#not because I'm particularly tall but because my bones/muscles are bad and sitting in a car for long periods of time is painful for me lol

[arcaneacolyte]

@batcadillac and I were talking about which Ghouls we think know how to drive a car/drive during a road trip and this is what we came up with lol

Swiss: Can drive. He's pretty chill and smooth driver, but he doesn't ever signal, and somehow never gets hit. Takes really convoluted back ways to get places because he claims that, 'I know a way that's faster'. It has yet to be determined whether or not these 'shortcuts' are actually faster. Picks obnoxious radio stations when it's his turn that makes everyone groan, but he puts it on full blast because he thinks it's funny.

Rain: Cannot drive. He vehemently denies that it's because he's a little bit of a klutz, it's more that there are plenty of others in the pack who can, and why should he have to learn if he doesn't want to? He is a passenger princess and will not help with navigation or anything. More than likely he is asleep with his own little travel neck pillow and sleep mask.

Dew: Does not drive. He gets road rage on the driver's behalf, so the idea of him actually driving is too scary of a thought for the others to comprehend. One time he threatened to disembowel another driver for cutting them off. Actually incredibly good at navigation though, so he's usually riding shotgun. The others aren't even sure he actually knows how to drive, and whether he does or not is a moot point, because even if he can't, he's going to pretend like he can. Cumulus: Can drive but doesn't. She gets too much anxiety over it and will 100% cry about it. She almost had a full breakdown trying to merge onto a highway once, so she doesn't have to drive ever. She's is perfectly content in singing along to the radio or playing car games and is really good at heightening the groups morale when it comes to long car rides. Cirrus: Cannot drive. She never really bothered to learn since like Rain, she noticed that there are at least several others in the pack who can and actually like to drive, so what's the point? Unlike Rain though, she's not a passenger princess. She's a master at organization and timing. There's never a missed bathroom break or forgotten item on her watch. Sunshine: Can drive, but she is the most terrifying behind the wheel. Just because she can, doesn't mean she should. She is a speed demon and wants to see how fast she can go. She weaves in and out of traffic because, 'it's fine, I'm not gonna hit anyone'. She has driven Copia exactly once because he almost had a heart attack. Mountain: Can drive. One of the only Ghouls who isn't Multi that can drive a car with ease. Due to his abilities on the drums, the multi-tasking of driving a car is fairly easy in comparison. He is the safest driver and drives calmly and obeys all of the traffic laws. The only unfortunate thing is that he can get physically uncomfortable pretty fast since it's difficult to find a car that fits his height well. Aether: Can drive, but he's not a huge fan. Being a Quintessence Ghoul, with a lot of cars on the road, it can be hard to block out the Quintessence energy coming off of everything, so he has to concentrate really hard to be able to drive as safely as he wants to. Still will drive in a pinch if someone is too tired, but he's really tense and it can lead him into getting a migraine if he does it for too long. Unfortunately there can't be any music or really any conversation over quiet talking, because he might actually implode from sensory overload. Aurora: Can drive. She may be tiny and have to pull the seat all the way forward, but she's one of the best drivers in the pack. Even with her small stature, she loves driving big cars when she gets the chance. She loves being able to see everything, and the actual feeling of driving is pleasant for her. More often than not, besides Mountain, she's the pick for first driver. She will drive until Cirrus tells her that she needs to take a break, but she usually will be the one to volunteer for a second driving shift. Phantom/Aeon: Can't drive. He's the youngest in the pack, so it really isn't expected of him? He also gets too excited about all of the things they pass by, so his distractibility isn't really wanted when it comes to driving. However, he is the keeper of the snacks and drinks and he loves that job. Rations everything out perfectly, and knows what snacks go best together. He is the best at any of the car games and loves to play them with Cumulus.

#ghost bc #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul headcanons #ghoul headcanons #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #aurora ghoulette #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #tag yourself I'm Mountain #not because I'm particularly tall but because my bones/muscles are bad and sitting in a car for long periods of time is painful for me lol

[jj-the-writer]

CHAPTER 3.

Not a sound.

Tw: physical and verbal abuse.

