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#messy bed head mechanic Tony
house-of-slayterr · 2 years
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Journalistic Science
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You rolled over in your bed, groaning as your alarm went off for the third time this morning. You'd been up all night drinking, thanks to a certain someone. Your head was killing you, and your body felt sluggish. Twelve shots were certainly your maximum, no need to restest the hypothesis. You slapped the off button on your alarm clocks and slunk out of bed. As you walked passed the mirror, you stopped, you looked like shit.
You groaned, making your way over to the shower, seems like you'd be missing breakfast this morning. You didn't have time for both. After the shower, you there your hair up in a messy bun, you searched the cabinet for your contacts but were confused when you couldn't find any.
"Oh come on! Don't be out you irresponsible little shit! How did you forget to pick up more?"
You ran two your dresser, pulling out your spare glasses. They were thick, yellow-rimmed, hexegon-shaped frames. They made your eyes look huge with how strong your prescription was. But without them, you'd be useless. You pulled on your favourite sweater, intending to take it off when you got to work. You grabbed an energy drink on your way out and sped off to the Stark compound. As you made your way in, you realised you forgot your badge.
"Shit!" You swore.
A light chuckle was heard from behind you.
"Forget your badge again L/N?" Pepper's voice came from directly behind you.
You nearly jumped, caught off guard by her presence. You let out a heavy sigh, you knew her testing was playful, but you weren't in the mood today.
"Spare me the lecture please, it's been a long day." "It's only five am." She chuckled.
"Precisely."
"J.A.R.V.I.S, allow miss L/N Int the building without her badge from now on, just use the facial I.D. scanner." She instructed.
"Thank you!" you called out to her, as you rushed to the lab.
She never once looked up from her tablet, a bad habit she got into when in work mode. But she did raise a hand at you in acknowledgement. You made your way down the familiar path, keeping your head down You groaned loudly when you heard the sound of Black Sabbath blaring through the walls. You always wondered why Stark never turned on the soundproofing in the room, perhaps it was on purpose to annoy you.
"You're late." He said, also not looking up from his project.
"And you're the worst boss." You joked.
"It's not my fault, you can't handle your liquor. Company party requires your pretty face to show up."
You rolled your eyes at his comment. This man would sleep with anyone, and he practically had. You wondered if he even notices poor Pepper Potts was pining over him. She devoted herself fully to the company, as a way to distract herself from her boss. It was found upon to date at work, especially with that sort of power dynamic. But you routed for your friend anyway. She was probably the only person that talked to you besides Tony.
"Nice sweater by the way." He snickered.
You'd forgotten to take it off in your haste. It had a picture of a cat wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, drinking a latte on it. You quickly pulled it off over your head, accidentally knocking your glasses off in the process. You groaned when you heard a cark when they hit the hard lab floor. Tony paused what he was doing and came to your aid, picking up your glasses off the floor. You there your sweater on your chair and squinted at him.
"Which of the gods did I piss off today?" You asked jokingly.
He chuckled, gently grabbing your face and putting your glasses back on. It made you blush slightly, you were sure any person would in your position. It was odd how kind he was with you, you'd been how the billionaire treated other people.
"Take an extra long lunch today and go see the company optometrist, I'll have them fast-track a new pair of glasses for you. Or we could always just design you a pair that has an anti-gravity mechanism."
You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the lightheartedness was appreciated. He always knew how to make you less stressed. You pulled away, laughing awkwardly.
"Yeah, well make it the next big Stark invention, it will be so useful for the masses." You said sarcastically.
You quickly rushed over to your desk, resuming the project you were working on. Today you were probably focused on coding something that Mr Stark was working on as a side project. he was a genius, and he could just code something to code it for him, but he liked your work better. You rarely made errors, and always paid attention to details. It was one of the things he liked about you when he picked you over all the other scientists who applied for the job.
You majored in computer science, biochemistry, physics and aeronautical engineering. You were also finishing your linguistic and psychology degrees just for fun. You felt out of place if you weren't in a classroom, it made you feel incomplete. Tony always asked why you didn't just become a professor, you were more than qualified. But your response was always "And miss out on working in this dank lab with your awful music taste?" He nearly fired you the first time you said you didn't like ACDC, but Pepper convinced him he was overreacting. One of their songs came on your uber ride home that evening and you swore Tony had hacked the car's radio.
After about an hour into work, Tony scooted over to your desk, lurking behind you.
"Do you mind, boss man?" You jeered.
"Just checking in on my favourite girl."
"Weird, I didn't notice Pepper enter the lab."
You smiled when you noticed the man pause, his brain malfunctioning at the mention of the gorgeous woman. Sometimes you were jealous of her, she always had men pining over her, but never gave them the time of day. But you admired her commitment to being a powerful woman in America.
"How's the coding going?"
"What, wanna check my work?"
"Somebodies Fiesty today, remind me to make company time for naps.
You rolled my eyes. He went back over to whatever the fuck he was working on, on the other side of the room. He was always tinkering with something, but wouldn't tell me what it was. The swoosh of the lab doors sounded, but I didn't bother to look up, I knew who it was. Dr Banner, the man with 7 PHD's, god you wish you could be him. But your master's degrees weren't nearly as impressive. He didn't greet either of us, going straight to his desk and getting to work. You didn't realize you were staring up until Tony popped up by your desk again, startling me into spilling my energy drink.
You pushed back your chair, looking at the damage.
"What the fuck Tony?" You squealed.
This seemed to have caught Bruce's attention because the sound of his marker on the whiteboard stopped. Tony was doubled over, holding his stomach and laughing.
"Real Subtle L/N."
You glared at him.
"Tony, what did you do now?" Bruce said with a high.
You could hear the edge in his voice, he was stressed about something today, more so than usual. He made his way over, looking at the chaos that ensued. There was liquid on my computer, but it was Stark tech, so it wouldn't be hard to fix. But Your white t-shirt was completely soaked through, exposing your bra. You didn't notice Bruce's eyes on my chest, something you grew to expect from Tony.
"Shirt, now, I'm not putting my sweater back on." You glared at your boss.
Anyone else would probably be fired for talking to their higher-up like that, but Tony liked the sass. He hired Bruce, who you learned quickly was almost always sarcastic. Bruce was quick to take off his lab coat, wrapping it around your frame. The fabric completely covered you, being far bigger than you were.
"Thanks." You stuttered out.
He too sent a glare Tony's way, until the billionaire stopped laughing.
"Alright, alright, I'll be right back. You two kids don't have too much fun while I'm gone. Or use the lock on the door." He winked.
You scoffed. This cheeky Bastard.
"I'm sorry about him," you said, once Tony was out of earshot.
"You act like I expect anything more from him." Bruce brushed off, immediately going back to work. You sighed, I'd have to clean my keyboard and laptop or they would get sticky. But perhaps you deserved a short break. You bit your lip before my mouth spoke before my brain could catch up.
"Need any help with that?"
It was a shot in the dark, Dr Banner preferred to work alone most times. You've watched him overwork himself for months when he could have just asked for help.
"No, thank you."
"I'm not totally useless Dr Banner, I may not have 7 PHDs but you've been staring at that bored in frustration since you got in. Another set of eyes couldn't hurt."
Damn your mouth, always getting ahead of you. You didn't mean to come off as rude. Mostly because you never wanted to hurt him, but also because triggering the Hulk out, would be the worst end to your already shitty day. You heard him groan lowly, and were prepared to get reamed to hell in the back. Perhaps you deserved it.
"You wouldn't work her if you weren't incredibly smart Miss, L/N. You don't need a PHD to be a valued scientist."
His voice was softer than you were expecting, and it made me blush.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to put that on you, it wasn't fair of me to assume-"
He nodded his head toward the board, a silent invention for me to join him. You remained quiet for a moment, as you read over what he already had done. This didn't look like a project Mr Stark wanted to be done. But it wasn't rare for you to work on personal stuff when we weren't busy. You scrunched my brows together, he was working on a serum of some sort. You sighed, turning your attention to him.
"You're trying to get rid of him, aren't you?" You asked softly.
"I didn't invite you over here to pass judgment." You gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not judging you, Dr Banner, I couldn't imagine how it must feel- I'm just concerned is all. I'm not sure you're doing this with the right intentions."
"And what would be the right intentions?"
"It's not my place to say, you invited me over here to help, it was inappropriate of me to give my opinion which you didn't ask for. And you can't figure out the formula, because you're using the wrong equation. You flipped the derivatives, simple mistake."
You grabbed the marker and erased the equation, fixing it.
"Thanks." He said.
"Did you sleep last night? It's not like you to make mistake like that?"
He sighed, shaking his head.
"Did you?"
"Touche... You do know you can always come to talk to me, about anything right? I'd like to think of you as a friend Dr Banner, and I always help my friends."
You made your way back over to my desk, leaving your proposition open. You didn't want to push, but his recent behaviour was worrying you. You heard the lab door open and close again, you expected to hear the grating voice of Tony, but there was just silence. The lab was now empty, perhaps you overstepped. You slammed your face down onto your desk, letting out a huff. Which is the brilliant moment Tony decided to reappear.
"I gave you the lab all to yourselves, and you didn't even utilise it." He joked.
"Not the time, Tony. I think I royally fucked that up, so if you want to gloat, get it over with. Not only am I the worst scientist on your team, but I'm also completely useless at human interaction."
He handed you a blouse he must have grabbed from Pepper's collection, she sometimes kept clothes at work, for when she spent the night. It was a bit more girly than you were used to. You remembered to take off your cracked glasses first this time and ripped off your ruined shit.
"Woah!" Tony said.
"Relax, you act like you've never seen tits, before, mine aren't much to look at"
You could have sworn you saw him squint at them, before turning his back. A gesture you were surprised, yet grateful Tony would afford you. You looked down at your outfit.
"I look like a mess."
"You look fine." He corrected.
Bruce came back into the room, but you avoided his gaze. You had placed his lab coat back on his desk, neatly folded. What you weren’t expecting was for him to B-line over to your station. He set down a cup.
"Two creams and a teaspoon of honey, right? Pepper said that's what you liked."
You smiled at the kind gesture, taking a sip of the coffee, and letting the warmth of it slide down your throat.
"It's perfect, thank you. What do I owe you?" You asked, reaching in your backpack for your wallet.
He held up his hand, "a coffee for an equation" was all he said, before going back to work.
Tony sent you a thumbs up when Bruce had his back turned, and you rolled your eyes. The rest of the day went out without a hitch thankfully. You met Pepper upstairs, and for once she didn't have her face in her work.
"Is that my shirt?"
You pinched the bridge of your nose.
"Of course, he didn't ask you! Tony made me spill energy drink all over myself, it was this, an ugly cat sweater, or walking around with my chest out. Which seems to be frowned upon when women do it."
"I didn't think your sweater was ugly, it was cute." She joked.
"You're worse than Tony! At least I can tell when he's lying to me."
She chuckled lgihtly.
"So, are you ready for the public briefing?"
Oh shit! That was tonight?
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"The world hates me! Why do I have to go?"
"Because you helped Tony invent the damn thing. You're not calling in sick. And you're not wearing my blouse."
She grabbed your hand, leading you to the elevators. You went up to the common room floor, and she took you to a huge walk-in closet, you looked around bewildered.
"Tony keeps extra clothes for the women he toats around in front of the press."
"Why am I not surprised? What do you see in him again?"
"I ask myself that every day."
You smiled at her. She helped you for nearly half an hour, pick out an outfit. You finally settled on a suit. You weren’t comfortable in dresses.
"How do I look?" You gave her a little spin.
"Take your hair down!"
"I dont see how that will help..." "Trust me!"
So you did as she asked, taking your hair down, and brushing it back with your hand.
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"You look perfect. Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you."
"Thanks, but I thought the point was for people to listen to me."
"You're presenting to a room full of sharks my love, they don't care what a woman has to say, not saying it's right, but I won't send you in their bleeding."
"I hate men."
"Dont we all? Now go, you can't also be late, or they'll call you diva."
You were nervous, giving your speech. You hated talking in front of people. And Pepper was right, you could feel the men looking at you like you were some hunk of meat. It was disgusting. But you had Bruce and Tony by your side, which helped. Tony made jokes to the crowd to break the tension and helped you answer the journalist's rapid-fire questions. And Bruce stood with his hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles, which you were grateful for. He normally wasn't quick to physical contact, so it meant more to you than he would ever know.
As it came to a close, you were more than ready to leave. You hated wearing heels. You bid farewell to your coworkers, who were getting swamped by reporters. But you were stopped by your own reporter on the way out.
"I must say, darling, your speech was rousing, but I think the people would rather know where you got that pretty outfit from." He slurred out.
He was clearly drunk, you rolled your eyes, attempting to push past him. He, however, didn't like your response and grabbed your wrist. You paused, unsure of what to do, you didn't want to cause a scene and wanted to handle this like a rational adult. But you hated being touched, let alone without your consent, anyone would.
"Please, let go of me." You said softly.
You supposed maybe he didn't hear you, foolishly giving this man the benefit of the doubt.
"I said, let go!" You said louder.
This gained the attention of a few people close by. But none of them did anything but stare, except for one man.
"I think she asked you to let go, buddy, are you deaf, or just stupid?" The man asked.
He looked mildly familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint him from anywhere.
"Stay out of this Brock." The man spat.
Apparently, that was the wrong answer because this guy stepped up to him.
"I won't ask you again, to let the pretty lady go..."
You cursed yourself for blushing at a time like this, but he was rather attractive. And he was standing up for you, what's not to like? You tried to squirm away while he was distracted, but he tightened his grip, causing you to whimper. This set Mr Brock off. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a punch was thrown, and the man was being lifted into the air by his collar.
"If you ever put your hands on a woman like that again, I will cut them off!" He said, throwing the man down on the floor.
You stood bewildered, he didn't look that strong yet he picked up a man twice his size. A crowd was drawn now, and you grew self-conscious under everyone's gaze. You rubbed at your now sore wrist and kept your gaze on the floor, the man was quick to approach you and block your body from the countless journalist trying to take photos of what just happened.
"Are you alright Miss L/N?"
"You- you know my name?" You asked, surprised.
"I am at your Biochemistry demonstration, am I not?"
You blushed madly, forgetting that most of the people in the room were actually there for you. Technically for "Stark's Apprentice" You didn't expect anyone to learn your name, let alone remember it.
"I'm ok," You said quickly, "It doesnt hurt that bad."
"I swear I should eat him." You thought you heard him mumble.
"What was that?"
"I said I should have beat him, more... nobody deserves to be handled like you were. He'll be lucky if he still has a job by the morning after I'm done slandering him." He offered, trying to lighten the mood.
"You dont have to do that Mr-" "Call me Eddie, Eddie Brock."
Tony quickly caught onto the commotion, making his way through the crowd over to you. He forgot to announce himself before placing a hand on your back, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, Eddie was quick to react, but you were faster, cutting him off.
"Relax, it's just my boss."
"What happened over here?"
"This idiot thought he could put his hands on her and get away with it." Eddie pointed to the man who was still writhing on the ground with a broken nose.
Tony glared at the young reporter.
"My employer can speak for herself, pretty boy." He said, going into overprotective mode.
You said, annoyed at the macho energy that was crowding your space.
"If the both of you dont shut up, I'm punching each of you in the dick."
Eddie laughed, not realising you were being serious. Once he caught your gaze though, he raised his hand in surrender.
"I didn't mean to insinuate you could defend yourself, but I've been looking for a reason to punch that idiot for years now." He laughed.
"Want me to file a case against him?" Tony asked.
"Naw." You said.
You moved passed both men, crouching down to the ground in front of the whip who tried to hurt you. You lifted his chin, making him look at you.
"I believe in second chances, but you won't be getting a third. Go home, sobber up, and think about how much of a failure you are. I'm sure you're mothers very disappointed." You scolded.
Before he could respond, you took your other hand, and straightened his broken nose, he let out a scream. You slapped his cheek for emphasis, before going back to your boss and new protector.
"I can have Happy drive you home," Tony suggested.
"I don't think I want to go home right now." You sighed.
"Care for some dinner?" Eddie suggested.
You thought it over. You had a crush on Bruce, but you didn't think you'd ever be good enough for him. Maybe you could give the handsome reporter a chance. He was kind and hilarious, you felt bad using him as an emotional rebound. But it didn't seem like he was expecting anything out of this offer.
"I would love some dinner, Mr Brock." You smiled at him.
Tony gave you his signature look, and you once again found yourself rolling your eyes for what felt like the thousandth tie that day. Perhaps your day was looking up. You managed to get a date with Eddie Brock, what else could you do?
AN: Nobody asked, but I haven't written like anything marvel, so ignore the self-indulgence here. I just wanted to write this for myself. I'm busy at work this weekend, but I'll get to requests soon, I promise. Love you all!
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carelessannie · 3 years
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Okay okay but—
This Peter with This Tony
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I have SO many thoughts about this right now.
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(Link to artists above, but I didn’t tag them in case if they are uncomfortable with Starker content)
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nev3rfound · 3 years
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glass : b.b
after a messy breakup with your boyfriend, you can’t help but be a tad bit reckless during a mission leaving bucky to help pick up the pieces and learn why you’re acting the way you are. (2.5k) 
warnings: mentions of blood, violence, wounds, breakups 
masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)
also hi, we’re almost at 5k which is amazing and i’m planning a little giveaway! sorry if i’ve been quiet this week, i have been hooked with the ‘shatter me’ series and i can’t get enough lmao. but i do have more pieces in the works :)
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Sitting in the Quinjet, you could barely register what Tony was saying as the words that were practically spat at you last night circulated your thoughts.
“Y/n?” You flinch at the call of your name, breaking you from the trance-like state you were in.
Steve smiles warmly as he takes the seat beside you as prying eyes watch closely, noting the change in your mood the moment you boarded the jet.
“Sorry,” You mutter to Steve. “late night.”
Nodding in response, Steve glances over to a concerned Bucky whose brows remain knitted together. Usually, you would sit with Bucky, joke around with him and Sam about all sorts. Yet today, you boarded the jet and sat alone, closing your eyes and blocked everyone out.
“Tell me ‘bout it.” Steve playfully huffs, trying to incite some form of reaction, but you remain silent. “Listen, if you wanna talk,”
“Thanks, Steve.” You cut him off, forcing your lips upward. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
With that being his cue to leave you be, Steve shakes his head to Bucky as he wanders back toward Tony, organising the final details of the plan before you land.
“Okay team, descending now, arriving in less than ten.” Tony announces, ensuring he has everyone's attention- including yours. “So, Cap, you and Romanoff will head straight for the side entrance whilst Wilson and Barnes take the back. I want Y/L/N and Barton to head for the hostages.” Tony explains, watching as you all nod along.
“And what will you be doing, Tony?” Steve asks as he picks his shield up.
“I will be with Wanda,” Tony states as Wanda playfully salutes. “on standby in case something goes wrong.”
“Not that it will.” Wanda comments but quirks a brow to Sam who holds his hands up in defence.
“That was a one-time thing, witchy.” Sam retorts, causing Tony to roll his eyes once again at the team's antics.
“Anyway, get ready.” Tony finishes before retreating toward the pilot whilst everyone gathers their weapons.
Whilst grabbing your gun and placing it into your holster, you notice the small bruise forming on your wrist as your sleeve rises slightly. You quickly tug on it, thinking nothing of it as you reach for the set of knives you usually carry.
Yet Bucky noticed, it was impossible for Bucky to not notice the smallest of details about you. His heart ached at the sight. You’re known for being clumsy and would often laugh about the matter. If you got a bruise, you’d joke about it, explain how this one happened in another idiotic motion as opposed to hiding it.
“You ready for this one, Y/n?” Clint speaks up as he appears by your side, counting his arrows as you tighten your grip on your favourite knife, causing your knuckles to lighten in colour.
“As I’ll ever be.” You remark as the Quinjet door opens and you all walk out, splitting up into different directions.
*
It wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t prepared enough as a team for what you encountered inside the building.
You reached the hostages and quickly untied them. They thanked you senselessly whilst Clint remained on guard, keeping a close eye on the door as you helped them to their feet.
“Who are you?” One man speaks up, his voice hoarse as he grips your arms for dear life.
“We’re the Avengers.” You softly tell the man, watching as the fear in his expression lightens, and he starts to laugh maniacally in your face.
Trying to prise yourself from his grasp, his nails dig into your skin. “You made a mistake coming here.” He states, breaking his gaze from you momentarily, giving you a chance to slam your foot into his.
With the man's grip easing, you snap yourself from his embrace and hit him with the butt of your gun. He falls to the ground, and you raise your gun to everyone else in the room.
“Who else is a plant?” You ask, looking at all of the terrified faces staring back at you. “Who else?!” You repeat yourself, adrenaline rushing through you before you fire your gun into the ceiling as they all jump.
Clint whips his head around, evidently shocked having never seen you react this way before. “Y/n,” He speaks up, but you ignore him, keeping your attention fixated on the ‘hostages’ before you.
“No one, Ma’am.” A little girl announces as she releases her mother's hand, stepping toward you. She looks up at you with her bright brown eyes and holds her hand out. “Are you here to save us?” She questions.
Kneeling down in front of the girl, you smile softly, your cool exterior melting. “Yes, and you’re all going to be okay, I promise.” You tell her, breaking your gaze as you look around at everyone else.
“Y/n, now.” Clint states as you rise to your feet, holding your hand out to the little girl who gladly accepts.
“Okay, follow me, you’ll all be safe if you stay close.” You explain to the dozen hostages who huddle together, following behind you and Clint.
“Tony? We have them, there was a plant, tell the others.” Clint speaks through the comms as he walks ahead, his bow at the ready in case anyone else lingers in the corridors.
Glancing over your shoulder, you check to ensure the hostages are still with you. Whilst your head is turned, you hear Clint groan and fall to the ground with a thud.
“Clint?” You rush forward whilst the hostages remain still. Holding your gun up, you turn the corner, catching sight of a man stood with his gun aimed at Clint’s unconscious body. “Corridor seven, ground floor.” You speak up, hoping someone hears you through the comms.
The man before you smirks as his gun is now aimed at you whilst you mirror his actions, not daring to let your hands shake as his words ring through your ears.
“You really think that’s a wise move?” He asks, removing the safety from his gun.
“I’m not one to go down without a fight.” You state, hearing a collection of footsteps echo behind the man as a glint of metal flashes across your eyes.
The man's focus shifts to behind you, but his gun remains trained to you. “Ah, I see we have a friend.” He chuckles and you can feel your heart rate increasing as the little girl stands by your side.
“She has us.” The girl states, standing tall as the hostages emerge and gather behind you.
