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For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches
No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.
Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark
TW: Broken Bones, Blood
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.
“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”
Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”
Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”
“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.
“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”
“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.
She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.
He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.
Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.
“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.
“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”
He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”
“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.
“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.
“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.
“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.
“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”
“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.
“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.
“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.
“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.
“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.
“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.
“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”
“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”
Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.
“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.
The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.
Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.
The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.
Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.
“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.
“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”
Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”
“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”
She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.
Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”
“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.
Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.
He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.
Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.
Part 1 of my Wrong Number Kid rewrite is out now!
Young Peter Parker finally decided to go to a highschool party. Even though he's tried to stay clear of parties in fear someone would figure out he's trans, he decided to join his friends at the party after they begged him to go to one for the past few months. But what happens when Flash Thompson gives his crush the number but writes down the number wrong? What happens when the number Flash gives Peter actually ends up being Tony Starks phone number?
This fic contains:
~Trans Peter Parker (ftm)
~FlashPeter (Peter x Flash)
~Tom Holland spiderman
~mention of suicide/self harm
~mentions of religion
Chapter 1 out now! words in part 1: 1,309 more parts to come!
Do any of I'll have any trans man Peter Parker fics about when he's on his period and tony comforts him. I just need some of that comfort. You know? I'm on my period and it's annoying and hurting. So I just need the comfort fluff.
I'm gonna tag some people
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Wow Mr Stark 一by 天一个单推人
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Tony: K munchkin, can you say purple?
Little Rosie: Purple
Tony: Say Apple
Tony: Say Yellow
Tony: Say motherfucking asshole!
Rosie: Motherfucking asshole!
Tony: *Wheezes* Don’t say that. Don’t say that. Daddy was naughty. You’re cute tho *chuckles*
Tags: @astralshipper @aricka-and-her-fictional-others @recordplayershipping @magicalbunbun @journalofdeath
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not a stony shipper, but imagine if steve an tony were in a relationship and only the avengers knew, so when CACW comes around it’s all faked. so like siberia never happened, and peter is actually tony’s kid. idk i think i’m onto something
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Ok I'm really bad at Summary's but pretty good at writing (I think).
The Rogue Avengers move back to the compound after apologising and agreeing to sign the accords if they were altered. They start seeing a boy around who they suspect to be Tony's son.
A few months ago, Peter's aunt May died. Tony swiftly adopted Peter and has been working on making him feel safe and stable again. He's worked so hard to just get Peter talking that he can't help but be slightly annoyed that the Rogues decided to come back now.
This is an almost complete fluff fic, it’s filled will domestic avengers, irondad, and Parkner moments to fill your hearts content, the little bit of angst you get it is from discussions of May’s death and Peter’s subsequent reaction to it. It’s a great read especially if you’re in the mood for something lighthearted. I’d recommend this fic if you like amazing domestic Avengers, irondad, Tony adopting Peter but not necessarily being called dad, or Parkner being the amazing wholesome couple they are fics.
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Ok, ok, ok so it would be post civil war maybe post smhoco too ?? And basically it’d start with Peter waking up in the middle of no where, and it be absolutely snow covered. Idk if it’d take place in northern Canada or Russia during the winter but one of those place. So he wakes up and he doesn’t have his phone or watch so he can’t be tracked, he can’t thermoregulate and Bucky Barnes is there.
Peter knows that Tony has some negative emotions about Bucky. Bc, y’know Siberia and all that, but Bucky is having a ptsd episode because of the cold. So Peter is all like: uuuh I don’t know what to do, I can’t stay warm and this man is not okay with the cold, I can’t tell him I might die in the next few hours.
So Peter doesn’t say anything and he helps Bucky calm down and reassures Bucky that Tony will find them. But Peter is pretty sure he’ll die before being found. Once Bucky is calmed enough Peter pushed for them to start walking bc it’s the best way to stay warm, also he’s hoping to find a cabin or a town despite the fact everything is a blinding white for as far as he can see.
Peter and Bucky walk for a really long time, they get to know eachother and eventually it’s getting dark, right? And windy, really windy but they’ve found some forest which is really good, because it’ll block the wind. Bucky doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, or at least he’s not showing it to Peter. But Peter could feel the way his body was slowing down, how it was harder to think and breathe, and his words are slurring. Peter can’t feel the cold and he knows his body is shutting down and will put him in a hibernation during the night.
Because it’s dark and Bucky needs to rest, they manage to gather some wood off of some trees and dig a shelter in the snow big enough for a fire to keep them warmish and to block the wind. It’s not a lot, but if they stay close together Bucky will at least be warm enough to continue the next day.