A week has passed after Shelingia's parents informed her about her combat lessons, and she took it upon herself to practice her fighting skills in preparation for her trainer's arrival. She felt ready for him today. From the day her parents told her about him, she never really knew how to feel about having a person they chose to train her. She'd gotten where she was all by herself after all. Shelingia felt a little bit of guilt for the man that would come to get beat up and burned by her, because of her reasonable confidence in her fighting prowess. She had a haunt and he didn't after all, it's only natural she'd be able to best him in combat.

In the training room, Shelingia was waiting for her Mother to arrive with the "skilled fighter", as she called him. After some minutes of anxiously waiting, they both arrive.

Mother: "Shelingia Dear! We have now arrived!"

Irritated by her mother's jolly attitude she thinks and curses her. "Oh my god. Will you stop doing that? Even the walls can notice how fake your act is... Keep it together, Shelingia... Keep it together..."

Shelingia stands up, hiding her irritation just as the desert sand hides the bones of a deceased animal. She puts her arms behind her waist and attempts to speak. "Mother! Welcome, it's a pleasure t-"

Her mother cuts her off abruptly, talking over her like she didn't even try to speak. "This is your new trainer, he goes by Daryun in case you were curious, he will help you exercise on a moving target."

Daryun bows slightly to show his respect.

Daryun: "It's a pleasure to meet you, lady Shelingia."

Daryun was significantly taller than Shelingia and a little taller than her mother (even though she was wearing heels). He has a great muscle mass but he didn't look like one of those bodybuilders, no. He ate his food and was happy for it too.

When Shelingia noticed him she was intrigued and a question formed into her head... "Wow, Daryun is a very bulky man, he's tall and muscular, he seems strong, but not particularly fast for target exercising... Very curious choice from my mother's side... I really don't want to do this... But I need to be polite while she's present, I don't want things to get... Bad."

Shelingia: "The pleasure is mine, I'm looking forward to working with you."

Mother: "Well now that you're introduced, I'll leave you two to your lesson. Believe me, I'd love to sit here and watch, but dear mommy has tons of work that needs to be done, she can't hang out forever now can she? In any case... I'm expecting great things from you Shelingia. I hope you know that." She said before giving her daughter a seemingly genuine smile, which sent a chill down Shelingia's spine.

After that, her mother left the large white room with an elegant walk.

Before the lesson started, Shelingia decided to speak first, manually changing her facial expression from interested to indifferent.

Shelingia: "You will not need to bow to me unless my mother or father is around, you will address me with my name and nothing else, the faster the lesson is over the better for me. Let's get to it then."

Caught off guard, Daryun attempts to respond.

Daryun: "Understandable, la- ... Shelingia."

Shelingia: "Good. Get ready, I'm gonna need to stretch my arms a bit before the session."

Daryun gets in a fighting stance as Shelingia asked him to, he did not seem a little bit scared, Shelingia took this as taunting and asked: "Has my mother informed you of my abilities mister Daryun?"

Daryun: "I am filled in on your Haunt if that's what you're asking. Give it your best, Shelingia."

Shelingia felt like he was mocking her, she was ready to beat him up real good so she decided to go for a hard hit from the get-go. She runs towards him and goes for a sideways kick, boosted by fire, aiming right to his ribs.

Suddenly, Shelingia realized that her kick took a few seconds longer than she expected to hit her target, before tripping and losing her footing but quickly regaining it before falling. Daryun had avoided her kick. Even though Shelingia was confident in her attack speed more than anything, his movements were so fast that she could barely see him. She took a second to take in what had just happened and she thought... "Huh, 'don't judge a book by its cover' they say. This could be troublesome... I need to focus and hit him as much as I can..."

She started focusing her mind on one thing, her target. She was going as fast as she could manage, however she kept missing him over and over. She had to think of a strategy to hit him... She noticed that even if he was moving fast he kept his feet rooted to the ground as much as he could, so she got an idea. She boosted herself from the back to gather speed and get close to him, then she ducked and made a low kick, hitting Daryun's shin and making him lose his footing for a short while, so she managed to hit an uppercut leaving a small burn on his beard. After Daryun regained his footing, he started avoiding all of Shelingia's attacks once more. Shelingia started getting frustrated...

After the lesson...

Heavy breaths are coming from Shelingia's way, her eyes averted from her coach. Daryun noticed that she was upset, since during the last 20 minutes of the lesson her attacks became more desperate since she had only managed to hit him twice. During that time, fueled by her frustration she managed to land one more hit on his thigh. He wanted to comfort her but before he could open his mouth, Shelingia spoke without looking at him.