Sighing under his breath, the man clicks his tongue. “Well, this is sweet and all, but you’re not making it out of here alive.” He scoffs, lowering his gun to the little girl.
Everything plays too quickly for Bucky’s liking as he runs toward the man, his arms outstretched and fists clenched.
Upon watching the man pull back the trigger, you force the little girl back, feeling the impact of the bullet hit your stomach. Another shot rings through your ears, but you’re already down on the ground, curled up.
Bucky steps over the man's body, not caring to step in the blood that pools around his head as he rushes toward you.
“Hey, doll, stay awake for me, okay?” Bucky pleads, brushing your hair out of your face as he glances down, noticing your fingers are coated in crimson. “Sam, get Tony, now!” He yells, picking you up in his arms as both Steve and Natasha appear, taking in the sight before them.
Bucky looks over to Steve, and he doesn’t need to say anything. “Go, we’ll handle it.” Steve nods to Bucky as you hang in his arms, eyes barely open.
Rushing past the hostages who stare with wide eyes, Bucky keeps his on you. “Come on, Y/n,” Bucky mutters as the cool breeze hits his face, feeling you move in his arms and bury your face into his chest.
“I’m cold,” You mumble tiredly, barely able to keep your eyes open as they droop heavily. “just five minutes.”
“No, don’t you dare,” Bucky firmly tells you as the Quinjet comes into view, the sight of worry evident in Wanda’s expression as she meets Bucky halfway, guiding him into the jet.
“What happened?” Wanda asks as Bucky places you down on the ground, reaching for the medical supplies on board with urgency, ripping out various weapons and mechanical items until he finds some form of bandages.
“She tried to save a little girl,” Bucky sighs as Wanda cradles your head, her fingers hovering over your temples as a red glow forms whilst Bucky applies pressure to the wounds, watching as they soak instantly from your blood. “we, we have to go, now!” He yells to Wanda who barely flinches.
“Tony? Can you handle this?” Wanda questions through the comms.
“Just get Y/n back, we’ll sort this out.” Tony responds, trying to hide the fear in his tone for the younger Avenger, one he can’t help but view as a daughter in many respects.
“She wants to be strong,” Wanda whispers, hearing your thoughts as you drift further and further away from consciousness. “but she’s scared. I, I can hear his voice.” Wanda trails off as Bucky tenses up, knowing exactly who she means.
Bucky can feel his heartbreaking as the Quinjet flies through the air at an accelerated rate back to the compound.
“Oh Y/n, you’ve got so much coming for you,” Bucky takes one of your hands in his, gripping it tightly as he focuses on your face, the light disappearing from your complexion. “don’t go, not now, doll.”
*
Lying in your own bed, you remain in a deep sleep whilst Bucky hovers by your bedside. Ever since you were brought back and cleared, he insisted you’d feel more comfortable in your own room.
“Anything?” Wanda speaks up, peering in your doorway as your chest rises and falls rhythmically. Bucky shakes his head in response, aware of Wanda approaching your bed as she perches on the edge, her fingertips dancing over your head.
Wanda quickly pulls her hand away, the red wisps disappearing as she avoids Bucky’s cold gaze. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” Wanda mutters, moving your hair out of your face. “but something happened before the mission, something to do with him.” Wanda sighs. “I just, I can’t tell what it was.” She explains as Bucky keeps a straight face, unable to take his eyes off the various bruises now exposed on your skin, the cuts and scars forming alongside them.
“She’s always been agile on missions, even if she’s clumsy.” Bucky breathes out, uncrossing his arms from his chest. “But she’s careful, she’s always careful.” He repeats to himself, wondering why you’d risk yourself like that when it could’ve been avoided.
“I had to,” You mumble, your eyes now beginning to open as you look up to your two friends, forcing your lips upwards. “did I miss much?”
A chuckle escapes Wanda as she looks over to Bucky, seeing the concern in his face refusing to ease. “I’m sure Bucky will fill you in.” Wanda tells you as she touches your hand before heading to the door. “It’s good to see you awake, Y/n/n.” She smiles at you whilst Bucky slowly moves closer to your bed, his legs leaning against the frame.
“So,” You sigh, still feeling your muscles burning beneath the covers on top of you. “is everyone safe?”
Trying to hold back the scoff building, Bucky simply nods.
“Good,” You nod to yourself, a sense of relief crossing your system. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Worked out?” Bucky snaps, noting your eyes widening as you struggle to sit upright without wincing. “No, don’t try and move,” His voice softens momentarily, forcing you to remain still. “Y/n, you think almost dying is a mission ‘working out', really?” He huffs loudly.
“Look, the hostages are safe, the team holding them was taken care of so yes, Bucky, I do think it worked out.” You bark back, your tone rising.
“God, you’re an idiot sometimes.” Bucky remarks, turning away from you as you look down at your lap.
“Max said that too,” You mumble.
Turning on his heels, Bucky focuses on you closely. “He said what?”
It was no secret Bucky wasn’t the fondest of your now ex-boyfriend, Max. He tolerated him for your sake, not wanting to lose your best friend in the midst of a relationship. But Max was never the most understanding, and this is just another reason Bucky mentally adds to his list of why Max was a lousy boyfriend.
“Forget it,” You brush it off, refusing to meet Bucky’s cold blue eyes. “it was nothing, I went to get the last of my things the other night and, and we had an argument.”
“What did he say to you, Y/n?” Bucky persists as he now sits down on your bed, his hands remaining in his own lap as you play with yours, fidgeting.
“He said I’m too fragile for my own good,” You admit, hearing his bitter words ringing through your head. “that I’m weak, and I shouldn’t even be an Avenger.”
Bucky can feel his blood boiling, the list in his mind becoming mere shreds of paper as he imagines what he’ll do to Max if he sees him again.
“And maybe I am, he said I’m broken goods,” You add, lifting the sheets from your body to reveal the stitching in your skin where the bullet was. “what difference does one more scar make?”
“You don’t believe him, do you doll?” Bucky asks sadly, afraid he already knows the answer.
Your prolonged silence only causes Bucky’s heart to sink further into his chest.
“Y/n,” Bucky speaks up, taking your hand in his. “you’re not broken goods, you’re not made of glass that shatters easily.” He explains, unable to meet your teary gaze. “You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I’ve ever met, you’re not fragile, doll.” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, avoiding the fresh scuffs lacing your knuckles.
“You think so?” You whisper as tears fall down your cheeks before you can stop them.
Now catching your eyes, Bucky smiles softly. “I do, Y/n.” He admits, watching you struggle to shuffle in your bed as you force back a whimper.
Patting the spot beside you, Bucky raises a brow. “Will you stay, Bucky, please?” You whisper, too afraid of your own voice.
“As long as you know you’re worth so much more than him, Y/n, okay?” Bucky asks as he lifts his arm up, wrapping it around you as you curl up into his chest. “You deserve the world, doll.” He mutters, feeling your grip around his waist loosen as your breathing softens. “And I promise to show you someday.”
Bucky brushes his lips across your forehead as light snores leave your lips, unaware of the promise Bucky has made to you and intends to keep it.  
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spidercakes · 3 years
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A/B/O somnophilia AU in which alpha!Tony absolutely rails omega!Peter.
Warnings: age difference (Peter is in his early 20′s and Tony is in his late 30′3/ early 40′s- imagine whatever you like lol), dub con (somnophilia), rough sex, A/B/O, Very Strong Dom/sub vibes, fem!Peter.
*
Tony wakes up with Peter curled up in front of him, his back against Tony’s chest. In his sleep he’d leaned in, face buried in the crook of Peter’s neck where it connects with his shoulder and he kisses it lightly as he stretches out some, careful not to disturb Peter. The dorm room bed is awful, but its exam week and Peter is sort of tethered to campus at the moment, and Tony’s not an ass, its not like he’ll die in this bed. He’ll just feel like he wants to in the morning.
Peter makes a soft noise in his sleep, wiggling his ass directly into Tony’s dick. He chokes on his gasp, hand grabbing Peter’s hip as he presses his forehead to Peter’s bare shoulder, exposed by his shirt slipping down. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks, if not for the fact that Peter had admitted, rather shyly, that he’s always been curious about sleep sex and Tony never would have guessed that Peter would share that particular kink. To be fair Peter seemed surprised that he was so into it, but somnophilia happens to be at the top of the list of things he’s into.
Its more of a bad habit he’s developed, sliding his hand up Peter’s thigh and under the too big sleep shirt he’s wearing, but this is the first time he’s found what he was looking for. He moans softly into Peter’s shoulder, considering the possibility that this is some kind of fluke, but they’ve discussed it before. Several times. But then its Peter’s normal habit to sleep without underwear anyway, the fact that he’s slept with them on is weird and- he’s overthinking it. Peter isn’t stupid, and he might be stressed but he’s never really been forgetful- he highly doubts Peter just forgot the time he’d mentioned the easiest consent mechanism for somnophilia. Underwear, no. No underwear, yes.
“Fuck,” he whispers, kissing Peter’s shoulder, continuing his path until his teeth are grazing his neck. Peter makes another small, soft noise in his sleep and Tony can feel his cock twitch, getting hard fast now that he knows what Peter is offering. “Bet you’re already wet for me,” Tony murmurs, reaching down and feeling himself through his flannel pajama pants for a moment before he reaches out and slides Peter’s shirt up over his hips. His ass is gorgeous, and when Tony shifts Peter’s leg to the side to give him better access to his hole Peter cooperates, moving a little and resettling himself with one leg hitched up, hips and ass still pointed in Tony’s direction.
So fucking perfect, just like always. He slides his hand over Peter’s ass, gripping one cheek and spreading him open, cock twitching again when he finds exactly what he thought it would. He lets go of Peter’s ass, leaning in and scenting him as he grabs his hip, rutting his mostly hard cock along his ass and moaning when he smells how fucking hot Peter must be for it. Arousal is practically falling off him in waves, even asleep, and Tony can’t hold back anymore. He doesn’t bother taking his pants off, he just pulls the waistband under his cock and balls before leaning back in and rubbing himself against Peter without anything in the way.
Peter, ever so cooperative, tilts his hips back into Tony’s. He laughs softly, “that’s right baby, give me that pretty little hole,” he murmurs, feeling at Peter’s wet hole for a moment before he pulls back to jerk himself off. Peter looks fucking delicious laid out in front of him, horny and wet for Tony and he isn’t even awake. The small, desperate noise he lets out as rubs his cock between Peter’s cheeks, catching the rim of his wet hole really can’t be helped. He feels so fucking good against Tony’s cock, slick already starting to get messy as Tony   uses his cock to play with Peter’s hole.
It sucks his head in greedily, gripping him tightly and Tony lets out a choked moan as he pulls himself back out, rubbing his cock against Peter’s hole for a moment before sliding back in. His moan is louder this time, nose buried in Peter’s neck as he scents him, sliding himself in deeper as he begins to move slowly at first, but his patience doesn’t last very long. He’s wanted Peter to let him do this since the moment they met, and he brought it up over a month ago. Its been fucking torture knowing Peter wants this as much as he does, and he can’t help the way he buries himself inside Peter.
The sound of Peter’s slick makes him harder as he moves, grabbing Peter’s hip as he settles himself between his legs, pinning him down as he fucks into him enthusiastically. It doesn’t take long for Peter to wake up moaning, hand flying back and settling over Tony’s on his hip as he grinds his ass back onto his cock. “That’s it baby, show me how much you like my cock,” Tony tells him roughly, teeth harshly biting at Peter’s neck.
“Fuck,” Peter all but yells, back arching as he grinds himself back onto Tony again, wiggling his ass as he pants loudly. “Oh my god Tony please,” he says desperately, gasping as Tony pulls his hand out from under Peter’s, grabbing his wrist and pinning it above his head.
“Fucking take it,” Tony basically growls, “you make my cock feel so fucking good,” he adds, biting at Peter’s shoulder roughly. 
The sharp yelp Peter lets out as his hips involuntarily tip up to take Tony in further encourages him, grip on Peter’s wrist tight as he takes what he wants. Peter is so good, so fucking good as Tony fucks him hard and rough, bed shaking enough that Tony might wonder about its structural integrity if he were in the right state of mind.
“Please, Tony,” Peter begs, voice high and desperate with arousal, moaning loudly when Tony lets go of his wrist and wraps his hand around the back of Peter’s neck instead, pushing him hard into the mattress as he fucks into Peter deep. Tony watches his cock move in and out of Peter’s hole, slick dripping down his thighs he’s so wet and he knows he has to knot him.
He smacks Peter’s ass hard with his free hand, moaning as potent scent of horny omega drives him closer to the edge. “Gunna knot that pretty little ass of yours, make sure you know who owns it,” he tells Peter, fucking into him fast.
“Yes,” Peter breathes out softly, “need it Tony, please,” he adds between all these hot little noises he keeps making.
“Mmm not gunna last much longer, sluttly little hole is so god damn tight on me baby, make me want you so fucking bad,” Tony tells him, leaning in and biting at Peter’s shoulder before resting his head against it as he pumps himself in and out of Peter’s hole, mouth dropped open in pleasure because this might be the best Peter has ever felt.
The way Peter feels when he wiggles underneath him is divine, “oh my god I’m cumming, I’m cumming Tony ah-” Peter’s voice is muffled due to being pressed into his pillow and Tony can fucking hold back knowing Peter came on nothing but his cock.
“Fuck yes, baby, s’what you’re fucking made for,” Tony tells him, knot swelling in Peter’s ass, helped along by Peter grinding back onto it panting like he can’t get enough even after cumming. It takes a few minutes of him rocking gently into Peter for him to calm down enough to let Peter up, scenting at his neck immediately and making a pleased noise when Peter immediately tilts his head to the side for him. 
“Mm, thanks,” Peter murmurs, moaning softly as Tony’s teeth graze his neck.
Tony laughs, nipping at Peter’s neck again just because it feels so damn good when Peter’s muscles clench down on his knot, “my pleasure.” Like it’s a hardship to fuck Peter on the best of days let alone when he’s been handed his favorite kink on a platter. As a reward he sucks lightly at the sensitive skin on Peter’s neck, biting at the spot before sucking at it again, intent on leaving a mark.
The soft noises Peter makes as Tony continues to stuck marks into his skin encourage him, making him moan as he rocks into Peter. The knock on the door, however, does not.
*
He sits with his head in his hand, embarrassed. “I can’t believe i had the campus cops called on me,” Tony says.
Rhodey doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, flipping the page casually even though Tony damn well knows he’s not reading it. He’s just a dramatic bitch. “That’s what you get for cradle robbing,” he says, shrugging.
He sputters, betrayed by Rhodey so he turns to Nat, who grins. “I don’t feel bad for you either but only because its funny,” she says.
“Someone thought I assaulted Peter, that is so not funny,” he tells her. In their defense, when he’d played that back over without knowledge of what was going on he guesses that whole thing did sound pretty suspect but still.
He looks to Pepper, his last resort and he knows he’s going to get dropped on his ass but he’s still got hope. “Don’t even,” Rhodey tells him, still not looking up from the paper he isn’t reading. “She has common sense so she’s on my side.”
Tony turns back to Pepper, who pauses long enough for Rhodey to look up at her, giving her a suspicious look. “To be fair, Tony and I had that happen once when we were together and it was awful I’m so sorry you managed to do that twice,” Pepper tells him.
Vindicated he stands up, “ha!” he says to Rhodey, who is staring between him and Pepper like he’s just been told that they’re aliens, and they know because bees.
“Wait, what the fuck am I missing you two had what happen to you?” he asks.
“To be fair,” Tony says, “i completely forgot about the time I got the campus cops called on me with Pepper.”
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flourgirl · 3 years
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Sleepyhead
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.
Work Count: 11.2k
Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.
A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3
“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo
Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you. 
He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.
You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.
It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.
Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time. 
The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.
“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”
You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”
He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.
“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”
“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.” 
That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.
“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.
“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.
“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”
You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”
“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”
Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.
The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.
“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”
Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.
“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”
“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?
“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”
“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.
“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”
“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up. 
“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”
Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”
“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.
Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.
He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.
“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”
If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.
Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.
He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.
All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.
Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.
“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.
“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”
“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”
“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”
“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”
“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.
“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”
“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.
“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.
“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”
“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”
“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.
“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.
“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.
“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”
“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”
“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.
He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.
“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.
His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.
----------------
“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”
He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.
“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.
You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”
Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.
“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”
You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.
Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.
“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.
Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.
“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”
Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.
The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.
Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it. 
Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.
When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.
His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.
“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”
You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”
“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”
Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.
“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”
You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.
In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face. 
It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.
“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.
“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”
“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”
“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”
“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”
----------------
You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.
One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.
“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”
He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter. 
“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.
“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”
“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.
“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”
“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you. 
“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.
“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.
It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket. 
“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.
“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.
“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”
Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.
“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.
“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”
“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”
“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”
“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.
“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.
“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.
“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.
“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.
“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”
“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.
“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”
“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”
Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat. 
“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”
He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.
“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”
“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.” 
You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.
----------------
You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.
“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”
Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.
“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.
“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.
“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad. 
“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”
Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.
“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”
“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.
“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”
“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.
“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?
“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.
“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”
“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”
“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.
“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”
Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.
“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.
“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.
“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.
“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.
“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.
----------------
“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”
“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.
“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”
“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.
“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”
“You’re so mean.”
“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”
“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.
“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”
“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.
“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.
“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”
“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.
“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”
“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.
“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”
“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.
“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.
“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”
You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.
“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.
“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.” 
“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”
“Do you like it here?”
“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”
“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.
It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.
“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.
“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.
“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”
You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.
“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”
There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”
“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.
A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.
“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before. 
The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up. 
“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”
“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore. 
Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.
----------------
Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.
You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.
“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”
“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”
“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished. 
“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”
“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”
“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.
Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.
“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”
You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.
“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.
“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.
“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”
“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”
He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.
“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.
“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”
“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”
“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.
“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.
“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”
“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”
“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”
“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.
“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.
“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”
“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—
“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”
“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.
“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”
“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”
“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”
“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”
“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.
“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.
----------------
A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.
He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.
“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.
“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.
“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”
“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.
He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.
“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”
“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”
Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.
“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.
“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”
“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”
“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.
“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”
“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”
“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”
“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”
“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”
“Maybe it will, tonight.”
It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.
“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”
You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”
“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”
You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”
Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.
“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”
“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”
For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.
“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”
“I’m really glad I met you too.”
----------------
Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions. 
“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.
“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”
“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”
“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”
“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.
“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.
“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”
“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.
“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”
“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.
Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.
“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.
“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”
“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.
“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.
“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”
“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”
“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”
You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.
“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.
“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him. 
For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.
“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.
“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”
“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.
“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.
“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”
Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”
“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”
“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.
On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.
“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”
“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”
“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”
“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”
“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”
----------------
Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.
“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.
“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.
“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.
“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”
“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.
“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.
“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.
“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.
“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.
“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.
“I’m not.”
“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”
“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”
“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.
“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”
“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”
“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”
“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”
You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.
“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.
“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”
Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”
----------------
Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.
Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.
“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”
“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”
“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”
“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”
You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.
“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago. 
“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”
He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.
A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight. 
“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”
“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”
Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.
“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.
“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.
“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”
“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.
“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.
“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.
“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.
“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”
“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.
“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.
“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”
“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.
----------------
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Text
Mature — Peter Parker (th)
peter parker (th) masterlist
summary: you’ve always had a childhood crush on your father’s mentee.
a/n: this is the messiest thing I’ve ever written. i may end up adding to it later on, idk. they don’t date after this. idk i think that would be weird
content: angst, death, gender netural reader, stark reader, precocious crush
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"Y/n/n?" Tony called out in the tower for his child. You stopped sparring — really just Natasha pretending to have her ass beaten by a ten year old — and popped your head out of the training room and into the hallway,
"Yeah, dad?"
"Who's that spider thing you've been obsessed with? On YouTube?" Your eyes lit up,
"Spider-Man!" Despite being surrounded by heroes all the time, you admired Spider-Man more than any other. You were a small kid in a really big world — galaxy — and the red and blue sweatshirt wearing hero emitted the same energy.
"Yeah, that one. You said he's in Queens?" You excitedly nodded,
"Are you going to make him an Avenger? Is he going to live in the tower?" Tony shook his head,
"I don't think so... he'll probably just be recruited for one mission." You bounced on her heels,
"Can I meet him?" He chuckled,
"Sure, kiddo."
———
"Alright, Y/n/n break out the colored pencils, we have a suit to design,"  Tony pulled a chair in his lab out for you to sit in. 
You weren’t quite old enough to grasp all of the mechanics behind the technology — although, you did have an incredible understanding for your age — but your artistic abilities came in handy.  You pouted,
"Dad, I'm not a kid anymore I don't use colored pencils."  Tony rolled his eyes and handed you a tablet,
"Fine, break out the stylus, we have a suit to design." You opened a drawing program and pulled up pictures of Spider-Man, looking at his homemade suit,
"Why does he have weird googles?"
"Enhanced senses, including eyesight. They help him focus his eyes, but they are a nightmare to look through if you're normal." You frowned,
"Like me?" Tony ruffled your hair — making it a mess to brush through later — and kissed the top of your head, his beard tickling at your scalp,
"You're extraordinary."
You grinned, turning back to the screen in front of you and gripping the stylus in your hand. You drew a messy sketch then sectioned off the suit where it would be red versus blue. After that, you drew in the eyes, making them white just like in his current suit. Then you added final details, the web shooters that your father told you about, the web lines that went across the whole suit, and a little spider silhouette in the center of the chest. You passed the tablet over to Tony,
"Finished." He nodded in approval before turning to his workbench and started making the suit.
You sat off to the side, pitching in ideas — yelling ideas over the music — like the spider logo being a drone and having as you put it, seat warmers but like, for the whole thing. He also bounced ideas off of you, should I add a parachute? You would nod, you should always add a parachute.
When the sunlight faded to darkness, Pepper came down to the lab,
"Time for bed, Y/n/n."
Tony lifted his welding helmet and awkwardly waved at Pepper. Normally he would argue with her, but they were already on rocky terms, her believing that he was too obsessed with being Iron Man. He knew keeping his child up late to build a suit would only make things worse. You looked to your father with pleading eyes. He sighed,
"You heard her, time for bed." You rolled her eyes and hopped off of a stool,
"I'm too old for a bedtime." Pepper laughed,
"It's past your father's bedtime too, but there's nothing I can do about that."
———
"You can't take them to Germany!" Pepper protested when she learned of Tony's plans. "They'll be fighting in Germany!"
Pepper Potts wasn't your mother, but she sure acted like it. Tony shook his head,
"No one will be after them, it's people we know, people we trust there. And they really want to meet the spider kid."
"Spider-Man," you corrected. Tony sighed and turned around to face you,
"You're supposed to be packing."