So Bucky sets up the fire and their sitting really close together. Peter knows he won’t wake up the next day and he doesn’t want it to freak Bucky out so he basically says: remember how earlier I told you I was Spider-Man? Well yeah because of the spider dna I can’t thermoregulate which means my body is forcing me into a hibernation. I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and I’ll only be able to stay alive another few days because of the lack of nutrients. I read Life of Pi, if you could just try not eating my face if you aren’t found that would be nice.
And Bucky’s all like ????? He’s not going to eat a literally child. And he knows that Peter and Tony are close so he’s especially not going to leave Peter to die. Peter had laughed like cannibalism is a joke but Bucky is completely freaked out. Like Peter sounded so certain that they’d be found and now he’s offering himself up as a meal.
The next morning Peter doesn’t wake up and the freaks Bucky out even more because Peter’s heart beat is like really slow. Idk how anatomy works. Bucky knows he’s gotta keep moving and skin to skin contact is the best way to keep either of them warm and possibly wake Peter back up again? So Peter is stripped to his underwear and Bucky puts Peter under his shirt, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulder. Peter’s clothing goes to cover both of their ears.
Bucky goes on for another two days carrying Peter through the wilderness. Then finally there’s a quinjet overhead and it’s Tony. Tony had been able to put together clues he’d been receiving and found them.
Then from there idk Bucky gets on the jet before collapsing I guess and everyone lives. Touching irondad moment for sure and Peter’s just genuinely surprised and grateful that Bucky kept him alive.
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Fanfic Rec #96 Tony Stark & Peter Parker (Marvel) part 2
Retrograde by madasthesea
Prompt: what about the remember me one? seen a lot of fics with peter getting amnesia but never one of tony forgetting anything? could be a nice switch to see how peter would deal with that + tony trying to figure out how he went from a wild playboy to a supposed superhero with a teenager.
Tony gets amnesia. When Peter comes to visit him in the hospital, Tony takes one look at him and immediately assumes that Peter's his son.
The sun shines brighter when you are here by frostysunflowers
One room. Two moments.
Tony, before and after Peter comes home.
Becoming Belonging by sahiya
Peter barely remembered the week after he came back, five years and two minutes after dying on Titan. But he did remember this: looking at Morgan Stark and feeling––to his immediate shame––wildly, insanely jealous that Morgan had had those five years with Tony and Peter hadn’t.
Coming Home by inkinmyheartandonthepage
AU – Peter Stark was kidnapped when he was just three years old. Tony and Pepper never stopped looking for their boy. Years later, Peter finds his way back home.
If They Knew All About You by MsHermia
Tony Stark had lost his son when he was only 2 years old, stolen away in broad daylight with nobody the wiser of what exactly happened. Years later, Tony has just made it through the disaster with Ultron. He is trying to keep himself and the team together but relationships are strained and tempers are running high.
Then a random turn of events leads to his path crossing with that of a particular vigilante. They are strangers to each other, or so they think.
Peter Parker is on top of the world. After a few shitty years, losing his parents and then losing his Uncle, things are finally looking up. Sure he lives in a crappy little apartment with his Aunt but he might have just found his mission in life.
This is an AU story obvious by some of the tags. I'm starting out a few weeks after Age of Ultron took place. Civil War will be a thing.
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Stephen: You wanna be a dad??
Tony : NO
[3 seconds later]
Peter: Hi, I'm Peter
Tony : Hi Peter, I'm dad
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Found Family Chapter Two
Peter: If 2 mind readers are reading each other's minds, who's mind are they reading?
Tony: it's fucking 2 am, go to sleep
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For the Summer of Whump Day 23 - Sick
“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.
Words: 2101, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.
“Peter,” Ned’s voice is exasperated and he looks irritated. MJ’s face is still (mostly) an indifferent mask but he can see her eyes brows pulling in the way they do when she’s concerned. “This has been going on for three days now,” he complains. “you have got to tell May.”
“Sure don’t,” Peter says, drying his hands off on a scratchy paper towel and trying to surreptitiously blot at his sweaty face before tossing it in the trash.
“You’re an idiot,” MJ tells him with an eye roll and a soft shove of her shoulder. It completely throws off Peter’s limited equilibrium and makes him sway into the wall. Ned’s glare becomes even sharper.
“I’m fine,” Peter tries and even he can hear the lie in his words now. He totally isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all actually. He’s had a fever, vomiting and stomach cramps for going on three days now and he’s just not used to getting and staying sick this long since he got bitten by the spider. A cold or a twenty-four hour hell flu? Sure. Consistent nausea and a low to mid grade fever for seventy-two hours? Unheard of.
“This is pointless,” MJ’s voice is monotone as she tosses Peter his phone which he fumbles, just barely catching it with the tips of sticky fingers.