"This was harder than I expected... Good job..."

Daryun: "Shelingia, this only means you have more space to grow, and a lot of potential!"

Shelingia didn't speak, still trying to calm her breathing. She made a small nod, however.

Daryun: "...The sooner the better as you said... I'll see you tomorrow, same time as today."

Shelingia is still silent as ever. With her back turned on Daryun and her face not visible. Just before Daryun was about to step out the door, Shelingia spoke with her back still turned on him.

Shelingia: "Are you gonna tell my parents about this lesson?"

Daryun: "Your parents asked me to inform them on your progress. So yes I will let them know."

Shelingia: "So you will huh... Well so be it. You can leave. Thanks for the lesson Daryun."

Daryun: "Of Course. Have a good day." He said before leaving the room.

Once the door closed Shelingia was left alone, standing in the middle of the training room... A single gulp can be heard from her.

Shelingia: "A good day huh..." She chuckled. "I wish."

Though her face was still not visible with her white messy hair covering it, a teardrop hit the ground.

The same day, later at night...

The lights are off, the only source of light was the cold lights of the hallway sneaking through the creak of the door to Shelingia's room. She was on her own in there, huddled in a corner. But then, she heard the creaking sound of the door opening. Heavy and quick stepping, from the sound of the footsteps Shelingia notices that this person is very much irritated. The steps reached her while she was hugging her knees in the corner, trembling in fear.

Though dark, the person that entered the room knew exactly where Shelingia was. As if they had mapped it in their head.

Suddenly, a strong grip is felt on Shelingia's hand, and the hand that gropes her lifts her up, the woman grabbing her hand finally speaks up.

"THREE?!"

Shelingia closed her eyes and felt the sharp pain of a slap right on her cheek. The sound echoed through the dark.

Shelingia didn't let out a noise.

The woman talks again, her face closing in on the teenager she was holding, as if to assert dominance.

"YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY, DO YOU?"

Shelingia didn't let out a noise.

Shelingia's hand starts to hurt as the woman tightens her grip dramatically before opening her mouth again.

"No wonder you didn't want the trainer, even with a Haunt, you're weak."

Yet another loud slap echoes in the room.

"Get better. Or face the consequences."

Shelingia didn't let out a noise.

The woman dropped Shelingia on the floor and kicked her on the stomach with the tip of her shoe.

"You better strike enough times for a lesson that lasts one and a half hours next time, if not I can't promise your safety."

Shelingia didn't let out a noise.

"DID YOU CATCH THAT YOU FUCKING EXCUSE OF A CHILD?" The woman yelled right above Shelingia's head, waiting for an answer.

Shelingia nods her head in silence.

"Oh and, this better not be an excuse for why you did poorly tomorrow, I don't wanna hear it, understood?"

Shelingia was in great pain and yet she let out no sound at all, other than a weak "Yes... mother..."

The woman leaves the room as angry as she entered, her heels making a recognizable noise as she walks. The familiar figure of a man with glasses closes the door behind her. He saw everything, but simply chose to not interfere.

Shelingia cried herself to sleep that night, holding her stomach in pain. Her head was filled with dark thoughts, she was blaming herself, like she's been made to do. "Not good enough." she heard repeat over and over in her head and after a while, she fell asleep right there on the floor...

#book #booklr #writeblr #writer #'ELLO HELLO! #I'm back with another chapter! #still learning how to write combat scenes but i think this chapter was descrptive enough without being boring #once again #feel free to send me asks #about anything at all! #Flaming Liberation #Fl Shelingia #Fl Daryun #jj be bookin #original story #original writing #original #bookblr

[searchingforstarss]

I'm playing the ultimate spiderman game and there's these guys with bats and now I can't get the idea out of my head. could you write irondad whump h/c with peter being beaten with a bat, maybe getting his jaw broken? Love all your fics so much!!!

i’m so sorry this took me a few days anon! i adored the prompt and i really wanted to make sure i did it justice. thank you so much for sending this in, i loved writing it so i hope you enjoy it x

–

“Look, kid, I’m listening to you, trust me, and I know things are getting bad but I’m not back in town until Thursday and I just need you to wait until then. Once I’m back we can come up with a game plan together.”