"Finished." He glanced at his watch,
"Then we can leave an hour early. Get some cheeseburgers." Pepper gave him a disappointed glare,
"You can't just feed them cheeseburgers. You're in Belgium, get Belgium food."
"Chocolate, waffles, and fries!" You grinned. Tony placed a hand on your shoulder,
"Great idea, we'll get chocolate, waffles, and fries. You’ve got a great mind." He looked down to you, "And did you hear Pepper? She gave up and admitted you're going to Germany with me." Pepper sighed and shook her head,
"Go have fun."
———
You sat in your hotel room, very full of food as you waited for your father to be done with his stupid airport battle. You watched tv, not understanding a word of German that was spoken. When you heard the snores of Happy in the common area of the suite, you laughed, turning the television off and sneaking out of the hotel room, only to hear a familiar voice about to turn the corner.
"They got away, I can't believe they got away."
You panicked and scrambled back into the suite, into your bedroom, and turned the TV on again, acting like you were there the whole time.  You looked up when your door clicked open,
"What happened?"  Your father sighed and sat down next to you on the bed,
"Nothing good." You turned the TV off — again — and sat up,
"They got away?"
"Yes, they got away." You hummed, not sure what to say. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" You fiddled with the hem of your shirt,
"I don't think it's necessarily nice chasing after Steve. And it's a possibility that less saving will get done with the accords signed. But if it's done right, I think it'll save some more lives."
"I feel like you avoided the question."
"Yeah, I think you're doing the right thing by signing the accords. Chasing Steve down is more questionable.  He's your teammate and friend."  Tony put an arm around your shoulder,
"Why do you have to be so reasonable?"  You shrugged,
"I don't know, it's certainly not how I was raised."  He rolled his eyes and playfully shoved your head forward.
———
"Peter," Tony started.  "This is my child, Y/n—"
"Y/n Y/m/n Stark," Peter interrupted.  "You're Mr. Stark's kid!  That's awesome!  What's it like living with the Avengers?"
"I—it's alright, I mean, there's barely any Avengers left now,"  you frowned.  "But before it was cool.  Um, except for Vision not understanding what a door is... or this one time Thor left Mjolnir on my homework, and I couldn't do it...”
"Who's your favorite superhero?"  He leaned down to whisper in her your,  "Mines your dad."  You giggled and looked up at your father,
"Really?  He's not that cool."  Tony placed a hand over his heart,
"That one hurt, Y/n."  You rolled your eyes,
"What?  You don't have powers or anything."
"Natasha doesn't have powers and she's your second favorite."
"Nat's cooler than you.  She can do a backflip.  And break most bones in the human body."
"I can do a backflip..." Peter mumbled.  Tony laughed,
"Yeah, that's why you're their favorite hero."  You glared at him,
"Dad!"
"They talk about Spider-Man all the time, it's like they have a little crush on you."  Your glare only grew more intense.  He put his hands up in defense,  "You said I wasn't cool."  Peter's eyes glistened,
"I'm your favorite hero?  I'm someone's favorite hero?"  You shyly nodded.  "That's epic!"
———
"Hey Parker,"  you acknowledged Peter when he entered the new Avengers facility for the first time with Happy. 
"You can call me Peter, you know."  You shrugged,
"Maybe I like your last name."  Your father placed a hand on you shoulder,
"Alright, Y/n/n.  Peter and I need to talk."  You smiled before walking off, already knowing that Peter was going to be offered the title of Avenger.
———
"Hey, Y/n/n," Peter walked by you as you sat in the kitchen, copying down notes for your online school. You looked up,
"He's in the lab." Peter nodded and opened the fridge,
"I know. I was just down there. He told me to get snacks."
"I could call Happy, ask him to stop by Burger King." Peter shook his head,
"S'okay, kid." You cringed at the name, but he didn't notice, too busy searching the fridge. "See? Sandwiches," He pulled out a large plate of turkey sandwiches that you prepared the night before, knowing that one of the guys would be up here looking for food.
Ever since he took down the Vulture, Peter's been coming up to the Avengers facility with more and more frequency. Now, a few years later, it was completely normal. Your phone dinged, notifying you of a text. Peter slid a bottle of chocolate milk across the counter to you,
"Who's that? Last I checked, you don't have friends." You rolled your eyes as you opened the bottle,
"Brad Davis. I met him at a park last week." Peter raised a brow,
"And you gave him your number? Bold. I could never." You nodded,
"I know."
"But you've always been bold. Do you like this, Brad?"
"Not all, I like someone else." He opened his own bottle of chocolate milk,
"There's the boldness. I'm too old for you." You shrugged,
"Maybe now. But one day, you'll be twenty five and I'll be twenty, and five years won't look like as much." He took a swig of the drink, leaving some of it on his upper lip,
"I'll still be more mature than you." You stifled a laugh as you slowly nodded,
"Yeah, real mature, Parker."
———
You were supposed to be asleep.  But how could you be when your father was supposed to come home right now.  You stood by the window, and ran out when you saw a glowing lady — Carol Danvers — carry a spaceship down. 
Pepper had just pulled away from a hug with Tony when you finally ran across the field and attacked him with a hug of your own.  Your tears dampened his shirt as he held you close.
"I— I thought that maybe—"  He shushed you and stroked your hair,
"I know."
———
You grabbed the suit you’ve been building over the past five years and put it on the second Pepper left in her Rescue suit.  You felt a tap through the metal on your lower back.  You closed your eyes with a groan,
"Shit..."  When you turned around, Morgan was giggling,
"Shit!"  You rolled your eyes,
"You're supposed to be playing doll house with Happy."
"Happy fell asleep.  And you're supposed to be doing homework." 
You sighed, you liked going to actual school, it was nice because with everything that's happened in the last five years, a Stark child in a physics class was nothing.  But you did not appreciate the schedule that it created.  You kneeled down, allowing Morgan to be taller,
"If you don't tell anyone, I'll get you that new dolly, alright?"  Morgan's eyes widened,
"But Mommy said I have too many dollies."
"That's why it'll be our secret.  Just like this, right?"  Morgan nodded,
"Right."  You stood up again,
"Alright."
You weren’t exactly sure how you’d get to wherever it was that everyone ran off to, but you didn't need to because the second you stepped out, a golden ring formed in the air, showing you where the heroes congregated.  You stepped through, no one noticing the last portal closing as they all looked ahead, waiting for a signal.  It promptly arrived in the form of Steve Rogers reaching his hand out,
"Avengers!"  Mjolnir flew to him and a small gasp left you lips. "Assemble!"
After taking down a considerable amount of aliens, you saw a familiar red and blue shine that you helped to design five years ago.  A large creature raised its weapon, about to bring it down on Peter, but you shot an energy beam straight into the back of its neck where there was no armor.  It's body went slack as it fell forward to Peter's feet.  He looked up at you from his place on the ground,
"Thanks."  You nodded, your movements a bit limited as you weren’t yet able to make a suit as intricate as your father — especially without him noticing,
"Anytime, Parker."
"Parker..." he repeated, mumbling to himself. His head jerked up, "Y/n/n?" But you had already flown away there was a whole world to be saved.
———
You had won.  It was over.  But it had taken too much, Nat and now your father.  You slipped your helmet off and tossed it to the side, letting yourself breathe better as it was getting suffocating with the sweat and would only get worse as tears appeared. 
"Dad?"  You ran forward and kneeled down next to Pepper.  You reached for Tony's hand and held it in yours as his eyes closed, breathing slowed, and arc reactor went dim.  "D—dad?" 
Your vision became blurry as you let your head rest on the cold armor on his chest.  Pepper lightly pulled you back, caressing your face,
"You aren't supposed to be here."
"He wasn't supposed to be here.  He was done, he retired."  Pepper nodded,
"I know, darling."
———
You kept a straight face as you looked ahead, watching as a wreath carrying an arc reactor at it's center floated off in a lake. As people dispersed, Morgan tugged at your hand,
"Is Daddy gone?" You pressed your lips together before bending down and scooping Morgan up in your arms. You brought her to the garage, which Tony had left a mess, full of scrap parts and unfinished projects. You placed her on top of a workbench,
"Yeah, sort of gone."
"How can he be sort of gone?" You sat down on a stool,
"Well, remember two months ago, when Mommy had to go on a business trip? And you were sad because you wouldn't see her for a week?" Morgan nodded. "Well, it's like that. He's gone, and we won't see him for awhile, but when the times right, we'll meet him again."
"Promise?"
"With all my heart."
"Y/n?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm hungry." You softly chuckled and helped Morgan hop down from the table,
"Go find Happy, I'm sure he'll take you to get cheeseburgers."
"You're not coming?"
"No, I think I'll stay her for a bit."
Morgan nodded then ran out the garage door. You ran your fingers through her hair, letting tears fall again as you tried to keep your sobs down and breathing steady. You picked up the nearest item — a wrench — and threw it out he open garage door, not caring where it went. Peter ducked, letting it fly over his shoulder,
"Woah." You wiped tears onto your sleeve,
"Sorry, guess that wasn't very mature." He picked the abused tool up and set it down on a nearby table,
"I thought you were pretty mature." You weakly laughed,
"Yeah, that means so much coming from the boy that still plays with Lego sets."
"That was like five years ago." There was a beat of silence before you spoke,
"What was it like?  Death?  Did it hurt?"  Peter sat down next to you,
"I don't know what happened afterwards, but it only hurt emotionally."  You scoffed,
"Thanks, that made me feel better."
"But, that's because I wasn't ready.  He was.  Like you said, when the times right."  You nodded,
"Thanks, Parker."
———
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parkersharthook · 3 years
Text
We’ve Only Just Begun
Peter Parker x reader
Warnings: bad words, crack fluff
2.5k+ words
Reference TikToks: kiss my best friend challenge & rich best friend check
series masterlist
~.~
“Peter I’m bored.”
“Hi bored, I’m Peter.” Peter looked to you with a small smirk
“I know, I did just address you. Also, never say that joke to me every again if you wanna keep dating.”
“ooh, harsh crowd.” Peter laughed.
“babyyyy I’m bored. It’s summer vacation, I should not be this bored.”
“y/n, you’re distracting my intern.” Your dad snipped quickly, elbows deep into some kind of machinery. You weren’t really sure what they were working, having gotten very uninterested once they started. “He’s helping me right now; do you want me to lose an arm?”
You rolled your eyes and spun around in the chair, “dad you always take him.”
“hey, you get him every day during the school year. Summer is my time.”
Peter looked between the father and daughter with a brow raised, “are you two seriously fighting over me right now?”
“well I wouldn’t have to fight over my boyfriend with my dad if Harley was here right now. That selfish idiot left and now you’re the only wonder boy to entertain my dad.”
Tony scoffed and held out his hand, wordlessly asking Peter for some tool. Peter handed it over immediately before turning his head back, “where did Harley go?”
“I don’t know, he just said he was leaving and walked out.”
“maybe he’s got a hot date.”
You huffed and slouched in the seat, narrowing your eyes at Peter. “makes one of us.”
Tony laughed and twisted slightly to give you a wink, “sorry honey but that was the deal. I let your boyfriend stay here if he helps me out.”
You rolled your eyes so hard Peter was concerned you’d see your brain, “oh puh-lease, you wanted Peter here just as much as I did. Either for Spidey stuff or normal nerd stuff, you’re just using this as an excuse.”
“fine but at least I’m not complaining about him sneaking into your room every night.” Peter sputtered, his face going instantly red and almost dropping whatever mechanic was in his hand.
“oh Mr. stark, i- we don’t- it’s not-“
“relax kid, if I was going to crucify you I’d have already done it.” Tony spun to face you, “now can you please go bother someone else. If you really want to spend time with Peter you’ll let us finish this.”
You huffed and left the lab as Peter blew you a quick kiss causing you flip him off jokingly. This is not what you wanted when you wished for your boyfriend to get along with your dad.
--
It had been a few hours and you were still bored. You had promptly gone to your room after leaving the lab and gone on tiktok, you’re absolute favorite way to waste time but now you were bored again. And you missed Peter, especially after a stupid trend kept popping up on your fyp of people kissing their “best friends” making you realize you weren’t kissing your very kissable boyfriend right now.
As if he could read your thoughts, Peter waltzed into your bedroom and immediately shucked his shirt off to wipe his face and hands.
“well hello to you too stud.” You said, biting your lip and very obviously ogling his toned body.
Peter laughed as he threw his oil stained shirt into the hamper and went to grab another from the dresser. You pouted, “why are you putting a new one on? You look fine without it.”
“because it’s the middle of the day and anyone could come looking for us and I am not about to be killed by any of the avengers because I’m corrupting their ‘little princess’”. Peter said as he put the new shirt on and flopped next to you, his chin now resting on his hand as he looked up at you.
“ugh they need to get over themselves and realize that we’re adults who’ve been dating for three years and basically already live together.”
Peter shrugged, his empty hand rubbing against your bare leg casually. “you’re always going to be the little girl they watched grow up.” He laughed at your pout and squeezed your thigh, “what have you been up to? Cured your boredom?”
“No.” you huffed, “just been scrolling on tiktok. Kinda want to start making them, could be fun.”
“what would you make?”
You shrugged, immediately struck with a great idea. “I don’t know whatever the trends on. I’m gonna put the tv on, don’t move.”
You shimmied out of bed, setting your phone up as discreetly as possible and turning on your tv. You started the video and moved back to the bed. You knew the trend was to kiss a best friend but you thought it would still be fun with Peter, plus you are best friends… you’re just also already dating. So not cheating, just a loophole.
Peter was still on his stomach, hand supporting his face, as he scrolled aimlessly through Instagram. And with you sitting against your headboard, it looked friendly enough. You waited for the right time before sliding down so you were laying next to him, practically under him. He looked up at you and smiled and for a second you were worried that he was gonna go ahead and kiss you but luckily he waited just long enough where you could initiate it in time with the song. You surged forward, hand immediately coming to weave into his curls to pull him closer.
Peter was obviously not expecting you to kiss him so aggressively so he fell slightly before catching himself on one arm that was now positioned next to your head, the other going to hold your hip. Now you really were under him.
You got lost in kissing him for a few moments when you realized the video was probably done and detached your lips. You giggled as Peter chased your lips, eyes still mostly closed. You slid out from beneath him and walked over to your phone.
“wha- where are you going?” Peter pouted, running his hands through his messy curls. You bit your thumb nail slightly as you rewatched the video, it was cute. “did you take a video of that?”
You nodded and showed him, watching a goofy smile stretch onto his face as he looked up at you, “so when you said you were gonna start filming TikToks you meant immediately.”
You shrugged and sat next to him, “no but the opportunity presented itself.”
You quickly captioned the video ‘sooo I kissed my bsf’ and tagged Peter’s account before posting it and throwing your phone to the side.
Peter kissed your bare shoulder, “is this gonna become a regular thing?”
You giggled and shrugged, “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Peter groaned, grabbing you around the middle and falling back onto the bed, pulling you down with him.
--
It was a few days later when you opened tiktok again, surprised to see your video had racked up 600 thousand likes and over 5 million views. You were surprised to see that it had gone semi-viral and yet no one recognized you. Not that you had your legal name in your username and you definitely weren’t as famous as your dad and family, but you weren’t hidden away either. Honestly though, this was kinda nice to just be another twenty-one year old on tiktok, posting stupid videos for fun.
You went to the comments immediately to see what people were saying and laughed at some of the funnier ones. You noticed that even MJ had commented.
Usera: aw so cute *blocked*
Userb: ms girl… he’s been waiting for this
Userc: no way best friends kiss like that
everythingbagel: “bsf” yeah fucking right y/n
⇲ begginstrips: hehe love you mj
You went back to your fyp and scrolled through a bit before you ran into stassie baby’s video of her showing off Kylie’s car collection with the audio saying, ‘rich best friend check’. You quickly sent the video to Peter, who was currently at lunch with Harry and Ned.
y/n: wanna do this when you get back?
Peter: lol sure seems funny
it was a few more hours before Peter got back to the compound, him easily finding you curled into the couch watching How To Train Your Dragons. You smiled as he dropped a kiss to your forehead, “this movie again?”
“it’s one of the best movies ever made,” you sassed back, “so yes, this movie again.”
He leaned down over the back of the couch smiling into your face before giving you another quick succession of kisses. “wanna film that tiktok?”
You checked the time before nodded, languidly stretching your body and standing up. “where should we start it?”
And that’s how Wanda found you and Peter at 3 am, videoing rando fancy stuff around the compound, you strutting and swaying your hips dramatically. Wanda followed Peter around, who was filming, laughing at your antics and giving you tips on what to include. The three of you got so loud, that Tony eventually woke up to investigate what the three of you were up to… as it was usually not great.
“are you sure we can film this? I don’t reveal any state secrets.” Peter whispered not so well.
“what state secrets are we revealing?” you whirled around to see your father, one brow raised and a hip cocked to the side.
“good entrance, very dramatic dad.” You said with a laugh, “and there aren’t any state secrets being revealed.”
“what are you filming?”
“A tiktok.”
Tony rolled his eyes, “I’m not even gonna pretend to know what that is. Anyways go to bed, you guys are being loud.”
“yeah, yeah. We’re just finishing up.” You watched your dad walked away before turning back to Peter and Wanda, “let’s go film in front of one of his suits.”
--
Peter had posted the photo to his account and captioned it: “@begginstrips is my sugar momma ;)” before promptly throwing his phone to the floor and passing out next to you in bed.
It was 10 in the morning – which was far too early as you and Peter had only fallen asleep at 4 am – when MJ started calling you and didn’t stop until you literally rolled out of bed onto the floor to pick up.
“what the fuck m? it is too fucking early.”
“you’re all over the news.”
You paled, “what?” Everything you ever did wrong very quickly flashed through your eyes, your mind scrambling to remember what was caught on camera.
“yeah your tiktok went viral. People are freaking out.” You sagged in relief.
“Jesus mj you can’t just say that shit for it to be tiktok.” A pause, “wait which tiktok?”
“the one Peter posted of his ‘rich best friend’ and you walking around the compound.”
You let out a quick laugh, “oh ok. That’s not that bad.”
“also can we talk about this whole best friend schtick you and Peter have going on tiktok? What the fuck?”
You chuckled slightly before crawling back into bed, your heart now beating at a normal pace. “the first one was just a trend so I lied to follow it and then it was just the sound. Also he is my best friend, he’s just also my boyfriend.”
MJ scoffed, “rude. I’m your best friend.”
“right, right. Sorry.” Peter grumbled slightly as he buried his head into your hip. You gently carded your fingers through his curls, “do you know why it’s all over the news?”
“apparently people didn’t know you existed? I don’t know, just thought that you might want a warning in case your dad got angry.”
“well I appreciate it, regardless of the fact that you basically gave me a heart attack and woke me up at butt fuck.”
“it’s 10 am, get over yourself and have a cup of coffee. Anyways, lunch tomorrow?”
You yawned, “sure sounds good. Wanna invite betty?”
“she’s still in Hawaii with her family, they’re coming back this weekend.”
“right, ok. Let me know what time you wanna go.”
“will do. Love you bitch.”
You smiled into the phone and yawned again, “love you bitch.” You hung up and tossed your phone to the floor, rubbing your eyes harshly.
Peter barely opened his eyes as he looked up at you, “what was that about?”
“apparently we’re famous.” You replied as you reached over his body to grab his phone.
Peter snuggled deeper into your body, wrapping his arms around your leg and laying his head in your lap. You rested against the headboard, one hand still playing with his curls and one now scrolling to Peter’s tiktok.
You blanched as you saw the video had gotten over 6 million likes and 45 million views overnight. And according to the comments, people were very confused.
User1: ummm is that the avengers compound or am I tripping?
User2: so we’re all just finding out tony stark has a child rn?
User3: mmmm something don’t add up here?
You sighed as turned the phone off, rubbing your eyes again. A headache was quickly setting in. You leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Peter’s cheek before slowly working your way out of his grasp.
He whined, “baby where are you going? It’s early.”
“I have to go talk to my dad about this but you keep sleeping babe.”
He rolled over to face you as you walked towards your closet. “are you sure? I can come with you.”
“no, it’s ok baby. I really don’t think it’ll be a big deal.”
--
It was slightly a bigger deal than you realized. Pepper was now talking you through ‘making sure SI had a good image on social media’ while your dad smirked in a corner.
Pepper stroked your arm, “this isn’t bad press or anything. You’ll just have to be careful going into the future. And you know that with being a Stark, you’re gonna have a lot of eyes on you and probably a lot of criticism.” She sighed, “we’ve done a good job shielding you from the press for this long but it might be a lot.”
You smiled at her softly. Pepper really had always been like a mom to you and now that her and your dad were officially married, it was even more true. “Yeah I know. I’m honestly not too worried.” You turned to your dad, “did you know people didn’t know I existed?”
Tony shrugged, “Doesn’t surprise me. I have almost every record of you sealed from the public for your safety and you never were one for the spotlight.” He walked over and dropped a kiss onto your forehead, “never show my suits on your clock app again.”
You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him, “for someone who owns a company based on new and cutting edge technology, you sure are out of touch.”
He gasped, a hand pressed to his heart. “how dare you, my own daughter.”
Pepper laughed softly, “she’s not wrong. Anyways, post whatever you want to your personal account. You’re an adult, so we trust you just be careful. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
You kissed her cheek before standing and stretching out your back. “don’t worry, I already have a plan for my next video.”
“god help us.” Tony muttered.
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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years
Text
It's Good | Clintasha
Well-- it's 1:15 and this isn't what I expected to write and post today but it's what happened and I'm not mad at it. It's a deviation from my usual style and I think that's good. I love them and this made my heart happy so I might do more when I need a break. Please enjoy this change of schedule my lovelies!
Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff
Word Count: 1.9k
Tags: Fluff, slight angst
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Clint’s fingers weave through her messy red curls, not tugging hard enough to hurt her, only enough to untangle the soft strands. Perhaps, if it were a year ago and the first time she’d stumbled back into the compound— face muddy with streaks of dirt and dried crimson, hair a wild mane and fingers too shaky to do it herself— he would have tugged too hard and earned a shocked yelp. It wouldn’t be his fault— being gentle isn’t really how he operates. At least it wasn’t until it had to be. Now he knows better—
“One or two, Natty?”
It’s taking the redhead a few beats longer than usual to answer, her head slumped towards her chest, and he sighs, quiet enough that he can be sure she doesn’t hear it. He’s not mad at her— or even annoyed— braiding Natasha Romanoff’s hair is one of the few moments of peace he gets to enjoy in his usually chaotic life. One of the few moments he wants. He just wishes it wasn’t here— he wishes it wasn’t so fleeting.
Can you braid hair for the rest of your life and not get tired of it?