“When did you take my phone?” He asks confused.
MJ guides him out the door and towards the front office – the exact opposite direction he needs to be going if he’s going to make it to his chemistry class. “I took it from your pocket when you were re-enacting the exorcism. Happy should be here in like ten minutes.”
“MJ,” Peter whines, not putting up a fight when Ned grabs his other arm to help with the pulling and directing. “I don’t need to go home.”
“Yes you do,” Ned’s tone is firm. “No one wants your flu Peter.”
“Alright that’s… fair,” he admits. “But my homework-,”
“We’ll get it for you,” MJ reassures as the office comes into view. She pushes him into one of the chairs sat outside and marches in to speak to the secretary. Peter pouts and crosses his arms. Yeah he feels like shit and he really just wants to sleep and, sure, his lower abdomen is really cramping and hurting but he got shot two weeks ago and the pain isn’t that bad. He can totally handle it. “You’re signed out,” Michelle tells him when she comes back, offering Ned a note to excuse his tardiness. “Let us know that you didn’t die okay loser?”
“Bye Peter!” Ned says brightly, back to his normal self now that he knows Peter is actually going home.
His friends finally gone, Peter drops all pretense and lets his face rest against the cool wall next to him, letting his eyes slip shut in relief – his forehead was burning. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and shivers. Maybe it is good that he goes home. He can take a nap and recuperate and be back at school tomorrow completely better.
Yeah. He just needs to nap.
“Well your scary girlfriend wasn’t kidding,” Mr. Stark’s voice rips Peter out of his near-sleep and has him blotting out of the chair, nearly falling over if he hadn’t caught himself on the way. “You look like shit kiddo.”
“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaks, surprised at seeing his mentor at his freaking school what the hell. “What uh… what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” Tony asks with good humor, looking at Peter over the top of his AR glasses with a concerned smile, eyes scraping over him in a clinical way. “I’m here to get you.”
“Uh no offense, but why?” Peter asks, tripping over his book bag on the floor and falling back into the chair. Tony raises an eyebrow.
“Because I’m one of your emergency contacts,” he answers like this is the most obvious thing ever and Peter blinks a little in confusion. Mr. Stark is one of his emergency contacts? Since when? He opens his mouth to ask this very question when a sudden bout of nausea rolls over him and he, instead, scrambles to his feet and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.
He barely makes it to the sink before he starts gagging and dry heaving, nothing coming up but leaving him feeling dizzy and light-headed. Peter leans his head against the porcelain of the sink with a low moan, gagging again on the end and leaning his face back over the sink to drool out the excess saliva in his mouth.
“Yikes,” he hears Mr. Stark mutter behind him and then a calloused hand is running carefully through his hair and resting on his forehead. Peter pushes his face into the cool palm subconsciously and keeps his eyes closed as he tries to push the nausea down. “Yeah you’re definitely coming back to the MedBay with me.”
Peter lets out a wordless whine but doesn’t protest beyond that. It has been three days of this after all – maybe it is a good idea to consult with a professional?
“Come on buddy,” Tony says as he slings Peter’s arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him out of the bathroom and towards the entrance to the school. “You have a date with Dr. Cho and your aunt is waiting to hear the results of her exam.”
Happy actually looks concerned when Peter sees him standing outside of one of the many town cars Mr. Stark owns and he doesn’t say anything when he takes Peter’s bag from Tony to put in the front seat. The leather of the back seats is cool and the interior is darkened by the tinted windows and Peter lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head against the window; already half asleep.
The drive is, thankfully, quick and Peter dozes through most of it – still nauseous but able to hold it down for the most part. Soon enough they pull into the underground garage of the Tower and Tony is hustling him into the elevator which rockets them up to the MedBay floor without either of them having to say anything.
“May wants you to call her once you get settles,” Tony says, rapidly texting on his phone.
Peter squints his eyes at his mentor. “I’m not sure how I feel about you two texting,” he says.
“Oh we’re besties,” Tony teases, pocketing the phone with a shit eating grin. “We have coffee every other Wednesday.”
“I… don’t know if you’re serious,” Peter says, concerned. He probably doesn’t want to know to be honest. The doors of the elevator trundle open and Tony steers Peter into an empty exam room, directing him to sit on the exam bed. It only takes a second before Dr. Cho bustles in.
“Hey Peter,” she says with a smile as she rubs hand sanitizer into her hands and grabs a set of gloves from the box on the wall. “Tony said you were sick. Want to tell me about what’s going on?
“Nausea mostly,” he says as she runs a thermometer across his forehead and frowns at the readout. “My stomach hurts.”