“I can handle it by myself, Mister Stark, we might not have until Thursday.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I do not, under any circumstances at all, want you going anywhere near this guy without me there. You hear me?”

“Okay, fine. I hear you.”

–

For the last three months, women have been being attacked in the middle of the night, usually in alleyways or secluded areas of parks, the kinds that most people know not to go anywhere near at night. None of this is particularly new, per se, because New York is a dangerous city and that’s why Peter spends so much time out patrolling, trying to protect the people and the city that he loves.

But it’s the same man, tall, broad shoulders, dark clothing and masked every time. Rumours have been flitting about the city that he carries a baseball bat with him.

Peter’s been dreaming of finally achieving something important, being able to break a big case all by himself, to prove to the Avengers and the NYPD that he’s capable of much more than they give him credit for.

This seemed like exactly the right opportunity, even if Tony kept telling him to leave it the hell alone. Once Peter’s successfully caught the guy, he’ll change his tune, surely. Just like the Vulture all over again.

So, he mapped it all out as carefully as he possibly could. He tracked the masked man’s movements around New York using Karen to hack into the city’s security camera network (and a whole lot of bribing and convincing her not to tell FRIDAY about his efforts because that would have Mister Stark putting an end to everything before he would even have a chance to go after the guy.)

The man operates between midnight and three am, Peter noted, and then he catches a C line train back to a ramshackle apartment block on the outskirts of Brownsville.

Peter figured that would give him a three-hour window. It all seemed quite easy, really. Wait until Mister Stark was out of town, tell May he was spending the night at Ned’s to work on a physics project and sneak out the window in his Spider-Man suit to slip into the man’s home. He thought maybe he could rummage around a bit, look for come evidence while he waited for the man to come home, only to ambush him and call the police on him in his own home. Right where he’s not expecting it.

Peter was quite proud of himself, honestly. He was so sure that he was going to prove Tony wrong, show him that he can do things like this himself.

It all would have been fine if Peter didn’t miss one tiny little detail. The man always returns home earlier on a Saturday night.

(Maybe he’s religious; maybe he has to get up early for church in the morning, Peter thinks to himself slightly deliriously, later on, wouldn’t that just be wildly ironic.)

He was caught off guard, so engrossed in the pair of bloody gloves that he’d found just lying out on the couch that he hadn’t heard the masked man creep into the apartment behind him.

Then everything went horribly, horribly wrong and he ended up here.

Wrists shackled to the wall behind him, slumped up against the ratty wallpaper in what looks like a bedroom inside of the apartment that he’s spent the last few days monitoring security footage of so closely. He really didn’t mean for this to happen. He should have listened to Tony.

Now, he’s just sitting, arms aching and splinters poking through the suit into the backs of his thighs from the neglected wooden floor below him. But honestly, most of his worries stem from the fact that this masked man is just sitting across from him. He’s settled on the edge a threadbare looking mattress, unmoving. It’s dark in the room and the only light slipping through the windows is from the flickering streetlamps outside. Peter can barely see the man anyway, face shielded by the mask, but he can tell he’s being stared at.

He’s getting sick of it. Sure, maybe he’s in a little over his head and maybe this is all just the universe punishing him for deliberately going against what Tony told him to do, but he’s over it and he wants to go home.

“Nice place you got here, but would you mind, like letting me go? I have places to be, man.”

“You’ve been pissing me off, Spider, prancing around the city in those tights, trying to get in my way. I think I’ll keep you right here.”

So he does speak. It’s a little unnerving when Peter can’t see the lips move from behind the mask.

“First of all, they’re not tights. Plus, who are you to talk, anyway? Who’s your style icon, Jason Voorhees?”

The man stares at him. “Shut up.”

“Oh c’mon. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th? You really don’t know him? He’s kinda a psychopath, not to spoil the whole thing for you or anything. It really is a great movie, you really should sit down and give it a watch sometime.”

“I said, shut up.”

“Alright, alright. Just trying to be helpful, but clearly, I’m not here for my movie recommendations. That’s fine, I get it.”

More silence.

“Seriously, though, I’m getting kinda bored over here. What are we doing, exactly? Apart from the whole me sitting here and looking pretty while you stare at me like a serial killer thing. Now that I think about it, the resemblance between you and Jason really is uncanny. “

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with you.”

Kinda ominous, but whatever.