He’d like to try.
Just— maybe in a nice house with a dog. Nothing too extravagant— he’ll leave that to Tony— but something cozy. Homey. That’s all he wants— a home. He glances down at the girl in front of him, eyes drawing over the slope of her neck, counting all the little scars— still only seven; that’s good. Maybe he doesn’t want a home— maybe he just wants a home for his home.
“Natty.” He tries again, fingers pushing against her warm scalp, coaxing her tiny body further against his.
She still doesn’t answer and he instantly understands why, her back rising and falling with even inhales and exhales, breaths so much steadier than normal. She’s asleep. Still, he sweeps the fluffy mane as lightly as possible from her cheek, head peeking around to glimpse at her closed eyes— yep, asleep; that’s good. She doesn’t sleep nearly as much as she should. He would never call her out on it. He would call her on other things— and he has, many times— for not eating enough, not relaxing enough, not thinking of her own well being enough— but he would never call her out for not sleeping. He knows better.
He understands.
He has them too— the very same nightmares that have her screaming so loud in her sleep that he’s out of his bed and at her door before his own eyes are even fully open.
It’s why he continues on his mission, his movements somehow even gentler than before.
Grabbing the comb from beside him— a wide tooth thing he picked up once this became a regular happening in order to keep his shitty brush from destroying her curls— Clint rather skillfully parts her hair down the middle, using a band to gather the left half into a loose knot. He learned quickly that if he leaves the halves down at the same time the strands will gravitate back towards each other and re-tangle. It’s like magic how easily her hair becomes untameable. He supposes that’s just her though— wild. Wild but not so free.
He sets the comb back down, running his fingers through her curls one last time before setting to work. Taking three tiny sections from close to her forehead he, almost mechanically, begins to plait the hair on the right half of her head. He always starts on the right. He’s not superstitious but he figures he does it for a reason so who is he to stop doing it now. Testing fate isn’t Clint’s main objective in life— not when he has something to lose.
The movements are locked in his muscles, hands moving from sheer memory. The right strand goes under the middle strand. The left strand goes under the middle strand. Repeat. It’s simple— so simple he wonders why it took him so long to pick it up in the first place. Right strand under, left strand under, repeat. Pick up more hair as you go. Simple. Maybe he just wanted to feel her hands on his for as long as possible— to hear her giggles as she taught him, much too tired for his liking but still mesmerizing. Pick up more hair. Right strand under. Pick up more hair. Left strand under. Natasha is always so damn mesmerizing— even when she’s stumbling through his door, hair still wet from her shower and so worn out that she doesn’t even knock.
He likes it better like that anyway; when she chooses him to help her.
She doesn’t ask for help enough.
He knew that before he started braiding her hair. It simply became more obvious after. He shouldn’t have been so surprised— this is the same girl he saved all those years ago. The same girl he was sent to kill and instead came back with, body tossed over his shoulder, out cold, gun still in his hand and pointed at Nick Fury, daring him to take the next step. The same girl he fought for because something inside him snapped when he had that very same gun aimed at her head and she had begged him to pull the trigger. That was the only time he’s ever seen Nat beg and god if it didn’t spark something almost as wild as her curls inside his chest. He should have known then how hard it would be to get her to ask for help.
Clint sighs again, tying the plait off with another band. He runs his fingers over his work— not half bad. Nat can do it better— of course she can. It's her hair. She can but she chooses not to. So he doesn’t care— not about the little bump halfway down the braid or the way a few strands poke out near the bottom where his movements started to get choppy. None of that matters, only the fact that she’s here, in his arms, finally safe. Even if only for a few hours. His chest squeezes and he forces himself to move his fingers from the completed braid.
God what he wouldn’t do for a secluded house and a golden retriever and a farm.
He starts on the second braid. Under, under, more hair, repeat. He doesn’t know how to farm but it really can’t be that difficult. It would be more for fun than anything. To pass the time. To sit in the sun with this breathtaking woman and not have to think for five minutes. He can’t say that he can picture it— he’s not a liar. Not intentionally, at least. He can’t picture it but he wants to. A dog and a porch and some lemonade. And her. Simple.
It’s so simple and for once something so simple hadn’t taken him ages to learn. He knew right away. It wasn’t like braiding— he didn’t knot his wants the way he knotted her hair for months, fingers stiff and harsh. No, it was simple. How he feels is simple. Love should be simple and with her it is. Loving her isn’t like braiding hair— he didn’t have to learn how to love Natasha he just knew and he did it. He still does it. Like the braiding, it’s now muscle memory. It’s a part of him. It won’t go away.
That’s good.
Sometimes he has to remind himself what in his life is good because, honestly, there aren’t that many things. Most of them— all of them— include the redhead sleeping in his arms. Drinking coffee with her before the sun rises is good. The smell of her cocoa butter lotion on his sheets is good. The softness of her hair, the little black dress she wore to Tony’s party three months ago, the way she stands so close to him at briefings that her shoulder brushes his. Good, good, good. The way his chest feels when she rolls her eyes at his jokes but then the corners of her lips pull up, almost like she’s trying to stop herself from smiling but can’t.
Amazing.
Wonderful.
Life— her smile is life.
She is the embodiment of life— she’s his life.
His entire damn life.
That’s good.
As Clint finishes tying the second braid Natasha stirs against his chest, legs stretching out in front of her and knocking into his which are sprawled on either side of her. Her arms are next, reaching high above her head before falling, landing a little awkwardly against his face. Chuckling, he captures her fingers, smoothing them properly against his cheeks. They’re cold and he’s expecting it, used to the chill of her skin by now and more than happy to share his warmth. She scratches through the stubble on his jaw for a moment, yawning into the dim space of his room.
“What time is it?” She murmurs, rolling her head onto his shoulder.
Her voice is a tad squeaky, laced with the same sleep he can now see clouding her blue eyes and he laughs again, massaging her hands. He has to force himself to not get lost in her stare— a job easier said than done.
“I think eleven— not really sure though.”
She raises a brow, nose scrunching, and he can hear her words before they’re even out of her mouth. They drive a knife through his chest before they’re even out of her mouth.
“Shit ‘m sorry— didn’t mean to pass out.”
If braiding her hair is muscle memory for him then apologizing when she shouldn’t is muscle memory for her. Maybe it would hurt less if she didn’t mean it. But she does— she always means it— and he wishes he could erase the lines around her mouth as it tugs into a frown. He doesn’t have an eraser though.
He only has his arms.
So he does his best to curl them around her shoulders, pressing his face deeper into her wandering fingers. They creep over his jaw and under his eyes, tracing the ridge of his nose and the slight bump that she gave him. He grins at that— she’s a fighter. That’s good. That’s why they’re such good partners— not that she would admit it. She’s too damn hard on herself. Like him tugging on her hair; she’s always too rough.
“How many times do I gotta’ tell you that it’s okay, Natty?” He mumbles, guiding his nose along her fingertips. “You don’t gotta’ apologize.”
She only smiles— I know.
That’s good.
She yawns again, dropping her hands from his face and instead curling them around his arms, her blue eyes fluttering tellingly. It’s what she does when she’s tired but doesn’t want to say anything. Like she’s afraid to tell him that she wants to sleep. Like she’s afraid to sleep at all or she’s afraid he’s going to tell her no. As if he could ever tell her no. There are a lot of things he wants to tell her— ask her. No isn’t one of those things. There are too many other things to let something so silly come between saying them.
Can we paint the walls of our house blue? Can we name our dog Lucky? Will you mar—
Time for bed— he’s losing his mind.
Still, he asks— she always has the deciding choice with him. “You ready to sleep?”
It’s not the first question he would have chosen if he could ask her anything but for now it works— for now it’s good.
Just like her answer— her answer is good too.
It’s a nod and a hum and a “Can you carry me, Clin?”
Yeah, it’s good.
And he knows better than to say no to good.
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hold-our-destiny · 3 years
Text
5 times tony comforted Peter and the one time Peter comforted Tony
This is for @bluesweatshirt for the friendly neighborhood exchange!
(also i’m really sorry i couldn’t add in a cut off on mobile)
________________
1.
Peter wasn't a sad person.
He wasn't too sad when his parents didn't come home from their business trip. Yeah, he was sad when Ben died- he died in front of him for god’s sake- but he didn’t show it, he sucked it up and helped May with the new struggles with money.
Peter wasn't sad, no. He was tired though.
God, he was so tired.
It had been two weeks since homecoming night and Peter was catering between not being able to sleep at all and waking up every night from nightmares.
This night was different, though.
Because for some reason… Mr Stark was in his nightmare.
It was never anyone but peter. Always Peter stuck under rubble, falling from a plane, stuck in the fire. Never anyone else so why now would it be Mr Stark?
That wasn’t exactly the first thought on his mind when he woke up.
___________
Peter woke up with a start, breath stuck in his chest, tears already escaping his eyes.
He threw the covers off him, needing to be free from the confines, before reaching for his phone.
He’s hurt, mr stark’s hurt and he can't help him- oh god he can't save him-
“Hello?” Mr Stark’s groggy voice shook him out of his thoughts.
“Mr Stark?” Peter asked, almost scared for any reply.
“Pete? You okay?” His mentor’s voice took on a new tone. Worry mixed with… something.
“Yeah, sorry, i just- I’m sorry for waking you- I’ll hang up now-”
“Peter. Are you okay?” The question made him want to cry, made him want to curl up and let it all out with how safe it made Peter feel.
“Yeah I’m-” he took a breath, “I’m fine,”
He could tell the billionaire knew he wasn’t, “Okay, well you might as well help me anyway,”
“Help you?”
“Yeah, i've been up for hours trying to figure this problem out,” He lied.
“O-okay”
The mechanic explained the problem to him, Peter letting the words wash over him, breathing through the explanation. He pretended not to notice when Mr Stark didn't ask for his thoughts, when he reminded him to breathe every now and then, just letting his words soothe the kid from the evident panic attack he’d just gone through.
God, he was so out of his element.
Maybe this was a good thing- maybe it was good for him to comfort this kid- this kid who he barely knew. Just for tonight, only tonight.
2. 
Tony was tired. No, scratch that- he was fucking exhausted.
He was pretty much ready to drop on that wednesday, ready to curl up in his king size bed and sleep for 16 hours straight.
And yeah, maybe he forgot it was lab day.
Peter walked- more like stumbled- through the lab doors, somehow racing and also shuffling to his seat, dropping his bag with a thud and sitting in his chair in almost the same manner.
Peter’s hair was messy, curls more unruly than usual, and Tony would bet that if he could see the kid’s eyes, they wouldn’t look healthy. 
“Hey kid,”
No answer.
“You okay?”
A delay, then a slight nod. Peter still hadn’t put anything in front of him, just simply sitting at the desk.
“You wanna skip lab day today?” 
Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide and concerned. And yeah, Tony was right, he had dark bags under his eyes.
“What? Is something wrong? Do you need me to leave?” Tony raised a hand to stop him.
“No- no- I mean more like…” He didn��t know how he was going to say this, “I’m pretty tired right now, do you wanna just order a pizza and chill out on the couch?”
Peter looked at him suspiciously, before nodding, already getting up and heading to the other room.
Yeah, tony thought to himself, you’re doing okay
.
______--
Peter was passed out on the couch within 5 minutes, remote laying in his limp hand and head lolled to the side awkwardly.
Tony brought the pizza in, setting the boxes down on the coffee table and gently shook Peter awake.
“Hey, kid,” He whispered as Peter woke up, matching the tone to the dark room, “You wanna have something to eat? Or at least get into more of a comfortable position,”
Peter nodded groggily, sitting up so Tony could sit next to him, legs touching as Peter moved closer. Tony raised his arm up and around the back of the couch, resting on the teenager’s shoulders and allowing him to relax into the billionaire.
Tony put a random star wars film on the tv, letting it drift into background noise as the kid fell asleep next to him.
For years, Tony had been scared of fucking a future kid up, becoming his father and eventually pushing everyone away. Somehow, now, his fears have receded, his mind reassuring him repeatedly.
He trusts you. You’re doing okay.
3.
Peter woke up under rubble.
No, no, this wasn’t a nightmare. The air was too thick, dust invading his airways. He choked on it as he took a breath. It was too dark, way too dark, the rocks were crushing him, piercing his skin in multiple places. He groaned with the weight, reaching for his watch instinctively. 
He pressed the side button three times, letting red light illuminate his surroundings and trying to breathe with the rubble pushing down on his chest.
His watch lit up blue, and Tony’s voice started speaking through it. 
“Peter? Pete- you there?”
“Y-yeah I’m here” He choked out, a waver in his voice.
“Okay, how are you feeling, kid?” 
“I- The rubble- it’s crushing me- i can’t-” His breath started to speed up at the reminder, panic invading his senses.
“Kid- kid! You gotta calm down, okay? We’re getting you out now, i promise- we’re gunna get you out real soon- but you gotta calm down for us to do that, okay?”
Peter made an affirmative noise, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breaths. His memories were resurfacing much quicker than he could cope with and Tony’s voice was only helping slightly. Peter didn’t know what he was saying, letting the noises meld together in his mind as he calmed himself.
After a few minutes- or hours, he didn’t know- he’d calmed down somewhat, finally able to focus on the voice coming out of his watch. 
“We’re getting you out of there now, kid. You’re doing so good for me, Pete- just keep breathing for me, okay?”
With the panic receding now, Peter was much more aware of his surroundings. He was also aware of the fact that his brain was slowing down, unable to process things as quickly as he normally could. There was a reason for that in the back of his mind but he couldn’t reach it. 
There was something wet underneath him, soaking up into his clothes, he didn’t like that. He wanted to move away from it but only made it hurt worse when he tried- he cried out in pain.
“T-tony!” 
There was a scuffle on the other end of the line- “Yeah, pete? You okay?- what’s happening?”
“T’ny- t- tony! T’y please- g’t me out- please- please- i- i can’t-” 
“Peter- what’s happening?”
“H’rts- my- my chest- there’s- it’s-” The panic was back now, confusing him even more than before, “S’mthing- und’r- something wet- under me- t’ny please-”
“Shit- Peter- Pete- breathe, okay kid? Breathe for me. We’re gunna help you,”
Peter took a breath, then another, and another, steadying his heart before whimpering when the rubble shifted, “Kid, we’ve almost got you. I need you to stay awake, okay? We’re gonna get to you soon but you gotta stay awake so you can tell us if we move the wrong thing, okay?”
Peter made an affirmative noise again, wanting nothing more than to move away from the pain, but listening to Tony.
Tony talked again a while later, surprising Peter when he did. 
“Pete? You still awake for me, bud?”
“Y-yeah im- im here,” 
He heard Tony breathe out slowly, “That’s good, Pete. We’re only a few feet away from you, but the next thing we’re going to move is gunna shift some stuff, okay? Tell us if it hurts you, okay, kid?”
“Okay- I’ll tell y’u”
He waited a few seconds, hearing some movement to his side, before the rubble shifted and his legs screamed in pain. He only let out a grunt, not wanting to stop the team’s efforts, and only a moment passed before he saw his father figure knelt down beside his head, cradling it with one hand. He smiled up at him.
“T-tony-” He sobbed.
Tony nodded, “Yeah, yeah, kid, i’m here now. Sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner but I got you now, i promise. You did so good for me, bud,”
“Good?” Peter’s eyes were closing now, relishing in the relief of pain after hours of panic.
“So good, kid. I’m so proud of you for staying calm. You can sleep now, okay? Let us do the rest.”
He smiled up at his mentor again, letting his eyes close and his body relaxed as his mind gave in to the not-so-distant pull of sleep.
4. 
Tony woke up that morning to a call from midtown tech.
Of course, he was confused as to why Peter’s school would call him at midday on a random tuesday.
“Is this Tony Stark?” The caller sounded dubious- doubtful.
“Yes, it is,”
“This is Julia calling from midtown tech. Are you the emergency contact for Peter Parker?”
“One of them, yes,”
“Would you be able to pick Peter up soon?” Tony was already getting some more presentable clothes on, worried as hell.
“Yes, of course. Can I ask why?”
“To be completely honest with you, Mr Stark, I don't even know. There’s a police officer in there with him right now, and that’s all i know.”
Tony froze. A police officer could only mean two things, and Tony didn’t like either option.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” And with that, he hung up.
Peter practically fell into his arms when he walked into the office. Tony instinctively went to cradle the back of his head as he processed everything that was happening. One of those things being that Peter was crying.
Peter was crying.
He wrapped his arms around the teenager more firmly as the police officer stepped toward them.
“Mr Stark, I’m officer Langford,” Tony nodded curtly towards him, waiting for an explanation.
“You may want to sit down for this,” 
It took some time for Tony to maneuver Peter into a more comfortable position on the couch in the corner, the kid not wanting his mentor to see his face- in fear?- but they got there in the end.
The officer sat down in a chair opposite them, “I’m sorry to tell you this but this morning May Parker was involved in a car accident, she was rushed to the hospital but unfortunately, she was pronounced dead on arrival-” Peter held him slightly tighter, “We called you here because you were Peter’s second emergency contact, and in situations like these, we need a temporary home for him. If you agree, you can take him home now, and if not we can move him to a separate-” Tony held a hand up to cut him off.
He moved the hand back down to rub across Peter’s back, meant to be a soothing gesture but somehow made him more tense. 
“I’ll take him now, and i can sort out the paperwork for a… longer arrangement soon,” Officer Langford nodded before wishing them well and leaving, but Tony didn’t pay any notice, his mind too caught up in what just happened.
It wasn’t caught up in May’s death, somehow in the back of his mind, he knew, he knew that police officers didn’t just show up at a kid’s school for no reason. He wouldn’t have been called if it was anything else.
No, it wasn’t caught up with that.
It was caught up with the fact that Peter- his kid, his Peter- upon hearing Tony’s agreement to take him in- he lost all tension in his body. As if he was relieved, as if he feared Tony would leave him, as if he would abandon the kid he’s grown so close to lately.
Tony couldn’t process it.
“Hey, kiddo, can you look at me please?” Peter minutely shook his head, burrowing into Tony’s shirt even closer than before. His tears had long since stopped, now just seeking comfort from the billionaire.
“We’ve gotta be clear about some stuff, okay, bud? Just a few minutes and then we can go back to whatever this is,” Tony wasn’t good at this.
But, still, Peter pulled back from their embrace, head turned down towards his legs. 
“Kid-” Tony was stuck for words, “i want you to know that you can stay with me for as long as you like, okay? If it’s just for this week, for a while or if it’s for the rest of your life, okay? I need you to understand that i’m going to stick with you through all of it, anything you need from me, I’ll get it for you,” He took a breath, “You’re not alone in this,”
Peter crumpled.
As if against his own command, his body surged forward, arms clumsily reaching for his father figure, breaths coming through as gasps, head still downturned. 
But still, Tony caught him.
__________
Tony took Peter back to the tower, he set him up in his room, gave him food and sent him to bed. He figured they’d deal with talking about it tomorrow, after some good sleep and a long fucking think about how Tony feels about this kid.
That went to shit at around 4am.
Tony was up on his feet before he could process the scream, legs rushing him to the only inhabited room on his floor. Pushing the door open and hoping for the worst.
He really didn’t expect to see Peter in the corner, bed sheets crumpled around his feet, breaths barely present.
He kneeled down a few feet away, unsure about whether Peter needed him close or not. But upon seeing the kid reach out a trembling hand towards him, he surged forward, pulling the teenager into his arms.
“It’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay, we’re safe. I’ve got you.” He repeated in hushed whispers, rocking the two of them back and forth.
It was only a few minutes later when Peter responded to him, breathing normally now, hand clutching his mentor’s shirt as he mumbled into his chest.
“Couldn’t- couldn’t save y’u- i- i can’- can’t do i’- pl’se t’ny-”
Tony hushed him. 
Peter repeated the mantra for another- god, tony didn’t know how long- until tony was finally able to hush him. The billionaire carefully picked him up, walking him the few feet over to the bed and laying him down in it. 
Tony hesitated by the door, before hushing his brain of all negative thoughts, turning off the light and retreating back into the teenager’s bedroom. He climbed into the bed with the kid, curling up next to him- relieved when Peter immediately turned to cling to his chest.
Slowly, he fell asleep.
5.
To say Peter was worried about this mission was an understatement. Him and Tony were going undercover together and honestly… it was already awkward. 
The thing is, Peter wouldn’t have any trouble going undercover normally but now, they were going in as father and son. 
There was this guy- this villain they’d started calling the ‘poisoner’- who was targeting father and son couples, poisoning the son and leaving the father with the body until they were found. They’d tried everything to arrest the guy but… he kept getting away- going undercover was the only option- the last ditch attempt before the avengers started knocking on doors.
It was weird how Peter was more scared to act like Toy was his dad, when he could actually die if the other guy got the upper hand.
_______________
They were sat in the hotel room, waiting. 
They saw the guy- the poisoner- earlier at the bar. He’d followed them all night, back to their room but… he hadn’t pushed his way in, always staying just too far away to be apprehended by Tony.
It took a few hours for there to be a knock at the door, Tony standing up and casting a quick look at Peter before going to answer it.
He opened the door to see him- the guy- the poisoner- dressed up as a waiter or something, pushing a cart in front of him.
“Can i help you?”
He smiled, “Room service, sir,” He started pushing his way past Tony.
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t order room service,”
The poisoner turned around quickly as he heard the door blow shut, quickly pulling Tony into a headlock and facing Peter, who was frozen in the shock of it all.
“Now I’m going to say this one time only,” He ignored Tony struggling in his hold, pulling out a gun from his waistband, “There’s handcuffs under the cart. You’re going to cuff yourself to the bed or I’ll blow your dad’s brains out,” 
Peter moved slowly, sliding off the bed and keeping his hands visible. The man was the same height as Tony and didn’t look much bigger than him. Tony should be able to get out of his hold easily- there was a reason he couldn’t- and now he had a gun to his head.
He reached under the tablecloth, feeling the cold metal and pulling out three sets of handcuffs. He moved over to the bed again, cursing the hotel for having actual bed posts, and cuffed his left wrist to the bed, laying down on it to make himself more comfortable. 
The man then pushed Tony away from him, pointing the gun at Peter this time and making fear rush through him, “Now you- cuff his other hand to the bed,” 
Tony hesitated, making the man cock the gun, and Tony then quickly moved towards Peter, efficiently cuffing the teenager’s wrist, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance that didn’t do much to reassure him.
“Pull the chair away from the desk,” The poisoner commanded, “And cuff your hands behind it,”
Tony did so immediately, not risking Peter’s safety again. Only once he was situated did he start talking.
“You know you’re going to regret this,” The poisoner laughed.