“Well you have a fever of just over one hundred and two,” she says as she clips a pulse ox reader to his finger and wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm and lets it run. “And your blood pressure is a little low,” she narrows her eyes at the reading and unhooks the machines. “Lay back for me?”
Peter does and stares at the ceiling as she starts to palpate his abdomen. He could probably fall asleep here actually if he – “OW!” He exclaims, curling away from Dr. Cho’s hands and wrapping his arms around his stomach to protect it.
“Well I have a tentative diagnosis,” she says snapping off her gloves. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm but, congratulations, Peter you have appendicitis.”
Peter and Tony both blink and then look at each other and then back. “For three days?” Tony questions, scooting Peter over to sit next to him on the bed and run a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain in his abdomen but it helps.
“His healing factor is probably slowing down the progression, preventing it from rupturing as quickly as it could or should have,” she says, typing something into Peter’s chart on her StarkPad. “I’ll have a tech confirm with ultrasound and get a surgeon out to do the surgery. It’s pretty quick – one hour tops and then a few days recovery and you’ll be good as new.”
“Surgery?” Peter asks hoarsely, feeling his heart rate speed up. He’s never had surgery before.
Dr. Cho looks up at him and her face softens a little. “It’s an easy procedure,” she promises. “You won’t even realize that you’ve had it really and. Once you wake up, you’ll feel immediately better. Everything will be fine,” she promises and Peter nods with a gulp. He can feel stomach acid rising in his throat again and lunges for the emesis basin sitting on the bedside table, gagging into it.
“Let it all out Webs,” Tony says, rubbing his back sympathetically. “Got anything to help with this doc?”
“I’ll have the nurses start and IV and give him an anti-emetic,” she said, passing a new basin to Tony and taking the one from Peter’s slack grasp. “Just try to relax okay Peter?”
“This sucks,” he grumbles, letting his head fall over to rest on his mentor’s shoulder and relaxing when he feels Tony’s finger scrub though his hair to massage his aching head.
“Sure does kiddo,” Tony agrees, pulling the blanket up to Peter’s chest. “But at least its an easy fix.”
“I don’t want surgery,” Peter tells him quietly. Even with all of his many Spider-Man injuries he’s never had to be put under for anything. “Is May on her way?”
“Happy went to get her,” Tony promises him. “And surgery seems really scary but its not I promise. It’s like taking a really good nap and May and I will both be there alright? It’ll be fine Underoos.”
“Okay,” Peter says quietly, feeling slightly better but still a little concerned. But he would have May and Tony with him. It would be fine.
“Guess we still need to tweak the anesthetic formula for you just a bit,” Mr. Stark says apologetically as he mops up the sweat on Peter’s brow with a damp cloth and supports him as he retches again. The surgery had gone well and had been quick. Waking up however?
Not so much.
“Just let it out baby,” May croons as she rubs his back, sweaty and making the thin hospital gown stick to his skin uncomfortably. Peter just gasps a little and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose to quell his nausea.
“I’m good,” Peter croaks a minute later, letting his aunt settle him back into the bed and fuss over him. He had barely woken up after the surgery before the vomiting started again. It had alarmed Tony but May and Dr. Cho had both determined that it was just a poor reaction to the anesthesia they used. With how fast him metabolism was, it should move through his system quickly.
“Can I get you anything sweetie?” May asked him, brushing his damp hair out of his face and sitting on the edge of the bed facing him.
“I’m okay,” Peter said, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Tony squeezed his hand and tucked his blanket in a little tighter around him warming Peter up from the inside a little. He was so glad and thankful that he had the chance to get closer with Tony over the last couple months since the incident with the Vulture. The man was still a little awkward and learning how to be a mentor but he was trying and that’s all Peter could ask for. “Just want to sleep,” he said softly, letting his eyes slip closed.
“Okay baby,” he heard May whisper, running her fingers through his hair and Peter felt the ghost of a smile on his face. Yeah, he could probably handle this recovery.
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Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man), Ben Parker, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, the MCD is not Peter or Tony, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, au starts from there, Villain Tony Stark, Villain Peter Parker, eventually for both of them, Murder, i'll add more tags with each chapter
SHIELD and HYDRA's fall put thousands of innocents at stake. Tony and the US intelligence agencies struggled to save who they could in the wake of the data dump. Unfortunately Peter Parker lost everything, and would have lost his life as well if not for Iron Man. With nowhere else to go, he is taken in by his hero and savior.
Tony and Peter soon grow as father and son, finding they fit together like a puzzle. Through any ups or downs life throws at them, including DNA mutating spider bites. And for a while it’s good. Great even. Then the Civil War happened. The Avengers ruined everything.