“Whatever you do, I’d like to be wined and dined first, preferably.”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to make you,” the man growls, voice low and ripping from the back of his throat.

“That sounds a little like an innuendo and I’d really rather you didn’t.”  

“That’s it,” he mutters, turning to leave the room. Peter is relieved to have a break from dark eyes boring into him when the man returns only a minute or so later, breaking Peter’s brief solitude far too soon and oh - shit, there’s a bat clutched in his grip and his blood runs cold through his veins because holy fuck, clearly the baseball bat rumours were true.

Peter swallows down his panic.

“We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.”

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

People - mostly Tony, really - have always told him that his big mouth in the worst situations will get him in trouble someday. Today’s the day, apparently. Tony will have a great time telling him ‘I told you so,’ over this one.

His thoughts are cut off when the baseball bat collides with his jaw and a searing, fiery pain consumes his entire being. He’s engulfed by it, bones crunching and splintering underneath the unforgiving wood of the bat as it returns, again and again and again. No matter how desperately Peter begs and pleads, his pride and smart quips surrendering to the raw agony, the bat doesn’t stop.

His mouth is awash with the metallic taste of his own blood, and he spits it out uselessly around the pulverised bones of his jaw. It only fills right back up, coating the inside of his mouth with red once more. A drop trickles down his chin.

His jaw radiates a throbbing pain that courses through his veins. Dark spots dance and blur in the edge of his vision as his consciousness ebbs. At least if he’s unconscious he won’t have to feel any of this.

“Finally, peace and quiet. Let’s see how easy it is for you to run that mouth of yours now.”

Peter tries to spit another lot of blood out of his mouth in one last show of defiance, but he can’t even open his mouth properly without feeling like the pain will quite literally tear his entire skull open, let alone get the muscles to function enough to propel the blood anywhere, anyway.

Everything hurts.

He tips his head back against the wall in defeat. His eyelids droop, feeling too heavy to keep open, but the pain is worse when he closes his eyes. It’s all he has to focus on.

There’s a thunk, something heavy landing on the floorboards in front of him. Heavy footsteps leave the room. When he chances cracking one eye open, the man is gone, but the baseball bat, decorated with smears of Peter’s own crimson blood, has been tossed onto the floor in front of him.

—

There’s a crash at the door and Peter flinches back into the wall behind him. He’s not sure how long he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness and his entire jaw screams at the sudden movement but he doesn’t care because the man is back and he can’t do it again, he can’t.

He screws his eyes shut in misery and tries to prepare himself to take it because this is his fault, after all, he was stupid and he didn’t listen to Tony.

Now he’s paying the price because maybe Tony’ll be mad, maybe he won’t even come to get Peter - or even worse, maybe no one will come at all, to teach him a lesson and he’ll be left curled up here forever, shackled to the wall, bleeding and broken with the constant threat of a bat to the face looming over him the second he steps out of line.

Footsteps stop in front of him.

His lungs burn as he holds his breath unsurely. He waits for the sound of the bat being picked up off the floor in front of him but it never comes. Instead, it sounds like it’s kicked away. Peter resists the urge to cringe away because god, that’s maybe that’s even worse. The man could be sick of the bat already, maybe it’s not enjoyable enough for him anymore - not that it was ever enjoyable for Peter but he thinks it was probably better than a knife to the chest or a bullet to the head.

Based on his research, Peter is pretty sure that this man hasn’t killed anyone yet, hasn’t gone quite that far, but there’s a first time for everything.

He can vaguely sense movement in front of him. Someone is getting closer and he doesn’t dare to move or breath, knowing that he’s completely unable to protect himself with his arms compromised behind him.

Then there’s a voice.

“Hey, kid. Wanna open those eyes for me?”

Tony.

He blinks his heavy eyes open, doing what the man asks because avoiding doing so was what got him in this whole mess in the first place. Sure enough, when he does, he finds Tony crouched in front of him. He’s in a three-piece suit, glasses hastily shoved down the front of his shirt, the Iron-Man armour standing sentry behind him.

He stares.

Tony came. He’s here. Even though he was stupid and he didn’t listen and he fucked things up. Tony only forgave him after the Vulture because he saved the day. He did what he was meant to do, as a superhero. Tonight he’s only managed to piss off a notorious serial-attacker and consequently screw up his jaw past even the best abilities of his healing.