“You really think so, do you? I know you’ve got this room bugged, i know the avengers are probably on their way here. But I’m here to send a message,”
“And what message is that?” 
He paused, pulling the lid off the metal plate he brought in on the cart, it revealed a neat line of six vials, all full of a blue liquid.
“You need to pay for what you did,”
__________
As it turns out, the poisoner doesn't actually inject the poison.
No, that would be too merciful.
Tony’s handcuffed to the chair he’s sat in, facing the bed. The same bed of which Peter, his kid, the teenager who he’d grown to care for so much in the past year or two, was handcuffed to in an ironic parallel. Father and son. Mentor and mentee. Tony, the merchant of death, destined to lead anyone he comes into contact with to a gruesome fate.
Peter happened to be that person.
Tony remembered the first few days after the fight with the rogues, how he regretted taking Peter with him, knowing he was going to ruin the kid. The few months after had only solidified that claim, and so he’d taken the suit.
There was no way he was getting out of the situation now.
The poisoner- that son of a bitch tony was going to kill as soon as he could get out of this damn chair-
The poisoner, had strapped a mask to the teenager’s head, slowly screwing in a vial of that fucking liquid on either side.
And now he was breathing it in- the gas- the poison that Tony just sat there as he’d been strapped down.
Now, Tony thought it was bad enough when he’d had all those thoughts running through his head, memories of Peter before they’d gotten to know each other, before Tony had taken him in. He thought that had been bad enough.
But no, it was so much worse when all those thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt.
Because Peter had just turned his head, linking eyes with Tony, a desperate plea moving between them.
Because Peter was scared- he looked terrified. 
There were unshed tears laying in his tear ducts, enough to easily see as you looked at the kid. His lips barely visible within the mask but from what Tony could see, they were held in a strained frown, lips being bitten.
Peter moved his head towards his mentor, linking eyes with the man. And that, right there in that moment, was when the teenager let go.
“T-tony-” A sob cut him off, choked out between his lips.
“T-tony please- i can’t- i don’t-” Tony shushed him from where he was sitting.
“Kid- Pete- I-” Tony was speechless, all known reassurances dying in his throat as soon as he’d thought of them, what were you supposed to say to a kid who was dying and you couldn’t do anything about it?
“Tony- please- dad- i can’t-” that kicked his instincts into gear.
“Kid, you need to stop talking, okay? The team’s going to get here soon, they’ll get this shit out of you and you’ll be okay, then you can tell me whatever you need to when you’re better, okay?”
Peter nodded, eyes still wide with tears but he listened to the billionaire. and somehow, that made it so much worse, the kid would follow him into fire if he asked him to, and now Tony got him into this situation.
Tony wanted nothing more than to look away from what was happening, as Peter breathed in the poison, helpless to do anything, but he couldn’t not be there for the kid. He needed his father figures comfort.
“he’s right, the teams gunna get here soon, i don’t know when but we’ll get you out of this as soon as we can, and then we can spend a week watching all of the star wars movies, and the clone wars if you want, anything you want kid” 
The poisoner was sat in the corner of the room, on the other bed. He was watching them, watching Tony desperately give his kid comfort without being able to touch him. 
Tony looked at him, “you’re a fucking psychopath, you know that, right? he’s 16, he’s just a kid. why don’t you kill me instead if you want me to pay so much, huh?”
The poisoner chuckled, standing up to walk over to them, “If you die, you wouldn’t feel the pain i did as my kid died in front of me, i’m going to make you watch as your kid suffocates in front of you”
He got two new vials, replacing the almost empty ones. Peter’s wheezing had gotten a lot more prominent now, trying desperately to bring in air. 
Tony’s always been around death, it greets him at every corner. but every time, someone else dies instead of him, or at least, they come close to it. 
He doesn’t know what he’d do if Peter dies.
______________
He’d already changed to the last set of vials now, Peter's breath was barely there. 
Tony was fucking terrified, obviously.
The team was close, he was sure of it, but that had been what he’d been telling himself the whole time. 
They were barely minutes out by his assumptions, but he didn’t know if Peter had minutes, vials nearly empty as the liquid in them turned to gas for the teenager to breathe in, slowly suffocating him.
He was still facing Tony, eve after this long, still trusting him to save him. Even as his body could barely pull in breaths, eyes drooping, they didnt stray from his face.
“Peter, you gotta keep your eyes open, i know it’s hard, i know- but you’ve gotta stay awake for just a few more minutes. We’re gunna help you, but you just gotta stay awake,” 
Peter looked at him sadly, but his eyes stayed open and Tony counted that as a win. He started to say something but Tony shushed him quickly.
“It’s okay, kid. Don’t try to talk. We’ve been over this already, you can talk to me after the team gets here- star wars marathon and everything, remember?”
Peter’s eyebrows creased inwards, and Tony’s heart dropped. Either he just forgot about that whole part of their conversation or… or… 
“You just gotta stay awake for me, okay? I believe in you kid, dont let me down,”
_______________
The door seemed to explode inwards when the team got there, Tony didn’t look up.
He didn’t look up as they arrested the poisoner, Bruce and sam moving to Peter, while two others moved to get Tony out of the seat he was in.
As soon as the handcuffs were undone, he surged forward, one hand reaching for the kid’s- which now rested on the bed after being released- and the other going to rest in his curls. Tony quickly wiped the tears off the kid’s face, staying away from his mouth as the others tried to give him as much oxygen as he needed.
Peter choked on a sob when he realised Tony was there, mouth slightly upturning even as another oxygen mask was placed over his face.
“I’m here kid. I’m so proud of you for staying awake, okay?” He looked to bruce, as the man looked away from Peter’s vitals, nodding to Tony now, “You can go to sleep now, I’m so proud of you kid, it’s okay,”
Peter’s eyes didn’t leave him, even as he fell asleep.
Tony cried as he was carried away.
__________________
Peter woke up in the medbay. That was his first sign that something bad happened.
The next sign was his mentor-father-figure-dad asleep on the side of his bed. 
Peter’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks lining his cheeks. Tony never cried, not even when he dropped an engine on his foot that one time. If Tony was crying now, this- whatever it was that happened- it was bad bad.
“Tony?” 
Tony startled awake, as if he meant to be on guard, and took one look at the kid in front of him before reaching for Peter and bringing him into his arms.
“Oh my fucking god, kid. Holy shit, you’re okay. Oh my god-”
“Tony what happened?” Was the teenager’s muffled answer, not complaining about being smothered in his da- Tony’s shirt.
“There was this- this guy we went after- had to go undercover and he got to us and he poisoned you, kid- and i couldn't- i couldn't do anything about it- i just sat there and you- you did so good-”
Peter shushed him as the memories arose in his mind, “Tony, can i talk for a second?” He received a nod in reply, “You called the team, Tony. I didn’t, you did. They got there in time and now I’m okay, aren’t I? You did everything that you could, if anything i should've done something, I’m the one with powers here. No- i know- i couldn’t have done anything but you were there the whole time telling me to stay awake and i did, Tony, because of you.”
Tony didn’t say anything, seemingly processing what the kid said. He looked up slowly, tears falling down his cheeks, leaning forward and pulling the kid into a hug again.
Slowly, Peter got tired, nearly falling asleep in Tony’s arms. So, of course, Tony moved into the bed with him, pulling the kid to rest his head against the man’s chest.
“I got you, kid, don’t worry. You can go to sleep,” Peter didn’t know if Tony was reassuring himself or the kid.
Stil, nonetheless, Peter seemingly couldn’t hold back from murmuring a last thought as he fell asleep.
“Love you, dad”
Tony froze for a moment before replying, “Yeah, i love you too, kid,”
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heli0s-writes · 4 years
Text
Saga*
Summary: Bucky is in a mood.
A/N: HELLO. Here is the much-awaited bunny saga. How did I get here. Why did you guys do this to me? Thanks everyone who cursed me with this, especially @softbiker​ who put the bath-time idea into my head and had me dry-heaving about it. 🧡
Warnings: Smut! 18+ DomBucky. Rough sex. Mild comeplay. Anal fingering. Over-stimulation. Crying. Possible Dubcon. Please I don’t know. 2.5k words.
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It’s nine-thirty and hazy when you get home. Another day spent poring over paperwork and e-mail chains, tracing lines of command to seek the right department head to question and scrutinize. Senators and budgets. Bureaucracy and posturing. Your affixed scowl and bared teeth when you berate men making wrong decisions for half the free world.
Most of the time, your job is fulfilling and fits you perfectly. However, it’s been an entire week of fuck-ups to resolve and you’re overwrought. Sleep-deprived. Pissed-off. Permanently on edge. Thank God the house is quiet, at least.
You break the silence almost guiltily, calling his name. Nearly seventeen hours you’ve been gone—and it’s been like this too long. Now it’s Friday and you texted him near lunchtime you’d have to be in tomorrow, too.
Radio silence ever since. Naturally, you’re anxious.
Down the hallway, Bucky’s voice echoes. “I’m in the bath, sweetheart.”  
Instantaneous relief.
-
The door swings open and buttery vanilla greets you first. Then notes of garden rose cuts through the cream. Moisture hangs heavy in the air. Thick. Warm. You marvel at the view.
He’s leaned back, shoulders and chest exposed above the swirling bubbles, hair tied up with a smile on his pretty lips. His reflective left arm rests on the smooth edge of the porcelain, motioning you forward with shimmering candlelit fingers. Silver bowing to an orange-golden glow.
“Been waiting for you.”
Droplets roll down his neck, gather in the space between his collarbones. It’s heavenly. You slip in the tub and heave a sigh. Oh, he’s good. Always so good at taking the day from you. Always known what you needed.
Since the first time he caught you grilling Tony at the compound, flicking off Steve on your way out in half-jest half-sincerity because their levelling an entire block meant a mess-ton of work on your end and a headache into next year, he’d known. He asked you out, then, as an apology. Something about the mission being his fault. Lemme get you a coffee, please. And you had snapped up yours, Barnes, but met him the next day anyway. Twenty minutes turned into two hours and by the time you were leaving for home, he was coming along with you. One broken bedframe later and you were gone for him.
Exactly what you needed.
“Buck...” You rest your head on his shoulder now, grateful. “Mm... Sorry I haven’t been home much.”
“I know you are.” It’s a mysterious reply, but you’re too worn to raise questions.
Bucky’s breath fans over your shoulder, hotter than the water on your skin. A kiss to your throat. His torso rubs against your back. His legs and arms shift, rearranging himself around you purposefully and it feels like you’re being eased into a trap.
A groan when you discover his game. Exasperated and on edge, reflexive with attitude because you’ve spent all week telling men what to do, you put on that voice you reserve for work: sharp. Commanding. “I have to be up early; I need to sleep.”
Petulance is his reply. Equally decisive. Even sharper.
“I don’t care.”
Under the flickering glow, Bucky sucks the inside of his cheek between his teeth, peers up from behind darkening eyes, and you feel your entire soul tremble.
“Go lie down.” His timbre is steady, indifferent, as if he’s got the entire situation in the center of his palm. He rumbles from deep in his chest, and the trap is revealed. Turning gears and metal mechanisms clatter. Bucky’s finger on the trigger. “Be good, bunny.”
Fuck. You bite down a wince. That pet name. He only uses it when he’s feeling a certain way— dominating, maybe even vengeful. Tired of missing his girl and chasing her shadow. His pupils are blown wide and hounding your every move. Voracious and predatory and you feel very much like his prey now. Defiance flees. You’re barely audible.
“Bucky—“
His tongue flicks over a canine and your stomach leaps into your throat.
“Don’t make me say it again.”
The cage door crashes down. Locks itself shut with you ensnared.
-
Harried thoughts about how to escape his wrath swim through your mind on the bed. You love him. Jesus Christ, do you love him, but you have to get more than three hours tonight. Your eyes are still shut when you feel big hands slide under your calves, behind your knees, lifting you up and right onto his face.
Leisurely licks despite his urgency. Up. Down. The pad of his tongue wet and loving, slicking you up with kisses and spit. His tender affection tucked within impetuous craving. A bruising grip to your hipbones, settling your body, ignoring your pleas when you attempt them.
“Haven’t gotten to touch you in days. You know what that does to me?” Another long, soft suck as you quiver. You can hear his mouth. Smell your own scent threading through the rose and vanilla atmosphere. Sweet and tangy. Alive and keening. Undeniably eager for him. Your pulse feels attached to every effort of his fingertips.
“Gonna have you all night---” Low timbre, curling deep. “—till you’re falling apart for me—” You try to catch your breath. “—shaking the goddamn bed—oh--”
At the first clench of your orgasm, Bucky smiles against your clit, flicking sharp lines as you jerk the tender bud away.
“Stay still.”
His left hand wraps itself around the base of your throat, pressing enough to keep you compliant. The plates shifts and clicks. You break out in a shudder at the sound of it whirring. His other fingers begin their real work, heel of his palm hitting your throbbing clit with every manic shove. Squelching. Smacking. Your desperate whimpers. And then a final loud yelp and you go slack for the second time.
On the comedown, your bones melting into the mattress, you attempt to swat him away, but he’s faster— of course he is— and in a flash he flips you. A crack of his palm and agony shoots up your side like fire.
“I said, stay still.”
You yelp when he does it again, squirming helplessly because he’s barely touching it now— the swollen skin on your ass blistering. He’s dancing on the edges, teasing, lifting— and then—
Another one. You’re stuck in his grasp. Your vision blurs. He leans forward to kiss newly formed tears at the edge of your eye into his devilish mouth. Your spine is electric like a live wire.
Tracing your inflamed wound with his finger-- light touches around the edge of the hurt-- he dips past your flushed cheek with a grin. His tongue is hot when he licks the salt between your teeth. That teardrop he pulled from you, traded from his mouth to yours.
“Cryin’ so pretty, baby.” Bucky praises against your trembling chin, tasting another droplet collecting along your jaw, “You’ll be good now, won’t you?” A weak nod. Captured game spellbound by all his power.
“Get up there with your fucking face in the pillow.”
Metal grasps the back of your neck, tangling your hair, pressing your cheek into the cushion. A slow nudge, he parts your entrance, giving just a tiny bit of him, making you squirm and clench already around his cockhead. Beneath his grip, you pant, nodding, inhaling lungfuls of fresh detergent on the sheets, steeling yourself.
Another mindful lean. He’s so thick. You shimmy desperately, throbbing for more. “Needy fucking girl.” A scrape of his teeth to your shoulder. “Jesus, you got me all slicked up and wet.”
He sinks in-- all the way—easily and so, so deep you swear the air’s been punched clean out of your body. Bucky holds you beneath him, dick pushing deeper and deeper and god how is he doing this.
“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby—” A grunt. “--maybe too hard, huh?” His breath chases a shudder down your back. “I’ve been wound up—can’t help myself anymore.”
You struggle, shake your head, feel yourself choking up another sob, toes curling until they feel stuck.
“Come on it,” he commands, “Squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Make it filthy with your pussy.”
“Ngh— Buck, you’re gonna—“
A wilted cry tears itself free, smothering itself out on the pillow beneath. You’re still reeling when he picks up his pace, hands gripping your ass, spreading you to admire the sight of him welded inside. You’re trembling-- twitching, overstimulated and overwhelmed—sniffling quietly. You’re shivery and hot, raw and exposed.
He drives in again.
“You ain’t going back to work tomorrow. You’re gonna stay right here— all— fucking—day.” You punctuate his syllables with gagged moans—lilt high like you’re injured, fisting the blankets, tears catching in the pillow.
“Sweet girl,” Bucky croons, wolfish, “Does it feel good?”
He sticks his fingers back in your mouth, thumb under your tongue where spit has collected and drags out a line of it. “Look at you… drooling everywhere, bunny. You’re so fucking messy for my cock.”
Bucky drags his hand down your back, takes his time traveling over the swell of your ass, into the dipping line and prods gently against your tight hole. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Yeah?” A wiggle of his hips, “Tell me you want it.”
Your brain is—not quite working. A little crinkle of static here, a little drone of magnetic humming there, realizing how embarrassed you feel. Submissive and helpless, sloppy and displayed, but you have enough bearing to nod. Get a quiet agreeance out. “Y-yes.”
And it’s enough for him. A lazy kiss to your shoulder, stilling his cock, spreading what’s smeared around your pussy and his base up to your hole, driving in slow and deliberate. The little sense you have flees entirely. You want it so bad, lost to him.
Grinding, grinding, grinding. Deeper and deeper. Dragging all the way out and then back in.
“Too much? Hm? You’re gonna take it, though, aren’t you? Yeah--” He’s harder now. Stiffens up with his own goading, you tensing beneath him, sheen of sweat on your brow and back. “Fuck, I love your pussy. Love your ass. Gonna fill you up at least twice.”
Sometimes the pros of being with an enhanced super soldier is the sex. Sometimes the cons of being with an enhanced super soldier is the sex, too. Twice is a walk in the goddamn park for Bucky. It’s a promise and a threat.
One finger becomes two, hooking slightly, rubbing the back of his knuckle down, feeling the stroke of his cock through your swollen layer of muscle.
“Oh,” you whine, “Bucky—ah—ah.”
It hurts like the way a long morning jog does— aching muscles, worn and overworked, thrumming voltage and adrenaline— and you’re high on it. Clumsy grunts and gasps, blabbering compliance, head spinning. Your vision bursts white. Or black. Or stars—whatever. You’re finished, that’s for sure. Gone for him. Like always.
But not Bucky. Hell, he keeps going, crams another finger inside of you, other arm underneath your belly now, elbow crooked, thighs splayed around your hips, shoving himself in so fucking furiously it rattles the entire room.
The realization dawns that you’re not coming back down. It feels like you’re being torn apart. Skinned and stinging and the most incredible sensation in the whole damn world with him wrapping your entire being around his desire as he fucks into you. You feel claimed. You feel owned. You feel infinite.
“Jesus, baby.” He grunts, “Jesus—fuck—yeah. Fucking good-- all mine.”
Near inarticulate and filthy. He gets this way when he’s close-- tongue-tied as much as Bucky can be, because he’s always got the kind of clever vocabulary that makes your entire body burn without ever having to touch you. So now, when he’s stuffing you full and saying those kinds of things, you don’t stand a chance.
Bucky grips your hair and peels your throat exposed, sucking a mark on the pulse point, and comes so hard he knocks you both into the headboard with the back of his hand cushioning the blow.
His cock is covered when he pulls out, still half-hard and stroking himself, using it like lube. You push your palms over your face, move your knees together but he wedges them apart so wide they smart.
His ruddy cheeks glow beneath the searing blue ring of his eyes, a microscopic corona encircling the darkness of enormous pupils. He holds you frozen with a single look-- ravenous. At least twice floats into your head. Oh, god.
It doesn’t take long the second time, like he’s propelled straight through his first and pitched right into the next. He buries his face into your neck, jerks to a halt with heavy pant, hair splayed over your collar. The sound of it, the smell of it, the feel. His cock, painfully hard. His come, shoved deeper. Your insides, bruised tender and sore, throbbing, stinging, still fluttering for more. Pleasure blurs into pain and back again.
He pinches your nipples hard. Squeezes your jaw, your cheeks. Fucks your mouth with his hand and smears your spit down your sternum.
“What’re you doing tomorrow?” He leans into a thrust, “Tell me.”
Bucky sits you up into his lap, wraps his limbs around you lovingly. The world is hazy and incoherent. You let him do as he pleases, making only choked-up sounds and half-attempted replies.
“Yeah.” Quiet crooning, shushing in your ear, soothing your frantic heart, “I got you. I got you, baby. I got one more for you, alright? And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you? You’re gonna learn your lesson.”
You sob his name with each thrust, chew on your lip distraughtly. You can’t. It’s too fucking much. Stop, you think, please. More, you think, please. Every time you feel thrown off one edge, he takes you to the next one, even higher. He fucks you raw and open and loose and when he finally comes for the last time, you dig half-moons into his arms, curl into the shape of a wounded animal and tremble in pleasure.
-
He cleans himself up. Cleans you too. Soft caresses on the parts of you he marked up, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, imprinted with the creases from the pillowcase. Bucky lays you down slowly, brushes the damp hair from your jaw, settles in next to you with sweet kisses and mindful aftercare.
God, he’s good. Always known what you’ve needed even before you realize it for yourself. Your man.
Wrapping you up his arms when you need warmth. Giving you space when you’re feeling restless. Loving you slow when you’re withdrawn. Loving you hard when you’re aching.
And oh, you ache.
Your body sinks into the sheets. Every synapse shutting down, feeling a rest so deep every cell hums.
“What’re you gonna do tomorrow, bunny?” Gentle prodding, just a little sharp. Hypothetical, of course because he already knows your answer. Already knows you belong to him for the rest of the weekend.
Bucky tugs up the comforter around your shoulders, slotting himself behind your body, enfolding both of you safely. Your lids flutter shut. All the stars in the sky pitch themselves out. The night closes black and endless, eats your mind until you’re lost to sleep.
He pulls you tight to him. Possessive. Caged in. One final scrape of his teeth over the back of your neck like a warning before he muffles a satisfied moan into your hair.
You’re trapped. You’re caught. It’s heaven.
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Text
Out Of Time ~ 107
MASTERLIST
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< previous chapter
Word Count: 4,300ish
Summary: The team figures out the monolith and tries to save Simmons
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“Do something!”
“Fitz,” Y/N got up and hurried to him. She was afraid to portal, scared of what the monolith might do. “Come on.” She grabbed his arm but he tore it away. “We have to get out of here!”
“Leave me alone!” 
He turned and decked Y/N in the face, causing her to tumble down the steps and to the ground. Y/N gently touched her face, pulling her hand back to see blood.
“Fitz! Y/N!” Mack shouted, rushing to grab Fitz from the container.
“Fitz, get out of there!” Hunter yelled, getting the door.
“Are you crazy?”
“Close it!” Bobbi yelled. “Close it!”
“Y/N!” Daisy rushed over. “Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”
As soon as Bobbi and Hunter closed the container, the monolith turned into liquid. Everyone was panting.
“Damn it, Fitz,” Coulson murmured, coming into the room.
“I had to know,” Fitz panted. “Had to— had to know—“
“I already lost Simmons to that thing. I cannot afford to lose you or Y/N, too.”
“Trying to get yourself killed?” Hunter wondered.
“Sorry,” Fitz said. “I won’t give up. I can’t give up.”
“None of us want to, Fitz, but…” Daisy tried to say.
“Fitz,” Bobbi knelt down in front of him, “you tried. Okay? You tried your hardest. Everybody knows that.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I missed something. I m… I missed something.” He wiped something off his face.
“What is that?”
“Proof.” Fitz got up and ran to the lab.