And well…Tony has always thought of himself as more the villainous type anyway. Thankfully Peter didn’t seem to mind.
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Tony: My father is a bitch
Peter: Isn't he dead?
Tony: Dying did not make him any less of a bitch
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We are really enjoying getting to know you! Today’s question is:
Which prompt are you most looking forward to reading from other participants?
We’ll go first!
Oh, I can’t wait to get my fill of some unlike caregiver stories. I love watching the tough guy/gal/pal become a big softy. But to be honest, I'm excited for any and all soft moments. I ❤ hurt/comfort.
I think I’m most looking forward to reading Faking it, I’m not sick, and Missing out. I’m all about the emotional drama and these ones seem to be the ones that will deliver that for me!
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Peter: [nudges Tony at 3am] Pretty fucked up that we think minions are all male. They're all just yellow potato shaped hellspawn. Mr Stark? Wake up Mr Stark. Listen. They're sexless and they're terrible and I never want to see another one again
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Villainous July Sneak Peak!
Thanks @superherotiger and @kevyfanfics for creating @multiverse-irondad-july and actually giving me motivation to write!! Anyways this is both a joke and me being 100% serious and if you think I won’t be using this in the final draft you’re wrong because I will be using it!.
Even though there was a mask covering his face, Peter could see the raised eyebrow and almost shocked look behind the mask.
“Excuse you?” Iron Man said in a way that had Peter jolting to a stop on top of the building nearest Iron Man.
“Excuse me?” Peter repeated exasperated. “You’re the one who blew up a building then ran away.”
“And you had the nerve to shoot a- whatever that is at me.” Iron Man said, peeling the web off his suit. “And I flew away. I didn’t run.”
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Here's the angsty sequel to this prompt I got a few weeks ago. It will definitely be multi-chaptered (I’m thinking 4) and pretty canon compliant with endgame fix-it.
lookin for love (in all the wrong places)
In CA:CW Steve kicks Spider-Man in the chest, awakening a soul deep bond and sending Peter into his first heat, before running away to Wakanda.
The soul bond, omegaverse, Spidershield angsty romance everyone needs.
Word count: 3.4K
Rating: T (for now)
Warnings: depressive tendencies due to soul bond sickness, poor Peter, general talk of Omega heat
Read it here on AO3
Title is from this song by Johnny Lee
He’s always wondered what it would be like to be an Omega. Both him and Bucky had presented as Alphas in grade school, but even when his knot was smaller than a golf ball and people looked at him confused when he scented Alpha, Steve still hadn’t known.
Now he does. At least partially. His body aches, hot and empty as waves of heat roll through him. It reminds him of when he was fifteen and came down with pneumonia, and he hates it. He’s warm but has no fever, achy and sweaty but his body is functioning perfectly. After three hours, he passes out from the stress, and when he wakes up, Shuri is staring down at him in disappointment.
“Good, you’re awake. For Bast’s sake, I swear you’re just like my brother— never asking for help, never thinking anything is wrong until bam!” she claps her hands, turning to walk across the room, “you’re unconscious.”
Just as he’s about to ask what happened, a wave of agony washes through him and he curls around his body instinctively, forcing deep breaths as tears gather in his eyes. There’s a frantic beeping nearby and he can sense other people in the room, hands on his body, before his vision goes dark again.
All he can remember is feeling empty, and the desperate memory has him disoriented. He has never wanted to bend over, to take a knot deep inside— but the desire was there all the same, through the haze of agony, a need to be filled and held.
“Captain Rogers, are you mated?”
“Captain Rogers, are you mated?”
The voice comes from his left, and Steve turns to face the King as he steps into view. He tries to sit up but T’Challa just waves for him to rest. It takes a moment to concentrate and understand what the King just said.
“Mated, your Highness? No, I’m not mated. I…” Steve rubs the skin of his arm as he looks away, “I’m not mated yet.”
T’Challa gives him a disbelieving look and gestures to the bright red soul mark, “But you have met them, have you not?” When Steve doesn’t respond, he just steps forward and continues, “Captain, you have just withstood six days of severe bond sickness, with symptoms indicative of an Omega’s heat.”
The implication sinks in. There was nothing wrong with him to begin with— the pain was shared, through his bond with his soulmate. Oh god, his Omega is somewhere out there, in heat, and Steve is here.
“My Omega,” Steve growls, finally rolling up on his knees to look up at T’Challa, “my Omega’s in heat.”
T’Challa nods, “I know, Captain. Unfortunately, we cannot keep you and your team here for much longer. I can supply you all with supplies and cover for your journey, should you wish to return to your Omega. Otherwise, we have a residence for you to use temporarily.”
