in his brain, to endure the long hours of stress, and your smile swept him away every time. ------ We danced the night away, we drank too much I held your hair back when You were throwing up

------

"Alex, please? It's my birthday!" You pleaded with him until he finally gave in. It was your birthday, and you wanted to go to the same bar you had met him at. He was wary (he didn't like to drink and his tolerance levels were astronomically low) and secretly didn't like you being in such an atmosphere (he felt like the first man you saw would sweep you away from him), but he finally relented. You bounced excitedly on your feet and kissed his cheek. "You're the best!" He blushed and touched his cheek softly. Your heart melted at the small action. "You're so cliché. I love you," you added. No matter how many times he heard you say those words, a spark went through him that felt brand new each time. "I love you too." When you arrived at the bar, you went straight for the seats that you had occupied when the two of you first met. Thankfully, they were empty and you plopped yourself down. "One shot of (drink), please," you told the bartender energetically. "And for your man?" he responded. "I'll take a wine," Alex said, thinking of the least potent thing he could. You had downed three shots when Alex put a hand on your arm. "Babe, you better stop. I don't want you hurting yourself." You smiled at him, already feeling a buzzing from the alcohol in your system. "Oh, stop. I'm responsible; I'll be fine," you replied. "Come dance with me." Alex looked hesitant, but put down his barely-touched drink. You led him to a mostly uncrowded spot on the dance floor, and the two of you began to dance. You looked up at him and he gazed back with a small smile as the bright lights streaked across his face. His eyes were full of love and you beamed even brighter. "Thanks for taking me," you told him happily. "Anything for you," he replied. The lights and loud sounds were beginning to get to you, and you could feel a queasy sensation starting to build up within your stomach, but it wasn't bad. You pushed it aside and continued to smile, although it was more forced. Suddenly, your gut twisted unexpectedly and you ran for the bathroom. You heard Alex calling your name but couldn't stop. You could feel the alcohol coming back up and you bolted for the nearest toilet. Thankfully, no one else was in the room. You retched into the porcelain bowl as your stomach turned itself inside out. It subsided for a bit and you clutched the sides of the toilet, your hands shaking. The door opened and you turned to see Alex. "(Y/N), what's wrong—oh," he said, as he took in the scene. "Alex, I don't want you to see me like this," you told him, but then had to stop as you doubled over again. He ran to your side and held your hair back as you emptied your stomach again, rubbing your back softly and murmuring comforting words to you. You finally finished and stood shakily up. "I need to wash my face," you said, and proceeded to do so as he flushed the toilet. "Are you feeling okay?" you asked him when you had finished. "Yeah, just a little light-headed. You're the one I'm worried about, though. Do you want to go?" he asked you. You nodded. "I'll be fine, but I think we should go. I don't wanna risk anything else."

------

Then you smiled over your shoulder For a minute I was stone-cold sober I pulled you closer to my chest And you asked me to stay over I said, I already told ya I think that you should get some rest

------ You smiled at him, pouring all your love and gratefulness into that one gesture, and Alex felt a shock wave crash over him. Any trace of fuzziness and alcoholic affects was purged from his body and his thoughts ran on a crystalline track, sharper than ever before. He held out his arms to you as this happened, and you collapsed into them. He pulled you tighter, catching a whiff of that same perfume over the much more prominent smell of bile. You looked up at him—and oh, the things those eyes did to him—and said, "You should stay over tonight." "As long as you get some rest," he told you. "I want you feeling your best." "That rhymes," you said impishly, and he rolled his eyes. "Glad to see your sense of humor hasn't suffered any." "Shut up," you giggled playfully, cuffing him on the arm. "Let's go home."

------

I knew I loved you then But you'd never know 'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go I know I needed you But I never showed But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go ------ You fell asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had in your entire life. His body seemed to form a barrier between you and the rest of the world and he was warm and real and this was love. He noticed you had fallen asleep, and he brushed a piece of hair away from your face as he traced a heart on your shoulder. As he stared lovingly at your sleeping face, his mind began to work overtime—you always had that effect on him. Sure, he knew he loved you, but something within him shifted in that moment, something that shifted him up another notch. I want to spend my life with her, he realized. She's the one and nobody else.