“Y/N,” Coulson said, the others turning to face her. She was still on the ground, breathing heavily. “Oh my…” There was a long cut down the right side of Y/N’s face. “Did he—“
“I’ll be fine…” She panted. “I’ll be fine…”
“Come on,” Daisy urged, helping Y/N up. “Let’s get that stitched up.”
Daisy took Y/N to Coulson’s office and Bobbi brought all the supplies to help patch up the cut.
“He didn’t mean to,” Bobbi said quietly.
“I know,” Y/N responded.
“He just misses Simmons so much.”
“I know.”
“It hurts—“
“I know, Bobbi! Just stop, okay?” Tears formed in Y/N’s eyes. “Out of everyone here, I think I understand the most… I lost Bucky… no one could find his body… I was torn. I acted out too. That’s how I’m here… So I understand. I get that now we know Bucky’s alive, but we didn’t then. And I didn’t think he would ever come back… Honestly, at least he has hope. That’s more than I ever had.”
~~~
Fitz showed up in the office not too long later. He had a tablet in hand and pulled up his findings.
“Sand,” he stated. “Not just sand. Impossible sand.”
“The monolith’s case is a clean room,” Mack said. “There’s nothing in there but that rock. Not even dust.”
“Unless you blast it open with a shotgun and contaminate everything,” Hunter retorted.
“That’s not what this is,” Bobbi shook her head.
“Okay, the sand itself, not unusual,” Fitz continued. “Mostly silicone-dioxide particles just like on Earth.”
“Wait, are you saying…” Y/N paused. “You’re saying this sand is not from Earth?”
“Carbon dating show that—“
“It predates the Earth by a billion years,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi.
“So you think the rock is a portal?” Daisy asked.
“No. No, I’m proving that it’s a portal. Okay, to another planet, a-a very old planet. A crack in space-time that carried Simmons away… and carried the sand back. Which means…”
“She’s out there,” Coulson stated. “But it’s been months.”
“Yeah?”
“She could be long gone from wherever this thing dropped her.”
“Yeah.”
“She could be dead.”
“Yes.”
“But we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.” / “You’re damn right.” / “For sure.” / “Yeah.”
“Okay, Fitz, what do you need?” Y/N asked. “I can get Tony to bring some things as well.”
“Uh, uh, well, uh, more historical data. People have studied this thing for centuries. I need an expert on quantum mechanics and Einstein-Rosen Bridge theory. And a— a sandwich would be nice.”
“I might have an idea,” Coulson said, nodding, “about the other things.” He turned to Daisy and Mack. “You two, stay with our new inhuman guest. Be here for Dr. Garner’s assessment. Building that team is still the priority.”
“What did I say?” Daisy commented, her and Mack exiting.
“Bobbi—“
“I’m on this with Fitz,” Bobbi responded.
“Yeah, haven’t you been on this with Fitz the whole time? Hiding his trip to Morocco, covering for him on a constant basis?”
“Have I?” She smirked, walking out.
“And you know where you’re going,” Coulson said to Hunter. Hunter nodded and left.
“What about me?” Y/N asked. “I’m staying until Simmons is found. I’ve already texted Tony and he’s on stand-by if we need anything.”
“With me.”
~~~
Coulson explained that they were going to make a visit to a Professor Randolph. He was an Asgardian, hiding out on Earth. The team had a run in with him once when Y/N was on a break. Bobbi and Fitz joined them.
“I’m sorry,” Randolph said, reading a book inside of his cell. “I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Coulson questioned.
“Potato, puh-tah-toe.”
“And your reason?”
“The nightly news, cities flying into the atmosphere, government task forces, and now the public is freaking out about alien outbreaks. Pretty crappy time to be on Earth if you’re not a local, so I am staying low. And of course,” he chuckled, “there is my current situation.”
“Destruction of property, public drunkenness,” Bobbi clarified.
“And here I thought that Asgardians could hold their drinks?” Y/N retorted.
“Yes, well, Asgardians can generally hold their drink. It’s just, well, one night I tried to hold all the drinks.”
“Asgardians are also strong, right?” Bobbi questioned. “You could easily break out.”
“What? And miss dinner?” He chuckled. “Oh, no. Yes, norse prisons are surprisingly evolved—decent food, comfy bed, extensive library, and no attention being drawn to me. Come back in a few months, why don’t you? Maybe then I’ll be in the mood.”
“Can’t I just call in Thor?” Y/N muttered to Bobbi.
“We don’t have a few months,” Fitz stated.
“And neither do you,” Coulson said. “I don’t have to remind you that I saved your life. Though I did just mention it in case you forgot. But I’d still have no problems contacting those task forces you mentioned. I bet they’d go bonkers to have a real life Asgardian to dissect in their labs. I don’t know how comfy you’d be there.”
“Why, Agent Coulson…” Randolph said, standing up. “Are you threatening me?”
“I wouldn’t call it a… well, yeah, I guess I am. That’s absolutely a threat.”
“You’re different now. You know that?”
“One must accommodate the times or things get messy.”
“What’s with the hand?”
“Things got messy.”
“Well… you’ll have to cover my realize. And if there is a portal, which I will have to see to believe, you are diving into very dangerous waters here.”
“We live in the dangerous waters,” Y/N commented. “And have been for a while.”
Randolph exhaled sharply. “Alright. Well, it’s not like you’re giving me any choice.” 
He quickly tore off the door and the alarm started blaring. He grabbed his coat and they began walking out. Guards rushed in.
“He did it,” Randolph said, pointed at Coulson.
Coulson gave a nervous chuckle and a smile.
~~~
After talking themselves out of it, they took Randolph to the base. He walked around, observing the monolith.
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it looks like your regular, old—“ He stopped when the monolith turned to liquid then back into a rock. “Oh. How often does it do that?”
“It’s random,” Fitz answered.
“No. No, no, no, no. It may seem random. But… something is clearly triggering it.”
“I’ve checked it against tides, relation to the sun, rotation—“
“On this planet. So you have no idea how to control it. Why come to me? I’m no interstellar-travel expert. I’ve never even studied gravitational lensing or zero-point energy fields or quantum-harmonic oscillation theory.”
“Yet you know all those words you just said,” Bobbi retorted.
“And you’re scared of portals,” Coulson added. “You’re scared of being dragged back home through a portal. Y/N?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Y/N replied with a smirk. 
She walked up to Randolph, opening a portal behind him and pushed him into it. Another portal opened on the other side of the room, causing him to exit from it.
“Impossible,” Randolph panted. “No human should be—“
“I’m connected with the Tesseract,” Y/N interrupted. “I can channel it. And I know it’s on Asgard and I’m pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could send you back there.”
“What I think, Randolph, is that in your drunken stumble through history, you’ve probably investigated every story involving a portal,” Coulson said. 
“And I’ve seen you eyeing all of your exits,” Bobbi added. “My knee brace, wondering if you can get away with it. The only reason you came with us was to confirm its existence.”
“And destroy it,” Randolph confirmed.
“You’ll have to go through me,” Fitz stated.
“And I could. Literally. But, then, I don’t know what amazon woman and robot hand are capable of these days. And don’t get me started with the Avenger over there. So I will help you get her back. I’m not entirely heartless. But if I do, I want your word that we will demolish this portal and no one passes through it again.”
“I’ll sleep better at night,” Coulson confirmed.
“Good. Well, I’ve investigated a lot of these wormhole rumors. But that’s all they were, rumors. None have panned out. So we know nothing of its origin.”
“Kree, maybe.”
“And this parchment was found with it,” Bobbi said, grabbing the paper and handing it to Randolph.
“Well, hello,” Randolph said, studying the parchment through the bag it was in. “I’ve seen this.”
“It’s a common Hebrew word.”
“Yes. What else do we know, Mr. Fitz?”
“Uh, well, the monolith changed hands a lot,” Fitz explained. “Germanic tribes, spent the hundred years’ war in France. But before the Napoleon era, it was moved again. I lost track of it somewhere in—“
“England.”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
“Because I have seen this word carved into the walls of a castle in Gloucestershire, England, in 1853. To the plane!” Then Randolph started for the door, when no one followed he turned around. “W—am I allowed to say that?”
“Let’s all go to the plane, I guess,” Coulson agreed.
~~~
While on the flight over to England, Y/N was talking to Tony.
“Are you sure you guys don’t need my help?” Tony asked. “I could get there at the same time as you still.”
“I’m sure, Tony,” Y/N replied. “The lead we’re currently following seems solid.” Y/N sighed. “I just want to bring Simmons home so that I can come home.”
“You’ll find her. I know you will.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
From the doorway, Fitz cleared his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention to him. He looked guilty.
“I need to go, Tones,” Y/N said. “I love you.” She hung up, slipping her phone in her pocket. “You need something, Fitz?”
“Yeah, I, uh…” Fitz started, coming to sit beside Y/N. “I need to apologize… I shouldn’t have hit you back like I did. You were only trying to help… I’m so sorry.”
“I know, Fitz.” She rested a hand on his knee. “I completely understand… I was the same way when Bucky died. Or, I guess, when I thought he was dead… So I get it, Fitz. I think that’s why Coulson called me in.”
“Or cause he missed you. You and May left, he lost his hand and Simmons… I think he just wanted a little of the good old days back.”
“Sadly, after we find Simmons, I can’t stay… I need some more time. I’m doing much better than I was. But I don’t think I can ever go back to this life full time. I don’t think it’s in the cards anymore.”
~~~
Randolph led them into the castle. They looked around with their flashlights, searching for the carving.
“Yes. Yes, yes,” the Asgardian exclaimed. “I came here for a costume ball. That was the pretext, of course, ‘cause I had heard rumors of travel to the stars. Found it all to be nonsense. But it was a fun party.”
“The carvings?” Coulson questioned, trying to get back to the point.
“Oh, right, right. Of course. So I was here admiring the stone work, and…” 
Randolph turned and shined his flashlight on the stones over the door. There was the word, carved in to one of the stones.
“The same as the scroll,” Fitz stated. “Death.”
“Maveth,” Randolph clarified. “Yeah, one of its translations is actually ‘death by punishment’.”
“Could mean no trespassing,” Coulson suggested.
“A Hebrew warning carved in an English castle struck me as odd. Out of place. Seems ancient.”
“But you stopped looking into it?” Y/N asked.
“A man dressed as an owl, of all things. I got him drunk enough to admit that no travel to other worlds was even occurring. Just ritualistic killings.” Everyone continued to look around as Randolph talked. “En, the whole thing stunk of half-baked satanism. Just some fabrications to entice new members. And, well, there were fire dancers. I got distracted.”
“Here’s another one,” Coulson called. “This is why I got rid of all the SHIELD logos on our vehicles. It’s like screaming for attention.”
“About time,” Y/N muttered.
“You know, there’s an ginormous eagle symbol on top of our jet,” Bobbi pointed out.
“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “Sometime I can’t help myself with the cool.”
Coulson then pushed a stone in the wall, causing part of it to open up. Revealing a passage way.
“You certain about this?” Randolph asked. “It does say death by punishment.”
Fitz and Y/N went in, examining the walls. They made their way down the passage. Eventually it led to a round room, with old equipment in it.
“Okay, well, this wasn’t on the last tour,” Randolph said. “It’s an odd shoe for architecture this period. Definitely built after I was here.”
“Reminds me of the bunker under the Louvre,” Bobbi commented.
“What? There’s no bunker under the Louvre. That’s a joke, right? You messing with me.” Bobbi simply glanced his way and walked to the other side of the room and Y/N chuckled. “Alright, great. Now I’ll have to check.”
Fitz knocked on the metal he was studying. “It’s late 1800s,” he stated. 
He pushed the lever up. Suddenly, electricity crackled and the room lit up.
“Still got some life to it,” Coulson commented.
“I hear water,” Bobbi added. “Could be a stream underground, maybe hydroelectric power.”
On the other side of the room, Fitz hit the control panel on the wall and Randolph pulled down another lever. Suddenly, a round floor panel, in the center of the room, disappeared. They all walked up to it, looking down.
“This looks a lot like it was made to hold—“
“The monolith,” Fitz interrupted Bobbi. “This machine was designed to control the portal, to open and close it at will.”
“Do you know that, or is that just what you hope it to be?” Coulson asked.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
Sighing, Coulson pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Mack, I need you to load something onto Zephyr One and bring it to us.”
“What exactly am I bringing, sir?” Mack against on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah… you’re not gonna like it.”
~~~
It wasn’t long before Mack and Daisy arrived with Zephyr One and the monolith was being lowered into the hole. Fitz and Randolph were getting the systems working. Bobbi was guiding the container down, monitoring the monolith on the tablet she was holding.
“Zephyr One,” Bobbi called into the comms, “you’re clear to retract.”
“Wow. Room full of ancient gack,” Mack commented as him and Daisy entered the room. “Kind of reminds me of your office, director.”
“Realistically, what are the odds of this thing working?” Daisy asked.
“If we were realistic, we never would have gotten this far,” Coulson said.
“With anything,” Y/N added.
“Well, Andrew Garner thinks I need to be more so,” Daisy said. “He recommended three months observation and counseling before reassessment for Joey. Says I’m reckless.”
“Wonder what he thinks about me.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Coulson said. “He probably just meant that—“
“He said you’re desperate,” Daisy added.
“What? He didn’t say that. Did he say that?”
“I can read minds, Phil,” Y/N said. “He definitely said that.”
“You can read minds, too?” Randolph pipped up. “Why is the Tesseract gifting you all these things?”
“Long story.”
“Let me guess,” Bobbi came up to them. “I’m struggling to come to terms with physical limitations and losing my sense of self instead of redefining it.”
“No,” Daisy said. “He didn’t mention you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, he did. That’s what he said.”
“Oh, good.”
“Yeah.”
“Mack,” Fitz called. “Mack, push that lever.” Mack turned to a lever. “No, the one— the one that’s— the one that’s down. The one— the one beside it. Push it.”
Mack did as directed while Fitz did the same thing on the other side of the room. The gears starting turning, the machine started working. The room began to tremble and the monolith turned to liquid.
“Fitz, it’s working!” Y/N exclaimed.
Fitz knelt down beside the whole, pointing a flashlight into it.
“It’s staying open,” he stated. “Light! I need more light!”
The trembling began to get to Daisy. Y/N watched with concern as she groaned and put her head in her hands. She went over.
“Daisy?” She quietly called. “Daisy, what’s happening?”
“We got a problem!” Mack shouted.
“I need some bloody light!” Fitz yelled.
“Fitz!” Coulson called, tossing him a flare gun. 
Fitz shot it through the monolith. Daisy held her head as she began panting.
“The gears have locked!” Mack yelled. “Bobbi!”
Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she saw blood coming out of Daisy’s nose.
“Daisy!” She exclaimed. Y/N caught her as she fainted, slowly lowering her down. 
“Skye?” Coulson called, coming up beside them. “Hey.” The trembling and machine stopped. “Skye, are you okay? Skye?”
“It’s Daisy,” Daisy replied softly.
“What?”
“It’s Daisy now,” Y/N responded.
“You’re really having a hard time with this, huh?” Bobbi wondered.
“Damn it,” Coulson muttered. “Yeah. Daisy, hey.” Daisy lifted her head up. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she replied. Y/N helped her sit up. “I’m better. That pulsing sound was killing me.”
“What pulsing sound?”
“Are you serious? It was deafening.”
“The vibrations,” Y/N whispered. 
“What?”
“The vibrations. You can sense them. And there was so many, that it was too much for you. It’s kind of like, how if you’re all thinking at once, especially about a similar think, I can sense it.”
“Maybe, Y/N’s on to something,” Bobbi agreed.
~~~
The team was currently trying to find a way to put the machine back together.
“It’ll just rattle apart again,” Fitz stated. “We have to reinforce the connections.”
“Reinf— look, most of the workings are under the ground,” Mack said. “We just can’t tear the castle down. And actually, we’re lucky the room is shaped this way, or the machine might have shaken it apart on top of us.” The two bent down to try and pick a piece of the machine up.
“Wait. Wait. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s the point. Quantum harmonic oscillation theory, like the professor said.”
“I know that look,” Bobbi commented.
“It’s a strange shape for this time period because it’s made to resonate, uh, to—to—to—uh— create a-a quantized field within the stone.”
“Fitz, you’re talking, but we’re not totally following,” Coulson said.
“The room is a speaker. The machine is an amplifier. Uh, a sub—subsonic frequency to resonate with the monolith.”
“You saying you figured out a way to fix the machine?” Mack asked.
“No. I’m saying I figured out that—“
“We don’t have to,” Daisy said, glancing at Y/N. “I can do it. I can open the portal myself.”
“Daisy, no,” Y/N said. “It’s too risky.”
“If I can open the portal and help save Simmons, then I’m doing it.”
~~~
The team added a frame with a lot of rope, to lower some into the portal and bring them back.
“Well, turns out we’re standing in the in the middle of the world’s largest subwoofer,” Randolph stated.
“Yeah,” Mack agreed.
“If the point of the machine was to resonate the room at a certain frequency,” Daisy said, “I can do that.”
“And you can replicate it?” Coulson asked.
“Kind of drilled into my brain.”
“And it could kill you,” Y/N stated, not at all happy with this plan.
“How long do you think you can hold it?” Coulson asked. 
“Maybe a minute,” Daisy responded.
“If it’s too much, you pull back. I can’t lose you, too.”
“I got this.”
“Here we go,” Bobbi said, reentering the room with a machine. “Camera and data sensors are hard-lined back to us through a cable. No signal loss that way.” She clipped it onto a cable to be lowered into the portal. “If Daisy can hold it, we’ll get a visual of the other side.”
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Coulson said before turning to Daisy. “Alright, you listen to me. You take care of yourself. We lose that probe, nobody cares.”
“Uh, I’m confused,” Randolph spoke up. “What exactly is she planning to do here?”
Allowing her space, everyone moved as Daisy readied herself. She held both arms out to the sides, causing the parts of the old machine to tremble.
“Sorry,” she strained an apology. “Still tuning.”
After getting the right tune, she aimed at the monolith. Causing it to turn into liquid. 
“Hold it open as long as you can,” Fitz stated.
Everyone turned to him. He had clipped himself onto the cable. He ran towards the liquid monolith.
“Fitz, no!” Coulson shouted.
But Fitz jumped into the monolith, disappearing.
“I’m going in after him!” Y/N yelled. 
“No!” Coulson held her back. “I can’t lose you anymore than I already have.”
“But I’m the best chance to get back if Daisy can’t hold it long enough.”
“You don’t know if you can do that.”
“And you don’t know if I can’t.” They stared at each other. “If Daisy looks like she’s ready to give out, I’m going in. And no one can stop me.”
The trembling and the cable rope moving was causing the structure that was keeping it steady to lose up. Mack, Bobbi, and Y/N all quickly grabbed onto a different piece, trying to keep it steady.
“Damn it. Pull him back,” Coulson ordered, rushing around to where the cable was. “Get him back here.” He pulled the lever and the cable began spin back up.
“I can’t hold it!” Daisy shouted.
“Y/N, don’t! We can’t lose the both of you!”
Before Y/N could jump, Daisy stopped the trembles and the monolith burst into pieces. Every looked down in the hole, hoping, praying, for something to give. Suddenly, Fitz uncovered himself and pulled Simmons up. Daisy fell to the ground, Mack and Y/N rushing to her.
“You did good, tremors,” Mack said. “You did good.”
~~~
Y/N brought everyone onto Zephyr One quickly. Simmons needed to be checked out immediately and Fitz needed to be monitored in case of radiation. They laid Simmons in the containment module, hooked up to IV’s and allowed time to rest. Randolph and Y/N were standing outside as Coulson came to update them.
“They’re gonna be okay,” he informed. “No sign of radiation or infection. Fitz would never have found her, but she saw the flare. We brought a woman back from the dead today.”
“Yes,” Randolph agreed. “And, happily, you kept up your end of the bargain. The portal is destroyed.”
“Thank Daisy for that.”
“Yeah. Agent Coulson… what exactly is Daisy?”
“The call themselves inhumans.”
He looked surprised. “I have not heard that word in a very long time.”
“You know it?” Y/N questioned.
“I know more about them than I do you. You are something else… The Tesseract you said, that’s how you get your abilities?”
“Part of them.”
“Interesting.”
~~~
They were landing at the base when Y/N pulled Coulson aside.
“You’re leaving,” he stated.
“I am,” she replied.
“Anything that I could do to convince you to stay?”
“No… Look, I’m sorry, Phil, that I left and May left. But sometimes you need to tap out. SHIELD can’t be everything in anyone’s life… Even yours.” Y/N pulled him in for a hug. “If you need anything like this again, I’ll be there.” She pushed herself away, walking back towards the portal she opened. “Just don’t go opening anymore portals to other planets any time soon. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Phil.”
~~~
“But she’s safe? There’s nothing wrong with her?” 
“Nothing,” Y/N shook her head. 
“Wow,” Tony leaned back. “That’s… that’s—“
“A miracle. An absolute miracle.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to join the team again?” Tony pulled Y/N in-between his legs. “You didn’t miss it at all?”
“I missed them. But not SHIELD. Plus,” she gave him a kiss, “I wouldn’t get to do that as much as I would like.”
Tony hummed. “Good. Can you do it again?”
next chapter >
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polaroid15 · 3 years
Text
Febuwhump day 11 - Hallucinations
Summary: “Pete,” Tony says again, resting a light hand on the kid’s shoulder, “wake up sleeping beauty. Time to eat.”
Again, Peter doesn’t move. Feeling a small twinge in his stomach, he strengthens his grip, giving the boy’s shoulder a small shake. The movement jostles Peter’s head off his arms where it rests against the table. Now, Tony can see his face.
And his stomach drops all the way down to his toes.
Or, Peter gets a bad fever, and Tony doesn’t realize until it’s almost too late. 
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/72129546
----
“Hey Pete, are you feeling Mexican or Chinese for dinner?”
There’s a long drawn silence and Tony swivels on his stool to investigate, abandoning his project on the table. It doesn’t take long to find the boy- he’s leaning against his workspace, head resting on folded arms. The kid’s own project sits untouched in front of him, still a mess of unconnected wires.
“Oh lordy,” Tony sighs, “are you seriously taking a nap right now?”
When Peter still doesn’t stir, Tony begrudgingly slips off his seat and onto the cool tile, his legs aching after hours of disuse. He crosses the space between them quickly, a smile tugging at his lips.
Kids.
“Pete,” he says again, resting a light hand on the kid’s shoulder, “wake up sleeping beauty. Time to eat.”
Again, Peter doesn’t move. Feeling a small twinge in his stomach, he strengthens his grip, giving his shoulder a small shake. The movement jostles Peter’s head off his arms where it rests against the table. Now, Tony can see his face.