He needs to apologise, he needs Tony to see how sorry he is for everything, because maybe if he does Tony might get him out of here. Try as he might, he can’t form proper words around his broken jaw. Instead, whines and mumbles slip past his lips incoherently, eyes blown wide with all the words he wants to say but can’t force out.

“Shh, no buddy, don’t strain yourself, it’s all okay, everything is okay.”

Tony is lowering himself onto the floor next to Peter, reaching up to undo his shackles from the wall with a small rusted key. Peter doesn’t know where he got it from, but he’d entirely forgotten about the ache in his arms from the restraints, anyway, too focused on his jaw. He shakes them out at his sides.

If Peter is being uncuffed, then surely that must mean that Tony is considering getting him out of here. Peter so desperately wants to get out of here. What if Tony won’t take him with him if he doesn’t know exactly how sorry Peter is?

“Pl’se. S…s-s’rry.”

“No, Pete, it’s okay.”

Peter shakes his head frantically, the movement irritating his jaw but he continues anyway. He needs to keep apologising. He doesn’t want Tony to leave him here, he’s already in an insurmountable amount of pain and he doesn’t think he can survive anymore if the man with the bat comes back.

He won’t argue with Tony ever again. He’d be willing to promise anything if he could form words around the stabbing pain and shattered bones of his jaw.

“W’nna go h’me. W’th you. Pl’se. Don’t l’ve me.”

“I’m taking you home, I promise,” Tony says, never taking his eyes away from Peter’s. He’s strong and steady in a way that Peter definitely isn’t right now. It’s reassuring. “I just don’t want to risk flying and irritating that nasty looking jaw of yours, buddy. You’re not bleeding out so we’re safe to just wait here, you’re fine. Brucie and the medics will be here soon and we’ll be home before you know it.”

“‘M’st’r St’rk.”

“I’m here. You’re okay,” Tony murmurs and Peter lets the gentle tone wash over him, settling over his ragged and aching body, soothing like a balm.

He reaches a hand out to tangle it in the stiff fabric of Tony’s suit jacket sleeve. It’s not the softened cotton of his lab outfits that Peter is so used to but it will do. It’s enough.

Tony leans over and as gently as he can, lowers Peter down so his head is resting in his lap. “Get comfy down there for a minute, Pete. Won’t be long ‘til we’re out of this dump.”

Peter nods weakly. Now that Tony’s here, this dump isn’t nearly half as bad as it was only half an hour ago. Home sounds good though. He’d kill for a warm bed and some painkillers. Maybe he can even bribe Tony to keep this from May for a day or two so he can avoid being violently chewed out for lying to her about his and Ned’s physics project - though, he’s sure there’s a very slim chance of convincing him of that. He and May are a formidable force when combined.

Hands find his shoulders and they rub slowly at the tenseness there and the back of his neck with the sort of tenderness that only comes out when Peter’s upset or in a considerable amount of pain. Right now probably counts as both.

Peter doesn’t want to talk anymore, doesn’t want to risk aggravating his broken bones further now that Tony’s comfort is giving him something to focus on rather than the never-ending pain. He just wants to lie here and listen to him talk until it’s time to go home.

“Gotta tell you, kid, you gave me a hell of a scare. Your vitals went all wonky. I couldn’t get the baby monitor footage without your mask on but I could still track you. I owe the Secretary of State another meeting since I crashed out of our last one. Maybe I’ll drag you out there with me to get you back for this little stunt, huh? It’ll bore you to death, that’s a promise,” Tony chuckles. There’s no malice to his words, and Peter lets himself relax further back against him.

He was stupid, but it’s okay because Tony is here and Tony is looking after him.

Tony won’t let anyone hurt him anymore.

—

When Peter can talk properly and form full sentences again two days later, after bone reconstruction surgery and lots of help from his accelerated healing, the first words out of his mouth, in true Peter Parker fashion, are, “I’m so, so sorry, Mister Stark.”

Tony shushes him almost immediately. “Nuh-uh, none of that. God, you’re a stupidly self-sacrificing kid, have I ever told you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“You’re lucky I love you then, huh, bud?”

“Mmm. Guess I am.”

“If you ever pull something like this again, I might have to reconsider.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

Tony’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, you got me there. I won’t.”

#ask #anon #irondad #irondad fic #my writing