Steve nods, forcing himself to calm down, “Thank you, T’Challa— it’s much appreciated. Do you know where Natasha is?”
“Come with me.”
The King leads the way out of the greenhouse and farther into the palace, nodding to various people along the way as Steve matches his strides, cutting through the halls and into the residential wing. There is a collection of men outside Steve’s previous room, and T'Challa asks them a question in Xhosa, nodding when he gets an answer.
“She waits for you inside. Please, prepare your decision and we will send you off in an hour’s time. Thank you, Captain,” he ends with a clipped, professional tone, turning on his heel and heading back down the hall without further comment.
Steve watches him leave for a moment before ducking through the doorway, taking in the dimly lit room. There’s a familiar figure sitting at the vanity, facing away from him. Natasha looks at him in the mirror, and her face is carefully neutral.
She meets his eyes, “Do I need to get Tony on the phone?”
He shudders thinking of those last moments with Tony— rage blurring his vision, driving the shield home and severing their relationship in a brutal strike. As much as he needs to get home to his Omega, he knows Tony wouldn’t allow it right now. Especially not on his dime.
“No, I don’t… I think we move on,” Steve looks out the window where the early evening glow is filtered through the glass, seeming a lot more hopeful than he feels. He turns back when Natasha looks over her shoulder, giving him a light smirk.
“How’s Europe this time of year?”
They start off in Paris because Natasha informs him all good vacations start in Paris. Steve is less than convinced. He knows that T’Challa is relieved to get them off his hands and back into the world. The less attention on Wakanda the better.
The bunker is spacious, fit with several rooms and fully stocked with food and other survival supplies. Plus, since it’s on the outskirts of the city, it has a great view of the Seine. They sleep in shifts for the first few days, and Natasha insists on sweeping the apartment and surrounding hallways for bugs, convinced that they could be followed by Hydra sympathizers. Steve doesn’t doubt it.
On their fourth night there, Steve has a dream that he’s flying.
He’s looking down over millions of people, over rooftops and tiny cars, and he feels completely at peace. His hands anchor him to the sky, and it’s by his effortless strength that he’s suspended in mid air. Besides the bliss of being weightless and free, Steve feels a deep pit in his stomach. He tries to focus on it, but something keeps distracting him, forcing his concentration back to the sights and sounds around him.
With a shudder, he wakes up. What the hell. Steve doesn’t remember the last time he had a dream that didn’t end in cold sweat and a busted weight room. Lately it’s been Bucky and Tony’s eyes haunting him at night, but this is different.
He scans the room and finds Natasha sitting under a nearby windowsill, staring at him steadily. “Dammit, Nat,” he curses, pulling the sheets up around his exposed chest. His voice is coarse, and he reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand.
“That wasn’t a nightmare.”
It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyways, “No, it wasn’t. I was flying over New York and I felt so free, so strong. Similar to falling without a chute, but I felt completely in control.”
Natasha tilts her head to the side, “That’s cute, Steve.”
He ignores that and thinks back through the dream. It doesn’t seem that significant, but he can’t get over the pit in his stomach, the barely restrained feeling of soul-deep emptiness. He scratches his arm absently, blinking away the last bit of sleep, and turns back to Natasha.
She has her arms folded with a thoughtful look on her face. “Does it have to do with your soul mate?”
“I think so.”
Natasha hums and swings around, moving gracefully to sit near him on the bed. Her scent is so carefully neutral, something to do with the Red Room, and he’s never thought to ask about her presentation. Or her soulmate for that matter.
Bucky’s the same way, and Steve’s getting used to it. He would rather ask and get everything out on the table, but in moments like this, he’s glad Natasha respects the need for silence.
Instead of asking, she scoots in close— a silent offering of comfort. Steve gives her a moment to get comfortable before sliding an arm around her waist, rearranging them until he’s holding her secure from behind. Their breathing is steady, and Steve lets himself scent her minutely.
“You won’t pick anything up that way,” Natasha murmurs, and her body relaxes into his.
Steve just hums, “I know, doesn’t stop me from trying.”
They lay in silence for a while. The only sound in the room is a light ticking of a nearby clock and the soft cadence of their breaths, slow and real and oh so human. Steve stops himself from drawing circles on her skin in a mindless comfort. He stops himself from wishing she was someone else entirely.
Before they drift off— Steve already thinking of flying high over an endless city skyline— Natasha whispers, “We’ll get you home to him, Steve.”
He flies over the city, strung from web to web over the skyscrapers below. With each swing, he shoots himself higher and higher over the buildings in a dangerous arch, letting his descent bring him down, down— past windows and rooftops— until he’s only a few yards from the ground. His heart beats faster, hammering, until he shoots a new web and his body is swung out of the deadly fall.