And his stomach drops all the way down to his toes.
“Damn it!”
Trying to keep his breathing even, Tony places his palm against Peter’s red, clammy forehead and curses at the heat emanating from it. His lips are dry and chapped, his curls sticking in wet clumps on his forehead.
“Peter! Wake up right the hell now!”
Slowly, Peter does. His eyes open into slits, revealing delirious orbs of brown on the other side. They drift up to Tony in some delay as he sways on his chair.
“B-Ben?”
Tony stills, convinced his heart has ceased beating. He swallows past a sudden lump in his throat, hand falling away from Peter’s shoulder. “No- no, kiddo. It’s Tony.”
Peter whimpers, a vicious shiver upsetting his equilibrium. He falls, and Tony is just able to catch him before he hits the floor.
“FRI!” Tony yells, his heart in his throat. He repositions Peter so his head is in his lap, the heat radiating from it impossibly high. “FRI, call a medteam now!”
“Right away, boss.”
“Oh God,” Tony murmurs, hands shaking as he feels for Peter’s pulse. “How- how did this happen? Oh Christ.”
“Mmm. Ben-”
Tony bites back a sob, the world dissolving down to a pinprick.
“Miss y-you.”
The kid’s eyes roll around in his head, his breathing short and stilted. Tony grabs onto his hand and holds it tight, vowing to never let go. “I miss you too,” he whispers, choosing to indulge whatever the kid is seeing.
“Ben.”
“I know,” he says. “I know.”
The doors to the lab slide open, a med team rushing through with a stretcher. Still hanging onto his hand, Tony maneuvers with the team until Peter is lifted onto the stretcher, his head lolling towards Tony like a flower to the sun. One of the staff raises a thermometer to Peter’s ear as Tony wipes away a tear off Peter’s cheek.
“Damn,” the medic says, voice tight. “Temp is 104.9. We need to get him cooled off now!”
They start to run towards the elevator, and Peter cries out at the movement, his hand tightening in Tony’s.
“You’re okay,” Tony soothes. “You’re gonna be fine.”
The elevator dings and they step inside. Peter gives a full body flinch at the harsh fluorescent lights and digs his sweaty face into Tony’s arm. He moans, eyelids fluttering.
“Where- where am I?” he slurs.
“We’re at the tower.”
“Wha- what? Tower?”
Tony adds his second hand to their already clasped ones, rubbing his thumb over the back of Peter’s knuckles. “Don’t worry about it. You’re okay. We’re going to take care of you.”
Peter shudders. He turns his head to look up at Tony with drooped, delirious eyes. Something passes through them, like he’s seeing a ghost. And maybe, Tony thinks, he is.
“Dad?” he whispers. Peter is crying freely now, and Tony sacrifices one of his hands from Peter’s to wipe them off his face. The heat from the kid’s cheeks burn his fingertips. “Dad. You’re- you-”
Alive? Here? Back? Peter’s sentence trails off, his coherence getting lost in the thick mist behind his eye. Tears of his own well up in Tony’s eyes and Peter’s small, shaking body blurs in front of him.
“Dad,” Peter wheezes, more tears dripping from his eyes. He’s growing weaker in Tony’s grip, the medteam becoming more frantic.
“I’m here Pete”, Tony whispers, his emotions bleeding into his voice.
A small, frail smile passes onto Peter’s lips. Then, as if realizing, it falls. “Am- am I dying?”
“No,” Tony says immediately. “You’re not dying. You’re going to be okay.”
“You’re- you’re dead.”
“I’m right here bud.”
“I’m scared.”
“You’re going to be alright. I’m right here with you, okay? I’m not leaving. You’re going to be okay.”
“Okay,” Peter repeats, as if testing the word on his tongue. The last string keeping him tethered to reality must break then, because his eyes close, head lolling to the side.
The elevator dings and they rush out of it, Peter growing limp against the stretcher. As they draw closer to the medbay, one of the staff grabs Tony’s arm, separating him from Peter.
“Hey!” he yells. “Hey, stop!”
“We need the space to work. He’s in good hands.”
I’m not leaving. He had told Peter that only moments before.
“I can’t- I have to go with him!”
“I’m sorry Mr. Stark.”
And just like that, Tony is left in the hall alone.
---
Peter is lucid two days later.
Or, well, mostly lucid.
He’s laying in bed, hooked up to an IV and playing a messy game of Go Fish with Tony. After reluctantly giving Tony a seven out of his hand, his eyes go wide and he drops his cards. “Wait!”
Tony looks up sharply, still on edge. The kid had nearly died, the doctors saying that if they had caught it even just an hour later, recovery wouldn’t have been an option. And Tony had been right beside him the whole time. Working away on a stupid mechanism while the kid’s brain boiled. “What?”
Peter looks frantic, his eyes wide above his fever-flushed face. “I called you dad, didn’t I?”
Tony huffs out a small laugh, rolling his eyes. He relaxes. “Are you kidding me? Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?”
“It’s not,” Peter assures. “It’s definitely not. I just- I just-”
“It’s okay,” Tony says, saving him the obligation for an explanation. “I’m surprised you remember, anyway. Your brain was quite literally melting.”
“Melting,” Peter echoes.
“Big time.”
Peter falls back against his pillows and retrieves his cards from the sheets with shaky hands. “Sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“You know, calling you dad.”
“Kiddo,” Tony says, smiling. “I don’t mind at all.”
They both freeze, and Peter blushes until his ears are flaming, not helped by the remnants of the fever. “Oh,” he says, trying to hide his smile, “okay. Noted.”
“Noted.”
“Do you have any threes?”
“You wish, kiddo.”
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boop-le-snoot · 3 years
Text
PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 11
CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A FIRST TIME READER
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TW for this chapter: more mild smut. more memes. more hijinks and shenanigans. coffee make the brain go skrrrt. bruce fluff & thor being a good bro™. some1 is catching ✨feelings✨. Previous chapters in the link above the cover pic.
Beta reader is @miscmarvelwritings so don't be shy, give her a read. She's the PB to my jelly.
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"I don't know about you..." Taylor Swift softly sang from the speakers.
"Bitch, I hope the fuck you do!" I shouted, tumbling into the kitchen with the grace of a giraffe on acid. The smell of coffee and fresh omelettes was mouthwatering. 
"You look… Good," Peter stared at me, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The tone of his voice bore very little understanding of the situation he found himself in.
I didn't sleep that night, instead pursuing a scientific quest right after being finger-fucked by Tony Stark. I blame the suits - he had one partially disassembled not ten feet from the puddle my juices had made on the floor - and well, I never said I had a great attention span. One terrible, inappropriate joke had led us to smirking to each other from both sides of the suit as we brainstormed how to best modify it for impromptu bondage sessions. If Peter could have heard us go at it, he'd never set foot in Tony's lab ever again.
On my mighty quest to quench the thirst for knowledge, I completely neglected basic hygiene, so the me that rolled into the kitchen that morning still had yesterday's outfit consisting of fishnets and Tony's hoodie, possibly stained with cum and pussy juice. As a bonus feature, infamous raccoon eyes had made an appearance, courtesy of me rubbing my face multiple times throughout the night.
"I'm feeling my oats," I declared proudly, sitting down next to Peter, making grabby hands at the coffee machine.
"I'm tempted to ask..." Clint handed me the steaming hot dish full of holy bean juice. "But I think I'd rather not." Pointedly, he moved away from me, just enough to make it known he was wary.
"What just happened?" Stephen Strange blinked owlishly.
Boy was he a sight for sore eyes. The wizard wasn't Tony, of course, but his plain white tee left very little to imagination, pulled tight across his toned chest and lean arms. The grey sweats? Illegal. That's a bonk and a ticket to the horny jail for me.
"You didn't get to sleep? Again?" Peter asked, exasperated.
"Sleep who?" I chirped, feeling way too energetic for someone running on some illegal drugs and a single orgasm. It was easy to shrug off the concerned stares I kept getting from the adults and Pete since my already wacky attention span decided to quit it's job without notice.
"Guys, have you seen… oh, there she is!" Tony scrambled into the kitchen, holding his head. That manic look did nothing for his complexion, but then again, I'd take him even filthy and crippled. "Don't just disappear like that!" He snatched the half-empty coffee cup, downing it's remnants in one go and immediately going for a refill. "We didn't finish programming in the shibari function..." He mumbled, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy, greasy hair.
"I..." Peter was still frozen. "I'm not sure I, uh, follow."
"So, me and Tones had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea ..." I started, leaning back in my chair. "But the execution, as usual, needs more work."
"Yes, I can see you've been having ideas," Pete's sass was ignored by both me and Tony. The man was kind enough to clumsily plop a coffee cup in front of me as he was beelining for the fridge. "What are you trying to install? Shib-what?"
"You don't want to know, Pete, trust me," Clint made big eyes at me from across the room. "I'm scared of you," He added, pointing an accusative finger in my direction.
I gave him my best manic stare, probably overdid it by a wide margin. Barton shrunk back, slinking subtly behind Stephen who cleared his throat.
"So I've heard you had an incident yesterday," The doctor was looking at me with concern and pity. "Do you need to visit the medbay?"
About a dozen unsaid and very inappropriate responses later, I simply shook my head negative. My mouth was not to be trusted whilst I was so distracted. Plus, he was hot. I kind of tended to think with my vagina instead of my brain around hot people.
"Good morning," Wanda entered the room, stopping briefly at my side to give me a hug. "Ugh, finally," She muttered the words, looking first at me, then at Tony. 
I raised my eyebrow in a silent question and she just smiled, reaching for her own coffee cup.
Tony mercilessly towed me back to his lab once I polished off two omelettes and another cup of coffee - what would've been my fourth was snatched out by an amused Stephen, all stern and firm and magical, meaning he simply whooshed it out of existence as I was raising it to my mouth. He didn't appreciate my choice of expletives, either, none too fondly rolling his eyes and beginning a lecture on heart attacks. Whatever, Tony was my knight in shining armour and we left the kitchen quietly plotting our mechanical plots right over the annoying doctor's mumbling. 
There was quite a lot of delicate soldering involved in the gauntlets of the new suit. Having to construct and fix everything on the go proved to be harder than building a robot; even for Tony, the genius engineer himself. We had burned ourselves and nearly dislocated our wrists too many times to count. Thankfully Friday ran the calculations in the background, so we just did the manual labor part.
And coding. The pounding in my skull, the acid in my loins. My God, I hated coding during a hangover. Tony didn't fare any better and that was the best consolation, really. Despite the consumed caffeine, he passed out somewhere during the initial stage. I held out not much longer, barely catching myself as I was reclining against him on the very floor we were building on, scattered cups and tools and glowing holo-screens keeping us company. 
My sleep was deep but not deep enough to miss a pair of deep male voices contemplating how to best move mine and Tony's sleeping bodies somewhere more comfortable. The engineer was a cuddler, it turns out, and refused to unwind himself from my prone body, going as far as to kick one of the men - I later learned it was Thor who got a swift punt in the shins from Tony when the Asgardian and Banner attempted to untangle our combined limbs. In the end, they settled awkwardly piling me on top of Tony and Thor single-handedly carried us all the way to Tony's penthouse, depositing us in the absolutely magnificent fluffy, enormous bed.
The bed? I wanted one as soon as I landed on it.
The fishnets? They were beginning to cut into the soft parts of my body, causing an uncomfortable stinging and itching sensation whenever I moved.
"Bwucie," I slurred with my eyes shut, feeling the man rustling around with a blanket, tucking us in. He was just the sweetest scientist.
"Sorry, we tried not to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Princess," He whispered, leaning closer to my face. His breath tickled my hair.
"M'kay, jus' wanna get these off," I weakly pulled at the offending piece of clothing.
The man chuckled. "That looks uncomfortable," Before softly sliding his hands up my legs, hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband and pulling them down. His hands were hot and soft; my moan was softer but he heard it nonetheless, hand briefly stilling on my thigh.
I snuggled deeper into Tony, rolling onto my side and unashamedly throwing a leg over his hips, happy to find his jeans were off, too.
It appeared that Tony's teammates had already developed some sort of care protocol for their resident mad scientists. Bruce's and Thor's actions had been executed with a practiced care and gentleness. The warm fuzzy feeling in my chest blossomed fully as Bruce once more tucked the blanket around me, tenderly patting me on the back and Tony on the shoulder.
"You'nThor, y'the best," I managed to wiggle out the words out of my muddled, uncooperative brain before returning back to the dreamland.
It felt like another ten minute nap when I woke up again. The lights in the room were off, the NYC skyline providing the illumination instead. Tony was still in bed with me, his breathing even and the quiet hum of the arc reactor steady under my ear. It was the first time I'd been close enough to him to hear the sound of it. 
Sleep slowly seeped out of my body, lead disappearing from my limbs. It seemed like I hadn't moved at all. Once my head cleared up, the confusion seeped in. I'd gone to second base with Tony and we did science and never spoke of it again. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me more than usual - but didn't resist a good ole sleepy cuddle.
What now? I never thought I'd actually get this far. Some part of me - probably the same part that sent me on a romantic novel reading spree a couple of years ago - thought he'd wake up, confess his secret love and attraction for me and we'd seal it with a kiss. Yeah, no, that sounded disgustingly unrealistic even to my own ears. There was no way I would be kissing someone with this swamp I had going on in my mouth.
I wasn't actually that naïve. Why would a man like him pursue something serious with a girl like me? I was a child in his eyes. In fact, all of the Avengers minus Wanda and Bucky treated me like a child. I knew why and I still hated it. I've been taking care of myself in all the ways but financial for years, surely, they had to have noticed that. Teachers in school certainly did. Bruce did, to some extent, I had to admit begrudgingly. Even if his behaviour was really peculiar sometimes.
"Do I make a comfortable pillow, Princess?" A chuckle startled me out of my musings. Tony sounded relaxed and warm and cosy.
"Yeah," I answered honestly, tilting to see his face. He was giving me that lopsided smirk, the one he previously saved for science and Peter and Clint's baking ventures. Something within me stirred, painfully tightening my chest, and I fought against it to preserve this memory like this - happy, carefree.
His thumb found it's way around me, tracing the line of my jaw with surprising tenderness. He was looking at me like I was made of glass. Like I was the most beautiful sculpture he'd ever seen.
I scrunched my nose when his finger found my lips. "I need a shower and a toothbrush," I declared, not knowing what else to do. All of this - the atmosphere, the shared comfort, the looks - it felt too intimate somehow. Having to be on full display of his intelligent, deep brown eyes was terrifying: I felt like crying one moment and laughing the next.
"I was having a moment here," Tony snorted indignantly but relented nonetheless, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position. 
I admired his broad shoulders and the dips and valleys of his arms as he stretched; he caught me staring and winked, of course. I retaliated with skimming my fingertips under the hem of his tee, lightly scratching my nails over his defined abs, delighted with his shiver. 
"Behave," He sternly mouthed, following with a smile.
"Never," I smiled back, slipping into banter with comfortable familiarity.
He then led me to the huge walk-in shower, unashamedly stripping off his shirt and socks on the way. Boxers were the last, flying somewhere over my head. My hormones were a raging inferno, or, at least that's what I would have said if someone asked me why the 'loading' icon was hanging over my head as I stared at Tony's round, firm ass. I had to touch it. I absolutely had to touch it, at least once in my life. 
My dignity was saved by my own yawn. Tony's hands used the opportunity to slide his hoodie (RIP) over my head, exposing me to the cold air. I shivered in my lacy bra and panties until they were gone, too. My flaws stared back at me from the wall-length mirror and with the way Tony's hands gently settled over my stomach, another hand copping a feel of my breast, I couldn't bring myself to care.
"Beautiful, Princess," He simply said, having noticed the frown on my face.
"No, you," I automatically replied, smirking.
"Me? Nah," He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to his arc reactor. "Sexy, however... I'm definitely fucking hot," He leered, pressing his hips into mine with a knowing smirk.
I wiggled my butt, taking my time to turn around and face him. I saw right through the defenses he'd put up. The team didn't start calling me "girl version of Tony" without a reason - I knew we were quite similar in the less desirable character trait category. Impulsive, selfish. Defensive.
Angry red lines spanned across his chest, some faded, some raised. In the middle of it all, the arc reactor shone like a blue little sun in its metal framing. I traced around it, feeling the uneven skin, bumps and dips of it. "It keeps you alive. That's more than enough. For me," I placed a chaste kiss right in the middle of it. 
I wished he didn't have to have the thing. I wished he'd never had to go through what he went though in Afghanistan - for me, the press release I'd read was enough to get a grasp on the fact he was tortured and hurt and fucked up in there.
Stepping into the shower, I retreated from him, retreated from my feelings getting in the way and ruining the fun. The least I wanted to do was humiliate myself by crying out of... Out of what, pity? Lovesickness?
"I'm starting to see why everybody else thinks we might be related," Tony's chuckle sounded tired and slightly forced.
"I hope not," A moment to figure out what knob to turn and hot water rained down my body. Almost instantly, the tension in me melted away. "I'm not really into incest and shit."
"Ew," He walked under the stream, sighing agreeably. "But you're into bondage, so you've got that going on for you."
"Yep. Bondage and hot old dudes," I shrugged, reaching for the shampoo.
"I definitely qualify for all three," Tony promptly snatched the bottle out of my hands, standing behind me to do the tedious task of washing me. I allowed, guiltlessly enjoying the treatment. His dexterous fingers massaged my scalp, caressed my body. 
A moan slipped out of me at the glide of his hand across my nether regions.
"Tut-tut, Birdbrain is going to pitch a fit if we're late for dinner!"
"Fuck the Chicken," I announced petulantly, attempting to follow the motion of his hand with my hips. He held me firmly by my stomach, only succeeding in adding fuel to the fire within me. "Tony-y-y..."
"Nu-uh," He replied, but the smile hidden in my shoulder and the boner poking me in the hip gave him away.
"Sir?" I tried, getting a low groan in response. "Master? Owner? Daddy?" 
His breath stuttered at the last syllable, teeth closing none-too-gently around a patch of my skin. I felt a bruise bloom under his mouth, the delicious pull of it making me realize I'd be marked by Tony for days. A full-body shudder erupted from me at the thought. 
"You're trouble," He growled, grinding his own arousal into my ass. "Filthy, spoiled brat," Tony punctuated his words with another claiming bite on my shoulder blade. 
"I'm your trouble now," I smirked, relishing in all the attention my body was getting. The fingers that granted me sweet ecstasy at night a fresh memory in my mind, I relented my own urgent need in favour of repaying the man of my dreams for his troubles. 
One smirk and my knees rested comfortably on the strangely soft floor of the shower. I came face to face with Tony's hard cock. It stood proudly, the flushed tip of it dripping - with water or pre-come, I didn't know, but was eager to find out. 
"Fuck," Tony gasped, gazing down at me in astonishment as I tongued the slit of his cockhead. "You dirty little thing," He seemed to gather his wits quickly enough, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. 
He was just about to find out how dirty, I decided. There was something satisfying on a purely primal level, seeing a powerful man absolutely losing it with his dick in my mouth. Rapidly, I swallowed as much of him as I could. His girth throbbed. 
"Ruin me?" I popped off, resting my cheek against the hardness of it, tugging on his free hand to place it in my hair. My own arousal flared in response to his bewildered hunger.
Tony wasted no time in fisting a hand in my hair, carefully but firmly putting my mouth onto his cock. Inch after inch disappeared within my mouth; I was breathing through my nose as he slowly began fucking my mouth.
"Fuck, Jesus Christ, Princess, fuck," The mantra fell from his lips, echoing in the large room, mixing in with the water still pouring onto our bodies from above. The heat of it had nothing on the smouldering fire in my belly where it coiled tight and low. Tony's musk on my tongue, the firm hold on my hair. He truly held me, in body and in mind. There was nowhere else I'd rather be than on my knees for him.
I moaned around him causing a stutter in the moderate tempo. Our eyes met: his, wide and gleaming captured my own and I couldn't look away. With a wanton moan, Tony increased the pace, it quickly became brutal and punishing. I held onto his thighs for dear life, wordlessly pleading him to use my mouth for his own pleasure. 
And he took it, shamelessly, emptying himself into my mouth with a groan that nearly made me come untouched. It was beautiful and I swallowed every drop of him, refusing to let the evidence of his bliss go to waste. 
"Fuck," His voice was ragged. 
I rested my cheek against his thick thigh, catching my breath. "Good?" Just to quickly be pulled to my feet, trapped between his hot, wet body and the chilly tiles of the nearest wall. The shiver that ran through me was only partially caused by the sudden change in temperature.
"You did so good, you're my good girl," He mumbled against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth without any restraint. His other hand slid between my legs, immediately toying with my clit. That and the hastily spoken praise coupled with the feverish way he was licking himself out of my mouth sent me over the edge, until I was falling, stumbling head-first into an ecstatic abyss.
"Mmm... Tony," Dreamily, I savoured the moment.
"Oh, we're back to first name basis?" He snarked, finally turning off the water.
Pliant as ever, I followed him out of the shower and into his walk-in closet where he pointed at a row of t-shirts and hoodies. I grinned mischievously as I took my pick. "Daddy?"
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hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?
Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:
@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)
@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger
@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam
@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked
@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected
@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct
@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka
Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect
@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know
@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath
AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch
Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works
Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)
@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation
As for specific works I like:
Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth
It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,
Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'
Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight
The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.
The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.
“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”
The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.
He’d probably be dead in a week.
The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes
Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.
Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger
The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.
Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.
The Evidence by StrivingArtist
Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.
Fuck it.
He knew they noticed.
And he knew they liked him better this way.
Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight
The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.
Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.
James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.
When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.
The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?
Puppy Love by Reioka
Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.
Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska
After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.
Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.
Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.
Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow
Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”
What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet
For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:
"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)
We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.
Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.
Except for geese. Geese are assholes.
and so, we unfold by TheKitteh
Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.
An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.
Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.
He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.
He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.
What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.
And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?
Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!
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mrsluttystark · 4 years
Text
Repeat After Me Part 2
Part 1 
You guys have no idea how much it meant to me that part 1 was so well received. Thank you from the bottom of my little starker heart! 
Tags: nff, age difference, former teacher/student, mention of daddy kink, mention of choking
Word count: 3.1k
Read below the cut
Peter wakes up five minutes before his alarm, like he always does.  He absolutely hates the shrill screech of it.  His bed creaks and groans as he sits up and swings his legs over the side.  Suddenly, the springs that had previously been holding him up collapse under him, making him yelp in surprise.  Peter made a mental note that maybe it was time for a new bed, he’d been holding on to the rickety twin mattress he had all his childhood since it was the only thing he had left from May’s.