------

I'll wake you up with some breakfast in bed I'll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head And I'll take the kids to school Wave them goodbye And I'll thank my lucky stars for that night ------ You blinked as your eyes opened to seemingly blinding sunlight flooding into the windows of yours and Alex's bedroom. A shape materialized in front of you—Alex (unshaved) with a tray in his hand. "I brought you some breakfast, darling," he said. "You deserve it." "Alex—" you started. "And I took the day off. We have the entire day to ourselves." "Alexander Hamilton, you shouldn't have!" "That's the name. And don't you 'Alexander' me," he grinned. "I'm taking Philip to school." "I'm so lucky to have you," you told him. "No, I'm the lucky one," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Just relax. I'll bring Philip in after I make sure he's ready." He left the room, closing the door softly. You were left alone with your breakfast, and you smiled out the window as you put on your ring. The peace didn't last long, however, and your oldest son burst into the room with all the whirlwind joy of a nine-year-old boy. "Morning, Mama!" "Hi there, Philip," you said, smoothing back one of his curls sticking straight up on his forehead. "Ready for school?" "Yeah," he said. "I have a history quiz today, but I think I'm ready." "Knock 'em out, Philip. I know you'll blow everyone away," you said. "Thanks, Mama," he said. "Love you." He kissed you sweetly on the cheek and you held him tight. "I love you too, my son." He exited in the same uproarious manner he had arrived and you heard the car backing out of the driveway. What a family.

------

When you looked over your shoulder For a minute, I forget that I'm older I wanna dance with you right now Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever And I swear that everyday you'll get better You make me feel this way somehow

------ Alex turned on the radio, a love station. A song came on, one of the ones that had played on the night you first met. "(Y/N) Hamilton, your husband of ten years admits that he is not as young and handsome as he used to be, but he requests the singular honor of this dance." "How can I not accept," you responded, and he took you in his arms. The two of you twirled around the living room, and your cheeks grew rosy and your eyes sparkled with laughter. "I see you're still as dashing as always," you told him, a slight pant edging your voice. He looked down at you lovingly. "You're so beautiful," he whispered softly, and a wave of happiness washed over you. Your swaying slowed as your lips met and he traced the same heart on your shoulder as he always did. Every kiss was as pure, as beautiful as the first.

------

I'm so in love with you And I hope you know Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold We've come so far my dear Look how we've grown And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go I wanna live with you Even when we're ghosts 'Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most

------ You flipped over in bed, surprised when your arms met only air. Not again, you thought. You got out of bed and made your way to Alex's study, your nightgown trailing behind you. The door was closed and a crack of light shine through the bottom. You opened it softly to see your husband scratching away in a notebook like you knew he would. Even now, at age fifty, his store of words flowed unchecked. "Alexander, come back to sleep," you implored him. "You write like you're running out of time." He turned and smiled at you, his hair glinting with threads of gray in the light. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone," he replied. You knit your brows together. "Hey. You're the best of wives and best of women." You kissed him on the bridge of his nose, just above the wire of his glasses. "Don't be too long."

------

I'm gonna love you till My lungs give out I promise till death we part like in our vows So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows 'Cause now it's just you and me till we're grey and old Just say you won't let go Just say you won't let go

------ You knew something was wrong with Alex when he began complaining of chest pain. The doctor had thought nothing of it at first, diagnosing it as just high blood pressure. However, your instincts told you otherwise and, after his pain began getting significantly worse, you had him taken in for scans that revealed a tumor on his heart. He had two months to live, if that. "How could you miss this?" you sobbed to the doctor. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hamilton. I really am." "Please. Just leave." A month later he was rushed to the emergency room. You rode in the ambulance, your heart feeling as if it was being ripped apart as you held your husband's hand. The doctors tried an operation, but shook their heads when you asked them frantically if your husband was still alive. Finally, you were called out of the waiting room and into Alex's room. "He's got a few minutes, tops. We'll leave you two alone," said the lead heart specialist, and the medical personnel all filed quietly out of the room. They had seen it a thousand times before. You sat on the edge of the bed. "Alex?" you whispered, trying not to cry as you took his hand. He opened his eyes and gave a weak smile. "(Y/N). My love." "Are you all right?" you asked him, the tears flowing freely now despite your efforts. "A lot of pain. I know what's going to happen. (Y/N), I love you more than anything in this life." His other hand moved and you saw he was holding out a piece of paper. "This is what I've been working on. For you. Somehow, I could sense my time was running out." You looked at it briefly, unable to see through your tears. A song. "Oh, Alex," you cried, your voice choked. Suddenly, his eyes clenched tightly in pain and his breathing began to slow and become ragged. You held on tighter, as if that could stop the pain, stop the whole nightmare. He opened his eyes. One last time. "(Y/N).' "I'm here." The words were barely distinguishable. "You're—you're my everything. I love you." A machine beeped, but you didn't need to see the now-flat line that measured his heartbeat to know that your love was gone. You wept, alone with his legacy in your hand.

------

Just say you won't let go Oh, just say you won't let go

#hamilton #hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton imagine #lin-manuel miranda #lin-manuel miranda x reader #lin-manuel miranda imagine #lin-manuel #lin-manuel x reader #lin-manuel imagine #lin #lin x reader #lin imagine #hamilton an american musical

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