It’s rhythmic. It’s soothing. And it’s blissfully distracting from the devastating ache deep down in his gut.
School has gone by in a blur since he was in Germany. Classes and commitments feel empty, meaningless, and May has started giving him a look. He knows it’s bad, and that spending long hours fighting crime isn’t the best way to cope.
Anything has to be better than how horrible his first heat was.
He’s secretly glad he was incoherent and unconscious for most of it, because otherwise he would have immediately called Mr. Stark and begged him to let Steve come back. And if he's been buying Captain America merch and adding it to his nest ever since, well, that’s something no one needs to know.
It’s only a few more blocks until he hears screaming, and takes a sharp detour. He definitely has time for another stop.
A few hours later, he’s crawling through his bedroom window and collapsing into his bed with a grunt. He should probably clean the blood off, or change out of the suit, but suddenly he’s wrapped in the tightness of a hug, phantom yet consuming.
The ache in his stomach yields as warmth spreads through his body. Coming from behind him, in front of him, he can almost feel the press of a strong chest against his back, or maybe in front of him, cradled in his arms. He buries his face in his pillow and drifts off, convinced he can almost smell his mate’s scent around him.
When his alarm goes off in the morning, the feeling is gone and Peter is left with only the memory of his soulmate as a reminder throughout the day.
During lunch, MJ slaps him on the arm.
“Hey, loser,” she chews on… damn, she’s eating his fries, “the hell are you thinking about? You look like you’re about to fly away, and you scent so sweet I’m about to throw up. Spill, Parker.”
He forces his arms to uncurl from where they’re wrapped around his body tightly, and pulls his tray back from MJ, “It’s… it’s nothing, okay? Just hormones I guess.”
“You can’t lie for shit, Peter.”
Her glare is intimidating, but Peter just shrugs in response, forcing himself to eat a few fries even though his stomach lurches in protest. MJ’s expression softens and she reaches forward, almost touching his arm, before tucking her hand back into her pocket and clearing her throat.
“You don’t have to tell me, alright? You’ve just been weird since presenting and I want you to know… I, uh… I need you to know—”
Peter takes pity on her, “I get it, MJ, thanks.”
They sit in silence for a few moments before she scoots a little closer, putting her elbows on the table and leaning into his space, “Did some Alpha fuck you?”
“During your heat— did you sleep with some asshole? Did they leave you, is that it?”
“No, no,” Peter backs away, shaking his head in denial, “no one… no one did that.”
“But there is an Alpha?”
It’s hopeless to hide something from MJ. She always figures shit out, and Peter hates that about her. “Yeah, MJ,” he pulls up his sleeve, making sure no one is watching as he shows her the flaming red words on his forearm, “I found my Alpha.”
“Oh god,” she breathes, tracing a finger lightly over the word kid, before jerking it away, “is that why you presented so early?”
He nods somberly, pulling his sleeve back down. Her face is something between pity and disgust— and he gets it, he does— so he just nods to confirm it.
Anger, Alpha fury, blooms across the table and Peter flinches away. A few heads turn to look as MJ stands up, slamming her tray down on the table.
“Alright. Where is he?” Her tone is fierce, and she glares around the cafeteria, almost as if she’s trying to search for the offender amongst the poor surrounding high schoolers. If he weren’t so terrified of his friend he would laugh.
Instead, his instincts overwhelm him and he ducks his head, exposing his throat to try and calm the aggressive Alpha nearby. “He… he’s not in high school, okay?” Everything in him wants to submit to her, but he can’t bring himself to call her Alpha. Not when his Alpha is halfway across the world right now.
She sits back next to him, still seething. Thankfully her scent is losing its strength just as the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch and his own salvation. Peter hops out of his seat and heads towards the trash can, dumping his lunch, and turns to run smack into MJ again.
“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry Peter,” she puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, careful not to corner him, “I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you, and I’m still trying to get a handle on all the Alpha stuff, you know? I just want you to know… I’m here for you. As a friend, not an Alpha, of course.”
The ache is even more noticeable deep down, and he has to swallow back a sob as it tries to bubble up in his chest. Other kids are brushing past them, already on their way back to class, and he wraps Michelle in a quick hug. They trade scents comfortingly for a moment before he pulls away, afraid of crying in the middle of a public space.
“Of course, MJ,” he gives her a watery smile before backing away, ignoring the way her face falls in disappointment, “I’ll see you after school, okay?”
As he jogs away from her, wiping his eyes discreetly, he hears her agree in a small voice. He hates that he’s running away. He never used to run away, but there’s no way he can face his emotions right now. No way he can think about the loneliness and rejection of having spent his first heat away from his mate.