He usually went into the lab on Saturdays, even though he was supposed to be off during the weekend.  It’s not like he has plans or anything, but he guesses he could shift his schedule around a little to go mattress shopping.
His arm darts out like clockwork and taps his screen to turn the alarm off before his phone could utter the first mind melting ring. Peter runs a hand through his hair to brush some stray curls out of his face and stretches before getting out of bed to do his morning routine.
It’s not until Peter sits down at his two-seater dining table with a bowl of captain crunch berries, two pieces of toast, and a cup of earl gray tea, does he finally check his phone.  
The spoon is barely out of his mouth when he sees the notifications.  Eyes wide, he chokes on the cereal trying to force its half chewed self down his throat.  He can taste the oat milk is his nose and it is not good. 
Mr. Stark accepted his friend request and messaged him?  Peter looked around his apartment, skeptical.  Was he dreaming? Was this one of those life-like dreams where he gets ready for the day then wakes up and has to do it all over again?  He looked down at his arm, should he pinch himself? No, Peter, that’s stupid.
He shook his head and looked at his phone again, opening the Messenger app.
Hey, Kid.
Shit, he was toast.  Collecting himself, Peter took a deep breath to prepare himself for a conversation with his former high school teacher (that he may or may not want to fuck him senseless and cuddle afterward). He racked his brain thinking about how to approach this.  Should he be bold? 
Hi, Daddy. Please cum down my throat? Yeah...that might be too bold.
Hello, Mr. Stark.  I humbly thank you for accepting my friend request.  Ugh, too weird.
He’s overthinking it, he knows. Peter types out and deletes maybe five more messages before he finally settles on:
09:10 am 
Hi, Mr. Stark.  It’s Peter.
09:11 am
Parker.
Peter threw his phone down on the table and put his head in his hands, bowl of cereal soggy and forgotten. He made a face at it and pushed the bowl away, pulling his toast closer.  He took bites of a slice distractedly and washed it down with some tea.  He’d regret not eating a proper breakfast later, but right now his appetite was replaced with a turning feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  His phone vibrates on the table, startling him from his thoughts.
From Tony Stark 09:22 am
Yeah, Peter.  I did read your name on your profile.
09:23 am
Right. Sorry.
From Tony Stark 09:23 am
Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just pokin’ fun.
09:24 am
(sweating emoji)
Thanks for accepting my friend request btw, Mr. Stark.
From Tony Stark 09:26 am
No big deal, thanks for the request, it’s been a while.
And Tony is fine, you’re not my student anymore, Pete.
09:26 am
Yeah, okay. Tony. I can do that
So you remember me?
From Tony Stark 09:27 am
I remember all my students
09:27 am
Really???
From Tony Stark 09:28 am
No, not really lol
But I do remember you, you were a lot skinnier back then.
09:30 am
(eye roll emoji) And you were a lot younger 
From Tony Stark 09:31 am
Ouch, that was uncalled for
09:32 am
You asked for it
So what have you been up to?
From Tony Stark 09:34 am
I’m a mechanical engineer now, quit teaching a few years ago. What about you?
09:35 am
That’s awesome! You were way too smart to be a teacher.
I’m a research chemist
From Tony Stark 09:38 am
Thanks, kid.
That’s about where I’d thought you’d end up, as smart as you are.
09:40 am
Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stark
Tony*
Sorry.
From Tony Stark 09:40 am
Everywhere?
09:41 am
Everywhere.
From Tony Stark 09:50 am
Say, Pete. I don’t actually have a habit of checking this app and I’m about to head out of the house for the day.  I’d like to continue this conversation, so here’s my number if you wanna text me [hidden contact information].
No pressure of course.
From Tony Stark 09:53 am
Peter?
New Message
To: Tony
You know who I am.
From: Tony
Had me there for a second kid. 
I’m about to drive, I’ll text you in a bit.
Peter put his phone down for the first time in almost an hour, eyes straining to refocus after staring at his screen intensely for so long.  His heart was pounding in his chest and his cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.  Had that really happened? Peter brought a hand up to rub at his jaw, still in a daze.  He was finding it very hard to believe that this wasn’t some elaborate dream because there is absolutely no way that this could’ve happened in real life.  Talk about a glitch in the simulation.
He really got Tony Stark’s phone number, and he didn’t even have to ask for it!
Peter scoffed in disbelief, no fucking way! He opened the Facebook app again and went to Tony’s profile.  Turns out there wasn’t much else on it, he had a total of 3 profile pictures and less than 100 friends, none of which were other students and only a few midtown teachers.  So, he either was a very private person or he didn’t use Facebook at all.  And if it was the latter (or both for that matter), why did he accept Peter’s friend request in the first place?
Peter decided not to think about it right now.
He went to his profile pictures and glanced at the current one he already studied last night.  The previous one was just the Guns N’ Roses album cover for Appetite for Destruction.  Classic Rock fan, noted.  His first profile picture, though, was an absolute masterpiece.  Tony looked to be on a beach somewhere, his hair was wet and messy from the clear blue salt water.  Peter wanted to run his tongue over every inch of the olive toned skin exposed to the sun.  His smile was radiant, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, with thick, dark eyebrows peeking over his sunglasses.  Swung low on his hips right below a toned stomach were hot rod red swim shorts that stopped in the middle of his thigh, showing off his tan legs dusted with dark hair.
Peter tried not to look, he really did, but he could not stop his eyes from landing on the older man’s crotch.  And he was not disappointed.  There, curving onto his thigh, was a long, thick unmistakable dick print.  Peter’s mouth watered at the sight as his own cock stirred with interest.
Fuck. He wondered how big he really was in person.  How far he could take it down his throat.  He wanted to know how it would feel to be stretched and filled by Tony’s cock.
Scooting his chair back abruptly, Peter shot up off of it.  His hard-on tenting almost painfully in his pajama pants and it was starting to create a wet spot.  Mattress shopping can wait, Peter needed to cum, like, yesterday.
He rushes to his room and yanks the drawer of his night stand open, revealing a wooden box.  Peter unlatches the box and grabs a bottle of lube and his veiny lifelike vibrating dildo with a suction cup right behind the silicone balls from his small collection.  This one was by far his favorite, it’s eight inches long and he loved feeling the veins and the girth of it filling him up. 
Peter lays a towel down on his bed and climbs to the middle, carefully avoiding the new dent in the mattress. He bunches up the pillows behind his back so he’s laying at an incline, then starts rubbing himself over his pajama pants while he uncaps the lube and squeezes some onto his fingertips. Clumsily, he pulls and shimmies his pants down his hips with his left hand, breath hitching when his heated erection makes contact with the cool air in his apartment.  It lands with a light smack against his abs and Peter tugs his shirt up and under his chin.  Kicking his pants off his bed, Peter spreads his legs.  He can feel his hole puckering in anticipation of being used.
His left hand begins lightly skimming his torso, feeling his abs contract under his finger tips.  Bringing them higher, he rubs across his chest, pinching his nipples softly.  Peter rubs the lube between his thumb and forefinger to warm it up, then starts rubbing the tight ring of muscle in circles, making his cock jump.
Once he’s coated, he sinks a finger in slowly to coax himself open.  His left hand continues caressing his body, skirting across the area right above his cock.  Peter lets out a plethora of whines and pants, eyes screwed shut at the feeling.  The image of Tony’s face urging him to take another finger.
He knows Tony’s fingers would be thicker, stretching him wider than Peter ever could with his own.  The younger man hoped his former teacher would be able to handle him the way he wanted.  Peter imagined large, strong hands encircling his throat while the other gripped hard on his hips while he took him.
Three of his fingers are buried deep in himself before he even touches his neglected, leaking cock.  His left hand comes to collect the precum pooling at the head and dribbling down his shaft, allowing his hand to glide along his hot skin. He strokes himself lazily as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for the dildo.  Uncapping the lube again he slicks up the silicone and brings it to his open, waiting hole. 
Pulling his left hand off of his cock, Peter grabs one of the pillows and stuffs it under the small of his back.
He imagines Tony looking down at him with dark, analytical eyes, watching Peters every movement.  The rise and fall of his chest, his heaving breaths.  The way Peter keens when he’s stretched like he longs for the sting of it.  Would he fuck into him slowly or would he seath himself in one smooth, quick stroke?
Peter chooses the latter.
He cries out as he pushes the dildo balls deep into his ass without pause.  The pain from the stretch mixes deliciously with pleasure.  Sweat beading on his forehead has Peter’s curls sticking wetly to his skin.  His entire body is covered in a thin sheen of it.
The young man turns onto his left side, dildo still deep inside him.  Peter reaches around his back with his right hand and grips the bottom of the suction cup.  He sighs, easing the dildo out slowly before pressing the button at the base of the shaft to turn on the vibration and ramming it into himself once more.
Tony would be taking him from behind, a long arm encircling Peter’s body, hand coming to grip him at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone so that he could pull the younger man down and onto his thick cock while he fucks up into him.  
Peter continued to fuck himself roughly with the dildo while he thought of Tony’s hard body doing it to him instead.  He’d whisper dirty things in Peter’s ear while he fucked him.  Tell him that he’s such a good little slut for his teacher.  Peter whined at the thought, he’d love it if Tony let him call him Mr. Stark in bed.
He starts stroking his cock faster, feeling his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach.  His right arm is starting to get tired from fucking the dildo into his ass for so long, he’s gotta cum soon.
Peter’s eyes fly open when he hears his phone vibrate through the thrumming in his ears.  It’s a text from Tony.
How’s my favorite student? Miss me?
That does it.  Peter’s entire body jolts as he cums all over his hand and the towel he laid on the bed, a high whine caught in his throat. 
He’s still trying to catch his breath a few minutes later, after he eases the dildo out and places it on the towel.  He wipes his hand off on it as well before he grabs his phone.  He definitely needs a shower now. Then he’ll go to the mall.
To: Tony
Don’t flatter yourself
To: Tony
Maybe a little
-
Tony can’t help but smile at his phone, he might have been a little too eager with the message, typing it up as soon as he put his car in park.  The easy banter going on between him and Peter was refreshing.  Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt genuinely excited to talk to someone, let alone text.
As the conversation kept flowing while Tony picked up his dry cleaning, he could only deduce that it was because they were nearly equal on an intellectual level.  It may have helped that Peter was easy on the eyes as well.
They talked about their projects at work and the research behind it, what it was like at Columbia for Peter, and how MIT had been to Tony.  The older man made a mental note to ask where Peter worked at a later date, maybe he could recruit him.  He learned that Peter’s favorite colors were blue and red.  That he hated horror movies but watched them anyway just to spite himself.  He loved rom-coms and (surprise, surprise) sci-fi movies.  He couldn’t cook to save his life, Tony assured him he could give him lessons if he wanted, he could make a mean Chicken Piccata.
Tony couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it at all.  The conversation was innocent and Tony was a flirt by nature, Pepper never had a problem with it.  If anything, this thing with Peter was just a budding friendship.  The universe knows Tony needed someone to talk to.
Around noon, Tony’s stomach started to grumble, not surprising considering the hearty breakfast of black coffee he had this morning.  Peter mentioned earlier that he’d been craving Gyros, and that didn’t sound half bad right about now.  He was a few blocks away from the mall anyway.
From: Peter
Here’s a contact picture, in case you needed one...
[see attachment]
The picture Peter sent was absolutely adorable.  His bangs fell over his forehead, slightly parted to the side so it wasn’t completely covered.  Tony felt utterly entranced by the younger man’s smile and the way his left eyebrow looked like he’d slept with his face buried in a pillow.  He was wearing a T-Shirt with a science pun on it, as if the kid couldn’t be any dorkier.  Tony loved it.
To: Peter
Is that a sly way of getting me to send you a selfie back?
Cute shirt by the way, where ya headed?
From: Peter
Maybe...did it work?
I’m going shopping for a new mattress, old one crapped out on me.
To: Peter
Here, since you asked so nicely
[see attachment]
From: Peter
Oof, you can just delete mine.  You just made me go from a solid 6 to like a 2
To: Peter
Hey, give yourself some credit, you’re definitely at least a 5
KIDDING, I’d rate you a solid 9, kid. Just because there’s always room for improvement
From Peter:
I would just like to know who gave you the right to be so sassy and RUDE
To: Peter
Definitely my narcissistic ego
No, but seriously Pete, you’re stunning.  Don’t listen to the old guy
From: Peter
Pls you’re not that old, Tony.
To: Peter
A man after my own heart.  Thanks, kid.
From: Peter
Anytime :-)
You’re more like my friend’s hot dad if anything
To: Peter
Little shit.
From Peter:
;-)
Tony shook his head fondly and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he entered the mall, looking around for something indicating what direction the food court was in.  He hadn’t been to this mall in a while, he admits since he’s been making more money it’s kept him from coming and eating the fast food they had here.  So he followed the signs until he got to the food court, and noticed there were still quite a few tables open for him to sit and eat at.  He made a point to stay as far away from the family with three screaming children as possible.
He scanned the choices until he found somewhere that had gyros and went to go stand in line.  The menu wasn’t too extensive, he could either get a gyro platter or a falafel platter, and he already knew what he was here for.  His eyes fell from the menu to the person in front of him.  Not to be a creep, he’s only human, but he had a fantastic ass.  A perfect little bubble butt.
The man was a little shorter than him, he had a trim waist that opened up to broad shoulders not bigger than Tony’s.  Incredible figure.  He’s probably a dancer or a marathon runner.  He also noticed this man had brown curls.  That made him snort softly to himself, he either had a type or Peter just invaded his mind in a short amount of time.  It could be either, honestly.
His eyes dropped to the phrase printed on the back of his shirt.
Never trust an atom, they make up everything
Ha.  Peter would love that shirt.
Wait.
Peter has that shirt.  It’s the one he was wearing in his selfie.
“Peter?”
The man in front of him whirled around to look at him with a puzzled expression.  Tony suddenly found himself unable to move or say another word.  He was instantly captivated by doe eyes and one of the prettiest faces he’d seen in a long time.
He watched his confusion turn into realization and then disbelief and dare he say: panic.
“Tony?”
@sweetqueen449, @slut-for-starker, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerhowlter, @sthefystarkersworld, @crazycocococonut, @bris-sins, @delicateavenuenacho, @ironspiderstarker, @katzenbaby1, @spider-iron-man, @rebel13lion39, @twokinkybeans, @frenchfrostpudding, @cherrygoldlove, @silkystarkk, @icandoakickflip, @irondaddio, @briesb1tch
creds to @problemchildnoonewanted for some of the messages in the beginning
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veryvincible · 3 years
Note
If tony meets the criteria for ocd, why do you still say he doesn't have it? Not disagreeing just curious
Disclaimer again: I am not a mental health professional, I am simply a mental health advocate with many years of research under my belt, as well as lots of firsthand experience with the diagnostic process and other mental health-related incidences with the medical field (in America specifically). So, as always, feel free to look into it yourself if you’re interested in it, because there’s always discourse in the (very messy) field of psychology. Anyway, on we go.
The thing to remember here is that, with fictional characters, we don’t get to delve into their minds as much as we’d like to; internal monologue, as deep and complex and beautiful as it can be, is still a collection of words to define a mass of feelings, and these masses of feelings can be attributed to so, so many things. When a therapist diagnoses you, they get to ask funky questions like, “Do you feel like your thoughts and concerns spiral, and you’re helpless to stop them?” “Thinking back to your childhood, do you think you exhibited similar symptoms that you’re experiencing currently?” “Do you, personally, have an opinion about what may have been a catalytic event for you adopting this state of mind?” and all sorts of things. Though those are much more formally put than most questions I’ve been asked by therapists, the gist is basically the same-- they get to deep dive into your history, your mind, your self-awareness, your body language, your feelings... and you’re one cohesive person with a cohesive story. 
For comic book characters, we don’t get to delve into that. We don’t get to go, “Well, his childhood was like this, and that explains these behaviors! We can assume his panic response is Like This, and we can assume his attachment style is Like This, and we can assume his symptoms are Like This, and we can assume he feels Like This,” but those are all assumptions, and we can’t probe further. On top of that, most of them aren’t even intentional-- sure, yes, Tony Stark is a very sad man, and most writers make him this very sad man, but I can guarantee that most writers aren’t specifically looking into MDD and writing Tony accordingly. Some may be drawing from personal experience, others may be drawing from assumptions, etc. Whatever the case, Tony is not a cohesive man with a psychological timeline wherein one event leads to a developed response, consistently.
Above all else, diagnosis is a tool for treatment-- yes, it is excellent to be able to better understand yourself and feel the relief that comes along with this, but diagnosis came into being for the sake of medical professionals being able to say, “Hm, you’ve got [whatever]. I will go tell the other doctor you’ve got [whatever], so that guy can help you, because he specializes in [whatever], or you can try these home remedies for [whatever], or we can delve into [whatever] emotionally with talk therapy.”
Because diagnosis is a tool for treatment, you get these funky little footnotes in the DSM (which, again, is not the end-all, be-all, but when it comes to fictional characters, it’s totally fine) and other diagnostic tools that tell you “Even if you meet all these criteria, this diagnosis isn’t necessary if these symptoms would be better explained by something else!” because treating you for every psychological condition you qualify for could be rough on your body, it could end up with conflicting treatments (especially if you make incorrect assumptions, or if certain symptoms are stemming from different physiological factors despite appearing the same externally), and it’s just kind of tedious.
Like, you could potentially exhibit every symptom under the diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety, but if you have severe PTSD from long-term trauma that’s made you super jittery, it might be accepted that Generalized Anxiety wouldn’t be the best diagnosis for you, because ideally the treatment you’d receive for PTSD (trauma counseling, medication, etc.) would help with that.
I will say here that having an “umbrella diagnosis” under which other potential diagnoses could fall is not the same thing as having comorbid disorders; you probably know that already, but I’m going to say it anyway, just in case. Comorbidity involves overlap but separation of diagnoses, whereas the whole “Don’t diagnose your patient with [whatever disorder] if these symptoms are better explained by another thing!” happens more often when the entirety of one potential diagnosis fits under a section of another, more fitting diagnosis. So, if you see anyone with very long lists of diagnoses (probably don’t put big lists like that in your bios, though, please-- that seems kind of dangerous), that’s not a sign that they’re, like, mental illness-hoarding or whatever the fuck, despite that being a very common assumption that a lot of neurotypical people (and honestly, other mentally ill people) can have. Bodies like to be balanced. When one thing falls out of place, a lot of other things might follow. Just a disclaimer for you here, because I feel it’s important to say.
So, that covers... most of the reason why I don’t personally like to point to Tony as a character with OCD. First of all, sure, he has what could be considered obsessions and what could be considered compulsions, but we can’t actually ask him, “Hey, do you think these thoughts are obsessive? Are these potential compulsions things you perform ritualistically in order to make the obsessive thoughts go away?”
And... I don’t know. I think OCD (for me, specifically-- I know there are others with OCD whose opinions differ, and more power to them) is something that has to be written more intentionally for it to read as representation. Sure, they might have what could be intrusive thoughts... but my intrusive thoughts don’t just feel like thoughts that “could” be intrusive. They are intrusive, unmistakably. My compulsions don’t just feel like solutions to the problems I’ve made up or exaggerated in my head; they’re irrational, fear-based, anxiety-inducing. It’s the way you make sure every upstairs door is closed before heading downstairs, because otherwise you get a tightness in your chest and you can’t focus or breathe quite right; or the way you get up out of bed to make sure your door is locked multiple times just in case you forgot; or the way you develop avoidant tendencies or overly communicative tendencies because if you don’t, the ramifications within your relationships could be unbearable. It’s having a voice inside your head that’s not just telling you you’re a monster, the perfect antithesis to everything you’ve ever held dear; it’s a voice inside your head that is the monster, a voice that sounds the same as your own, simultaneously overprotective of your well-being and overly interested in the total destruction of your person.
And... I’m not saying Tony doesn’t experience that. He clearly has this feeling of “I am a monster” inside of him. He clearly has that feeling due to what he perceives as his own shortcomings. But these are comic books, and though there are many ways you could introduce intrusive thoughts in an internal monologue, we don’t really get that with Tony as much as I’d need to in order to feel represented by him. We don’t get him thinking shit like, “You could abandon this all, you could leave this shit to the rest of the team, you could fuck off and live on an island somewhere else, you could hole yourself up in a room and never leave, you could kill them, you could kill him, you could kill everyone, you know for a fact you have the resources to kill everyone, don’t you want to make sure? What if your tech fails? What if you do kill everyone? What would happen, huh? How would that look? How would that feel? What do you think it would feel like to pick up their bodies, to look in their eyes and have nothing staring back at you? You could tell him you hate him. Not to save him from you, no-- you could just do it because you’re able to do it, because you’ve cultivated these relationships and you’ve fooled everyone into loving you despite knowing you don’t deserve it. You’ve tricked them, and every day you continue on like this you’re manipulating them, and you’ve taken so much from them-- they’ve put so much of themselves in your hand that you could so, so easily crush if you just took a second and did it.”
... And we don’t get the accompanying monologue of, “No, god no, what the fuck, that’s not who I am, that’s not who I want, I’m not like that, I love them, that can’t be who I am, if that’s who I am then what does that say about me, what does that say about the space I take up, what does that make me?”
Which is where the OCD version of “I am a monster” tends to originate-- the inherent inability to separate oneself from the illness, the difficulty in coping with an overactive survival mechanism ready to ensure you’re prepared for every single thing that could go wrong, very specifically the things you’re most worried about, because that’s what matters, right? The things you’re worried most about. And Tony’s most worried about love, about his loved ones, about the planet, about life.
But “I am a monster” doesn’t imply that internal monologue. “I am a monster” could be a legitimate analysis of what he’s been through and what he’s done, clouded by self-loathing instilled in him by his father. “I am a monster” could be something he’s thought since he was younger, not because of any specific symptoms he developed, but because of what he was told-- because he was told he was wrong, bad, unlovable.
I think Tony could get there. I think I honestly may have written Tony there at some point, just because it’s easy to write for me. But if we’re following standard diagnostic procedures with a man on a page who really hasn’t been written intentionally with anything other than substance abuse, symptoms of PTSD, and depression... I don’t know. It doesn’t read like OCD to me. It doesn’t feel like OCD to me, and if at any point it did, I think that would be more of me filling in blanks with my own experiences than it would be anything else.
(There is one canonical instance of “I could kill this person right now if I wanted to!” level intrusive-ish thoughts I can think of off the top of my head, and that is in the most recent Iron Man run, and that also doesn’t read like OCD to me because, honestly, nothing Cantwell writes with regards to mental health seems natural or authentic or accurate. Also, I don’t know if it really qualifies as an intrusive thought if it feels more like a justified outburst of rage to the character thinking it, so, uh. Hmm.)
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