He should be so lucky.
Later that evening, while he’s on patrol, he’s cut off by Iron Man. Peter lands in a crouch on an apartment building rooftop as the armor blocks his path.
“Halt, young padawan,” Mr. Stark’s augmented voice sounds through the mask, and Peter stands, putting his hands up in surrender. It’s surprising to see Mr. Stark out— in general, not just in Queens— and Peter immediately pulls his mask off.
“M-mr. Stark! What… what are you doing here? I’ve got everything under control, I swear— not that I’m not excited to see you here, or whatever. Just… yeah,” he rubs awkwardly at his arm, shifting on his feet as the Iron Man armor descends in front of him.
With a silent thud, Iron Man lands and Tony immediately steps out, dressed simply in black slacks and a matching black button up. There’s a pair of sunglasses tucked into the collar, but he doesn’t put them on. Yet.
“Calm down, kid, I’m just checking in. Heard down the grapevine that you found your soulmate, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, I don’t know, spiralling into masses of depression.”
His tone is casual, but Peter knows this is probably beyond awkward— wait.
“Wait… what… what soulmate?” He tilts his head, trying to figure out how Mr. Stark knows.
Peter gets an eye roll for his efforts, “I got a call from King T’Challa, Pete. He said the Star-Spangled Mess was out cold the same week you were benched for your heat. He also said that the good Captain’s arm says ‘Queens’ in bright red letters,” Mr. Stark steps closer, gesturing for Peter’s arm, “You don’t have to, but can I take a look?”
With only a small hesitation, Peter offers up his arm, breath picking up as Mr. Stark peels back the sleeve of his Spider-man suit.
You got heart, kid. Where you from? is printed in a neat scrawl across his skin, slightly inflamed like a healing tattoo and brilliant red. Activated, but unfinished.
“Was it in Germany?” Mr. Stark asks, his voice a low murmur.
Peter can tell he feels guilty, responsible somehow, as his mentor runs his thumb over the first line carefully. Not for the first time, Peter wonders what Mr. Stark’s words say, and if it’s true he has them with Ms. Potts. Mr. Stark pulls the sleeve down, a quick movement that causes Peter’s head to snap up, eyes blinking wide.
“Yeah, Mr. Stark. He kicked me in the chest,” Peter tries to laugh, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say.
Mr. Stark’s scent flares with anger— sweet, with a hint of bitter spice that makes Peter have to sneeze. The other Omega scoffs and puts his hands on his hips, “That fucking bastard,” he curses, and something in Peter’s chest clenches.
Disapproval rests heavily on Peter’s body, sinking into his instincts to please and fix a problem not only with authority, but with a parent.
Peter’s arms close over his chest and he grips his elbows, trying to make himself smaller. A whimper escapes his lips, high and mournful. Peter knows his scent matches it.
He hates that Tony disapproves of his mate. He hates that his mate can’t be here to hold him.
He feels vulnerable, like an open wound. The wind whips around in his hair, pushing and pulling him with ease, and the cold seeps down into his bones. Alone, it whispers, alone and disappointing.
“Peter,” warm arms and a familiar scent surround him, “Peter, c’mon kid. C’mon bambino, I’m sorry.”
Tony strokes his hair as they lay on the roof together. He’s never been able to relax into a scent like this before. As a Beta, Aunt May is comforting and peaceful, but Peter has a hard time sinking into it enough to let her hold him. And he knows how much Tony hates getting close.
He scrambles to get up, to get away.
“S-sorry, Mr. Stark. Didn’t mean to… m’sorry,” he mutters, but Tony holds him tight, making small shushing noises.
“Stop… stop squirming, kid. I swear. Just let me do this.”
And as he’s held tight, Peter slams face first into his emotions. They catch up to him in a rush, shaking through his body, until they burst— and Peter heaves a devastated sob into Tony’s chest.
Tony cradles the back of his head as he wails, “Why did he leave me?”
“I don’t know, bambino.”
Underneath them, the rooftop is hard, unforgiving. Tony anchors him in place as he releases hurt and devastation into the open air. Sobs shake his full body, moving Tony as well. Peter clings tighter.
The image of Steve flashes in his mind, making him cry harder. Perfect Alpha, Captain America, looking at him, taking him in fully, before leaving him for dead. Deciding in a moment that he wasn’t good enough to keep.
He barely registers being picked up, cradled against a cold, hard chest, until he’s flying again.
Peter cracks his eyes open, wiping his nose as Tony jets them back to the Tower. The ground below them is far away, distant and safe. He loves flying, loves soaring through the air, and the freedom it gives him.
This time, he doesn’t need to catch himself from falling.
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